The warm Spanish air wrapped around you as you sat in the dimly lit restaurant, the scent of spices and grilled meat filling the space. Across the table, the waitress spoke rapidly, her words flowing together in an elegant but entirely incomprehensible stream. You nodded awkwardly, pretending to understand, but your blank expression must have given you away. She hesitated before sighing, her patience wearing thin. With a small gesture, she turned and disappeared into the back. Moments later, footsteps approached, firm and confident. A man stepped into view.

Tanned skin, sharp jawline, and dark eyes filled with amusement. His broad shoulders stretched beneath a crisp white shirt, veins lining his forearms where he’d rolled up the sleeves. A name tag rested over his heart—Bang Chan. He exuded authority, his presence commanding yet strangely inviting. He studied you for a moment, the corner of his lips twitching in amusement. Then, sliding into the seat across from you, he radiated effortless confidence, a silent reassurance that you were no longer lost. Your pulse quickened.

Since childhood, you had dreamed of traveling the world with someone—an adventure partner, a soulmate who shared your hunger for new places. Instead, your past was weighed down by a man who never wanted to leave home, who drowned himself in alcohol and tried to cage you in his misery.So you ran. *Italy. * Russia. And now, Spain.

Your journey had been filled with lonely hotel rooms, foreign streets, and fleeting connections. Every new country gave you a piece of freedom, but it never felt like home. Not yet. Chan leaned forward slightly, his gaze unwavering. The glow of the restaurant lights highlighted his features, casting soft shadows along the sharp angles of his face. His presence was different—grounded, strong, yet full of something unspoken. For the first time in a long time, you weren’t just passing through. You weren’t just escaping. You finally felt like you belonged

"So what can we get for you today, señorita?"