The phone in Flora's hand suddenly rang, interrupting her conversation with the father and son. She glanced at the screen; it was a call from Layla. Since the night Layla laid out everything to Patrick, they hadn't had the chance to speak again.
"Flora, Patrick is looking for you, almost out of his mind... Sooner or later he will find you... We have to resolve this once and for all... I want to be free... I'll wait for you at the coffee shop we used to frequent at two in the afternoon."
As she finished, she hung up without waiting for Flora's response. Flora frowned slightly. If she heard correctly, Layla had referred to her as "Flora" instead of using the affectionate nickname she usually would.
Flora feared... their friendship might not escape this brewing storm.
A sense of unease welled up within her. It felt like something big was about to happen. She stole a glance at the father and son, engrossed in their game a few feet away. She could only hope that the happiness she'd just attained wouldn't slip away too swiftly.
"Are you Miss Flora? Your friend is waiting for you in private room number three. Please come this way."
As Flora stepped into the familiar coffee shop, she was greeted with a warm welcome and led towards the private room. Upon opening the door, she was greeted by empty beer cans strewn about, and the pungent aroma of alcohol and beer hit her nostrils.
Layla's face was flushed red from the effects of alcohol, her mind wasn't completely lucid, and her body swayed from side to side. Yet her hands continued to pour and knock back drink after drink.
"Oh, my goodness!" Flora couldn't help but exclaim. She quickly snatched the glass from her friend, placing it on the table: "Why are you drinking this much? Stop it!"
This was a coffee shop, they didn't serve alcohol. If Layla was drinking here, she must have brought the alcohol from outside.
Ever since speaking candidly to Patrick, Layla had been in a terrible mood. But Flora never imagined her friend's state could deteriorate to this level, to drown herself in alcohol and forget the world.
With her drink snatched away, Layla resorted to swigging straight from the bottle. The biting liquid poured straight down her throat, causing her to choke and cough. It was a pitiful sight.
"So, you've arrived? Happy to see me like this, aren't you?" Layla sneered: "Satisfied, aren't you? Successfully stole the fiancé of your best friend, you must be thrilled."
"What are you talking about? You're drunk..." Flora sighed deeply, attempting to wrestle the bottle from Layla.
But Layla clung tightly, refusing to let go. As Flora released her hand, she saw Layla looking up, laughing and crying at the same time: "Flora... I treated you like a close sister, why did you betray me? You already have Matthew... why do you want to steal my man?... Wasn't it you who left him seven years ago?"
Drunk, Layla, her mind clouded by alcohol, spilled out all the resentment in her heart. Her silent love for Patrick over the years, her quiet sacrifice, all failed to match Flora's fleeting shadow.
Layla was in despair. The agony, the terror of loss choked her heart, weighing heavily on her mind day after day, growing heavier by the minute, leaving her breathless.
It was only now, under the influence of alcohol, that her feelings erupted.
"Calm down, Layla. I didn't steal Patrick from you. I didn't betray you. I've told you before, Patrick and I are over. Even if he found me, I wouldn't meet him." Flora asserted.
But at this point, no matter what Flora said, Layla wouldn't hear it.
"Not betray me? You solemnly promise to keep him from finding you, to not rekindle the past love, yet you secretly contact him... You are quite the two-faced actress! You must think I'm a fool to trust you!"
Flora frowned: "Why would you say that..."
She knew Layla was drunk, but to hear such hurtful words from her closest friend was still a bitter pill to swallow. She had no intention of interfering in her friend's happiness, so why...
"Patrick has kept our shared number. He was waiting for your call. A few days ago, when Patrick and I had a fight, when I was at my weakest... that number really did receive a call... Don't tell me it wasn't you."
Even if Flora did, Layla wouldn't believe her. Because the only people who knew that shared number, besides Layla, was probably just Flora. Everyone else had switched to Patrick's new number.
Flora took a deep breath, hastily explaining: "I remember now, about this..."
"Don't make excuses!" Not waiting for her to finish, Layla interrupted: "Don't try to deceive me anymore! Rest assured, he never saw your missed call, I've already deleted the call log. Stop clinging to him!"
Layla threw the bottle she was holding onto the floor. The glass shattered into pieces, the liquid inside splattering all over the floor. The strong scent of alcohol filled the air.
Pointing to the scattered shards, Layla gritted her teeth: "From now on, our friendship is like this bottle."
Irreparable.
True to her word, since that day, Layla has rejected all attempts at contact and reconciliation from Flora. She truly regarded her as a non-friend.
"Flora..."
The sudden deep voice from behind startled Flora, causing her to almost drop her phone. Matthew furrowed his brows at her startled expression, pretending to sigh: "Did I scare you?"
"Scare me? I was just daydreaming..." Flora grabbed his hand, using his strength to stand up: "It would take a lot more to scare me."
"You've been daydreaming a lot lately. Don't tell me you're thinking about some other guy..."
Flora pouted: "With you keeping such a tight leash on me, how could I think of anyone else? My best friend has been having trouble with her boyfriend, I've been thinking about her issues."
This answer was not satisfactory to Matthew. His eyebrows knit together: "What does your friend's fight with her boyfriend have to do with you?"
Of course, Flora couldn't possibly tell him that their fight had something to do with her. She sighed, avoiding the question.
"Let's go for a walk! Have you ever taken a stroll with a girl?"
With his aloof demeanor, he probably had never gone for a walk with anyone else, right?
Sure enough, he shook his head: "Never. Why would I want to go for a walk?"
In his past, he had courted various women, where all he did was lavishly finance their shopping sprees, dine together in ostentatious restaurants, or arrange rendezvous in luxurious hotel suites. Fundamentally, he had never partaken in such innocent activities as hand-in-hand strolls or movie dates.
This was his first time someone wished to walk with him. Oddly... it wasn't as difficult to accept as he anticipated. It was primarily due to the softness and warmth of her hand, it had a calming effect on him.
Flora shrugged her shoulders and giggled: "I knew it right away. You're good at everything, there's only one issue, you're a tad too aloof."
Just like his mansion, vast and grand, yet lacking the familial warmth. Whether it was the mansion or its master, both could use a touch more warmth.
"That's why I need you." Matthew chuckled: "You and our kids would bring warmth into my life, wouldn't you?"
"Of course. With me by your side, you'll never have to endure the icy solitude of your past." Flora beamed, intertwining her hand with his.
Matthew's heart felt submerged in a river of warmth. Countless women had passed through his life, seeking either wealth or status. But this naive girl desired to thaw his frozen heart with her warmth.
Giving him a genuine sense of home.
Their hands were tightly interlaced. Matthew felt the warmth seeping from Flora's palm, a slight smile surfacing on his ever-stoic face.
"Come, follow me." He led her by hand, striding forward: "If you wish to date, I'll take you to a special place."
"A special place?"
Before Flora could grasp the implications, she was swept away. Arriving at a posh condominium not too far away, Matthew ushered her into the elevator, punching the highest floor number on the panel.
In the confined intimacy of the elevator, Matthew gently leaned in, planting a kiss on Flora's cheek. Her face flared with heat, as if he could hear her heart pounding beneath her blouse.
With a "ding", the elevator doors slid open. Before them was a locked suite.
Matthew unlocked it with a fingerprint. As the door swung open, the sensor lights flicked on. Flora gasped, involuntarily stepping forward into the suite. One wall was all glass, offering a panoramic view of the city's shimmering night lights.
Unnoticed by Flora, the door quietly closed behind them. It wasn't until she was pulled onto the bed by Matthew that she realized it had been shut all along.
"What are you doing... Matthew..." Her soft hand pressed against Matthew's chest, attempting to push him away.
But her strength was no more than a tickle to him. He smirked, bent down, taking her hand and placing a kiss on it.
"Don't you know what I want to do? You obviously do..."
"No... Don't... People outside... they'll see..." Her body heated up under the provocation from the man above her. But her reason screamed, wrestling with her instincts.
Matthew glanced at the glass wall, smirking devilishly: "That's what makes it exciting!"
In reality, this suite was on the highest floor of the tallest building around, and despite one side being made entirely of glass, privacy was assured. At least for now, nobody could elevate themselves to the height of the glass wall to sneak a peek at the blush-inducing scene inside.
"Please, don't..."
Flora's voice, interspersed with soft, laboured breaths, trembled from her throat, startling even herself.
At this very moment, the man who was propping himself up, maintaining a distance not exceeding ten centimeters from her, suddenly collapsed onto her. His entire weight bearing down upon her frail form.
"You're so heavy... Matthew... What's happening to you?"
Her trembling hands reached out to grip Matthew's broad shoulders, lightly shaking him. However, the man lying heavily atop her seemed to have lost all sensation, not reacting at all.
She managed to roll him off her. His eyes were tightly shut, his pallid face bearing the hallmark of ill health.
"He's fine. He's just passed out due to anemia from physical exhaustion. Don't worry, let him rest a bit and he'll wake up." The doctor continued taking notes in the medical record: "Give him the prescribed medication and follow the treatment plan. I've noted everything you need to be aware of on this piece of paper."