Episode 3
670 Words
After arriving at Oliver's home, the two part ways at the entrance of the apartment.
"Emma." He calls out to her.
Emma's heart skips a beat. The recent kiss has sent her thoughts racing, and she stares blankly at Oliver. She can’t help but wonder if it’s just her imagination, but she senses hesitation in him.
"Are you leaving Phoenix again soon?"
Emma hesitates before answering, "Not for the time being."
The ringing of her phone interrupts their conversation. Emma apologizes and answers the call as she walks towards her home.
Oliver lowers his hand, forcing a bitter smile. He wonders when he’ll see her again. Will there even be a next time?
After dropping off Emma, Oliver heads to a gathering organized by his close friend, Willow. He pushes open the door and steps inside.
Willow, with a pool cue in one hand and a cigarette dangling from his mouth, grins widely at the sight of him. "Well, well, well. A rare sight indeed! You actually ventured out on your day off?"
Oliver gives him a quick, sidelong glance.
As Oliver's emotional radar, Willow senses there’s more to the story. He leans against the pool table. "What's going on?"
From across the room, Dylan, who is sipping a drink at the booth, raises his glass in response. The red liquid collides with the sides of the glass, creating a pinkish hue. "Who dares mess with Oliver?"
Oliver crosses his arms and chuckles. "Just a gentle and refined doctor. Who wouldn't dare mess with that?"
He reaches for a cigarette from the pack lying on the corner of the table, places it between his lips, and shields the flame of his lighter to ignite it. After exhaling a cloud of smoke, he speaks in a low voice, "Less chatter, more sense."
"Only he knows how to put on a show," Willow whispers to Dylan, eyeing Oliver as he blows smoke rings.
While Oliver is perceived as a knowledgeable and well-liked doctor by everyone, his closest friends have long recognized the underlying rogue potential within him.
Dylan silently nods, acknowledging Willow’s words in his heart.
The next instant, Oliver’s casual voice echoes, "Let’s play a round." Followed by, "Willow."
Willow: "..."
After losing four consecutive rounds, Willow raises his hands in surrender, saying pitifully, "Don’t pick on me anymore."
Oliver reaches for his second cigarette and sits down on the sofa.
The two exchange a glance.
It seems that something is really bothering him.
Oliver, who has set rules for himself to avoid excessive smoking and drinking due to his need for precision with his hands, has already lit his second cigarette in a short time. The last time he did this was during his doctoral dissertation writing.
Oliver’s mind keeps revisiting the question that arose at Emma's doorstep.
"I can see her anytime, just like these past years. During holidays, if I go to the restaurants and art exhibitions she frequents, I’m bound to run into her. But what about an actual face-to-face conversation with her? The probability of that is less than one in ten thousand. Today’s kiss might be the final intersection between us."
He finishes his last puff of smoke, grabs his coat, and heads towards the door.
"Oliver, where are you going again?" Willow asks.
Oliver, who dislikes any strong odor on his person, replies with a bland tone, "Home."
The door closes, and Willow, holding his breath, points at the door and exclaims, "Look at him, look at him! Is this normal? This morning at the hotel, he was as gentle as a spring breeze. I thought that’s why everyone from the hospital director to the cleaning lady liked him—the kind Dr. Xu. But what did he do this afternoon? He came back like a lost soul."
"It feels like déjà vu..." Dylan says, swirling his glass of red wine.
Willow: "What are you getting at?"
Dylan looks at him and says, "The last time you were heartbroken, you were like this too."
- Writer
