Watching her flushed, delicate face, Bert thought to himself that he truly must be crazy. He couldn’t believe how impulsively he had kissed her just now—he had even thought that if her mother saw them, so be it. He would simply admit everything.
He would tell her mother how much he loved her daughter, how he wanted to talk about marriage, to spend his life with her, to protect her so that her future days would hold no grievance or pain.
Bert knew this loss of reason was pure impulsiveness. He couldn’t even rember the last ti he had acted this way. For so many years, his life had been governed by restraint and self-discipline; this kind of reckless urge felt almost foreign to him.
But it felt wonderful.
In the end, Renata bought the dress. The group spent the entire morning shopping, and at noon, Lilian pulled Catherine along to have lunch with Renata—Bert’s treat.
Catherine and Renata had no desire to join them for this lunch, but Lilian was simply too enthusiastic, inviting them again and again until they had no choice but to dine together with the siblings.
Bert had already received a protesting phone call from Morrison by lunchti.
"Are you seriously dragging a pregnant woman along to help you chase a woman—and for an entire morning at that? Don’t you feel even a little ashad?"
Sundays were originally ant to be Morrison and Lilian’s ti alone—strictly speaking, their ti as three, counting the little one growing in Lilian’s belly. Morrison was usually busy with work, so he made a point of dedicating his weekends entirely to Lilian. But just like that, one phone call from Bert, and Lilian had left him behind and gone off.
Now it was almost noon, and she still hadn’t co back.
Morrison had called Lilian earlier. She had rely said, I’m busy helping my brother build rapport with Catherine—stop calling and interrupting , and then hung up.
It infuriated Morrison to no end. She was his wife, pregnant with his child—how could he not worry about her? And now she was saying his calls were an interruption?
Left with no other choice, Morrison went straight to Bert. Yet in the face of Morrison’s complaints, Bert felt not the slightest bit guilty.
"Watch your wording," Bert replied calmly. "I didn’t drag Lilian here—she ca of her own free will. Besides, pregnant won are supposed to get more exercise. I’m doing this for her own good."
"You told her you were going to see Catherine. Of course she was more than willing to co along," Morrison snapped, exasperated. "Don’t you know how badly she wants you to be happy already?"
"But Lilian told she also wanted to go shopping," Bert said lightly. "A cold front’s coming in a few days. She wanted to buy winter clothes for her parents—and for yours."
That single remark neatly silenced all of Morrison’s complaints.
When it ca to verbal sparring, Morrison was formidable in the business world, but against Bert he always ended up conceding defeat. Bert knew Morrison’s one true weakness was Lilian—and he was exceptionally good at using it.
Just like now. The mont Bert ntioned that Lilian wanted to buy winter clothes for Morrison’s parents, Morrison lost any remaining temper he had. If anything, his affection for Lilian only deepened.
When a couple moves from pure love into marriage, what they are nurturing is no longer just a relationship between two people, but a bond between two families—his family and hers.
Morrison felt fortunate to have t a sensible, considerate woman like Lilian. He was also grateful to have such an understanding mother. Since ancient tis, the relationship between a mother-in-law and daughter-in-law had been a notorious problem, yet in his family it seed nonexistent. They got along so well that at tis he felt like he was the outsider.
And so, in this round, he lost the argunt once again—but lost it in exceptionally good spirits.
Before lunch was served, Renata said she needed to use the restroom. Lilian imdiately stood up with perfect tact and looped her arm through Renata’s.
"Perfect timing—I wanted to go too. Let’s go together, Auntie."
And just like that, she led Renata away, leaving only Catherine and Bert behind at the table.
Catherine stared at Bert with undisguised wariness. Throughout the entire morning of shopping, aside from that one kiss, there had been no interaction between them at all—not even an exchange of glances. Catherine had deliberately avoided any kind of engagent with him.
Bert looked at her, amused.
"Why are you looking at like that?" he asked. "Do you think I’m going to eat you alive?"
When he smiled, fine lines ford at the corners of his eyes. Yet to Catherine, those faint creases felt like marks left by ti itself—sothing steady, sothing reassuring, sothing safe.
Faced with his teasing, Catherine said nothing. She didn’t know what she was supposed to say.
It was Bert who spoke again.
"By now, this counts as having t your family, doesn’t it? When you get back, find a chance to ask your mother what she thinks of ."
His remark about "eting the family" left Catherine torn between laughter and helplessness. He really did know how to inflate his own role. From Renata’s perspective, after all, she had spent the entire day chatting warmly with Lilian—Bert had rely existed as Lilian’s brother, nothing more.
If she were to go ho and deliberately ask Renata what she thought of Lilian’s brother, Renata would definitely sense that sothing was off.
After thinking it over for a mont, Catherine looked at him and finally spoke.
"Let’s talk another day."
The relationship between them had beco increasingly hard to define. They truly needed an opportunity to sit down and talk things through properly.
She wanted to know what he was really planning when it ca to their relationship. She wanted to hear his honest feelings. She needed a conversation like this to decide whether she should accept what was growing between them—though, in truth, she had already begun to accept him without even realizing it.
"Alright."
Bert agreed readily.
"You decide the ti and the place."
"Okay."
Catherine nodded. She thought the subject should end there, but instead he leaned forward slightly and, with a faint smile, made another suggestion.
"Why don’t we talk in my office tomorrow?"
Catherine, "..."
Hadn’t he just said the ti and place were up to her? And what did it even an to discuss sothing so personal in his office?
"An office is for work..." she said, using that excuse to turn him down. More importantly, she simply wasn’t ready yet—she didn’t know when she would be ready to have that conversation.
Bert straightened up and didn’t press the matter any further. Just then, Lilian and Renata returned from the restroom, and the topic could only be dropped.
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