Damian
I suggested dinner for one simple reason.
I wasn’t ready to say goodnight.
If anyone asked, I could easily justify it.
She had kept me waiting for nearly an hour because of the jacket, and buying me dinner was a perfectly reasonable way to make up for it.
But that wasn’t the real reason.
The truth was much simpler, I wanted another hour with her.
When Elara finally came downstairs, she had changed into a simple dress with her hair still slightly damp from her hurried shower.
She carried my jacket carefully over one arm, looking almost guilty before she had even reached the car.
“I’m really sorry for making you wait,” she said as soon as she sat down.
“I’ve apologized several times already, but I still feel terrible about it.”
I glanced at her before pulling away from the curb.
“I noticed.”
”You don’t have to sound so satisfied.”
”I’m not satisfied,” I replied.
“I’m enjoying how determined you are to convince me you’re sorry.”
She glared at me.
“Then stop reminding me.”
”I’ll think about it.”
She shook her head, smiling despite herself.
“You really like teasing people.”
”Told you, only the interesting ones.”
For some reason, that made her quiet.
I chose a restaurant a few minutes away.
It wasn’t overly formal, but it was quiet enough that we could actually talk without competing against loud music.
The waiter handed us our menus.
“I should be the one choosing the restaurant,” she said, looking around.
“You lost that privilege when you forgot our original meeting.”
She looked genuinely offended.
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”
”Probably not.”
She laughed softly and lowered her head.
“I created a monster.”
”No,” I corrected.
“You merely gave me leverage.”
By the time the food arrived, the awkwardness between us had almost disappeared.
What surprised me wasn’t the conversation.
It was watching her eat.
Most women I knew treated meals like performances.
They ordered salads they barely touched, picked at their food delicately, or worried about whether they looked elegant while eating.
Elara did none of those things.
She took one bite, her eyes brightened immediately, and she smiled to herself before reaching for another.
“This is really good,” she murmured.
“It is,” I agreed.
“No, I mean really good.” She pointed at one of the dishes.
“You have to try this.”
Despite myself, I obeyed.
She watched me expectantly.
“Well?”
”It’s good,” I said, nodding.
She narrowed her eyes.
“That’s all?”
I couldn’t help smiling.
“You seem personally invested in my opinion.”
”I just don’t like seeing good food go underappreciated.”
I looked at her plate.
She wasn’t trying to impress me or pretending to have a tiny appetite.
She simply enjoyed her meal without worrying about appearances.
For reasons I couldn’t explain, I found it strangely adorable.
“You’ve been staring again,” she said.
“I’m observing.”
She rested her chin on one hand.
“So what have your observations concluded this time, Doctor?”
”You’re different.”
She blinked.
“Different how?”
”Most people are too concerned with how they’re perceived.”
”And I’m not?”
”You forgot to perform.”
She looked genuinely confused.
“I wasn’t aware dinner was supposed to be a performance.”
I shrugged.
“It usually is.”
”Well, that’s exhausting,” she said.
“I spent most of my childhood worrying whether we’d have enough food for the week,” she admitted.
“Now that I can afford to eat something I like once in a while, I’d rather enjoy it than spend the entire meal pretending I’m not hungry.”
Her answer caught me off guard.
There wasn’t a trace of self-pity in her voice.
She was simply stating a fact.
I found myself studying her again.
The more I learned about Elara, the less she resembled anyone else I’d ever met.
She was stubborn without being arrogant, kind without expecting recognition, and proud enough to refuse help even when she clearly needed it.
And somehow, despite everything life had thrown at her, she still found genuine happiness in something as simple as a good meal.
It shouldn’t have affected me.
Instead, it made me like her even more.
After dinner, I drove her home.
She was quiet as I just drove in a comfortable silence until I decided to ask the question that had been bothering me for days.
“So,” I began casually, “how’s your boyfriend?” I asked and frowned slightly.
“I’ve never seen him.”
She laughed quietly.
“Are you interrogating me?”
”I’m just curious,” I replied.
“I’d like to know who keeps leaving his girlfriend to solve everything alone.”
She was quiet for several seconds.
But still didn’t answer.
“Is he busy enough to let you work two jobs?” I asked, glancing at her from the road.
Her fingers tightened slightly around her bag.
“I can take care of myself.”
”I never said you couldn’t.”
She pressed her lips together.
“You implied it.”
”I implied that someone who supposedly cares about you should help.”
She didn’t answer.
Instead, she changed the subject by asking about work.
The more she avoided my questions, the stranger the whole situation became.
She never volunteered a single detail about that guy, not even a complaint.
Nothing.
It was as though this mysterious boyfriend existed only whenever I asked about him.
When we reached her apartment, she smiled politely.
“Thank you for dinner…
and for everything.”
Before I could answer, she hurried inside.
I watched her disappear through the entrance before my phone suddenly rang.
My mother was calling.
“Mom?” I answered on the third ring.
Her cheerful voice nearly burst through the speaker.
“Darling!
I have wonderful news,” she said.
“I had lunch with Amelia today.
And do you know what she saw?”
”I assume you’re going to tell me,” I said, still looking at the direction where Elara went.
“You.”
I sighed, just like what I expected.
“Mom—”
”With a beautiful young woman,” she added before I could say more.
I closed my eyes.
“Mother…”
”Is she your girlfriend?” she asked instantly.
“No—”
”Future girlfriend?
Someone you like?” she probed, I could sense the teasing in her tone.
Silence.
Then, she gasped dramatically.
“You hesitated, Damian.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“Mom, I can’t believe you’re interrogating me over the phone.”
I heard my mother laughed before she asked more gently, “So…
who is she?”
I looked toward the apartment entrance one last time.
“She’s someone… I’m trying to pursue.”
The silence that followed lasted exactly one second.
Then my mother finally spoke excitedly, “Thank God, you’re now on the right path.”