TPCF 47

CHAPTER 47…………..

That doctor had to be a fraud.

Anita wanted to throw away the bag slung over her shoulder. Of course, if she did that, she’d just have to limp over to pick it up again, so she didn’t.

After all, yesterday she’d managed to run just fine even with a twisted ankle.

So maybe alcohol really was a remedy?

No. She had sworn just minutes ago never to touch the stuff again. She couldn’t take it back so soon. Shaking her head vigorously, Anita suddenly froze.

Misfortune always comes in pairs. In the distance, someone she knew well was approaching. Someone she least wanted to meet right now.

As always when she saw him, her shoulders stiffened. She instinctively thought about turning her back and fleeing, but this time, she decided against it.

With her ankle in this state, running was impossible anyway. And it wasn’t as though she’d done something wrong that required her to run away.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Their last meeting had ended on a sour, emotional note. Rutger might feel awkward facing her as well.

Just keep walking. Just pass by.

Anita pretended desperately not to see him, fixing her eyes on the ground as if fascinated by the patterns there.

Convinced he’d just walk past.

“Are you feeling alright?”

Anita squeezed her eyes shut. Fate was never on her side.

Still keeping her head down, she cracked her eyes open just enough to see the shadow cast before her.

She slowly looked up. Rutger was standing right in front of her. How tiresome.

“You… never mind.”

It was just like him to start speaking and then stop halfway.

All of a sudden, Anita felt like laughing. She’d known him for more than ten years. She was familiar with all his little habits and turns of phrase, and yet she still had no idea what went on inside his head.

Had she only ever known the surface of him?

“Give me the bag. I’ll carry it.”

Anita shook her head. Carrying a bag was nothing difficult for him, of course, but she didn’t want to walk side by side with him. She didn’t want him to see her limping.

She knew she was too self-conscious around him. But who wants to show their worst side to someone they like?

She would rather make a fool of herself in front of the whole world than look foolish in front of him. That said it all.

“Don’t be stubborn.”

Stubborn?

Anita’s lips stiffened slightly. Why was it that everything she decided—after consideration, and for her own reasons—he dismissed as mere stubbornness? He never even asked why.

“Forget it. I’ll handle it myself. You can go.”

She meant it. She would have chosen to crawl on the ground before letting him support her.

“I said I’ll carry it.”

Why was he so insistent today of all days?

If a machine that could read people’s thoughts ever came out, Anita would buy it with her entire fortune.

“I said no.”

“You! No, I…” Rutger raked a hand roughly through his hair and let out a sigh, as if he were the one exasperated.

Anita glared at him stealthily.

If he wanted so badly to help, should she just ask him to carry the bag and nothing more? Would he leave her alone then?

But she didn’t even want to make that request, and she doubted he’d simply comply anyway.

“Aren’t you tired today?”

“Me?”

Her condition was far from good.

But was it really that obvious? Unconsciously, Anita touched her face. That morning she had checked her reflection in the mirror, worried that she might look like a hungover drunk for everyone to see. She’d scrutinized her face several times but found nothing unusual.

Since the arm holding the light black coat was the same one she used to touch her face, the coat slipped.

It mustn’t hit the ground.

She reached belatedly to catch it, but it was too late. Unlike Anita, who was juggling too many things, Rutger had a free hand and snatched it up with ease.

Rutger stared intently at the coat in his hand.

“Give it.”

“……”

“That’s not mine.”

“Of course not.”

His voice sounded almost mocking. Anita’s patience frayed, and her voice rose.

“I said give it back!”

His gaze, fixed until now on the coat, slowly shifted to Anita.

“Just one question.”

“What.”

“Do you know whose it is?”

“Well…”

Anita had been about to answer confidently—Edmund’s—but shut her mouth. She recalled the near-fight she and Rutger had in the café. She didn’t want another headache over him.

But lately, whenever Edmund’s name came up, Rutger reacted with a sharp edge.