Luka spent his nights watching from a distance. He had promised to stay away from Anna, but the urge to protect her was too strong. He told himself it was about her safety—to ensure no harm came to her—but deep down, he knew it was more.He followed her each night, keeping to the shadows. He was careful never to let her notice him, relying on skills honed over centuries to stay unseen. Humans rarely sensed him, and Anna, despite her sharp intuition, was no exception. Her routine became familiar to him.She worked at a bookstore, often absorbed in her books. Luka watched her through the windows as she rang up customers, rearranged shelves, or sat with coffee and a stack of old texts. Her relentless curiosity reminded him of his younger self, back when he still sought answers to life's mysteries.One evening, she went somewhere unexpected: a small, run-down building on the city's edge. The cracked sign read Lindenwood Orphanage. Luka stayed outside, watching as she entered. Peering through a window, he saw children rush to her, their faces bright with joy. She greeted each one warmly, playing with the younger ones and helping the older ones with homework. She even shared meals with the staff, laughing at their stories. Here, she was vibrant, her sorrow momentarily replaced by light.Over time, Luka realized this wasn't a casual visit. Anna was a regular at the orphanage, volunteering to teach and organize activities. She brought art supplies for the children and gave them the love and attention they craved. But her joy wasn't complete. Luka noticed the heaviness in her gaze when she thought no one was watching. Then, one evening, Luka followed her home. It was late, and the streets were mostly empty. He stayed in the shadows, his presence like a ghost trailing her. Anna walked with her hands stuffed into her coat pockets, her steps slower than usual. The air was cool, the first signs of winter nipping at her cheeks. Luka kept a safe distance, watching as she unlocked the door to her small apartment. He hesitated before moving closer. He knew he shouldn't; this was too personal, too invasive. But something urged him on. Something about her had shifted tonight, something darker, more sorrowful, and he needed to know why. From his vantage point across the street, he watched as Anna moved inside. She tossed her keys onto the counter and slipped out of her coat, her movements heavy and tired. For a long moment, she just stood in the middle of the room, staring at nothing. Then, to Luka's surprise, she crumpled onto the couch, burying her face in her hands. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs, her entire body trembling as if it could no longer bear the weight she carried. Luka's breath caught in his throat. He had seen her strength, her resilience with the children, the way she lifted them up with her laughter and warmth. But this—this was a different side of her. This was the part of Anna that she kept hidden from the world, the part that bled in private. Luka's chest tightened painfully as he watched her. He wanted nothing more than to rush inside, to pull her into his arms, to tell her that everything would be okay. But he couldn't. He shouldn't. He wasn't a part of her world. He was a creature of the night, a predator, and she was human, fragile and full of life in ways he could never be. But he couldn't look away. The more he watched, the more he pieced together the truth of Anna's pain. Through the nights of following her, overhearing conversations with the orphanage staff, and observing the way she sometimes stared at old photographs on her desk, he began to understand. Anna's parents had been taken from her, murdered in cold blood when she was just a child. The killer? Her own uncle, driven by greed in a brutal dispute over family property. The tragedy had shattered her. Luka could see the scars it had left, not just in her tears but in the way she carried herself, the way she had thrown herself into helping others. It was as if she was trying to make up for the love and family that had been stolen from her by giving that love to those who needed it most. She had faced unimaginable loss, and yet she still found the strength to be kind, to help others, to give without expecting anything in return. It made Luka's heart ache for her even more. He felt a tear slip down his cheek, a rare show of emotion for someone like him, someone who had lived through centuries of loss and heartbreak. He had thought he was beyond feeling this kind of empathy, this kind of sorrow, but watching Anna broke something open inside him. He stood there for what felt like hours, watching her cry, helpless to do anything. He couldn't comfort her. He couldn't be the one to take away her pain. All he could do was stand in the shadows, watching as the woman he had grown to care for fell apart, and knowing he could never truly be a part of her life. Luka's fists clenched at his sides, the overwhelming urge to cross the street and knock on her door almost too strong to resist. But he stayed where he was, his feet rooted to the spot. He couldn't bring his darkness into her life. He couldn't let her see the monster he truly was. She deserved better than that. And yet, in that moment, he felt more human than he had in centuries. As the moon climbed higher in the sky, Anna's sobs eventually quieted. She wiped her eyes and slowly rose from the couch, heading to her bedroom. Luka watched her disappear from view, his heart heavy. He wanted to protect her, to shield her from the pain she carried, but he knew that was impossible. She would never know he was there. He turned to leave, his body moving silently through the darkness. He felt the weight of her sorrow hanging over him like a shroud, and though he tried to push it away, it clung to him, sinking into his bones. Luka had seen too much pain in his long life, but this—this was different. This wasn't the distant, abstract suffering of a stranger. This was Anna. And that made it unbearable. The following days passed much the same, Luka watching Anna from afar, never close enough to touch, but always close enough to see. He watched as she continued her routine, returning to the orphanage, brightening the children's lives with her warmth and kindness, but always retreating home to her solitary world where the weight of her past would overwhelm her again. Luka found himself wishing, hoping, that things could be different. That he could be the one to hold her when she broke down, the one to soothe her wounds and make her feel whole again. But he knew it was a foolish dream. He was not a part of that world, no matter how much he wished to be. And so, he remained in the shadows, his heart aching for the woman he could never have, watching her from a distance, torn between the desire to protect her and the knowledge that he was the last person who ever could. "Why am I so drawn to her?" Luka whispered into the night, his voice filled with frustration. "A human... after everything they've done to me, to those I loved... why her?"
