HAN & JUL S2E1: Everything Felt Lighter

They weren’t official. No titles, no promises.

“Don’t pick that one,” Jul said, raising an eyebrow at the bottle in Han’s hand. “You don’t even like sweet wine.”

Han paused mid-reach, bottle hovering over the grocery cart like a decision waiting to be made. “That’s not true. I like sweet things.”

She looked at him, arms folded, black mini dress hugging her like it had been stitched on her body. “You like control. Not sweetness.”

Han chuckled, setting the bottle gently in the cart anyway. “Same thing, depending on who’s serving it.”

Jul gave him a look that would’ve slapped someone else. But with him, it landed as a smirk. “You’re feeling bold this morning.”

“I spent the night with you,” he said, pushing the cart forward. “I’m allowed to feel things.”

Jul groaned, shaking her head as they strolled past the tomatoes and onions. “Why do you say stuff like that in public? Someone’s aunt is probably praying against us right now.”

He leaned slightly toward her, mock-serious. “Then let her pray harder. We’re buying pineapples.”

She laughed. Loud, head tilted back, the kind of laugh that made strangers turn around and smile without knowing why. And Han… Han just watched her. Not how a man watches a woman he wants to conquer, but how a boy looks at the sun and still can’t believe it’s warming him back.

She reached for a mango and tossed it in the cart. “So, this is what we are now?”

“What?” Han asked, eyes still fixed on her.

“This,” she gestured between them. “Couple-y banter in front of confused fruit sellers.”

He grinned. “I don’t hear them complaining.”

Jul narrowed her eyes, walking around to his side of the cart. “You’re enjoying this too much.”

“I am,” he said without shame. “You’re here. You’re laughing. And you’re not wearing heels to run away.”

Her smile faltered just slightly, but she recovered. “Don’t read too much into it. I just wanted mangoes.”

Han tilted his head. “You didn’t even buy mangoes when you lived across the street from that fruit woman in Surulere.”

“That woman was mean, Han.”

“You’re mean.”

“But I’m pretty.”

He pretended to consider. “You’ve got a point.”

They walked a little further in silence, the kind that felt like music in the background of a scene you didn’t want to end. At the end of the aisle, Han slowed the cart.

“You slept in today,” he said, tone suddenly softer.

“You didn’t wake me.”

“I didn’t want to.”

Jul glanced at him. “Why not?”

“Because you looked… happy,” he replied, almost carefully. “Peaceful.”

“I was tired.”

“No,” Han said. “You looked free.”

Jul didn’t answer. She picked up a lemon and turned it in her hand. “Let’s not ruin today by over-talking it.”

He nodded. “Fair.”

But then she added, “Last night wasn’t a mistake.”

Han didn’t move, but something in his face shifted — like someone inside him exhaled.

“I didn’t think it was.”

Jul smiled faintly. “Okay. Just… letting you know.”

A boy ran past them with a plantain bunch nearly bigger than his torso. Han stepped slightly in front of Jul instinctively, shielding her without thinking.

She noticed. She didn’t say anything. But she noticed.

They moved to the checkout line, surrounded by fresh produce and a morning that smelled like possibility.

“You coming over again tonight?” Han asked, casually dropping the question like it wasn’t the one his entire body had been holding onto.

Jul pretended to study a pawpaw. “What’s for dinner?”

“I was thinking noodles. And…”

“And?”

“And I'm not trying to control everything.”

Jul laughed. “That sounds delicious.”

He looked at her, smiling. “Then stay.”

She bumped his shoulder lightly. “We’ll see. If you don’t burn the noodles.”

“You burn my peace daily,” he replied.

She grinned. “And you still show up.”

He held her gaze. “Every time.”