"It's still early, come in and have a cup of tea before you go." Flora opened the door wider, letting Patrick inside.
At this very moment, the bathroom door swung open.
Matthew, wrapped merely in a simple bathrobe, a steamy aura about him, a towel still in his hand, strode straight outside.
He coincidentally bumped into the pair who had just entered.
His eyes were concealing a secret delight, nonchalantly drying his damp hair while extending a smile to the man standing behind Flora:
"Did you come over for a visit? Make yourself at home!" He then turned to Flora: "My love, you bring a friend home without giving me a heads-up. What an unconventional way to receive guests!" His tone was dripping with ostentation.
Matthew and Patrick, formerly schoolmates, were friends and business partners. They shared a great relationship.
However, since the incident involving the two of them and Flora, the dynamics of their relationship had morphed into a mix of friendship and enmity.
Looking back, they were once comfortable enough to bathe together, swim together countless times.
This wasn't the first time Patrick had seen Matthew in such a state.
The difference was, this was Flora's home.
When Patrick laid eyes on him, one question ran through his mind: "Why is he here?" Patrick stood frozen at the door, snapping back to reality only when Matthew confidently assumed the role of the host.
"Mom, you're back! Where did you go? You had me worried!" Mimi scurried from the bedroom to the living room, her fluffy slippers oddly mismatched with her figure-hugging dress.
"Mom?" Patrick's brows furrowed: "Why is she calling you 'mom'?"
His question took Flora aback.
Before she could respond, Matthew interjected: "Well, she is my wife. So, she should be addressed as 'mom'... Honey, we have a guest, don't just stand there in a daze."
As he spoke, Matthew reached out to pull Flora closer, hugging her shoulder in an overt display of possession.
Flora shot him a dark look: "Quit trying to provoke me!" With that, she marched into the kitchen to prepare some beverages.
Once Flora was out of sight, the two men, sitting face-to-face, unveiled their sharpened claws.
Patrick smirked, teasing his opponent: "Matthew, don't you find your antics repugnant and nauseating? If I were you, I'd be ashamed of my behavior."
Direct confrontation? Matthew was slightly taken aback.
It seemed he had truly angered the Jones' heir.
In response to the mockery of his former friend, Matthew remained nonchalant: "Why should I feel disgusted or embarrassed? I love Flora, and she loves me. I treat my woman well..."
"Enough!" Patrick cut him off: "You claim to treat her well?!"
Seven years ago, a passionate night, and then he left without considering the consequences.
Seven years later, he returns, pretending to be a gentleman.
Over the years, a delicate and weak woman like Flora, raising two children as a single mother, bearing the scornful looks of the world, where was he, the biological father?
"I genuinely can't see how you've treated her well. Let's not talk about the past, let's talk about the present. You see her as naive and easy to manipulate. On one hand, you deceive her into a live-in relationship so the kids can have a father. On the other hand, you marry the heiress of the White family."
No one is blind or foolish.
It's just that Flora chose not to see these things.
That doesn't mean Matthew has genuinely treated well the woman he continuously claims as his own.
Patrick smirked: "Now that you and your wife have cast her out, why can't you just let her go? I despise men like you! Think about it, if she didn't have those two children weighing her down, do you really believe she'd tolerate your recurrent wounds?"
His words struck at the core of Matthew's deepest sorrow.
Indeed, since leaving his mansion, Flora had remained incredibly resilient.
If it weren't for his manipulation using the two children as leverage, he might not have even managed to step foot in this place.
His countenance fell in an instant.
His hand tightened on the armrest of the sofa: "What exactly are you implying?"
"Surely you are the one best positioned to understand my meaning?" Patrick replied with a smile, his eyes though were grave: "I mean... she deserves better than you."
Matthew's gaze hardened, landing squarely on the man who used to be his close confidant.
His brows furrowed, and then he laughed, a laugh laced with mockery and bitterness.
"So who is worthy? You?" His next words were almost a growl: "Patrick, are you still trying to steal my woman after all this time?"
"Matthew, you've forgotten, she's not your woman anymore.
Don't be childish, just because you've intruded into her house, bathed in her bathroom, slept in her bed, it doesn't mean you're her man."
In Patrick's eyes was an unabashed derision, as if quietly asserting that Matthew was being naive.
Huh, was Patrick not afraid that he would retaliate against the Jones family's business? Even a legitimate business of several generations like the Jones family could hardly stand against a man hardened by the world like Matthew.
Or did he think that their past relationship would keep him from taking any drastic action?
"If you think that our past relationship will prevent me from touching the Jones' business, then you're the naive one." He snorted.
Patrick's face didn't show the slightest trace of fear.
He shrugged, spread his arms wide: "You think I'm scared? You think you can intimidate me with your dirty tactics? You're far too self-assured."
Or perhaps, too confident in his own tactics.
"Let's see... what can you do to me? Use your despicable tricks to ruin my business? Or steal my clients?
I don't care!" Patrick smirked: "You can do it, Matthew, I know you have the audacity, and you're not afraid to go there.
But..."
He purposely left the sentence hanging after the word "but."
Seeing the man opposite clenching his fists, restraining his mounting anger, a wicked sense of triumph spread through every cell of Patrick's body.
The atmosphere between the two was palpable.
Like a balloon stretched to its limits, it would burst with the slightest pressure.
Only when Matthew's brow was furrowed so deeply it looked like it could catch a fly did Patrick continue nonchalantly: "I'm not afraid of bankruptcy.
When that happens, I might even thank you for giving me the opportunity to return to tending the garden with Flora.
You might not know this, but I've been taking care of her garden for seven years."
How could Matthew not know?
Before he knew that his former confidant's fiancée was Flora, he'd heard stories about her from others.
The story of the garden was from Patrick's own mouth.
At the mention of "tending the garden." countless images flashed through Matthew's mind.
The man before him and his woman, they could prune branches together, plant flowers together, pick flowers to sell together, they could even share an ice cream after a tiring day of work... He wouldn't speculate about the future, but he knew that in the past, before he came into the picture, they had shared countless moments like that.
Possibly even more intimate ones.
"Patrick!" He roared.
"What's with that attitude? You're so fierce, aren't you afraid she'll hear you?" Patrick, having achieved his goal, smirked: "You better brace yourself.
Big brother, I'm not letting go."
In the business world, Patrick - the heir of the Jones family, was the rising star, the fox with a radiant smile that made many seasoned wolves tread lightly.
Today, finally, Matthew understood the feelings of those old men when facing him.
However, he wasn't afraid.
His eyes were filled with indignation and a combative spirit, yearning for a showdown with the one who was once his close brother.
At that moment, Flora walked back into the living room carrying a tray of orange juice: "I've kept you both waiting for so long.
I forgot where I put the juicer."
Upon hearing her voice, the faces of the two men instantly changed.
The intense confrontation from moments ago seemed to have never existed.
Patrick stood up from his chair, gently smiled, and took the tray from her: "You're still recovering, don't do these things." He picked up one of the three glasses, casually took a sip, with a brilliant smile on his lips: "Your skills are as good as ever."
"You're too kind." Flora chuckled as well.
The familiar interaction of the two stabbed Matthew's eyes, causing pain.
A lump of rage climbed up his throat, he grabbed the glass full of orange juice fiercely, and gulped down more than half of it.
Flora was somewhat surprised: "Matthew, do you like orange juice?" To her memory, Matthew had never done something like that before.
Matthew didn't bother to reply.
The one to break the strange silence in the apartment's living room was Patrick.
He had already finished his orange juice, stretched out a casual hand to ruffle Flora's hair.
"I have an urgent matter to handle, I must leave now.
I'll come to visit you when I have time."
Without waiting for a response from the host, he stood up from the chair, heading straight for the exit.
His hand touching the door handle hesitated, he turned around and smiled at Flora: "Take care of yourself.
If not... those who love you will be heartbroken.
Like me, for example."
Matthew's forehead was lined with blue veins.
He was startled to realize that he had been using his anger to mask his true feelings.
It was... fear.
He was afraid of losing Flora.
People say, one doesn't know what they have until it's gone.
His feelings for Flora, perhaps, were of such sort.
Threatened and aware of his fear of loss.
"You two are very close, aren't you?" Matthew, the renowned Matthew, was resorting to this kind of bitter sarcasm.
"We've known each other since childhood, and he's been very kind to me..."
"And what about me? Didn't you say it was enough if I care about you?" Matthew sat with his arms crossed, let out a nonchalant grunt: "My woman, being cared for by another man, really!"
Flora retorted without restraint: "At least he doesn't have me followed.
Matthew, I'm a normal person, I want the basic human right to freedom.
No one in this world wants to be treated like a criminal."