"A Lease of Love, a contract for 30 days, no feelings allowed." - Episode 03

** The First Storm **

Monday came—my first official day of real work. If I thought things would be easy after last week's smooth orientation, I was dead wrong. Theory is completely different from actual warfare. The moment I walked through the coffee shop doors at six in the morning, I stepped into a rushing world where slowness was a crime.

"Aiden, you'll be on cash and drive-thru order today. I'm right here if you need backup," Sarah said with a smile as she adjusted her headset.

I nodded, desperately trying to hide my trembling hands. I put on my apron and name tag, then took my place in front of the cashier monitor. At first, everything went fine. I was a bit slow pressing the screen, but because the early customers were patient, they just gave small smiles while waiting for me.

But when eight in the morning hit, the real nightmare began. This was what they called the 'morning rush'—the hour when office workers rushed to get their caffeine fix before work. The line inside stretched out the door, and the honking in the drive-thru was endless. Fast-talking customers with all kinds of accents started jumbling together in my head.

"I need a large double-double, a breakfast wrap with no bacon, and an apple fritter, warmed up," a tall man in a suit rattled off.

"Pardon me, sir? Can you repeat the... the wrap part?" I asked politely, sweat already soaking my back despite the freezing air conditioning.

"Breakfast wrap. No. Bacon. Is that hard to understand?" the man said with irritation, glancing down at his expensive watch.

"Sorry, sir," I quickly tapped the screen. But in my panic and hurry, instead of removing the bacon, I double-clicked the add-on. I also failed to notice that I gave him the wrong change—I was completely confused by Canadian coins, unable to tell a loonie from a toonie without staring at them.

Five minutes later, the man stormed back to the counter. His face was beet red as he slammed the wrap and receipt onto the counter.

"Hey! Are you deaf or just stupid?!" he shouted, shattering the quiet chatter of the entire shop. Every single customer turned to look at us. "I said NO bacon, and you charged me extra! Plus, you gave me the wrong change! Where did they even hire you? Do you even speak proper English?!"

My world crumbled right then and there. All eyes were locked on me. My face burned with intense shame, and my tongue felt completely frozen. I wanted to explain, I wanted to tell him I was new, but nothing came out of my mouth except, "I... I'm sorry, sir. I'm sorry..."

Sarah quickly rushed over from the back upon hearing the shouting. "Is there a problem here, sir?" she asked, putting a calming hand on my shoulder.

"This guy is incompetent! He messed up my breakfast and my change. You shouldn't let people who can't even understand basic English work at the front counter!" the man snapped before snatching his correct change and food, which Sarah had swiftly fixed. He slammed the door behind him as he left.

Once the customer was gone, Sarah called me into the breakroom. My shoulders slouched, and I couldn't bring myself to look her in the eye. I braced myself for the lecture. I was ready to be blamed—maybe even fired on my very first day.

"Aiden, look at me," Sarah’s voice was gentle. I raised my head. There was no anger in her face, only understanding. "It's okay. First days are always tough. The morning rush here in Edmonton is brutal. But you need to slow down and listen carefully. Don't let rude customers get to you, okay? Take a five-minute breather, and then you can help out in the kitchen instead."

"Thank you, Sarah... and I'm really sorry," I whispered.

Even though Sarah was kind, the heavy pit in my stomach wouldn't go away. For the rest of my shift, I was assigned to the back to scrub massive pots, trays, and blenders. I preferred it back there because no customers were screaming at me, but the physical strain was brutal. My arms ached from continuous scrubbing, and my shoes were soaked in soapy water, leaving my feet freezing cold.

By four in the afternoon, my shift finally ended. As I stepped out of the shop, strong winds packed with snow hit my face. I climbed into Kiko's car with soaking wet socks and an exhausted body.

"So, how was the first official day? Why do you look like the sky collapsed on you?" Kiko asked, cranking up the car heater.

I couldn't hold it in anymore. From the overwhelming fatigue, shame, and homesickness built up all day, tears spilled over. I sobbed in the passenger seat, burying my face in both hands.

"Bro... it's so hard," I wept. "A customer yelled at me in front of everyone. Called me deaf and stupid just because I messed up my English and the change. I just want to go home to Bataan, man. I don't think I can make it here."

As the words left my mouth, a sudden wave of bittersweet memory hit me, transporting my mind back to the heat of the Philippines. I remembered how frantically I had rushed just to leave Bataan a few months ago. The sleepless nights completing my visa, the blurred, stressful days of borrowing money for the plane ticket, and the desperate, breathless hurry to pack my entire life into two oversized suitcases. I had pushed and forced the timeline so hard, running away from the stagnant life back home, absolutely convinced that Canada would be my instant salvation. I had been in such a reckless rush to escape. And now, sitting in a freezing car in Edmonton with wet socks and a shattered ego, the cruel irony stung—I was dying to run right back.

Kiko pulled the car over to the side of the road. Outside, thick snow fell steadily, as if sharing the weight of my pain. He let me cry for a few minutes before letting out a sigh.

"Let it all out, Aiden. It's normal. Like I told you the other night, we all go through this. My first week, I spilled hot coffee all over my own manager," Kiko joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Some people here can be really harsh, especially when they're in a rush in the morning. But don't you dare think you're stupid because of that. You're new. Your brain is still adjusting to a whole new culture and environment."

I wiped my tears with my damp gloves. "It just hurts so much, bro. Back in the Philippines, even though we were poor, no one ever humiliated me like that in public."

"Things are different abroad, man. Out here, your grit will really be tested," Kiko said seriously, shifting the car back into drive. "But remember why you're here and who you're doing this for. Think of your mom in Hong Kong, who might be enduring far worse yelling from her employer just to send money home. Think of your dad pouring concrete under the scorching sun. If you give up now over one rude customer, what happens to your roof in Bataan? What about the buckets?"

The word 'buckets' snapped me right out of my spiral. My tears dried up. Kiko was right. If I quit now, I'd go back to the Philippines as a failure. I'd go back to a home with a leaking roof every time it rained, and nothing in our lives would change.

When we got home, I immediately dialed my dad's number. When he answered, I forced my voice to sound cheerful despite the raspy tone from crying.

"Hey, Aiden, son! How was your first day at work?" my dad greeted, clearly excited to hear news from Canada. In the background, I could hear the faint pitter-patter of rain back home.

I took a deep breath, swallowing all the sadness and shame. "It went great, Dad! It was a bit crowded and tiring, but my manager is really nice. I can handle it. Just need a bit more practice with my English, and I'll be a master barista here."

"Aba, that's great to hear, son! Your mother and I are so proud of you. Take care of yourself out there, okay? Don't let the cold get to you," my dad replied, genuine joy in his voice.

"I will, Dad. Take care of yourselves too. I'll hang up now to get some rest," I said before ending the call.

Once my phone screen locked, I leaned back against my basement bedroom wall. My body still ached, and I was still terrified of going back tomorrow, but this time, my resolve was firmer. I will face tomorrow. I'll push through—for them.

But as I stared at the dark ceiling, my phone suddenly chimed. An e-mail notification from the coffee shop. Unexpectedly, I opened it—and my entire body instantly went cold at what I read.

Is this the end of my dream before it even truly began?

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