Before, he had tried to deceive himself, telling himself they were just colleagues. But now, he had no choice but to believe it. They were really together.
In an instant, his heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible vine, the pain so intense it was suffocating. He had told himself countless times that if this day ever came, he would have to be calm, to wish her well. But seeing it with his own eyes was like swallowing a thousand silver needles—he couldn't cough them up, couldn't swallow them down, and they pricked him with pain from the inside out.
Summoning his last shred of dignity, York turned to Peter. “I have something to take care of. You go on in.”
Before Peter could reply, York fled, the corners of his eyes tinged with red. The frantic pace of his steps betrayed the turmoil in his heart.
Peter watched impassively as York disappeared into the elevator, his own expression growing grim. York had fallen, hard.
After knocking and entering the room, Peter switched back to his usual carefree demeanor. “What’s that I smell? The sickeningly sweet stench of new love?”
Flustered, Claudia quickly stood up to clean. “Peter.”
Gideon asked Peter, “Didn’t Mr. Ferguson come with you?”
Peter glanced at Claudia. “He made it to the door, but something urgent came up, and he had to leave.”
Gideon glanced at Claudia, then lowered his eyes and said nothing.
Claudia took the bowl and utensils to the small kitchenette. She had heard the unspoken message in Peter’s words. York must have seen everything that just happened between her and Gideon.
She turned on the faucet and began to wash the dishes.
The Fergusons had always been anxious about York’s marriage prospects. Wendy had even probed her about it a few times. It was better this way. If he saw it for himself, he could let go sooner, start a new life, and welcome someone new.
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