Dinner was ready before I could think of something to say.
Kieran had this way of moving through the kitchen like he'd always belonged in it... shoulders loose, focused but relaxed, like chopping onions was some kind of therapy. I stood near the wall, awkward as ever, watching this six-foot-seven inked menace of a man plate pasta like we were filming a cooking show.
I wanted to say thank you. Not just for dinner, but for lunch too, he'd packed it neatly this morning before I left for work, the box warm in my bag like a secret. But the words got stuck somewhere in my throat, caught in the knots I'd tied around myself over the course of the day.
So instead, I picked up the remote.
"This okay?" I asked as I scrolled past news channels, late-night reruns, a game show that looked decades old.
"Wait," he said, just as I passed a local drama channel.
I paused. The screen showed some poor actress overacting a breakdown in a hospital hallway.
"What, this?"
"Yeah," Kieran said, grabbing his plate. "Leave it. I'm following that one."
I turned to him slowly, eyebrows raised. "You... watch this?"
He looked at me like I was the one acting out a plot twist. "Yeah. What?"
"Nothing," I said, dropping the remote. "Just... didn't expect that."
We sat down. The couch dipped under his weight. I slowly ate my food, savoring every bite, but Kieran was fully invested in the screen. His brows furrowed. His jaw tightened. At one point, he even whispered a quiet, "Idiot," at the male lead.
I glanced at him sideways. This man had probably broken ribs with his bare hands, and here he was getting emotional over a mid-week night drama with the worst lighting I'd ever seen.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
Was this really my new normal?
Eating dinner with a man I picked up on a random night.
That's when he turned to me, dead serious, and said, "If you're gonna be watching me instead of the show, I'm expecting make-out privileges."
I choked. "What?!"
He smirked. That stupid, lazy smirk he always wore when he knew he'd gotten under my skin.
"You know. Couch cuddles. A little tongue. Don't worry, I'll keep it PG-13 while the commercials are on."
"You- you pervert," I muttered, flustered as hell.
He chuckled, clearly satisfied with himself—and that's when his gaze dropped.
It stopped at my neck.
"The necklace looks good on you," he said, tone dipping softer. "Buy it with your rent money?"
My hand instinctively brushed over it. "No. My boyfriend bought it for me."
His lips twitched into something between a grin and a scoff.
I blinked. "What?"
"Nothing," he said. "Just—cute."
"No, what's that supposed to mean?" I asked, sitting up a little straighter. "Why did you laugh?"
Kieran leaned back like he was trying to play it off, but I knew him by now. I pressed harder.
"Seriously. What? You don't believe me?"
He sighed, dragged a hand through his hair. "I just—hope I get to meet the guy someday."
And there it was.
That tiny ache in my chest. That subtle confirmation of what I'd suspected.
He didn't take it seriously.
And suddenly everything hit all at once again.
The bitter truth I'd been ignoring for a long time now.
No one took me seriously.
"I told you," I said, more defensive now. "His name is Aaron. He's the CEO of my company. We've been together for almost a year."
Kieran's expression didn't change. If anything, he looked more bored. Like he was humoring me.
And then came the joke. Some dumb, half-flirty line about how he hoped Aaron knew how lucky he was, or how he'd gladly volunteer if Aaron ever dropped the ball.
I didn't even laugh.
Because it suddenly felt like I'd heard it all before. The way people looked at me. The things they whispered.
Does she really think she has a chance?
Aaron has better taste than that.
She's probably wishing he could look her way.
She's probably thinking she could get his attention.
Katherine looks so good with him.
Even Aaron didn't seem to take me seriously. Even when I'd tried to tell him why I was upset, all I got was a kiss and some stupid necklace as consolation.
And suddenly the unease I felt all day wasn't just my period, it was something else.
This necklace.
I stared at my plate. The food didn't taste the same anymore. It sat in my mouth like sand. My appetite withered. My stomach twisted.
I put the plate down.
"Thanks for dinner," I said, standing up.
Kieran frowned. "You're not hungry?"
I shook my head, didn't answer. Picked up my dish and headed toward the sink.
"Kina," he said behind me. "Hey. Wait."
His hand caught my wrist, gently, but I was already losing my composure.
"Let go," I said, trying to pull back.
"You didn't eat," he pressed. "What's wrong? Is it bad?"
"Let go."
He didn't. And the next thing I knew, the plate slipped. The food spilled. Loud. Messy. All over the floor.
It was stupid, really. Just sauce. Just wasted dinner. But for some reason, that was the thing that tipped me over.
I dropped to my knees immediately. "I'll clean it up—just give me a—"
"Kina—"
"No, it's fine," I snapped, voice shaking. "I said it's fine."
He tried to kneel beside me. I jerked back, flinched.
The touch burned this time, even though it hadn't meant to. I couldn't help it.
And I hated myself for it.
Without another word, I stood. Brushed off my knees. Walked straight to my room without looking at him once.
My chest felt hollow.
Everything felt... ridiculous.
I couldn't even tell if I was mad at Kieran. Or Aaron. Or myself.
But I was tired of being the girl no one seemed to take seriously. Even when I said I was hurting.
I locked the door behind me before I even realized I was doing it.
The click echoed too loudly in my room, like it was sealing me in, trapping me in this suffocating swell of embarrassment and guilt. I stood there for a second, just staring at the handle, my hand still on it, breath caught in my throat like I'd swallowed something sharp.
God.
I blinked fast, but it was useless. The sting in my eyes grew too hot, too fast. I crossed the room in a daze and sat at the edge of my bed. My throat felt too tight, my chest like it was caving in on itself. It wasn't even about the necklace. Not really. Or Aaron. Or Kieran. It was everything.
I buried my face in my palms.
I hated this.
I hated how I'd snapped at Kieran, like a brat. I didn't even give him a second to explain himself. He probably stood there, confused and thrown off, trying to piece together what just happened while I just ran away like some kind of drama queen.
And Aaron… God, Aaron.
I'd been so stupid. So desperate. One stupid box and I let my head run wild with fairytales. Of course it wasn't a ring. Of course it was just a necklace. He was being kind. Thoughtful. Maybe even trying to make things right.
And I'd just stood there disappointed like an ungrateful idiot.
My nose burned. I sniffled, wiping my eyes quickly. The tears wouldn't stop. I didn't even know what I was crying about anymore. Kieran's expression when I pulled away? The way Aaron looked at me when I couldn't even pretend to be happy?
Everything hurt.
I bit down hard on my bottom lip, trying to silence the sob that crept up, but it spilled out anyway, muffled and broken. I curled forward, clutching one of the pillows to my chest like it could anchor me somehow.
I felt ridiculous. Pathetic. Like a kid throwing tantrums in adult skin.
And then, buzz.
A vibration against the comforter.
I didn't move at first. I just stared down at where the light from my phone glowed faintly through the blanket.
Buzz.
Another one.
My fingers felt clumsy as I reached for it, eyes blurry, lashes sticky. I swiped up and saw it—an unknown number.
"Thank you for helping me buy that umbrella."
That was it. One line.
But I knew instantly.
Alex.
My tears stalled, caught somewhere between my lashes and cheekbones, like the message slapped me gently out of the spiral. My thumb hovered over the message, rereading it once. Then twice.
A watery breath escaped me.
Of course it was him.
A strange sort of warmth crawled up my spine, just soft enough to nudge the sadness aside. I sniffled and wiped my face before typing a reply.
"You're welcome. How did you even get my number?"
His response came almost immediately.
"Work group chat. I'm sorry for texting without asking first 😅 I just really wanted to say thank you properly."
I stared at his message a second longer than I needed to. Something about it made my lips twitch a little. It was honest. Maybe a bit awkward. But sweet.
"It's fine. Really."
Another message blinked in.
"Still... I want to thank you properly. Can I buy you lunch or something?"
I raised a brow at that, some sarcasm slipping in.
"I thought you were a broke college student?"
This time, he took a bit longer to reply.
"Rude. I am broke. But for you, I'll splurge and buy you the fancy instant noodles. The big ones. With the egg."
A laugh slipped out before I could stop it. It was small, but real. And it felt like air filling a tight balloon inside my chest.
"I'll think about it," I wrote back.
I let the phone fall on my stomach and just laid there for a second, staring up at the ceiling.
He really did feel like a puppy sometimes. Kind of lost-looking, a little clumsy, too eager, but also oddly comforting. I'd judged him at first, assumed he was just another slacker or weirdo wandering into my life uninvited. But somehow he was... growing on me. Like a stubborn weed that ended up blooming something soft and green before I even realized it.
It was kind of nice. Not feeling alone for once.
I glanced back at his messages, fingers brushing over the screen, and I caught myself wondering something I wasn't sure I wanted the answer to just yet.
How did he see me?