I stepped aside to let him in, kicking off my shoes. I couldn't help but blurt out, "Did you find something about my origins?"
He paused and chuckled, "How did you guess right away?"
"What's up?" I was dying to know. Even though my parents had passed away years ago, it mattered a lot to me whether I was their child.
He sat on the couch, handing me a file as he sighed. "It turns out Allen was just spinning tales. You can stop worrying about it. It would only make your folks sad, wherever they are."
When hearing that, my anxious heart finally settled, and I began flipping through the files, like my birth certificate, medical records from throughout my life, blood type, and date of birth. Everything matched. With each detail I had confirmed, my heart settled a bit more.
I was utterly at ease then. There was no mistake. I was the child of my parents, and their love for me was always genuine.
"Thanks, Mark." I said gratefully, "Have you eaten yet? There's food in the fridge. I could whip something up for you..."
"I've had a work dinner. That's why I'm here so late," Mark declined and playfully scolded, "But didn't you promise not to be so formal with me?"
"Huh?" I was stunned.
He smiled. "You promised not to be so distant, remember?"
"Sorry..." It seemed like a habit.
Mark looked earnestly at me. "No need to apologize. Just take your time. Whether we're just friends or whatever, I don't want you to feel like you need to be polite."
"Okay." I smiled, accepting his words, and felt a sudden warmth at the affection in his gaze, quickly looking away.
Luckily, he didn't push further. "It's getting late. I should head out."
I got up. "Let me walk you out."
Too embarrassed to ask for a ride again, I texted Gregory the next day and took a cab to work. He didn't reply.
Life suddenly became unusually calm. I focused on designing outfits for Ramona and Adah, blending modern styles with their unique personalities and preferences.
I slept better than expected the night before Bryant and Dorothy's engagement party.
Getting ready the following morning felt like any other workday. Dressed in a casual white turtleneck, light blue jeans, and flat boots, I grabbed my bag and slipped into Christine's car.
It wasn't until we pulled up at the hotel that the reality of the situation hit me. I was there to attend my ex-husband's engagement party. I was attending the celebration of a man I had, by some twist of fate, loved for years.
No matter how much I wanted to be indifferent, seeing "Bryant & Dorothy" displayed together at the banquet hall entrance stirred a wave of melancholy in me.
Christine glanced at the fairy-tale-like, dreamy decorations inside the hall and snarked, "Money sure makes a difference. A second wedding is even more lavish than the first."
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