Chapter 4
On the day Emilia started her new job, Nylah walked her to the door. Suddenly, Nylah grabbed her hand and said, "Emilia, if Kasen shows up, you—"
"He won't," Emilia interrupted with a small smile. "He's got Sasha now."
Nylah looked like she wanted to say something, but in the end, she just sighed and let go of Emilia's hand.
Emilia got on the subway to work, leaning against the door, an old song playing in her headphones. As she watched the lights outside blur past, she remembered the last look Kasen gave her. It wasn't guilt or regret. It was just relief.
He'd finally gotten rid of her.
Emilia closed her eyes and turned up the volume, letting the music wash over her, trying to block out everything else.
Her new job was way busier than she'd imagined. Emilia left early and got home late every day, using work to fill up every minute so she wouldn't have to think.
By the time she got back, Nylah was already asleep. Emilia would quietly wash up, then lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, just zoning out.
Sometimes, Nylah would wake up in the middle of the night, head to the kitchen for some water, and notice Emilia's light was still on.
She'd knock, bring in a glass of warm milk, and sit on the edge of the bed, just chatting with her for a bit.
"Emilia," Nylah said out of the blue one night, "have you ever thought about dating again? Maybe starting over with someone else?"
Emilia's grip on her glass of milk tightened. After a long pause, she finally said, "Nylah, I spent seven years loving one person, and then another three trying to love someone else. I'm just exhausted."
Nylah was quiet for a long time before she suddenly asked, "Emilia, do you know where Jonathan is these days?"
Emilia's fingers twitched slightly.
"He's back in the country," Nylah said, her voice light, as if she were talking about something unimportant. "The Thomas Group is setting up operations here, and he's overseeing things himself. Emilia, if you—"
"Nylah," Emilia said, her voice hoarse as she set down her glass of milk. "Nothing ever started between me and him."
So there was nothing to end, and no chance to start over.
Nylah looked at her, her lips parted as if she wanted to say something, but in the end, she stayed silent. She gave Emilia's hand a gentle pat, then stood up and walked out of the room.
Emilia sat alone in the darkness for a long time, then picked up her phone and typed "Jonathan Thomas" into the search bar.
As the page loaded, her heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might leap out of her chest.
The search results popped up. The first one was a business news article from a week ago, with the headline: [Thomas Group CEO Jonathan Fully Returns to Domestic Market, May Oversee Multi-Billion Dollar Acquisition.]
The article came with a photo of Jonathan standing at a signing table, dressed in a deep blue suit, his expression indifferent and his gaze sharp.
He looked even more striking than he had seven years ago.
Emilia stared at the photo for ages, then dropped her phone onto the bed, rolled over, and pressed her face into the pillow.
Her pillow was wet.
She had no idea why she was crying. She thought, 'Is it for Jonathan, for Kasen, or for all those years spent chasing after feelings that never brought her any peace?'
Maybe it was all of them. Maybe none of them.
A month after Emilia started working there, the receptionist suddenly ran over, her face full of excitement. "Emilia, a big shot just walked in!"
Emilia was busy organizing some papers and didn't even look up. "Who is it?"
"The CEO of the Thomas Group!" The receptionist's voice was trembling. "Oh my god, he's so handsome, way hotter than he looks on TV. Emilia, you have to go see him."
Emilia's papers scattered all over the floor.
She crouched down to pick them up, her hands shaking so badly she could barely hold onto anything. The sharp edge of a page sliced her index finger, and a bead of blood appeared—but she didn't even feel it.
"Emilia? Are you alright?" The receptionist knelt beside her to help gather the papers. "You don't look so good. Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm fine," Emilia said, taking a deep breath, gathering the papers, and standing up. "What's he doing here?"
"I think he's here to talk business," the receptionist replied, flipping through the sign-in sheet. "He said he had an appointment with Ms. Houghton, and she's already in her office.
"Emilia, are you going to bring him coffee later? That's your chance to meet your dream guy up close."
Emilia stayed silent.
She picked up her phone and sent Eleanor a message: [Ms. Houghton, do you need me to bring coffee over?]
Eleanor replied almost instantly: [No need, he's got his own.]
Emilia stared at the message, unable to tell if she felt relieved or just even more disappointed.
She returned to her desk, forcing herself to focus on her work and not think about who was sitting in the office next door. But she couldn't help it. Her ears caught every sound coming from the hallway—footsteps, voices, laughter.
She heard Eleanor's hearty laugh, and then a deep, low voice. She couldn't make out the words through the wall, but the timbre of that voice sent chills down her spine, freezing her in place.
It was him.
It really was him.