Chapter 182
Chapter 182:
“I’m serious. Shared taste buds? It’s a sign. Perfect match, guaranteed!” Sharon said, nudging Stella just enough that she tilted slightly toward William.
Startled, Stella sat up straight and gave Sharon a sharp look. “Sharon, please stop reading those fake online articles.” That was ridiculous.
Sharon, unfazed, turned to William and raised her brow. “You believe in that kind of stuff, sir?”
William’s lips curled in amusement.
He didn’t answer, but the way he chuckled made Stella want to melt into the floor.
He was her boss. Her salary literally depended on that man. If he thought she was entertaining some weird office romance fantasy, would she get fired?
Her face heated up, and she wanted to vanish.
But Sharon kept going. “So, sir… what kind of women do you like? What do you think of my friend—”
“Sharon!” Stella cut her off before she could finish, her voice tight. “The food we ordered is getting cold.”
Under the table, she yanked Sharon’s sleeve, shooting her a look of warning. “Enough. Don’t say another word. He’s my boss.”
“Boss?” Sharon blinked.
Stella spoke in a hushed tone, “Yes, so don’t say anything careless.”
Sharon knew better than to push further, so she simply arched a brow and kept quiet. Still, judging by how those two acted around each other, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something more was going on.
Once the dishes were brought out, they returned to their meal. The conversation faded into a calm, comfortable silence.
Each time William visited this spot, the flavors seemed to awaken pieces of his childhood—nostalgic and familiar, as if pulling him back in time.
Dining here had become something of a quiet ritual. And with every visit, he brought along a small hope tucked deep in his heart.
is your destination for fiction
Countless years and visits had passed, yet he still hadn’t seen the girl from long ago—the one whose small act had quietly reshaped the course of his life.
Without her presence back then, he wasn’t sure what kind of person he would have turned into.
Despite all his attempts over the years, she remained just out of reach, like a name whispered in the wind—impossible to trace.
Meanwhile, Marc stood at the edge of the sidewalk, his shiny black shoes tapping rhythmically against the ground.
The overcast sky hung low with the promise of rain, perfectly matching the heaviness clouding his mood.
He eyed the restaurant’s lively crowd, the air buzzing like a small street market. It had that old-fashioned charm, but it irritated him.
.
.
.