ALTHEA
She was supposed to just drop him off.
Hand over the key. Point to the hallway. Maybe throw in a polite "good luck" and go back to her own life.
But no.
She was still here, standing awkwardly in the "lobby"—aka the front desk made from an old surfboard—watching Jihoon attempt to decode the resort welcome sign like it was written in Elvish.
"'No flush? Use tabo?'" he read slowly, brows furrowed in confusion. "What is… tabo?"
Althea winced. "Oh. Uh. That's a small bucket. For… Filipino-style bathroom business."
He blinked.
Then blinked again.
"Oh," he said flatly.
"I mean, the flush works," she lied. "Sometimes."
He gave her a nervous thumbs up. "Cool. Okay. I love… cultural experience."
She chuckled. "Yeah, well. Prepare your butt, oppa."
His face turned red. "...My what?"
"Never mind."
JIHOON
He'd been on tour buses, helicopters, private jets. Slept in five-star hotels with Egyptian cotton sheets and pillow menus.
This was not that.
His room had a bunk bed, a tiny electric fan that sounded like it was coughing, and a single lightbulb dangling from the ceiling like a threat.
Still… it was quiet. Peaceful. And nobody here knew who the hell he was.
That alone made it paradise.
Jihoon sat on the edge of the creaky bed, running a hand through his hair. It was only 8:40 PM, but he was already crashing hard.
Then came the knock.
Tok tok.
He opened the door to see Althea holding two paper cups and a half-melted tub of sorbetes.
"Peace offering," she said. "Your mango crash was, like, 30% my fault."
He smiled. "Ice cream… for trauma?"
"Exactly."
LATER THAT NIGHT – RESORT GARDEN
They sat on two plastic chairs under a makeshift roof made of tarpaulin and duct tape. The stars above El Nido were stupidly beautiful—bright, shameless, and far too romantic for two strangers eating melting ube ice cream.
"So… what's your name again?" she asked, mid-bite.
"Jihoon."
"Just Jihoon?"
"In Korea… yes. Family name is Park. But Jihoon is okay."
She tilted her head. "Why does that sound so familiar?"
He shrugged. "Maybe you see me somewhere?"
Althea narrowed her eyes. "Shampoo commercial?"
Jihoon burst out laughing. "Maybe."
He didn't say more than that.
Althea didn't push.
ALTHEA
Something about him was weirdly comforting. Maybe it was the way he sat—legs sprawled like a teenager, arms resting on his knees. Maybe it was his terrible, wonderful English. Or maybe it was just the fact that he listened.
Like, really listened.
No phone. No fake interest. Just him, nodding slowly, eyebrows doing half the talking.
She found herself rambling about everything—her nightmare check-in, her useless ex, how she hadn't taken a vacation in three years because she was too busy "being responsible for everyone."
And he just… sat there, spooning ice cream into his mouth like it was sacred.
"That's hard," he said quietly, after she paused.
"Yeah," she admitted. "Kinda sucked."
They fell into silence.
Then she heard it: the first buzz of a mosquito near her ear.
"AY PUT—" she slapped her arm dramatically. "Sorry. Mosquitoes love my blood."
Jihoon swatted at the air. "Also love mine. I am… buffet."
She snorted. "Buffet? Sure ka?"
He grinned proudly. "English skill: Level 99."
Althea burst out laughing.
A FEW MINUTES LATER – BACK INSIDE
The storm came out of nowhere.
One minute, stars.
Next minute? Torrential island rain.
The garden lights shorted with a pop, and Jihoon jumped like someone fired a gun.
"Aigoo!" he said, ducking reflexively.
Althea grabbed his hand and tugged. "Quick, inside! Before the roof gives up!"
They ran—half-laughing, half-screaming—back to the hallway.
By the time they reached her door, they were soaked.
Jihoon shook his hair like a golden retriever. Water went everywhere. "Sorry, sorry!"
Althea squealed. "YAAH! You're flooding the hallway, oppa!"
He looked sheepish. "Gift?"
He held up the plastic tub of ruined sorbetes like a sad offering to the gods.
She doubled over, laughing.
OUTSIDE HER ROOM – LATE NIGHT
"I guess you're sleeping in a thunderstorm tonight," Althea said, arms crossed, still catching her breath.
"I sleep okay," Jihoon said. "Rain… like lullaby."
He looked so sincere it made her heart weirdly soft.
"I'll get you extra blankets," she offered. "At least."
"Okay. Thank you, Althea."
He said her name like it meant something.
Like it mattered.
She hesitated. Then opened her door, letting the warm yellow light spill into the dark hallway.
"Or…" she said carefully, "you could stay here. Just until the rain stops."
Jihoon's eyes widened slightly. He looked at her, really looked.
"No funny business," she added quickly. "Just… I don't want you getting sick."
A pause.
Then he nodded slowly. "No funny business."
But his eyes said otherwise.
Althea stepped aside. Jihoon entered.
The door clicked softly shut behind him.
The thunder rolled in the distance.