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Chapter 6
Things would've been so much easier if Mark had just been another classmate. But he wasn't.
I bit my lip so hard I nearly drew blood, but the image of my aging parents flashed through my mind. Their hair had turned gray because of me. I couldn't afford to let pride get in the way, I didn't have time to waste.
With renewed determination, I called my college best friend, Anna Huntington.
"Anna," I began, hesitating for a moment before forcing myself to say it. "Do you have Mark Ruffus's contact information? You do? Can you send me his number?"
It didn't take long before Anna sent me a string of numbers on WhatsApp. I stared at them for a second, then took a deep breath and dialed. The call connected, ringing once, twice, three times.
My heart pounded with each ring. I clenched my fists, nerves twisting in my stomach. Then, the tone cut off, replaced by an automated message.
Mark didn't answer.
I wasn't foolish enough to think he recognized my number and deliberately ignored me. Most likely, he just didn't pick up calls from unknown numbers.
Sighing, I transferred my last fifteen thousand dollars to my parents. Just as the transaction went through, my phone buzzed with an incoming call.
Mark.
"Hello?" His voice was casual and slightly husky, carrying the same lazy drawl he'd had when we were younger. I could almost picture him leaning back, long legs crossed, completely at ease.
My heart raced. I was more nervous now than I'd been during my first job interview.
"Mark," I said, my voice unsteady. "It's been a long time. This is Bella."
A brief pause. Then, click. He hung up.
When we finally met again after all these years, all the confidence I'd built crumbled away.
Mark sat across from me, casually draping his black coat over the chair beside him. He wore a simple white sweater that hugged his broad shoulders, his exposed forearms showcasing defined muscles. Time had been kind to him, his slightly tousled hair fell softly over his brows, his sharp nose and thin lips unchanged. His deep, almond-shaped eyes still held that familiar hint of mischief, but now, they carried something heavier, something unreadable. Though his style had matured, there was still an air of recklessness about him.
I took a sip of my coffee before pulling a contract from my bag.
"Mr. Ruffus," I said, sliding the document across the table. "Here's the contract draft. Please take a look."
Mark picked it up, flipping through a few pages without much interest. "I remember you used to hate coffee," he remarked, his voice casual, but his gaze was sharp, unwavering.
The intensity of his stare made my scalp tingle, and I nearly crushed my fingers under the table. "I drink it now," I replied, keeping my tone neutral. "If there's anything in the contract that seems unreasonable, we can discuss it."
He scanned the document again, then put it down. His brows furrowed slightly, and when he spoke again, his voice had a new edge, tinged with irritation.
"Are you still with Sonny?"
The question hit me like a slap. My face burned, but no words came out. Shame and old memories surged forward, dragging me back to the last time I had seen Mark, his furious expression, the way his veins bulged as he shouted at me, calling me ungrateful.
Back in college, Mark had pursued me relentlessly for two years. He knew I had been dating Sonny for a year, but that never stopped him. He followed me around like a lovesick puppy, only to be rejected time and time again.
It might have been easier to bear if I had been happy, but the truth was, Sonny had come from a poor family. He spent most of his time working part-time jobs, struggling to make ends meet. More often than not, he even needed to borrow money from me just to cover his expenses.
When Mark found out, he was livid. I still remembered the night he cornered me outside my part-time job, demanding to know what I saw in Sonny, why he wasn't good enough for me.
Even now, all these years later, I could still see the anger in his eyes as if it had happened yesterday.