Daryl's lips moved. Nothing came out.

“I asked you a question!” My mother's voice went up a notch.

“It was……Dad gave it to me.”

“And you called the police on my daughter?”

“I didn't——”

“You didn't call them? Then who did, a ghost?”

Daryl shut his mouth for good.

My father stood up.

“Three days. You have three days to get out. The house, the car, the company——all of it comes back. Don't like it? Sue me. I'll be right here.”

Daryl lifted his head, looked at my father, then at me.

His eyes were red.

I didn't look at him.

My mother pulled me into the bedroom and shut the door.

“Good riddance. I never liked him.”

“Why didn't you say so earlier?”

“Would you have listened? Back then you thought he hung the moon. Like I could've stopped you.”

I said nothing.

My mother pulled out her phone and started showing me photos.

“This one is Minnie Chavez's son. Came back from the States, works in finance. And this one is Uncle Li's nephew, started his own company——”

“Mom, I'm barely divorced.”

“Exactly why you need to start planning ahead.”

I stared at her, caught somewhere between laughing and crying.

The front door opened and closed.

Daryl was gone.

I opened the bedroom door. My father was still sitting in the living room.

“He left?” I asked.

“He left.” My father looked at me. “You're sure about this?”

“I'm sure.”

“Then get it done.”

Three days later, Daryl came back to collect his things.

He hired movers. They packed two boxes.

I stood in the doorway and watched.

When everything was loaded, he stood on the sidewalk below and looked up at me.

I didn't go downstairs.

He stood there for a while, then turned and left.

The lawyer sent over the signed agreement while I was eating dinner with my mother.

“He signed?”

“He signed.”

“Good. Clean and quick.”

My mother placed a spare rib on my plate.

“So, how about meeting Minnie's son?”

“Mom——”

“Just a meeting. Nobody's making you marry him.”

I gritted my teeth.

“Fine.”

The next afternoon, I was sitting in a café.

Across from me was a man in glasses and a white dress shirt, speaking in an unhurried, measured tone.

“Ms. Henson, Minnie has told me about you.”

“What did she say?”

“That you're exceptional.”

I gave a polite smile.

He slid a business card across the table.

“I'm a financial analyst at a major investment bank. Salary's around four hundred thousand a year. My parents are both back home, retired, fully covered by insurance and savings. They don't need me to support them.”

I picked up the card and glanced at it.

“If you're that much of a catch, why do you need a blind date?”

He smiled.

“Too busy for dating. And.”

He paused.

“I don't want someone who's too materialistic.”

I set the card down.

“Do you think I'm materialistic?”

“Not at all.”

“Then you're wrong. I'm very materialistic.”

He froze.

I stood up.

“Sorry, I have somewhere to be.”

Outside the café, I texted my mother：Not a match.

She replied instantly：How is he not a match?

I thought for a second, then typed two words：Too pretentious.

After I got in the car, a text came in from an unknown number.

“Cicely, I was wrong. Can we talk?”

Daryl.

I deleted the message and blocked his number.

Halfway home, Gloria Fox called.

“I heard you got divorced?”

“Word travels fast.”

“Drinks tonight? My treat.”

“Sure.”

Ten o'clock. I walked into the bar, and Gloria already had a glass going.

“Come on, sit down.”

I sat. She poured me a drink.

“Daryl Whitney, that piece of trash. I never could stand him.”

“You couldn't stand him either, even back then?”

“Who could? Out there every day playing big shot, then coming home for you to wait on him hand and foot. He's nothing.”

I took a sip.

“Forget it. Let's not talk about him.”

“Right. No more talking. Just drinking.”

Halfway through the bottle, Gloria leaned in close.

“Hey, I want to tell you something.”

“Go ahead.”

“You remember the VP at my company? Grant James?”

“Yeah. What about him?”

“He asked me for your WhatsApp.”

My hand froze mid-pour.

“What does he want my WhatsApp for?”

“What do you think? He likes you.”

“He's seen me?”

“Yeah. Last time you came to the office to find me, he ran into you in the elevator. Came right back and asked me who the gorgeous woman was.”

I thought about it. Couldn't even remember anyone else being in the elevator.

“What does he look like?”

Gloria pulled up a photo and showed me.

Not bad. Big eyes, dimples when he smiled.

“Two years younger than you. Family's in building materials. Not crazy rich, but not hurting either. Good guy. No pretenses.”

“How do you know he's not pretending?”

“I've worked with the man for three years. You think I can't tell?”

I didn't say anything.

Gloria pushed his contact card straight to me.

“Add him or don't. Either way, one more friend never hurts.”

Back home, I showered and lay in bed, the glow of the contact card Gloria had sent still on my screen. I stared at it for a while, then added him.

He accepted instantly.

“Cicely?”

“Mm.”

“I'm Grant.”

“I know.”

“Gloria gave me your WhatsApp. Hope you don't mind.”

“I don't.”

Then his side went quiet for about two minutes.

I was about to put my phone down when another message came through.

“Are you free Saturday? I want to take you out for a meal.”

I thought for a second, then typed：“What time?”

“Whatever works for you.”

“Noon.”

“Done. I'll send you the address.”

Saturday. When I got to the restaurant, Grant was already there.

He stood up. Black jacket, hair a little shorter than in his photo.

“Been waiting long?”

“No, I just got here too.”

He pulled out a chair for me.

Handed me the menu first.

“Go ahead and order. I'll eat anything.”

I picked a few dishes and gave the menu back.

He added a soup and a dessert.

“How'd you know I have a sweet tooth?”

“Gloria told me.”

“What else did she tell you?”

“That you like spicy food, hate cilantro, only drink lattes, and won't touch bitter melon.”

I laughed.

“You two are pretty close, huh.”

“She's my boss. I don't have a choice.”

He didn't talk much over the meal, but there were no lulls either—work, movies, a book he'd been reading.

I asked which book. He said 《One Hundred Years of Solitude》.

“Did you actually understand it?”

“Not really. But Gloria said guys who read it seem cultured.”

My chopsticks paused.

“You're honest, I'll give you that.”

“No point faking it. You'd figure it out sooner or later.”

I looked at him and thought of the JPMorgan analyst from a couple of days ago. Really not the same at all.

After the meal, he walked me to my car.

“Next time's on me,” I said.

“Sure. I'll wait for your message.”

On the way home, Gloria called.

“How'd it go?”

“Not bad.”

“Just not bad?”

“What do you want me to say? That it was amazing?”

Gloria laughed on the other end.

“Grant already spilled. Says you're way better-looking in person than in photos.”

“He's seen my photos?”

“I posted some from a company dinner a while back. He saw them and saved one on the sly.”

I couldn't help laughing.

“Doesn't that count as selling out your friend?”

“I call it helping nature take its course.”

After I hung up, I reached my front door and saw someone crouching by the building entrance.

Daryl.

He stood up and looked at me.

“Cicely.”

I ignored him and walked past.

He grabbed my arm.

“Just let me say a few things.”

I shook his hand off.

“Talk.”

“What are you going to do with the company?”

“None of your business.”

“But I built that from the ground up……”

“You built it? Who put up the startup capital? Who introduced the first client? Whose space was it? Daryl, hand on your heart—tell me that was yours.”

He had nothing to say.

I opened the door. He stayed outside.

“Cicely, I really do know I was wrong.”

“Then go fix it. Don't come to me.”

I shut the door.

The next morning, my father called.

“Daryl's father phoned me.”

“What did he say?”

“That the kids don't know any better, asked if we'd give him another chance.”

“Did you?”

“I said it's not my call. I'd have to ask you.”

I thought about it for a second.

“No.”

“Done.” My father hung up.

I thought that would be the end of it.

That afternoon, Daryl's mother showed up.

Two cartons of milk, a basket of fruit, standing at my door.

“Cicely, I just came to see how you're doing.”

I let her in.

She sat on the couch and took my hands.

“Daryl's still young, he doesn't know better. I've already given him a piece of my mind. Every young couple has their fights, don't they?”

“Ma'am, this wasn't a fight. He called the police on me.”

“That was his secretary acting on her own——”

“You really believe that?”

She froze.

I pulled my hands back.

“Ma'am, the agreement's been signed. The divorce is final. None of this changes anything.”

Her eyes went red.

“Cicely, if only for my sake——”

“Please don't put me in this position.”

After I walked her out, I sat on the couch and just sat there. Not tired in my body. Tired somewhere I couldn't rest away.

I picked up my phone and saw a message from Grant.

“Home safe?”

“Yep.”

“Get some rest. Good night.”

“Good night.”

The next day at work, the front desk told me someone was here to see me.

I walked out. It was Daryl.

He stood in the lobby in a suit, hair combed neatly into place.

“Ms. Henson.”

I looked at him.

“What is it?”

“I'd like to come back and work at the company.”

“You're not an employee here anymore.”

“I know. I want to reapply.”

I almost laughed.

“On what basis?”

“I know every workflow in this company. I have two years of industry experience. I have——”

“Because you're my ex-husband?”

He shut his mouth.

I looked at him and said it word by word.

“Daryl, your résumé wouldn't even make it past the first screening.”

The color drained from his face.

“Cicely, you're really that heartless?”

“This isn't heartless. This is business.”