Lia sauntered towards the back of the villa, leaving behind the sheltered veranda with its ocean-view hammock she never knew existed. Here, the land opened into a spacious clearing a little farther from the main structure— a secret stretch where wild grasses whispered secrets to the breeze. The sound of waves grew distinct as she walked, mingling with salt-kissed air rich with iodine tang.
Lia reached an open space overlooking a natural cove where rocks jutted like ancient guardians into the sea. The ground beneath her feet was a mix of weathered pebbles and gritty sand, worn smooth by countless tides. The secluded back area felt like a private nexus between land and ocean's moods.
She settled herself comfortably on a sun-bleached driftwood log nature had deposited like a throne. Methodically, she uncoiled her fishing line, the hook gleaming like a tiny promise at its end. Lia baited it with succulent morsels—bits of shellfish—knowing the ocean's creatures would find them irresistible. It was one of the many tricks that she had learnt as a fisher with a hook, although she is only well acquainted with using the net.
With practiced ease, Lia cast her line into the water's blue-green depths. It arced like a whispering thread into the cove's liquid expanse. Now she waited— patient, attuned to the subtle dialogue between line and sea. Her gaze drifted with the hypnotic bob of the floating marker, her mind syncing with the water's eternal rhythms.
Time unfurled like the tide itself as she sat, hook suspended in the ocean's blue expectancy. Sometimes, she felt the gentle nudge of underwater curiosity —nibbles translating faintly up the line. Other times, the sea seemed to hold its breath with her. In this back clearing of the coastal villa, she communed with the ocean's cadence, waiting for that telltale tug— when a catch would translate excitement up the waiting line.
Soon, she felt a heaviness from the end of the line dipped into the water and then she knew she had caught something. Quickly, she rolled up the line and her mouth gaped at the sight of the gigantic catfish she had pulled.
It was so big, she had never expected such hugeness.
"Wow, what a massive catch right there," a deep masculine voice spoke out of nowhere.
Lia turned to the side to find Rhysand standing behind her with his arms folded and teeth shining at her. Her face suddenly turned neutral knowing how flirty he had tried to be with her back in the villa.
It was her first day at work and she already couldn't deal with his attitude especially following the truth that he had pretended he wasn't Rhysand.
Lia had asked of Rhysand from Heather when she entered and he had told him that he was inside the villa and had been expecting her. She had gone in to find no one else but Rhysand himself.
As the fish tried to wiggle free from the hook's stronghold, Lia tried to restrain it from falling back into the water but her hands weren't well trained with using a fishing line for such massive catch.
Fortunately, Rhysand was quick to intervene, catching it right by the head before it slipped back into the water.
"Woah, a massive catch indeed," he said amist panted breath as he landed the fish into the bail Lia had brought.
Lia didn't bother to gesture a 'thank you'. She only carried the bail and head back into the villa—the kitchen, earning a sheepish smile from Rhysand.
Following a successful grilling of the fish, Lia laced it on the tray with plenty of fried chips and ketchup with a garnish of onion and tomatoes slices.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Lia's hand knocked on the exotic wooden door of Rhysand's room. He came out of his room and his green eyes squealed in excitement. "I have come to let Mr. Rhysand know that his meal is ready," Lia said and left as soon as she arrived leaving no room for Rhysand to say a word or even make an attempt even though she knew he had wanted to say something.
The same event repeated itself the next day and the day after. On the tenth day, Rhysand knew he just couldn't take it anymore knowing that the more he tried to quirky with Lia, the farther she became instead. Frustrated, Rhysand shove the platter of fish she had brought for him aside, rising quickly to his feet at the bistro set outside by the clearing.
"Lia," he stopped her as she turned to enter the villa. Lia tilted, her eyes glaring at where Rhysand had held her by the lower arm. The glare in her eyes sent a message and Rhysand was sure to receive it respectfully, letting go off her hand. "I'm sorry okay. But did I get to offend you in any way?" his tone was soft and gentle. "You seemed rather mad at me and I want to believe for some reason, that I had done something to hurt your feelings."
Lia didn't hesitate to speak her mind with her hands. "Is this who you are?"
"What?"
"A flirt with no courtesy who thinks he can go around flirting with any girl all because he is rich and has all the money?"
Rhysand's brow arched and his lips parted in utter shock at what Lia meant. But as a gentleman that he was, he handed it with great equanimity.
"What?" he chuckled lightly. "No. I'd never do that to you, Lia. I'm neither a cassinova nor a flirt, Okay. I just.." the word seized. "I think you are really beautiful, Lia. And honestly, I think I like you. And I'm deeply sorry if I hurt your feelings or if my trying to be quirky with you came off as being flirty."
Lia, seeing the sincerity in his eyes turned fully, facing Rhysand, her gaze staring at everywhere but his eyes. "It's fine."
Rhysand's face transformed into a smile, stretching his arm out to Lia. "I'm Rhysand. It's nice to meet you, Lia. Friends?"
~~
As the hot water cascaded down his shoulders in the bathroom, Rhysand's gaze drifted, a slow smile spreading across his face. Lia's actions replayed in his mind, but her hesitation and cold reactions told him more than the label itself. Still, he imagined the possibilities, the tentative steps toward building a connection. Maybe, just maybe, she'd let him in someday.
Before now, Rhysand's gut would often twist at the thought of approaching a woman, any woman. But Lia's presence stirred something unfamiliar. It was a mix of trepidation and curiosity. That night at the carnival, just before Hector came along, Rhysand felt an inexplicable sense of belonging, as if he'd found a missing piece. In that moment, the thought of a future without Lia became unbearable. He'd move mountains to make her his, to wake up to her face every day.
Switching off the shower, Rhysand meandered his way back to his room with a towel wrapped around his loin. His phone beeped and he didn't hesitate to reach for it by the nightstand. His happiness was soon cut short, his heart sank at the message he had just received:
"Faith city hospital,
Mr. Conrad Black. It is with heavy heart that we announce the death of your mother. Kindly make haste to the hospital as soon as possible."
The phone slipped off of Rhysand's hand, his eyes red with pain as his heart drummed—both at the news of his mother's death and the day he had died. A kind of pain that reminded him of who he used to be.
A kind of pain that had made him a sinner!