Chapter 62

His cellphone rang. It was Monica.

"Oh, how are you?" he greeted her.

'Are you busy?'

"Not really, why?"

'Good, I'm in the elevator. Bye.'

"This girl is really weird," he murmured, shaking his head.

It had been two months since his grandfather passed away, and it was the first time he would see Monica again after she was taken by her parents to another country to unwind. They had talked on the phone, and Monica seemed anxious in their last conversation. Perhaps she couldn't wait to share her stories.

The door opened, and there was Monica. She was wearing pants and a blouse, an outfit she rarely wore when meeting him. She was a fashionista.

"Monte," she looked serious.

"Why?" he asked.

"I'm sorry," she hugged him, and he felt her wet clothes.

"Why are you crying?" he patted her back. He guided her to sit on the sofa in his office's corner. He grabbed tissues and water from the mini fridge. "Have a drink first."

"I couldn't tell you right away," she took a breath. "Almira confessed ever