She had striking, rare purple eyes and slightly wavy black hair, exuding both professionalism and intelligence.
Soren's pupils constricted as he instinctively tightened his grip on the jar of blueberries in his arms.
"I-I'm here to find someone…" he said softly.
"Oh, I see. Sorry about that. Who are you looking for? I can call them out for you," she bent down slightly, speaking to him in a friendly tone.
Before she could get a response, a slightly overweight middle-aged man came running up behind her while waving a stack of papers in his hand, "Luis! Luis! Come take a look at this! We just got new helicopter photos…"
She turned her head and called back loudly, then gave Soren an apologetic smile, "Sorry, the newsroom's a bit busy. Who are you waiting for? I'll go call them for you."
"Luis!" Another young man with short red hair came running up.
He wore a dark green plaid shirt with a camera slung around his neck, "Where have you been? Get ready; we have to leave soon. The Daily Planet finally secured an interview with Lex Luthor, and he specifically requested you…"
Luis straightened up, one hand on her hip, and turned back, saying, "What's the rush? There's traffic on the west side again, so I took the subway here. We've got plenty of time this afternoon, but I still need to finish this special report I'm working on."
As soon as she finished speaking, Luis Lane waved at Soren and quickly strode off in the direction of the middle-aged man who had called her earlier.
The red-haired young man jogged to catch up with her, still talking, "Oh, so Superman didn't swoop in to save you from traffic today…"
In the blink of an eye, the two of them had already walked far away.
Luis Lane's voice floated back from the other end of the office hallway, reaching Soren's ears, "…I told you, he's not always available, and we're not that close…"
Soren's gaze followed her retreating figure, fixed on her until she disappeared into a closed office.
He shrank a little, holding the glass jar, suddenly feeling its weight.
Placing the jar of blueberries on his lap, his eyes unfocused as he lowered his gaze, murmuring softly to himself, "…Luis."
Luis Lane.
The Pulitzer Prize-winning star reporter of the Daily Planet.
Superman's true love.
His beautiful, intelligent, and talented wife.
Soren didn't even know what kind of feelings he was holding onto, but for some strange, stubborn reason, he stayed and waited until Clark finished his meeting.
Finally, Clark came rushing out of the conference room, having just escaped Perry's sarcastic remarks and scolding.
He spotted Soren sitting in a chair and immediately noticed the outfit Soren was wearing—clothes that Clark once knew so well.
That familiar face, now framed by the old clothes Clark had worn, revealed a sharp, delicate chin.
From the loose sleeves peeked a slim, fragile wrist, as if it were the most vulnerable and precious thing in the world.
Clark's heart was instantly flooded with warmth, as if a gentle southern current had swept through his chest, filling it with tenderness.
"What brings you here, Soren?" he asked, gazing at him with affection.
Soren looked up, staring at Clark in a daze.
In that brief moment, countless comic book panels flashed through Soren's mind—images he'd seen of Superman overlapped with Clark's face before him.
He remembered how, in the comics, Clark would carry Luis Lane through the sky to the Fortress of Solitude, how he'd heroically save her time and time again from disaster, always at just the right moment to protect her.
How could he ever compare to Luis Lane?
Clark's love for her filled Soren with a mix of admiration and deep, crushing insecurity.
Clark would travel across galaxies for her, plucking a singing rose from another world…
He'd memorize every sequence of her DNA, just to give her a day of experiencing Superman's powers…
He'd name their child after the man who meant the most to him, "Jonathan," to honor the father who shaped his life.
How could Soren ever compete with that?
With his lies, his deceit, his years of quietly gazing up at Clark from the dust, too insignificant to ever be noticed?
Soren couldn't bring himself to meet Clark's mesmerizing blue eyes.
He curled up against the back of the chair, his fingers gripping the edge of the glass jar so tightly that they turned white.
In a small voice, he murmured, "Martha asked me to bring you some blueberries…"
Soren handed the jar of blueberries to Clark.
Clark took the heavy, full jar of fresh blueberries, a bit amused, "You came all the way here just for this?"
"...Yeah," Soren said quietly, looking down.
Clark didn't notice his unease and smiled, "I'll make you a blueberry pie tonight, alright? Or maybe blueberry tiramisu—what would you like?"
But before he could finish his sentence, the sound of high heels clicked from behind him as Luis Lane walked toward them.
She was holding several drafts of ideas from the meeting they'd just had, and with her usual no-nonsense attitude, she went straight to Clark, "Clark Kent, we need to talk. What do you mean by this 'Has the U.S. decision to strengthen Baghdad's security regulations shown a sign of weakness' piece—"
Her words stopped abruptly when she saw Soren.
She blinked, then lifted her chin in sudden realization, "Ah, so this is the little guy who was looking for you…"
"What's wrong, Luis? Is there something you think needs revising in the pitch?" Clark frowned slightly, shielding Soren behind him as he turned to speak to her.
Soren trembled from head to toe, and before Clark could even finish, he stood up with anxiety flooding him, "You go ahead and work, Clark. I have to get to work too—I didn't even take a day off today…"
Without waiting for Clark's confused "Soren?" to register, he hurriedly ran off, fleeing from the confrontation between Clark and Luis.