A Holiday Home in You

Natasha Ramos had never believed in luck. Not the kind people relied on when they scribbled numbers on lottery tickets or picked up pennies off the sidewalk. Her version of luck was the result of sleepless nights, relentless work ethic, and the ability to fake confidence even when her stomach felt like a washing machine. But when her name was called during the annual company town hall raffle, she realized luck had a sense of humor after all. “The grand prize goes to… Natasha Ramos! A full week at Maravilla Beach Resort!” The auditorium erupted into cheers. Her team clapped loudly, a few coworkers even whistled. Natasha forced a smile, because that was the polite thing to do when hundreds of eyes were fixed on her. But inside, she didn’t feel excitement. She felt… confusion. She never won anything. Not bingo games. Not the occasional raffle for snack baskets. Not even school awards that involved random draws. And now, suddenly, a beach vacation? A full week? All expenses paid? Maybe luck had simply gotten tired of ignoring her. Still, she couldn’t deny a flutter—tiny, hesitant, but real—of something she hadn’t felt in a long time. Maybe anticipation. Maybe hope. Or maybe the universe telling her she needed a break before she collapsed from stress-induced madness. Her boss, Clara, nudged her. “Go on! Stand up! Smile like you didn’t just spend the last year living in the office.” Natasha laughed under her breath as she walked to the stage. She accepted the envelope containing the prize with both hands, bowed awkwardly, and smiled at the sea of people. Flashing lights from phone cameras caught her off guard; suddenly she felt like a zoo exhibit named Overworked Human. “Say something!” someone shouted. Natasha leaned toward the mic. “Thank you. This is… unexpected.” The crowd laughed, and she stepped off the stage quickly. The moment she returned to her seat, reality sank in. A week at the beach. Sunshine. Quiet. Rest. She couldn’t remember the last vacation she’d taken—proper vacation without bringing her laptop. Maybe three years ago? Four? Whenever it was, she was too burned out to enjoy it. She had spent those days asleep on her aunt’s couch while the world spun merrily without her. This time, she promised herself, she would actually breathe. Maybe luck isn’t so bad. — Three days later, she stood in her condo, rolling her suitcase near the door, and double-checking everything for the tenth time. Clothes—check. Sunscreen—check. Charger, toiletries, book she hoped to read, swimsuit she hadn’t worn in years—check, check, and embarrassingly check. She grabbed the printed confirmation page from the company intranet and scanned it again. Maravilla Beach Resort — Coastal House Accommodation Full Week Stay: Monday to Sunday Note: Due to peak season, the grand prize winner may be assigned to shared accommodation. All guests are guaranteed private bedrooms. She paused, frowning at the text. She had read it before, of course. Twice. But the fact that she had to share the house with someone else still felt strange. Who would she be staying with? A coworker? Another raffle winner from another department? A stranger? Human interaction outside of work wasn’t exactly her strongest skill set. Her phone buzzed. It was her best friend, Mara. Mara: Did you leave already? Natasha: Almost. Mara: I hope your roommate isn’t a creep. Natasha snorted. Same. Mara: But also… maybe they’re cute? Natasha rolled her eyes, typing back as she zipped her suitcase. Natasha: This is a vacation, not a blind date. Mara: Vacations can BECOME blind dates. Miracles happen at the beach. Natasha: Stop. Mara: I won’t. Enjoy. And PLEASE relax. Don’t bring work. I swear if you answer emails I’m hacking your inbox. Natasha smiled. Mara was impossible. But she was right. This trip was her chance to slow down. Even if she had to share a house with someone. — The travel van from the resort was waiting outside the airport, its driver holding a sign with her name on it. She boarded, sank into the cool leather seat, and stared out the window as the city melted into open roads and finally into stretches of deep blue sea. When the van reached the private part of the coastline, Natasha’s breath hitched. Maravilla was stunning. Wide white sand. Palm trees swaying lazily. An embracing warmth that felt miles away from her over-air-conditioned office. She felt lighter already. “Ms. Ramos, your housemate arrived earlier today,” the driver said as he parked near a gated path. “Oh—okay.” Natasha tried to sound casual. “Is it… someone from the company?” “I believe he booked privately.” He. The word felt heavier than expected. Her pulse sped up—not out of excitement, she assured herself, but because she wasn’t used to sharing personal space with strangers, let alone male strangers. She followed the walkway to a two-story white beach house with a wraparound porch and tall windows. The front door was open. Natasha dragged her suitcase inside. And froze. A little girl—no older than seven—peeked at her from behind the sofa. Big curious eyes. Ponytail crooked. Wearing a shirt with a cartoon dolphin on it. “Oh,” Natasha whispered. The girl blinked, then stepped forward. “Hi.” “Hi…” Natasha offered a smile. “Are you staying here too?” “Yes!” The girl nodded enthusiastically. “Papa said we’re sharing the house with someone. Are you that someone?” “I think so.” The girl beamed like she’d won the raffle instead of Natasha. “I’m Charm!” Charm. The name suited her perfectly. Before Natasha could respond, a tall figure emerged from the hallway carrying a stack of folded towels. He looked up. Warm brown eyes met hers. And just like that, Natasha forgot how breathing worked. The man—her housemate, apparently—was undeniably handsome, in a calm, steady way rather than a flashy one. Sun-touched skin. Broad shoulders. A gentle expression that softened the moment he saw the girl at Natasha’s side. “Charm,” he said with a patient tone, “I told you not to run off without telling me.” “She didn’t run,” Natasha said quickly. “I just came in.” He turned his attention to her again, and the corners of his lips lifted slightly. “You must be Ms. Ramos. I’m Henrick Solidad.” His voice was smooth. Calm. The type of voice that immediately made someone feel safe. Natasha shook the hand he offered. It was warm and slightly calloused, like he actually spent time doing things that didn’t involve typing emails. “Natasha is fine.” “Natasha,” he repeated, as though testing the sound of her name. Charm tugged his arm impatiently. “Papa, she’s pretty!” Heat rushed to Natasha’s cheeks. Henrick chuckled softly, rubbing his daughter’s hair. “Charm… you can’t just say things like that.” “But it’s true,” Charm whispered loudly. Natasha laughed—awkwardly, but genuinely. “Thank you, Charm. You’re very sweet.” The little girl puffed her chest in pride. Henrick gestured toward the hallway. “You have the bedroom on the right. I hope it’s okay. I tried to make sure it was tidy.” “You cleaned the room?” she asked before she could stop herself. “It wasn’t messy,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just a bit dusty.” She smiled. “Thank you.” “Papa cooks really well,” Charm announced. “We can cook for you too!” Henrick sighed. “Charm…” Natasha waved a hand. “Actually, that… sounds nice.” Charm lit up again. Natasha wasn’t sure what surprised her more — the adorable kid or the surprisingly gentle man standing in front of her. This wasn’t what she had expected from a shared accommodation situation. She had imagined chaos. Noise. Someone inconsiderate or awkward. But this? This felt… unexpectedly comfortable. “Let me help with your things,” Henrick offered. “It’s okay,” she said quickly. “I’ve got it.” He nodded and stepped aside as she pulled her suitcase down the hallway. The room was simple but lovely. White linens, soft lighting, a view of the ocean. She opened the window and inhaled the salty breeze. It felt like exhaling for the first time in years. — That evening, after she unpacked and freshened up, she walked to the kitchen and found Henrick preparing dinner while Charm sat on the counter swinging her legs. “What can I do to help?” Natasha asked. “You’re the winner of this trip,” Henrick said over his shoulder. “You’re supposed to relax.” “Relaxing is easier when my hands are busy,” she admitted. He studied her for a moment, as if sensing something beneath her words. But he simply nodded toward the vegetables. “You can chop those.” She joined him. Charm started talking—no, chatting continuously—about seashells, dolphins, and how she wanted to build the biggest sandcastle ever. Natasha found herself smiling more than she had in months. Dinner was simple: grilled fish, mixed vegetables, and fried rice with garlic. But it tasted far better than anything she had ordered on delivery apps. “This is really good,” Natasha said between bites. “Thank you,” Henrick replied. “Cooking is… soothing.” “I get that.” Charm pointed her spoon at Natasha. “Papa cooks when he’s sad.” Henrick choked slightly. “Charm.” Natasha tried not to laugh. “It’s okay. I think everyone has their thing.” “What’s yours?” Charm asked. “Mine?” Natasha thought for a moment. “Hmm… sleeping?” They laughed. And as they continued eating, a thought crossed Natasha’s mind. She had come here expecting a quiet, solitary break. A chance to escape work, expectations, and people in general. But life—and luck—had given her something else entirely. A sweet child who talked too much. A man with gentle eyes and a soft laugh. And maybe, just maybe… a beginning. Something warm. Something unexpected. Something she hadn’t realized she’d been missing. When dinner ended and Charm began nodding off on her father’s shoulder, Henrick looked at Natasha across the table. The soft glow of the pendant light cast warm highlights across his face. “Thank you for being patient with her,” he said quietly. Natasha shook her head. “She’s wonderful.” “She can be a lot.” “She’s… refreshing.” He smiled — a small, sincere curve of his lips that made her heart skip a beat. Outside, the sound of waves drifted through the open windows. Inside, a slow warmth settled into Natasha’s chest, one she didn’t know how to define yet. It was only the first day. But something told her this trip would change more than her stress levels. It might change everything.