"Uh, hello?" A voice from behind startled the woman sipping her soda. She turned, one brow arching. "I... I actually come from the Philippines. Do you understand English?" the stranger asked.
The woman nodded. "Yes. I understand English. How can I help you?"
The stranger beamed and clapped, excited. "Perfect. I'm lost. Can you guide me to the subway?"
The woman nodded, then paused before walking with her. She studied the stranger and smiled kindly. "Sorry — but how long have you been living here?"
"About two months, I guess." The stranger's smile didn't waver.
Something shifted in the woman's demeanor. She tilted her head, hands slipping into her pockets. "You're not alone, then?"
The stranger nodded warmly. "No. I live with my boyfriend."
"Do you pay rent here?"
The stranger laughed. "Probably not. My boyfriend owns the house. I just live with him."
The woman studied her for a moment, then said, "That's good. Paying rent here is exhausting."
"Yeah, I bet. Do you pay rent?"
"I was born and raised here." She laughed, then slowed to a stop and turned. "Here's the subway. Next time you go out, bring your boyfriend with you." Her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.
"Thank you so much. Can I know your name?"
"I'm Sandra. And you?"
"I'm Kidlathea. It was nice talking to you." Kidlathea bowed.
Sandra stepped back, waving it off. "Oh — you don't have to bow to me. We're probably the same age."
They laughed, the moment softening between them. Sandra gave a short bow and turned to go, glancing back with a kind grin. Kidlathea waved, and Sandra walked off smiling, hands pressed lightly to her chest.
***
"Sandra, how far along are you?" A petite woman in a whitish-navy suit, rectangular glasses perched on her nose and a sketch pencil tucked between her fingers, leaned into the room.
Sandra didn't turn around. She adjusted the dress hanging on the mannequin. "Almost done. Did you find the model I wanted, Glenda?"
Silence settled behind her. Sandra paused, then turned to find Glenda wearing a pensive look. She furrowed her brows and stepped closer.
"Actually... Jovan already booked that model. We'll have to find another one."
The words landed heavy. Sandra's stomach dropped — her heart didn't race, but something in her cracked quietly. That model was everything to her. The dress fit her like a second skin — but the moment it slipped out of reach, so did the dream attached to it.
She sighed and turned away. Glenda watched her, still wearing that careful expression. "Hey, Sandra — I know how much this mattered to you. But let's just say... everything happens for a reason. For today, at least."
Glenda meant it gently, but the fire in Sandra's eyes hadn't cooled. "If you were in my place, you'd understand the pain," she said roughly. "What would a manager know about an artist's pain?"
Glenda stood frozen as Sandra walked out, slamming the door behind her.
"When will this competition ever end?" Sandra muttered, dragging her hands through her hair.
***
Her back hit the wall and her lungs heaved. The anger surged harder. She kicked the trash bin — it barely survived. "Motherfucker!" Her fingers clenched around a cigarette, thumb grinding uselessly at a dead lighter.
It was empty.
"Fuck! Even this gives out on me!" She slammed the lighter against the wall. "Why does he take everything that's mine?!" Her voice cracked against the empty street, eyes raw and swollen.
"Ulan — don't run! Wait, Ulan!" A bright voice cut through from behind. Sandra spun around as an orange cat darted between her legs, butting against her shins. Before she could process it, a figure rushed into the rundown alley.
Sandra froze. She stood between the cigarette and the figure, breath caught.
"Hey, Sandra! What a coincidence!" The woman's laugh was soft, warm — it melted the tension instantly. Sandra smiled, and the cigarette slipped from her fingers unnoticed.
"Yeah," she said. "Is this your cat, Kidlathea?" She scooped the cat into her arms. It nuzzled into her collarbone, scent-marking.
Kidlathea tilted her head, surprised. "I've never seen him get this clingy with strangers."
Sandra's expression turned thoughtful. Her fingers hesitated against the cat's fur. Something sad flickered in her gaze, lingering in the grime of the alley.
She didn't pet the cat. Gently, she set it down and smiled, bittersweet. "I feed street cats every day. Maybe it's one of them." Her voice was quiet, eyes still fixed on the cat she wouldn't touch.
"That's impossible — he's a house cat." Kidlathea shook her head.
Sandra looked puzzled but didn't push it. She let it go. "Should we get coffee?"
"Sure."
A quiet settled in Sandra as she smiled at the café's sign. The bell rang softly overhead. Tristian looked up, his face brightening at the sight of her. Sandra waved.
Kidlathea glanced between them, curious. Tristian approached with his usual easy smile — calm, composed, professional in a way that suited him strangely well.
"Hello, ladies. What can I get you?" He said it lightly, like it cost him nothing. Kidlathea blushed; Sandra smirked, eyeing him up. "The usual," she said.
"As you wish." He winked and slipped away.
Kidlathea nudged Sandra, eyes still on Tristian. "He seems interested in you."
Sandra forced a tight smile. "No way. We're just like that because I'm a regular. You're overthinking it, Madame." She flicked Kidlathea's forehead lightly, smiling, cheek resting on her palm.
Kidlathea laughed, rubbing her forehead like a scolded kid.
"Aren't you ever afraid strangers might not be who they seem?" Sandra asked, watching her closely.
"I don't mind. I think everyone's trustworthy."
"How can you trust a stranger so easily?"
The silence that followed wasn't empty — it hummed with something else. "Like the way I trusted you," Kidlathea said.
The room went quiet. A blush settled over Kidlathea's cheeks like a mark. She busied herself with Ulan, stroking him absently. Neither of them noticed Tristian approach until he tapped his knuckles on the table.
Sandra blinked, breaking from Kidlathea's gaze. "Oh — you took forever with the cappuccinos, Tristian."
He set the cups down and leaned in. "For your information, I called your name several times. You didn't answer." He flicked her forehead and walked off, mouthing, *"You know why."*
Sandra buried her face in her hands, peeking through her fingers at Kidlathea — bright, delicate, radiant. Something passed between them, and Sandra smiled to herself.
"Hey, can you ask for some milk, Sandra?"
Sandra glanced at her cup. "I think there's enough milk in here."
"For Ulan, I mean."
Sandra started to raise her hand to call Tristian over — then stopped. Her hand lowered slowly. Her eyes drifted to the cat. "What was his name again?"
"Ulan. Cute, right?" Kidlathea laughed, tickling the cat's chin.
Sandra ran a hand through her hair, anxiety rising out of nowhere. Tristian, watching from a distance, walked over and patted her back. "You okay?" he mouthed. She nodded, briefly.
Kidlathea looked up. "Oh, Tristian — can you grab some milk for Ulan?"
Tristian froze for half a second. The cat's name echoed in his head. He glanced between Ulan and Sandra, then nodded. "Sure. Be right back."
Sandra stayed quiet. The silence between them stretched. Kidlathea glanced at her but didn't push. Tristian returned with the milk, stealing a glance at Sandra — still unsettlingly still.
"Sandra, can you help me out? I've got customers." He nudged her gently. She excused herself and followed him to the counter.
"You actually need help, Tristian?"
"Nope."
She rolled her eyes. "Don't waste my time."
She turned to leave, but he caught her arm. Frustration flared — she shot him a look and yanked her arm free. "What's wrong with you?" she hissed.
"Ulan."
One word, and everything around her went still. The noise of the café faded out. "I know what you're feeling right now, sitting across from her," he said, voice low. She shook her head, denying it. "She might not know who she's holding onto — but I know your past, Sandra. Don't hide it. Not from me."
He gripped her shoulders, forcing her to meet his eyes. She looked, but numbly.
"Will she even accept me, if she finds out?" Sandra asked.
Tristian went quiet for a moment, then nodded, giving her a small, tight smile. "She will. Because she believes in who you are now — not who you were." He squeezed her shoulder, and she nodded back.
"After all these years... I didn't think Ulan would recognize me so fast," she said, stirring the milk into her cup.
"Isn't that great? Have you played with him?" Tristian asked, moving back to the espresso machine. His eyes drifted over the café — soft chatter, the climbing vines at the entrance, familiar faces. It pulled a small smile from him. Sandra shook off the daze.
He glanced at her. The way she carried the cappuccino — careful, sincere — caught something in his chest. She gave him a brief smile. "I'll go deliver this," she said, and walked off.
He watched her quietly. Smiling at customers. Joking with kids. Easy, familiar warmth with people she'd known only days. Quiet glances toward Kidlathea.
He paused there — on the way Sandra looked at Kidlathea. He couldn't quite name it yet, but something about it sat strangely with him.