Sana... well, she was quite the brave person. Someone who was unafraid to defend herself. And so, the beginning of our story was far from ideal. The entire situation caught us both off guard.

          "Will this be for takeout?"

I was in a fast-food joint, my stomach growling with hunger after a fruitless search for a part-time job under the blazing sun. It felt like I was walking on fire out there. The sun's scorching heat was relentless, and I needed to refuel.

"Takeout," I replied finally, my voice a bit weary.

"It won't take long. You can wait on the side while we prepare your order."

Before our conversation could come to a close, I seized the opportunity to ask about potential job openings. Well, who knows, right?  "Excuse me, are you looking for a part-timer? Any position is okay for me," I said.

The woman's initial surprise gave way to a thoughtful expression. "I'm not the one you should talk to, but the manager is not here either," she explained. "But as far as I know, we're in need of someone to deliver food house to house."

My eyes lit up with hope. "Really? Can you put in a word for me with the manager?" I hastily scribbled my phone number on a tissue napkin and handed it to her.

"Of course, I can do that for you. I'll pass on your number to the manager."

I nodded gratefully and offered a polite bow, my hope beginning to bubble up. It felt like the right time to be optimistic, so a sweet smile graced my lips. But just as I was savoring the potential for a brighter future, a sudden, firm grip yanked my arm, forcibly turning me around.

My smile faded, replaced by bewilderment and a twinge of anxiety. Before I could process the situation, a stinging slap landed on my cheek. My head jerked to the right, hair obscuring my face as I reeled from the shock and pain.

It hurt like hell.

I remained in that vulnerable position, unsure of what had just happened. The world seemed to blur around me as I struggled to make sense of it all.

Then, a voice lashed out, filled with anger and accusation. "How dare you sleep with my boyfriend? Are you that low? Ruining people's relationships because you can't find someone who can love you dearly?"

My eyes squinted in confusion as the accusations poured forth. Me? Sleeping with her boyfriend?

I finally straightened up, revealing my face to the enraged woman. She looked at me with equal astonishment, and I realized with a sinking feeling that she had mistaken me for someone else.

Uh-oh, she'd slapped the wrong person. That should be embarrassing.

And it was equally embarrassing to me.

I could sense the eyes of the onlookers, their curious gazes locked on me, the unfortunate recipient of the mistaken slap.

I cleared my throat, attempting to ease the tension with a forced, nervous chuckle. "I... I never had... I never slept with anyone's boyfriend." I grinned awkwardly, trying to make light of the bizarre situation. "I wouldn't even consider being with a guy. I'm into women, you know... it's true... um... I'm not your... person, miss slapper."

A heavy hush enveloped us, elongating seconds into what seemed like an eternity. Finally, the woman ended the silence with a muttered apology and a deep bow. "I'm sorry! I thought... your hair and body type, from behind, they just... looked the same. I'm genuinely sorry."

I scratched the top of my head, not quite sure how to respond. It wasn't as if there was a manual for handling a situation like this. Though I could have lashed out in anger for the unwarranted slap in front of all these people, it wouldn't have lessened the throbbing pain in my cheek. Instead, I decided to laugh.

"Excuse me... the food is ready."

It was an awkward timing, but a good save –  a way to put some distance between myself and the lady who had mistakenly slapped me. I swiftly retrieved my food, placing it into a takeout paper bag.

As I turned back again to face the woman, she still appeared guilty, her remorse evident in her expression. I hesitated, not knowing what to say, and simply walked past her.

But as I neared the door, a thought popped into my head. The lady who had slapped me—wasn't she rather beautiful?

I stopped in front of the exit, and a curious impulse overcame me. I turned back to see her still standing there, consumed by guilt.

"Hey, miss slapper!" I called out to her.

And she turned around to face me.

"I have to admit, that was a very good slap," I said with a sly smile. "I was getting pretty sleepy, but you woke me up, so thanks for that." My voice was loud, and everyone in the restaurant heard our conversation.

I continued, trying to ease the tension. "I understand you were acting based on your feelings. You saw me and mistook me for someone who upset you. So... that happened," I said. "Slapping might not be the best way to resolve things, but if it makes you feel better, then it's all good, right?"

The lady just stared at me, still seemingly unsure how to react. I went on, "And as for your boyfriend, well, he deserves a slap too. Cheating is a two-way thing, and you have every right to be mad at him as well as the girl he cheated on you with."

After a brief pause, I offered her some advice, half-jokingly. "And if you'll take some advice... try dating women. You're too pretty to be dating men," I said. "You know what they say, pretty girls are meant for pretty girls. So, go find someone pretty instead." With that, I turned away, leaving the fast-food joint behind.

For some reason, it felt good. I hoped I had managed to put the lady at ease and prevent her from dwelling on that slap all day long and in the days to come. Instead, I hoped she would think about it later and have a good laugh later. I wanted her to know that I wasn't upset. You know, life is too short to carry unnecessary feelings.

It had been ten days since I started this new job. Being a delivery person came with its own set of challenges, but it was a gem of a job.

They provided me with a motorbike, and I could use it even on days when I wasn't working. Plus, the free meals were a bonus. The owner, Mr. Lee, was an old man with a kind heart, and his son, Chan, managed the place. They were both good guys, and I quickly became friends with them.

I had just finished my deliveries for the night and rode back to the restaurant to log off. It was a typical evening, and I was in a hurry to finish my work. As I scribbled my name and the time on the log sheet, the heavens opened up, and heavy rain started pouring down.

"Ah, umbrella... I don't have one." There were none available by the door either.

My raincoat was sitting in the motorbike's compartment. It shouldn't be a problem; I could just make a run for it. The bike wasn't parked too far away, but I needed to hurry to avoid it getting soaked.

I turned to head for the entrance, ready to brave the downpour, but I was stopped in my tracks by the figure of a woman's back standing by the door. It appeared that she was also seeking cover from the rain.

I stepped out of the restaurant and stood beside the woman, and initially, I hadn't noticed her face. It was only when she turned, and our gazes met that I recognized her. My immediate reaction was to instinctively cover my face, and who could blame me? This was the same woman who had slapped me a few days ago.

I peeked out from my protective stance. Is this her sulking face? Cute.

"I'm just kidding," I chuckled, lowering my hand. She gave me a playful eyeroll.

"Do you work here now? Last time you were just a customer."

"Yes... I work here now. I'm the one assigned to deliver the food."

"Ah, I see."

"What brings you out here at this hour? It's pretty late."

"Well, I just wrapped up my shift," she replied, nodding towards a tall building not too far from here. "That's where I work, as a telephone service representative."

"Ah. Late-night shifts must be tough."

She nodded in agreement and then continued, "I was on my way home, but then this rain started pouring. This was the nearest spot I could find to take cover." Looking at the heavy rain, she turned to me and asked, "What about you? Are you headed home as well?"

"Yes, I am."

"You don't have an umbrella, do you?"

"Well, I don't have an umbrella," I said, "but I do have a raincoat in my motorbike. If we make a run for it, we can reach it in no time."

"That sounds like a plan," she said with a smile. "But wait, the raincoats... do you have two of them?"

I hesitated. "I... yes, I do." I'm not sure why I said that, but it just came out.

As we decided to make a run for it, I stepped down first, contemplating whether to offer my hand to guide her. Instead, I resorted to a push and pull gesture, trying to signal her to follow me.

However, it seemed that she anticipated me actually holding her hand, so she leaned into the supposed support. That caused her to slip on the wet cobblestone, and she instinctively grabbed my sleeve just in time. As a result, we both lost our footing and tumbled to the ground. To our (un)fortunate luck, the concrete was sloping downward, and we ended up rolling on the damp pavement.

"Oh, my god!" she exclaimed.

In the midst of it all, I instinctively pulled her head toward my chest, attempting to shield her. There we lay on the wet ground, being showered by the rain, both of us unable to contain our laughter.

"What the hell was that?" she asked, still laughing.

 "What do you mean, 'What the hell was that?' You dragged me!" We exchanged a playful bickering, still lying on the ground with rainwater splashing on our faces, making it hard to keep our eyes open.

She defended herself, "You were the one who made me think you were going to hold me! You left me hanging in the air, did you know that?"

"Okay, it's my fault. I should've been clearer." I helped her sit up, still keeping my arms around her for a moment. Then I said, "I think I've had enough rainwater for today. We should probably get up."

As we got to our feet, she remarked, "I guess the raincoat would've been of no use now. We're already soaking wet." I nodded in agreement, silently relieved that she wouldn't have to know that I lied about having two raincoats.

"Hey, isn't it dangerous to ride the motorbike in this heavy rain, though?"

I s