Chapter 92
Outside was a bustling neighborhood, still caught in the thick of rush hour, with people hustling and bustling
about.
Yet among the sea of faces on the street, Brandon didn’t catch a glimpse of anyone familiar.
With a puzzled furrow between his brows, Brandon walked on, letting his gaze roam through the crowd, but came up with zilch.
His search slowed to a halt, and Brandon stood still, silently watching the throng, his handsome face still shrouded with confusion over the fleeting sight he’d just caught.
Brandon wasn’t sure if he’d seen it wrong, that silhouette.
He shifted slightly, scanning the other side of the pedestrian flow, but still found nothing.
In the tranquil alley, Sophia meandered alone, her hand subconsciously gripping her phone, palms slightly sweaty, heart rate ticking up a notch, filled with an inexplicable sense of being lost and clueless.
She hadn’t expected to bump into Brandon again, just like that, without any warning.
She’d never thought she’d see him again, and even if she did stumble upon him like she just had, she should’ve been straightforward and greeted him, not chosen to bolt like she did now
Sophia didn’t know why she was dodging him.
It seemed her body made a choice before her mind could weigh in.
She didn’t even have the guts to walk back to that office building now, still not quite mentally adjusted, so when Sylvia called again asking how much longer she’d be, she felt guilty and apologized to Sylvia and Don, saying something came up last minute, and she’d have to reschedule their chat.
Don, being the generous and attentive boss he was, made sure she was just dealing with a minor issue and not in any danger, told her to take care and not to worry about work, and then hung up.
Don stepped outside and saw Brandon standing by the road, his gaze unintentionally sweeping over the passersby, his usually calm and composed face showing a touch of bewilderment, as if searching for
someone.
He approached Brandon, puzzled, and clapped him on the shoulder, “What’s up? Looking for someone?”
Brandon turned around, his expression back to the cool aloofness Don was familiar with, “Nope.‘
Don glanced behind him and then at him, “All done with your stuff?”
Don shook his head, “Had to reschedule.
He half–jokingly slapped Brandon on the shoulder, “You came all this way to see me, I can’t let you hang, right?”
Brandon promptly pulled his hand away, “Don’t flatter yourself. It was just on the way.”
Already fishing out his car keys, he headed towards the nearby parking lot.
Don followed with a chuckle, “Let me live in my fantasy world from time to time, it won’t kill anyone, no need to burst my bubble so fast.”
The two hit up a traditional restaurant that Don claimed had a real local vibe.
Nestled in a shopping center not far from the office, just a quick drive around the block and you’re there.
The place was decked out in classic Zenitha retro style, even the waitstaff were decked out in traditional clothes.
This place is all about that classic culture vibe, they even rent out traditional clothes and hairpieces, and offer
services. It’s a hit for those looking to check in on social, Don explained, “Don’t be fooled by the
Chapter 92
flashy service, they really put their heart into the food. This is some of the most authentic West district cuisine I’ve had.”
Brandon scanned the hall; business was indeed booming.
But thanks to the spacious layout, it lacked the noisy feel of other eateries, instead exuding a serene and peaceful dining atmosphere, pretty solid.
Don, a regular here, nodded to the bartender and then led Brandon to a spot near the entrance, passing him the menu, “Take a look, see what you fancy.”
Brandon slid the menu back, “You order, I’m good.”
Don flashed an “OK” sign and didn’t bother being polite with Brandon, waving over a server.
Brandon poured tea for them both, pushing a cup towards Don before taking a small sip himself.
As the richly fragrant tea slid down his throat, Brandon’s thoughts drifted back to the shadow he’d glimpsed outside the office building, pausing his motion ever so slightly.
Just as Don finished ordering, he caught Brandon’s lapse and the distant look in his eyes, nudging his elbow across the table, “What’s up? You’ve been off since we met up.”
As expected, his curiosity was met with a fleeting glance from Brandon and a cool, “It’s nothing.”
After another deliberate sip of tea, Brandon elegantly set down his cup, his serene gaze taking in the restaurant’s ambiance like there was truly nothing amiss.
Don shook his head resignedly, taking a sip of tea himself.
Brandon ignored him, just calmly taking in everything about the restaurant.
At that moment, a tiny figure stumbled through the curtain behind Brandon, bag in hand. Whether she was in too much of a hurry or the threshold was too high, she had barely clambered over when, with a “thud,” she tumbled to the ground, her bag accidentally flying onto Brandon’s foot.
Instinctively looking down, Brandon was momentarily taken aback by the little girl sprawled on the floor, looking up at him with big, round, bewildered eyes.
Don also glanced at Brandon, then down at the little girl on the floor.
The little girl looked about a year old, a typical Zenithan face, dressed in a pink and white summer dress, with two tiny buns atop her head, bangs cut straight across her forehead, the buns tied with little ribbons. Her delicate features were adorable and pretty, almost unusually so, and even he couldn’t help but pause for a
