[Chapter 05] - Along Came Our Love

 Chapter 05 - 

Mina had fallen back into the routine of being Thara’s housekeeper.

Every Tuesday and Thursday evening, she found herself in his apartment—and he, too, was always there at exactly 7:30 p.m. sharp. Never early, never late.

The man was a wall of silence. While she bustled around scrubbing, dusting, and straightening, he sat in his usual spot on the couch, either absorbed in a thick book or typing away at his laptop.

For Mina, who preferred chatter to quiet, the place felt like a temple. No music, no TV—just the soft rustle of a page turning, the faint hum of the refrigerator, and her own occasional sigh echoing into the still air.

By the time she put away her cleaning tools, every muscle in her body screamed. Doing two jobs a day took its toll—her shoulders stiff, her legs trembling from standing too long. She twisted her neck until she heard a soft click, then exhaled.

“Done already?”

She jumped slightly at the voice behind her.

Thara stood there in a plain white T-shirt and gray sweatpants, hair damp from a recent shower. A loose strand clung to his forehead, his skin pale and faintly glowing under the warm light.

“Yes. I’m going now,” she replied, forcing a polite tone. Slinging her backpack over one shoulder, she gave a small, respectful bow.

“Thanks for your work,” he said, brushing his bangs back with one hand.

“It’s my job. No need to thank me.” She smiled out of habit—

grrrrl—

Her stomach growled, loud enough to echo in the silence.

Mortified, she froze, smile still glued to her face, and took a step backward toward the door—praying he hadn’t heard.

In the elevator, Mina pressed a hand to her stomach. She hadn’t eaten since her shift at the mart ended. She glanced at her watch—almost nine p.m. No wonder her body was protesting.

The doors were about to close when they slid open again. Thara stepped in, a light jacket thrown over his shoulders. His breathing was uneven, as if he’d rushed.

Their eyes met. For a second, she thought he looked—flustered? Then his expression reset, calm and cool.

Where’s he going at this hour? she wondered.

“I’m stepping out for a bit,” he said, clearing his throat.

Again, could this man seriously read her mind?

Mina nodded but stayed quiet. The small space suddenly felt too close. She turned and sniffed her shirt—no issues there—then edged a little farther away from him, just in case.

Her stomach was hollow, and the silence stretched like thin glass between them.
“Good night,” she said, stepping forward.
Her body stopped mid-step. She turned, startled, to find Thara’s hand gripping her bag.

When the elevator reached the ground floor, she exhaled in relief.

She was almost out when her backpack jerked backward.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

Without answering, he pressed the button for B1. The doors closed before her.

“It’s late. I’ll drive you home,” he said. “Where do you live?”

Her jaw dropped. “It’s fine. The bus is still running.”

“I’m heading out anyway. I’ll give you a ride.” His voice was cool and crips. Like he was doing her a good deed.

Mina shook her bag off his grip. Couldn’t he say that in a normal way? He really doesn’t know how to be nice, does he?

Still, the corner of her lips curved into a small smile. Beneath all that coldness, the man wasn’t half as heartless as he seemed to be.

In the basement parking lot, his car waited in a corner, the black paint glinting faintly under the fluorescent lights. He walked ahead, unlocked it, and pulled the passenger door open.

“Get in.”

Mina hesitated, then slid into the seat, pulling the seatbelt on.

“Mind if I stop by the mart first?” he asked as the engine came to life.

“Sure,” she said. It would save her a trip—she could grab something quick to eat.

Inside the store, the blast of cold air hit her face, sharp with the scent of coffee and instant noodles. Mina rubbed her arms, wandering down the aisles.

“This looks good,” she murmured, picking up a pre-made rice box with chicken stew.
“Pickled bean shoots!” Her face lit up. She hugged the jar for a second, then hunched to check the price.
“Twelve thousand Tiers? For this tiny thing?” She exhaled through her nose. “City prices are criminal.”
—this man.

Then her eyes landed on a jar of pickled bean shoots.

She set it back on the shelf, her shoulders sinking. With what she had left, it was either this or tomorrow’s bus fare—not both.

At the register, she placed her rice box on the counter. A shadow appeared beside her—Thara, holding a basket.

“I’ll pay for everything together,” he told the cashier.

“I’ll pay for mine,” Mina said, grabbing for her box.

He took it from her again and placed it with his things. “Wait for me outside.” He pointed toward the tables by the storefront.

Her brows lifted. “Excuse me?”

“Just go.” His tone left no room for argument.

She shot him a look but obeyed.

Outside, the night air brushed cool against her face. Cars streamed past, their headlights slicing through the dark. Back in Shudouk, nights were silent except for crickets and cicadas. She had imagined city life countless times, but now that she was living it, it still felt surreal.

And the only thing making it feel real was—

Thara came out and set the rice box in front of her. “Eat it while it’s hot. I had it reheated.”

“Thanks.” Mina opened it and dug in, eating fast and without care for appearances. Hunger overruled manners.

A moment later, he placed a jar of pickled bean shoots and a bottle of water in front of her. “Have some of these too.”

She blinked. “How did you—” She stopped, staring at him as he sipped milk from a straw like it was nothing. Had he been watching her in the store? Suspicious.

Still, she twisted the lid open. “This is so good,” she said, kissing it with glistening eyes.

Thara chuckled—the first smile she’d seen from him. A passing car’s headlights lit up the sharp lines of his face, and Mina realized she wasn’t breathing. She quickly looked down.

She dipped the plastic spoon in the meal box, mixing the rice with the stew. When she glanced up, his gaze was already on her.

“Why aren’t you eating? Are you picky with food?” he asked, dropping his empty carton on the table.

“I’m not. I eat anything—except spicy food.” She shoveled a spoonful of rice into her mouth. “Unlike someone who can’t even stand a bit of smell.”

Thara’s eyes narrowed. “Are you talking about me?”

She swallowed and looked off to the side. “You never let any of the housekeepers cook in your kitchen. I just assumed you didn’t like strong smells.”

“It’s not about the smell,” he muttered.

Mina leaned forward. “Then what?”

He hesitated. “Once, I saw a video where a housekeeper spit into her employer’s milk...”

A pause.

She blinked, then burst into laughter. “That’s why you only keep bottled water in your fridge? You’re serious?”

“It’s not funny—it’s about hygiene,” he said, frowning.

“It’s about trust,” she countered. “Unless you made someone mad enough to do that. Oh, wait—” Her smile widened. “In your case, maybe they would.”

He pushed back his chair. “Are you done? Let’s go.”

Mina grabbed her water and the precious jar, stuffing them into her bag. She followed him out, grinning under her breath.

In the car, he handed her his phone.

“Where do you live? Type it in.”
“You can stop there on the right.”

She entered her address. The GPS took over, and they drove in silence.

As they neared her neighborhood, she pointed ahead.

Thara pulled over and glanced around.

“Thanks for the dinner and the ride,” she said, unbuckling her seatbelt.

“I was going out anyway.” He reached to the back seat, grabbed a shopping bag, and shoved it into her hands.

“For me?”

“Who else?” he muttered, not meeting her eyes.

Mina blinked, caught off guard. There it was again—the sarcasm. She lingered, unsure whether to accept it.

“Aren’t you getting off?” Thara turned to her, his brows furrowed.

“I am.” She opened the door and stepped out. “Thanks.”

“Go on in. I’ll wait until you’re inside,” he said.

Mina closed the door and crossed the street to an old, three-story building. She climbed the narrow stairs to the second floor. At her door, she turned back and waved just as his car pulled away.

“What’s with him today?” she muttered, peeking into the bag. Inside were breakfast snacks and a carton of milk. She couldn’t quite make sense of his sudden kind gestures, though she guessed maybe he just wanted to keep her tending to his place.

Leaning against the cold steel railing, Mina tilted her head up. The moon was half-hidden behind the clouds. A gentle breeze slipped through her jacket, making her shiver. She hugged herself, eyes stinging.

It had only been around three months, but life in the city proved no joke. And it felt like ages since anyone had shown her this kind of kindness. To say she wasn’t touched by Thara would’ve been a lie. But she couldn’t let herself wavered—not when she had come here with a purpose.

She clutched the bag tighter and exhaled.

“Xin… just where are you?” she whispered, covering her eyes.

Story by: Airy Yang

All characters and events in the story are fictional