Chapter 12
It had already been weeks since James had stopped visiting the café. Nima felt as if she had done something wrong to upset him. She missed their daily interactions and pondered why James would suddenly disappear. Texting him crossed her mind, but she was afraid of not getting a response, which made her feel despondent.
Margret Rey, the café owner, was very observant. She noticed that Nima was not acting like herself. One day, while wiping down the counter, she saw Nima staring blankly at a coffee cup. Rey put her hand on Nima's shoulder. "What's bothering you? You've been messing up every customer's order lately," Rey asked, concerned.
"Aunt Rey, there's a man I like, but he doesn't seem to like me back. Everything was going well, but then he suddenly disappeared, and I don't know why," Nima said, smiling wistfully.
Aunt Rey looked at Nima's face, her eyes flickering in disbelief. Nima, who was a quiet girl that didn't express her feelings and always had a straight face, was now confiding her emotions and trying to mask her sadness with a smile.
Rey sighed. "I'm a divorced woman, Nima, and I'm probably about the same age as your mother. I don't know much about love, but I think I can help you a bit if you tell me in detail what actually happened."
Nima told her what had happened. She recounted their last encounter, the awkwardness, and how James had suddenly become distant. Rey listened intently, nodding occasionally.
"It seems like he misunderstood you. You should probably reach out to him and clear up the misunderstanding," Aunt Rey said, patting Nima on the back. "We should get back to work. You can take a break from work since you're messing things up."
Nima nodded, grateful for the advice but still unsure of what to do. She decided to text James, but every time she picked up her phone, her heart pounded with fear. What if he didn't respond? What if he had moved on?
On the other hand, James had been throwing himself into his work, attending business events and gatherings to keep his mind off Nima. He had been working relentlessly, trying to bury his feelings under piles of documents and endless meetings.
"Is everything alright, Sir James?" asked Luke, his personal assistant, one evening.
James ignored Luke's question and continued reading his work documents, his eyes focused as he pushed up his sliding glasses. "You've been working day and night without any break. I'm worried you'll get ill."
"What do you mean? I'm the heir of the Watson family. I'm supposed to be the next chairman of this company. Are you telling me to back down?" James looked at Luke with an intense, unpleasant, and aggressive gaze, his eyebrows squinting in anger.
"My apologies, Sir James." Luke bowed and exited the office.
Bam! James put down his pen on the table, making a loud noise as his palm hit the table. He placed his hands on his forehead and sighed in distress. "Nima," he whispered her name softly, yet his pain was evident in his voice.
He stood up slowly, took off his glasses, and placed them on the table. He sat in front of his computer desk. Click-clack, click-clack, the keys echoed in the silent room as he typed an email. He stopped, stared at the screen, and then deleted everything he had written.