Magic Ball: the Billionaire in Ranch

84 Simple Joys A Woman Brings

The days drifts by in chronological order. Some were meaningful, some were nights that all Noah would ever want to do was sleep in his office desk, the clutter serving as his blanket that keeps him safe and warm.

Business was at its peak, and Noah was rushing a lot of things for Robert’s upcoming wedding. He had to do alot of work in advance because he didn’t want to have Thomas and his other employees be burdened by the amount of work he would left behind. So, he made up his mind and began organizing an entire week’s worth of work. And if possible, he can do more so that when he comes back, he wouldn’t be shocked with the line of tasks he has to check on.

The dim light of the lamp he bought the other month made the shadows of his pen dance on his wooden desk. Noah paid no attention to it as he began reading and signing, typing and organizing—the cycle repeats itself no matter how much he intends to break it.

When midnight struck, and the digital clock beside him rang like it was the sound of death, Noah collapsed on a pile of paper, his breathing heavy while the immense pressure on his eyelids weighed. He badly wants to sleep, the moan escaping his dry lips as he lifted himself up on his seat.

Placing his head between his palms, Noah let out several sighs. At that moment, he realized how comforting it was to have someone pat him in the shoulder, or perhaps serve him some coffee and blanket to have him be ready for an all-nighter.

Possibly, this might be the situations Brice and Fitch were talking about the other day. That one blissful moment of peace they craved with the women they love—and when Noah asked if it was something physical, the two of them gave him a disgusted look. But Fitch was fast to clarify that they didn’t hate going physical with the people they love. His Italian friend articulated the meaning behind their words: the simple things your woman does make the bad times bearable.

Noah had to rely to no one but himself. It was odd to rely to a woman, let alone share the burden of one’s hardship on another person. He wouldn’t want that, and besides, he’d feel bad if he does so. Imagine having someone you love feel the same angst and pressure you have for work? Now, that wasn’t Noah’s cup of tea.

“Endurance,” he chanted as he lighted the first cigarette stick he had in a while. “Must I really give up now?”

Looking at the calendar next to the rack of papers, Noah noted the red-marked date of Robert’s wedding. It’s only four days away, and Noah’s only able to finish half of his workload.

Blowing the smoke ahead, Noah watched how the white cast circled about in the nonexistent air. His room was dark, except for the occasional glimpsing of the moon’s light on the enormous window behind him. He had the curtains pried in half the moment he woke-up.

Letting out another sigh, Noah had his cigarette stick between his mouth as he grumbled and immersed himself with work. Later that night, he dreamed of her again.

The small, golden curls of her long hair. Her thick eyebrows. Her head that reached to his chest. Her plain shirt, jeans, and black knee-length boots. And her eyes—the window to her soul—that stared at him with ease whenever she would pass by, the reins tight in her hands as she led Snowflake through the end of Noah’s plains.

When he woke-up the next day, he found himself sleeping soundly on the sofa of his office room, a paper covering his face. Dried saliva was on his mouth, and he didn’t bother to wipe it.

Noah sat upright and had his arms stretched out farther than he’s used to. He turned his toward the window, and daybreak was already approaching. The roosters on the other side of the farm began calling out for the sun. In about an hour, Thomas would awake the other employees, and the lot of them would start their daily work around the ranch. Feeding cattle, running the dogs, pastoring the sheep, having the horses bathed—all of it while Noah dozes off in his sofa.

The guilt ate away at his heart.

In his mind, he was already sealing away the memory of Diana in that little, black box he specifically made for storing the memories he didn’t need anymore.

But then he recalled Fitch and Brice’s conversation about women doing simple joys to a man’s heart.

Cupping his hand to his chest, Noah felt the unbearable squeeze as he realized that Diana was still making him feel the simple joys, even if she didn’t intend in returning Noah’s feelings.

Grumbling like an old man—which spooked him because he sounded Thomas a mere seconds ago—Noah scratched the back of his head and began heading to his room.

Once he arrived, he collapsed on the bed and had more sleep than he’ll even get for the next few days to come.

In all honesty, Noah didn’t know if he was just closing his eyes and not sleeping at all. Because when a few knocks came on his door, his eyes opened wide, and he bolted to the knob. Twisting it open, Fitch greeted him with a smile.

“Good morning,” and he said like he didn’t have any problems left in the world.

Noah found his hand was already rubbing at his eyes. It’s as if his body was moving on its own, and he had no control of it anymore.

With a light nod, Noah had him enter his room.

Fitch flopped himself on Noah’s bed. He spread his arms on the soft mattress as he reveled in its softness.

Rolling on his stomach, Fitch c****d his head to the side as Noah remained standing in front of the door. Both his hands are positioned on his waist. Indiscriminately staring at the floor, Noah yawned long, the tears gathering at the ends of his eyes.

“The bags under your eyes are so visible I can’t imagine you anymore without it,” Fitch commented as he made a gesture of pointing at Noah’s eyes.

Despite his remark, Noah didn’t feel anything about it. He kept his face in neutrality. He didn’t mind his face that much so long as he dresses comfortably.

Fitch sat upright. He crossed his leg and leaned his elbow on one of his knees, “What’s up?” he asked. His eyebrows clashed when Noah headed straight to the double doors of Noah’s room’s balcony. Turning the lock, he spread open the double doors. The cold, morning wind gushed inside excitedly. Arms tight, Fitch hugged himself.  He quivered, but Noah stood and held his ground.

“Aren’t you cold?” his Italian friend regarded, and Noah thinks he would not ran out of questions.

Shaking his head slowly, Noah turned and looked at him, “No. I’m rather sleepy.”

“I figure,” Fitch replied as if no one in the world would ever notice how obvious Noah wanted to lay on the bed and sleep for the next hours to come.

He had his palm on his forehead, “But man, I need to finish an entire week’s workload.”

Fitch gazed at the ceiling of his room, “For Robert’s wedding?”

“Of course,” Noah stared at him disbelievingly, “what else would it have to be?” with his response, Noah took a step back. He thought he sounded guilty about something.

The stare Fitch gave him felt as if he was hiding something that would soon resurface. “It’s like you have other reasons to not be getting the sleep you have always wanted?”

“I don’t have any other reason—”

“Then, why did you react that way?”

Noah grumbled before he answered back with a sigh, his head bowing in defeat, “Just that I realized the weight of your topic yesterday.” Noah didn’t want to admit that what Fitch and Brice talked about yesterday was also one that he craves—possibly, it may become a want that he desperately needed to have. He didn’t want to go down that rocky path.

Fitch searched his eyes. For a while, the young heir was silent.

“By what what you said, did you mean the simple joys of a woman brings?” he kept his face neutral the entire time.

The way his heart ached—the squeeze he couldn’t possibly endure anymore, and how the denseness of the wind added to the difficulty of his breathing—moving his head downward, Noah nodded ever so slowly. It was sure and heartbreaking.

As if Fitch had grasped of the reason without being laid into words, he closed his eyes in response. The cold breeze that journeyed its way inside Noah’s room calmed down the riling emotions in his mind.

“I understand,” Fitch replied as their eyes met again. “By the way, I haven’t told you why I came to here.”

To be honest, Noah had also forgotten to ask.

His hands now on his sides, Noah faced away from the spiraling wind, “Tell me, then.”

The mood inside the room escalated deeper as Fitch stood. His hand was placed inside his pants’ pocket, a solemn look completed his irises as he said, “I need to leave in a few days.”