“It’s fine. I’m an adult now; I can manage myself,” I replied, both to reassure him and myself.
“Grace, I’ll come to the penthouse,” he said hurriedly. “I’ll explain everything later.”
Explain what? More excuses? More lies?
I ended the call without a word, muttering to myself, “Unfortunately, I’m not in the penthouse anymore.”
Later that evening, I called Tobias, who had returned to the penthouse. “Did Lewis come looking for me?”
“Nope. It’s just me and my freedom now that you’re gone,” he joked.
“Great,” I replied, laughing weakly. “You can finally bring back all your usual women.”
“Ha, very funny,” Tobias shot back, but I hung up before he could nag me further.
Feeling restless, I stepped onto the balcony and scrolled through Instagram.
My heart sank when I came across a new post featuring Katrina and Lewis.
It was a photo of a beautiful bouquet with a man’s silhouette behind it. Though his face was not visible, I recognized Lewis immediately.
What enraged me more was the caption, [After fifteen years, I return to you. And here, the flower blooms, a welcome in all its glory.]
Disgusted, I shut my phone and forced myself to focus on my college assignments.