Chapter 10
“You quack, I’m sure my bones are broken!”
Even though Alaric spoke with utter conviction, Marlene could immediately tell he was putting on an act.
Seeing that Marlene was about to leave without looking back, Alaric panicked instantly.
“Ms. Fawcett, don’t go, I’m still a patient, you…”
Marlene turned her head, looking at Alaric who stumbled as he ran up to her. Her gaze dropped to his legs and then moved back to his face. “Dr. Jensen, if I remember correctly, wasn’t it your right leg that was injured?”
At that very moment, as she turned her head, a car sped past Marlene, barely grazing her side.
“Watch out!”
With quick reflexes, Alaric grabbed Marlene’s arm and pulled her out of harm’s way, but at the same time, his left arm was scraped and injured.
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Less than twenty minutes after leaving the hospital, Alaric, found himself back there again. This time, he was wrapped tightly in layers upon layers of plaster. “Ms. Fawcett, you have to take responsibility for me.”
An hour later, Alaric appeared at Marlene’s home.
He was either asking for water or food, and the water was always either too hot or too cold. Marlene’s remaining patience was quickly worn away.
“The bathroom is on the second floor, I’ve already put new toiletries in
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there. There are fruits in the fridge in the kitchen, you can eat if you’re hungry.”
After a busy day, Marlene was exhausted.
“Hey, hey, hey, Ms. Fawcett, don’t go, I still…”
Marlene turned to look at Alaric, sighing almost helplessly. “Alaric, I think I made it very clear last time. There is no possibility between us.
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As an adult, Marlene couldn’t possibly be unaware of Alaric’s feelings for her, but at this moment, she was simply too tired to deal with it.
The joy that had filled Alaric’s eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by a sense of dejection and even awkwardness. “Sorry, I disturbed you.”
Alaric left, and the room instantly felt empty again. For some reason, as Marlene watched Alaric’s departing figure, he looked just like a wounded
puppy.
Had she hurt him?
But that thought only lingered in Marlene’s mind for a moment. After all, wasn’t she also wounded? Five years of effort had left her battered and scarred without her even realizing it.
Meanwhile, in New York.
On Monday, as part of his routine, Kenyon liked to have a cup of coffee at ten in the morning.
Looking at the coffee on his desk, Kenyon took a sip, but after just one taste, he immediately spat it out.
The flavor was wrong, the sweetness was off, the coffee beans were wrong, and the extraction time was off.
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Kenyon couldn’t help but frown. He pressed the phone, and the secretary closest to the door came in. “Who made today’s coffee?”
Seeing her boss’s displeasure, the secretary became nervous and stammered, “Mr. Burt, I made it. Is there something wrong with it?”
Kenyon was extremely particular about his coffee. It had to be made with deeply roasted Jamaican Blue Mountain beans, the ratio of milk foam to coffee had to be four to one, and the sweetness had to be exactly thirty
percent.
It had taken Marlene a long time to figure out all these details and make coffee that satisfied Kenyon, which had in turn spoiled his taste.
“Where’s Marlene?” Marlene had always been the one in charge of his coffee before.
Thinking back to running into Marlene at the elevator not long ago, and recalling everything that had happened these past few days, he wondered if she was angry.
Kenyon thought to himself that after he got married, he would find a chance to explain things to Marlene. If she didn’t want to continue, he would give her a generous compensation, enough to support her for the rest of her life. If she was willing, then they could go on as before, as if nothing had ever happened.
“Forget it. Notify everyone, there will be a meeting this afternoon.”
At the afternoon meeting, Kenyon, sitting at the center, habitually glanced at the seat to his right–Marlene’s seat–which was now empty.
Kenyon felt an inexplicable irritation, to the point that he couldn’t even focus on what the employee was reporting.
“Mr. Burt?”
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“Mr. Burt?”
It wasn’t until the third time that Kenyon snapped out of his daze, realizing he hadn’t heard a single word of the report.
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“Where’s Marlene?” Kenyon finally voiced the question that had been on his mind.
From this morning until now, every message Kenyon had sent to Marlene had gone unanswered, and even her phone was turned off.
“Marlene has already…”
Just then, Kenyon’s phone rang.
“Ken, come quickly.”
Kenyon stood up, frowning slightly. “Tell Marlene to send the meeting report to my office.”
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Lateefa Khanam is a spirited writer who finds freedom in horse riding. She cherishes her mare and the newborn foal, calling them her little happy family.
