Chapter 182
Cecilia’s pov
Back at the apartment building.
I decisively pressed both the 13th floor and penthouse buttons.
Sebastian raised an eyebrow. You’re not inviting me to your place p>
I looked at him with the sweetest smile I could muster. “Not tonight. You have a video conference. Focus on your work p>
Sebastian frowned slightly. “If I’m working, shouldn’t my secretary be working overtime too? Come to my study tonight p>
I just stared at him.
When we reached the 13th floor, I stepped out, blocking Sebastian from following. “I’ll come up later. You go ahead first p>
Sebastian stood in the elevator with an amused smirk. “I don’t think my secretary will dare show up p>
My smile felt fake even to me.
As soon as the elevator doors closed, I rushed into my apartment.
Go to the penthouse? He might not need sleep, but I certainly did.
I collapsed onto my couch, holding my aching lower back.
My back was killing me p>
I threw together a quick meal, ate it, then went to soak in the bath.
Halfway through my soak, my phone pinged.
Opening it, I saw a friend request: “This is Amara p>
I shot upright in the water. Amara p>
The rumored ex who had this tumultuous on-and-off relationship with Sebastian.
Supposedly our Singapore trip was because of her, though I didn’t know if those rumors were true.
Sebastian might have been cold and cruel to her, but her obsession with him was very real–I’d witnessed it firsthand.
I’d almost forgotten about her since our last encounter. Why was she suddenly adding me?
I had an ominous feeling. Nevertheless, I accepted the friend request.
A moment later, Amara’s message appeared: Hello, Ms. Moore.
I replied: Hello, Ms. Amara.
Amara: I’m returning to the States next Wednesday.
I froze.
My mind spun, as if my breath had been knocked out of me.
After a long pause, I replied with two simple words: Welcome back.
Her purpose couldn’t have been more obvious–specifically adding me, then announcing her return date.
Vaguely, I recalled Sebastian’s sister’s warning this morning about overhearing their mother talking to “you know who” on the phone. Could that “you know who” be… Amara?
Lost in thought, my phone slipped into the water, instantly submerged beneath flower petals and bubbles.
I quickly fished it out, but the screen had already gone black. Dead on arrival.
I blinked. Feeling numb.
The next morning.
After breakfast, I went to deal with the aftermath of last night’s phone fiasco.
New phone: check.
Then came the second stop–my parents’ house.
I’d left my car there last night, and figured I might as well say hi while I was at it. A little emotional reset wouldn’t hurt.
In the taxi, just as I powered on the new phone, Sebastian’s name lit up the screen.
“Hello,” I answered, keeping my tone even.
“You weren’t home. And your phone was off p>
His voice came through cool and probing–the kind of calm that wasn’t really calm.
I leaned back, watching the city blur past. “Took a bath. Dropped my phone in the water. It died instantly p>
He paused. “How careless of you p>
I rolled my eyes. “It wasn’t planned. Accidents happen p>
“Are you coming back home after that p>
“I’m stopping by my parents’ to get my car, then heading straight to the office,” I said.
When he didn’t reply, I added–softer, unintentionally–“See you at work. Bye p>
The words lingered longer than they should have. Like an echo of something still warm.
As soon as the call ended, the softness vanished. My smile dropped. So did the pretense.
Back to neutral.
The house smelled like citrus and rosemary when I walked in–clean, calm, familiar.
Mom had just returned from grocery shopping, wrestling with paper bags like they were fighting back.
Dad was on the balcony, fussing over one of his precious orchids.
“Your father,” Esther sighed, sliding a pack of beef into the fridge, “checked on that plant three times last night. I told him he might as well pitch a tent and sleep out there with it p>
I let out a quiet laugh. The kind that came more from the chest than the throat.
She glanced at me, then paused. “You look… tired p>
I shrugged. “Didn’t sleep much p>
Esther wiped her hands on a dish towel, then glanced at me again, this time more directly.
“Can I ask you something p>
I nodded.
“Do you have feelings for Mr. Black p>
She said it casually–too casually, which meant she’d been thinking about it for a while.
“He’s exceptional. Looks, brains, manners. You work with him every day. Doesn’t that… affect you p>
I smiled, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “It’s not that simple, Mom p>
She tilted her head. “Complicated how p>
I dropped the smile altogether. “His mother already has someone picked out for him p>
Mom understood immediately.She sighed, partly in relief.
“Cecilia, I’m glad you realize it’s impossible. I was afraid you’d be like before–rushing headfirst into things without thinking, impossible to hold back p>
“Mom, I won’t be like that again p>
“Mr. Black is certainly impressive. The books, the orchid–he’s obviously making an effort. Your father and I aren’t blind. But what good is his excellence if his family doesn’t approve p>
“I know.” I lowered my eyes, nodding. “I understand all that p>
“Your divorce wasn’t that long ago. There’s no rush to find someone new p>
“I’m not rushing,” I smiled, moisture gathering in my eyes.
Momwashed some fresh cherry tomatoes and fed me one. “Your father and I can only give you advice–you make your own decisions. I can afford to buy books, but that orchid is too expensive. Once your dad nurses it back to health, we’ll return it. It’ll be fine p>
“Mmm p>
I took the bowl of washed tomatoes and sat at the table, eating them.
They were so sour.
Mom walked to the balcony and looked at my father, who was admiring the flower like a treasure. She couldn’t help but snap, “That’s right, look all you want! Better enjoy it while it’s still here p>
I left my parents’ house still tasting tomatoes.
After clearing a whole bowl of them at breakfast, I was so full I could’ve rolled down the driveway.
My car was parked on the curb out front–I hadn’t bothered moving it into the garage last night.
As I stepped out into the morning sun, keys in hand, I heard someone call my name.
“Cecilia p>
I turned toward the voice.
Simon Foster was just backing out of his driveway next door, his car window rolled halfway down.
Of course. Because awkward timing was the theme of the week.
“Mr. Foster,” I said with a polite nod, pausing on the sidewalk.
His brow quirked. “Mr. Foster? Come on, you used to call me Simon p>
I offered a thin smile. “That was a long time ago p>
He gave a quiet chuckle, then glanced toward the road.
“Off to work p>
“Yep. You too p>
“The usual Monday madness.” He leaned an elbow on the windowsill, studying me for a second.
“You know he started, voice a little too casual, “if you’re ever free, we could grab coffee sometime. Catch up p>
I opened my car door, pretending not to hear the subtext.
“Have a good day, Simon p>
“You too, Cecilia,” he said, and for a second, he almost sounded disappointed.
I slid into the driver’s seat, shut the door, and exhaled.
Neighbors. Always full of timing.