A One Night Stand With My Boss

Camila's voice was soft, but it felt like an invisible wall between them. Connor's heart tightened painfully, his fists clenching as he fought the urge to pull her into his arms. Taking a deep breath, he pleaded, "Cami, I know this is sudden for you, and I didn't mean to keep it from you..."

Camila shook her head gently, her eyes brimming with confusion and helplessness. She didn't know how to face Connor right now.

"I just want to go home," she murmured, her voice flat and nearly devoid of emotion.

Her gaze drifted off into the distance, as if trying to find a way back home.

"It's late, just go back to your room and rest. The flight's booked for tomorrow," Connor tried to soothe her, hoping she would calm down.

But Camila shook her head, "I'll take the ferry back."This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

Though her voice was weak, it was resolute.

"There are no ferries at this hour."

"I'll wait at the harbor for the first one in the morning."

A pang of heartache flashed through Connor's eyes. He took another deep breath and dialed his phone, "Request an emergency flight plan. We're heading back to Fairmount now." After hanging up, he turned to Camila, his voice soft, "I'll take you."

While waiting for air traffic control to respond, Camila returned to her room. She sat on the edge of the bed, hugging her knees, her gaze blankly staring out the window. Her heart was in turmoil, emotions tangled and twisted. At this moment, she felt incredibly weary and lost.

Connor stepped out onto the

balcony, inhaling the crisp air. The sky had started to drizzle, and the

fine mist hitting his face brought a slight chill, The cold wind was piercing, as if it could reach deep into his soul. He had the hotel manager bring him a cigarette; right now, he needed something to quell the storm inside him. Lighting the cigarette, he took a deep drag and watched the smoke rise and dissipate into the cold air.

When air traffic control finally responded, Connor took another deep breath, stubbing out the cigarette in the ashtray. He went back to his room to change clothes and freshen up; Camila disliked the smell of smoke.

On their way to the airport, the landscape outside the car window was blurred and vague through the rain. Inside the car, silence reigned Connor wanted to speak several times but couldn't find the right sbut words. He stole glances at Camila, who was looking out the window with an expressionless face. His heart was heavy with guilt and helplessness; he knew he was to blame.

Back in Fairmount, at Camila's apartment building, Connor got out of the car and opened an umbrella for Camila. They walked in silence, his heart full of bitterness. At her doorstep, he whispered, "Good night."

Camila nodded, said nothing, and

turned to close the door. Connor stood beneath her apartment, his gaze fixed on the window lit with light. The rain grew heavier, soaking him, the icy wind cutting deep, but he seemed impervious to the cold. He understood that Camila was rational; her lack of confidence in a relationship with such disparity in status was understandable.

How could he make her see that he was just an ordinary person, longing for love? Longing to spend every ordinary yet cozy day with her?

The rain poured down like a deluge, enveloping the world in a vast curtain of white. Camila stood by the window, about to close it. Just as she was about to shut it, her gaze inadvertently swept downstairs. There he stood, in the rain, his posture upright, his gaze steadfastly fixed on her.