Upon returning to the office, Sophie was seated at her desk, a stack of papers in her hands. Her brow was slightly furrowed, clearly troubled by some perplexing issue. As soon as she looked up and saw me, she immediately set the papers down, her tone tinged with mild dissatisfaction."Where have you been?"

"Oh, I just went to the restroom," I replied casually, silently wondering why she always felt compelled to involve herself in my affairs.

Sophie set the documents aside, crossed her arms, and a mocking smile played at the corner of her lips."Ryan, it seems you've become rather talkative. Wasn't it Lucas who called for you?"

I froze for a moment, surprised by how quickly she knew, but I maintained a nonchalant facade."Since you already know, why bother asking?"

Sophie snorted, her gaze laced with amusement."You… go make me a cup of coffee."

With a sigh of exasperation, I inwardly grumbled at her increasing demands. Turning, I left the office and made my way to the break room, where I brewed a steaming cup of coffee. Upon returning to her office, I cautiously handed it to her.

As Sophie reached for the cup, her hand missed, and the coffee splashed directly onto her chest. Her face instantly hardened, a storm of fury in her eyes as she glared at me. Hastily, I grabbed a few tissues, attempting to wipe the mess, though I failed to realize the sensitive area I was addressing. As I fumbled with the task, her expression darkened further, and finally unable to hold back, she swatted my hand away."Ryan, did you do that on purpose?"

Only then did I realize the mistake I had made. I quickly discarded the tissues and muttered,"I'm sorry, it wasn't intentional."

She scoffed twice, her eyes flashing with annoyance as she snapped,"Go buy me a new shirt, and also a set of underwear."

I noticed that her white blouse was thoroughly stained with coffee, and inwardly sighed, lamenting how disastrous the morning had become. I casually inquired,"Sure, what size do you wear?"

"Don't you know my size?" Her voice rose, clearly more irritated, her eyes seemingly ignited with fire.

"I remember now," I hastily replied, attempting to ease her frustration, before turning to leave. The longer I lingered, the more awkward it became. Almost as if fleeing, I hurriedly left the office, silently praying that her ire would not be directed toward me.

I drove to the mall, anxiety gnawing at me. Buying her clothes felt like a daunting task. I had no idea what her usual price range was, and the expensive items were certainly beyond my budget, so I chose something more reasonably priced. I found a discounted blouse for 100 yuan, hoping she wouldn't find it too substandard.

However, when it came to buying underwear, I was completely at a loss. Standing in the lingerie section, I awkwardly held a pair in my hands, feeling like an utterly clueless thief.

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A saleswoman approached, her eyes scanning me with suspicion. Her voice was icy as she inquired,"Sir, what exactly do you think you're doing?"

I stammered,"I… I'm trying to buy some underwear for my colleague, but I'm not sure of her size."

The saleswoman raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical of my explanation."If you don't know her size, why don't you ask her? What are you doing, measuring them like that?"

With a sheepish expression, I explained,"I can't ask her... this is my only option."

The saleswoman eyed me with a look of deep skepticism, her voice dripping with suspicion. "Really? You seem rather peculiar. Surely, you don't have any ill intentions, do you?"

I hastily shook my head, vehemently denying, "No, not at all. I'm just in a rush, worried I might buy the wrong thing and get scolded when I return."

With a resigned sigh, the saleswoman seemed to soften slightly, her tone less accusing. "Well then, tell me a bit about your colleague's figure, and I'll try to estimate her size for you."

I racked my brain, attempting to recall her figure, describing her as best as I could: "She's got a lovely figure, neither too thin nor too plump, quite tall and graceful."

The saleswoman thought for a moment, then handed me a set of lingerie, saying, "This size should be about right. Does this seem suitable to you?"

I paid and hurriedly left the lingerie section, my face burning with embarrassment. That experience was nothing short of mortifying.

Back at the office, I cautiously handed her the bag containing the clothes and lingerie, my heart pounding with anxiety, dreading any displeasure. She took the bag with a cold glance, her lips twitching slightly, as if trying to suppress some inner emotion. Her gaze was as sharp as a blade, sending a shiver down my spine. She turned and retreated to her private room, leaving behind an air of palpable tension.

After what seemed like an eternity, she emerged, her face marked by impatience. She tossed the clothes she had changed out of at me, her voice clipped and devoid of warmth. "Take these, wash them tonight." She adjusted her lingerie, an unmistakable hint of dissatisfaction in her eyes, then added, "You can't even manage to buy a proper set of underwear."

I stood there, momentarily stunned, panic rising in my chest. I quickly asked, "Oh, is it not the right fit? I even had the saleswoman help me choose. Is it too big or too small? Should I go exchange it?"

Her eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as though looking at something unpleasant. "You fool, it's too small, it's too tight. I'm not exchanging it. I'll just wear it tonight. You can't even do something simple."

A wave of indignation swept over me, and I muttered, "How was I supposed to know what size you wear?"

Without warning, she flung a folder at me, its sharp sound reverberating through the office. "After all this time, you still don't know my size? Hmph."

I picked up the folder from the floor and placed it back on the desk, realizing there was no point in saying more. I turned to leave, heading toward the secretary's room. Yet, a lingering feeling of frustration churned inside me.

Just as I was about to leave, she spoke again, her voice tinged with derision. "You know, sometimes I really wonder if you're doing this on purpose."

I stopped in my tracks, turning back to face her, confusion and unease settling in my chest. "On purpose? What do you mean?"

She let out a cold laugh, walking to the window and gazing out at the view, her voice laced with resignation. "You're always like this, never putting your heart into anything. Do you think I'm being too harsh on you?"

A sudden jolt of surprise coursed through me. I had never imagined she felt this way. I hastily responded, "No, that's not it at all. I really am trying my best. It's just... sometimes I really don't know what to do."

"Trying your best? I fail to see it. You're heartless," she paused, then added, "I truly don't understand why you can't grasp this."

My mind spun, trying to piece together what she meant. What was she talking about? Why couldn't I understand?

Seeing my bewilderment, she waved her hand dismissively. "Go away."