Oakley Ponciano asked, curiosity gleaming in her eyes, "So… what have you been through?"
She didn't know Grace well but, back in college, she'd always felt like Grace Barron had it easy. She made things look effortless—be it her studies, her social skills, or the calm steadiness in her demeanor.
Grace smiled and turned her gaze away. "Oh, nothing worth telling. It's all in the past now."
She had a habit of facing forward. Whatever had happened before belonged to a closed chapter—nothing she wanted dragging behind her to weigh down the present.
"Alright," Oakley said lightly, picking up on the signal and letting it drop.
As they spoke, the waiter arrived with their dishes.
Oakley looked at the plate of shredded pork in garlic sauce and frowned. "Huh, weird… This shredded pork looks different from what I've usually seen. Did they mess up our order?"
Grace gave the dish a glance. "Because it's missing the carrots and black fungus?"
Oakley nodded. "Exactly."
Grace mused, "That means this restaurant is authentic. Real shredded pork in garlic sauce only uses pork, scallions, pickled chilies, and pickled ginger. The versions loaded with carrots and fungus? Fakes."
"What?" Oakley was surprised. "So all the ones I've had were knock-offs?"
Grace ladled a bit of duck soup into a bowl and slid it gently toward her. "This one's the real deal. Try it."
Intrigued, Oakley picked up her chopsticks and tasted a sliver of soup. Her eyes lit up. "Wow… this is amazing. Not greasy at all. I didn't expect you to know so much about food!"
"I've always had a bit of interest," Grace said, picking up a piece of radish. "People around me tend to eat well."
Oakley grinned. "That much is clear. I bet everyone you hang out with ends up gaining weight."
"Oh, definitely," Grace deadpanned. "My friends used to say: 'Decades of dieting gone to waste—the moment you meet Grace Barron, the scale tips over.'"
Oakley burst into laughter, eyes turning into crescent moons. She nearly dropped her spoon and had to cover her mouth. "Grace Barron, you're the worst! You're trying to kill me with laughter so you can inherit my embarrassing internet search history, aren't you? Let me eat in peace!"
Grace smiled and passed her a tissue. "Okay, okay, I'll be quiet now. No more jokes. Please enjoy your meal, Miss Apple."
Oakley took the tissue from her graceful fingers and gave her a playful glare. Who knew Grace could be such a tease?
After their meal, Grace paid the bill, and the two stepped outside.
They exited into a quiet alley. A lazy cat lounged on the stone path, soaking up the sun in perfect relaxation. Birds flitted briefly onto a telephone wire, scanning the scene before taking off again. Green vines crept over low whitewashed walls, swaying in the breeze—a picture of gentle simplicity, like something from an old postcard.
Compared to the chaos of the city, this place felt like a hidden sanctuary.
Grace had always loved places like this—peaceful, tucked away. It refreshed her in a way nothing else could.
Oakley admired the scene and murmured, "People who live here must be so at ease. I bet life's a lot simpler here."
Grace bent down, picking up a spiraling fallen leaf, turning it between her fingers. "It does make a difference. A few years ago, I spent a month in a rural mountain village. I was still kind of a mess back then—emotionally scattered. But the quiet, the slowness… freeing me from life's chaos."
She'd needed it. At the time, her life had felt like a tangled ball of yarn batted around by a mischievous cat—nothing made sense, and she couldn't even see herself clearly.
But after that month, she'd come back… different. Calmer. Like something in her had quietly realigned.
Oakley was intrigued. "What kind of countryside are we talking about?"
"Deep in the mountains."
"Yikes," Oakley frowned slightly. "Bet ordering takeout wasn't an option."
She'd been tempted—until she realized her post-work ritual of scrolling delivery apps wouldn't fly out there.
Grace laughed softly. "Well, it didn't bother me at all. Since, I'm pretty good in the kitchen, so I never worry about that"
Oakley raised a brow. "Seriously?"
Grace nodded. "Yep. My friends used to hang out at my place all the time just to eat. They said my cooking rivaled restaurant chefs."
Oakley grinned playfully. "Well, I can't let that go to waste. Good food is my love language."
"When I'm in the mood," she added with a wink.
Grace quirked a brow and turned to her, still idly twirling the leaf. "Sounds like we're a perfect match, then. I cook, you eat. Perfect."
"Indeed," Oakley agreed lightly, "a match made in heaven."
Grace narrowed her eyes playfully. "So… is Miss Apple ready to sign the marriage contract?"
Oakley scoffed. "We barely know each other. What if I turn out to be a villain?"
Grace's eyes twinkled mischievously. "If anyone should be scared, it's you."
Oakley frowned in confusion. "Why me?"
Grace motioned her closer. "Want to find out?"
Oakley leaned in. "Obviously."
Grace leaned down, her breath warm against Oakley's ear, bringing with it a faint, sweet scent. The tickle of it sent a shiver up Oakley's spine.
"I'm actually a shapeshifting grandma wolf," Grace whispered. "I don't sleep at night. I wait until everyone's in bed… then I turn back into my true form and eat people. Starting with whoever's next to me."
Oakley burst out laughing, startled and amused. "You're unbelievable!"
She gave Grace a light shove, who staggered a step back, laughing and brushing her hair behind her ear, exposing her pale, elegant neck.
Oakley's eyes lingered for a second too long. "Well, lucky you—I'm a Medusa. I might take you down before you get the chance to bite."
"Oh?" Grace tilted her head. "I doubt that."
"Why not?" Oakley crossed her arms.
Grace teased gently. "Look at those delicate arms and legs. You're more of a garden snake. Harmless."
Oakley's eyes went wide. "Like you're so strong?"
"I am taller," Grace pointed out, stepping beside her.
Oakley narrowed her eyes. "Height doesn't matter. I've got brute strength. Want to arm wrestle me?"
She'd always prided herself on being surprisingly strong for her frame. Back in kindergarten, boys would run at the sight of her. Some even called her "Chuck Bass Oakley"—a total boss girl.
Grace raised her brow. "Alright. Let's do it."
Oakley was never one to back down. Scanning their surroundings, she spotted a stone table up ahead. "There. Let's go."
Grace agreed readily, smiling warmly as they walked together.
The afternoon sun filtered through like soft gauze from the sky, blanketing the world in a glowing haze. Oakley walked ahead, arms folded behind her back, hands clasped, her curls bouncing gently as she moved—like a visual sonnet.
Grace watched her for a moment, then smiled and caught up.
They sat across from each other at the table. Oakley extended her arm. "Ready?"
Grace didn't say a word, simply met her hand with hers.
Oakley bit her lip. "Okay. I'll count. One, two, three—go!"
And she pushed.
Grace looked calm, almost lazy. But slowly, her arm began to tilt under Oakley's strength. It was real. Oakley wasn't bluffing—she was strong. Strong enough to scoop Grace up princess-style, probably.
But just as Oakley was about to pin her hand fully to the table, Grace suddenly surged forward and slammed Oakley's hand down on the other side.
Oakley blinked. "What… just happened?"
She looked at her hand in disbelief, flipping it back and forth. "I lost? Chuck Bass Oakley actually lost?!"
Grace couldn't stop laughing. Watching Oakley's utterly dumbfounded expression was too much.
Oakley scowled. "What are you laughing at?"
Grace shook her head. "Nothing. Just thinking…"
"…you're pretty cute."
Oakley raised her chin, crossing her arms beneath it. "What, did I win your heart? Trying to flirt with me now?"
Grace lowered her lashes, then leaned closer, eyes shimmering like a spring dream. "What if I am?"
"You gonna let me?"