At that moment, Gregory fully understood how Anathca felt when he saw him and Natalie together. It was like a spear through
his chest.
He said dispassionately to Louie, “Have the front desk give us a room on a different floor.”
Louie was a little surprised. “The fact that you ended up on the same floor as Anathea is practically fate. Shouldn’t you make the most out of this instead of letting your big chance slip away?”
It certainly didn’t sound like something the usually confident and aggressive Gregory would do.
“She probably doesn’t want to see me right now.” Gregory withdrew his gaze. “Haven’t you realized how different she is now than before?”
“True.” Louie nodded. They’d actually swung by the Floristry World Cup and watched Anathea emerge as the champion from the second–floor VIP lounge.
The Anathea they’d seen at the Floristry World Cup
different from the one Louie remembered.
She had been swift and decisive when choosing flowers that fit the given theme, almost as if she’d already conjured up an image of her final work seconds after the theme had been announced.
Even when her competitor had beaten her to the flowers with colors that were vital to the theme, Anathea thought on her feet and tweaked her final design. In the end, the work she presented was met with a chorus of gasps and praises from the audience.
Throughout the entire competition, Anathea hadn’t fumbled or panicked once. It was as if she’d seen everything coming, like winning first place and getting the trophy was already an expected outcome for her.
This Anathea, who boasted unwavering confidence and moved with such surety, was starkly different from the Anathea who had been trapped and brooding in Sinclair Villa months ago.
Louie didn’t have much interest in artistic competitions such as the Floristry World Cup, but the moment he’d seen Anathea’s final floral design, he’d shot to his feet in
awe.
Unlike the slew of floral arrangements that featured more straightforward, bolder designs, Anathea’s work emphasized modern and subtle elements with a poetic touch. The deliberate negative spaces, in particular, left much to the audience’s imagination and interpretation.
Anathea’s work was, undoubtedly, the star of the show. It was like a breath of fresh air, a clean slate among the riot of colors of the competing works around it.
Upon closer inspection, one could even see how the sun played off and brought out the fullness of the colors of her floral arrangement.
Her arrangement was a delectable art piece that stole the spotlight with each viewing angle offering a different experience.
It was then that Louie knew Anathea would win the Floristry World Cup.
She’d named her work “The Caged Bird Now Soars Free“. The meaning behind the name was self–explary.
It was also precisely why Gregory would rather keep his identity hidden even when he’d shown up beside Anathea and ridden the same elevator with her.
Louie wheeled Gregory into the presidential suite, which boasted three rooms and a living area.
Gregory coughed a few times, earning a solemn lecture from Louie
“You just had to come all the way here for a meeting and to drop by Anathea’s competition, even when you had surgery not too long ago. Did the doctor’s orders mean anything to you?
“Are you looking to land yourself in the emergency room again? You’d better take it easy and get a whole lot of rest, or I’ll tie
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you to your bed and keep you there for good!”
Gregory’s bloodless lips stretched into a wry smile. “Okay.”
Only then did Louie’s face soften. He turned to pour a glass of water for Gregory.
Gregory eased himself off the wheelchair and onto the couch tucked by the window. Grendova’s dazzling night scene lay beyond the window, yet he sat on the other side of the glass, leaning into the couch as a forlorn look filled his dark eyes.
He wordlessly picked up his phone and unlocked the screen, but he didn’t text anyone. Instead, his finger hovered over the profile picture in the top left corner.
The conversation remained the same as it had been three months ago when he’d wished Anathea safe travels. She hadn’t replied to him, and he couldn’t see any updates on her Instagram since. He had no idea if she’d blocked him.
The moonlight filtered through the sheer drapes and cast its silvery rays on Gregory, illuminating the knobs in his long, slender fingers. He pursed his lips, resting his thumb on the conversation pulled up on his screen, but did not move it.
Anathea’s darkened gaze and bleeding wrists flashed in his mind, the crimson so vivid that it was jarring. His breath hitched at the memory.
Just then, Louie handed him the glass of water.
Louie had, of course, seen the longing and dilemma in Gregory’s gaze. He pointed out exasperatedly, “Go fight for her and win her back if you can’t let her go, man. What good will come from you sitting around here moping?”
To think that Gregory had once said Anathea easily got into a brooding mood, only to dwell in melancholy himself now.
If Louie were honest, he thought Gregory’s brooding nature and pessimism were even worse.
