The Alien and the Cursed Star

On their way back to the condo, the rain started suddenly—sharp and cold, like it had been waiting for the perfect moment to fall.

Sabrina gasped and instinctively raised her arms over her head. Nathaniel, without a word, gently pulled her toward the awning of a nearby convenience store.

They took shelter just under the edge of the roof, the rain pattering loudly above them.

Nathaniel did not say anything, just gently pulled Sabrina by the wrist and led her to a nearby convenience store to take shelter under its awning.

Sabrina shook her head. "Seriously? Rain now?"

Nathaniel did not answer — his eyes were on something by the corner of the store.

A tiny kitten, curled up and trembling beside a soggy old box.

"Wait here." He said, then ducked into the store.

When he came out, he was holding a dry cardboard box, a small pack of food, and a single umbrella.

"You bought all that?" Sabrina asked, surprised.

"You were looking at the kitten like you were about to cry." h\He said with a shrug, crouching down to gently move the kitten into the dry box. "Figured you wouldn't leave without helping it."

Sabrina knelt beside him. For a moment, it was quiet — just the two of them and the tiny creature between them.

He is… actually kind, Sabrina thought, trying not to smile.

Then she noticed—he only had one umbrella.

"I thought you'd grab two." She said.

"I did not bring my card. I only meant to buy ice cream, remember?" he said, opening the umbrella and holding it over both of them. "So yeah, we're sharing, auntie."

They walked slowly through the rain, close—too close. His arm was practically brushing hers. Every time the wind pushed the umbrella; Nathaniel would tilt it further over her side.

"Make sure you're covered." He said, glancing down at her. "You're old. Rain isn't good for your joints."

Sabrina narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me?"

"I meant—you are Sabrina's auntie." he said with a grin. "You know, fragile. Must protect the elderly."

"You little—" she muttered, suppressing a laugh.

By the time they reached the condo, Sabrina was smiling more than she realized.

Nathaniel asked casually, "Have you eaten?"

She shook her head. "Not yet."

He dropped his things and headed straight to the kitchen.

She watched him from behind, genuinely surprised. He cooked like he'd done it a hundred times—quick, confident, and quiet.

When he placed the food in front of her and pulled up a chair to join, she teased, "I thought you did not like eating with people?"

Nathaniel looked up, she is a little caught off guard.

"I mean…" she added with a knowing smile, "Sabrina told me before that you helped her out, but also mentioned you do not usually like to eat with others."

"I do not." He replied, not meeting her eyes. "But I'm making an exception. For the elderly."

Sabrina nearly choked on her soup. "Stop calling me that."

He laughed, the sound light and rare. "Fine, fine. You're a very young-looking senior."

She shook her head but couldn't hide her grin.

After dinner, he pointed to the guest room. "You'll sleep here. I already called the building admin. They're checking your unit tomorrow."

What he did not say was that he had already teleported into her condo earlier that evening. The place was a mess—drawers open, cabinets rifled through. But nothing was taken.

What were they looking for? he wondered.

"I'll ask management for an update. To confirm if someone really broke into your condo." Nathaniel said as he stepped out into the hallway.

Left alone in his unit, Sabrina sat quietly on the edge of the couch. Her eyes wandered, slowly taking in the space around her. She was here not too long before and she did not want to explore the unit also.

But really, it wasn't what she expected.

Nathaniel's home did not scream "young bachelor" at all. The walls were decorated with framed paintings — not modern prints or abstract art, but calm, rustic landscapes. One showed a golden field under a soft sunset. Another, a quiet forest trail in autumn.

The furniture was sturdy and classic. A wooden bookshelf in the corner held not only books but a few old trinkets—what looked like a vintage camera, and a chessboard with worn pieces already mid-game. There was a patterned rug in the center of the living area, not loud or flashy, just simple and warm. A record player rested on one side table, surprisingly dust-free, as if it still got some use.

He likes old things, she realized, her gaze settling on a lamp with a slightly yellowed lampshade.

She expected something more modern or careless—a minimalist setup with black leather and too many wires. Instead, it felt like she was visiting a retired professor's home.

But He is young. Why does his home feel older than mine?

She stood up, walking slowly past the kitchen. Even here, there was neatness. Everything in its place. A pot on the drying rack, knives aligned on a magnetic strip. It was tidy in a way that felt natural, not obsessive.

Sabrina sat back down and folded her arms, lost in thought.

Nathaniel confused her. Someone who liked calm, silence. Someone who probably preferred nights in over parties. Someone who remembered to wipe down his counters.

And earlier—buying food for the shivering kitten, letting her stay, cooking dinner like it was nothing…

She exhaled, quietly.

Maybe she has been wrong about him. Maybe He is not indifferent at all. Just reserved. Careful with where he puts his concern.

The front door clicked open again. Nathaniel stepped in and slipped off his shoes without a word. He glanced at her briefly, then said, "Management confirmed it. Someone broke in.

Sabrina nodded slowly, her heart skipping. Still pretending to be her own aunt, she brought her phone to her ear with fake urgency. "Oh no. I should call Sabrina. I hope she listens."

"She better." He replied as he placed his phone on the console table.

"You can stay here tonight. Tomorrow morning, I'll go out early after getting the locks changed."

He looked at her again. Not with annoyance or obligation—just a calm kind of concern.

"You're not alone. You shouldn't feel like you are." He said. "You have Sabrina. And, well… you're old. You can stay here until she comes back."

Sabrina raised an eyebrow, half-offended, half-amused. "I'm not that old."

He smirked, unfazed. "Old enough to be dramatic about the rain earlier."

She rolled her eyes—but something inside her felt warm. Like his apartment, Nathaniel's words were unpolished but strangely comforting.

"Here," he said, suddenly reaching into a paper bag. "I bought you some clothes."

She took the bag and peeked inside… and nearly choked.

"What are these?" she asked in disbelief.

He straightened. "Those are trendy clothes. For, you know, aunties."

Sabrina pulled out a blouse with frills that looked like it had come straight from a Sunday church bazaar. There was even a matching scarf.

"You want me to wear this?" she said, holding it up like it might bite her.

He shrugged. "It has flowers. Aunties love flowers."

"I'm not wearing this."

Nathaniel scratched the back of his neck, thinking. "Okay, okay. Then…" He opened his closet, pulled out a fresh shirt and sweatpants, and handed them to her.

Sabrina stared at them. Then at him. "You want me to wear your clothes?"

He folded his arms. "You do not want the frilly blouse. You do not want to wear mine. So what do you want? To sleep in a towel?"

She gave him a long look. Her pride and her fashion sense were both offended—but given the situation, comfort won.

Minutes later, she stepped out of the bathroom in his oversized hoodie and sweatpants. Everything was too big for her frame, the sleeves falling over her hands, the waistband needing two folds to stay in place.

Nathaniel looked up from the couch and blinked. "You look…"

"If you say 'cute,' I will throw your cat figurine at you."

"I was gonna say ridiculous."

She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. "Better."

He chuckled, light and low. "Come on. I'll show you the guest room."

And as she followed him down the hallway, Sabrina found herself oddly at ease. Maybe it was the ridiculous clothes. Or the quiet way he took care of things without making a show of it. Or maybe, just maybe—Nathaniel wasn't the cold person she always thought he was.

The next morning, Sabrina woke to a quiet unit and the smell of something warm.

Nathaniel was gone, but he had cooked breakfast—again.

She stood there, hair still tousled, hugging herself.

He is unpredictable… but maybe not so heartless after all.

She changed quickly—sunrise was coming. But for a moment, she stood by the window, remembering his teasing, the umbrella, the kitten, and his rare but sincere concern.

And she smiled.