Beyond His Cold Smile

Chapter 1: Landing and Late Nights

The wheels of the large aircraft touched down smoothly on the tarmac, bringing an end to Xavier Rios’s fourteen-hour flight from Paris. He let out a quiet, steady breath, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction—only in the cockpit or high above the clouds did he ever feel truly at peace.

At twenty-nine, Xavier had everything most people could only dream of. He was one of the most respected commercial pilots in the industry, and his striking features had also made him the face of several Airline ads and billboards. He was wealthy, famous, and admired wherever he went. Yet beneath the polished exterior, he felt empty more often than not.

He stepped out of the aircraft, his uniform crisp, his posture perfect. He slipped on his dark sunglasses, shielding his eyes and his thoughts from the world. Airport staff greeted him respectfully, some whispering or stealing glances, but he paid them no mind. To them, he was only a name, a face, a status—never just a man who was tired after a long journey.

He drove his sports car straight to his penthouse apartment. It was spacious, modern, and filled with expensive things, but it was always silent. He stripped off his uniform and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the fatigue and the weight of exhaustion. For a few quiet minutes, there were no cameras, no schedules, no demands—only him.

When he dried off and changed into comfortable casual clothes, his phone lit up with messages from his closest friends. They knew him before the fame, and they were the only people who still dared to push him.

“You’re back! Dinner and drinks tonight—no excuses.”

“We’re picking you up at 8. You’ve been away for two weeks, you can’t hide away again.”

Xavier sighed. He would rather have stayed home and slept, but he knew they were right. He typed a short reply: Fine. Be ready.

The evening passed much like any other. They ate at an upscale restaurant, drank expensive wine, and laughed. His friends teased him about being too quiet, too serious, too cold. “You’ve got that permanent snob look on your face again,” one of them joked. Xavier just shrugged and took a sip of his drink. He wasn’t trying to be rude; he simply didn’t have the energy to pretend to be charming all the time.

By midnight, they were ready to head home. “Wait,” one friend said as they got into the car. “We need snacks and drinks for the drive. Let’s stop at the 7-Eleven up ahead—it’s open 24 hours right?”

Xavier leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. He didn’t mind. He had no idea how quickly a simple stop would turn into another reminder of the life he was tired of living.

The bright fluorescent lights hummed overhead as they stepped inside. The store was small and neat, with only a few other customers browsing the aisles. Xavier kept his head slightly lowered, hands in his pockets, hoping to stay unnoticed—but it was impossible.

The moment the staff looked up, their eyes went wide. Then the other customers turned, and whispers spread fast.

“That’s Xavier Rios! The pilot...the one in the commercial —look! Xavier, I'm a huge fan, can I get an autograph?”

“Oh my gosh, it really is him! Can we get a photo? Please?”

Before he could step away, they crowded around him. The staff leaned over the counter asking for autographs; customers pulled out their phones, shoving them closer and closer. Everyone smiled too brightly, spoke too eagerly, eyes glowing with excitement. Xavier forced a tight, practiced smile, signing receipts and posing quickly, his chest growing tighter with every second. It felt less like admiration and more like hunger—they didn’t care how tired he was, or who he really was. They only wanted a piece of the famous face they saw on billboards and commercials.

As soon as he could politely pull away, he climbed back into the car, jaw tight and the mood turned cold. “Enough,” he said sharply. “Let’s go.”

His friends fell quiet, glancing at each other. They knew that look. Xavier was done with people for the night.

The next morning, he woke up early. He needed to pick up new travel accessories and toiletries for his upcoming flight—things only sold at the Freeport Zone. He got in his car just as the sun was rising, figuring the store would be quiet and peaceful at this hour. He wanted to be left alone.

He had no idea that stepping through those glass doors this morning was about to change everything.

The Duty Free Shop was bright, clean, and nearly empty. It was just past eight in the morning, and businesses in the Freeport Zone were only starting to wake up. Xavier pulled his sunglasses back on, his usual shield against the world, and walked slowly along the aisles. Pushing his cart and leaning slightly against it, he picked up a few expensive bottles of alcohol, some wine, snacks, and toiletries along the way. His movements were slow and calm until he reached the row of checkout counters.

That was when he saw her.

She stood behind the farthest counter, neatly arranging receipts while she waited. She wore her simple uniform perfectly pressed, her hair pulled back gently, and there was a quiet, calm kindness about her as she helped an elderly customer count their change. She moved with care and patience, with no trace of hurry or complaint.

Xavier stopped where he stood. He was used to people staring, whispering, or crowding around him for photos. But Fenella did not even look his way. She did not recognize him. She did not know who he was, and for the first time in a very long while, Xavier found himself wanting her to notice him—not because of his fame or his money, but simply as himself.

When the elderly customer left, the checkout supervisor gestured for Fenella to look toward him. Fenella looked up and met his gaze across the aisle. She gave him a soft, polite smile—the same gentle smile she would give anyone—and waited for him to come forward. Xavier felt something shift inside his chest, something he had not felt in years. He adjusted his jacket, hid his quiet surprise behind his usual cool look, stood up straight, and turned away.

Fenella turned her gaze toward a new customer, guiding them to her counter. A minute or two later, Xavier passed by the sub-lobby again, and just like before, she didn't even notice him standing a few feet away. She was laughing and talking to the customer, making them feel comfortable.

Then, the supervisor, Aurora, saw him standing in the aisles again, looking toward them. Aurora gestured to Fenella to call him over, even though the other lanes were empty and Fenella's lane was the only busy one.

Fenella looked at him, confused, but then she gestured politely to the open space in front of her counter.

"Open lanes, Sir," she said, offering the sweet smile she gave to all Duty Free customers.

Xavier looked away and pushed his cart in the opposite direction, away from her counter. Fenella watched him until he began to vanish from her sight.

"I think he's not finished with his shopping yet. Stop making me call him over," she said to Aurora.

"He keeps staring at you. Maybe you know him from somewhere?" her friend Jenny, also a cashier, asked.

"No. I don't know him," Fenella responded softly.

"But let's be honest, he's so attractive. Fenella, make sure he pays here, not in the main lobby, okay?" Aurora said, giggling.

Fenella laughed. "Oh! Look who fell in love at first sight. Aren't you supposed to be a lesbian?"

Aurora huffed and crossed her arms. "He's hot."

The laughter from the checkout counter echoed softly inside the large, quiet Duty Free store.