A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

When Matilda returned to the studio, the crew comforted her again, urging her not to take things to heart. Then Orson went back to his usual aloof self. He had just settled in front of his desk when the lights flickered out and he dozed off with a clang.

“Talk about a power nap,” Hala remarked with a click of her tongue, “Surviving till 27 is no small feat.”

“Getting old,” Luna stretched languidly, “I mean, Orson’s tall and fair–skinned, could be a heartthrob anywhere else. But it’s weird that he never seems to have a girlfriend. Pushing thirty and still single, why’s that?”

“With his graveyard shift lifestyle? Forget a girlfriend, he’s lucky to be alive,” Yoshi said with a flick of his imaginary tail as he bounced back to his seat. “Ever heard the saying, ‘No girlfriends in the design industry?” Content bel0ngs to Nôvel(D)r/a/ma.Org.

But come evening, a new client arrived that took Matilda by surprise. Luna had begged and pleaded with the company execs to get the WhatsApp number of a big–shot CEO, and after a whole afternoon of pestering, she managed to get him to drop by.

Keen to make amends, Matilda volunteered to give it another shot. With Hala rooting for her in the background, she entered the reception with a fluttering heart. However, the sight of the blond man lounging on the sofa froze her smile.

Just her luck, always running into the last person she wanted to see.

Her smile faltered.

“Hello, Mr. Simpson.”

Adrian lounged on the sofa like he owned the place, legs propped on the coffee table, more like he was in a VIP lounge than a business meeting. His eyes sparkled like jewels when he smiled, utterly captivating.

“Oh, what a coincidence,” he greeted Matilda with an irreverent grin.

Gathering her resolve, Matilda took a deep breath and sat across from him. Adrian’s amusement grew at her stern expression, “Hey, no warm welcome for me?”

“If you’re here to goof off,” Matilda pointed towards the door, “the exit’s that way, no escort needed.”

“Come on, can’t you be a bit more grateful?” Adrian was baffled. He had helped her

10.04

more than once, yet she always greeted him with the same unappreciative

demeanor.

As far as Matilda was concerned, Adrian was in the negatives, and she wasn’t about to change her attitude. Handing over the documents, she said flatly, “I didn’t expect it to be you again.”

“Oh, so there was someone else before me?” Adrian’s face soured at the implication.

“Who was it, Yvan?”

Matilda’s grip on her papers tightened as Adrian straightened up and leaned in closer. His laughter was charmingly disarming, the mixed features of his face now disturbingly alluring, “What, Yvan’s okay, but I’m not?”

Matilda felt immune to the sting of his words. Once, they would have hurt, but now she’d grown numb to such mockery.

With a smile devoid of warmth, she replied, “As long as there’s payment, anyone’s

welcome.”

Adrian’s laugh turned colder, and the two seemed to be locked in a battle of wills. He reached across the table and grasped her slender wrist. To an onlooker, they might have seemed like an intimate couple.

He narrowed his eyes, a look that sent chills down Matilda’s spine. She tried to pull away, but he held firm and said, “Matilda, you should know who I’m here for.”

“Let go,” she hissed, “Act with some dignity in public!”

Adrian, shameless as ever, released her but continued to gaze at Matilda with an intensity that burned. “I’m quite curious about how many masks you wear.”

He found himself fascinated by the push and pull, the forceful way he was penetrating her world, layer by layer.