Beyond His Cold Smile

Chapter 3: The Ride Home

The automatic doors slid shut behind Xavier, and for a heartbeat, the checkout area hung quiet, then burst into noise all at once.

Fenella let her polite smile fall away completely, her shoulders slumping as she let out a sharp, frustrated breath. She scrubbed a hand over her face, fingers pressing hard against her temples like she was chasing away a headache.

“Ugh—finally,” she muttered, stacking receipt rolls harder than necessary, the plastic clacking sharply against the counter. “That man is infuriating. Who does that? Who hands a total stranger their entire wallet like it’s a joke? Who stands there eating snacks right over my conveyor? It’s ridiculous.”

Aurora snickered, leaning on the counter with her elbows. “Ridiculous how he couldn’t take his eyes off you, you mean? What’s his name anyway?”

“Ridiculous that I had to babysit a grown man like he was a lost child!” Fenella shot back, though her cheeks were already warm. “I don’t know. I never looked at his wallet closely. And that woman, goodness, I thought I’d have to call security. He just stood there like none of it mattered, like I was supposed to be impressed by all that attitude.”

“Gosh, you held it but you never even glanced at the name?” Aurora laughed.

“No. I didn’t.”

“Typical Fenella,” Jenny put in, grinning as she wiped down the bagging area. “What if that’s your future husband and you’ll never know? And he didn’t even glance at that woman twice. But you? You could’ve ignored him all day and he still would’ve stayed right there.”

Fenella opened her mouth to argue, then snapped it shut, huffing again as she finished closing out her register.

Xavier wheeled his loaded shopping cart out of the Duty Free store and into the parking lot. He unloaded his purchases carefully into the trunk of his Montero Sport, then pushed the empty cart all the way back to the designated corral before getting behind the wheel.

Xavier drove slowly, the low hum of the engine doing nothing to quiet his restless mind. Fenella's face kept drifting into his mind—her calm, unhurried movements, the polite but distant smile she gave him, the way she had treated him like just another ordinary man. No one had ever looked at him that way, and he could not shake the strange, lingering feeling it left behind.

After he left his things at home, his friends called and invited him to play tennis at the country club.

He headed straight there, where his friends were already waiting. He changed into sportswear and stepped onto the sun-warmed court. He moved through the motions, swinging his racket, but his heart wasn't in it. He missed easy shots, hesitated when he shouldn't have, and stood still more than once, his racket hanging loosely at his side.

"Earth to Xavier!" Laurence called out, laughing as he walked over to the net. "You're completely out of it today."

"Something on your mind?" James said, wiping his face with a towel. "You're playing like you've seen a ghost."

Xavier blinked, forcing a faint smile. "Just tired. Long week."

An hour later at the Duty free, the end-of-shift. They clocked out, changed out of their uniforms, and piled into the company shuttle as the sun dipped low over the parking lot. The air was warm, and the bus hummed with quiet chatter, until Aurora turned from the seat beside Fenella and leaned in, grinning like she’d been waiting all shift.

“Alright, spill,” she said, nudging Fenella’s arm. “What was going through your head when he handed you that wallet? Be honest.”

Fenella stared out the window, crossing her arms. “I was thinking please just take this back so I can go home. That’s it.”

“Sure you were,” Aurora laughed, drawing the attention of the other staff members sitting nearby. “I saw your face, Fen. You were so flustered you didn’t even notice he was holding his breath waiting for you to open it.”

“He was not holding his breath!”

“Oh, he absolutely was,” Mia called from the row ahead. “And did you see how he laughed when you told that woman to trade places? I’ve never seen him smile like that, like you’d just said the funniest thing in the world.”

Fenella felt her face heat up. “He was laughing at her, not at me. What do I look like, a clown now?”

“Uh-huh. And handing you his whole wallet was… what? Standard customer service?” Aurora teased, waggling her eyebrows. “That man is used to people falling all over themselves just to say hello. But you? You didn’t even look at him until you had to. You’ve got him completely wrapped around your little finger and you don’t even realize it.”

Fenella let out a groan and dropped her head back against the seat. “Can we please stop talking about him? He’s just another difficult customer.”

“Difficult because he wants you to notice him,” Jenny chimed in from across the aisle. “And he’s definitely coming back. You know that, right?”

“He better not,” Fenella grumbled, though her gaze drifted back toward the store they were leaving behind. “If he does, you take his lane. All of you.”

Aurora just laughed and draped an arm over her shoulders. “We’ll see about that. I give it three days before he’s back, probably with even more snacks, and another silly excuse to talk to you.”

Fenella rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t quite keep the small, secret smile from tugging at the corner of her mouth as the shuttle turned onto the main road, carrying them home as the sky turned soft orange and pink.

Finally at home, Fenella pushed open her front door. The quiet of her small house wrapped around her instantly, no beeping scanners, no murmuring customers, no rude rich guys playing games. She dropped her bag by the door, kicked off her shoes and set them neatly in the corner, then let out a long, slow breath she felt like she’d been holding all afternoon.

The sun was dipping lower now, painting the walls in warm gold, and she knew her parents would still be out in the fields, tending to their crops until the light faded completely. She washed up quickly, tied her hair back, and headed straight for the kitchen.

She moved through it on autopilot, measuring and washing rice to set to boil, chopping fresh vegetables they’d brought home from the farm just yesterday, slicing fish and marinating it simply with salt and calamansi. The familiar sounds settled her frayed nerves: the gurgle of the rice pot, the sharp tap-tap-tap of her knife against the wooden board, the smell of garlic and onions sizzling in the pan. All the frustration and fluster from earlier slowly melted away, replaced by the soft, steady rhythm of caring for her family.

Every now and then, though, a thought slipped in uninvited: the way that man had just stood there, waiting. The way he’d handed over his whole wallet like it was nothing. The way he'd laughed, bright and genuine, when she’d spoken up. She’d shake her head and huff softly to herself, turning up the heat under the stew or stirring the rice a little faster.

Stop thinking about him, she told herself firmly. He’s just some spoiled, impulsive man who thinks he can do whatever he wants. He doesn’t matter.

But her cheeks still felt warm, and for a fleeting second, she wondered if he’d actually meant what he did… or if it really was just another game to him.

When everything was almost done, she set the table, filled their glasses with cold water, and stepped out onto the small porch. Far off, along the edge of the fields, she saw the faint glow of her parents’ lanterns moving slowly through the dusk. She leaned against the railing, breathing in the scent of damp earth and jasmine, and waited, her mind quieter now, but still carrying that strange, lingering feeling she couldn’t quite name.