1st Kiss

"Jiro, how have things been for the past two years?" I asked my friend Jiro, who was helping my dad at his restaurant.

"It's okay," Jiro replied. But I knew him too well, and I understood the meaning behind his looks. He pitied me.

"Jiro, can you please stop looking at me like that?" I told him.

"Well, Arianne, you've been gone for two years! I can't blame you. If only I knew back then that you and Joseph would eventually break up, I wouldn't have stepped back. I wish you didn't have to go through this pain," he said. I pondered Jiro's words, letting them sink in. There was a time when he and I shared something special, a connection that had bloomed during our youth. It was whispered that if I had been enamored with Joseph, Jiro would have held a similar fondness for me. While I hadn't always fully grasped the depth of his feelings back then, in hindsight, I can now acknowledge the sincerity behind his actions. There were moments when his gestures of affection had touched me more deeply than I had let on.

As I gazed at him, it was evident that time had wrought changes upon us both. Jiro had grown, the passage of years etching a sense of maturity onto his features. The image of him from our youth resurfaced in my mind—his long, vibrant hair, often embellished with artificial extensions that added a splash of color. He was known for his eccentric fashion choices, always striving for a sense of coolness that sometimes bordered on the unconventional.

Now, however, he appeared more grounded, more human. His once-long hair had been replaced by a neat and tidy haircut, framing his face, and highlighting the dimples that deepened when he smiled. It was a transformation that signified growth, a shedding of youthful exuberance to make way for a more refined version of himself.

I couldn't help but reflect on how far he had come. The Jiro of the past, the enigmatic bad boy unsure of his path, had transformed into a man of purpose. To think that the same Jiro who once seemed adrift had now found his calling as a chef and was diligently contributing to my family's restaurant business. It was a source of pride for me, to witness the evolution of someone I had known intimately in my younger years.

I couldn't deny that Kristine had played a significant role in his transformation. Her presence had brought out a different side of him, guiding him towards a path of self-discovery and growth. The thought of him finding happiness and stability warmed my heart, even if a twinge of jealousy crept in at the thought of his happiness with her.

As I observed him, a sense of admiration and nostalgia welled up within me. The memories of our shared history, the ups and downs we had navigated, and the unspoken bond we had formed—all of these emotions converged in that single moment. Jiro's journey served as a reminder that people can surprise us, that growth is possible even in the most unexpected ways. A genuine smile tugged at the corners of my lips as I contemplated his transformation.

"Come on! If we were together, what would our child be like? We're both not the smartest," I teased him.

Both of us burst into laughter. It was true, we might not be the most intelligent, but we were dedicated and hardworking. Maybe that's why I became a nurse, and he pursued a career as a chef.

"But they would still be cute," he said.

"You're crazy! But admit it, you're happy with Kristine. And congratulations on your child," I said.

He smiled fondly when I mentioned his wife's name. I couldn't help feeling a twinge of envy, though I hid it well.

"Thanks. Will you be one of the godparents? Oh, and does Joseph know that you're..." he trailed off, but I cut him off.

"Jiro, I just returned a few days ago," I told him, using my fork to play with my pasta.

"But you've been back for a while. Why did you only show up now? I couldn't help but think you were avoiding us," he said.

"No, Jiro, it's not like that," I insisted. "I needed time to handle everything since I came back."

"So, are you back for good now?" he inquired.

"I'm not sure yet, Jiro," I honestly replied.

"Why? We're all here," he said.

"It's hard to explain," I said.

"I think I know what it is. Well, no I know who it's about. I don't know, Arianne, but you've changed so much. Where's Arianne I used to know? The one who was naive and a bit clumsy, yet always managed to bring color to everything around her."

That Arianne is no longer here. I wanted to say it, but I knew he would just worry even more.

"I didn't expect this day to come," he said, disbelief in his voice.

"Which day?" I asked, confused.

"The day when you stop mentioning Joseph. We all knew how head over heels you were for him," he said. I looked away.

"Jiro, people change," I said softly. He didn't comment. "Let's not focus on me. What about you? Besides Kristine being pregnant and papa giving you this restaurant, what's new?"

His eyes widened suddenly. Did I say something wrong?

"What did you say, Arianne?" he stammered.

"Huh? Which part?" I asked.

"About the restaurant?"

"Oh, yes!"

"So, it's true that your papa is giving me the restaurant?" I spoke. He stood up as I confirmed it.

"Is that true?!" he exclaimed. I nodded.

"Yes, papa told me yesterday," I told him.

Oops! It dawned on me that I might have divulged too much in our conversation. Jiro's sudden departure, a whirlwind of emotions, led him straight into the heart of the kitchen where my father was orchestrating culinary symphonies.

My father and I had shared conversations about this pivotal decision a few months ago. It was a delicate matter, one that revolved around the fate of our family's restaurant—a place infused with memories, laughter, and the savory aroma of tradition. Initially, my father had approached me with the prospect of taking over the reins, passing down the legacy to me. But reality had a way of asserting itself, especially when my health had taken an unexpected downturn. The weight of my illness, coupled with my lack of affinity for the intricate world of business and the culinary arts, made me acutely aware that I was not the right fit for the role.

And so, I was left grappling with a profound dilemma. My father's dreams, my own uncertain future, and the preservation of our cherished establishment hung delicately in the balance. It was a responsibility that tugged at my heartstrings, a challenge that required a decision of great magnitude.

Jiro's face emerged in my thoughts, a steadfast presence throughout the years. During my absence, he was a pillar of support, dedicating himself to the well-being of my father and the restaurant. His commitment was unwavering, his hard work a testament to his loyalty to our family. In many ways, he had become a beloved member of our household, akin to a son my father had never had.

In that moment of revelation, my heart aligned with the realization that Jiro was the natural heir to our family's culinary haven. His dedication, his passion for the culinary arts, and his bond with my father—all these factors converged to form an irrefutable truth. Jiro possessed the qualities required to carry our legacy into the future.

As Jiro and my father exchanged words in the bustling kitchen, I was enveloped in a swirl of emotions. Relief, a sense of rightness, and even a tinge of bittersweetness mingled within me. It was a poignant reminder that life's tapestry often unfolded in ways we least expected. The realization that our cherished restaurant would find its guardian in Jiro filled me with a peculiar blend of pride and reassurance.

"Papa! Thank you! Thank you!!!" I heard him say.

I didn't need to look inside to know that they were hugging each other. Jiro calls my dad "Papa." After all, he has courted me before, but I didn't like him enough to have a relationship with him. I glanced at my phone when it beeped. There was a text, and I checked it immediately.

From: Chito the Monkey

I'm outside.

A cynical sigh escaped my lips. Chito, always managing to show up at the most inconvenient moments.

"Papa, Jiro, I'm going out for a bit!" I yelled to my father and Jiro, who were still busy in the kitchen. As I stepped outside, my gaze fell upon Chito, who was casually leaning against his car. His perpetually serious demeanor seemed to be etched onto his features, yet there was an intriguing magnetism about him. His hair, long and stylishly brushed up, added an unconventional charm to his overall appearance. A certain air of allure always clung to him, an enigmatic presence that was difficult to ignore.

He locked eyes with me as I approached, a silent exchange passing between us. His intense gaze held a mix of familiarity and something more profound, something that seemed to have evolved over time. Chito had a way of looking at me that transcended words, making me feel as if he understood the complexities, I carried within me.

Dressed in a simple grey shirt and pants, there was an understated elegance to his attire. Despite its simplicity, it accentuated his well-defined physique, emphasizing the contours of his body. His demeanor exuded a confident yet gentle aura, creating an intriguing contrast that was impossible to resist.

And then there was that perfect smile of his, a smile that could melt hearts and warm even the coldest of days. As his lips curved upward, a mixture of emotions flooded through me. It was a smile that held shared memories, unspoken sentiments, and a hint of mischief. It was a reminder of all the times we had spent together, the laughter we had shared, and the connection we had cultivated over the years.

With a fluttering heart, I returned his smile, allowing the unspoken sentiments to linger in the air. Our shared history and the unbreakable bond we shared were captured in that simple exchange of glances and smiles.

"What's up?" I shot at him immediately.

"Can't I just check up on you?" he retorted.

I rolled my eyes in response. I stood next to him.

"Not really, especially since we saw each other just the other day," I remarked.

"Yeah, we just got back from the States. I know you tend to be reckless. I didn't want you landing in the hospital as soon as you got back here," he said seriously. I smiled and pinched his cheek.

"Aw, you missed me already," I teased.

I owe him a great deal. He took care of me when I was alone in the US. It was no secret he had feelings for me. He was the cause of a huge fight between Joseph and me back then. But he also understood that we would only ever be friends. I was grateful for that.

"Not really," he replied, but a hint of a smile played on his lips. "Have you taken your medication?"

"Of course. Did you forget I'm a nurse?" I said.

Chito came from a well-off family. I couldn't fathom why he avoided their hospital. He was a nurse too. Nursing or being a doctor seemed to run in his family. As for me, I chose this path because I once hoped Joseph and I could work together in a hospital. I wanted to be his nurse, but that dream is far too impossible now.

"Good. You know why we came back, right?" he asked.

I nodded. The truth was, I had an ailment. I was gradually losing my vision. I had sought medical help abroad, but they couldn't find a cure for my condition. I inherited it from my mother, the same ailment that took her life. To be honest, I was losing hope, but Chito never did. He insisted we return to our hometown. There have been developments, in my case, a potential treatment. I had to be operated on by the most renowned doctor, both internationally and locally, Joseph.

"Yes," I replied.

"Good. I've been rehired at the hospital where he works," he smirked. "I wonder what he'll do when he sees me working there too."

"Chito!" I chided him. I knew exactly what he was planning. He wanted to taunt Joseph. The thing is, Joseph had never liked Chito, and the feeling was mutual.

"I just want to see your ex's reaction," he said. "Tsk! If I had a choice, I wouldn't have pushed you to come back, but I know you need this."

I nodded in understanding.

"Oh, by the way, you have a check-up with him tomorrow," he dropped that bombshell. Anxiety surged in my chest.

"Stop joking around," I said.

"I'm not. I thought it would be better for you to get checked in early. So that we can go back to the States soon," he said. My anxiety only grew. God! It seemed like I wouldn't die from my ailment but rather from this anxiety. Damn you, Chito!