Twilight The Stranger's Gaze

If you want to support (To continue with the chapters and improve the quality of the language)or read some advance chapters (this week I will upload several chapters to Patreon) please follow me on: patreon.com/Jayjayempi

The air had become unbreathable, thick like a storm about to break. Nate and Bella were still there, surrounded by silence, broken only by their ragged breathing… until a pair of voices interrupted everything.

"Hey! Are you okay?" a man shouted from across the street, eyes wide as he took in the scene before him.

It was an older couple. They had stopped when they saw the four men lying unconscious on the ground, blood staining their clothes and bruises covering their faces. The woman gasped and pulled out her phone with trembling hands.

"Call the police. Now!" the man demanded, stepping back as he eyed Nate with visible suspicion.

Nate didn't answer. He simply made sure none of the attackers were moving. He stood firm, taking deep breaths as if the weight of the night was only now beginning to press down on him.

Bella took a few steps away, crossing her arms. Her face was still tense. Nate didn't look at her. He couldn't.

In less than ten minutes, the silence was replaced by sirens, flashing lights, and urgent voices.

Patrol cars arrived. Red and blue lights flooded the street. An officer stepped out immediately and approached Bella.

"Are you alright, miss?"

"Yes. Thank you," she replied, her voice steady even though her hands were shaking.

The officer looked at the men on the ground, then at Nate, who was bleeding from his arm.

"You took them on yourself?"

Nate nodded silently.

The oldest of the attackers, a burly man with a weathered face, was identified almost instantly. He had a record for assault, and the other three weren't strangers to the law either. Bella's version of events—clear and direct—eliminated any doubt that might have been cast on Nate.

As the men were cuffed and loaded into the patrol cars, a paramedic approached.

"Do you want us to take you in to get checked out?"

"It's not necessary," Nate replied. "It's not deep. Just a cut."

The paramedic looked at him skeptically, but at his insistence, handed him some bandages and antiseptic.

Bella remained a few meters away, unmoving. She didn't come closer. And Nate didn't try either.

They stayed that way… until a familiar car screeched to a halt at the edge of the street.

Charlie Swan stepped out before the engine even stopped. His expression was tense, filled with fear, but also unwavering determination. He walked straight to Bella and hugged her tightly, checking her over for any sign of injury.

She let herself be held, saying nothing.

Then Charlie looked up and saw Nate.

For a moment, he simply stared: at Nate, shirt torn, arm crudely bandaged, eyes downcast. Without another word, Charlie walked toward him and embraced him.

A firm hug. One of gratitude.

"Thank you," he murmured. "For protecting her. Again."

Nate stiffened. He only responded with a small nod.

Charlie returned to Bella and led her to the car. Just before getting in, she turned briefly toward Nate. She didn't meet his eyes, but her lips moved, barely.

"Thank you."

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The ride home felt endless. Much longer than the way there. The makeshift bandage burned, but Nate didn't complain. He kept his eyes fixed on the road.

When he finally arrived home, it was already well past midnight. The porch lights were still on.

His grandmother was waiting in the rocking chair, a blanket over her legs and a cup of cold tea in her hands. She didn't say a word when he walked in. Didn't question him either.

She just looked at him.

An intense gaze. Silent. Full of worry.

Nate lowered his eyes. He knew the police had called her. But she only gave him a faint smile. He noticed how her gaze briefly flicked to the bandage on his arm, then quickly returned to meet his before she spoke.

"I boiled some water. In case you need anything," she said softly at last.

He nodded. Passed by her without a word and went upstairs without looking back.

In his room, everything felt too quiet. As if nothing had happened. As if the world hadn't changed so much in a single night.

He took off his jacket. Opened the first aid kit and, patiently, removed the bandage. Cleaned the wound. Grit his teeth against the sting. Then he rewrapped it, this time more carefully. As if it were a ritual.

He sat on the edge of the bed.

And then it all hit him.

The fight with Bella.

The things they said.

The things they didn't.

He had wanted to protect her. Yes. But he had also wanted to be right. To assert himself. To scare her into staying away. He hadn't realized when he'd started becoming like this: controlling. Petty. Unable to trust anything but his judgment.

He had begun acting out of fear. Out of loss.

He remembered his own words: "You still have something to lose."

And for the first time, he understood he wasn't talking about her. He was talking about himself. About how he'd closed himself off so much that he forgot how much his own life still mattered. Maybe Bella was right… at least she acted out of love.

He, on the other hand, clung to everything that gave him control. He had stopped opening his heart. And started locking others in. All under the excuse of protecting them. As if only he knew what was best.

Bella wanted to choose. And he… wanted to choose for her.

He sighed, covering his face with a hand.

"I'm a hypocrite," he muttered.

And he was.

For still seeing Alice. For knowing what she was… and still seeking her out. All under the excuse of confirming that what he felt wasn't real. And now that he thought about it, that excuse sounded weak. Ridiculous.

He had promised to follow his grandmother's advice. But he kept interfering. Kept trying to make everything turn out the way he wanted.

The hours passed. And his mind wouldn't stop.

He wouldn't go to school the next day.

Not out of cowardice. Not to avoid Bella. Not to dodge Alice.

But because he needed to think. To breathe.

To reevaluate.

To accept that his pain didn't come just from losing his parents, but from the terrifying fear of losing… someone else.

And because, for the first time in a long while, he wanted to do things right.