Mitchelle’s POV:
I followed him. “You said that last month, and the month before that! We’re drowning in debt because of you!”
Ken turned around, he grabbed a vase from the counter and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall, sending shards of porcelain scattering across the floor. I flinched, my breath catching in my throat.
“Don’t push me, Mitchelle. The next time it might just be you that will be flung across the room.” He hissed. “I’m doing everything I can, and I won’t have you standing there, acting like you’re some saint when you’ve done nothing but sit around and criticize.”
For a moment, I couldn’t find my voice. I stared at him, my heart pounding, and I wondered how it had come to this-how did the man I once loved had become a stranger who only knew how to shout and break things. I wanted to scream, to throw something back at him, but I was too exhausted. I had no more fight left in me.
Instead, I turned away, my hands trembling as I grabbed my phone from the kitchen counter. I needed to get away from him. As I walked out of the kitchen, my phone buzzed with a message, and I swiped the screen, feeling my blood turn to ice when I saw the sender’s name.
Natasha!
Fuck! I totally forgot that we exchanged numbers last night.
The message was short: “Our trip to Shanghai got moved up. I’ll be leaving with Noah next week. Thought you’d like to know.”
My fingers tightened around the phone, and I fought the urge to throw it across the room like Ken had done with the vase.
Instead, I turned back to him. “You know what? I’m leaving,” I said. “I need some air before I lose my mind.”
He didn’t look at me, didn’t even respond. He just grabbed a beer from the fridge, popping the tab with a loud hiss. “Fine,” he muttered. “Do whatever you want. It’s not like it makes a difference anymore.”
I walked out, slamming the door behind me.
Noah’s POV:
Stepping out of the shower, the steam still clinging to my skin, I wrapped a towel around my waist.
Then I moved toward the wardrobe. As I reached for the wardrobe handle, my phone buzzed on the nightstand.
Glancing over, I saw the message notification-Natasha’s name glowing on the screen.
My stomach clenched. I hesitated for a moment, glancing at Mirabelle who was still asleep, her hair spread across the pillow.
God, she looked so peaceful.
I unlocked the phone, quickly reading Natasha’s message: “The trip to Shanghai has been moved closer. Mr. Ali is returning from Hong Kong earlier than expected. We’re leaving next week.”
I swallowed hard and turned to look at Mirabelle again, unsure of how she’d handle the news. We’d just had a breakthrough last night. She had finally forgiven me and given me the go-ahead to work with Natasha.
But next week? It felt too soon-like fate was testing us. I wasn’t sure she was ready for it, and neither was I.
Just then, Mirabelle stirred. Her eyes fluttered open, and she squinted at me with a lazy smile. “Morning,” she mumbled, sitting up. Her eyes scanned me, lingering on the towel around my waist. “Already up and about?”
“Yeah,” I replied, forcing a smile. “How was your night?”
“It was good,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “Are you heading to the office already?”
“Yeah, got a bit of an early start,” I said, trying to sound casual. I watched her stretch, and a small part of me regretted not waking her sooner so we could have breakfast together.
“Why didn’t you wake me up earlier?” she asked, a teasing tone in her voice. “I could have gotten ready too.”
I chuckled, stepping closer to the bed. “You just looked too beautiful,” I said softly, “and I didn’t want to stress you out.”
Mirabelle rolled her eyes playfully, got up, and gave me a peck on the cheek before heading to the bathroom. I watched her head for the bathroom.
Once the door clicked shut behind her, I turned back to my wardrobe and quickly pulled out a gray three-piece suit. It took me only a few minutes to get dressed.
As I sat on the edge of the bed to put on my shoes, my thoughts kept returning to Natasha’s message.
My fingers hovered over the phone again before I finally dialed Samuel’s number.
“Morning, Noah,” Samuel’s voice came through, far too cheerful for this hour. “What’s up?”
“Morning, Samuel,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “Change of plans. The trip to Shanghai-it’s been moved up. We’re leaving next week.”
“Next week?” he repeated, sounding surprised. “Alright, I’ll get everything sorted. Flights, hotel, the whole deal. What about Natasha’s arrangements?”
“Get her a ticket too,” I said, a slight edge to my voice. “We’ll all go together.”
“Understood,” Samuel replied. “Anything else?”
“No, just handle it,” I said, ending the call as quickly as I could.
As I set the phone down, the bathroom door creaked open, and I looked up to see Mirabelle stepping out, wrapped in a towel.
Her hair was damp, the water dripping onto her bare shoulders. I watched as she rubbed a hand through her hair, her eyes locking onto me. “What’s going on next week?” She asked. “I heard you on the phone-something about getting ready?”
I hesitated, then forced myself to speak, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. “I got a message from Mr. Ali, the property owner in Shanghai. He’s coming back from Hong Kong earlier than planned. He wants us to meet next week,” I lied smoothly.
The words tasted bitter on my tongue, but I couldn’t tell her the truth-that Natasha was the one who had messaged me. It would only lead to more questions, and even more doubts.
Mirabelle’s expression shifted. Like she didn’t fully buy it, I could tell, but she didn’t press. I got up from the bed, walking over to her.