Chapter 257

"Can I have some soy milk, please." Amy spoke without any emotion. She had no appetite at all, finding it hard to swallow anything she looked at. "What would you like for the main course?" asked the shop owner casually as he wiped the tables with a cloth. "Steamed buns, corn pancakes, or date cakes maybe?" "Anything will do." Amy said listlessly. If not for the extra work, she usually stuck to a rigid sleep schedule. This was her first ever all-nighter. "Alright then, our homemade date cakes are the most popular breakfast choice in this shop. I'll bring you some to try." The owner continued chatting as he worked. The shop was pretty quiet with just him, making him seek conversation with his customers. "You're my first customer this morning. Do you always get up this early for work?" Hearing the owner's question, Amy felt a pang in her heart. Her eyes welled up with tears. The memories of Peter, her boyfriend, played in her mind repeatedly, the suppression making it difficult for her to breathe. "Miss, your soy milk and date cake are ready." The owner brought over the breakfast and placed it in front of her with a smile, oblivious to the beautiful lady's sour mood. The shop owner had no idea what was bothering her, but he wagered, considering her age, there was a high chance it was heartbreak. "Ah well, life goes on. Everyone deals with a few jerks. Worrying doesn't help. Once you turn this chapter over, it'll be over." The shop owner said at a normal volume, seemingly intentional in letting Amy hear his thoughts. Amy picked up a piece of date cake, nibbled on it, and thought about the shop owner’s words. Peter wasn't a jerk. He was a gentleman who was honest, humble, dedicated, and principled. But why did her heart hurt so much after everything that happened the previous night? Could it really be that easy to turn the page? Amy found it difficult to stay calm. This was not the story or the ending she wanted. She couldn't accept it; was this how it was going to be for the rest of her life? Tears started streaming down her face. The heat of her tears, accompanied by the salty flavor mixed in with the sweet taste of the date cake in her mouth, only made things worse, and she found it impossible to swallow. As Amy thought about it, she became more morose, more desperate… Suddenly, she began to sob uncontrollably, the kind of sobbing that comes from deep despair. She fell into a helpless slump against the wall, the date cake crumbling in her hand, the crumbs spilling all over her. "Hey, miss, what's wrong?" The shop owner, seeing Amy cry like this, approached her, at a loss for what to do. He wanted to comfort her but didn't know what to say for fear of making her feel worse. "Ah!" Amy shrieked in pain, her hands tugging at her hair. She hadn't been through any major storms in her life, nor had she faced much adversity. But what had transpired just a few hours ago was completely unbearable for her. Amy's life was a simple and unadorned one, comprised of working and staying at home reading books, listening to music, shopping, and watching movies. She had become accustomed to living her quiet, ordinary life alone. Now, however, the presence of a bleak relationship thrust upon her life has sent her into turmoil, completely losing her direction. "Miss, I beg you, please stop crying! People dare not come to my shop for breakfast anymore, oh dear, what to do?" The shop owner didn't dare to step forward and help Amy up. He simply stood and watched, silently waiting for Amy to vent out all her emotions. Meanwhile, at the reception of the Saint Louis Cruise line Restaurant. Peter was paying compensation because he had thrown a broken wine bottle and shattered the large screen. The sofa and carpet were also stained with spots of blood, his own and Amy's. After leaving the Fish stuck Wharf, Peter's mood was still gloomy. What troubled him the most now was not the impending engagement of Melissa and Joseph, but the fact that he had hurt Amy, a kind-hearted, sensitive, and fragile girl. He felt extremely guilty. He wondered if Amy had gotten home yet. Peter made his way to the central street square of city S. The vehicles and crowds around the square were bustling. He sat under the square's landmark building. He needed to clear his mind and find some peace. Damn it! He had drunk too much last night. His temples throbbed, close to exploding, and he vowed never to drink that much again. A phone call came in, interrupting Peter's desire for tranquility. He picked up the phone and suddenly didn't want to answer. It was a call from Melissa. It probably rang for more than forty seconds before Peter finally slid the answer button, "Melissa." Peter's voice was still hoarse, sounding extremely downcast. Melissa's first thought upon waking up was to call Peter. She was very concerned about Peter's mental state, afraid that he would remain depressed. "Peter! Where are you, how are your injuries?" Melissa silently thought to herself, thanking the heavens. Peter was actually awake. She thought that if she called Peter at this time, he wouldn't answer. The fact that he got up so early indicated that he likely hadn't drunk any more alcohol after she left last night. "I'm outside." Peter replied briefly, devoid of any inflection. His wounds? Which wounds? He had sustained several injuries last night. He was unsure which one Melissa was asking about. "Why are you outside? Did you go out this early?" Melissa, wearing a plush nightgown, stood on the balcony looking out at the late autumn scenery in the residential area, asking with confusion. "Mhmm, I came out for some fresh air." Peter buried half his face in his palm, his mood even more gloomy than yesterday. Melissa felt a chill on the balcony, she tightened her nightgown and returned to her bedroom, pacing idly asking, "Peter, did you safely bring Amy home last night?" Melissa’s question was idle. She never actively cared about others except for Amy. In her impression, Amy was a delicate and fragile woman who did not compete or fight with others. She seemed detached from worldly affairs and thus needed more protection. Peter was sitting on a cold stone platform, speaking with a tired voice. "I didn't accompany her home last night, she went home by herself." "Oh. Peter, I’m sorry. I actually regret not telling you that I was working at Harrington Group beforehand. I put myself in your shoes and it indeed felt uncomfortable." Melissa spoke honestly. She was sitting on the edge of the bed playing with her bear-patterned plush slippers. Her mood was as bland as plain water, neither happy nor sad. Peter listened on the other end of the phone, feeling relieved that Melissa didn’t ask too many questions about Amy just now. Otherwise, he really wouldn’t know how to explain to Melissa.