They never saw me...
Not my parents. Not my family.
To them, I was a stain on a clean white page,unwanted, invisible.
In our home, love had walls.
Thick, silent, impenetrable walls.
I spent years on the wrong side of them.
So I dreamed of escape.
Of breathing without apologizing for it.
Of vanishing to a place where no one knew my name.
Asia became my map.
Japan, China, Korea, even Thai. I studied the languages like survival tools.
Some kids played with dolls.
I played with alphabets and goodbye plans.
And one day… I left.
No one stopped me.
Not even my parents.
Their silence was permission enough.
I landed in Tokyo with two suitcases and a stomach full of fear.
Within weeks, I found work at a yatai a small noodle stand under a red tarp, steaming with broth and rain.
The woman who owned it had tired eyes and kind hands.
She spoke softly.
She didn't ask questions.
And for the first time in my life… I felt seen.
Then came the night that changed everything.
— Good evening. Welcome. What can I get for you? I asked, bowing politely.
The man who stepped forward didn't smile.
He didn't belong.
Not in that cramped little food stall, not among the steam and chatter.
He looked like stone carved, cold, commanding.
His silence wasn't awkward.
It was… dangerous.
He didn't speak.
But his eyes did.
Sharp. Still. Calculating.
They watched me like I was a threat. Or a puzzle.
Or maybe just something that didn't make sense.
I dropped my gaze.
My heart was racing, and I had no idea why.
— Four bowls of soy noodles. Two bottles of sake, one of the other men finally said.
— Coming right up.
I turned toward the kitchen, desperate to shake off the weight of that stare.
When I returned to the counter, something felt off.
Too quiet.
Then the door burst open.
Three men walked in loud, aggressive, and reeking of trouble.
One of them, bald and tall, stepped toward my boss with a crooked grin.
— Hey, old lady. You're two months late. Give us the money, or we'll torch this dump.
I froze.
Loan sharks.
My boss turned pale.
— I-I don't have it yet… please, just give me a little more time
One of them shoved her.
She stumbled back, crashing into a stool.
— Hey! I shouted. What the hell is wrong with you?!
The bald man turned, eyeing me like prey.
— Look at that… a little gaijin trying to play hero.
He grabbed my waist, fingers digging into my hip.
— Not bad. For a foreigner...
Something snapped.
I reached into my apron, pulled out a pair of chopsticks, and stabbed them into his eye.
He screamed.
Blood.
Panic.
I grabbed the nearest chair and threw it.
Then I took a kitchen knife and stepped in front of the old woman.
— Touch her again or me and I swear I'll cut your damn throat.
The man writhed on the floor, clutching his face.
The others backed off.
— You're lucky, one spat. Next time the money's not there, we'll burn this place down. Including you, bitch.
They fled.
I stood frozen, the knife still shaking in my hand.
— You okay? I asked, turning to my boss.
— I'm… I'm fine. Thank you, Amal. Thank you.
Then I remembered the four customers.
I turned.
They were still there. Still watching.
And him…
He hadn't moved.
Hadn't blinked.
Hadn't flinched.
His face was unreadable.
But his eyes.
They hadn't softened.
If anything, they looked colder.
Like I'd just confirmed something he already suspected.
Then, without a word, he turned and left.
I stood in silence.
Confused.
Shaken.
Drenched in adrenaline.
That night, I walked my boss home.
Stayed with her.
Watched the shadows.
And kept wondering…
Who was he?
Why did his silence feel louder than any scream?
I didn't know it yet…
But that night, everything had already started to change...
........................
💬 Enjoyed the chapter?
👉 Tap LIKE, drop a comment, and add to your Library — it helps me keep writing and keeps the story alive 💖
More chapters coming soon… daily.