Chapter 5

"Thaddeus? Thaddeus..." Mr. Curt's voice pulled me out of my daze. "I'm listening. Sorry for troubling you during this time." Mr. Curt sighed. "There's nothing more I can do. If you're looking for work, I can ask around for you." "Thank you. I'll figure something out myself. I appreciate everything you've done." After hanging up the phone, I went to pay the hospital fees and made sure Mom was settled. Then, I started reaching out to colleagues for job leads. Since I needed to care for my mom during the day, I could only consider night shifts. "Do you know any place that's hiring temporary workers for night shifts?" Halston Zimmer, who already knew about my dismissal, said, "I just saw a hotel looking for staff. The pay seems decent—you might want to check it out. They're hosting some event tonight and are short on people." "Alright, send me the address, and I'll head over." Following the information Halston provided, I quickly found the hotel. The banquet was scheduled for the evening, and they were indeed in need of extra staff. Since I had experience with this type of work, I was familiar with the responsibilities. The manager thought I had a suitable appearance, so he registered my details and put me to work immediately. The tasks were relatively simple but tedious. It mostly involved setting up the banquet hall, arranging decorations, and later serving drinks to the guests. Such events usually attracted prominent figures, but I never expected to see Ophelia there. Dressed in a red, fitted, spaghetti-strap dress that accentuated her figure, she stood out in the crowd. Her long black hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her delicate, radiant face exuded charm. In the years since I had last seen her, she had transformed from an innocent, wide-eyed girl into a confident and alluring woman. She seemed to be glowing amidst the crowd. Watching her from across the room, I found myself momentarily lost in thought. If I had stayed back then, how would things have turned out? What kind of ending would we have had? "Waiter, bring me a drink!" The guest's call pulled me out of my thoughts. I quickly picked up the tray of prepared drinks and walked over, but someone accidentally bumped into me, knocking the tray from my hands. In an instant, the entire tray of drinks spilled onto the guest, and the glasses shattered on the floor. The guest immediately started cursing, "What's wrong with you? Can't you watch where you're going?" As he furiously wiped his clothes, he continued to hurl insults. Knowing this person was likely not someone to offend, I hurriedly apologized and tried to explain. He cut me off, shouting, "I don't care what your excuse is! You didn't hold the tray properly, and that's your mistake. You need to pay for this!" Most of the guests at events like this were wealthy and influential, and their clothing often cost a fortune. But there were always a few who liked to act important—like this man. "I'm sorry. I can have your clothes cleaned and sent to your home," I offered. "What if you ruin my clothes? Can you afford to pay for them?" he snapped. I glanced at his outfit and saw it was not something that couldn't be cleaned. "Your brand of clothing is safe for dry cleaning; there won't be any issues." But he ignored my suggestion, insisting that I had ruined his evening. "Look at my shoes! They're dirty now! Clean them immediately, or we're not done here!" Noticing that more and more people were turning to watch the commotion, I had no choice but to kneel down and clean his shoes with my clothes. Seeing me give in, he seemed smug and turned to the people nearby. "See? This is how you deal with these kinds of people. Workers like this are just lowly, you know?" The surrounding laughter rang out, sharp and humiliating. But I knew I'd lose this job if I argued. Swallowing my pride, I continued to carefully wipe his shoes. But the next moment, Ophelia's voice cut through the air behind me. "Mr. Garrison, I'm the host of tonight's banquet. If there's an issue, you can bring it to me. But creating such a scene and making things difficult for others doesn't seem appropriate—especially at my event. If word of this got out, what would people think?" Perhaps out of respect for Ophelia, the man instantly backed down, withdrawing his foot. Looking embarrassed, he muttered, "This waiter wasn't paying attention and spilled drinks all over me." Ophelia stepped closer, and my heart began to race. I was crouched on the floor with my back to her, avoiding her gaze. "Since this happened at my banquet, I'll take responsibility and compensate you. Let's put an end to this here," she said firmly. The man called Mr. Garrison hesitated, clearly flustered. "I can't let you pay for this. I'll just have the clothes cleaned when I get home." After finishing his words, the man turned and left. I stood up from the ground, my back still facing Ophelia. Nervously gripping my clothes, I lowered my voice and said, "Thank you." I was ready to leave quickly, but her voice stopped me. "Stop right there!" I froze mid-step. Did she recognize me? The sound of her high heels grew closer, each step tightening the knot in my chest. My heart pounded nervously. I didn't dare speak and held my breath. "You dropped something. Here." What? Panicking, I patted my pocket and realized my wallet was missing. Inside that wallet was an old photo of us together! If she opened it, she'd see everything. I reached my hand behind me, intending to take it. "Thank you." But my hand stayed in the air as she didn't hand it over immediately. Instead, her voice rang out. "Don't you think you're being a bit rude? I just helped you out, yet you won't even face me properly to say thank you." I wasn't being rude—it was out of fear. We were now worlds apart, and any meeting between us was bound to be awkward and painful. "Apologies. It's my first day on the job, and I'm still adjusting," I said. Ophelia laughed softly. "Adjusting? You managed to face all those other people while serving drinks, yet you can't face me? What is it? Do you think I'm ugly? Too harsh? Or do you think I'm unworthy?" I clenched my fists tightly. Ugly? She could never be. To me, she was the most beautiful. But this wasn't the kind of reunion I had imagined. "Ms. Smith, you've misunderstood. It's not that you're unworthy—it's me who's not. Please return my wallet. Thank you for earlier, but I need to go. I have other duties to attend to. If my supervisor finds out I've been gone too long, they'll dock my pay." I heard her take a deep breath before her voice turned sharp. "Thaddeus, how long are you planning to keep up this act? Do you think I'm still as gullible as I was back then, easy to fool and manipulate? You've gone to such lengths—working here, of all places—to appear in front of me. What do you want? "To use your pitiful state to gain my sympathy? Or do you think I'm still foolish enough to believe in you like before?" Her words left me speechless. Ophelia was now standing right in front of me. I had nowhere to hide. In her hand was my wallet. It was already open, with the old photo pulled out. "You're quite the schemer, aren't you? You kept such an old photo. What is this? A way to tug at my nostalgia?" I never thought of it that way. That photo was my only link to the past, the one thing that got me through countless dark days. It had been with me through my pain and all the shadows... I didn't offer any explanation. "Give me my wallet. I'll leave immediately." "Leave?" she sneered. "You think it's that easy? I told you—you won't get away if I see you again!"