She felt there was no common ground between her and Patrick, there was no need to continue the conversation.
Their story had long become a thing of the past.
In this way, it was even hard for him to remain a friend.
Patrick didn't call out to keep Flora.
He stood still, watching her retreating figure with a bitter smile, mumbling: "I also want to let go, to forget about the love we once shared.
But... it's too late now."
Leaving the rendezvous with Patrick, Flora gathered her spirits and met up with her best friend Morela.
"Is there something bothering you?" Morela frowned as soon as she saw her friend.
Flora shook her head: "No... nothing..."
"Don't hide it from me.
Let me find a mirror for you to see your own face.
You can't even manage a proper smile, and yet you say there's nothing wrong." Morela muttered: "If there's a problem, just tell me."
Flora sighed deeply.
It seemed she was terrible at concealing her emotions, anyone could read her at a glance.
"Morela, did you know that Patrick and Layla broke up?"
Morela didn't seem shocked at all to hear about Patrick and Layla's break up.
She casually shrugged: "Isn't that expected? If I were Patrick, I would have dumped her too.
She's selfish, greedy, deceitful, and not deserving of love!"
"You... think so?" Flora was taken aback by her best friend's reaction.
Morela paused momentarily, leaning in closer to Flora and flashing a cryptic smile.
"Flora... Seeing you and him alone in your worlds, maybe... you should get back together. After all, isn't there an old saying 'Old love will not rust'?"
Flora's cheeks flushed bright red: "What are you talking about? He and I have long since ended things. Besides, I have someone new... Matthew... he's been treating me and the kids quite well."
"Well, that's all nonsense!" Morela coldly snorted with no hint of respect: "Matthew is a man who wants his cake and eat it too, always seeking greener pastures. Just the other day, I saw him trying on wedding dresses with that Miss White. If he truly loved you, he would never deceive you like this."
Trying on wedding dresses? Flora lowered her head, concealing the brief flash of pain that surfaced on her beautiful face. In the past few days, she thought she had stabilized her relationship with Matthew. She was caught off guard to discover he had been secretly trying on wedding dresses with Selena.
Morela patted her best friend's shoulder and continued: "Flora, that man doesn't truly belong to you, nor does he have you in his heart. Don't be foolish. The happiest a woman can be is when she's with a man who loves her wholeheartedly. One man broke off his engagement for you, another man keeps you by his side while preparing to marry another woman, you're not a fool, you know which to choose."
And yet, this choice would cause her so much pain. Flora lowered her head. A hot tear slipped down her lashes and landed on the table. The bitter aroma of coffee lingered in the air, bitter to the core of her heart.
"Cry if you want to." Morela stretched out her hand, gently holding her friend's hand. Tears began to fall like rain. Flora broke into a sob, releasing all the pain and humiliation that had accumulated over time.
That night, she stayed over at Morela's house. She didn't return to the mansion until the next morning. To her surprise, she met an unexpected guest as soon as she got home. No, not a guest.
"Aunt Laura, good morning." Flora picked up her handbag and started heading upstairs, only to be pulled back by Aunt Laura. She frowned slightly: "What's the matter, Aunt?"
Aunt Laura stuttered: "Nothing... No... something... the thing is..." but couldn't finish her sentence.
Just then, a woman with a protruding belly casually descended the mansion's grand staircase. She was cooing sweetly into her phone: "I miss you... When are you coming over? Don't keep me waiting too long... It's been so long since you've touched me... I hate it..."
Upon seeing Flora, she blew a loud kiss into her phone, then hung up. Looking down from her high perch, she greeted: "Thought someone was making noise so early in the morning, turns out it's you?"
"Selena, why are you here?" Flora frowned, her tone decidedly unfriendly.
Selena casually stroked her swelling belly beneath her sheer negligee, and chuckled: "This is my husband's house, where else would I be? Oh dear, I forgot to tell you, you don't need to go upstairs anymore, I've had your things moved to the guest room. From now on, the master bedroom is mine, don't go up there, I don't like intruders invading my private space."
Before she could finish, a group of people busily carried a pile of stuff from outside. Fresh flowers, velvet curtains, a wedding dress.
"The flowers for the wedding ceremony have arrived, should we start decorating now? If we don't start, we won't be able to finish in time." One of them asked Selena while holding a bouquet of fresh flowers.
She nodded: "Start decorating. Remember to replace all the items as I instructed, I don't like to use things others have touched. Also... bring the wedding dress to my room, I want to try it on again."
In the bustle of the crowd going to and fro, preparations were in full swing for the wedding of Selena and Matthew.
No one paid any heed to Flora, standing as though rooted to the spot in a corner of the mansion.
The vivacious scene stabbed painfully at her eyes.
At last, the mansion was blanketed in fresh flowers and laughter, Matthew had become a groom, hand in hand with a woman stepping into the marriage sanctuary.
Regrettably, that woman wasn't Flora.
"It seems my presence here serves no purpose. I no longer have a place here." Flora mused to herself, her self-deprecating laugh echoing in the empty corner before she departed the mansion for the flower garden in search of her mother.
"Mother, there's something... I need to tell you." She hesitated, unsure of how to broach the topic.
Her mother paused in her actions, tenderly caressing Flora's hair: "It's time for you to leave, isn't it? No need to explain, I understand... I've known from the beginning, being together is about fate. But how long can such a bond last against the pressures of status, position, and the fickleness of the human heart? Even if Matthew is the father of your children, even if he loves you more than anything else, it doesn't justify anything."
Matthew's status, his position that gifted him a head start over others, that paved his path smoother than others, also became his shackles.
He couldn't marry an ordinary woman.
Thus, from the start, the romance between them was destined to end in parting.
A single tear streaked down Flora's cheek, her voice choked with emotion: "Mother... I'm sorry... I thought he would... I must have overestimated myself..."
"My silly girl. If you want to cry, then cry. You still have me." Her mother enveloped her in a comforting hug: "Don't worry, we can start over."
Leaving the flower garden, Flora was uncertain of her next destination.
For the second time in her life, she felt without a place to belong.
"Flora, do you want another drink?" Patrick asked, tapping his wine glass lightly against Flora's.
Both were noticeably intoxicated.
Flora's head pounded like a hammer was striking at it.
She could hardly recall why she had come here to drink with Patrick, she merely drowned her sorrows in gulp after gulp of wine.
Suddenly, Patrick chuckled: "You really don't consider giving us a second chance, huh? Matthew... I don't know if he loved you or not. But... he's chosen to marry someone else, while my feelings for you are genuine. I want to marry you. Say yes!"
"That's not possible, Patrick. Don't say things like that, don't pity me." Flora returned his laughter with her own hollow chuckle.
She raised her wine glass to her lips, downing it in one go before pouring herself another: "I don't want to be in a relationship for now, it's too exhausting! I've decided to start a new life."
She realized she was still young, very young. She could start life anew.
Living for herself, instead of living for others.
Seeing her determination, Patrick did not insist.
He understood her message. For now, he had no chance, but she had not outright rejected him.
In that case, he could stay quietly by her side, five years, even ten, there would be a day when he would have his chance.
"Come on, Patrick, we came to the bar to drown our sorrows. I can hold my liquor, let's drink some more."
Typically, those who claim they don't get drunk easily are the ones who do.
After a couple more drinks, Flora's consciousness began to blur.
She collapsed on the table, her face a flushed red, murmuring incomprehensible words.
Flora was drunk.
Patrick softly brushed her hair, a gentle smile gracing his lips, and then he coaxed her to her feet, steadying her as they swayed out of the bar.
Night had set in; the high-pressure lamps casting a faint, yellow glow onto the deserted streets.
The empty silence of the streets contrasted heavily with the clamor inside the bar, sobering Patrick up a little from his intoxicated state.
He had been sitting with Flora, indulging in more than a few drinks, but his alcohol tolerance was excellent, preventing him from getting too drunk.
Now, his primary concern was to get this tipsy enchantress back home to rest.
"Oh...Patrick...let's have another drink...where's the alcohol...let me have some...I want to drink..." Flora's breath was hot and heavy with the smell of alcohol, swaying from side to side in a state of inebriation, clamoring incessantly for more to drink.
Patrick clicked his tongue, mildly exasperated: "You clearly can't handle your alcohol, yet you insist on drinking so much... really..."
He might grumble, but he gently placed the drunken figure on the bed, wetting a towel to wipe her sweat-laden face and hands.
The woman on the bed flushed beautifully, her features as stunning as they had been seven years ago.
Seven years had not left any visible marks on her face, other than to deepen her allure.
"Um...It's so hot..." Flora twisted uncomfortably, a soft moan escaping her plump lips.
Watching the woman he cherished, defenseless on the bed, Patrick subconsciously swallowed.
It had been a long time since they had been this close.
As if possessed, he leaned over the bed, bending closer.
When the alcohol-laden, hot breath of Flora hit his face, with them being just inches apart, he suddenly recoiled, stepping back.
Patrick was not a man to take advantage of someone in a vulnerable state.
At least, not with Flora.
The next morning, Flora was rudely awakened by the persistent ringing of her phone.
Her unfamiliar surroundings left her slightly startled.
Her head pounded like a hammer, her body ached, remnants of last night's drunken escapade.
But she quickly forgot about these sensations as her phone continued to ring.
"Hello, Morela?"
Morela's familiar voice resonated from the other end: "You're still answering calls? Where did you disappear to last night? I've been calling you dozens of times and you didn't answer..."
"I...got drunk..." Flora pressed her hand to her forehead.
She wasn't quite sure where she was, so how could she possibly answer Morela?
The only thing she knew was that she'd been drinking with Patrick, so she was likely at some hotel, or perhaps his place.