“Mom?”
It was the voice of a mother who came home only once a week, but Ryan recognized it immediately.
“Hey! Who are you? Why are you at home?”
“Hello? So you’re Ryan?”
A young man’s voice followed behind his mother’s. There was no guilt, only a relaxed demeanor as he greeted Ryan.
The memory of that day led Ryan into nightmares every year.
The woman who, even when caught by her son doing dirty deeds in bed, scolded him for being home.
Harlow lived recklessly like that until she passed away in an accident while heading to a hotel with a man by her side.
Nathan said he truly loved Harlow.
After Harlow’s death, Nathan wandered for a long time. Having witnessed all of that, Ryan resolved never to marry. The wrong encounters and choices had led the entire family to unhappiness.
So, on the anniversary of Harlow’s death, no one came to visit. It seemed they did not want to recall those events.
Since it was a little-known incident, they had no choice but to bring Harlow to the columbarium, unable to tarnish Mobid’s reputation.
However, it was more of a neglect than anything else.
Ryan still did not have the confidence to overcome the wounds.
At first, when Ryan visited Harlow on her death anniversary, it was with the mindset of showing her how well he was adapting and succeeding in a world without her.
But now, it was a question. Why was he so diligently observing the anniversary?
Just as he was finally shaking off the nightmares and heading to the columbarium, Alice suddenly called out to him, saying she knew it was the anniversary and suggested they go together.
She said she should pay her respects too…
It seemed logically sound, so he agreed.
When he brought her along, she rummaged through her bag and pulled something out.
Alice was holding a small object, about the size of Ryan’s palm, tightly in her hand.
Ryan carefully accepted what Alice was holding in her smooth and soft hand.
It was a small bouquet of preserved flowers, harmoniously arranged in beige wrapping with white, light purple, and pink colors.
“They’re called preserved flowers; they treat fresh flowers specially.”
Ryan looked down at Alice, who was explaining the flowers with sparkling eyes.
A small bouquet was prepared to give to Harlow.
“That’s for the vice president.”
The meaning of that statement became clear when he saw Alice’s next action.
Alice carefully took out another bouquet from her bag.
So that’s why she had been clutching her bag so tightly even while sleeping.
Alice had kept the bag close to her chest since leaving home, never letting go of it.
Even in the car, she had placed it neatly on her lap, seemingly worried about the flowers getting damaged.
“This one is for me to give.”
A faint smile gradually spread across Alice’s face. Her round eyes shone beautifully like crescent moons.
It was a historic day when Ryan’s rationality finally snapped.
Am I finally going crazy?
Alice looked beautiful. He wanted to touch her crescent-shaped eyes.
His heart began to pump heavily, and his body was getting hot.
When had it started? When had he become so captivated by those eyes?
He no longer noticed the freckles dotting her cheeks. At some point, he had been fixated on her large, round eyes, not wanting to miss even a moment when they blinked.
Now, he even wanted to touch her eyes.
Unknowingly, his gaze kept drifting toward her.
The days of setting the office glass to transparent had increased.
At work, he would suddenly look straight ahead, habitually searching for what Alice was doing, and at home, he began to perk up his ears, trying to sense if she had come in.
“Am I really going crazy?”
Ryan thought he was finally losing his mind. The unfamiliar shock made him blurt out the thought that had been lingering in his mouth.
Alice, who had been crouching and smiling at him, widened her eyes and stood up.
“I’m not crazy! I bought flowers, not to stick them in my hair!”
Did she think his words were directed at her? Alice placed her hands on her waist and looked at him with a fierce gaze.
“I’ve been so careful to come here to pay my respects…”
Her voice trailed off, and her tightly pursed lips seemed cute, making him want to let the misunderstanding linger a bit longer. He wanted to see how cute she could be and how far his feelings could reach.
Should I test it, he thought.
“Just talking to myself. Am I really going to say I’m crazy about Secretary Alii?”
He decided to give up.
What would it matter to gauge a feeling that had already begun?
