Page 95 of Under Construction

His mother insists it reminds her of her favorite spots in Kyoto.

When they reach their table, Chris pulls out her chair, making her beam as her eyes widen and slowly pan to Dennis, all while she makes impressed, cooing momsy noises she clearly thinks are subtle.

"So polite," she says in Japanese, her stage whisper carrying clear across three tables. "And those dimples!” She waggles her eyebrows in a way that reminds Dennis of Chris, leaving him torn between wanting to laugh, cry, or run into traffic. “Ah, Deni-chan, no wonder you're always rushing to work these days, ne?"

"Mother!" Dennis drops his head into his palms, fingers massaging his temple. "Please!"

"What?" She switches to English. "A mother notices things." She reaches across to pat Chris's hand.

Chris captures it in his, thumbing across her delicate knuckles as he turns bodily toward Dennis, grinning so bright Dennis actually hisses at the glare blinding him.

"Like how you blushed when he almost called you prin—"

“Ma!!”

A waft of savory aroma rolls in alongside the rattle of cutlery.

“Omatase shimashitaaaa, thanks for waiting guys!”

Dennis is saved by steaming bowls of ramen brought over by the server, the only thing stopping him from combusting on the spot.

He thanks her politely, grateful for her timing that just guaranteed her a massive tip, and keeps his eyes fixed on the food—obstinately ignoring Chris’s ear-to-ear grin that suggests he's enjoying Dennis’s discomfort.

Over noodles, Chris describes the project's innovations, enthusiasm pouring from every word. He details Dennis’s battles against conventional thinking, the breakthroughs, how they're reshaping construction standards.

"The bamboo supports were entirely his idea," Chris says, gesturing with his chopsticks. "Everyone said it couldn't work, but he proved them wrong."

Dennis watches them talk, an inexplicable quiet warmth spreading through him at how easily they connect. His mother asks pointed questions about sustainability, drawing laughsfrom Chris with her observations about traditional versus modern techniques.

Eventually, Chris's phone buzzes. His smile dims as he reads the message.

"Site emergency," he explains, standing reluctantly.

He turns to Dennis. "Jason's having a meltdown about the mechanical team."

Then to his mother: "It was an absolute pleasure, Mrs. Kim. I want you to know that your son's vision is changing this city."

"Oh, I know." Her eyes twinkle. "He always was stubborn about wanting to build something real. And from now on, you call me Hana." She winks at Chris while Dennis sighs into his noodles.

They watch him weave through tables, his confident stride drawing more than a few appreciative glances from other diners.

"I like him," she says simply, once he's gone.

"Mom—"

"He looks at you the way I used to look at your father." She sips her tea, a wistful smile playing at her lips. "Before we let our business empires become more important than each other."

"It's not like that."

"No?" She switches to Japanese again, like she always does for important things. "Then why did he spend an hour telling me about every brilliant idea you've had? Every innovation? Every time you've proven someone wrong?"

"He was just being professional."

"Professional doesn't make someone glow like that when they talk about you." She reaches across the table, squeezes his hand. "Don't let history repeat itself. Be brave. Not afraid. Some risks are worth taking."

"I'm not afraid," Dennis mutters in Japanese, stirring a chopstick through puddles of soy sauce.

"Good." Her smile softens. "Because you deserve someone who sees you like that."

---