The morning of their trip, at 6 AM, Thalia is bursting with energy, her senses on high alert. Faced with the task of keeping the road trip lively, she has curated a playlist with the beats of early 2010s party anthems, determined to fend off any chance of Miguel dozing off at the wheel. In response, he teases her to take over in case. Thalia scoffs and continues to savor her morning hashbrown, a small breakfast meal from their pit stop in Red Deer, a quaint town two hours away from Edmonton.

Afterward, they cruise past Calgary, another city that rivals theirs in terms of hockey and being the "better" place to reside in. Edmonton is the capital of Alberta; however, all the embassies, for instance, are in Calgary. These are all fun facts she has obtained from Miguel, who acts as a tour guide, sharing intriguing tidbits as he drives. Thalia's mind, unfortunately, is buzzing with the other information she's gathered over the past week.

It has been... Enlightening, to say the least. Her body had reacted in ways she didn't know it could. Or more like, she'd pushed them away successfully more often than not. Sometimes, through prayers or sheer willpower, usually due to exhaustion. Thinking about Miguel as she did her 'research', however, his full eyebrows and strong, square jaw line, not to mention the veins in his arms protruding whenever he flexes them... It had given her rise to waves and waves of dormant feelings and sensations.

Anyhow, Thalia isn't sure if she can do half of what she'd seen. Some daunting moves, or rather, positions, require too much flexibility. At 25, her back already hurts way too often, prematurely declaring its allegiance to retirement.

Nevertheless, she's stashed away surprises in her backpack, preparing for what she euphemistically refers to as "mature roles." Miguel will be amazed.

Thalia smirks proudly, deliberately ignoring that her knees are huddled together, involuntary quivering. She smacks them, as though reprimanding them for their disobedience.

"Why'd you do that?" Miguel asks, his eyes fixed on the road.

"Oh, there's a mosquito," she deadpans.

"Let's roll the window down," he suggests.

"Nah. Killed it already."

He cringes. "Then... Use sanitizer?"

To escape his suspicion, Thalia sprays alcohol into her hands, rubs them with exaggerated flair, and gazes out, appreciating the colossal rows of mountains.

The Rockies stand before them like nature's grand masterpiece, the peaks eternally embellished with snow, akin to whipped cream crowning chocolate cupcakes.

"Our first actual stop is going to be Canmore. Their downtown is a little laid back. We can take a stroll, do some shopping, and have our lunch. Then we'll go to Banff. Let's visit Lake Louise first. Moraine Lake might still be closed this time of the year..."

"Works for me," she says, a spark of excitement lighting up her eyes at the prospect of exploring sights she never thought she'd see. Her focus has consistently been on chasing success and praying for a way back to her roots—back to family, back to the life she once knew.

Approaching 10 AM, they pull into downtown Canmore. Miguel, mindful of the end of March chill with temperatures hovering around 5 degree Celsius below, suggests Thalia bundle up.

"I forgot my mittens," she moans as they make their way towards the main street.

"Not a problem," Miguel responds, seizing her left hand and gallantly tucking it into the heat of his jacket. His hand feels like a delicate embrace, smooth and inviting, in stark contrast to Thalia's own, roughened by the emergence of callouses.

They stumble upon an array of local and novelty stores. Miguel, relishing the tourist spirit, decides to splurge on a bag of candies and a collection of fridge magnets.

"I don't need one," Thalia retorts, returning the bison-designed magnet to Miguel.

"No, keep it. A memento. I'll get one for every place. Then we can make some sort of a map of the places we've visited. How's that sound?"

"Sounds... Expensive," she remarks, attention fixed on the bustling sidewalk, a parade of pet lovers and their canine companions.

"What? The magnets?"

"The trips," she replies, still captivated by the charming chaos of dogs.

"We can save up. It'd be nice to go on trips once in a while," he suggests, a hopeful undertone in his voice. "Don't worry about it. My parents are amazing with coupons. Look, they scored us some good hotel deals."

"The coupon really looked sketchy, though. I'm surprised it worked," Thalia mentions, a memory of the dubious vouchers flashing in her mind, resembling something straight out of a phishing site. "Hey, that white dog is really cute. I want to give it some cuddles!"

Miguel follows her line of sight, spotting a Maltese cradled by its owner.

"It is cute," he agrees. "Do you like dogs?"

"I do."

"So, are you a cat or a dog person?"

"Definitely dogs. I'm afraid of cats. I feel like they'll scratch me out of nowhere," she confesses, shuddering at the thought.

He nods. "Would you like one?"

She turns her head, groaning, "Do I look like someone who can afford to raise a dog? I can barely raise myself."

"We'll raise it together," Miguel urges. "Hence, another reason why you should move in with me."

Thalia places a free hand on her hip, sighing, "You bring up marriage and living together so easily like it's nothing."

"And you bring up sleeping together just the same," he counters, mimicking her pose.

She can't help but crack a smile. "Fair enough." Thalia's attention veers away from the cluster of pets and their owners, and they begin to stroll toward the opposite direction.

Miguel asks, "What? You really don't want to?"

"It's a lot of responsibility that I already have and requires money that I am running out of."

Miguel's lips morph into a thin line, a queasy sensation swirling in his stomach. Whenever Thalia mentions the things she's willing to forego for the sake of others, he dies a little.

"Thalia," Miguel calls, squeezing her hand still ensconced in his pocket. She halts, shooting him a sidelong glance.

"What?"

"Why don't you find a different job? Your work permit is going to be extended. You can do something else."

She huffs, "You're firing me?"

"I'm not firing you. I'm saying you should try applying for a more lucrative job. A corporate one. Like what you used to do before."

Quietness blankets them as they arrive at the Policeman Creek Trail, a path that unravels an even more breathtaking view of mountains and rivers. It's a stroll rather than a hike, with the occasional shade of trees and shrubs providing shelter from the sun.

"Thalia... Why aren't you saying anything?"

Thalia pulls her hand away and settles on a weathered bench, its age apparent as it quivers under her weight. Miguel remains standing, his gaze fixed upon her.

Miguel's heart is in the right place, yet he remains blissfully ignorant about the realities someone like her navigates.

"You think I didn't try?" she begins, frustration lingering as she recounts the past year. "I tried, Miguel. I must've sent out hundreds of applications after the coffee shop closed. I thought my credentials would land me a job in some company, even a small one. And I did get invited to interviews. It's not like I got shot down right off the bat."

"Then try again."

"Easy for you to say. Have you ever faced rejection? Ever been denied something you desperately want?"

This question seals his lips. Miguel grapples with the memory, struggling to recall a moment when he didn't get exactly what he desired. Perhaps the closest he can come to complaining is not receiving a car at 18.

He stares at Thalia, and he embraces how he truly desires her. Nevertheless, in a twisted way, he suddenly realizes he has her—because she is in a vulnerable situation he can exploit. He has gained the upper hand by being her boss.

It's making him feel sick.

Thalia's shoulders slump, seeking the bench for support, arms folded protectively around her chest.

"I did this assignment post-interview. It was easy. Using software for quantitative analysis. You probably don't know it... And I nailed it. If skill alone, that job was mine. But there's always someone who's been to a Canadian institution. Or someone with a more relevant experience. My background, everything I worked hard for, didn't get me anywhere close."

She raises her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "Over and over, I wasn't picked. So, I stopped. You see... Miguel. The opportunities available to you aren't available to me. You will inherit a store. I will be your employee. You can pursue gaming, which you enjoy because you have a fallback."

Miguel's knees buckle, and he squats in front of Thalia, their gazes reuniting. His lips tremble as he asks, "Are you mad at me?"

"At you? Why would I be mad at you?"

"Because I seem to always say the wrong things. Isn't that why you didn't like me at first?"

Thalia stretches her arm, fondling his hair kindly. "You mean well, don't you? Like my own misguided knight in shining armor," she murmurs. "And I appreciate it. But, Miguel, I also hate it. I don't want to play the damsel in distress, yet here you are—constantly ready to swoop in, offering me chances. Giving me hope like I'm trapped in a maze, and you're the one handing out breadcrumbs to get me out."

Miguel whispers, "You're also giving me something back. It's not like I'm getting nothing out of this."

Thalia grins. "The money. One day."

"Yes."

"And the kisses."

"Mm. Can't forget those," he replies, cloaking the uneasy feeling that hasn't vanished.

Thalia rises to her feet and pulls Miguel up, who staggers a bit, his legs momentarily betraying him after the prolonged sitting.

"Let's go," she says. "I'm ready for lunch."

Thalia walks away first, and Miguel watches her depart, reflecting on the possibility that Thalia may not say it, may not show it, or maybe she doesn't even know it. But deep down, she might be harboring a profound dislike for everything about him, perhaps even more than that initial disdain she felt when they first met.

Guilt snakes its way through him, a phantom force wrapping its tendrils around his conscience. His airways seem blocked by something massive, and breathing feels like a laborious task.

How on Earth can Thalia ever like him? Maybe, just maybe, she doesn't see him as a potential lover but more like a benefactor—someone she can play like a card in her deck. But then, to claim she had complete agency and choice when he proposed to her is ludicrous.

The power she holds is nearly illusory.

Instead of a benefactor, Miguel is like a warden. A figure unintentionally trapping her, unwittingly squeezing life out of her freedom.

In this context, what right does Miguel have to ask for more, for her to discard the agreement and just accept him for who he is?

******

A/N: It's not something that I've stated explicitly, but there is a power imbalance between the two from the start. The boss-employee dynamic, rich-poor dynamic always have that. Miguel is starting to realize this, and being the dimwit/good guy that he is, he is beginning to feel guilty... How do you think this will affect their relationship?

Thanks so much for tuning in!