A continuation on this series. Michael and Naomi meet after years apart.
## Chapter 1 - Unexpected Visits
Michael had been waiting for this moment since prom night.
Three weeks had passed, a stretch of time filled with anticipation and the occasional thrill of waking up to a message from Naomi. Their texts had been light, playful, but never quite substantial. He convinced himself that was just how she was--guarded in words but promising in presence. And now, finally, he was here.
The house was nothing like he had pictured. He imagined something modern, pristine, maybe a little cold, much like Naomi's effortless composure. Instead, the Yin family home in Parksville was warm and lived-in, a modest two-story with peeling paint along the front steps and wind chimes clinking softly in the ocean breeze. He felt a surprising comfort standing there, shifting on his feet as he rang the doorbell.
Naomi answered in a loose tank top and sweat pants, her black hair twisted into a lazy bun. She looked good. Better than good. And yet, as she leaned against the door frame, arms crossed, Michael felt the first prickle of something uneasy.
"Hey," he said, grinning, hoping she'd match his enthusiasm.
"Hey." Her voice was pleasant, her smile quick but thin. "Come in."
He followed her inside, glancing around the house as he toed off his shoes. The living room was cozy, shelves crowded with framed pictures and mismatched books. A small family shrine maybe with a large portrait of an older couple with two red vases on right side. A leather couch sat in front of an plasma screen television. There were hints of family everywhere--a rack of shoes by the door with extra slippers to switch into, a soft murmur of Cantonese from another room. This was a home. Not just a house.
"Your family here?" he asked, looking toward the hallway.
"My mom and dad are out. My sisters are upstairs." She shrugged as she walked toward the kitchen, barely glancing at him. "Want something to drink?"
Michael frowned, just slightly. "Uh, sure. Whatever you're having."
She poured two glasses of iced tea, handed him one, and perched herself on the kitchen stool. She took a slow sip, watching him over the rim. She casually picked up some corn she had been husking and continued. The bag open on the counter with extra ears looked ready to topple but she didn't seem to care. He wanted to think there was something in her gaze, something suggestive, but there wasn't. Just quiet observation in between rips of corn husk. Not disinterest, but not quite engagement either.
"So," he said, setting his drink down, "I've been looking forward to seeing you."
Naomi gave a small smile but didn't respond right away. She glanced out the window, watching a branch sway lazily in the wind. "Yeah, it's been a busy couple of weeks."
That wasn't what he wanted to hear. He waited for her to say more, but she didn't. A beat of silence passed, the hum of the refrigerator filling the gap. She dropped one ear from her small hands into a bowl and reached for another the bag wobbled and he stood up to close the distance and right it.
"You look great," he tried again, leaning in slightly.
She met his eyes, but there was no spark. "Thanks."
Something was off, the thanks felt like a push aha he retreated. Prom night had been easy. Electric. He remembered the way she'd laughed, how she leaned into him as they talked. How her hand had lingered just a little too long on his arm. That night had felt like an open door.
This? This felt like a vault door closing slowly but inevitable, uncaring and final.
"So what've you been up to?" he asked, trying to find the rhythm they once had.
"Just work. Helping out around here. Getting ready for university."
"Right. UBC, yeah? That's exciting."
"Mhm."
Michael shifted slightly, suddenly remembering the gift in his bag. He had spent more time and money than he'd admit picking it out--a silk scarf, delicate and expensive, something he imagined would suit Naomi's elegance. As he pulled it out and handed it to her, he watched her expression carefully.
She took it with a polite smile, running her fingers over the fabric. "Wow, this is... really nice, Michael.", but the tone was sad like he had made things harder.
Too nice. He could tell he was missing some essential understanding of what would have mattered to her. Naomi set it gently on the counter beside her iced tea, not draping it over her shoulders or examining it more closely. Just setting it aside.
"Thank you," she said, her voice kind but distant. "You really didn't have to."
I really didn't want you to, he translated internally.
Michael took another sip of his tea, feeling his pulse tick up. She wasn't being rude. She wasn't brushing him off entirely. But there was an unmistakable shift in the way she was speaking to him, the way she carried herself. There was no lingering glance, no teasing quip, no indication that anything from prom night had carried over to now.
He hesitated, fingers drumming lightly against his glass. "You know, I was thinking about that night."
Naomi tilted her head slightly. "Yeah?"
He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "It was fun. Really fun. I, uh... I guess.. I mean I hope that we could maybe see if it could go somewhere." He finished quietly but with a smile.
She didn't jump in to reassure him, didn't fill the silence with easy words. Instead, she just looked at him, waiting. It made him nervous.
"I mean, I don't know," he continued, forcing a casual laugh. "I wasn't sure if you felt the same way, but I thought maybe... maybe we'd hang out more?"
Naomi exhaled slowly and gave a small nod. "I had a really fun time that night. But, Michael... I don't think it's more than that."
He sat back, the words settling uncomfortably in his chest. "Oh. Right."
"It's not you." She smiled then, kind but firm. "I like you. You're easy to be around. But I'm not looking for anything serious. I'm not looking for... anything, really."
That didn't ring totally true but he knew he couldn't challenge her. Instead, Michael nodded slowly, looking down at his hands. He felt foolish, maybe even a little humiliated. He had built this up in his head, convinced himself that Naomi had been waiting for this as eagerly as he had. And yet, here she was, drawing the line without hesitation.
"I get it," he finally said, forcing a smile. "I just--yeah. I get it."
"I'm sorry if I gave the wrong impression. I really didn't mean to."
"No, it's fine. Really."
The conversation limped on for a little longer--small talk, forced laughter, a slow realization that this wasn't going to turn into anything more than what it was. Eventually, Michael glanced at his watch, pretending to check the time.
"I should probably get going.", the obvious lie as it had taken him two hours to drive here and he was leaving after just thirty minutes.
Naomi nodded, standing up with him. "Thanks for coming by."
At the door, she hesitated before giving him a light hug. It was brief, impersonal. A friend's hug. When she pulled back, she smiled again, and for a split second, Michael almost let himself believe there was regret in her eyes.
But then she said goodbye, and he stepped out onto the porch, feeling the warm summer air wrap around him in the absence of anything else.
As he walked toward his car, he forced himself not to look back.
The relationship dissolved after that. Calls to Sarah elicited no advice, there seemed to be no reason to talk. He really stopped thinking about Naomi, till one day in summer four years later close to the end of his shift.
Michael wiped his hands on a rag, the scent of gasoline clinging to his clothes. He had just spread the kitty litter over a gas spill and was cleaning off the crud that inevitably caked his fingernails. He had been at this job for almost a year now, working as a shift supervisor at the gas station. It wasn't what he had planned, but plans had a way of unravelling. And then, just as he was almost finished, a sleek, white audi pulled into the station.
He barely glanced up as he prepared to close out his shift, but when the driver stepped out, his breath caught. Naomi. She was wearing a white linen slacks with a matching shoulderless top that fit her snugly. Dark sunglasses perched on her head as she went to fill her tank.
It took her a moment to notice him, her focus on the gas pump. Then her eyes flickered in his direction, and surprise crossed her face before settling into familiarity.
"Hey stranger," she said with a warm smile.
"Naomi," he managed, wiping his hands again as if it would make a difference. "Wow. It's been a while." Why now, she doesn't need to see me like this.
She hadn't come here looking for him. That much was clear. They talked for a while at the pump, the easy chatter of people who had friends in common but now held years of space between them. When his shift ended, she suggested lunch, and he agreed, though part of him hesitated. Michael felt he might just be torturing himself.
They caught up over sandwiches at a nearby café. Naomi was finishing her degree, with multiple job offers lined up. She was moving into an apartment in Vancouver--her sister's old place. Michael, on the other hand, had a different story. He had started at UVic, fallen in love, been dumped with her taking up with a new guy almost immediately, fallen behind, and run out of money. Now, he was back in town, back in his old job, with no clear idea of what came next.
Naomi listened with kindness, never offering judgment but also not lifting him up with empty reassurances. He paid for lunch, insisting despite the thinness of his wallet, only to find himself at an ATM around the corner, withdrawing just enough to cover the bill. She said nothing except a quick offer to use her Visa, but he could feel it. What adult doesn't have a credit card?
By the time they parted, Michael felt heavier, the weight of comparison pressing on his shoulders. He had wanted to impress her, to show her he was doing fine. But as he watched her drive away, he knew--he wasn't.
He stood there for a long time before finally walking back to his Plymouth and driving home.
Two years later, Michael packed his few belongings into the back of that same Plymouth Reliant, the engine groaning as he pulled out of his mother's driveway. He was moving to Vancouver. He had no job lined up, only a modest inheritance from his grandfather that would keep him afloat for a little while. Staying in town, in the same job, in the same cycle of self-doubt, wasn't an option anymore. He had dated here and there even gotten into a relationship but he knew he was just standing still. He needed a change.
At first, he drifted, taking odd jobs and stretching his savings. Eventually, he found a position at an adult chat service, handling login issues and account restorations. It was strange, sometimes uncomfortable, but he was good at it. Call centers were a natural fit, and over time, he worked his way into management. When an early fintech startup came calling about a customer success manager role he jumped at the chance, finding himself in a career that finally felt like it had direction.
