21. Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
Ramen on a Rainy Day
SAL
Makati City
Theola was a boon for this project, and she had Willow to thank for it.
So after they returned from their day trip, Sal thought she would surprise them by buying them gifts.
And where better to look than the Legaspi Sunday Market?
The weekend flea market hosted many small local businesses and artisan finds.
Her task was simple that morning—buy groceries, stop by the Sunday market to buy a thank-you gift for Theola and Willow, and look for a new phone.
Having saved a bit of the budget on Taal Heritage Town allowed Sal to buy a phone without guilt, and with it came so much relief.
She had grown weary of the long emails and the video calls during odd hours of the day, and missed him even more.
Losing her phone made her realize how important communication was, especially for long-distance relationships.
Being without Rafa was like going to the beach without sunscreen, or having forgotten your meds during a trip. He was an essential part of her.
I’ll call him later with my new phone, she thought, excited as the wind blew past her while she crossed in the pedestrian lane.
She looked up and saw the sun was shining through the clouds; it was a good thing she’d worn linen for this hot day.
She tied her hair up in a ponytail; loose strands and curtain bangs framed her face as she did so.
When she arrived at the Sunday market, she strolled through the stalls languidly and stopped at a small table filled with ornate beads, leather satchels, and weaves.
“Hello, po. Do you see anything you like?” a young lady with bright eyes greeted her.
The glass bead bracelets drew her attention.
One was green with beautiful sparkles embedded within, and a maple leaf acrylic token suspended within a bead.
It reminded her of Willow. “I love the bracelets,” she said as she pointed toward the ones that caught her attention the most. “How much for these?”
“Six hundred fifty pesos, madam. But we have a ten percent discount if you buy two bracelets,” she said with a hopeful gaze.
“In that case, I’ll buy four—the green one with the maple leaf, the pink one with the cat, the purple one with the book, and the clear blue one,” she said as she rummaged through her slashed tote bag and pulled out her wallet.
After she paid the young lady, she happily took the wrapped bracelets. Distracted while placing them in her bag, she accidentally bumped into a tall, unmoving figure.
“Oh!” The impact was powerful enough for her to lose balance.
A big, firm hand gently held her elbow. “You really have a bad habit of tripping over yourself.”
Sal looked up and saw a porcelain, chiseled face peering down at her with a pair of leering black eyes. It was Harmon again. Good Lord. She stood up straight and squared her shoulders.
“Sal,” he said, placing his hands in his trouser pockets. “Doing some weekend shopping?”
“Yes. But what are you doing here?” she asked, trying to sound polite. She hooked her bag over her shoulder and tried to hide the obvious slash on its leather pocket.
Harmon blinked and shook his head slightly. “I’m staying at a hotel nearby and I’ve been meaning to check the Sunday market out,” he said, looking around. “Plus, my assistant would not get off my case about me getting some fresh air.”
“Is your assistant better now?”
Harmon nodded. “Yes, thanks to you.” He tilted his head, looking curious. “What’s wrong with your bag?” he asked.
“Nothing,” she blurted out.
Harmon softly scowled, as if he were trying to piece together a puzzle. “All right, but I’d like to thank you for helping me out with my assistant. Are you free to grab a quick lunch?”
Sal stared at him and blinked. This man intended to take her property and land, yet he wanted to have a friendly lunch with her? “There’s no need to thank me. I just wanted to help.”
There was an awkward pause between them.
“I don’t like being indebted to anyone.” He took out his sunglasses, put them on, and in one fell swoop, picked up the grocery bags she had set on the ground just a few minutes ago and walked away.
“Hey, those are mine!” Sal called after him, “And I really don’t have the time.” She followed behind him like a child being manipulated by a parent.
Harmon ignored her.
“Are you listening?”
Harmon crossed the street without missing a beat.
Sal had no choice but to hurry and catch up with him.
His legs were so long, but he kept pace beside her as they walked through the pedestrian crossing.
When they set foot on the other side of the road, Sal was so irritated she was close to grabbing the heavy grocery bags away from him.
But Harmon pulled her gently by the wrist to the side of a building so the ongoing rush of commuters wouldn’t run into her.
That’s when Sal felt a slight drizzle on her head.
It was just about to rain, and she hadn’t brought an umbrella with her.
Harmon led the way, and they took shelter in a building. “There’s a ramen shop just around this corner. We could eat there until the rain stops.”
Sal placed her hands on her hips and shook her head. “I told you I don’t have time for this. And you don’t need to make it up to me.”
“Very well. But right now, you’re about to get soaking wet. You catching a cold and delaying the canvassing of museums is something I don’t have time for either,” he said with a stern expression.
Sal thought about her options as he paced away with those long legs toward the alleged ramen shop. Eventually, she picked up the pace and trailed behind him, cursing herself for not bringing an umbrella.
***
The staff ushered them to the bar, where they sat next to each other. Harmon placed the grocery bags on the ground just next to his feet. “I’ll get the bestseller and a beer, please,” Harmon said to the server.
“I’ll get the classic ramen, no egg, and just water on the side, please,” Sal added.
The ramen shop looked quaint, clean, and minimalist with its warm wood panels and stoneware dishes.
The fragrant smell of pork broth and deep-fried gyoza wafted through the air.
Clanking pots and pans and people slurping their hot ramen sounded in unison.
Her stomach grumbled at all the sensations that surrounded her.
There was a cooler-fridge with a glass door opposite them on the other side of the bar. It showed their reflections if one peered long enough at it. Sal studied Harmon. The translucent glass did just enough to frame the lines of his oval-shaped face.
What was his play? This was the last thing she thought he’d ask of her.
Just a few weeks ago, she was seething with rage at him; now they were beside each other in a ramen restaurant.
Sal never ate out with a man who wasn’t her fiancé.
She had to come up with a good reason to leave, and quickly.
“I’ll have to go right away after. Willow might get worried if I don’t get back in time,” she said, using Willow as an excuse.
A server handed them glasses and a pitcher of water. Harmon poured water for both himself and Sal. “Why not just text her?” he said.
“I don’t have a phone.”
He set the pitcher down. “Why?” he asked, turning toward her and resting one elbow on the bar. “Did you leave it?”
Sal fiddled with the base of her glass. “It’s a long story,” she said, watching the cool droplets form and fall to the table.
“Well, it looks like the rain will take long.” He took a sip of his water. “Regale me with your unfortunate circumstances,” he taunted, placing the glass down perfectly on its coaster.
“I lost it.” She let out a flustered exhale, blowing her wispy bangs ever so slightly into the air.
“You lost it? Or was it stolen?” he asked in a leading tone.
She frowned and turned toward him, her arms crossed over her chest. “How did you—?”
“You stitched up the slash well, but I can still see the stress on the leather,” he interrupted, his eyes traveling to her tote bag.
“Well, yes. Someone stole it,” she admitted and rolled her eyes. “Ha-ha. I bet you’re secretly leering inside.”
“I don’t find joy in other people’s misfortunes.”
There was something so earnest in his tone it felt disconcerting, maybe because she had painted a picture of how evil he was. “But you just asked me to tell you about my unfortunate circumstances,” she said, mocking his voice, and looked him square in the eye. “Who even talks like that?”
Harmon looked like he was going to crack a smile or grimace. He sucked air through his teeth before he responded. “It was a joke.”
“I didn’t know you could joke.”
“That’s because you would have hated me the moment I offered to buy Autumn Town.” He tilted his head, a small smirk forming.
“Can you blame me?” she said, arms still interlocked over her chest. Thank goodness she’d worn her cropped jean jacket. It suddenly felt chilly.
Harmon turned away for a moment and looked to the ground. “I can’t blame you. But it’s only fair that I get what’s mine. It’s just as straightforward as that,” he said with his head still bowed.
“Is it a habit for you to underestimate your rivals?” she asked.
“To say we are rivals is to say we are equals.”
There he was again, looking down at her.
Why did he even bother agreeing to this showdown if he knew he would win?
Was it just for his ego? To crush her hopes?
No matter how much she tried, she had trouble rectifying that the person seated in front of her, in his pristine linen shirt and perfectly ironed trousers, had such thoughts.
But one thing increased her annoyance at him.
“And what’s this whole business about you and Claire?
You’re obviously lying about your connection with her. ”
Harmon frowned. “I’ve traveled all this way to compete with you over a lie? Poe, you need to get more creative if you’re convincing yourself that I’m in the wrong here.”