Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance



Status: In Progress

Genre: Romance



Ella, a writer and translator, is still wounded by her past. Her fear of intimacy holds her from meaningful relationships for so long, that she craves it despite being terrified by it. Could Catherine be her aid?


Ella, a writer and translator, is still wounded by her past. Her fear of intimacy holds her from meaningful relationships for so long, that she craves it despite being terrified by it. Could Catherine be her aid?

Chapter1 (v.1) - Part One: the girl (1)

Author Chapter Note

Hello, and welcome to LIEBEST! This is a non-serious work I do when I need to take breaks from my main writing projects. This is one of my first stories that is written in English, which is my second language. I hope if there are grammatical errors or typo you'd be willing to point them out to me. As for the content, because I only work on this when in need of refreshment, expect some more laid back story with no complicated conflict. Nonetheless, I hope you'll still be able to enjoy it. Happy reading!

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: February 10, 2018

Reads: 612

Comments: 1

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: February 10, 2018



PART ONE - the girl


It was foolish of her to think that long distance relationships would work. She should’ve seen it coming: from the shorter texts and e-mails, less frequent phone calls, and the apathy she often heard in her voice. Day after day, Ella thought about how maybe if she had insisted on Fannie to come with her to Netherlands, things would have been different. Then night after night, she thought about Fannie and her other lover, the girl she brought to her bed. The same bed Ella made love to her countless of times.

Now it’s been four months and Ella is still not over the bitterness of finding out she had been cheated on for nearly a year. The first few days when she hadn’t left to go back to Netherlands, Fannie called and cried, trying to make her stay. For more than once she wanted to say yes, to invite Fannie to her place where they could make amends. But she knew what had happened once might happen again, so she forced herself to be numb and said no, no, no.

Her editors back in her homeland has been calling for over eight times now, demanding her revision of her latest manuscript. Between writing a novel and a screenplay whilst having a broken heart has been hard, but she’s trying.

She just sent her revision to her editor when a stranger comes by her table at her usual café. “May I?” the stranger asks.

Ella gazes up to a blondie with colorful scarf around her neck. She’s another regular, Ella knows her face. In any other day, she would smile and give her permission with no further thinking. But she’s in a sour mood today and doesn’t want to be disturbed.

“The other tables are full,” the stranger insists.

Ella gazes all across the room, her eyes rest on one empty table in a pretty good spot. She looks back at the hopeful stranger and puts out her cigarettes on the ashtray filled with five faggots, her eyes roll, annoyed. “Yeah, whatever.”

The stranger smiles with glee, putting her cup of cappuccino down on the table as Ella shifts her laptop and pile of notes to her side on the table. “Thanks!”

Her grumble is the only answer the stranger gets. “So. . . .” Ella glares at her. “I’m Cat,” says the stranger, undisturbed.

“Hi, Cat,” says Ella. “I am irritated, annoyed, and would like you to kindly shut up.”

“Gee, such attitude.” Cat pours sugar into her cappuccino. Seeing Ella frowns, Cat starts to stir the sugar in. “Let me guess,” she props her elbow on table—Ella frowns at that too—and her chin on the heels of her palm, “you are the elitist, black-coffee, no sugar kind of person.”

Ella’s eyes narrow at her. With a scoff, she turns to her laptop, checking if there’s any update from her editor. There are none yet. She grabs her pile of notes, shoving them into a clear plastic map before shoving the map into her bag, reaching for her headset and plays Pac Man for PC.

Across her, Cat watches her in amused interest. She’s seen Ella as often as she sees Cat, but the ring on her finger trumps Cat’s interest. Now the ring is gone, and though Ella is still grumpy, she’s calmed a bit compared to how she was when she first came by without a ring on her finger. Cat wants to ask what happened, but it seems too inappropriate for their current state of acquaintances.

Ella plays for some time while Cat tends her boutique website through her iPad. When Ella removes her headset and closes her laptop, Cat’s gaze shoots upward. “Leaving?”

Her casual question is met with a grumpy cat-like glare. A beat passes before Ella answers, “Yes.”

She then proceeds to pack her laptop and headset into her bag, emptying the ashtray by the bin before returning to retrieve her bag. “Be careful! Have a safe ride back home.”

Ella stops beside the table, her bottom lip pouts in a way Cat finds adorable. “Thank you,” she says. She takes big, fast strides as though she can’t bear being near Cat anymore. Behind her, Cat smiles, mentally crossing off the first thing in her to-do list: talk to the mysterious, grumpy, broken-hearted girl whose name she still doesn’t know.


Cat’s encounter makes Ella feel uncomfortable going to the café, but it’s the only place outside her co-rented house that makes her feel creative. So when she finally get stuck on her screenplay and her little adventure of trying other cafés didn’t turn out successful, she has no other choice but to go to her usual.

It is as if Fortuna is too busy to care about her that day, when she walks into the café, both indoor and outdoor tables are all occupied. A few more than a dozen of young-adults are busy in front of their laptops and notebooks. It’s the finals week, and the college kids are using the homely atmosphere of the café to boost their brain productivity.

Ella freezes by the entrance, not sure where to go now, with a screenplay that’s due in a week but still has about eleven scenes unwritten. That’s when Cat recognizes her and waves in excitement. Ella’s mood instantly turns sour.

Cat signals with her index finger an empty seat by her booth. With no other choice, Ella jams her fists into her coat pockets and walk. She smiles—she tries. It looks awful. “Have a seat!” Cat invites, her face beaming with smile. Ella slides in, fists still in pockets.




“How are you?”

For a moment Ella considers that question. She decides to answer that truthfully. “A bit torn.”


She considers that again. “I think the answer would be inappropriate.”

Cat leans in on the table, forearms overlapping in front of her chest. “You don’t like me, do you?”

A beat. “No, not really.”

Cat cocks her head to the side, her expression both tickled and sympathetic. “You’re cute.”

A pause. “Thanks.”

“Wanna date?”

A sigh. No answer.

“It’s fine.” Cat pats Ella’s side of the table, Ella eyes her manicured fingers. “You can sleep on it. You want my number?”

“I think I’ll be fine without it. Thanks.”

Cat’s smile is unshaken by Ella’s rudeness. “At least you’re honest.”

“That’s what matters, right?”

Cat’s smile is wiped out and her expression serious. “No. What matters is being nice.”

Ella blinks, unprepared with that answer. Her lips agape, for once she’s not frowning. Then, Cat laughs. “I’m just joking! Well—half-joking.”

That forces Ella to let out an awkward scoff-laugh. Her face now unsure how to face Cat. “Go ahead,” Cat signals, “do your thing. I won’t disrupt you.”

It should’ve been Ella’s words, as she’s the one crashing Cat’s table. But Ella only eyes Cat, pulling her laptop out, and in a matter of seconds, she’s typing away.

Ella knows Cat’s watching her. She’s used of people watching her, albeit she doesn’t have such a huge fame. She’s just used to ignoring people, period. Once Cat understands that she doesn’t have to glance once in a while, pretending as though she’s minding her own business, she turns off her iPad and just props her head over the table, one hand supporting it. She devours all Ella’s detail: the faint, brown freckles spread over her face; the piercing in the middle of her bottom lip; her curls; the way sometimes her whole body move as though imagining an act; the way her brown eyes sometimes look up, not to anything in particular, just thinking.

A good twenty minutes pass and Ella is getting frustrated. Or maybe her work is getting to a frustrating part, Cat doesn’t know. What she does know, though, that Ella has been propping her cheek on her palm, covering and wiping her face, and hitting the BACKSPACE button numerous times. Her sigh also signals a not-so-hidden frustration. She chews on her upper lip, finally shakes her head in defeat and clicks CTRL + S.

“Done for today?”

She doesn’t have any more strength to shoot Cat a dirty looks. She just glances at her and says, “Ye.”

To this, Cat straightens her back. “You’re lacking clap-backs. Should I be worried?”

The small energy Ella gathered is enough to finally give Cat a dirty look. “Ah, there’s the girl I know. At least, girl from past four months.”

“What do you want?” Ella groans. “You’re being creepy.”

“Am I, now?”

Ella closes her eyes, head tilting back, her mouth opens as she inhales through her throat, a zombie-like sound echoes. “Just tell me what you want and please never bother me again.”

“But I saved you a seat.”

Her head is now tilting to the side, a part of her neck exposed. Her expression is filled with agony. “Given what I did to you a few weeks ago I’d say it’s an ethical thing to do.”

“Well,” Cat argues, “the café wasn’t really fully occupied then.”

Ella claps before points at Cat. “I knew it. You want something. Tell me what it is.”

Cat eyes her index finger in amusement. “Do you know that it’s considered inappropriate to point at someone?”

“So is putting your elbows on the table, yet you have no problem doing so.”

“True, true.” Cat smiles, her eyes glint. “So, we’re even, then.”

Ella shrugs. “Okay, whatever.” She shuts down her laptop and waits for it to fully turned-off. While waiting, she rolls her neck, loosening tight muscles, then stretches her arms upwards, her chest pushed forward. The way her face relaxes as she moans doesn’t escape Cat’s observation.

She grabs her laptop and starts packing. Ella is just about to stand when Cat finally blurts, “Why don’t you like me?”

Ella looks at her as Cat tightens her lips. A hint of sympathy shows in Ella’s face. “Don’t take it personal,” she says, “it’s not you; it’s somebody else.”

“Well it’s been four months.” Ella stops again. “Are you still not over him? Or . . . her?”

Cat has stepped over the line. She knows it just by the way Ella looks at her, eyes filled with emotions on such a blank, rigid face. “It’s ‘her’,” she answers. “And it is none of your business as well. Thank you for the seat. Good bye.”

Cat watches helplessly as Ella strides out of the table, stops by the cashier and trade numbers, for what Cat doesn’t know. Then Ella finally exits the café, never bothered to look back.

© Copyright 2018 Kasey Gae. All rights reserved.


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