The moment I stepped into the hallway, I saw Jason carefully holding another woman in his arms—his ex-girlfriend and future secretary, Shairine.
Shairine was drunk, her body was soft as if it had no bones, leaning heavily against him.
Jason didn’t push her away. Instead, he held her tightly, as if afraid she might slip away.
Jason's deep, dark eyes showed a hint of anger mixed with concern—emotions he himself probably hadn’t realized.
Yves sauntered over, raising a brow as he teased, “Zoey, do you think those two might get back together?”
His voice wasn’t particularly loud, but it was enough for Jason to hear.
Jason looked up abruptly at Yves’s words. When his gaze fell on me standing not far away, a fleeting trace of guilt appeared in his eyes.
“I never thought about getting back with her,” he explained, his voice hurried. “She was just drunk...”
I smiled faintly and shook my head. “Jason, I understand. Shairine seems really drunk. You should take her home.”
He frowned slightly, seemingly displeased with how I addressed him, but he didn’t reject my suggestion.
As he led Shairine away, he even turned back to instruct Yves, “Don’t let her wander around too late. Take her home early.”