Orabela stumbled into her small apartnt late at night, every muscle in her body screaming with exhaustion. She dropped her bag by the couch and collapsed onto the couch, burying her face into the worn cushions.
A sob escaped her lips, followed by a steady stream of tears that she could no longer hold back.
"I can’t believe my life has co to this," she whispered hoarsely, her voice cracking under the strain of her emotions. Lying on her stomach, she clutched a pillow tightly, as if it could absorb the pain and frustration she felt.
Once a revered princess, her days had been filled with admiration, luxury, and respect. But now, in the cold, unfeeling world of the sales departnt, she was just another cog in the machine—scolded for minor mistakes, overlooked, and treated like she didn’t matter.
"How I wish I could change everything? But will it be as simple as it seems?" Orabela murmured and sat up. She wiped her tears away with the back of her palms though the ache in her chest remained. Reaching for her phone, she stared at the screen.
"Should I ask soone from my old circle for a job?" she muttered, scrolling through her contacts. "At least I wouldn’t be treated like a nobody."
Her thumb hovered over a few nas. But as she scrolled, doubt crept in her.
"Kylie," she sighed, her lips curling into a bitter smile. "She’s a nightmare. Even if she offered a job in her father’s company, she’d never let forget I owe her. She’d humiliate at every turn." Orabela shook her head, quickly moving past Kylie’s na.
She kept scrolling, but the longer she searched, the more disheartened she beca. Hundreds of nas filled her contact list, yet not one of them felt genuine.
She had once been surrounded by people, basking in their admiration and flattery. But now, when she truly needed help, she realized how shallow those connections had always been.
Tossing the phone aside, Orabela leaned back on the couch, her head sinking into the cushion. Her phone buzzed, but she wasn’t bothered to check it. When for the second ti, it rang, she checked the number and answered it.
"Hello? Who’s this?" she asked, her tone flat.
"Orabela, it’s , Calvin Fanwick," a man’s calm voice ca through.
Orabela frowned, the na sparking no recognition. "Calvin?" she echoed, her brows knitting together. "I’m sorry, I think you have the wrong person."
She was about to hang up when the man’s voice stopped her.
"Orabela Rosenzweig, how could you forget ? I’ll be truly upset if you don’t rember. Why don’t you see ? I’m sure you’ll recognize instantly."
Orabela’s frown deepened. "I’m not interested in seeing anyone," she snapped. "And I don’t appreciate being troubled."
There was a pause before Calvin spoke again, his voice calm but insistent. "I thought I could help you. Don’t you need help, Orabela?"
Her grip on the phone tightened as his words sank in. "And how exactly do you know I need help?" she asked sharply, suspicion lacing her tone.
"Well, you’ll find out once you see . You can find at Osteria Amore (Love Tavern)," Calvin said, his voice laced with confidence. Then, without waiting for her response, he hung up.
Orabela stared at her phone in bewildernt. She racked her brain, trying to place the na. "Calvin Fanwick... Who is he?" No matter how hard she tried, no familiar face or mory surfaced. Was he soone from her school? University? Perhaps an old acquaintance she had overlooked?
However, she was too tired to even step out, but then she couldn’t ignore what Calvin said.
Orabela went to the washroom and washed her face. Drying it with a towel, she stood before the mirror and brushed her hair before stepping out of her apartnt.
It didn’t take her long to reach the ntioned restaurant. As Orabela looked around, she found man smiling at her. He then waved her, gesturing to her to co to the table where he was seated.
Orabela walked there and Calvin left his place. He extended his hand out for a handshake, but Orabela refused doing so and sat on the chair.
Calvin looked at his hand and settled on his seat. The waiter poured water into their glasses. "What would you like to order, Sir?"
Calvin who was holding the nu ordered the dishes and asked Orabela about her choice.
"Anything be fine," Orabela replied.
"Then, please bring the sa for two people," Calvin told the waiter, who walked away, leaving them in their private space.
"Were we classmates? Or were we in the sa university? I’m unable to recall your na," Orabela asserted. "And how do you want to help ? How do you know what help do I need?" She demanded answers.
Calvin smiled faintly. "Calm down, I’ll answer your questions," he stated.
"We weren’t classmates nor we were in sa university. But I am soone who saw you in a party a few months ago," Calvin asserted. "I would like to date you," he said.
"What?" Orabela exclaid, and the chuckled. "Do you even know what you are saying?"
"Well, yes," Calvin replied and picked up the glass to sip the water. "Did your father not you about ?" he then asked.
"Dad didn’t say anything," Orabela said.
"Hmm. I think Mr. Rosenzweig might have forgotten to ntion about it because recently a lot of things going with him," he asserted. "Nevermind. What do you think about dating ?" he asked.
"That was sudden. I need ti," Orabela replied and thought to talk with her father once.
"Give my answer by tomorrow morning," Calvin stated.
The waiter returned, expertly balancing their orders before setting each dish on the table. "Enjoy," he said with a polite smile, pouring wine into the last glass before disappearing into the background.
Orabela’s gaze lingered on the neatly plated food for a mont, but her mind was elsewhere. ’Why does he want to date ?’ she wondered, her grip tightening slightly on the fork. ’Does he think I’m still the heiress of the Rosenzweig family? What if he finds out I’m not?’
She pushed the anxious thoughts aside and picked up her fork.
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