28 In Love, Folly is Always Sweet

Gemma's POV

The next day, I return to work at the car dealership and once again see Luke's face.

"Good morning, boss."

"Good morning," he replies, nodding without expression as he brushes past me. It's as if the Luke who knelt down on one knee yesterday was just a figment of my imagination.

I guess he's given up. That's probably for the best.

I stay busy with work and manage to sell two cars in a day. Just before the end of my shift, I receive a phone call.

It's from an unknown number, but the voice on the other end sounds familiar, calm, and restrained, "Miss Dawson, could we meet in person?"

After hearing who it is, I stay silent for a few seconds, then firmly reject her, "I'm sorry, I have my own life now. I don't want to waste time."

She, along with Dmitri, is one of the last people on earth I'd want to meet again.

But Sophia insists, even changing the meeting place. "I can come to you," she says, then hangs up before I can respond.

When my shift ends and I step out of the dealership, she's already waiting outside. Sophia is wearing a baseball cap and a loose black trench coat, with barely any makeup on.

With the brim of her cap pulled low, she looks nothing like the arrogant Sophia who once publicly humiliated me in school.

But I still stop cautiously in my tracks.

She walks up to me and glances at my outfit and the dealership behind me. "You're a car saleswoman now?"

"Mhm," I reply, pausing briefly. "Are you here to mess up my life again?"

Sophia remains silent for a few seconds, her gaze falling to the ground. "No, I just... want to talk today."

Alright. What needs to be faced, must be faced.

We head to the café next door and sit in a quiet corner.

The waiter approaches. "What would you two like to drink?"

"Orange juice," Sophia says, turning to me. "And you?"

"I'm good. I'm in a hurry."

After the waiter leaves, the atmosphere turns quiet.

I break the silence first. "Go ahead, what do you want to talk about?"

Sophia's eyes wander over my face, studying me for a while before she finally says, "We haven't seen each other in four years."

"So?" I meet her gaze calmly.

Sophia presses her lips together. "Let's talk about Dmitri."

When Sophia showed up at the dealership, I had already guessed that Dmitri was the reason. What else could a wealthy woman like her and someone like me—a simple employee—talk about? Our only connection is that one man.

I let out a small laugh. "Before that, don't you think you owe me an apology? Your husband lied to me, pretending he was single. I was just the victim, but you destroyed my college life."

Sophia's expression turns a bit sour, but she forces a smile. "I really didn't know it at the time. You know how it is—men like Dmitri, so many women throw themselves at him."

The waiter interrupts her, bringing Sophia's orange juice.

She thanks him, takes a sip, then asks, "Did he ever contact you afterward?"

"I turned him down."

Sophia's eyes widen in surprise, filled with confusion and disbelief. Then, her expression shifts to one of helplessness and sadness.

"Yeah, one man's meat is another man's poison," she murmurs, lightly gripping her glass of orange juice.

"If that's all, I'll be going now." I stand up. "Of course, if you want to buy a car, feel free to come back and see me."

Just as I turn to leave, Sophia calls out from behind me.

I glance back. "Anything else?"

Sophia sniffs. "Don't you want to know why we got divorced?"

I pause for two seconds. "Dmitri was just an ex-boyfriend—no, not even that. He's just a liar. I really don't care much about a liar's life."

Sophia stares blankly at my face, as if lost in thought, or perhaps in a daze.

After a moment, she suddenly says. "Now I know why he liked you. He's never met a woman as stubborn as you. You make him feel like he needs to conquer you."

I frown slightly. That's just a man's twisted instinct—always wanting what they can't have.

"I was married to Dmitri for years. My family helped him a lot. But guess what happened after? My father passed away, and Dmitri divorced me." Sophia says softly.

I sit back down in my seat, shocked.

"So, he divorced you because of that?" I ask, astonished. Her father dies, and her husband, realizing her family can no longer benefit him, starts to resent her?

What a cold and selfish man.

"He says our divorce had nothing to do with my dad. He just couldn't stand my temper anymore, that I acted like a shrew and embarrassed him."

Sophia lets out a bitter laugh. I can't tell if she's mocking Dmitri or herself.

"I've liked Dmitri since elementary school. I'm ten years younger than him, but he always played with me when we were kids, saying I was his little shadow, braver than most boys. Honestly, I wasn't brave; I just wanted his attention, to earn his approval. Before I married him, I had my own career. But for him, I gave it all up to become a housewife, taking care of him in every possible way—cooking, cleaning, everything. And in the end, this is how it all turned out."

Sophia's eyes are wet, but she stubbornly refuses to let the tears fall. She sniffs, and her hand reaches across the table, gripping mine tightly.

"Miss Dawson, I know I have a bad temper, I'm spoiled, and back then, I acted out of anger and made your life miserable. I'm sorry, okay? Could you help me persuade him to come back? I'll give you anything you want."

Her hands are cold, but her grip is strong, each knuckle pressing tightly.

We stay in this awkward posture, and I meet her eyes, unsure of what to say.

The silence is broken by a large hand landing on my shoulder. I look up to see Jacob sitting down beside me.

He wraps his arm around my shoulder, glances at Sophia, and then turns to ask me, "Is this your friend?"

I hesitate for two seconds, then nod awkwardly.

Sophia speaks up, "And you two are...?"

I pull my hand from Sophia's grip and introduce him, "This is my... um, boyfriend."

I helped Jacob yesterday, now it's his turn to help me.

Sophia eyes Jacob, frowning slightly. "A coffee shop employee?"

"I'm the heir to this coffee shop chain. Just getting some experience at the ground level," Jacob lies without a blink, not mentioning how his father disowned him just yesterday.

Sophia looks back at me. "He's so young?"

"Well, um, cradle-snatcher love is in style now," I say.

"Exactly," Jacob adds, flicking his hair lightly. "Once a man hits 25 years old, his performance in bed starts to decline. It's totally normal for Gemma to like me."

Both Sophia and I are momentarily stunned.

But I quickly regain my composure and focus on the situation at hand.

I turn to Sophia and say, "So, I'm sorry, but I really can't help you. My boyfriend would get upset."

"Yes, I would get upset," Jacob chimes in.

Later this night, we head out for drinks again.

I sit in the corner on a high stool, quietly sipping my drink, my legs swinging in the air.

The moment Jacob walks into the bar, every girl there seems to notice him. After collecting countless notes with phone numbers and politely declining dates each time, he sits down next to me, nudging me with his elbow.

"Hey, how was my performance as your boyfriend? What score do I get?"

"100 points," I say, gulping down more of my drink.

"Then why don't you look happy? You've been quiet all night."

I glance at the row of empty glasses on the table and sigh softly. "I'm just thinking... I've had some bad luck in life."

"Why's that?"

I point at my face. "Do I look like a pizza or something? Why does everyone feel like they can take a bite out of me as they pass by?"

This world really is wild sometimes.

"And why is it that I've been fooled twice in a row? Do all men come out of the womb knowing how to lie?" I say, hiccuping after too much alcohol.

Then I lay my head down on the table, burying it in my arms.

Love is the biggest lie in the world. If I had the time, I'd rather just sleep more.

"You've only failed twice," Jacob's voice floats over.

"Twice is more than enough. I'm tired," I mutter, my head still resting on the table.

"But what if the third time, you just stay put, and someone comes to love you?" Jacob says.

I pause for a moment. Then I hear him say, "Gemma, I like you. Let me love you, okay?"

I sit up abruptly, shocked, and in my panic, I slam my head into Jacob's chin.

As I rub my forehead and Jacob rubs his chin, both of us groaning in pain, I suddenly remember someone once telling me that drinking too much with the same guy wasn't a good idea.

I have to admit, he was right.

The next day, I head to work. After finishing a home delivery service, I return to the dealership, and it's buzzing with excitement inside.

I casually ask a colleague, "What's going on?"

The colleague turns and, spotting me, grins. "We were just talking about you! Someone sent you flowers—a huge bunch of champagne roses."

I'm surprised. Who would send me flowers?

My colleague continues, "You should go take a look. There are over two hundred flowers! They're covering your entire desk!"

...

In my heels, I walk over to my desk and almost trip when I see the roses.

Because nestled among the roses is a card that reads: *In love, folly is always sweet.*

Signed: Jacob.

I grit my teeth. I now have an sweeter idea—like, for example, wringing Jacob's neck.