My steps had no direction, but I knew why I was walking. Not to go somewhere. Not to find anything. I just wanted to breathe—without rushing, without overthinking, just me, under the faint glow of a streetlight, while the world busied itself with its own noise.
I ended up at the edge of the park. It was quiet there, too. There was a playground not too far away—already dark, the kids asleep, their laughter at rest. Near a tree stood a stone bench. A few students wandered around, holding their phones or cigarettes. But I didn't care. I didn't know them. They didn't know me either.
Until I caught a scent. That warm, oily smell. Even before I got closer, I heard it—the krrshh of kwek-kwek dropping into hot oil—and just like that, I was hungry.
"Kwek-kwek?" I muttered to myself, my feet automatically turning toward the food cart.
It was Manang Dory. Still there. She was older now but tough. She'd been at that spot for years. Rain or shine, she fed our hungry student bodies without fail.
And beside the cart… was a guy.
White hoodie. Slightly messy hair. Black jogger pants. He was holding a stick of kwek-kwek—dipping it twice in vinegar, then biting off the tip like it was some sacred evening ritual.
I sat down on the stone bench nearby. I didn't look at him directly, but from the corner of my eye—I could see him. There was something about him that pulled my attention.
Familiar. Not just the face, but the way he moved. His aura. The way he carried himself like he knew something you didn't. Chill, but with depth. I didn't know what he was hiding, but you could tell he wasn't transparent.
It felt like déjà vu.
This was how Ace was.
This was how he ate. How he sat—one foot resting on the cart rail, looking tired but relaxed. This was how he smiled when the vinegar slipped. This was him—quiet but cool, cool but never annoying. You couldn't explain it, but you also couldn't not notice him.
I touched my forehead. "What is this…"
I slowly stood up. I wasn't sure if I should walk past him or approach him. But before I could decide, he looked up. Straight at me.
"Oh, Kiera. It's you." He waved casually. "Craving kwek-kwek too?"
I raised an eyebrow slightly. Zayden. Of course it was him.
"Just walking," I answered softly. "Ended up here."
He pointed to the empty bench beside him. "Come on. Sit with me. Looks like you need to eat something to cheer up that aura of yours."
I sat down, hesitant. But I ordered from Manang Dory, too. Same as always. Three kwek-kwek, extra vinegar. No tokneneng—not really my thing.
While she was cooking, I glanced at him.
Zayden. It used to be like this every day—constant teasing, endless banter, no day without tension. It felt like annoyance was built into our routine. So now, sitting together in the park like this, peacefully—as if things were… okay?—I couldn't help but wonder. What changed? Why was everything so quiet? So different? Was something wrong? Or maybe… something right? Whatever it was, I couldn't figure it out.
I watched him take a bite of kwek-kwek. Wiped with tissue. Double dip in vinegar. Quick glance around. Smirk. That kind of smirk that said, "I see something you don't."
I knew this. This wasn't Zayden. But his mannerisms. His movement. That exact vibe.
Ace.
"You good?" he suddenly asked.
I looked at him. "Yeah. Sort of…" Unfinished. Because I wasn't even sure myself.
He smiled. "You know," he said, biting into another kwek-kwek, "you were on a different level that day—during the fake date with Axel? I thought you were serious. You almost had me convinced. Good thing I wasn't. You and Axel? That's some alternate universe nonsense. That guy's insane."
My eyebrow rose. "Wow, that spread fast?"
He laughed. "You didn't know? You're the hallway gossip's top story. Your acting was so good—even I started wondering if it was real."
"Really? Wow." I rolled my eyes but smiled. "Next time, I'll tone it down a bit. Even Samantha looked like she got slapped by reality that night."
I laughed, even though I didn't want to. That's how he was. Always had a line ready. But his jokes always had a pinch of something else. Like he wasn't just being funny—there was real concern beneath it.
"Oh, and also…" he added as he wiped his fingers with a tissue, "sorry—about the times I hit you with paper, or a ball… I swear, that wasn't on purpose."
I turned to him. His eyes were serious, but his lips were curved in a grin, waiting for the punchline.
"I know you're fragile."
I rolled my eyes again. "Idiot."
"Hey, I mean it. I'm really sorry. Next time, I promise—soft throws only. I'll even throw in some padding. Want a helmet?"
This is how Ace apologized.
You'd never catch him giving a rehearsed sorry. But even with a joke, you could feel the sincerity. It wasn't fake. It wasn't forced. His apologies had their own style—their own character.
And that's when I realized…
I thought I'd closed the chapter on all the teasing. I thought I'd graduated from dealing with guys who did nothing but mess with me.
But why did it feel like the tables had turned?
Why did it feel like now… I was the one being messed with?
Why him?
Why was he like this?
There was a mix of nerves, butterflies, and something I couldn't name. I wanted to laugh. I also wanted to run from all of this. Stand up. Go home. Forget.
But I couldn't.
He suddenly stood up, tapping my shoulder. "Wanna walk to school together tomorrow?"
I looked up. "Huh?"
"Well, your boarding house is nearby, right? Let's walk together. Let's eat kwek-kwek again. It's better with company."
And he smiled.
It wasn't the usual teasing smile. It wasn't just a joke. It was a smile with something else. Or maybe I was just overthinking.
"Okay," I said. Softly. Almost a whisper. Not even sure if I'd really said it.
We walked out of the park together. Quietly. There were moments when it felt like he wanted to say something, but chose not to.
And there stayed Manang Dory, the vinegar sachets, the hot frying pan, and all my questions.
One question I'd been trying to outrun for days but never really left me:
Ace.