Chapter 4 Where the First Light Finds Them
1552 Words
It was strange.
They were standing in a wash of molten gold, sunlight warm and alive around them—and yet Lila felt an ache rise behind her ribs, tightening her throat until tears threatened to spill.
Many years later, she would understand why. It wasn’t only the beauty of nature that unraveled her. It was something quieter, deeper—the resonance between two solitary souls. Lonely people release a scent of their own, a kind of invisible pheromone only other lonely hearts can smell. The happy never notice it. But she and Manny did.
Their first true line of dialogue was soft, fragile, almost too honest for dawn: “Is it how you imagined it, Manny?”
She guessed that the last time he sneaked out of his room—before falling from that tree—he must’ve been trying to see the sunrise too, and fate had robbed him, but this morning gave it back.
“Not exactly,” the boy murmured. His thin shoulders rose and fell. “I thought the sun would jump out all at once. But it… climbs.”
“That’s the magic of it,” Lila said. “The slow rising is what makes it worth watching.”
This time he turned his face to her—truly looked at her. “Who are you?” he asked. “And how do you know my name?” Only then did Lila realize: Manny had never actually met her. He’d been unconscious when she found him bleeding in the flowerbed.
Should she tell him? Should she explain everything that led them here?
“I saw you in the garden earlier,” she said lightly. “A nurse called your name.”
“I thought you might be… someone else.”
“Someone else?”
“No one.” He looked away.
“Are you sick too?”
“No, my mom is.”
“What’s wrong with her?”
“Cancer.” Lila’s voice dimmed, as if shaded by a passing cloud.
“I’m sorry,” Manny said. “I hope she gets better soon.”
“Thank you.”
They talked about nothing and everything—small questions, small answers, but neither of them stood up to leave.
The sun climbed higher, spilling warm light into every corner of the garden. Only then did a frantic nurse rush outside.
“There you are! Manny! You can’t keep running off like this—thank goodness you’re safe. Come on, let’s head back.” She didn’t dare step into the flowerbed, but leaned awkwardly forward, hand outstretched. Manny didn’t move.
“I’m not going.”
“Why not?”
“Like I said, I’m not leaving.”
“Please, Manny—you need a good rest. Let’s go back, alright?”
“Why does no one listen to me?” His voice sharpened—not loud, but painfully clear.
“Is it because I’m a child? I just want to sit here. I’m not bothering anyone.”
The words stunned both Lila and the nurse. He was right. He saw too clearly the arrogance adults often carried—the way they dismissed a child’s desires simply because they were “childish.” As if adulthood gave them the right to decide what mattered.
All Manny had ever wanted was someone who talked with him, not down to him. Someone who didn’t scold him before even understanding him. And perhaps that was why he stayed with Lila. Because when she first found him out of place, out of bounds, out in the cold night—her first words hadn’t been the usual adult alarm: “Kid, what are you doing out here alone? Where are your parents?” Instead, she had spoken to him as if he were a person, not a problem.
“Why don’t we go back together?” Lila gently suggested. “Are you hungry?”
“I don’t usually feel hungry,” he replied simply.
“You know, I worked all night, and now I’m starving. How about we grab something to eat so you can keep me company?”
He looked up with a spark of curiosity.
“What do you do at night?”
“I work at a Chinese restaurant.”
“Chinese food?” A flicker of interest lit his eyes.
Lila caught it instantly. So he liked Chinese food.
“Yes,” she said. “And I’m pretty good at cooking it too. If there’s ever a chance, I’ll let you try something I make.”
“People only say that when there isn’t a chance.”
Another sentence far too sharp for a child. Another reminder that something—some history—had aged him beyond his years.
“Then how about this,” she said impulsively. “I’ll cook for you today. Right now.”
She promised Manny she’d return before noon, then dashed off—to the supermarket, to buy fresh ingredients; to her apartment, to cook two meals—one for Manny, one for her mother. She made seafood lo mein and kung pao chicken, hot, fragrant, lovingly packed, and she finally got a moment to clean herself up.
When she opened Manny’s hospital room door, she froze. Those emerald eyes—polished, cold, unreadable—locked onto hers. Adrian Kade. In a beige knit polo and khaki trousers, effortlessly elegant, unfairly composed.
He wasn’t going to the office today—she could tell. Otherwise, he’d be wearing a suit. And Lila suddenly felt absurdly, stupidly grateful she’d washed her face, brushed her hair, changed her clothes. Had she walked in looking like she had that morning—sleep-deprived, disheveled, smelling of oil and cleaning spray—she would have wanted the earth to swallow her up. Not because she cared about him, but because pride was a fragile thing.
“Mr. Kade,” she said, forcing steady breath, “I brought something for Manny to eat.” She lifted the lunchboxes as proof, then set them on the table, eager to leave.
“You’re leaving already?” Manny called, surprised. “I thought you wouldn’t come back. But you did.” His smile—small, soft—finally belonged to a child his age.
“Of course,” she said. “I keep my promises.”
Adrian watched in silence, not interrupting or blinking, just watching them.
Manny opened the box, and the sweet-sour aroma of kung pao chicken filled the room. Adrian heard the quiet “wow” that slipped from the boy’s lips.
“There’s also lo mein,” she said. “Try it—if you like it, I’ll make you something different next time.”
Manny sampled a bite, then nodded, pleased. “You weren’t lying. You’re good at this.”
Lila tried—tried so hard—to ignore the weight of Adrian’s gaze. That unwavering stare burned into the edge of her vision no matter how she angled herself. Why was he looking at her like that? Before she snapped and demanded he stop, she announced she needed to go—her mother’s lunch would get cold.
But just as she reached the door—
“Miss Harris,” Adrian said, “may I speak with you?”
She nearly jumped.
Then they stepped outside, and he went straight to the point.
“You called me yesterday.”
“Yes. Mrs. Kade answered.”
A pause. A faint narrowing of his eyes.
“Who?” he asked slowly, frowning.
“Mrs. Kade,” she repeated, confused. “Your wife, or girlfriend, or…”
She swallowed the word mistress. She wasn’t sure if it was appropriate. Although she knew a mistress wasn’t something unfamiliar to rich and prestigious people like him.
“She’s my colleague,” he finally said. “I was in the restroom. She picked up my phone, thinking it might be urgent.” The explanation slipped out of him almost too easily. Unnecessary, even.
Lila nodded awkwardly, not knowing what to say.
“You had an issue with me paying your mother’s medical bills,” he continued.
“No,” she corrected softly. “Not an issue. I just don’t think it’s… appropriate.”
“What do you mean by appropriate. You saved my nephew; this is not a big deal.” His voice cooled, like nothing in this world is a big deal to him.
“You don’t need to be so dramatic, Miss Harris.”
The word hit her like a slap. Dramatic. Was that what he thought of her principles? Her dignity?
“You are free to see it however you wish,” she replied, steady and calm. “But I said I would repay you. All I need is time. If you really want to thank me, then let me return the money properly.”
She wasn’t rejecting his help because her mother needed it. But she refused to be indebted without honor. Adrian studied her for a long moment—as if recalibrating something inside himself.
“I actually have a better idea,” he said at last. “One that allows you to accept the repayment with dignity that you truly value.”
She looked up, wary. “What is it?”
“I’ll give you a job.”
- Writer
