Chapter 9

I didn't expect such a misunderstanding to occur either. When I noticed how aggrieved Cindy looked, I quickly said, "You're looking for Ms. Lane, Mr. Ziegler." John was smart enough to hand the coffee to Cindy immediately. Cindy glanced at the cup before saying softly, "I don't drink black coffee." Black coffee was Bruce's favorite. I had it often in the past to develop a habit of drinking it. John slapped his forehead and said, "Oh dear, I hope you don't mind my terrible memory, Ms. Lane." Cindy didn't mind at all. She returned to her office and didn't come out for the rest of the afternoon. The work day soon came to an end. As everyone else left, only Cindy and I remained in the office. I continued doing my job as usual, until I heard the doorbell ring. I looked up, only to see Bruce standing outside. He seemed to have just finished work. I spotted the dried scab on his lip the instant our eyes met and felt irritated. "Where's Cindy?" He asked, as if the kiss between us last night had never happened. What a clean cut. I calmly looked at him. "She's still here." Bruce then headed straight for her office without another word. Cindy's candy-sweet voice rang out soon after, laced with grievance. "What are you doing here all of a sudden, Bruce?" "John said you didn't look very well. Are you feeling ill?" Cindy's voice grew more quiet. "No… Did you hurry over here because you were worried about me?" I didn't hear Bruce's response, but whatever it was made her tone brighten up immediately. What a harmonious atmosphere. But Cindy then noticed something odd about Bruce's lip. "What happened to your mouth, Bruce?" My grip around the mouse tensed briefly as I listened to Bruce's calm answer, "I accidentally bit my lip, is all." Cindy didn't question it, obedient as she was. Both she and Bruce left the office together. Cindy went to the washroom while Bruce patiently waited for her. When he saw I was still working on my computer, he came over and asked, to my surprise, "How's progress?" "Decent." "You don't need to rush it. We're not robots." Bruce eyed the desk on my calendar when he said this, where my work schedule was clearly written. I continued my coding in silence, though for some reason, I felt like Bruce still had more to say. When the washroom door opened, Bruce quickly whispered, "Don't tell Cindy what happened last night." My heart dropped. So this was the point Bruce wanted to make. It seems like he hadn't forgotten. He just wanted me to know it was a mistake. Though I had expected this, it still hurt to hear it from him. I composed myself and met his cold gaze with a smile. "What exactly do you mean, Mr. Harold?" Shock flitted across his eyes for a moment. He probably didn't expect that response from me. Cindy walked over just then. When she saw that we were conversing, she looked down and stood silently to the side. "Don't worry, Mr. Harold," I continued, not wanting to start any fires. "The work progress will remain unaffected." Only then did Cindy's expression lighten up. After Bruce and Cindy left, I continued working for some time before leaving. I received a call from Caroline just when I arrived at the apartment. "Samuel Hopkins really is a tough nut to crack. He still refuses to put his ego aside even when I offered such a high salary," Caroline complained. She was talking about the marketing manager she intended to hire to help manage our game's advertisements. I said half-jokingly, "If money fails, you could always try seducing him." Caroline scoffed. "Though honestly, he really is my type." Was she working or looking for someone to date? The investors could not know about this. Caroline giggled over the phone before asking, "What about you? You must've suffered a lot these past few days without me around, huh?" I said calmly, "It's whatever. I'll even start taking extra care of his girlfriend if Bruce invests another five million into the project." After all, what was more reliable than money? I then prepared to hang up. When I looked up, I spotted Bruce and Cindy standing a distance away. What a coincidence. Cindy blinked in surprise and asked, "Do you live here too, Nance?" Bruce and Cindy had not been too far away from me earlier, so I wasn't sure if they'd overheard my conversation with Caroline. Guilt seeped through my chest amidst the awkwardness. I was afraid Bruce would see through me. After all, what investor wouldn't be mindful about their spending? I acted calm and replied with, "I moved in months ago." "Me too," Cindy replied delightfully. "But I don't see you around here often, Nance." "My day-to-day schedules aren't fixed." It was normal for software programmers like me to work overtime. Plus, I had an erratic sleep pattern, so I occasionally went out or returned home at odd hours. It truly was a coincidence to bump into one another like this. The three of us then took a ride in the elevator together. Cindy and I were only a floor apart. Her expression stiffened when she saw which floor button I pressed. If I hadn't moved in earlier than she did, she might've thought I was up to something. That's what her expression was telling me. Who else could she blame but Bruce for not being considerate enough? I'd already warned him. Cindy scrutinized me from head to toe before her gaze finally stopped at my arm. "Oh, wow! That's Leviadan's latest handbag, Nance." Cindy looked at me in admiration. "How did you manage to buy it? It's not even sold in local stores yet." Cindy was asking about the handbag Douglas had gifted me. I'd only thought the bag was of decent quality and feel when I received it. I didn't know it was from whatever brand Cindy was talking about. But based on Cindy's tone, it sure sounded like a pretty famous brand. "It was a gift from a friend," I told her the truth. Cindy blinked innocently before teasing, "Your friend is pretty capable, Nance. This bag is a limited edition design, with only 100 of them available in the world. It has a high collectible value." Now, I was at a loss for words. I didn't know this bag was a limited edition design. Bruce snorted just then. "It's just a bag. Do you like it?" I heard Bruce ask Cindy. "No." Cindy looked away and explained, "I just think Nance has good taste." When the elevator doors slid open, I nodded goodbye and stepped out. I vaguely heard Bruce respond to Cindy with, "I don't think you understand what good taste is like then." He was right. Not only was my taste in handbags poor, but my taste in men was just as terrible. I pulled out my phone to search for the brand Cindy had mentioned earlier. Looking up the price of this handbag, I was met with a shocking number. This small, demure brand had listed prices of up to five figures. I suddenly felt like I was degrading the bag by bringing it with me while riding the subway. I felt upset and searched for Douglas' contact, wanting to say something. But in the end, I still wasn't sure what was appropriate to say. Just when I was about to put my phone away, I received a friend request. My heart lurched when I clicked on the notification. The user's profile photo was of a sunset. Bruce had taken this photo at Nicox University's man-made lake. It was the day of our fourth anniversary. We'd been sitting on a patch of grass away from the main crowd, enjoying the sunlight and comfortable breeze. He'd been reading a book, and I gazed at him in turn. The distance between us was neither close nor far, and it stayed that way up until the sun began to set. I had been dejectedly putting my books away when my right hand accidentally brushed Bruce's. I was about to pull away when he suddenly held onto it. That was the first time Bruce held my hand on his own volition. He later took this exact photo before the sun fully set. Who knew this deleted photo would reappear in my friend requests tab two years later?