They walked deeper into the market, the vendors now quieting as the pair passed—less out of fear and more from reverent curiosity. Something about them pulled at the threads of fateful tension.
Manuka didn't speak for a while, digesting her mistake. Then: "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"Showing me off. Humbling me. You're not here to prove your superiority—you're too smart for that. You're baiting me for something else."
Phillip turned to her, slowing his steps.
"I told you I needed to understand you," he said. "But really—I just wanted to see you."
"See me?"
"The woman behind the frost. The one who works tirelessly. Who talks to herbs like children. Who holds too much pride to cry in public when a rare flower dies. You're fascinating, Manuka Lan."
The words hit harder than she expected. Her jaw clenched. Her heart stammered.
"I don't need flattery," she said.
"Good," Phillip said. "I'm not offering any."
