Noah sat on an overturned crate behind the stall, his fingers absentmindedly turning the contract over and over in his hands. The paper felt heavier than it should, as if the words written on it carried more than just a business proposal, this was a turning point.
The delivery had proven one thing: Marco Vasquez wasn't all talk. The man had real connections, the kind that could change everything for Noah's Crunchy Bites. The chicken he had sent was top-tier, fresh and neatly packed, and it had cost less than what Noah was used to paying. The numbers made sense, the opportunity was real.
But there was always a catch.
Across from him, Rina leaned against the wall, arms crossed as she watched him in silence. Finally, she sighed.
"So? What's the verdict?"
Noah stared at the contract for a moment longer before exhaling. "Twenty percent is a lot to give up. I'd be losing control over part of the business."
Rina didn't hesitate. "Then don't take the deal."
"It's not that easy," Noah muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Without better ingredients, without growth, we'll be stuck in the same spot. I don't just want to run a stall forever."
Rina tilted her head slightly, considering his words. "So what, you just hand over a chunk of your business to some rich guy and hope he doesn't take advantage of you?"
Noah shook his head. "No. But if I don't take this deal, or at least, a deal, then how long am I supposed to wait for growth? Two years? Five? I don't want to be flipping chicken in the same stall forever, Rina."
She was quiet for a moment before she finally nodded. "Alright. Then we need to set the terms, not him."
Noah smirked. "Exactly."
---
That evening, Noah found himself sitting in a quiet café, tapping his fingers against the wooden table. The warm scent of brewed coffee filled the air, and the dim lighting gave the place a relaxed, intimate feel. He glanced at his phone. Five minutes early.
Marco Vasquez was already there, seated by the window with a cup of black coffee in front of him. The man looked effortlessly put together, dressed in an expensive but casual button-up, sleeves neatly rolled up to his elbows. He was scrolling through his phone, but as soon as he noticed Noah approaching, he set it down and greeted him with a small, knowing smile.
"Noah," Marco said smoothly. "I assume you've made your decision?"
Noah slid into the seat across from him, pulling the contract out of his bag and placing it on the table. "I have," he said, keeping his tone even. "But I have conditions."
Marco raised an eyebrow, his expression one of amusement. "Go on."
Noah took a breath. "Ten percent. Not twenty. And I retain full control over business decisions."
Marco chuckled, stirring his coffee lazily. "That's a steep cut. You drive a hard bargain."
"I know my worth," Noah replied, not breaking eye contact. "And let's be real, you wouldn't have made the offer if you didn't think I was profitable."
Marco smirked, tapping his fingers against the table in thought. He seemed to enjoy the challenge. After a moment, he took a slow sip of his coffee before setting the cup down.
"Smart," he admitted. "But I can't agree to ten percent just like that."
Noah expected as much. He leaned back slightly. "Then counter me."
Marco laced his fingers together, studying him carefully. Finally, he nodded. "Fifteen percent," he said. "But in exchange, I provide more than just ingredients, I'll help you secure a second location when you're ready."
Noah's heart pounded.
A second location.
That was huge. Bigger than he had imagined.
He kept his face neutral, refusing to show just how much that offer excited him. "And I still retain decision-making power?"
Marco nodded. "You're the face of this business. I'm just investing."
Noah stared at him for a long moment, letting the weight of the decision settle. This was it, the moment where Noah's Crunchy Bites would stop being just a food stall and start becoming something bigger.
He extended his hand. "Then we have a deal."
Marco shook it, his grip firm. "Pleasure doing business with you."
As Noah walked out of the café, the city lights casting a soft glow over the streets, his mind was already racing with possibilities.
This was the real beginning.
He wasn't just running a food stall anymore.
He was building an empire.
---
Some time later as Noah came home
The scent of warm broth and grilled fish filled the dining room as Noah set the last dish on the table. His mother, Lilia, adjusted the serving spoons, while his father, Daniel, scrolled through his phone with a tired expression.
"Looks good, anak(1)," Daniel said as he finally set his phone aside. "You've been cooking a lot lately."
"Practice," Noah replied, taking his seat. "Gotta keep improving."
Across the table, Ethan reached for the rice pot, scooping a generous portion onto his plate. "You're starting to sound like a chef," he teased. "Gonna open a restaurant next?"
Noah smirked. "Maybe."
Sophia, who had been quietly sipping her soup, raised an eyebrow. "You're really serious about this food stall, huh?"
Noah nodded. "It's more than just selling food. I want to grow it into something bigger."
Lilia smiled proudly. "That's good, Noah. But make sure you're taking care of yourself too. You've been working a lot."
"I know, Ma," Noah assured her.
His gaze flickered toward his father. Daniel had always been a hardworking man, spending long hours at the bank, often bringing paperwork home even after his shift. He never complained, always providing for the family, but Noah knew the stress was taking a toll.
And that was what worried him.
He remembered too clearly the future he had once lived through, the way his father had pushed himself too hard, ignoring his health until it was too late. The memory of Daniel collapsing from exhaustion in his office, the eventual heat stroke, and then the fatal heart attack years later was burned into his mind.
Noah wasn't going to let that happen again.
He cleared his throat. "Pa, have you thought about exercising a little?"
Daniel paused mid-bite, glancing at him. "Exercise? I get enough of that at work."
Ethan chuckled. "Sitting at a desk all day doesn't count, Pa."
Daniel shot him a mock glare before turning back to Noah. "I'm fine, anak. I've been doing this job for years."
"I know," Noah said carefully, "but maybe just some light workouts? Even just a short walk before or after work?"
Sophia nodded. "Noah has a point. You're always at the office or in front of a computer."
Lilia placed a hand on Daniel's arm. "You're not getting any younger, Dan. It wouldn't be a bad idea to take care of yourself."
Daniel sighed, setting his spoon down. "You all ganging up on me now?"
Noah grinned. "We just want you to be healthy."
After a moment of silence, Daniel chuckled. "Alright, alright. I'll think about it."
Noah relaxed a little. It wasn't a full commitment, but it was a start.
As the family continued their meal, laughter and light conversation filled the room. For a moment, everything felt warm and familiar, like the way things used to be.
But Noah knew better than anyone, if he wanted to keep this peace, he had to act.
This time, he wouldn't let history repeat itself.
---
End of Chapter 22
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(1) anak – a Filipino term meaning "child" or "son/daughter."