Mirabelle’s POV:
I sat at my desk, staring at the stack of paperwork. My eyes felt heavy, and the clock on my computer read 9:12 p. m. I should have been home two hours ago, but my mind was stuck in Shanghai.
More accurately, it was stuck in that moment earlier when Noah cut our conversation short because of Natasha’s sudden arrival. He said he loved me, and I didn’t say it back.
“Focus, Mira,” I muttered, rubbing my temples and forcing myself to glance back at the documents. Numbers, words, data-they swam in front of me, meaningless.
It was no use.
My thoughts kept circling back to Noah’s voice, how it had gone tense and cautious, when he said he had to go.
I was pulled out of my thoughts by the sudden vibration of my phone on the desk. Noah’s name flashed on the screen. My heart skipped a beat. I hesitated, thumb hovering over the answer button, then picked up.
“Hey,” I said, keeping my voice calm, trying not to sound like I’d been obsessing over our earlier call.
“Hey, Mira.” He sounded almost relieved, which only made my stomach knot tighter. “How are you doing?”
I took a deep breath. “I’m… okay. Just a bit busy at work.”
There was a pause on the other end. “It’s after nine currently in New York right? Why are you still at the office?”
I glanced at the clock. “I had a lot of things to go over, so I had no choice. You know how it is.”
“Yeah, but it’s late.” He said, sounding genuinely concerned. “You should be home, resting. The kids must be missing you.”
My throat tightened. “They’re with your grandad so they will be fine.” I said, feeling a sting of guilt. “What about you? How was today?”
Noah’s voice brightened a little. “It went well. I got to look at the land-Mr. Ali’s property is pretty impressive. Now, I’m actually heading out for a business dinner.”
“With Natasha?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light.
“Yeah, we came to the restaurant together.” He admitted, “but a few others are joining us inside.”
I forced a smile he couldn’t see. “Well, that’s good. I’m glad the trip’s being productive.”
There was a slight pause. “Take care of yourself, alright?”
“You too,” I said, a small, tight smile still plastered on my face. Then, before I lost the courage, I added softly, “I love you too.”
Noah’s breath caught. “Mira-” But I ended the call before he could say more.
For a moment, I just sat there, staring at the phone, feeling like I’d finally exhaled after holding my breath all day. It wasn’t until then that I realized how badly I needed to hear him say he loved me this morning, even if the timing had been wrong. Whatever was happening in Shanghai, I had to trust him.
I turned back to my files, ready to lose myself in work, but my focus was lost. The tension of the day had bled out of me, leaving me too tired to keep pretending.
Sighing, I began to gather my things, carefully stacking the papers, switching off my computer, and locking my drawers.
After making sure the office was locked up, I handed the keys to the night security guard and made my way to the parking lot.
It was eerily quiet.
I slipped my keys into the lock, about to open the door, when I heard it-the unmistakable sound of someone dragging their feet.
“Hello?” I called out, turning toward the sound. The dim lights cast long shadows, but as I squinted my eyes, a familiar figure stumbled into view-Ken, swaying on his feet.
He looked drunk.
I rushed over, my heart thudding in my chest. “Ken! What’s wrong? What happened?” I reached for his arm just as he collapsed, his weight almost knocking me off balance.
“Forgive me, Mira.” He mumbled, his head rolling against my shoulder. “I… I love you so much… I made a mistake… I shouldn’t have hurt you. I know better now.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I didn’t know why. I should’ve felt nothing but anger, but there was something about the tone of his voice that tugged at the emotions I thought I’d buried.
For a split second, I remembered the good moments, before everything fell apart.
“Ken, stop it.” I said firmly, though my voice wavered. “You’re drunk. Come on, I’ll take you home.”
I managed to get him into the car, and drive out of the parking lot.
When I reached his house, the door was locked, and there was no sign of Mitchelle.
I debated what to do.
I thought of abandoning him on the front porch but I just couldn’t leave him there like that.
I walked back to the car, staring at his face through the window. He looked so vulnerable, so unlike the man who’d hurt me over and over again.
I had half a mind to leave him there, but something held me back. Maybe it was pity, or maybe it was the thought of what I’d tell myself in the morning if I just abandoned him now. Before I could talk myself out of it, I made a decision.
Taking a deep breath, I drove to a nearby hotel. I left him in the car while I checked in, my face hot with embarrassment as I handed my credit card to the receptionist. “He’s a friend,” I said, my voice tight. “He needs a place to sleep it off.”
The receptionist looked skeptical but didn’t ask questions. I paid for the room, and with the help of a male staff member, I got Ken inside. He was practically dead weight, but we managed to get him onto the bed.
“Thank you,” I told the staff member, who nodded and left, shutting the door behind him.
I turned back to Ken, staring at his face, soft and relaxed while unconscious. A memory flashed in my head-our first argument, years ago.
I was so angry, and he’d come home drunk, making a fool of himself to make me laugh, singing off-key and dancing like an idiot. I remembered laughing until my sides ached.
Suddenly, I found myself chuckling at the memory. Quickly, I covered my mouth, but it was too late-Ken’s eyes fluttered open.