Chapter 92


    Outside was a bustling neighborhood, still caught in the thick of rush hour, with people hustling and


    bustling


    about.


    Yet among the sea of faces on the street, Brandon didn’t catch a glimpse of anyone familiar.


    With a puzzled furrow between his brows, Brandon walked on, letting his gaze roam through the crowd,


    but came up with zilch.


    His search slowed to a halt, and Brandon stood still, silently watching the throng, his handsome face


    still shrouded with confusion over the fleeting sight he’d just caught.


    Brandon wasn’t sure if he’d seen it wrong, that silhouette.


    He shifted slightly, scanning the other side of the pedestrian flow, but still found nothing.


    In the tranquil alley, Sophia meandered alone, her hand subconsciously gripping her phone, palms


    slightly sweaty, heart rate ticking up a notch, filled with an inexplicable sense of being lost and clueless.


    She hadn’t expected to bump into Brandon again, just like that, without any warning.


    She’d never thought she’d see him again, and even if she did stumble upon him like she just had, she


    should’ve been straightforward and greeted him, not chosen to bolt like she did now


    Sophia didn’t know why she was dodging him.


    It seemed her body made a choice before her mind could weigh in.


    She didn’t even have the guts to walk back to that office building now, still not quite mentally adjusted,


    so when Sylvia called again asking how much longer she’d be, she felt guilty and apologized to Sylvia


    and Don, saying something came upst minute, and she’d have to reschedule their chat.


    Don, being the generous and attentive boss he was, made sure she was just dealing with a minor issue


    and not in any danger, told her to take care and not to worry about work, and then hung up.


    Don stepped outside and saw Brandon standing by the road, his gaze unintentionally sweeping over


    the passersby, his usually calm andposed face showing a touch of bewilderment, as if searching


    for


    someone.


    He approached Brandon, puzzled, and pped him on the shoulder, “What’s up? Looking for


    someone?”


    Brandon turned around, his expression back to the cool aloofness Don was familiar with, “Nope.‘


    Don nced behind him and then at him, “All done with your stuff?”


    Don shook his head, “Had to reschedule.


    He half–jokingly pped Brandon on the shoulder, “You came all this way to see me, I can’t let you


    hang, right?”


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    Brandon promptly pulled his hand away, “Don’t tter yourself. It was just on the way.”


    Already fishing out his car keys, he headed towards the nearby parking lot.


    Don followed with a chuckle, “Let me live in my fantasy world from time to time, it won’t kill anyone, no


    need to burst my bubble so fast.”


    The two hit up a traditional restaurant that Don imed had a real local vibe.


    Nestled in a shopping center not far from the office, just a quick drive around the block and you’re


    there.


    The ce was decked out in ssic Zenitha retro style, even the waitstaff were decked out in


    traditional clothes.


    This ce is all about that ssic culture vibe, they even rent out traditional clothes and hairpieces,


    and offer


    services. It’s a hit for those looking to check in on social, Don exined, “Don’t be fooled by the


    shy service, they really put their heart into the food. This is some of the most authentic West district


    cuisine I’ve had.”


    Brandon scanned the hall; business was indeed booming.


    But thanks to the spaciousyout, itcked the noisy feel of other eateries, instead exuding a serene


    and peaceful dining atmosphere, pretty solid.


    Don, a regr here, nodded to the bartender and then led Brandon to a spot near the entrance,


    passing him the menu, “Take a look, see what you fancy.”


    Brandon slid the menu back, “You order, I’m good.”


    Don shed an “OK” sign and didn’t bother being polite with Brandon, waving over a server.


    Brandon poured tea for them both, pushing a cup towards Don before taking a small sip himself.


    As the richly fragrant tea slid down his throat, Brandon’s thoughts drifted back to the shadow he’d


    glimpsed outside the office building, pausing his motion ever so slightly.


    Just as Don finished ordering, he caught Brandon’spse and the distant look in his eyes, nudging his


    elbow across the table, “What’s up? You’ve been off since we met up.”


    As expected, his curiosity was met with a fleeting nce from Brandon and a cool, “It’s nothing.”


    After another deliberate sip of tea, Brandon elegantly set down his cup, his serene gaze taking in the


    restaurant’s ambiance like there was truly nothing amiss.


    Don shook his head resignedly, taking a sip of tea himself.


    Brandon ignored him, just calmly taking in everything about the restaurant.


    At that moment, a tiny figure stumbled through the curtain behind Brandon, bag in hand. Whether she


    was in too much of a hurry or the threshold was too high, she had barely mbered over when, with a


    “thud,” she tumbled to the ground, her bag identally flying onto Brandon’s foot.


    Instinctively looking down, Brandon was momentarily taken aback by the little girl sprawled on the floor,


    looking up at him with big, round, bewildered eyes.


    Don also nced at Brandon, then down at the little girl on the floor.


    The little girl looked about a year old, a typical Zenithan face, dressed in a pink and white summer


    dress, with two tiny buns atop her head, bangs cut straight across her forehead, the buns tied with little


    ribbons. Her delicate features were adorable and pretty, almost unusually so, and even he couldn’t help


    but pause for a