Chapter 3

Saul shook his hand, which had just been scalded by the hot coffee. Feigning ignorance, he asked, "Did you two get into a fight?"

Having heard the commotion, Sheila pushed me aside and rushed over to Saul. Her brows were furrowed as she dragged him toward the bathroom to rinse his scalded hand.

"Why did you slam the door so hard? Can you not be so crude?"

Even though she'd clearly heard what the others had said about me, she remained silent on that front and chose to berate me for being ill-mannered instead.

I was completely disillusioned. I went into the kitchen, boiled some water, and headed straight into the bathroom. Without hesitation, I poured the boiling hot water directly over Sheila's hand.

She jumped. "Have you lost your mind?"

"No, I'm just giving you a perfectly reasonable excuse to hold his hand," I replied.

After storming out, I immediately messaged a senior colleague in Belton. "I accept your invitation."

The night had grown late. A torrential downpour had begun, rendering me completely drenched. Soaked to the bone, I scrambled under an awning, only to stumble upon Sheila's department's gathering.

Like a masochist, I stared fixedly through the glass window.

Saul held a wine glass aloft. He shielded Sheila, who didn't drink, behind him, boldly fending off every toast that came her way.

Behind him, Sheila gazed at him like he was her hero.

She hated social events like this the most.

Back when I was trying to rent a cheap storefront for an auto repair shop to give her a better life, the landlord insisted on drinking with Sheila at the table. Despite my valiant attempts to drink on her behalf, she kept sulking with her back to me.

"I hate it when you act all humble, drinking on my behalf," she'd said.

I'd assumed it was simply her scholarly pride, but in reality, nothing I ever did was right in her eyes.

The rain had reached a feral intensity by the time the gathering ended. Saul and Sheila stood together at the entrance. Sheila's eyes shone as she reached out and caught the rain in her palm.

"Tell me, Saul, why does a drizzle fall gently while a heavy rain like this hits hard?"

They shared a smile before answering in unison, "Because a drizzle obeys Stokes' law while a heavy rain has a high Reynolds number!"

Sheila danced joyfully in the rain, clad in a white dress. Saul spread his arms to shield her from the rain.

I watched their interaction. I didn't understand what Stokes' law or Reynolds number meant. I had no way of sharing a connection with her on rainy days like this.

All I knew how to do, in moments like these, was stumble in her footsteps—footsteps that never stopped for me to catch up.

I could only ever tilt the umbrella toward her, letting half of my body get completely soaked in the process.

Clearly, we were very different people.

I stood up resolutely, covered in mud. I decided I didn't want to just leave like that. I wanted revenge!

When I reached home after a two-hour walk, Sheila finally called me again.

After I silenced her call, she texted me a simple, "You asked for this."

To her, me breaking up with her must have seemed like a long-overdue pushback after years of submission.

Her call had been an olive branch—one that I ignored.

When Saul walked into the auto repair shop, I was slightly taken aback.

"Check my car out, will you?"

I had no reason to refuse the money he was offering me.

Saul held out his arm and fiddled deliberately with his Cartier watch. "This watch costs just ten thousand dollars, but it was a birthday gift from Sheila. She'd saved up for ages just to get it for me. That's why I always wear it."

My hands stilled above my toolbag as I recalled that ridiculous ten-thousand-dollar entry on the ledger.

"So?"

"So, Sheila is always so generous with me because she knows I'm worth it. Deep down, she knows that she deserves a man like me—someone who can help her secure her future. Her talent and my wealth make us the perfect match, don't you think?"