Chapter 206
Cradling a cup in her hand, Layla made her way to the break room to fill it with water. The chill of the season was beginning to creep in, and Samuel's gentle reminder to drink warm water each day echoed in her mind. As she filled her cup, her thoughts were consumed by a design she had been mulling over.
"Watch out, you're making a mess!" a voice, strained with tension, called out. Jane's hand darted out to shut off the water dispenser. "Layla, did you scald yourself?" she asked, her eyes filled with worry.
Layla, who was more accustomed to Jane's frosty demeanor, felt a pang of discomfort under her sudden caring gaze. She gently shook her head, assuring her, "No, I'm fine."
"Do you drink coffee? I can grind you a cup. I have some exquisite Malaysian white coffee beans a friend gifted me; they're far superior to the regular black ones."
"I'm not a fan of coffee."
"Ah, right. I don't recall ever seeing you with a cup. But you're young, full of vitality and endurance, unlike me. I'm over thirty, and I absolutely need my daily dose of caffeine to function. You know how it is, we designers are always swamped with work. I toil away at my designs every single day."
"Many designers my age start to slack off, but not me, I'm incredibly driven. I even bagged the Tokyo Design Award last year." Jane's intentions were transparent to Layla, who had no interest in indulging her.
"Congratulations," Layla responded, attempting to make her exit.
"Layla, are you in love? You look radiant today, your skin looks as soft as a peeled egg, it makes me envious. If I had skin like yours, I'd wake up smiling from my dreams. How do you usually care for your skin? Any skincare products you'd recommend?"
"I don't really do much for skincare."
"Figures, youth is your asset. Plus, you have good genes. Even without makeup or skincare, you're still so beautiful. I also admire your sense of style. How about we go shopping together sometime? Oh, wait, we're getting off work early today. How about today? I'll treat you to dinner at a fancy restaurant."
"No, thank you."
"You must!" Jane stepped in front of Layla, blocking her path. Her eyes were alight with enthusiasm and a fervent desire to please. "Layla, I was wrong about what happened before. I was influenced by Gioanna, but I actually have nothing against you. On the contrary, the first time I saw you, I thought you were incredibly beautiful, and I felt like we were destined to be friends."
Layla felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She had a strong aversion to people who presented one face to you and another behind your back.
"Layla, let's be good friends, okay?"
"I'm here to work, not to make best friends. As long as you, Jane, focus all your thoughts on your designs, your work won't be affected," Layla clarified to Jane before making her exit.
As Layla's retreating figure disappeared from the break room, a voice called out, "Layla, I always knew you had the biggest heart; you're the best."
Jane's face contorted into a frown. This was the first time she had ever tried so hard to please someone, and it was humiliating. Despite her efforts, Jane's heart was filled with unease. What if Layla was just like her, presenting a different face behind her back and plotting against her?
Later in the afternoon, when a new colleague was due to arrive, Susan summoned Layla to accompany her downstairs to meet them. The two women stepped into the elevator, enveloped in silence. Layla found herself staring at the descending numbers on the elevator panel, at a loss for words.
Susan was impartial and easy to work with, but there was no sense of intimacy between them. She was the epitome of a strong woman, reserved yet efficient in her work. Layla wasn't accustomed to this silence but, despite racking her brain, couldn't come up with a suitable topic. Susan was seven years her senior, a precedent of sorts, making interactions with her less casual and free than with a peer like Alice.
The shrill ring of a cellphone shattered the silence between Susan and Layla.
Layla let out a quiet sigh of relief, her breath barely stirring the air around her.
Susan's features softened as she spoke, "Victoria Sinclair, is the child asleep? I fear I won't be able to make it home until eight tonight. Please give Olivia her bath, and I'll join her for bedtime."
She paused, her voice a tender whisper, "My love?"
"Mommy misses you too."
"Be good. Mommy will return after work."
With a soft "Muah," Susan pressed a kiss to the phone. Her smile was gentle, a mother's love lending her an unparalleled warmth.
"You have a child?" Layla queried, her tone filled with surprise.
"Indeed. Three years old," Susan confirmed, a hint of extra tenderness tugging at the corners of her mouth as she spoke of her child.
"That's wonderful."
"Yes. My daughter is exceptionally well-behaved," Susan's smile returned, her teeth a stark white contrast to her lips.
Layla's gaze drifted to Susan's ring finger, finding it bare. She had never heard Susan mention a husband or children at work, leading her to assume that she was single. After all, in this modern era, the number of single women nearing their thirties was not insignificant.
Susan gave Layla the impression that she wouldn't voluntarily bring up her child, but she wasn't concealing it either.
The elevator came to a halt at the lobby.
Susan was the first to step out, but she quickly retreated, accidentally stepping on Layla's foot in the process.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Susan responded, her shoulders tense and her back turned to the elevator, an air of unease surrounding her. Layla's gaze shifted to the window, where a tall man, standing at nearly six foot three, clad in a slate-gray suit, passed by. A beautiful woman with curly hair was hot on his heels in her high heels, trying to link arms with him. The man seemed indifferent, briskly pulling his hand away.
Layla remembered how Susan had seemed to be avoiding someone during their last conversation. Could it have been this man?
"They're gone," Layla announced as their figures disappeared through the doorway. Susan's tense expression finally relaxed, her heartbeat gradually returning to its normal pace.
She wondered why he had returned after years in Europe. She hadn't expected her first sight of him after four years to be in the company of another woman.
What woman? She was his wife. They were the strangers now.
Susan's bitter smile was fleeting as she straightened her back and exited the elevator with her usual poise.
Night had fallen by the time Samuel returned home, his clothes reeking of alcohol. He was late. He pulled Layla, freshly bathed, into his embrace, showering her with fervent kisses.
"You... You haven't showered yet," she murmured.
"Dirty," she teased playfully.
"Have you been drinking?"
"Umm... Don't..."
Layla's petite figure was gently laid on the bed, her bathrobe loosening with the movement. As Samuel collapsed beside her, a wave of emptiness washed over Layla.
'Is this it?' Her delicate brows furrowed in thought.
"Do you have a problem with that?" Samuel's deep chuckle echoed, his face handsome even in his drunken state.
"You're doing this on purpose," Layla's eyes sparkled with desire, her demeanor swayed by Samuel's kisses.
Propped lazily on one elbow, Samuel's hand traced soft patterns on Layla's smooth skin. "Baby, I feel the same as you, but remember, you said we can't break our vow for the first three months. I'm just following your rules, can't blame me for having thoughts."
Layla shot him a look and pushed his hand away, feigning indifference. "I don't want it at all."
Internally, she thought, Revenge is a dish best served cold. Just wait. Next time, she would make sure he suffered a hundredfold.
"Alright, how could I bear to make my treasure uncomfortable? I'll be gentle..." Samuel promised.
"Samuel Holland, stop it," Layla admonished him, his laughter filling the room. When she called him by his full name, she sounded like a ruffled kitten, utterly endearing.
"Did you investigate Gioanna?" she asked.