Chapter 3: Noona

‎I should have known that meeting Zayn Montero once would already be enough to ruin the peaceful morning I had promised myself. Not because he did anything particularly wrong.

‎

‎In fact, he had been kind.

‎Too kind, actually.

‎

‎He bought me breakfast without asking for anything in return, helped me when I almost got hit by a motorcycle, and somehow managed to make me laugh when I had spent the past few months forgetting what it felt like to genuinely smile.

‎

‎The problem was that I couldn't understand why being around him felt so easy.

‎

‎After everything that happened with Logan, I had trained myself to be careful around men. I watched their hands. I listened to their voices. I paid attention to their expressions whenever they became annoyed. I learned to notice the smallest changes in their moods because those little changes used to determine whether my day would end peacefully or painfully. But with Zayn, I didn't feel the need to do any of that, and that scared me.

‎"So, Aurelia."

‎

‎I looked up from my empty plate.

‎

‎Zayn was still sitting across from me, casually drinking his coffee as though we had known each other for years instead of less than an hour.

‎

‎"Yes?"

‎

‎"Where do you live?"

‎

‎I immediately became cautious.

‎

‎"Why?"

‎

‎He blinked.

‎

‎"Why are you asking me why?"

‎

‎"Because you asked where I live."

‎

‎"That's a normal question."

‎

‎"Not when a stranger asks."

‎

‎He leaned back against his chair and stared at me for a moment before laughing.

‎

‎"Okay. You're definitely from the city."

‎

‎I frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

‎

‎"Nothing. You just look like someone who's always suspicious."

‎

‎"I'm not suspicious."

‎

‎"You asked me why I wanted to know where you live."

‎

‎"That's not suspicious. That's being careful."

‎

‎"Same thing."

‎

‎I rolled my eyes.

‎

‎"Where do you live, then?"

‎

‎He pointed toward the road with his thumb.

‎

‎"About ten minutes from here."

‎

‎"That's it?"

‎

‎"That's it."

‎

‎"You don't have a proper address?"

‎

‎"I have one."

‎

‎"Then why did you say ten minutes?"

‎

‎"Because that's easier."

‎

‎I stared at him.

‎

‎He smiled.

‎

‎I sighed.

‎

‎"You really are annoying."

‎

‎"I've been told."

‎

‎"Many times?"

‎

‎"Almost every day."

‎

‎"By who?"

‎

‎"My grandmother."

‎

‎I smiled before I could stop myself.

‎

‎"She sounds nice."

‎

‎"She is. She's also terrifying when she's angry."

‎

‎"Now I'm curious."

‎

‎"You shouldn't be."

‎

‎"Why?"

‎

‎"Because if Lola Cora likes you, she'll feed you until you can't walk."

‎

‎I laughed softly.

‎

‎"That doesn't sound too bad."

‎

‎"Trust me, it is."

‎

‎He finished his coffee and stood.

‎

‎"I should go."

‎

‎I nodded.

‎

‎"Thank you for the breakfast."

‎

‎He waved his hand.

‎

‎"It's nothing."

‎

‎"It isn't."

‎

‎He looked at me.

‎

‎For a moment, his expression softened.

‎

‎"Then you're welcome."

‎

‎Something about the way he said it made me look away.

‎

‎I gathered my things and stood as well.

‎

‎"See you around, Aurelia."

‎

‎"See you."

‎

‎I had only taken two steps when I heard him call me again.

‎

‎"Noona."

‎

‎I stopped.

‎

‎Slowly, I turned around.

‎

‎He was grinning.

‎I narrowed my eyes.

‎

‎"Don't."

‎

‎"Don't what?"

‎

‎"Call me that."

‎

‎"Why?"

‎

‎"Because I don't like it."

‎

‎"You didn't say that earlier."

‎

‎"I am saying it now."

‎

‎He laughed.

‎

‎"Okay, Noona."

‎

‎I stared at him.

‎

‎He laughed harder.

‎

‎I shook my head and walked away before I could say something I would regret.

‎

‎I heard him laughing behind me. And despite myself, I smiled. That was the problem. He made me smile too easily.

‎By the time I returned to the little room I was renting from Aling Rosa, the sun was already high in the sky. I placed the small paper bag of leftover food on the table and sat on the edge of the bed.

‎The room was quiet again.

‎

‎Too quiet.

‎

‎I looked around.

‎

‎A few hours ago, I had been sitting beside a stranger and laughing over breakfast.

‎

‎Now I was alone again.

‎

‎For some reason, the silence felt different.

‎

‎I touched my lips and immediately frowned at myself.

‎

‎"What am I doing?"

‎

‎I dropped my hand.

‎

‎I was acting ridiculous.

‎

‎I had just escaped an abusive marriage. My life was still a complete mess. I had no permanent plan, no idea how long I could stay here, and no idea what Logan was doing at that very moment.

‎

‎The last thing I needed was to think about a man. Especially a younger man. Especially one I had known for less than a day.

‎I stood and began unpacking my things.

‎

‎There wasn't much.

‎

‎A few clothes, my documents, my mother's necklace, my wallet, and my phone.

‎

‎I stared at the phone for a long time before turning it on.

‎

‎I knew I shouldn't.

‎

‎But I needed to know.

‎

‎There were twelve missed calls.

‎

‎Nine from Logan.

‎

‎Two from Connor.

‎

‎And one from Mama.

‎

‎My chest tightened.

‎

‎I opened Mama's message first.

‎

‎“Aurelia, please call me when you can. We are worried about you.”

‎

‎I read it twice.

‎

‎My eyes began to sting.

‎I wanted to call her.

‎

‎God, I wanted to, but what would I say?

‎‘Hi, Mama. I ran away from my husband because he hurt me.’

‎

‎I couldn't do it.

‎

‎Not yet.

‎

‎I opened Connor's message.

‎

‎“Where are you? Just tell me you're safe. I won't ask anything else.”

‎

‎I closed my eyes.

‎

‎Connor.

‎

‎Of all the people in my family, he was probably the one who would understand without demanding an explanation. But if I told him where I was, he would come looking for me. And if he came, Logan would eventually know.

‎I couldn't risk it, so I put the phone down.

‎Then Logan's name appeared on the screen.

‎

‎Incoming call.

‎

‎I froze.

‎

‎My fingers hovered over the phone.

‎

‎I could hear my heartbeat.

‎

‎It was ridiculous how a simple ringtone could make my entire body react.

‎

‎The call stopped.

‎

‎Then a message appeared.

‎

‎“You can't hide forever.”

‎

‎I stared at the words.

‎

‎My breathing became shallow.

‎

‎Another message.

‎

‎“Come home before I have to find you myself.”

‎

‎I immediately turned the phone off.

‎

‎I didn't cry. I wanted to, but I was tired of crying. So instead, I opened the window. Warm air entered the room, carrying the smell of grass and soil.

‎I took a deep breath.

‎

‎Then another.

‎

‎Slowly, my heartbeat returned to normal.

‎

‎I looked outside.

‎

‎People were passing by. Children were laughing. Somewhere nearby, a dog was barking. Life was continuing. And for the first time, I realized that maybe I could continue too. Even if I didn't know how.

‎The following days passed more quietly than I expected.

‎

‎I started waking up early because the roosters were apparently determined to make sure nobody in the province slept past sunrise.

‎

‎I learned where the market was. I learned which sari-sari store sold the cheapest bottled water. I learned how to wash my own clothes without ruining them. I even learned that Aling Rosa had an unreasonable hatred for cats because one of them kept stealing dried fish from her kitchen.

‎For the first time in years, I was doing ordinary things. And strangely enough, I liked it.

‎Nobody cared what my husband did for a living. Nobody cared about the Laurent name. Nobody cared that I used to attend expensive dinners or live in a mansion.

‎

‎Here, I was simply Aurelia.

‎The woman renting the small room beside Aling Rosa's house. And somehow, that felt like freedom.

‎On my fourth morning in the province, I was walking toward the market when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

‎

‎"Good morning, Noona."

‎

‎I stopped.

‎

‎I slowly turned around.

‎

‎Zayn was standing there with a basket in one hand and a small towel hanging around his neck. He looked like he had just come from the farm. His shirt was slightly damp from sweat, his hair was messy, and there was dirt on his jeans.

‎I looked at him.

‎

‎Then at the basket.

‎

‎Then back at him.

‎

‎"Are you following me?"

‎

‎He laughed.

‎

‎"I could ask you the same thing."

‎

‎"I was here first."

‎

‎"Not according to my schedule."

‎

‎"What schedule?"

‎

‎"The one where I see you almost every morning."

‎

‎I raised an eyebrow.

‎

‎"We've known each other for four days."

‎

‎"Exactly."

‎

‎"And you're already keeping track?"

‎

‎He shrugged.

‎

‎"I notice things."

‎

‎I tried not to smile.

‎

‎It didn't work.

‎

‎He noticed.

‎

‎Of course he did.

‎

‎"You smiled."

‎

‎"I did not."

‎

‎"You did."

‎

‎"No."

‎

‎He stepped closer.

‎

‎"You definitely did."

‎

‎I turned away.

‎

‎"You're imagining things."

‎

‎"Sure, Noona."

‎

‎I sighed.

‎

‎"You really like calling me that."

‎

‎"I do."

‎

‎"Why?"

‎

‎He thought for a moment.

‎

‎"Because you get annoyed every time."

‎

‎"That's a terrible reason."

‎

‎"I know."

‎

‎I shook my head.

‎

‎He walked beside me as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

‎

‎"So, where are you going?"

‎

‎"Market."

‎

‎"I can see that."

‎

‎"Then why did you ask?"

‎

‎"Conversation."

‎

‎"You don't know how to start a conversation normally?"

‎

‎"No."

‎

‎I laughed.

‎

‎He smiled.

‎

‎For a while, we walked in silence. It wasn't uncomfortable. That surprised me. I had always hated silence around other people because silence used to mean something was wrong. With Zayn, it didn't. It was simply quiet. The kind of quiet that didn't demand anything from me.

‎"You're really from the city, aren't you?" he asked eventually.

‎

‎"Yes."

‎

‎"What made you come here?"

‎

‎I looked at him.

‎

‎There was no pressure in his expression, just curiosity.

‎

‎I looked ahead again.

‎

‎"I needed a change."

‎

‎"That's all?"

‎

‎"That's all."

‎

‎He nodded.

‎

‎He didn't ask another question.

‎

‎I appreciated that. ‎Most people wanted explanations. Zayn seemed content with whatever I was willing to give.

‎When we reached the market, he stopped beside a fruit stall.

‎

‎"Wait here."

‎

‎"Why?"

‎

‎"I need to buy something."

‎

‎"What?"

‎

‎He pointed at a pile of mangoes.

‎

‎"Mangoes."

‎

‎I laughed.

‎

‎"You dragged me here to buy mangoes?"

‎

‎"No. I happened to be going here."

‎

‎"You were following me."

‎

‎"I was not."

‎

‎"You literally appeared behind me."

‎

‎"Coincidence."

‎

‎"You're a terrible liar."

‎

‎He grinned.

‎

‎"Maybe."

‎

‎He bought a few mangoes and returned to me.

‎

‎Then he held one out.

‎

‎"Here."

‎

‎I stared at it.

‎

‎"For me?"

‎

‎"Yes."

‎

‎"Why?"

‎

‎"Because you like mangoes."

‎

‎I blinked.

‎

‎"How do you know?"

‎

‎"You bought mango juice from the store yesterday."

‎

‎I stared at him.

‎

‎"You noticed that?"

‎

‎"I notice things."

‎

‎I took the mango.

‎

‎"Thank you."

‎

‎He smiled.

‎

‎"You're welcome."

‎

‎I looked down at the fruit in my hand.

‎

‎It was such a small thing. A mango. Nothing special. Yet I couldn't remember the last time someone had noticed something as insignificant as my favorite fruit.

‎Logan used to know my favorite perfume. My favorite dress. My favorite restaurant. But those things had always been used against me eventually.

‎Zayn didn't know anything about me.

‎

‎He didn't know my past. He didn't know my family. He didn't know what I had survived. He just noticed that I liked mangoes. And somehow, that felt more genuine.

‎"Why are you staring at it?" he asked.

‎

‎I looked up.

‎

‎"I'm not."

‎

‎"You are."

‎

‎"I was just thinking."

‎

‎"About?"

‎

‎I smiled faintly.

‎

‎"Nothing."

‎

‎He nodded.

‎

‎"Okay."

‎

‎We continued walking, and I didn't know that this was how it would begin. Not with a grand confession. Not with flowers. Not with some dramatic moment beneath the rain. Just mangoes. A quiet morning. And a younger man who kept calling me Noona because he thought my annoyed expression was funny.

‎That afternoon, I was sitting outside my room when I heard a motorcycle stop near the gate.

‎

‎I looked up.

‎

‎Zayn got off.

‎

‎I frowned.

‎

‎"What are you doing here?"

‎

‎He removed his helmet.

‎

‎"I brought something."

‎

‎He held out a small paper bag.

‎

‎I stared at it.

‎

‎"What is that?"

‎

‎"Food."

‎

‎"I already ate."

‎

‎"Good."

‎

‎"Then why did you bring it?"

‎

‎"Because Lola Cora made too much."

‎

‎I looked at the bag.

‎

‎Then at him.

‎

‎"You could have given it to someone else."

‎

‎"I could have."

‎

‎"Then why me?"

‎

‎He smiled.

‎

‎"I don't know."

‎

‎I stared at him.

‎

‎He shrugged.

‎

‎"Maybe I wanted to see you."

‎

‎My heart skipped. ‎Just once, but I felt it.

‎

‎He seemed to realize what he had said because his smile disappeared for a second.

‎

‎Then he cleared his throat.

‎

‎"I mean, because you're new here."

‎

‎"Right."

‎

‎"Yes."

‎

‎"Of course."

‎

‎There was an awkward silence.

‎

‎I looked away. He looked away too. Then I laughed. He laughed with me. And somehow, the awkwardness disappeared.

‎"You're strange," I told him.

‎

‎"So are you."

‎

‎"I'm not."

‎

‎"You ran away to a province you've never been to with one small bag and no plan."

‎

‎I stared at him.

‎

‎"How did you know I had no plan?"

‎

‎"You look like someone who has no plan."

‎

‎I crossed my arms.

‎

‎"Maybe I have a plan."

‎

‎"What is it?"

‎

‎"Survive."

‎

‎His expression softened.

‎

‎He didn't laugh this time.

‎

‎"That's a good plan."

‎

‎I looked at him.

‎

‎He held my gaze for a few seconds before quietly saying, ‎"You can start with one day at a time."

‎

‎Something about those words settled inside me.

‎

‎One day at a time.

‎

‎Maybe that was all I could do.

‎

‎I smiled.

‎

‎"Thank you, Zayn."

‎

‎He smiled back.

‎

‎"Anytime, Noona."

‎

‎I rolled my eyes.

‎

‎"You're never going to stop, are you?"

‎

‎"Nope."

‎

‎"You're impossible."

‎

‎"I've been told."

‎

‎He put his helmet back on.

‎

‎"I'll see you tomorrow."

‎

‎I nodded.

‎

‎"Tomorrow."

‎

‎He started the motorcycle, before he drove away, he looked back at me. And for a brief second, our eyes met. I didn't know why my heart felt strangely light. I didn't know why I was already looking forward to tomorrow. I didn't know why a man I barely knew had somehow become the best part of my mornings. I only knew that when his motorcycle disappeared down the road, I stood there longer than necessary.

‎Watching.

‎

‎Waiting.

‎

‎Hoping he'd turn around.

‎

‎He didn't.

‎

‎I smiled anyway. Maybe this was dangerous. Maybe I was getting attached too quickly. Or maybe, after years of being surrounded by fear, I was simply learning what it felt like to be around someone who made me feel safe.

‎Whatever it was, I knew one thing.

‎

‎I wasn't ready to call it anything yet, but somewhere between the mangoes, the teasing, and the way he kept calling me ‘Noona’...

“Zayn Montero was slowly becoming someone I looked forward to seeing.”