---
The apartment was warm, filled with the comforting scent of garlic and herbs sizzling in the pan.
Steam rose in soft clouds from the bubbling pot on the stove. She moved gracefully around the tiny kitchen, stirring, flipping, seasoning—her rhythm smooth and practiced.
He watched her silently from the corner, leaning against the counter hands on his chin.
His eyes followed every movement she made with fascination.
"Why do you sprinkle the salt in the air like that?" he asked curiously.
She smiled without turning. "Because it spreads more evenly. Learned it from my grandma."
He tilted his head thoughtfully, committing the motion to memory.
When lunch was ready, they sat together at the small table by the window.
Sunlight filtered in, casting golden streaks across the wood and bathing the room in a soft, honey-like glow.
He ate slowly, savoring every bite.
After they finished, he glanced at the sink full of dishes. "Can I… wash them?"
She was about to protest— about to tell him no he should relax—but when she looked up and saw the hopeful gleam in his eyes, the words caught in her throat.
Instead, she simply nodded and stood, leading him to the sink.
They stood side by side, hands brushing occasionally in the soapy water.
She washed; he rinsed.
Their quiet laughter echoed in the kitchen, a gentle soundtrack to a moment that felt unexpectedly intimate.
---
When the last plate was set aside to dry, she checked the time.
"It's almost twelve," she said. "You should get ready. I'll walk you to the restaurant."
He nodded, drying his hands on the towel by the counter.
Soon, they were outside, the winter air nipping at their cheeks as they walked the short distance to the small restaurant where he'd be working.
---
Inside, the manager handed him a bright red delivery jacket and a pair of gloves.
His name tag read only one word—Ah Yan.
She saw him struggling with the helmet straps.
She helped him with it and to adjust the collar. "Don't take the coat off. It's cold, remember?"
He grinned. "Yes, ma'am."
She smiled softly. He looked so cute and happy like a child after being given a candy.
She hesitated, eyes lingering on him. "If you need anything… oh." Her words trailed off as she wanted to tell him to call her but then remembered he didn't have a phone. "Just take care, okay?"
He nodded, his expression relaxed. "I will."
"Also, remember to wait for me here after you're off work, okay?" She told him.
"Okay."
She then turned to leave, but her feet were heavy.
At the door, she glanced back. He was staring at the scooter parked outside and the people around.
He looked unsure, like a child about to ride a bike without training wheels for the first time.
She smiled faintly, then forced herself to walk away.
---
On the bus, her mind spun like a broken carousel.
What if something happens to him? What if he forgets where to go? What if someone takes advantage of him? What if he gets hurt?
She clutched her bag tightly, heart thudding. Then she closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
Lin Yue, relax.
He'll be okay.
He will.
He must be.
Work distracted her, but not enough.
---
At six, she clocked out, practically sprinting to the bus stop.
The restaurant lights were on when she arrived, but the street was quiet.
And then she saw him—sitting on the scooter, helmet off, cheeks flushed from the cold looking around curiously.
He looked up as she approached.
"Ah Yan," she greeted.
His face lit up. "Yueyue. You're back?!"
"How was your day?"
He smiled wider. "Good. I made four deliveries."
"You did four already? That's amazing!" she said, genuinely impressed.
He scratched the back of his neck shyly. "It was fun."
She laughed and climbed onto the scooter behind him. "Well, Mr. Deliveryman, take me home."
"Yes, ma'am."
---
The ride was smooth, the wind tugging at their clothes, laughter carried behind them like a shared secret.
They talked about his deliveries—how one customer had given him a tip and another had scolded him for being slow.
She found herself smiling more than she had all day at his stories.
He looked happy.
Genuinely happy.
---
When they reached the apartment complex, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting a lavender hue across the sky.
Stars were beginning to twinkle like shy eyes peeking through a veil.
They walked up the steps slowly, still caught in conversation.
She was telling him about an annoying customer at her job when angry voices echoed down the stairwell.
She froze.
The voices were coming from her floor.
Her blood ran cold.
Without another word, she took off, her boots thudding heavily against the steps as she raced upward.
He followed close behind.
And then she saw it.
---