Met My Man When I Was Broke

CHAPTER 3

I started packing my things.

I didn’t have much—just a few clothes, some essentials, and the little I managed to save after everything burned. Still, there were things to fix, to fold, to wrap.

This room… it held what was left of my world.

Every corner carried traces of exhaustion, comfort, and temporary peace. Even if it wasn’t mine to begin with, I’d grown attached to it. Maybe because it held me when I had nowhere else to go.

I sighed softly, glancing around.

There was a strange heaviness in the silence.

I would miss this room.

Not because it was grand or beautiful, but because it reminded me of survival. Of kindness I didn’t expect.

And even though it bruises my pride to admit it—I’m thankful to Damian.

For charity.

For the roof.

For not asking too many questions when I needed a place to breathe.

Maybe I’ll never say it to his face.

But deep down, I know: I wouldn't have made it this far without that temporary shelter… even if it came from someone as annoying—and confusing—as him.

“That guy is a hero to me.”

I snapped back to reality when someone knocked on my door. I opened it to find Damian standing there in his pajamas. Messy hair, sleepy eyes—and still somehow looking effortlessly good.

“What do you need?” I asked, leaning on the doorframe.

“When are you moving out?” he asked directly.

“Tomorrow.”

“Alright. I’ll give you a ride,” he said, just like that—like it was already decided.

I shook my head lightly. “No need. I can manage. I’ll book a ride or something.”

He raised an eyebrow, folding his arms. “You’re seriously planning to carry all your boxes by yourself?”

“They’re not that heavy,” I reasoned. “I don’t want to trouble you.”

Damian sighed and leaned against the wall. “Estella, just let me do this. It’s the least I can do after everything. Besides… it’s not like I’ll carry the world on my shoulders.”

I stared at him for a beat, then gave a half-smile. Typical Damian—stubborn and unexpectedly kind when you least expect it.

“Fine,” I said. “But just a ride. No dramatic goodbyes or speeches.”

He smirked. “Deal.”

—--

The maids helped me pack my things and carry the boxes down to Damian’s car. There weren’t many, but still enough to make me feel like I was really moving on—from this house, from this chapter.

“Thank you, guys, for everything you’ve done for me,” I said sincerely, facing the group of maids gathered by the front door. “I promise I’ll visit.”

They smiled warmly. One of them wiped a tear. “Yes, Lady, we will miss you too.”

Damian stood at the door, arms crossed like some sort of royalty in loungewear. Well, that’s kind of who he was here—king of the house. With all these maids around, it really did feel like I’d been living in some modern palace.

“Let’s go, Estella,” he said, jerking his head toward the car.

I nodded and followed him out.

We got into his car, and as he started the engine, a comfortable silence filled the space between us. The hum of the air-conditioning, the sound of tires on pavement—it all felt a little too quiet.

Just as we hit the main road, Damian glanced at me. “You eaten yet?”

I looked out the window. “I’m good.”

“That’s not an answer.”

I turned to him. “I’m really fine. Just want to settle in first.”

He didn’t respond right away, but I saw that stubborn look in his eyes. And sure enough—

“Let’s stop somewhere and eat,” he insisted.

“I said I’m okay, Damian.”

“Okay, and I’m saying I’m not letting you move into a new place on an empty stomach. Come on, I’m starving too.”

I sighed, a smile tugging at my lips despite myself. “Fine. But I’m treating you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You? Treating me?”

“Yes. We’re going to Jollibee,” I said proudly.

That got a laugh out of him. “Wow. How generous.”

“Hey, don’t judge Jollibee. It’s comfort food.”

“Alright then,” he said, smirking. “Chickenjoy and a Coke float. Don’t forget.”

“Deal.”

And just like that, the tension melted. For a moment, it felt like things were simple again.

We pulled up to the Jollibee we saw on the road. Damian parked the car, and we stepped inside the familiar fast-food joint.

“Order me some Chickenjoy, spaghetti, burger, and fries,” I said, handing him my card. “Use this and get whatever you want. I’ll find us a seat.”

He gave me a puzzled look. “What? They don’t have a menu or a waiter or something like that?”

I laughed softly. “Relax. It’s Jollibee, not a fancy restaurant. You order at the counter.” I pointed toward the counter. “See the line? You’ll go there.”

He frowned. “No way.”

I smirked. “Come on, it’s not that bad. Just pick what you want and pay. Easy.”

He sighed but nodded, obviously trying to keep up. “Alright, alright. But if I get lost in line, you’re helping me.”

“What line? They’ll assist you or ask what you want anyway. I’ll come with you,” I said, standing up.

In no time at all, we were ordering together because Damian clearly had no idea how to do it alone. I couldn’t help but smile at his awkwardness, but it was kind of endearing.

“Don’t smile like that, Estella,” he said with a smirk. “You know I’m not used to ordering food like this.”

I laughed softly. “Sorry, I can’t help it. But hey, at least now you know how,” I teased him.

After finally placing our orders, we found a cozy corner to sit and wait for our food. As the trays arrived, I couldn’t help but get excited to introduce Damian to my favorite comfort food.

“Okay, so this is Chickenjoy,” I said, handing him a piece. “It’s their famous fried chicken—crispy on the outside, juicy on the inside. You have to try it.”

Damian took a bite, and his eyes immediately lit up. “Wow, this is really good! Where has this been all my life?” He laughed, clearly impressed.

I smiled, amused by his reaction. “Told you. You’re gonna love it. You have to bring your friends here next time.”

He nodded eagerly. “Definitely. I’ll introduce them to Jollibee. They’ll thank me later.”

I chuckled at how innocent and earnest he was about it. “You’re such a newbie, Damian. But it’s cute.”

I couldn’t help but smile as I watched Damian take another bite of his Chickenjoy, looking like a child who just discovered candy for the first time. The way his eyes lit up, the satisfied little nod he gave—it was adorable, honestly.

Who would’ve thought? Damian—tall, broody, “I-own-several-suits” Damian—getting amazed by Jollibee like it was some five-star cuisine.

I felt a weird warmth in my chest. A twist. A skip. A freaking flutter.

I frowned and looked away.

What the hell.

Hey, heart—what the f**k?

Since when do you beat faster just because someone likes fried chicken?

And yet, there it was—that dumb flutter every time he smiled or laughed or looked at me like I was the best part of his day.

I cleared my throat and stabbed my spaghetti with unnecessary aggression. “It’s just food,” I muttered. “Calm down.”

But my heart? Oh no. My heart was already planning the next Jollibee date.