Emerson was a rather competent babysitter.
On the days Ronan was off to meetings, he would send Ronan pictures of every move the kid made. He even sent photos of the meals he cooked for the boy, just to prove that he wasn't slacking off.
Today, Emerson took the kid to the community park to play with other children. From the pictures, it looked like little Callum was having a blast, dripping with sweat.
Suddenly, Emerson barged into Ronan's room. "By the way, when I was leaving, Janice asked me if you've met Harold's sweetheart yet?"
Ronan paused for a moment, not saying a word. "Close the door on your way out!"
Ronan thought for a moment, then made a collage out of the pictures Emerson had just sent him and posted it on Facebook. The caption was simple, [My three-year-old boy.]
Ronan rarely posted on Facebook, but when he did, it was purposeful. Ever since Cordelia left, he had been posting more regularly, primarily pictures of Callum. Furthermore, he had blocked Cordelia, preventing her from seeing his Facebook posts.
He was curious to see how Cordelia would feel, standing on the outside looking in, yet unable to see anything.
She thought she was so tough, didn't she?
…
The next evening, at a small restaurant.
Before the dinner, Petra spent the whole afternoon getting ready. She wanted to look presentable but not overdone, and she was nervous. Finally, in a simple yet sophisticated outfit, she invited Cordelia along.
Once Cordelia got into her car, she felt like she was playing matchmaker, a third wheel on a date. It felt odd.
But as Petra pointed out, the person she liked most was her husband. Besides, they were all in their thirties. Wasn't it silly to discuss who liked who? It was just a gathering of old school friends.
The restaurant was a quaint wooden building adorned with red lamps, exuding a certain charm.
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