After that day, Maya and James’s relationship progressed. They started commuting to work together and having dinner with Grace regularly.
With Grace’s deliberate matchmaking, they officially became a couple.
During this time, Camden showed up every single day looking for Maya.
This particular day, it was pouring rain. Maya walked out of the museum–James was away on an urgent business trip and couldn’t pick her up.
She had just opened her umbrella when she felt someone watching her.
In the distance, Camden stood there without an umbrella. Among all the people hurrying past with proper rain gear, his behavior looked bizarre–like some pathetic spectacle.
His gray coat was soaked through, and he looked absolutely wretched.
Maya glanced at him once, then looked away.
Seeing her turn to leave, Camden immediately rushed over, his voice earnest and almost pleading. “Maya, can we just talk? Please?”
Maya didn’t slow down–if anything, she walked faster.
She didn’t see the point in talking. She’d made everything perfectly clear the last time they’d met.
By the time she got home, it was nearly ten o’clock. Maya made herself some ginger tea to warm up.
She walked to the floor–to–ceiling windows and pulled back a corner of the curtain. Camden was standing directly below, positioned where she could see him from her window. The rain had soaked him completely–his hair was plastered to his forehead, his lips pale from the cold.
Her phone lit up with a text from Camden:
[I know you can see me, I’ll wait until you’re ready to see me.]
Reading the message, Maya’s grip tightened on her phone. Camden was exactly the same as always–only thinking about himself, completely disregarding how anyone else felt.
If he wanted to stand in the rain, let him.
Maya closed the curtains, turned on the TV, and cranked the volume loud enough to drown out the sound of rain.
Late that night, Maya woke up. The rain was still falling, harder now.
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She went back to the window and peeked through the curtains. Camden was still there.
This scene should have made her heart soften.
After all, once upon a time, the slightest frown from Camden could make her abandon all her principles.
But now Maya only felt the irony of it all.
All she could think about were the memories of being deceived and treated coldly, lying alone on that operating
table in tears as she made the heartbreaking decision to end her pregnancy.
Compared to what she’d been through, what was Camden experiencing now?
She sent James a photo of Camden standing in the rain. His reply came quickly:
[I’ll have Grace come get you.]
Maya texted back: [Don’t bother. He’ll leave eventually.]
James still worried and stayed on the phone with her, chatting through the entire night.
At six in the morning, the rain stopped.
Maya made breakfast and looked outside again.
Camden was finally gone, leaving only a puddle on the pavement. She felt relieved.
When the doorbell rang, Maya opened the door only to find Camden again, still soaking wet.
His voice was hoarse beyond recognition. “Maya, I just came to give you this.”
Maya saw that Camden was holding a book she’d been wanting–Advanced Porcelain Conservation Methods.
She’d been searching for this rare publication for months and had mentioned it to Camden countless times before.
Maya pressed her lips together and looked up at him.
The man’s eyes were full of eager anticipation, as if he could already picture her moved to tears.
Maya couldn’t help but laugh. She spoke coolly: “Thanks, but I don’t need it. The British Museum has a copy.”
Disappointment flashed in Camden’s eyes, but he pressed on: “I also contacted the deputy director at the V&A. He said he’d give you special viewing privileges…”
This time Maya didn’t let him finish. “Camden, what exactly do you want?”
Camden met her gaze, and after a few seconds of silence, he said: “Maya, give me one more chance.”
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Maya suddenly felt sick to her stomach.
Had he stood there for seven hours just to rehearse this little repentance performance?
“Go home. Stop doing this stuff,” Maya said expressionlessly.
The moment she closed the door, she heard the sound of Camden slumping to the ground.
She thought she might feel sorry for him, but there was only numb calm in her heart.
Over the next two weeks, Camden’s appearances became more frequent. Maya would be in line at a coffee shop and he’d suddenly appear behind her. She’d go to the post office to mail something, and he’d just happen to be there applying for a visa.
Even the restaurants near the museum always seemed to have him eating alone during lunch hours.
Every encounter, Camden would display some kind of change–sometimes bringing her favorite white lilies, sometimes swooping in to help with some minor inconvenience.
His attitude grew more humble while his eyes became more desperate, like a student waiting for test results.
Friday afternoon, Maya was at the coffee shop by the museum when Camden appeared again.
He sat across from her and opened a box from Dean & DeLuca.
“Those macarons you used to love from that place in SoHo. I had them couriered over from New York.”
Maya looked at the delicate pastries. In college, she used to trek all the way downtown just for these. Camden always called her crazy for it.
She couldn’t believe he remembered that detail now.
Her gaze moved from the macarons to Camden’s face.
“Thanks, but people’s tastes change. I prefer the stuff from this little patisserie around the corner now.”
Camden’s expression froze. He moved his lips as if to say something.
But Maya’s phone rang first.
It was James, asking what she wanted for dinner.
‘Anything’s fine, as long as you’re making it.”
Maya smiled unconsciously, her tone and expression more relaxed than Camden had ever seen.
After she hung up, Camden couldn’t help asking: “What do you even see in him?”
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“Everything.”
That single word cut Camden to the core.
“Why?”
“There is no why, Camden. When I love someone, I really love them. When I don’t love someone anymore, I just really don’t.”
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