Kiara stiffly sat on the upholstered chair with her tense fingers reaching for her iPhone the hundredth time as she replied tautly to the smug waitress, "Just f-five more minutes, he's coming."

"Alright, ma'am." Her purple lips curled into a peevish smirk and she left languidly with her notepad, the clicking of her block heels resonating in Kiara's head like the ominous ticking of a clock. The lurking presence of the condescending waitress irked her because she incessantly reminded her of the bitter truth- he's not going to come sweetheart. Kiara could hardly believe that after five amorous dates and passionate promises of the future, he would simply ghost her.

She shakily scrolled through the chats, they had been religiously texting each other since the past two months. Now he was boldly leaving all her desperate messages on seen. She tremulously opened Instagram to distract herself, clinging on to the last bit of hope like the early morning dewdrop on the tip of a fresh leaf. She naively hypothesized that he was probably stuck in traffic, but his audacious story from thirty minutes ago was her undoing. The fat dewdrop plummeted to the hard ground. She dumbly blinked at the screen, his howling friends and him shamelessly playing beer pong in a dingy room.

She quickly shut her iPhone, sunk her fingers in her soft, auburn hair and massaged her scalp, aghast at how disappointing he turned out to be. For the first time, she had intimately opened up to someone, pouring out all her vulnerabilities, her fears, her dreams. She candidly expressed how afraid she was of being abandoned and he made her worst fears come alive- made her feel like a wind-up toy that as a child, she took great pleasure initially then always got terribly bored of playing with it.

She precisely felt like the wind-up monkey now, joyfully playing the drums over and over again, amusing the child in him till each drum beat gradually got infuriating and he had to get rid of her.

Suddenly, there were loud, scandalous gasps from around the ostentatiously decorated room as if a naked man was parading with his dick high up in the air, respectfully saluting everyone. This grotesque imagination made her lift up her tired head in bright hopes of discovering a naked man, but instead, she was underwhelmed to see a fully-clothed man with red wine spilt over his white polo t-shirt. A petite woman towered over his seated frame, spitefully whispering a string of abuses. She waved her small hands furiously, almost comically in front of her, one of which was holding the empty goblet.

The little ball of scintillating rage soon stormed out of the restaurant, leaving the humiliated man with his sticky, wine-stained t-shirt.

Oh, so someone was having a worse day than her . . . Kiara pitifully grabbed some tissues and instinctively headed towards him, the rejected part of her empathising with his ignominy. Just then, the waitress with the horrid purple lipstick complacently approached him and barely suppressing her snickers, she asked, "Sir, do you want me to bring you another glass of wine?"

"Yes please," Kiara intervened disdainfully. "And some extra napkins too because you'll need them after I throw the wine all over your sweet face."

"Excuse me?" She visibly looked outraged and in response, Kiara only flashed a saccharine smile and felt satisfied when she haughtily strutted away.

"God, I can't stand that devil," she mused, solemnly passing the paper tissues to the stranger. "Here."

"Uh . . . Thank you," he said politely, looking lost and confused like a puppy.

She let out a long breath, shook her head dismissively and strode out of the door, wondering when this awful evening would end.

"Hey!" She continued briskly down the concrete street, gathering her stray thoughts like a child collecting shiny marbles. "Hey!"

She halted in her tracks, slowly turning around to meet the flustered face of the wine-stained polo t-shirt man.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" He was still perplexed, his light hazel eyes now dark under the shadow of the dense trees. "It's not a pickup line unless you want it to be . . . "

She couldn't help but giggle childishly. "I got stood up and I didn't want anybody to beat me in having the worst day ever. But there you were . . . "

It was his turn to laugh boyishly. "Well, tell me about it. All of it. Then we'll decide who the ultimate award for the worst day should go to."

"Alright," she chirped and they began to leisurely stroll on the dim street.

"But before we begin that- may I have the pleasure of knowing your beautiful name?" he asked humorously, the smile never fading from their faces.

"Of course, the beautiful name of this beautiful lady is Kiara," she played along, then laughed lightly at their foolishness. "God, okay. What's your name?"

"Thomas . . . like the train."

"Like the train," she repeated softly with another shy smile. "What did you do for that woman to do that to you?"

"Ah . . . Let's hold on that for a bit---"

"Why, don't tell me you murdered her family or something---"

"Given the opportunity, I would."

"Well, you deserved getting your t-shirt ruined."

"I know a perfect place for us to talk about that . . . Meanwhile, what do you do for a living?"

"A perfect place, huh? Well, I'm a . . . "

Their teasing conversations flowed naturally with little awkwardness that seeped in whenever they interrupted each other to throw more rousing questions, a pure greed to know each other more as soon as possible. The weather was perfectly pleasant, mildly warm for them to roam without their thick coats and not too warm to sweat profusely. The black sky was illuminated with tiny, scattered stars and whenever they couldn't fervently drown in each other's sparkling eyes without coming off as too intense, they found themselves comfortably looking up. Kiara's constant fidgeting with the golden chain of her sling bag eased and her shoulders sagged as time passed by. Similarly, Thomas idly walked with a slight hunch, his pale hands shoved in his pockets. He had forcefully sucked his stomach in to not let it stick to his wet t-shirt, but he soon forgot his nagging irritation with every intriguing sentence that the adorable girl next to him uttered.

"OK, here we are." He paused and stretched out his slender hand, gently intertwining their fingers and helping her climb on the wooden bench in the deserted park. "Imagine yourself on top of a hill and shout out all your worries."

"Are you serious?" She coyly hid her red face with her free hand and chuckled nervously. "Thomas . . . This is ridiculous . . . "

"I'll do it too, I promise."

"Okay, okay." She inhaled deeply, balling her hands into tight fists. "YOU MOTHERFUCKER . . . " She uncontrollably burst out laughing. "Ah, God, I can't . . . "

Smiling dotingly, he persisted, "Come on, don't chicken out."

She pulled herself together, taking another deep breath. "Alright, this time for sure."

"Go on . . . "

"Ah . . . Johnny boy," she started exasperatedly. "I thought you were into me, you know. You behaved like the best boy on all our dates, but more than that, you listened. You listened patiently to all that I had to say without ever rushing me. About my family, my dead goldfish, my dead dog, my dead bird, my other dead dog, my dead feelings . . . So I assumed, you liked me the way I did. Maybe, not as much as I did, but close enough."

"It's okay, you're doing great . . . "

"But you fucking tricked me." A sudden torrent of anger throbbed in her body like a blocked garden hose full of gushing water. "You tricked me into bed with all your sweet, false promises! And guess what, the sex wasn't even good! It was terrible! I couldn't think of anything, but your hot coffee breath . . . Absolutely disgusting . . . " She took a glimpse of Thomas' scrunched up nose who upon seeing her glance, smiled amusingly at her. "And I faked it, I faked having an orgasm, just like you faked your fucking love!"

"Woah!" Thomas applauded admiringly. "Impressive!"

She did a mock bow and said, "Now, your turn, mister."

"Oh, no, no, no, no, no---"

"No can't do." She cheerfully hopped down. "You don't make sweet, false promises---"

"Jesus, no! I'm going up . . . " He hastily went up, nearly tumbling down. He firmly gripped her shoulder to remain steady. "Where do I begin . . . Right . . . God, Ashley . . . You were so controlling."

"Hmm, controlling . . . Interesting."

"Always monitoring what I ate, on what I spent my money on. It was like I was dating my mother. A cruel version of her, but sexier. Definitely, sexier," he said truthfully and Kiara snorted. "Sex with you was mind-blowing. I think I stuck with you for the past four months for the sex. Yes, it was only for the sex."

"Wow, dickhead!"

"I mean she didn't love me either so it's safe to assume that she was too in it for the sex part," he justified innocently, throwing his hands high up in the air as if surrendering.

"Okay sorry, no judgement zone." She mimed zipping her lips then hurriedly unzipped them. "Wait, one question. Why did she spill the wine over you?"

"Well, she's a bit crazy like that." He sprightly jumped down. "Do you want to catch a concert?"

She gave him a puzzled look, thrusting the screen of her iPhone on his white face. "It's eleven pm. No "concert" will let us in."

"Come with me." He affectionately grabbed her brown hand, spontaneously pulling her forward. "They'll leave soon so we need to hurry. Will you run with me?"

"This is insane . . . Thomas . . . "

"Will you run with me or not?"

"Fine," she consented indifferently, but exploded into another fit of giggles when he started sprinting on the empty streets like a madman and she impulsively followed him like a madwoman. "I haven't ran since school days!"

"Me neither!"

They almost bumped into a moving Renault and shouted meaningless apologies to the fuming owner, never ceasing in their wild tracks.

Thomas led the clueless Kiara into a subway who breathlessly questioned, "Do we-we have to take a train? How far is this?!"

"We arrived!" He did an exaggerated ta-da! gesture and jogged ahead. "I'm so glad they didn't leave. Hey, can ya'll play us a quick song please?"

The exhausted-looking singers in the subway instantly perked up and the lanky one with the guitar said, "Sure, mate."

Kiara was fixedly staring at Thomas in awe who asked, "Will you dance with me?"

"Thomas . . . You're . . . " Her flushed face became redder as she dubiously looked around.

"Will you dance with me or not?"

"Yeah," she breathed, stepping closer to him. "This is the weirdest night of my life."

"I don't disagree." He circled his arms around her waist and she tenderly held his shoulders. "I don't know what we're doing, but I'm having fun."

"Me too." They both quietly laughed when the musicians began singing.

Wise men say only fools rush in
But I can't help falling in love with you
Shall I stay
Would it be a sin
If I can't help falling in love with you . . .

"You smell like wine," she whispered in his ear and his chest rumbled with laughter. "I'm glad I got stood up."

"I'm glad I got dumped," he murmured, swaying with her then gently spun her, her turquoise paisley dress billowing around her. When the corny song ended, both of them were glowing under the subway lights and they gave some money to them. "Thank you so much, you guys made our night!"

Thomas lovingly interlinked their arms and they marched on the vacant streets.

"It'll be a terrible shame," Kiara began mischievously. "It'll be a terrible, terrible, terrible shame if we don't kiss."

He immediately became still, then bent down and softly kissed her. The illuminating streetlight above them flickered as they meekly melted like jelly in each other's arms, their knees buckling. Warmth slowly spread in her stomach like the first taste of comfort from crawling wearily in a large, puffy blanket after a dreary day.

They parted with difficulty and he said, "I'll walk you home."

"You don't really have to . . . "

"I want to," he insisted, smiling kindly. "Tell me about your dead pets till then."

"Oh, trust me, you don't want to hear about them."

"What? Come on---"

"If I start, I won't stop. I'll keep on blabbering and you'll regret ever meeting me. I'll spoil this night, honestly."

"It's okay, I have a high tolerance level. I put up with that crazy woman for five months you know."

"For the sex."

"Well, alright. But I intend to keep in touch with you after this night and you'll have to tell me about them sooner or later. So test my tolerance now."

She grinned widely. "I'll test you. Be prepared for the longest story you'll ever hear . . . "

"I'm all ready."

"So Ariel- the goldfish, my dad got me for my seventh birthday. All my pets were named after Disney characters . . . "

* * *

"No, no, no, no, Thomas. Listen to me!" she argued on her iPhone, irritatedly sinking her fingers in her tangled, auburn hair. She was plopped on the leather recliner in their shared apartment. "First, listen to what I have to say. Listen to me!"

"Why are you babying me? I know what the fuck I'm doing!"

"I tell you to do one thing in these past five months and you think I'm babying you? You're nuts!"

"It's my money, goddamn it! I believe in their start-up, it'll do well. Trust me."

"I trust you," she said dourly. "It's them whom I don't trust. You have already funded a lot of their projects with zero returns. Zero!"

"It'll make sense. Two years from now---"

"Two years? You realise how absolutely absurd this is?"

She could hear his vexed sigh. "Two years from now . . . You know what, I don't want to talk about this right now."

"Fine, avoid all you want---"

"I'm not avoiding. I'm going to invest whether you like it or not," he said obstinately. "Also, I'm staying at Rupert's tonight."

It was their first night separate from each other.

"You're not coming home? I cooked already . . . Never mind," she choked, tears of discontent already welling up in her eyes. "Good night."

"Hey, hey, it's not because of this silly fight, okay," he said reassuringly after a brief pause. "I have a lot of work to catch up on and it's convenient staying at Rupert's. And I won't invest in their start-up if it's affecting you so much."

"It's not affecting me, I just care---"

"I get it," he cut her off. "Let's go out for dinner tomorrow night. We need to relax."

"Are you sure? You have a lot of work you said."

"I'll handle." The heaviness in his voice had dissipated. "Olive tree? Seven pm?"

"Okay, done," she affirmed, pleased that they were going to the restaurant where they first met. "Love you, goodnight."

* * *

They sat rigidly opposite to each other on the upholstered chairs, the tension lingering thick in the air. The prying question was on the tip of her tongue, did you invest or not? but she knew better to not wickedly ask him or else he would lose all his good mood like a steaming pressure cooker. He was tacitly examining the menu and she soundlessly sipped her wine.

"That waitress with the purple lipstick isn't anywhere to be seen," he jested, his searching eyes landing on a new waitress.

"Thank goodness," she said loudly. "She has definitely got fired with that wonderful attitude of hers. Hundred per cent."

The new waitress with no outrageous lipstick courteously advanced towards them. "What would you like, ma'am?"

"A Caesar salad and mushroom ravioli."

"And sir?"

"I'll have the same---"

"Oh no, love," Kiara endearingly interrupted him. "You know how mushrooms don't sit well with you . . ."

"Two salads and two portions of ravioli please," he said stubbornly to the waitress, deliberately ignoring Kiara.

Just as the waitress awkwardly left with the orders, Kiara dramatically began, "The hell?"

"This is exactly what I was talking about, you babying me!"

"Oh please, don't start with your mother bullshit now," she sneered. "Always comparing me to your ex and how she treated you like a baby."

"Aren't you doing the same?"

"I'm literally taking care of you!"

"Well, don't, no one's asking you to."

"Your ex didn't take care of you, that doesn't mean I---"

"It's you who is obsessed with Ashley!"

She scoffed derisively. "I'm not obsessed with her."

"Why do you keep bringing her up again and again, huh?" he demanded. "I love you and I'm in this relationship with you not only for the sex."

"Oh, so sex with me isn't as great as it's with her?"

"Yeah- but where did this crap come from?"

She abruptly got up, banging her hand on the white granite table. "Did you just say, yeah? Yeah?"

"I didn't mean it," he said defensively and everyone's attention was on the quarrelling pair. "I was joking!"

"Right," she said reproachfully, unbothered by the spectators.  "Did you invest or not?"

"What?"

"You heard me---"

"Let's not talk about this here---"

"Sure, keep avoiding---"

"I'm not avoiding!" He took a sharp breath and his hazel eyes coldly pierced into hers as he said contemptuously through gritted teeth, "It's my money and I found it perfectly alright to invest in wherever the fuck I wanted to. So yeah, I did."

"You asshole . . . " She savagely reached for the wine glass and threw the liquid over him. She was breathing heavily and her vision was blurry from pure anger, she couldn't hear or see the shock on the spectators' faces. He was baffled too and unable to register the fierce nature of his lover as he mutely stared at his wine-stained t-shirt.

Their startled eyes met each other's in a second and they both burst out cackling hysterically with laughter, so much so that they had to embrace each other from collapsing weakly on the carpeted floor.

"I-I . . . don't have t-the ring right now," he said in between his unrestrained laughter, tightly clutching her arms. "But I got to ask you this . . . I got to! Will you marry me, Kiara?"

"Thomas . . . You have lost it . . . Absolutely . . . "

"Will you marry me or not?"

"Yes!" she joyfully exclaimed, still finding it hard to stop laughing. "God, even the new waitress hates us now. Let's get out of here."

* * *

A/N :

I hope you guys enjoyed this rom-com?