In the middle of the night, someone knocked on the hotel door.
The bodyguard opened the door and let her come in.
“Is he sleeping?” Penelope asked nervously.
“Not yet.”
Penelope walked in and saw him sitting at the bar. In front of him were whisky and documents.
He looked at her, and the depth and gravity of his eyes immediately brought her into his mood.
He was very depressed.
“I’ll confess,” Penelope bit her lip and walked to him.
Warren put down the glass, pointed to the file on the desktop, and said, “I haven’t read it yet.”
“What is this?” She felt a numbness in her scalp.
“A paternity test, the blood sample is provided by your attending doctor,” he said as he poured half a glass of wine and then drank it.
Penelope closed her eyes, and her shoulders suddenly collapsed.
“Do I need to read it?” he asked, looking up at her with a mocking smile.
“You don’t need to.”
“Then you tell me whether he is or not,” he said, throwing the documents into the trash can by the window. It seemed that he would believe her.
The atmosphere stagnated at that moment. The quality of the air magnified to the heaviest level in that second, keeping her out of breath.
“Yes, he is.”
Her breath was ambiguous, and what she said hung in the air.
His glass fell to the ground and shattered into fragments.
“It was really that night…” His throat felt clogged as if he were burned by spirits.
Penelope nodded and looked at him.
She had finally told the truth…
“Is he really my child?” He took a step forward and stood before her.
“If you don’t like him, you can…” She began to say, but the other half of her sentence couldn’t find its way out.
You can ignore us, you can let us fend for ourselves, or you can leave us out of your world.
In this case, she had thought about the words many times. When the moment came to say them, she found herself unable to speak.
She wasn’t willing to, not at all.
Warren raised his hand to wipe away the tears from her eyes. “Don’t cry.”
Penelope blinked, wanting desperately to stop the tears.
He reached out and took her into his arms, using his generous chest to accommodate all her insecurity and timidity.
“I’m responsible for my woman and my child,” he said, turning his head to kiss her hair.
****
At three in the morning, she opened the bedroom door and looked through the small slit at the man in the living room.
In the dark night, only the cigarette on his fingertips was flashing. In the dreary air, he shook off the ash and threw half of the cigarette into the trash can.
Penelope stepped back and closed the door.
The next morning, he was still standing in front of the mirror, watching her leave, and asked if she had slept well, smilingly.
“Yes, I did. Are you going out?”
“There was a cooperation case that needed to be talked about for about two hours. At noon, I will be back to accompany you for lunch.”
Then, his assistant, with a briefcase, appeared in the doorway, indicating that the time had come.
“I’ll have lunch with Monica. You don’t have to rush back,” Penelope said quickly.
He looked up at her. She stepped forward and said smilingly, “Let’s go downstairs, and I’ll go back.”
“I’ll ask the driver to take you back.”
“You don’t have to. Some walks were beneficial.”
When they got out of the elevator, Warren grabbed her wrist. “Can we have dinner together?”
Penelope paused and nodded with a smile. “Of course.”
How careful he had been to be able to see her frustration and hesitation.
How considerate she had been, taking care of the anxiety and restlessness of him being a father for the first time.
They had been giving each other the biggest space to adapt to their identity. Would such mutual concession and understanding be exchanged for a harmonious and beautiful ending?
“See you then,” she walked out of the hotel and waved.
He nodded, and the windows of the car gradually rose.
The car was leaving. She stood there.
“Are you so in love with him?” A male voice suddenly appeared behind her.
Penelope was scared and turned to look at him. “Why are you always around me?”
Ross shrugged and said, “It’s wonderful to encounter someone you like. When you meet someone you hate, it’s confusing. You don’t want to see me?”
Penelope smiled and said, “For an ex-boyfriend who didn’t meet my only request when we broke up, should I be glad to meet you?”
Ross said helplessly, “Your only requirement was for me to die.”
Penelope nodded, “Well, thank you for remembering.”
“Could we have coffee?” Ross pointed to the rest area next to him.
“I’m tired, and I’m going home,” Penelope refused.
“Let me take you back.”
“No, thanks.”
“Why didn’t your boyfriend take you home? Is he okay with you going home alone?” Ross ignored her refusal and walked behind her.
“It’s very close,” Penelope turned around.
“Don’t provoke me. Even elementary school students are not doing such a thing.”
Ross paused and sighed. “I’m feeling bad, and I want to make up for it.”
Penelope turned around and shook her hair. “I’ll tell you the truth. I had a one-night stand with a man on the evening of breaking up with you, so you don’t need to feel guilty. After all, I enjoyed myself.”
Ross was stunned, staring at her and saying nothing.
“Goodbye,” she waved her hand.
A mentor had asked Monica to work for free. She was due back home at night.
Penelope opened the refrigerator to take out some ingredients.
Penelope made a simple spaghetti with meat sauce and mushroom soup. It tasted pretty good.
After lunch, she was ready to go into the bedroom and lie down for a while. She took a book from the bookshelf to read before going to bed. She opened it and found that it was actually the notes from when she had gone to college.
The things recorded were very diverse. There were physics, chemistry, anthropology, and psychology notes. It was because she had attended classes at random, not picking teachers or subjects.