Page 101 of From Rivals to I Do

“So, deciding to move to Japan is an action enough to have made me end up here on your roof?”

“Maybe,” Derrick adds, smiling.

“Enough for us to book the same flight, sit side by side, choose houses beside each other? Oh please.”

For the first time since this ordeal began, I feel at ease with Derrick. The tension between us has lessened, and I can’t help but admit that his presence offers a certain comfort in this otherwise uncomfortable situation.

As we continue to talk, I start to observe the intricate details of Derrick’s features. His rugged hands, his eyes that seem to hold countless untold stories, and the lines etched into his face that hint at a past filled with both pain and resilience. There’s a depth to him that I hadn’t noticed before, a sense of complexity and a history of experiences that only further pique my curiosity.

The intensity of the situation amplifies the sharpness of my observations, making Derrick, who had once been a mere acquaintance, appear more layered and fascinating than ever.

“You know, you’re not at all what I expected,” I say as I look into his eyes.

“What did you expect?”

“I’m not sure, but it wasn’t this. I guess I thought I had you all figured out when I met you on the plane.”

“People are rarely what they seem on the surface,” he says.

“But there’s definitely some cubes of nattiness in you,” I say, and we throw ourselves back in laughter.

The laughter puts some pressure on my stomach, which constantly reminds me of our situation, growling its own testament to the passing hours of uncertainty. Hunger gnaws at my insides, and I can only assume Derrick feels the same.

“I’m famished,” I admit, yawning my gut out.

“Same here,” Derrick also admits. The vulnerability of our predicament amplifies the pressing need for nourishment.

Breaking the silence, Derrick stands up, determination etched across his features. His footsteps reverberate in the confined space as he crosses the rooftop to revisit the corner he’d explored earlier. The contents of his earlier discovery spark an idea, and I observe as he reaches for bottles of water. A glimmer of hope begins to flicker within me, a sign that perhaps we won’t have to endure hunger in this bleak confinement.

In his hands, he carries a carton, which he eagerly drops and opens, unveiling a variety of supplies. Glucose packs, dry milk, and canned food present themselves to us. Relief mingles with amusement upon seeing our culinary options. It’s far from a gourmet meal, yet closer than close to sustenance, a precious commodity in this moment.

Derrick returns with his found treasures and places them between us. A smile tugs at my lips as he opens the can of fish.

“Canned mackerel, huh?” I ask sarcastically. “It’s not exactly what I had in mind for dinner.”

“I know, right? I’m sure it’s not your idea of a gourmet meal either.”

We share a light-hearted laugh, the room’s tension easing, if only for a brief moment.

“It’s not much, but it’s all I’ve got up here,” Derrick says. “We’ll have to make do.”

“Absolutely. It’s better than going hungry. Thank you.”

Derrick nods and spreads his arms wide open. “Welcome to my buffet.” I smile.

Side by side, we open the cans of mackerel and begin to savor our meager yet welcomed meal. The metallic tang of the canned fish combines with the growing camaraderie between us. Our meal may lack gourmet qualities, but it tastes better than any dish I’ve ever had because it signifies survival, unity, and hope.

“You know, this mackerel isn’t bad at all. Who would’ve thought we’d be sharing canned fish on a roof surrounded by water?”

“Life has a way of surprising us. But I’m just grateful we have something to eat.”

On the roof with dim lighting, we share this simple meal, engaging in conversation punctuated by comfortable silences. Our shared laughter resonates in the confined space, offering a brief respite from the otherwise oppressive silence of our captivity.

The hours keep creeping by, and I feel sleepy. I stretch over to lay on the floor when Derrick stands up and walks to a corner, returning with a sack of old clothes. He pulls them out and makes a soft surface for me to lie on. I thank him.

Soon, all of the stress and panic of the past hours would thin out in the sleep that beckons to me. And I don’t resist.

Chapter sixteen

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