23 Go back to just boss and employee

Gemma's POV.

When I open my eyes, I see mom sitting by the bed.

"The young guy at the door has been waiting for you," mmom says softly. "Do you want to go out and talk to him?"

I sit up. "Mom, how did you know—"

"You're my daughter. You came back so suddenly, I knew something was off. But if there's something you don't want to talk about, I won't push you."

It's already the afternoon.

I stay silent for a few seconds before saying, "Mom, why do my relationships always fail?"

"Because no one succeeds so easily. The door to happiness—you have to knock a few times before it opens."

"What if I never find happiness?"

"Then love yourself. Love your family, your friends. No one said only a partner can make you happy." Mom gently strokes my back, just like when I was little, and she would soothe me after I ate too much and felt bloated.

I wrap my arms around her waist. "That guy at the door hurt me."

"So, you don't want to see him?"

"Yeah."

Mom picks up a brush and starts combing my hair. "Do you remember when you broke the TV screen as a child and were too scared to come home?"

"Of course. You and Dad searched for me for ages."

"And what did I tell you?"

"No matter what happens, no matter how bad things get, running away is never the solution."

Mom smiles. "Exactly. Now, this guy has hurt you. You can be sad, you can escape from New York back to California, but after you calm down, you still have to face things and talk it through, right?"

"I understand."

I quickly wipe my face, get out of bed, and go wash up, splashing my face with cold water.

When I walk out the door, I see a strange sight: it's California in the evening, and the air is filled with the scent of the sea. Luke is standing in the sunset, wearing a white shirt, holding a bouquet of red roses with his bandaged hand.

He still looks incredibly handsome—beyond words. Looking back, maybe it wasn't entirely his fault. I was the one who pursued him; he never went out of his way to seek me out.

"Gemma," he says when he sees me, a flicker of light passing through his tired eyes.

I stop two meters away from him. "How's your hand?"

"Just a soft tissue injury, nothing serious."

"I'm sorry."

"I should be the one apologizing. I deserve it." He steps closer, and the roses tremble slightly in his hand as he moves. "I found your home address from the company application form. I rushed here from New York to say—"

"I accept your apology. You can leave now," I say.

The roses stop trembling, but as the wind blows, a few petals fall.

"You know I didn't just come to apologize," Luke says.

I look at the fallen petals, then raise my head. "So, when my friend saw you buying flowers that time, they were for Mary, right?"

The air becomes still.

"Luke, do you know?" I take a deep breath. "I don't hate you. In fact, in some ways, I even admire you. Not many men can still mourn a girlfriend after she's passed away."

"Gemma, can we go back to how things were?" Luke looks into my eyes.

I smile. "Pretend like nothing happened?"

"At least before the hospital, everything was good—we were good."

"What kind of good? You continuing to see me as Mary's replacement? And I pretending I don't know?"

He stays silent for a few seconds.

"Gemma, I admit at the beginning—"

I cut him off. "I was the one who pursued you, we're both responsible. But now, it's time to end this mistake. I want us to go back to just boss and employee."

I call him "boss" like I do at the office, then turn and walk away.

"I don't agree," he says sharply, stepping forward and grabbing my wrist.

I turn and look at him, pulling my hand free. "Then just fire me."

I turn back and step inside.

The sunset paints the sky red, and the light shifts from red to orange, finally turning a soft purple-pink.

Luke stands at my door, holding the bouquet, motionless, staring at my window.

He looks dashing, standing tall with the flowers, catching the attention of quite a few passersby. People come and go, but Luke stands there like a soldier at attention, not moving.

I'm still a bit tired, so I draw the curtains and go back to sleep. When I wake up, the moon is already out.

Luke is still standing there.

It's 9:30 at night. A stray cat with its tail raised walks past Luke, even sniffing his shoes. Then the cat darts toward a shadow in the distance.

Dad has returned from fishing, and today was a big catch. Soon, several stray cats gather around him.

After he finishes handing out fish, I hear him say in the yard, "still waiting for Gemma? You've been standing here all day."

Luke forces a smile. "I hurt her. I want to make up for it."

"Young man, you know you can't force feelings, right?" Dad says as he heads inside with his fishing rod, not forgetting to add, "Youth is like this! You still have time to chase love. Back in my college days, I waited outside a girl's dorm all night too. But we're different—I ended up marrying her. You might not be so lucky."

Luke's smile falters even more.

His smile looks like a cheap mask, slowly crumbling over time, like old paint peeling away bit by bit, falling apart.

Midnight arrives.

I take some cold medicine and try to sleep again. But my sleep is restless, as if I'm drifting on the sea, floating between dreams and wakefulness.

The next morning, the sound of cats playing wakes me up. My door flies open with Mom knocking hard, "Hey, a stray cat took your stuff!"

I throw on a coat and open the door to look outside.

Luke is gone. He didn't take the flowers with him—they're left in the bushes. The wind gently blows, and the red petals swirl in the breeze.

A black cat curiously watches the petals, crouching down as if ready to pounce. Then, it leaps at them, clawing and biting fiercely.

The roses soon scatter, the petals blown away by the wind, falling like tiny red stars onto the grass, only to disappear quickly.

My phone buzzes. I open it to see a message from Luke: "I agree with what you said. From today on, I won't bother you anymore. We'll just keep our relationship at work."

During the rest of my vacation, I spend my days fishing with Dad or going to the market with Mom, and in the evenings, I try to sleep without relying on medicine.

Mom and Dad's cooking is delicious, and by the end of the break, I've gained two kilograms.

Then, I return to New York.

I see Luke again at the staff meeting on the first day after the holiday.

Today's meeting is actually an awards ceremony. The dealership has set up several awards for achievements, customer service, and team contributions. The winners will be publicly recognized with certificates and bonuses.

I happen to be one of the recipients.

When Luke calls my name, I take a deep breath, calm myself, and walk to the front of the conference room, standing in line with the other winners.

Luke begins handing out the awards.

When it's my turn, I lower my eyes, not looking at him.

"Keep up the good work," Luke says, handing me the certificate and bonus.

As I take them, he immediately lets go—no pause, not even for a second.

Then, he turns to the next person and says, "Keep up the good work."

His tone is exactly the same as what I just heard.

The second time I run into him is in the apartment building.

Dmitri hasn't bothered me again, so I've naturally moved back into my own place.

I'm waiting for the elevator, and when the doors open, Luke is standing inside.

Before I can react, he nods at me and walks out, passing by me like I'm just a neighbor.

Just like he promised: no more bothering me, and keeping his distance.

I step into the elevator and go to the fourth floor.

As I take out my keys and head towards apartment 401, I glance at the door of 402.

I once fantasized about us getting married, knocking down the wall between our apartments, and having the whole fourth floor to ourselves. Now, it's clear I'll never walk through the door of 402 again.

Despite my efforts to avoid running into Luke, our lives still overlap. After the New Year, I cross paths with him two or three more times in January.

After work, I go shopping or to the movies with some of my single colleagues. From a distance, they'll excitedly call out, "Hi, boss!"

In these moments, Luke glances at us, his eyes briefly scanning over us without any lingering. "Hello," he replies.

Then, he gives a polite smile and walks away.

All the past moments between us slip away from him like clear water, leaving no trace behind.