Chapter Text
Yuna always had a plan.
She needed to always be prepared; the world had a way of throwing curveballs her way. She couldn’t not have a plan for when they inevitably messed up her plans.
She had been caught off guard once when she had moved to Montreal with her father after her mother had passed.
She had been 14, trying to make sense of a new country where the language and rules were different.
She had only just gotten used to her new normal when her father remarried, and she inherited a fully formed family. A mother, two brothers, and a house that already had a rhythm, so she adjusted once again.
She started waking up early to help her mother cook and clean, stayed up late to help put her new siblings to bed, and stayed in on Sundays watching hockey with them, asking quiet questions until the rules began to make sense. She practiced her French until it stopped catching in her throat.
She made herself easy to accommodate.
Her stepmother praised her for it. Called her helpful. Dutiful. Good.
But she was sharp, always had been. She noticed how her family never seemed to accommodate her.
Conversations continued when she left the room. She was informed of decisions rather than involved in making them; she was always welcome to contribute, to help out, but no one checked up on her. She was familiar, but she never belonged.
She adjusted to this as well, working her way through school, tracking every expense, counting coins till she could finally afford to move out.
She was determined to build something entirely for herself, with no space for any doubts.
When she finally moved out, all her belongings were packed into a second-hand car. Her stepmother hugged her at the doorsteps, her father awkwardly wished her luck, and, predictably, no one asked her to stay.
She had settled into her life, perfectly executing her plan, finishing her degree, building her way up in a corporate position with no connections but simple grit.
She noticed David before she knew his name.
She saw him while she was in college, on a cold afternoon she hadn’t planned for. She had gone with a classmate to watch a hockey game. Her love for the game persisted over the years. She watched the game with her analytical gaze. Commenting on how the teams moved, taking note of their strengths and weaknesses.
And then he scored.
It wasn’t just the goal. It was the way he moved into it; clean, precise, inevitable, as if he had decided the outcome way before the puck came his way. His form was effortless, almost mathematical in its clarity.
And his eyes—bright, unmistakably blue—even from the stands.
She noticed something else, too.
A small, unfamiliar reaction, deep inside her chest.
It startled her.
So she watched more carefully.
She met him properly weeks later, through a mutual acquaintance.
Up close, he was… different from what she had expected.
He had a warmth unlike any she had ever experienced. He laughed openly and took an interest in everything she had to say. She sensed no deceit in his clear blue eyes.
He asked questions directly and waited for her answer, without feeling the need to fill the silences with mindless chatter. He seemed not to engage in the social niceties that had always kept her on her toes. She felt oddly enamoured by this hunk of a man, who towered over her but crinkled his adorably freckled cheeks at her wry statements. A freckle was a blemish; she had watched her mother and stepmother spend hours trying to even out their complexions, softening and concealing anything that might draw attention.
David did none of that. He carried himself without correction, without the quiet, constant adjustments she had come to expect from people, as though nothing about him needed to be refined before it could be offered to the world.
She didn’t need to second-guess what he was thinking; she didn't need to translate his intentions.
There was an ease in being with David she had not anticipated.
It was not a partnership devoid of effort, but of guesswork.
They felt tangible, like they were building a life in tandem, not one where she was expected to fit into leftover space, but a labour of love built piece by piece.