CHAPTER FOUR

~NELLA~

I had just rushed home to change for work, the events of the night still buzzing in her mind. As I glanced at her phone, i noticed a series of messages from Ashley, each one checking in, making sure i was okay. Without hesitation, i quickly typed out a response, a cheeky grin on her face as she recalled the night. “He was damn hot, and I enjoyed every bit of it, for real”—she hit send, adding a laughing emoji at the end.

The office, however, was a different story today.

When I arrived at work, I was immediately hit with an odd tension in the air. Something was off. People were whispering in hushed tones, the usual hum of the office feeling more like an anxious murmur. As I walked to my desk, I overheard a conversation about the company being sold. My heart skipped a beat. I hadn’t been prepared for this.

I walked up to my boss at her office, who was sitting at her desk, her expression unusually serious.

“Ma’am, what's going on?” I asked, trying to sound casual though my mind raced. “I keep hearing something about a sale. Is it true?”

My boss gave a small nod, her lips pressed into a tight line. “Yeah,” she said softly, glancing around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “The company has been bought. A new group has taken over. They’ll be making changes soon. We don’t know much more yet.” “But how?”, I asked with confusion on my face.

“Listen, Nella, I’ve been trying to handle this on my own because I didn’t want to make you all panic, but... I just couldn’t manage it anymore,” Miss Taylor said, her voice tinged with guilt.

“So, what happens now? And who bought the company?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.

“It was bought by the second-largest cosmetics company, Elevé. They’ll be keeping some of our staff, but I’m being transferred to the headquarters in Chicago. The list of those being retained will be uploaded to the group this evening,” she explained, looking genuinely sorry.

“Do I need to worry?” I asked, my heart starting to race.

“Well... I don’t think so, Nella. Your name should be at the top of the list. I’m the one selecting the twenty people who’ll be retained,” she reassured me, though I could see the uncertainty in her eyes.

Just when I thought my day couldn’t get worse, my phone started buzzing incessantly with calls from Sam.

Maya appeared beside me, a smug grin on her face. “Look, Nella, I’m not going to ask you to leave Sam, but now that you know the truth, the choice is yours,” she said, almost gleefully.

“Maya, please. I’m not ready for this,” I snapped, my voice tight. “You can have him. That’s all you’ll ever have— a used product.”

Her face twisted in anger. “Yen, yen, yen... you’re just jealous because Sam chose me. He’s been using you as his cash cow, so deal with it,” she shot back, her words stinging.

Funny, though—I wasn’t even hurt anymore. My mind was far too occupied with the looming uncertainty of my job. Would I be retained? Or would I be left out in the cold?

It’s been a week now since the company was sold, and still, the list of retained employees hasn’t been released. I’ve started looking for new jobs, just in case. But it’s been tough. My dad’s scandal—the accusations of raping his secretary and embezzling funds—has been a cloud hanging over me, tarnishing my reputation. No matter how qualified I am, no one’s willing to hire me. Every application feels like a rejection before it’s even read.

It was a Friday evening when Ashley and I went out for drinks. My phone rang. It was one of my former colleagues asking if I had received an email about resuming work. I checked my inbox in a panic, only to find that my name wasn’t on the list of retained employees. Worse, I hadn’t even received an email. I felt my stomach drop. Heartbroken, I drank myself into a haze that night.

The following weeks were a blur. I spent my days aimlessly applying for jobs, occasionally going with Payson to her little bakery just to pass the time.

Two months passed. Sam and Maya had moved out, their presence fading from my life like a bad dream. My reality, however, felt like a broken window, shattered beyond repair.

One afternoon, as I was hanging out with Payson, I received a call from a flower shop just down the street. They were looking for a receptionist. It wasn’t glamorous, but I needed something to fill the void. I went in for an interview, and though I wasn’t thrilled, I accepted the position.

One evening, after a solo date with Ashley, we decided to match our outfits for fun. While we waited for our ride, a man suddenly rushed past us, snatching my bag.

I screamed, “My bag! Someone, please help!”

Without thinking, Ashley and I chased after the thief. But before we could catch up, another young man sprinted past us, closing the distance with surprising speed.

“Stop him!” Ashley shouted, but our breaths were coming in ragged gasps.

We were just about to give up when the young man reappeared, holding my bag. He offered it back to me, looking calm despite the chaos that had just unfolded.

“Here you go,” he said, his voice steady, even as his eyes flicked to his phone.

I was still catching my breath. “Thank you so much,” I gasped, reaching for the bag.

Ashley nodded, still breathless. “Yeah, seriously. Thanks!”

The man—Ethan, as it turned out—glanced at his phone again, looking slightly anxious. “Sorry, I have to take this call,” he said, stepping aside to answer.

Ashley nudged me, an impish grin forming on her face. “Girl... did you see that? We need to get his number!”

“No, Ashley. Let’s just go,” I said, trying to pull her away from the situation before it became even more awkward.

But Ashley wasn’t easily deterred. “Girl, he just helped us! How are we going to see him again if we don’t get his number?”

Before I could protest, Ethan, clearly in a hurry, returned to us.

“Sorry, ladies. I’ve really got to run. Something urgent came up,” he said, his voice apologetic but insistent.

“Oh, no problem. See you around,” I said quickly, trying not to make it weird.

“See you when I see you!” Ethan called back, his voice warm as he jogged down the street, disappearing into the night.

Ashley groaned, clearly frustrated. “Ugh, how are we supposed to see him again if we didn’t even get his number?”

I chuckled, already walking toward the cab. “Girl, if you’d asked for his number, you’d look desperate. Let’s just go home. It’s late.”

A month later, life was slowly moving on, though it still felt like I was treading water. I was working at the flower shop when a young man came in, looking for a rose bouquet.

“I’m sorry if I’m a bit early, but I really need a nice bouquet,” he said gently. His voice had a certain warmth, and he seemed genuinely excited.

One of my colleagues helped him with his order, and as he was about to leave, he turned and tipped us all.

“Wish me luck. I’m proposing to my girlfriend today,” he said, a beaming smile on his face. I could tell he was completely in love.

“Best of luck, sir,” I said softly, almost as a whisper, watching him walk out with a sense of purpose.

The day went on smoothly, but as the evening settled in, I was on the phone and walking down the street to catch the bus. To my surprise, I saw the young man from earlier— the one who’d bought the bouquet— standing on the corner, just a few feet away. My heart skipped a beat. Love had always fascinated me, especially when it seemed to be working out.

I quickened my pace, excited to see him again.

“Hi!” I called, smiling as I approached.

He was looking pale but I was just happy to see him to congratulate him.

“Hey, excuse me,” I called, rushing toward him.

He looked up, his face a mixture of confusion and surprise. “Yes?”

“Oh, I guess you don’t remember me,” I said, flashing my signature warm smile.

Before I could explain further, his expression shifted, and he quickly snapped, “If you’re not going to introduce yourself properly, then just leave me alone. I’m really not in the mood for this.”

I was surprised but then again I tried to recover. “Wait! I’m Nella from the flower shop! You were there this morning, buying flowers for your proposal. I just wanted to say congratulations.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, but his demeanor was still distant. “Oh, right. Sorry if I was rude. I wasn’t in the best headspace.” He turned to walk away, but then hesitated, glancing over his shoulder. “I just… I need some time alone.”

I stood still, watching him leave, feeling a mix of confusion and empathy.

A few weeks later, my friendship with Ashley and Ethan was growing into something deeper. We became closer, spending more time together, drinking and hanging out either at Ashley's place or mine. Yet, for some reason, we never went to Ethan’s house.

Then, one afternoon after I’d returned from grabbing lunch, I was surprised to find the man from the other night waiting for me. I hadn’t expected him to show up again, especially after our last interaction when he’d been rude to me just for trying to offer my congratulations.

He smiled, reaching out his hand for a shake. “I’m Gray. And if you don’t mind, I’d love to talk with you outside for a moment.”

“Sure,” I replied, feeling the sudden shift in the air as we walked outside together.

“I’m really sorry about the other night. I wasn’t in the right frame of mind. My fiancée… well, she rejected my proposal,” Gray confessed, his voice low with regret.

I gasped, her heart going out to him. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. What happened? Why?” I asked gently.

“I don’t know. But I’d like to make it up to you. How about dinner this weekend? Let me apologize properly.” His eyes glimmered with a hint of mischief as he gave me a shy, but charming wink.

I smiled, her heart fluttering unexpectedly. “Okay, sure. I’ll give you a call when I’m free.”

That weekend, we met for dinner at a cozy, upscale restaurant. Over the course of their meal, we shared stories—his failed proposal, my past relationships, and other little details that began to bridge the gap between us.

By the end of the evening, I had confided in Ashley, telling her everything that had happened. Ashley, however, wasn’t thrilled that I was talking about her ex and failed relationships with a virtual stranger.

“We’re just friends, Ash,” I defended herself. “He’s been through a lot, and he’s just looking for someone to talk to.”

After that dinner, the meetings between Gray and I became more frequent. He would pop into the flower shop to say hi, often buying me the most exquisite bouquets of pink roses—flowers I knew were far beyond what a simple customer might spend.

My first visit to Gray’s house was a turning point. He had invited me to see his photography studio, and I was stunned to learn that Gray was a talented photographer. After a glass of red wine and a few candid shots, the atmosphere shifted. The subtle tension between them was palpable. As the R&B music flowed softly in the background, Gray led me back into the living room, our gazes locked in a silent exchange.

He leaned in slowly, his hand gently finding its way to my neck, pulling me closer. The wine glass in his hand trembled slightly as our faces neared, and I could feel the heat between us rising.

With a soft smile, Gray’s lips met mine—tentative at first, then deeper, as our bodies instinctively moved closer. My heart raced, my mind momentarily blank as I kissed him back with growing intensity. I could feel every beat of my heart, every sensation heightening as the kiss deepened.