Chapter 3
They had no idea I was dead serious.
I wasn't being petty, and I wasn't trying to act tough.
When disappointment piled up, leaving became the only way out.
And Antony, with that engagement party that had the whole city watching, personally handed me the last, and most devastating disappointment.
Life had to go on.
I quit the easy job I'd taken just to fit around Antony's work location.
I started sending out resumes and going to interviews.
It wasn't easy at first. I'd been out of the workforce for so long, and a lot of my skills were rusty.
Arthur wanted me to join his company, but I turned him down.
I wanted to stand on my own two feet and get back up.
During that time, I'd spend my days at the library, brushing up on my skills, and evenings at home, studying interview techniques.
I met Ronald Pullman at the library.
He always claimed the same spot by the window, with a cup of coffee and a pile of thick architectural blueprints I couldn't make sense of.
He was quiet, always giving off a calm, steady vibe.
At first, we didn't say a word to each other, and just silently became table-mates.
One day, my blood sugar dropped, and on my way to get some water, my vision suddenly went dark. I nearly collapsed.
Ronald steadied me before I could hit the ground.
His hand was broad and warm, and even through the fabric of my sleeve, I could feel a reassuring strength.
"Are you okay?" Ronald's voice was deep, tinged with concern.
I shook my head, a little embarrassed. "I'm fine, it's just something that happens sometimes."
He didn't press for details; he simply guided me back to my seat and offered me a piece of chocolate.
"Here, some sugar will make you feel better," Ronald said.
"Thanks," I said, feeling a bit awkward.
After that day, an invisible barrier between us seemed to disappear.
Whenever I showed up, he'd already saved me a seat.
When I got tired from studying, he'd slide over a hot drink.
We started chatting, just small talk here and there.
I learned he was an architect, working on a big international project.
He found out I was job hunting, struggling through interviews.
He never asked about my past, and he never commented on the choices I made.
He was just someone who quietly kept me company, always there to listen.
After failing an interview, I was feeling really low and ended up staying at the library late.
Ronald packed up his stuff, came over to me, and said in a low voice, "Want to take a walk?"
We wandered along the riverside for quite a while.
The evening breeze made everything feel lighter, blowing away the heaviness in my heart.
"The interviewer said I lack that 'killer instinct,'" I said with a self-deprecating smile. "Guess I've been living too comfortably for too long."
Ronald paused for a moment, then said, "That 'killer instinct' isn't the only thing that matters. Being gentle yet unwavering is a powerful strength, too."
I was taken aback, and looked up at him.
Under the streetlights, his profile was sharp, his eyes gentle and sincere.
In that moment, a hard corner of my heart suddenly softened.
It was the first time anyone ever told me that gentleness could be powerful, too.
Unlike Antony, who always called me weak and said I never stood up for myself.
Eventually, I finally landed my ideal job as a project assistant at a curatorial company.
It was hectic and tiring, but honestly, I felt really fulfilled.
Ronald and I kept seeing each other.
We'd go out for meals, watch movies just like any other friends.
Then came my birthday.
My coworkers threw me a cozy little birthday party.
By the time we wrapped things up, it was pretty late.
As I stepped out of the building, I spotted Ronald waiting for me downstairs.
He was holding a small pot of purple balloon flowers, their blossoms glowing softly in the night, making the whole scene feel extra tender.
"Happy birthday," Ronald said.
"How did you know it was my birthday?" I asked, surprised.
"I overheard your coworker mention it at dinner last time," Ronald said, offering me the flowers. "I didn't know what kind you liked, but these just felt right for you."
I took the pot, and as my fingertips brushed against his, I felt a gentle coolness.
"Why balloon flowers?" I asked.
"The meaning of balloon flowers is eternal love, and hopeless love," Ronald said, meeting my gaze with sincerity. "But I want you to have the first one, eternal love."
My heart skipped a beat.
Ronald continued, "Irene, I'm not trying to rush in or take advantage of your situation. I just want you to know you're a wonderful person, and you deserve to be cherished. I'm willing to give you time, and I'll wait for you."
I looked into his earnest eyes, and suddenly, tears stung my eyes.
That night, I sat there hugging that pot of balloon flowers, just thinking for ages.
I thought about all the pricey gifts Antony had given me over the years: roses, jewelry, luxury handbags, but honestly, none of them ever meant as much to me as this little pot of balloon flowers right in front of me.