Lingering Warmth

Chapter 4 — Clumsy Approach

Ethan started sending Clara things.

On the first day, he sent a huge bouquet of nine hundred and ninety-nine red roses with a card that read, "I'm sorry."

When the delivery guy brought them to the front desk of Verdant Architects, everyone in the office was stunned. Clara came down to collect them, her expression impassive. She told the delivery man, "Please send them back," turned around, and left.

The delivery guy stood there frozen, holding the enormous bouquet, caught between a rock and a hard place. Finally, he had to call Ethan's special assistant. "Hello, Assistant Marcus? Um... Ms. Hayes won't accept them. She said to send them back..."

After hanging up, the assistant braced himself and went to report to Ethan. Ethan's face turned as dark as a storm cloud.

"Fine, send them back," he said through gritted teeth.

But inside, he felt stung — hurt and furious at the same time.

The next day, Ethan changed his approach. He'd found out that Clara was working on an important project with a notoriously difficult client who had already rejected three drafts.

He thought about it for a moment, then called the client's CEO.

"Mr. Carter, long time no see."

"Oh, Mr. Stone! To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I heard you're working on a project with Verdant Architects these days?"

"Yes, that's right. Why do you ask?"

"The designer from Verdant, Ms. Hayes," Ethan paused, "is a friend of mine. Please give her proposal your careful consideration."

What kind of man was Mr. Carter? Sharp as a tack. He caught on immediately. "Oh, Mr. Stone, you can rest assured! Ms. Hayes's proposal is excellent as it is — we were just about to approve it!"

After hanging up, Ethan leaned back in his chair, satisfied.

He thought, Surely Clara will appreciate this gesture.

But the very next day, Clara called him.

"Ethan," her voice was icy, "what is the meaning of this?"

"What do you mean?" he played dumb.

"The project with Mr. Carter. Did you say something to him?"

"Mr. Carter? Which Mr. Carter?"

"Don't play innocent." Clara's voice carried suppressed anger. "Ethan, I told you already — what's between us stays between us. Don't interfere with my work."

"I was only trying to help you —"

"I don't need it." She cut him off, her voice firm. "I've already spoken to Mr. Carter about that project. The proposal will go through the normal process. I'll revise it if I have to. Please don't do this kind of thing again."

"Clara!" Ethan was getting angry too. "So I try to help you and I'm in the wrong?"

"That's not helping," Clara said. "That's charity."

She hung up again.

Ethan gripped his phone, so furious he wanted to smash something.

No good deed goes unpunished!

He fumed for a long time, but in the end, all that was left was a sense of helplessness.

He really... truly had no idea what Clara wanted.

When she was at home, he thought giving her money and a comfortable life was enough. Now that she'd left, he wanted to win her back, only to discover he didn't know where to begin.

Sending flowers — she wouldn't accept them.

Helping her — she wouldn't appreciate it.

Then what else could he do?

Ethan sat in his office, staring out the window at the sky, and thought for an entire afternoon.

Near the end of the workday, his assistant came in with some documents and said cautiously, "Mr. Stone, about tonight's dinner engagement —"

"Cancel it."

"But the other party is —"

"Cancel it," Ethan repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

The assistant dared not say another word and retreated.

Ethan grabbed his coat and left the office. He drove to the residential complex where Clara lived — he'd had his assistant look it up. It was an older neighborhood, nothing fancy, but close to her office.

He parked his car at the entrance and waited.

He waited for more than two hours. By the time the sky was completely dark, Clara finally came back. She was carrying a plastic bag with several books and a takeout meal inside.

She walked slowly, her head slightly bowed, looking exhausted.

Ethan sat in his car, watching her approach step by step, and his heart felt as though something were squeezing it tight.

Had she waited for him like this, too, back when she was at home? Waiting and waiting, until the night grew deep, until her heart went cold.

When Clara reached the complex entrance, she seemed to sense something. She paused and glanced in his direction.

Ethan's heart leapt into his throat.

She'd seen him.

Their eyes met.

Clara's gaze was perfectly calm, as if she were looking at a stranger. She didn't walk over, nor did she look away. She simply glanced for a moment, then continued walking into the complex.

From start to finish, her steps didn't falter once.

Ethan sat in his car for a long time without moving.

He suddenly felt ridiculous.

He'd always thought Clara couldn't live without him. She was so gentle, so dependent on him — how could she ever leave?

Now he realized the person who couldn't let go was him.

He'd grown accustomed to her care, her waiting, her always being there behind him. He assumed she'd always be there, so he never looked back.

Until one day, she was gone.

Ethan started the car and slowly drove away from the complex.

He didn't go home. Instead, he drove around the city aimlessly. Driving and driving, he found himself on the street he and Clara used to frequent.

The street was still the same street. The plane trees along the roadside were still the same plane trees. But the person beside him was gone.

He thought about when he first met Clara. Back then, his company had just gotten off the ground. He was dead broke — his office was a rented apartment. Clara had just graduated from college, studied architecture, and worked at a small design firm.

They'd met at a friend's gathering. Clara sat quietly in the corner, drinking a glass of orange juice, smiling when others made noise. Her eyes curved like two little crescent moons.

Ethan was drawn to her instantly.

He pursued her for six months. No matter how busy he was, he called her every day and took her out for dinner at least once a week. When she worked overtime, he waited downstairs at her company with a cup of hot milk tea. When she got sick, he rushed over without a second thought and stayed by her bedside, making congee.

Back then, he had so much patience.

How did he lose it after getting married?

Ethan pulled over to the side of the road, leaned his forehead on the steering wheel, and let out a bitter laugh. The laughter faded, and his eyes grew warm.

He was the one who lost her.

No one to blame but himself.