When the Night Thieves Her Breath

Owen’s phone lay facedown on his desk, the only light in the room coming from a dim, sterile lamp above him. The hospital had grown silent; even the echo of nurses’ footsteps had faded into the halls. Night had sunk deep, but Owen still hadn’t gone home. He claimed he had paperwork to finish—at least, that was the excuse he told himself.

The truth?

His focus had shattered the moment Ailine closed the door a few hours ago.

That woman… always found a way to slip into the cracks of his mind.

Almost like a ghost haunting the quiet corners of his day.

He leaned back in his chair, eyes drifting toward his phone. For the first time tonight, he flipped it screen-up, as if waiting for a notification.

Nothing.

Except one from Doctor Lisa.

Ridiculous.

Utterly ridiculous.

What on earth was he doing?

Yet he left the phone like that anyway.

With a defeated exhale, he reached for it. His thumb slid to the contact list—filled mostly with patients, colleagues, and emergency numbers.

There it was.

A new entry.

Still unsaved.

A string of cold, mechanical digits.

Ailine’s number.

He stared at it far too long. Maybe embarrassingly long. Something in his chest tightened in an unfamiliar way.

It felt like…

nervousness?

N–No. Impossible.

He wasn’t the type of man who got nervous over a woman saving his number.

But Ailine…

Ailine was a chapter he had never really closed.

“I know she did that just to sneak my number into her phone,” he muttered, rubbing his temple. “Why? She acted like she needed it so badly, but after getting it, she didn’t even send one message…”

He groaned under his breath.

“What the hell am I thinking? What am I expecting, exactly?”

He closed his eyes for a moment, forcing logic into his head.

“I left her. I walked out first. If she keeps her distance, that’s my fault. And the only reason she has my number now is because I’m her doctor. Just that. Nothing more.”

Finally—perhaps a bit too forcefully—he typed out a name for the contact:

Miss Su

Not Ailine.

Not Ailine Su.

Not anything warm.

Formal. Distant. Safe.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

He stared at the name one more time, his breath rising and falling as though the weight of the universe pressed on his lungs.

“… Don’t do this. Don’t make me hope again,” he whispered, barely audible.

Words too fragile to be spoken aloud.

He set his phone down.

The lamp flickered—midnight slipping into dawn’s earliest breath. He needed to rest; tomorrow he had two surgeries.

His life was already complicated enough.

He had no intention of adding her into that chaos.

---

The next day...

Later that night

Ailine returned to work for the first time since her hospitalization. The studio lights clung to her silhouette as she posed for the new fragrance campaign. The shoot, which should’ve ended at 9 p.m., dragged mercilessly past midnight.

Schedules were human-made.

Reality was not.

“Miss Ailine, we’re finally done! Let’s get you home!”

“Mm…”

“You look exhausted. I did my best to push this shoot a week back, but this was the furthest I could negotiate… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Emma. A week’s delay is already a miracle. It’s just… my body isn’t fully back yet.”

“When you get home, please rest immediately!”

“Yes, yes…”

Emma drove her through the sleeping city toward her apartment.

During the ride, Ailine hugged herself—her body shivering from the exhaustion gnawing at her bones.

Usually, she was strong.

Usually, she could smile through pain.

Usually, she was made of discipline and poise.

But tonight… wasn’t “usual.”

Her legs trembled.

Her vision blurred.

Her stomach pulsed with a slow, hot ache.

Her breaths came shorter, tighter.

Emma helped her into the building, wanting to stay, but Ailine gently pushed the worry away.

“You still have reports to finish. Don’t get scolded because of me again. I’ll be fine. Really.”

And Emma believed her—forced to, really. Because Ailine smiled too confidently for anyone to doubt.

Now, in her quiet apartment, Ailine sat alone, surrounded by the lingering scent of makeup and the faint buzz of tired neon lights.

Her fingers were cold.

She inhaled—

Sharp pain stabbed her ribs.

“Not now… I haven’t even removed my makeup yet… I can’t sleep like this; it’ll ruin my skin…” she whispered, breathless.

So very her. Still thinking of her face in the middle of a collapse.

She tried to stand, but the world spun violently, like a broken camera lens.

Her hand caught the wall as her body trembled.

“No… please…”

Her eyes stung as she blinked through the dizziness. The air felt thinner and thinner. When she caught her reflection, her breath hitched:

Her face was pale.

Her lips colorless.

Then her phone buzzed.

Just an ad.

Useless.

Biting her lip, she weighed her options.

Emma was too far.

Her agency would be asleep.

Layla was abroad.

Calling an ambulance?

Too dramatic. Too risky. Too much attention. Headlines would explode. Rumors would spread.

She didn’t want that.

So her mind drifted to one name.

One person.

Owen.

Her trembling hand fumbled with the screen until she found his number.

Then—without a single second of hesitation—she tapped call.

The dial tone rang.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

“Owen… pick up…”

Her voice was barely air.

“Please… pick up…”

A fourth ring—

Click.

Connection.

---

In Owen’s Office

His phone lit up:

Miss Su

Owen shot upright.

He didn’t even think—his hand reached the phone before the thought formed.

Why was she calling at this hour?

“Ailine?” His voice instantly sharpened.

On the other end, her breathing was ragged. Broken.

“Owen…”

Just one word.

But it hit like a blade.

“What happened? Where are you?”

“I’m… dizzy… I’m so dizzy…”

Her voice trembled—no playfulness, no teasing.

Real.

Unfiltered.

Weak.

“My stomach hurts again… the lights… I can’t see clearly…”

Owen stood so fast his chair rolled back. He grabbed his white coat.

“Ailine, listen to me. Sit down. Breathe slowly.”

“I’m sitting… but… I feel like I’m falling…”

“Is anyone with you?”

“No… everyone’s gone…”

Her voice shrank, softer, smaller.

“I’m alone… Owen…”

Something inside his chest dropped—then clenched.

Worry. Panic.

And something deeper he refused to name.

“I’m coming,” he said, firm and unshaking, though his heart thundered.

“I’m sorry… if I’m bothering you…”

“You’re not bothering me.”

Silence.

Just a beat.

Dangerously fragile.

Owen inhaled, forcing stability into his voice.

“Tell me your address.”

Eyes closed, Ailine whispered each word with what little strength she had left.

“Silvara Apartment… Tower B… 18th floor… unit 12… the password is…”

“What’s the password?”

“The day you… asked me to… g–go on a date… on that… bus…”

He froze for a fraction of a second.

“…Okay. Hold on. I’m leaving now.”

“Owen…”

“Yes?”

“Don’t… take too long…”

The call ended.

Owen stared at the screen.

Then—

He bolted out of his office, sprinting through the empty hallway without a single backward glance.

As if the entire night had narrowed to one single destination:

Ailine Su.

“Please… just hold on a little longer.”