Chapter 3
I couldn't afford a dip in his Favorability, so I prioritized the request.
I simply opened the app and processed a delivery order for him, my movements purely mechanical.
"Sophie, I..." Daniel hesitated.
When the delivery arrived, he looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end, his voice was dry as he muttered, "Never mind."
The living room fell into a long, heavy silence.
It made sense, honestly—our relationship only existed because I had forced the issue.
After all, I was the one who had chased him from the start.
Daniel was the type of man who barely uttered a word outside of a professional setting.
Most of the time, I'd be the one chattering away at his side, filling the silence. "Daniel, the magnolias outside my dorm are in bloom. They're so beautiful! Want to go see them with me?"
"Daniel, my boss chewed me out again today. I'm so frustrated!"
"Daniel, let me tell you about my new coworker..."
"Daniel, are you even listening to me? Why are you icing me out?"
When he was in a good mood, he'd give a faint nod.
But most of the time, he'd just frown and cut me off, saying, "Sophie, you're talking too much. Can you pipe down for a bit?"
Whenever he said that, it always stung. "But isn't that the point of being a couple—sharing the little things?"
"We're adults, Sophie. I need some space," he'd shoot back.
They say the brain tends to block out memories that are too painful to carry.
To be honest, I could no longer pinpoint the exact texture of the pain Daniel's words once caused.
Whatever it was, it definitely wasn't pleasant.
I simply no longer wanted to occupy the same space as him.
It struck me then that when the person who has always sustained the dialogue finally retreats into silence, the relationship doesn't just falter.
And that was exactly where we were.
I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.
"Sophie," Daniel said, hurriedly pushing back his chair and glancing at his watch. "It's only seven; you're leaving already?"
I work a regular nine-to-five.
In the past, I'd spend every minute after breakfast looking for excuses to linger around him.
But now, I was racking my brain for any excuse to get out of there.
"Our team just took on a new project, so things are pretty hectic right now," I said.
"Let me drive you," Daniel offered.
I hadn't even figured out a way to turn him down yet.
The guest room door clicked open, a sharp intrusion on the morning static.
Natalie stood in the threshold, drowned in the crisp cotton of Daniel's white dress shirt, her bare legs a pale, performative display.
She rubbed her eyes and whined at him, "Daniel, you were so rough with me last night, my waist is absolutely killing me.
"Come over here and work out the tension. You owe me a massage. If you don't make it up to me right now, I'm officially ghosting you!"
She pulled the hem of the shirt upward, exposing the curve of her hip without a glance in my direction.
Daniel's eyes snapped to mine, his hand darting out in a reflexive reach as the excuses spilled out. "Sophie, it's not what it looks like. Last night, when I dropped her off, it was just..."
"It's fine," I cut in, executing a clean, practiced pivot to leave his hand grasping at air.
"I know the script, Daniel," I said. "She's like a sister. If your dynamic has shifted, it's really not my place to stay in that lane.
"Go help her with the massage. I'm already behind schedule and can't afford to be late."
I stepped into my shoes and pulled open the front door.
"Sophie, I said I'm driving you," Daniel insisted.
As I crossed the threshold, he clamped a hand around my wrist, anchoring me in place.
I felt no spark of triumph at being the one he chose to hold onto.
I was simply suffocating under the exhausted weight of this entire entanglement.
Just as I was about to wrench my hand free, Natalie let out a sharp cry.
She clutched her temples. "Daniel, everything's spinning. I-I don't feel right."
She stumbled back a few paces before collapsing onto the floor in a heap.
Predictably, Daniel released his grip on me, turned his back, and swept Natalie into his arms, carrying her straight toward the car.
"Sophie, she's sick from the rain last night. I can't leave her like this, so I'm heading to the hospital. I'll pick you up later." He tossed it over his shoulder.
I merely gave a vacant, detached nod.
As the car pulled away, I caught Natalie's eye through the glass. She shot me a sharp, triumphant smirk. Honestly, I just felt a sense of relief.
I made it to the office.
I spent the morning buried in spreadsheets, my fingers flying across the keys without a second thought.
That was when I noticed my phone lighting up incessantly with notifications, so I finally checked the screen.
There were more than twenty messages, a relentless stream from Daniel, detailing every minor update on Natalie's condition.
Daniel: [I've got her at the hospital. It's just a mild fever.]
Daniel: [The doctor just started her IV drip.]
He attached two photos to the thread.
One showed Natalie in the hospital bed, pouting at the lens with the IV line visible in her hand.
The other captured Daniel on a couch in the lounge, separated by a partition wall, buried in his laptop.
The composition was intentional—a clear signal that he was maintaining professional boundaries while playing caretaker.
My chest tightened for a fleeting second.
He always knew exactly how to perform the distance required to make a girlfriend feel secure; why did it take my withdrawal for him to finally put on the act?
I set my phone face down, my eyes vacant.
But my phone kept buzzing with more messages.
A relentless string of bubbles from Daniel filled the lock screen.
Daniel: [Still busy?]
Daniel: [What time are you finishing up? I'm coming to get you.]
Daniel: [Stopped by that old spot near your campus and grabbed the pasta you love. They'll be ready when you are.]