Chapter2: coffee and cruel words
893 Words
Chapter Two: Coffee and Cruel Words
Saturday mornings were Isabella's favorite.
No deadlines.
No clients calling to ask why their portraits weren't finished.
Just a quiet café, a sketchbook, and a cup of strong coffee.
She sat by the window, pencil dancing across the page, when a familiar voice interrupted her concentration.
"Mind if I sit here?"
She looked up.
Ethan.
Wearing faded jeans, a navy work shirt, and carrying that same old toolbox.
She blinked.
"Do plumbers carry toolboxes everywhere?"
He looked down at it.
"I was on my way to a job."
She smiled.
"Fair enough."
He took the seat across from her.
"So... no flooding today?"
"Very funny."
"No frying pans?"
"I'm retiring from plumbing."
"Good choice."
Their laughter came easily now, as though they'd known each other much longer than two weeks.
The waitress brought their drinks.
"You remembered."
Isabella smiled.
"You said last time that you only drink black coffee."
"You remembered that?"
"I remember little things."
Ethan's heart skipped.
No one ever remembered the little things about him.
Not when everyone around him was too busy remembering his fortune.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
They simply watched people pass by outside.
It was... comfortable.
Until—
"Isabella?"
Her smile vanished.
She knew that voice.
She turned slowly.
Her older sister, Vanessa, stood a few feet away in an elegant cream-colored dress, designer handbag over one shoulder. Beside her was her husband, Richard, wearing an expensive tailored suit and an expression that suggested he measured people by the price of their shoes.
Vanessa's eyes moved from Isabella...
...to Ethan...
...to the worn toolbox beside his chair.
She laughed.
"So it's true."
Isabella sighed.
"What is?"
"Mom said you'd been spending time with a plumber."
Richard smirked.
"A real plumber?"
Ethan stood politely.
"Good morning."
Vanessa barely acknowledged him.
She looked around the café before lowering her voice just enough to sound insulting.
"I always knew you lacked ambition, Bella."
"Vanessa..."
"No, let me finish."
She folded her arms.
"You had talent."
"You could have married someone successful."
"Instead..." She glanced disgustedly at Ethan's work boots. "...this is your future?"
Ethan remained calm.
"I'm not—"
She cut him off with a raise of her hand.
"And you."
She looked directly at Ethan.
"If you care about my sister, stop wasting her time."
Richard chuckled.
"A man should be able to give a woman security." Barked Vanessa
"I do honest work," Ethan replied evenly.
"Honest doesn't always pay the bills," Richard said.
Vanessa slipped her arm through her husband's.
"My husband manages one of the biggest bank branches in the city. He worked hard to build a respectable life. But you what have you got to show for your honest work but for this dirty tool box"
Isabella's face flushed with anger.
"Ethan works hard too." She replied her sister.
Vanessa laughed.
"Fixing toilets?"
"He fixes plumbing."
"Oh, forgive me. Such an important distinction."
Several customers turned toward the commotion and a few others laughed.
Isabella stood.
"That's enough."
Vanessa raised an eyebrow.
"Why are you defending him so fiercely? You barely know him."
"I know enough."
Vanessa looked Ethan up and down one last time.
"I just hope you don't wake up one day and realize you've settled for less."
Silence.
Then Ethan spoke.
"I may not have much," he said quietly, "but I would never measure someone's worth by their job."
The café grew still.
Richard scoffed.
"Nice speech plumber, maybe you should just shut up."
Vanessa shook her head.
"Come on, Richard. We're wasting our morning on this low life."
As they walked away, Vanessa tossed one last remark over her shoulder.
"When you're tired of pretending love pays rent, give me a call."
The door closed behind them.
For a long moment, neither Ethan nor Isabella spoke.
"I'm sorry," Isabella whispered.
"You have nothing to apologize for."
"They've always been like that. My sister and her husband always feel high and mighty because of their social status."
Ethan looked down at his coffee.
He had sat through billion-dollar negotiations.
He had faced hostile investors and ruthless competitors.
Yet somehow...
Those few careless words had hurt more than he expected.
Not because they insulted him.
But because they had insulted honest work. He knows dozens of people who manage to get by doing honest work.
Isabella reached across the table and gently placed her hand over his.
"I'm proud to know a man who earns his living with his own hands."
Ethan looked at her.
Their eyes met for the first time since he sat down beside her.
Her hand was warm.
Neither of them moved for a while.
Neither of them noticed the elderly couple sitting nearby, smiling knowingly at the scene.
"You know," the old woman whispered to her husband, "those two are already falling in love."
Her husband smiled.
"They just haven't admitted it yet."
Across the table, Ethan slowly turned his hand over until his fingers lightly brushed Isabella's.
For one brief, silent moment...
Neither of them wanted to let go.
As they parted ways in front of the coffee shop, Ethan knew he'll be honored to spend the rest of his life with this woman. But somehow, he felt guilty in his heart. Here he was lying about his identity but she was there unknowingly defending a billionaire.
- Writer
