A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

Matilda awoke the next day with a sense of anticipation, knowing that she had been assigned to greet a client at her studio. She put extra care into her appearance, dabbing on some lipstick and donning a thick trench coat before stepping out the

door.

Upon arrival, she caught Hala eyeing her with a playful smirk. “Wow, if I were a guy, I’d totally fall for you.”

With a chuckle, Matilda asked, “What time’s the client due?”

“One in the afternoon.” Hala slid a cup of instant coffee across the desk to Matilda with a wink. “Your daily fix. No more fear of dropping dead from those late nights.”

Clad in pajamas, Yoshi roamed the studio, misting a plant here and tidying a desk

there. Property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Hala explained that Yoshi often stayed overnight due to work, hence his perennial pajama attire. Matilda couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of Yoshi’s dinosaur hoodie, complete with a mouth agape on the hood and a little tail dragging behind him.

“No more watering, man,” Luna called out as she walked in. “You’ve already drowned four cacti this month. I’m begging you, think about the cacti’s feelings for once, not just your own.”

Orson was the last to clock in, floating into work as if on a cloud, sporting sunglasses that made him resemble some sort of mad professor obsessed with his research. He crashed onto his desk with a loud thud.

Matilda was startled, rushing over to check on

was already sprawled out, eyes shut, slipping. By the time she arrived, Orson

“What’s gotten into him?”

into power nap mode.

“Oh, just his routine,” Baxter said with a dismissive wave. “He does this every day. Charges up now, wakes up later, and then he’s all work.”

“Different circadian rhythm,” Luna shrugged, pointing at Yoshi. “Look at that geek, up all night and still so chipper. Finds time to overwater plants, too. Other people’s plants die of thirst; ours are practically victims of a flood.”

Yoshi continued his morning stretches in his onesie, the tail wagging as he exercised. “Gotta keep up my hobbies,” he said. “Otherwise, I can’t code.”

Matilda thought that it must have been fate that brought together a group with such peculiar habits.

When one o’clock rolled around, and the client was due, Baxter gave Matilda an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “The studio’s retirement fund is in your hands.”

With a mix of nervousness and anticipation, Matilda waited until 1:20 PM, when the client finally arrived. She looked up to greet them, but the words froze on her lips.

Yvan stood before her, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit that accentuated his refined features. Carl trailed behind him, nodding a silent greeting to Matilda, who was still frozen in place.

Yvan sat across from her, a sardonic smile playing on his lips. “Surprised?”

His familiar tone of mockery made Matilda involuntarily shiver.

Why did Yvan have to haunt her life so persistently? Why was it that she always seemed to run into him when she least expected it?

Seeing the distaste and resistance on Matilda’s face, Yvan realized for the first time just how much a simple frown could wound someone.