Around noon at work, I was meeting a realtor to look at apartments when I ran into Kieran and Ivy in the elevator.
Ivy’s hair was a mess, and Kieran was putting it up in a ponytail for her.
The moment she saw me, Ivy put her hands on her hips and pouted:
“Chloe! Perfect timing. Look what Kieran’s doing to me. He’s always pulling my hair like some little boy who never grew up. So annoying!”
Before I could respond, Kieran pinched the tip of her nose, flirting shamelessly:
“Little fibber, you know what happens to liars, right? Your nose grows.”
After making Ivy blush, he finally graced me with his attention:
“Chloe, since we ran into each other, want to grab lunch?”
Same building, different companies, five years working here–Kieran had never once asked me to lunch during
work hours.
But Ivy posted about every single meal they shared on her Instagram.
Recalling this, I smiled: “You two go ahead. I’ve got stuff to do.”
Kieran looked pissed that I’d turned him down, but before he could say anything, the elevator lurched to a stop and
went dark.
[ turned on my phone’s flashlight to see Kieran holding Ivy, whispering comfort in her ear.
Soon, the elevator started working again.
When we reached the ground floor, Kieran offered to give me a ride.
But before I could answer, Ivy suddenly collapsed.
Without a second thought, he shoved past me, scooped Ivy up, and rushed to the hospital.
silently picked up my cracked phone and called an Uber to go apartment hunting.
That evening, Kieran personally delivered dessert to my desk.
Half an hour earlier, I’d seen Ivy’s latest post:
[Loving someone is like tending to a flower. But there’s way too much! I can’t finish it all!]
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Chapter 2
The photo showed a table covered in French pastries.
I thanked him but didn’t open the box.
Kieran looked confused. “Chloe, why are you being so… polite with me?”
Instead of answering directly, I said: “If there’s nothing else, I need to go print some documents.”
When I came back with my resignation letter, Kieran was gone. He’d left a sticky note telling me to come find him upstairs when I was done.
I tossed the note and the dessert in the trash, then walked into my boss’s office to quit.
My boss tried to talk me out of it, but when he saw I was determined, he finally accepted my resignation.
According to company policy, I just had to finish out the week.
That night at ten, Kieran called while I was at a work dinner.
One of my male colleagues accidentally answered.
So when I got on the line, Kieran’s voice was terrifyingly cold:
“Chloe, where the hell are you this late?”
“Out.”
“Send me your location. I’m coming to get you now.”
With that, he hung up immediately.
I sent the location and stayed until the restaurant closed, Kieran never showed.
I checked Ivy’s Instagram: surprise~ she’d posted about being sick and getting an IV.
I took a cab home alone, showered, and went to bed.
Around 3 AM, Kieran shook me awake roughly. He looked like he’d been through hell.
His voice was ice–cold: “Chloe, I’m hungry. Make me some cheese ravioli.”
But he hated cheese and never ate ravioli.
I knew who really wanted it–Ivy.
I was about to pull away from his grip when I felt the scar on the back of his hand.
Years ago, when our school auditorium caught fire, I would’ve been dead if not for Kieran. Trading a bowl of cheese
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Chapter 2
ravioli for my life? I was getting the better deal.
Seeing me get dressed without a word, ready to go out, Kieran grabbed my arm. For once, his voice held a hint of
uncertainty:
“Maybe… wait till morning. It’s not that urgent…”
I cut him off and asked softly: “Does she want anything else besides the ravioli?”
After a moment of silence, Kieran let go of my hand and said:
“No.”
As dawn broke, he stood at the door with a thermos of food, saying:
“Chloe, I have to fly overseas next week. This Ŝaturday I’ll make time to have dinner with your parents and discuss our wedding…”
Before he could finish, I cut him off:
“Don’t bother.”
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