The sun dipped low. Althea didn't even realize when the time passed-by being with him. He tossed her a juice can as he took a seat beside her on a bench. "Told you snack duty was the best job."
She took it, surprised at how natural it felt to sit there with him. "Yeah, I guess it's not so bad."
He leaned back, eyes scanning the sky like he was sizing up the perfect moment to say something clever. After a pause, he finally spoke. "So, what brings you out here alone? Besides judging my amazing coaching skills, of course." his tone was full of charms. almost as he if he was... flirting?
She shrugged, glancing down at the juice can. "Needed to clear my head. Sometimes, my own thoughts get too loud."
He nodded thoughtfully. "I get that. This place... it's good for that. Gives you space to breathe."
She stared at him for a moment—the way his hazel eyes softened when he smiled. "You do this often? Playing with the kids?"
He smirked, then shrugged. "Well. Keeps me out of trouble—and makes me look good."
She laughed, a genuine sound that surprised her. "Looks like they really like you."
"I'm basically a legend around here." He said, eyes sparkling.
She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Sure, legend."
He raised an eyebrow, amused. "You're just jealous you can't keep up with these kids on the field."
She laughed. "Please. If I tried, I'd probably trip over the ball before it even moved."
"Ha! So, you're basically useless on the field and off it," he teased, clearly enjoying the banter.
She shot him a glare. "Better useless than arrogant."
"Touché," he said, laughing in a teasing way.
They fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that didn't need words.
They sat like that for a moment. Then, breaking the silence, he asked, "So… what's your name? Or are you too mysterious to share that too?"
She narrowed her eyes, half-annoyed, half-amused. "It's not like you'd remember it anyway." He chuckled. "Challenge accepted."
"It's Althea."
He repeated it. "Alright, Althea. I'll try not to forget. My name is Adrian."
She smiled, feeling the strange pull of the moment—the start of something neither of them expected.
He smirked again, breaking the moment. "But don't think this means we're friends now."
Her heart stuttered, caught off guard by the way his voice curled around those words—half-teasing, half-guarded, as if a line was drawn with each word he uttered.
"Don't worry," she muttered, looking away. "I wasn't planning on it…"
But her voice trailed off softer than she meant.
There was a pause—just long enough for something unsaid to float between them, something unspoken but not unnoticed.
And though she didn't look at him again, she felt it, that warm smile of his.
As the sun dipped lower behind the trees, casting golden shadows across the field. She didn't say much after that—just watched the kids scatter, said a quick goodbye, and walked off with a strange flutter in her chest.
She didn't look back.
But the whole way home, his voice played in her mind like a song stuck on repeat. It all looped in her head like she'd just stepped out of a daydream.
The sky had darkened by the time she got home. The house was quiet—just the low hum of the fridge and the distant meowing of street cat.
She kicked off her shoes, dropped her phone on the bed, and stared at the ceiling. Her heart still carried echoes of the park—his voice, his teasing smirk, the way the sun caught in his hazel eyes.
She sat up and grabbed her phone. A tiny smile tugged at her lips as she opened her contacts.
Adrian... Adrian.
She tapped the number she typed in a rush, heart skipping just a little. She didn't know why she felt nervous—it was just a message.
Hey, it's me. The snack duty queen.
She hit send.
A beat passed.
Then another.
Her smile started to fade.
A red bubble popped up: "Message not delivered."
She blinked. Tried again. Same result.
"No no no…" she muttered, double-checking the digits. But they were all there. Exactly how she'd typed them.
Wrong number.
She stared at the screen, throat tightening with disappointment.
The chances of seeing him again? Almost zero. She didn't even know his last name. No socials, no clues. Just a brief moment in a park, now slipping away like a dream she couldn't quite hold on to.
Althea lay back on her bed, clutching her pillow close.
She didn't cry.
But she felt that soft kind of sadness—the kind that doesn't make a scene but stays with you like the scent of someone who's just left the room. Maybe that was it, she thought.
A few hours. A nice memory. Nothing more. Still… she wished she'd asked for more than just a number.
The next day, she passed by the park again. No reason, really—just a feeling.
He wasn't there.
She wasn't sure when it became a habit.
Maybe it was the quietness of that afternoon. The way the light hit the grass. Or the softness in his voice when he asked her name, right before everything slipped away.
She went again the day after. And the one after that.
Sometimes she lingered by the field where the kids still played, watching them run and laugh like they always had. Once or twice, she even asked around—just casually.
"Brown hair? Hazel eyes? Was helping with the kids a while back?"
Some shrugged. One woman vaguely remembered him. But no one had seen him lately.
Eventually, she stopped asking.
Work picked up. Days blurred. She stopped checking the place every time she walked past it. But every now and then, when the sky looked a certain way, or someone laughed a little like he did, her mind would flicker back. How easily he felt like someone familiar.
She still had his number saved. She never deleted it.
But the chat stayed empty. Just that one message she'd sent—"Hey, it's me. The snack duty queen."—followed by "Message not delivered."
It didn't sting anymore. Not really.
Some people walk in and out of your life quietly. And maybe that's all they're meant to do. But few leaves a longing. Longing that something could've happened; or something could've gone different.
But she didn't wait anymore. Not really. But sometimes, in the quiet, she still remembered him. Blurry.
Just not as much.
Two months later.
Two months had passed. The days were busier now. The memory of that boy at the park had faded into the corners of her mind—like a half-dream she wasn't sure had even happened.
Althea walked into the living room one afternoon, half-distracted, pulling her hair into a loose tie.
Her father's voice, light with laughter, reached her before she saw him. He was talking to someone—an older man with a warm presence and a sharp suit. They looked comfortable, like old friends reunited.
"Ah, there she is!" her father beamed when he noticed her.
She smiled politely and offered a small nod. "Nice to meet you."
Mr. Velasco stood, shaking her hand with a surprisingly friendly grin. "I've heard a lot about you, Althea. Your father talks non-stop."
She gave a polite laugh, glancing between the two men.
"Of course," her father said, still smiling. "In fact, Mr. Velasco and I were just talking about something very important."
She raised an eyebrow. "…Right."
Then came the words she didn't expect. "I'd like you to meet someone." her father said, almost too casually. "His oldest son."
Her smile faltered.
"…What?"
Mr. Velasco chuckled softly. "He's a good boy. Reserved, but kind. Hope you both like each other."
Althea blinked, heart suddenly heavy in her chest.
Oldest son. Her mind flashed, just for a second, to a park bathed in gold, to a teasing smirk and hazel eyes.
But… no. That couldn't be. Could it?
Because even if her gut whispered something familiar… She hadn't seen that boy since spring. And people change. Even memories.
Althea didn't say much after that.
She sat through the rest of the conversation quietly, nodding where she had to, smiling when expected. Her father was in high spirits. Mr. Velasco seemed kind enough, and yet… the weight of what had just been said pressed heavy on her chest.
Married? Ugh, not the loophole.
That night, she lay in bed staring at the ceiling, her phone resting uselessly on her chest.
Her thoughts tangled around the possibility—What if it was him?And what if it wasn't?
The following weekend,
her father called her into the living room again.
"Dress nicely," he said. "They're coming over for dinner." She didn't ask who. She already knew.
By the time evening came, she was sitting in the living room again—this time in a soft pastel dress, hair loose over her shoulder. She tried not to care.
Then the doorbell rang.
She heard voices in the hallway—her father greeting someone, laughter again.
And then—
He walked in.
Tall, sharp-shouldered. Brown hair messier than before, falling slightly over his forehead.
Hazel eyes that met hers like no time had passed.
Her heart stopped.
He blinked. And then that familiar smirk curved at the edge of his mouth."Snack duty queen?"
Althea's eyes gleamed. "You...?" she muttered under her breath.
Not a question. Not quite a greeting.Just the quiet recognition of a memory that never really left.
End of chapter 2.