The morning passed in a blur of meetings and experiments. Rosel kept her focus on her work, determined to avoid any unnecessary interactions with Jun. However, as the day drew to a close, she found herself in the same predicament as yesterday—the pantry.
Taking a deep breath, she braced herself for the inevitable encounter. There he was, leaning against the coffee machine, his tall frame casting a long shadow. A shiver ran down her spine, a mix of anticipation and dread.
"Mind if I join you?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.
Rosel nodded, her voice barely audible. The only sound in the pantry was the soft hum of the refrigerator. The silence between them was heavy, thick with unspoken words. Rosel stirred her coffee, her eyes fixed on the swirling liquid, as if searching for answers in its depths.
"Look here. How have you been the past few years?" Jun began, his voice carrying an undercurrent of warmth that was both familiar and unsettling. However, too much of something is bound to cause an overdose.
Her heart sank at the words 'few years'.
The words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. A pang of something akin to nostalgia shot through Rosel, followed swiftly by a wave of icy indifference.
Her gaze met his, but the spark that once ignited between them had long since been extinguished. The woman looking back at him was a stranger, a carefully constructed facade of professionalism. "Few years," she replied, her tone flat. The words felt like ice forming around her heart, a protective shield against vulnerability.
A flicker of surprise crossed Jun's face, replaced almost immediately by a determined set to his jaw. "Look, Ros-"
Rosel interrupted him, her voice sharp, "Mr. Yale. We were two people who happened to know each other. And as for the ending, I believe it was quite clear. I'm just a girl you had rejected and left behind from the past." Her voice trembled slightly, but she refused to let him see her weakness.
Jun opened his mouth to respond, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. The realisation of the chasm between them was a bitter pill to swallow. He nodded slowly, defeat evident in his eyes.
"Mr. Yale. As business partners, I think it is only appropriate to talk about work matters. If there is anything else, you may email me. Otherwise, I have some things to attend to. Goodbye," Rosel stated, her voice firm.
There was a finality in her tone that left no room for argument. As she turned to leave, her hand instinctively reached for her phone, where she quickly typed out a reply to the Instagram message from the guy with dimples: "I would love to meet. I know a great place. We can talk more then."
Unbeknownst to them, their tense exchange had been observed by Rachel, who had quietly slipped into the pantry for a coffee refill. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she witnessed the unfolding drama. She couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for Rosel, while at the same time, a sense of excitement at the prospect of juicy gossip and chance.
As Rosel disappeared from view, Rachel leaned against the counter, her mind racing, filled with thoughts. Unlocking her phone, Rachel made a note in her phone. 'His type.', smiling as she hopped away, gripping her phone happily.