I stood on the balcony, my mind a swirling chaos. Elena's words echoed like a relentless hammer, each blow striking deep into my heart. Her sacrifices, her expectations, her disappointments—they surged toward me like an unstoppable tide, drowning me in their wake. I had never truly considered these matters, focusing only on repaying her kindness, as if settling a debt, all the while neglecting her feelings and her needs.

The night outside was thick and somber. Streetlights cast quivering shadows upon the ground, mocking my foolishness. Elena seemed so different now, her carefree demeanor gone, replaced by a watchful intensity toward everything about me. Was it because she truly saw herself as my woman that she acted this way? A dull ache throbbed in my head, as though countless tiny hammers were tapping away at it.

Lost in my own thoughts, I didn't hear the familiar footsteps behind me until they were near. My mother approached, carrying a steaming cup of water, evidently here to console me. She handed me the cup and gave me a long, meaningful look.

"Ryan, give Elena a call. Have a proper talk with her," she said, her voice tinged with both resignation and hope. "I'm not asking for wealth or favors from her family, nor do I covet their riches. I just think Elena is a good woman. She cares about you, she loves you, and that's enough."

I took the cup and blew gently on the steam, using the small action to buy myself a moment of respite from the storm of emotions within me. My mother's gaze grew sharper, piercing through me as though to uncover the thoughts I dared not voice. She was right, of course, but my inner turmoil left me speechless.

"I don't know what's in your heart," she continued, her tone carrying both reproach and tenderness, "but I want you to think carefully. Change how you see Elena, and change how you treat her. A girl has given so much for you—what more could you possibly ask for?"

I wordlessly pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with practiced ease. Taking a deep drag, I let the smoke drift into the night wind, as though it might carry away the tangled emotions in my chest.

"I understand, Mom," I muttered softly. "You should get some rest."

She shook her head and sighed deeply. "Ryan, my child, why are you so dense? Are you planning to keep Elena waiting until the end of time?"

I forced a bitter smile. "Mom, it's not that I don't understand. It's just… ah, never mind. You know my brain doesn't always work the way it should."

For days on end, I buried myself in work, immersing myself in the company's affairs. In the past, watching Lina handle these matters with such ease had left me thinking it was all simple. How wrong I was. Every little issue required reporting and approval, and the endless stream of applications left me overwhelmed. Anxiety crept in, and I found myself yearning to tell Lina I couldn't handle it, to ask her to take over again. But times had changed—I no longer had the luxury of indulgence.

Elena hadn't called in days. Every time I mustered the courage to dial her number, I stared at her name on the screen, only to falter and put the phone down.

After work, the office grew quiet. I sat at my desk, papers scattered before me, unwilling to look at them. Just then, Charlotte Hayes walked in.

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"I saw your office light on and thought you'd left. I came to turn it off but found you still here," she said with a hint of amusement.

I glanced at her helplessly. In the entire company, only she and Vincent followed my instructions without question. Even when my decisions were less than perfect, they carried them out flawlessly, and I was deeply grateful for their support during such trying times.

"Just trying to finish up these tasks," I replied with a wry smile. "No idea why there's been such a flood of documents needing approval these days."

Charlotte tapped my head lightly with her finger. "You're hopeless. Can't you see what's going on? Most of these documents don't even need to come to you. Either they're testing you, waiting to see you fail, or they're gauging whether you'll delegate or try to micromanage everything. You need to sort through the paperwork—figure out what they can handle on their own and what requires your input. If you insist on doing everything yourself, why even have them around?"

Her words were like a cold bucket of water, jolting me awake. Grasping her hand in gratitude, I said, "Charlotte, thank you. I've been so overwhelmed that I completely forgot Lina had already set up such protocols."

Charlotte Hayes smiled faintly and began sorting through the files on my desk with practiced ease, quickly categorizing them. "Here, these are the ones you need to approve. As for the rest, tell them tomorrow to stop bothering you with trivial matters. Just have them report the results directly."

I nodded, picked up the necessary documents, and reviewed them carefully. Meanwhile, Charlotte reclined casually on the sofa, legs crossed, scrolling through her phone. Once I finished, I looked up and noticed she was still there.

"Charlotte, why haven't you gone home yet?" I asked.

She glanced up with a playful smile. "What's this? Using me and then discarding me? If it weren't for me helping you out, you'd still be tearing your hair out over those files. Now you're ready to kick me out?"

I hastily waved my hands in denial. "No, it's not that. I just thought it was late, and you hadn't left, so I asked."

She sighed, a hint of helplessness in her gaze. "You know why I don't go home. Even if I do, it's just me there, all alone. I figured I'd wait for you to finish so we could grab something to eat together."

As I tidied up my desk, I replied, "I'm done now. Let's go."

I offered to drive, but she playfully stopped me. "You can ride in my car. I wouldn't dare sit in yours. If Sophie finds out, she might skin me alive."

Feeling slightly awkward, I got into her car. She drove us to the city center, and we ended up at a hotpot restaurant. She grinned and said, "It's been ages since I had hotpot. Let's have that tonight."

"Fine by me," I replied with a smile.

The restaurant was bustling with warmth and rich aromas. We ordered a tableful of dishes—hotpot and beer, a perfect pairing. As the evening went on and drinks began to flow, Charlotte suddenly asked, "What's the deal between you and Sophie?"

I hesitated, the question weighing on me, before answering in a low voice, "She's my ex-girlfriend, but we're nothing now."

Charlotte raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. "An ex-girlfriend who hands over shares of her company?"

I chuckled wryly. "Maybe she just wanted me to manage the company properly."

Seeing my reluctance to elaborate, she let the topic drop, seamlessly transitioning to another. "So, are you and Elena a couple now?"

Rolling my eyes, I teased, "You really are nosy, aren't you? Always prying into everything."

She laughed, her gaze brimming with curiosity. "I'm just curious. At your father's farewell, didn't she attend as your fiancée? She used to come looking for you all the time, but lately, she's been conspicuously absent."

Her words stirred a mix of emotions in me, a blend of bitterness and regret. Taking a sip of beer, I felt a crack open in my defenses, and I began recounting the story of Elena and me.

"Elena was my high school classmate," I started, the memories of those youthful days tinged with a trace of melancholy. "I used to look down on her because she hung around with boys all the time, laughing and joking like one of them. She was a tomboy through and through. Back then, she wanted to date me, but I refused. I thought she was unreliable. Later, when I went to university, we drifted apart. But as you know, things at home fell apart, and I couldn't continue my studies. I had to come back."