"Sweetie, did you bring me here just because you felt sorry for me?" My cheeks flushed, and in my semi-drunken state, my eyes gleamed as I looked up at him.
"Yesterday you called me sir, now I'm your sweetie?"
I heard him chuckle softly, unsure if he was mocking me or laughing at my pathetic state.
"You don't like it?" I tilted my head and looked at him. "You still hasn't answered my question."
"I don't sleep with women who are engaged."
I grumbled in protest. "Who said I'm engaged?"
I wasn't sure when my hand slipped under his jacket, but he stopped me.
He held my wrist firmly, not enough to hurt, but it was painful.
His voice was low and restrained. "Then what is this?"
"Oh."
An engagement ring.
I sank back like a deflated balloon.
My head throbbed.
I picked up my phone and habitually opened my WhatsApp, seeing Conrad's name pinned at the top and the empty chat.
Susanna had sent me a picture of a stained shirt.
It was Conrad's birthday last year, and I had it custom-made overseas.
"Sharon, Conrad said this was your birthday gift to him. I didn't know it couldn't be machine washed..."
I tossed my phone aside, rubbing my temples in frustration.