☕ Chapter 4: He Smiled at Her Silence
The bell above the café door gave a soft chime as Erica entered, guided once more by habit and scent and the sound of kind Korean footsteps.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXQRSjBcQXd
Minji always reserved the corner seat for her. Always with her favorite drink—pearl grey milk tea, no sugar, no straw.
She liked this place. It was predictable. It was safe.
The music hadn’t started yet. The café was half full.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzFX16VQw7J
But she felt something… familiar. Not loud. Not spoken. Just… present.
Like a heartbeat she couldn't name.
Jepoy was wiping down the nearby tables with a damp cloth when he saw her again.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡBBX88XMeKw
Same sunglasses. Same calm, unreadable expression. But something about her felt more… anchored today.
She looked like someone who was starting to breathe again, little by little.
He didn’t approach.
He didn’t need to.
But when their gazes accidentally crossed—hers sightless, his unsure—he smiled.
A small one. A crooked, quiet smile.
She didn’t smile back.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUPpqKn8KrQ
She couldn’t even see it.33Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡVTPCY1pRgj
But he smiled anyway.
Because somehow, her silence was the kindest noise he’d heard all week.
Erica tilted her head when she heard the soft steps come closer again.
"Here’s your tea, Miss," the voice said. Filipino again. Familiar. Gentle.
“Thank you,” she replied softly, surprised.
"Do you remember me?" he asked without meaning to.
Erica’s brows furrowed beneath her dark glasses. “Should I?”
He laughed a little. "Maybe not. But I remember you. From… 7-Eleven?"
There was a pause. Then, slowly, her lips parted in realization.
“The Coke.”
“Yeah,” Jepoy smiled, setting the tea gently on the table. “You took my soda. I let you.”
"You didn’t have to." She was embarrassed now. “I didn’t know it wasn’t mine. I wasn’t… thinking.”
"I know," he said gently. “But it looked like you needed it more than I did.”
Silence again. But this time, it wasn’t awkward.
It was restful.
"Do you always let strangers drink your soda?" she asked, almost smiling.
"Only the beautiful ones who cry like they don’t want to be seen."
She paused, lips parting slightly. But there was no sarcasm in his voice. Just honesty. Shy, trembling honesty.
He stepped back after that.
Letting her breathe.
Letting her have space.
He didn't ask her name. Didn't sit beside her. Didn't try to impress.
And yet, when Erica sipped her tea that afternoon, the warmth tasted different.
Like comfort.
Like safety.
Like someone, somewhere in this strange country… wasn't afraid of her silence.
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