Annette was crouched low beneath the chassis of a rugged SUV, her hands expertly twisting the torque wrench as she replaced a worn-out brake rotor. Grease smudged her overalls, and sweat clung to her brow beneath a loosely tied bandana. Around her, the rhythmic clanking of tools, faint oil fumes, and the distant hum of engines created a mechanical symphony that grounded her focus.
She was aligning the final bolt when Jayson's shadow fell across her.
"Annette's," he called out , tugging his gloves, "you've got a client at the front. Says he won't speak to anyone else."
Without looking up, she replied curtly, "I'm elbow-deep here, Jayson. You take him."
"I tried," Jayson said with a resigned sigh. "But he's persistent-stubborn as a stripped screw. Won't take no for an answer. Says he'll wait all day if he has to."
Annette let out a breath, exasperated. "Who even comes to a garage requesting a specific mechanic like it's a salon appointment?"
Jayson shrugged with a crooked grin. "Apparently, maybe you left quite the impression last time."
With a muttered groan, Annette wiped her hands on a rag, stood up, and tossed it on workbench. "Fine. Let's see what kind of royalty needs their tires rotated today."
She peeled off her gloves and headed toward the customer bay, the grit and at in her boots crunching against the tiled garage floor.
To her surprise, As Annette turned the corner into the reception bay, she froze in her tracks. There he was--Kinuthia-leaning casually against a glossy black sedan, arms crossed and a thin, unreadable smile playing on his lips.
What the hell...? she thought, her brows furrowing. How did he even know I work here?
Trying to compose herself, she tucked a stray dread behind her ear and approached him.
"Good morning," Kinuthia greeted, his voice smooth but edged with something unreadable.
"Good morning to you," Annette replied colly, slipping on her professional tone. "Looks like I've got a client with special needs today-beyond just a car trouble."
Kinuthia chuckled softly. "My car's engine... it's been acting up. Thought I'd have it looked at."
Without another word, Annette gestured toward his vehicle and strode toward it. He followed behind, his footsteps light but hesitant.
She popped the hood with practiced ease and leaned in, her fingers dancing over the components-checking the spark plugs, the coolant levels, belt tension, even the oil color. Her brow furrowed in skepticism and she ran her hand along the engine's surface, then flicked the cap of the air filter housing open.
After a few moments, she straightened up, wiped her hands on a rag, and slammed the hood shut.
"There's nothing wrong with his engine," she said, turning to face him, eyes narrowed. "Everything's running smooth. No noise, no heat imbalance, no lose parts."
Kinuthia gave a sheepish murmur," "Ah...I thought there might be a problem."
She crossed her arms, arching a brow. "You thought? So there was no real issue, you just-brought it in on a hunch?"
Kinuthia's gaze faltered for a second, but he shrugged nonchalantly.
Annette stepped closer, her voice lowering. "And how exactly did you know I work here, Kinuthia? You don't strike me as someone who stumbles upon a garage by chance."
He didn't answer immediately. Just smiled-slightly nervous, slightly smug-and shoved his hands into his pockets.
Annette scoffed under her breath and turned away, heart ticking a little faster than it should. "You're wasting my time."
Kinuthia raised both hands slightly in a half-defensive, half-placating gesture. 'Honestly, I just guessed you were still working here," he began, his voice low and sincere. "You once mentioned this garage back when you were in college-said you used to work here part-time. I happened to be passing by and thought...well, it wouldn't hurt to stop and say hi."
Annette stood with her arms folded, expression unreadable. She tilted her head slightly, then replied in a clipped tone, "If your real concern was Asta and Sophie, you should have called your wife and asked her how they're doing. It wasn't necessary for you to drive all the way here just because you had a passing curiosity."
Kinuthia chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well ...I also wanted to see you. Say hi."
Annette's lips curled into a mirthless smile. "And you couldn't just send a text? Or make a call?" She gestured vaguely toward the road. "Do you even consider how expensive petrol is these days, Kinuthia? Or the fact that I'm actually working?"
Her tone was edged with irritation, but Kinuthia didn't flinch. Instead, he stepped forward slightly, his eyes softening.
"Why are you reducing this to petrol and time management?" he asked quietly. "Is that what you think-me coming to see you is a waste? Aren't you important enough for me to take a little detour?"
Annette's expression faltered for a split second, the tension in her jaw softening before she masked it again with a cool shrug.
Annette's eyes narrowed, her arms crossing tightly over her chest as she took a deliberate step back, creating both physical and emotional distance. Her voice was laced with restrained bitterness.
"Oh, really?" she said, a dry scoff escaping her lips. "I didn't know I was that important-her lips. "I didn't know I was that important-especially not when you stood in front of my mother and confidently announced that you had already made your primary choice."
Kinuthia opened his mouth but faltered, the words catching in his throat. "Annette...it-it wasn't like that," he stammered. "At the time, I didn't feel like I had much of a choice."
Her eyes blazed now, the anger she'd kept simmering beginning to rise. "And now you do, huh?" she shot back, her tone sharp as a blade. "Now you suddenly have choices? Now that everything's settled-when I've moved on, built my life from the ground up without you?"
Kinuthia took a cautious step closer, his voice softening, pleading. "Please...Annette, just give a moment. I can explain everything. You deserve to know the truth-not the twisted version that got passed around."
Annette let out a cold laugh, her gaze piercing. "And what truth is that, Kinuthia? That you didn't have the spine to stand by me when it mattered? That you made your choice and only came back when the consequences started to bite?"
The silence between them tightened, heavy with unsaid words and years of buried emotions.
From a distance, Jayson had noticed the thick tension swirling in the air like heat rising from hot tarmac. His brows drew together as he walked close, wiping grease from his hands with a worn rag tucked into his overalls. Kinuthia saw him approaching and instinctively took a few steps back, as if retreating from a scene he no longer had control over. His eyes shifted uncomfortably, pretending to busy himself with his car's side mirror.
Jayson slowed beside Annette, casting a brief, assessing glance at Kinuthia before turning his full attention to her.
"Annette," he began, his voice firm but casual, "I'm trying to remove the stabilizer linkage, but the bolt's jammed-it won't budge even after I torqued it. I could use an extra pair of hands down there. Are you done here?"
Without missing a beat, Annette nodded briskly. "Definitely," she replied, wiping her hands on a cloth. She turned to Kinuthia, her expression cool and unreadable.
"I believe we're finished here," she said with finality, her tone leaving no room for protest.
Then, without waiting for a response, she pivoted and walked away, the echo of her boots sharp against the garage floor. Jayson followed behind, casting one last curious glance at Kinuthia's before disappearing with Annette into a service bay, leaving Kinuthia standing in the middle of the garage, surrounded by the scent of oil, metal-and everything unsaid.
Annette bent slightly, her hands expertly inspecting the stabilizer linkage. With a sharp, knowing glance toward Jayson, she raised a brow.
"Are you absolutely certain this was where you needed an extra hand?" she asked, the corner of her lips tilting into a half-smirk. "A genius like you, struggling with a jammed bolt? That's almost hard to believe."
Jayson chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his head, his face tinged with the faintest shade of embarrassment. "Aaah...okay, you caught me," he confessed, voice faltering with playful guilt. "I saw the tension from across the floor, and, well...I figured I'd stage a rescue. Just a good old-fashioned excuse to pull you away."
Annette gave a small, appreciative nod, folding her arms loosely. "Mmmmh...I'll admit, I appreciate the effort," she murmured, her voice softer now, touched with sincerity.
A moment of quiet passed between them before Jayson, trying to tread carefully, tilted his head and asked," By the way, Metty...if you don't mind me asking-who was that man? I mean, only if you're comfortable sharing. If it's personal, I totally understand."
Annette paused, her gaze drifting slightly as if weighing his intentions, the metallic clinks of the garage momentarily fading around her.
Annette exhaled quietly and replied, her voice steady but detached, "That was my baby daddy."
Jayson blinked, taken aback for a moment, then his expression contorted into a storm of disbelief and indignation. "What?" he muttered, his tone rising. "That rubbish?" His hands curled into tense fists at his sides. "The same man who made you feel like an ant beneath his heel? Who abandoned you when you needed him the most? Who humiliated and insulted you were nothing?"
Emotion surged in his voice now, barely contained fury bubbling to the surface. His chest heaved slightly as his jaw tightened. "What the hell was he doing here? Trying to plead? To ask for forgiveness? Hoping for a second chance?"
Annette turned to him, her expression calm-too calm for the tempest Jayson felt. "It's in the past now," she said firmly, a hint of weariness in her voice. "I've outgrown that chapter. I'm focused on the present-and my future. He's nothing to me anymore. I could never give him another chance."
Jayson's shoulders slowly relaxed at her words, a long sigh of relief escaping his lips. The fire in his chest dulled, replaced by something softer-respect, admiration, perhaps even quiet protectiveness. He gave her a slight nod, as if to say that's the woman I know.