Ares Hidalgo walked through the darkened streets, the weight of the city pressing against him like an unspoken challenge. His hands were stuffed deep into the pockets of his worn leather jacket, and the soft glow of neon signs flickered above, casting an eerie light over his sharp features. It had been one of those nights—lonely, heavy, full of questions with no answers.
The world was quieter now, after hours, when the usual chaos of the city seemed to pause, holding its breath. Ares didn’t mind the silence; it allowed his thoughts to roam, free from distraction. He wasn’t sure where he was heading, but he didn’t need to know. Sometimes, the path was less important than the walk itself.
As he passed an alleyway, a soft rustling caught his attention. He stopped, narrowed his eyes, and stepped closer, instinctively sensing something out of place. In the dim light, he could make out a figure—a woman, crouched against the wall, her face hidden in shadow.
"You lost?" Ares’s voice was low, rough, but not unkind. She looked up, startled, her eyes wide. There was something about her, something fragile yet sharp, like a storm waiting to break.
"I'm fine," she said, her voice trembling slightly, though she stood and wiped her face as if to reclaim some dignity.
Ares studied her for a moment, his instincts telling him to walk away. But something kept him rooted there. Maybe it was the flicker of vulnerability in her eyes, or maybe it was the quiet desperation he recognized all too well. Without a word, he stepped forward, offering his hand.
"Come on," he muttered, his tone softer now, more certain. "You don’t have to be fine alone."
The woman hesitated, then took his hand, her fingers cold but firm. And together, they walked into the night, the city wide and silent around them.
