As the workday drew to a close, Nicolas sent me another voice message, his tone considerably softer than before.

“Ella, I’ll pick up your favorite little cake on my way home. Wait for me, and we’ll have a proper talk.”

I trailed behind him, shaking my head.

There was no need for that; I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the cake, and there was nothing left to discuss between us. I pouted, longing for one last glimpse of my parents and brother.

Over the years, I had neglected them to support Nicolas, missing family gatherings like the Mid-Autumn Festival. Yet, for some inexplicable reason, my soul couldn't stray more than...