My eyes lingered on the screen of my phone.
Neat digits stared back at me. Today was payday.
There was something comforting about watching the numbers rise, even if the relief only lasted a moment. I couldn't enjoy it the way I should have. I already knew the money wouldn't stay with me for long. A portion of it was destined for Elara.
It wasn't that I resented paying her back. Still, it stung to see my hard-earned money disappear somewhere other than toward myself. I was the one who had worked for it.
Thinking about money inevitably led me back to Alex.
Not long ago, he had finally stopped relying on that pig like man who used to hand us jobs. Instead, he had gone out looking on his own.
I still remembered the day he came back to our room, face bright with excitement, telling me he had found work. A restaurant. The pay was steady and fair. But it didn't come close to what we could earn through the drug trade. At least it was honest. And more importantly, it was safe.
As I thought about handing over a good part of my paycheck to Elara, another thought surfaced. Would she really allow a whole year without interest?
The idea amused me more than I expected. Before I realized it, a faint smile had crept onto my lips.
"What's wrong?"
"Huh?"
I looked up sharply, meeting the bartender's eyes. He was polishing a glass, watching me with casual curiosity.
"You've been smiling to yourself for a while now," he said.
My posture stiffened immediately. The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. I cleared my throat once—then again—as if that could cover it up. Even I wasn't sure what I had found so funny.
Over the past few weeks, something between Elara and me had shifted.
It wasn't that things had improved in any clear, definable way. The intimidation I felt around her hadn't disappeared. But there was a change. I found myself able to smile in her presence—almost as naturally as I did when I was with Alex.
The biggest difference was that Elara had started texting me.
By now, it didn't feel awkward anymore. There was still a faint strangeness to it—like an echo lingering in my ear whenever we spoke on the phone—but it wasn't unpleasant.
She had also started coming by the bar more often. Usually twice a week. Sometimes three times, if she happened to have business nearby. I only knew that because she had mentioned it herself.
We met in person too. Once, when I asked why she had been stopping by so frequently, she brushed it off, saying it wasn't that often. Later, though, she admitted that she sometimes had business in the area.
Another time, I asked her directly if she was coming to see me. She didn't answer outright. She only smiled quietly and said, "Maybe I am."
During those visits, we never talked about anything important. We drank. We chatted lightly—about friends, about life.
Nothing serious.
"You're leaving early today?" the bartender asked as I started to stand.
"Yes. I have an appointment."
The night before, Elara had called and asked to meet on the evening of my payday. She had said she wanted me to treat her.
I still didn't understand how someone as wealthy as she was could be so frugal, but after some back and forth, I had managed to convince her that treating her could count as interest.
I went to the back room, changed out of my uniform, and slipped into my own clothes.
Before leaving, I paused in front of the mirror.
Same brown hood. Same messy hair.
I washed my hands, ran my fingers through my hair, then glanced at my reflection from the side. A faint smile crept onto my lips before I turned and stepped out of the bar.
When I arrived at the location Elara had given me, I was taken aback. All this time, I had assumed she would bring me to some grand, expensive restaurant. Something completely out of my league. But standing there now, I realized how wrong I had been.
"Is… that really the place?" I asked, lifting a finger to point at the modest food stall in front of us.
"What?" Elara said casually. "You don't like it?"
Of course I liked it. The real question was whether she did.
I wanted to ask outright, but hesitation caught me.
"Are you okay with this place?" I asked carefully.
A slow smile spread across her face.
"No, never mind," I added quickly.
I knew that smile. It was the one she wore when she felt like teasing me. And whenever she wore it, I never seemed to come out on top.
Elara placed our order while I took the seat across from her. My gaze lingered on her without me realizing it. For some reason, she seemed even more beautiful than before. I tried to figure out what had changed—but no matter how hard I looked, I couldn't quite pinpoint it.
I didn't dare move any closer. Her touch made me uneasy, reminding me of our second meeting—and of how awkward things had become the first time she gave me a ride.
The place was crowded, filled with noise and movement. Even so, our food arrived quickly. Soon, the small table was covered with steaming plates and chilled drinks.
It had been a long time since I had treated myself like this.
The chef back at the bar was undoubtedly skilled, his dishes always refined. But the food here—simple as it was—had a warmth and charm that no polished kitchen could quite replicate.
"What are you doing?" Elara said as she filled her plate. "Eat."
She didn't hesitate, taking a bite right away.
I stayed still, watching her for a moment longer than necessary. A thought lifted the corner of my lips. I didn't like how unaffected she always seemed.
"I was waiting for the elder to start first."
Elara immediately choked on her food.
She coughed several times before finally steadying herself. When she looked up, she shot me a sharp glare—but I didn't even bother meeting her eyes. Instead, a wide smile spread across my face as I picked up my utensils and started eating, as if I had just scored a small victory.
For some reason, it felt almost like a challenge. Like I wanted to see if I could catch her off guard again.
She didn't look away.
Her gaze stayed fixed on me, heavy and unblinking. When I finally swallowed my food, I hurried to change the subject, anything to escape the weight of it.
"Wow," I said, forcing cheer into my voice. "This is pretty good. How did you even find this place?"
She knew exactly what I was doing. Still, she answered.
"I ate here before."
"Huh. Strange," I said casually, taking another bite.
Even though I had praised it, the food was simple. Modest. Definitely not what I would've expected someone like her to eat.
"What's strange?" she asked.
"That you didn't say you own the place."
She didn't respond right away.
Then, after a brief pause, a charming smile curved across her lips. Without saying a word, she went back to eating.
But the strangest thing of all wasn't the food. Or the place. It was that I was happy.
Happy—simply because I was sitting there with her.