I was startled when my alarm clock went off. I got up, stretched my arms, and turned it off. It was only seven in the morning. I went to the bathroom, took a shower, and continued my usual morning routine.
I decided to call my mom and the twins at 9 AM since they were probably still asleep. For now, I just sent a message to the twins’ nannies.
Before leaving my room, I made sure to put on my fake teeth and apply the mole near my eye.
“What time did Arlo get home last night? Who could have been with him?” I mumbled to myself, my mind swirling with questions. Deep down, I knew the answer—it was probably his fiancée, Valerie.
When I reached the kitchen door, I heard some noise inside. There shouldn’t be anyone else in the apartment except me and Arlo.
I carefully turned the doorknob and opened the door. My eyes widened when I saw Arlo’s broad back, clad only in blue boxers. My lips parted in surprise as I secretly admired him. Then he turned slightly, catching me off guard.
I froze in place as he held a cup of coffee. His body hadn’t changed—it was still as toned as ever. My gaze dropped lower, and I gulped as I noticed how his boxers accentuated his figure.
It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that I snapped out of my daze.
“Who are you?” he asked, clearly confused. Did he forget me, or was his mind still half-asleep?
“Did you forget me, Sir? It’s a pity that someone as handsome as you could be so forgetful. I’m June, Rita’s niece,” I said.
“Ah, okay. Sorry, I have a headache,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Sir Arlo, why are you dressed like that? Aren’t you embarrassed someone might see you in just your boxers?” I teased. His brows furrowed, clearly irritated by my comment.
“Lady, mind your own business. I’m the boss, and I can do whatever I want!” he snapped.
I decided to stay quiet, not wanting to worsen his headache and risk getting kicked out. I remembered what Philip had told me—that Arlo was quick-tempered and sometimes lashed out due to strange dreams.
I watched as he placed his coffee cup in the sink, his mood shifting abruptly. His expression darkened, signaling a red flag.
“Make me another cup of coffee,” he ordered.
“Yes, Sir,” I replied.
As he walked past me, my heart pounded loudly. It felt like it was going to leap out of my chest. I stood there, frozen, licking my lips and closing my eyes to calm myself. I placed a hand on my chest, taking deep breaths to steady my heartbeat.
I heated the water to make him another cup of coffee. I picked up the mug he had left in the sink and took a sip.
“Eww,” I exclaimed quietly. It was incredibly bitter—no wonder he asked me to make another. I shook my head, biting my lip. It seemed like Arlo’s mind wasn’t fully awake yet.
After preparing the coffee, I stepped out of the kitchen. Arlo wasn’t in the living room, so I looked around for him. I heard a voice and followed it to a room with an open door. I knocked twice.
“Come in,” Arlo said.
I handed him the mug of coffee I had made. He silently took it from my hands and sipped it. His expression changed as he tasted it. He took another sip and then looked at me.
“Sir, don’t you like the taste?” I asked.
“No. How did you know the exact way I like my coffee? Even Rita and Alex couldn’t get it right,” he said, clearly surprised.
I was stunned but overjoyed by his words.
“Maybe it was just luck, Sir,” I replied cheerfully.
He remembered! He remembered how I used to make his coffee. I was sure it wouldn’t be long before the rest of his memories of me returned. I just needed to take things slowly.
I excused myself to prepare his breakfast, smiling as I cooked. I decided to make spaghetti, knowing how much he loved it. I recalled the time he tried cooking spaghetti, and it ended up tasting bad instead. The memory made me chuckle softly.
I moved quickly, full of energy and excitement, because after five years, I was finally with Arlo again, and I was even cooking his favorite food for him.
In a few moments, I finished preparing the meal. I couldn’t wait for him to taste it.
When I peeked into the library room, he wasn’t there anymore. I stepped out, planning to go upstairs to check if he was there, but I saw him coming down the stairs. He wore casual clothes—blue cotton shorts and a black fitted t-shirt. Was he not planning to go to work today?
