Chapter 70
Emily's POV
After finishing work for the day, I was about to hail a taxi when Michael pulled up beside me as usual.
"Get in," he commanded, interrupting me just as I was about to refuse.
When I slid into Michael's car, I immediately noticed roses sitting on the passenger seat. The sickly sweet scent assaulted my senses, making my stomach churn.
I looked at the offensive flowers and decided to move to the back seat.
"I don't like the smell of roses," I explained after getting in.
Michael glanced at the bouquet as if he had forgotten they existed.
Without hesitation, Michael grabbed the flowers and stepped out of the car. I watched through the window as he tossed them into a nearby trash can, returning seconds later.
Michael's eyebrows rose slightly—one of his rare expressions. "I didn't know you hated roses so much."
The scent still lingered faintly, making me fidget uncomfortably.
As Michael pulled into traffic, my mind raced. If those flowers were from his girlfriend, things between us would inevitably change. Our comfortable work routine, the quiet drives home, the occasional dinners discussing cases—all of it would be disrupted. I hated changes I couldn't control.
Michael cracked open the window, then closed it again when the cold air rushed in. "So what kind of flowers do you like?" he asked, his eyes meeting mine in the rearview mirror.
"I don't like flowers," I replied flatly. "They're pretty, I guess, but they die so quickly. I prefer things that last."
"Like what?"
"Books. Art. Things that endure." I hesitated, then added, "By the way, you shouldn't have thrown those away. Someone put thought into buying them for you."
Michael's eyes flickered back to the road. "They weren't for me. They were just... props."
"Props?"
"For my cousin Freya. She was trying to make her ex jealous." He sighed. "That woman you all saw me with at lunch—that was her."
Something tight in my chest suddenly loosened. "Oh."
"I just needed to help her with her ridiculous scheme. It wasn't a date."
"I see." The relief in my voice was embarrassingly obvious. I cleared my throat. "So you're not dating anyone?"
"No," Michael said firmly. "I'm not."
The tension in the car dissipated like morning fog. I found myself smiling. I wouldn't need to figure out how to use Uber after all.
"I thought things might get awkward if you had a girlfriend."
Michael was quiet for a moment. "I was angry earlier today because of you."
"Me?" I blinked. "What did I do?"
"Figure it out yourself."
I frowned, struggling to understand.
"I'm not good at self-reflection," I admitted. "People tell me that a lot. But you'll forgive me, right? I value our relationship."
Michael's expression softened slightly.
"So we're okay?" I suddenly felt uncertain.
He nodded. "We're okay."
Hearing those words, I couldn't stop my lips from curving upward. Everything could go back to normal.
---
When I got home, I was unconsciously humming, feeling inexplicably lighter. Olivia looked up from her book as I walked in.
"You're in a good mood," she observed suspiciously. "Something happen with Michael?"
"Why would you ask about Michael specifically?" I challenged, dropping my bag on the counter.
Olivia gave me a knowing look. "Because you were moping all through lunch after seeing him with that woman in the red dress. Now you're practically dancing."
"I don't mope," I insisted. "And that wasn't his girlfriend. It was his cousin."
"If you say so." Olivia closed her book and stood up. "I'm going to bed. Try not to crash around at 1 AM when you get your random burst of energy."
---
Michael's POV
The next morning, I felt a noticeable change in the atmosphere at the station. Emily and I fell back into our usual rhythm, reviewing case files together. I couldn't help stealing glances at her; she looked much more relaxed than yesterday. So was I.
Thomas and Daniel kept exchanging meaningful looks, which I pretended not to notice. Those guys never missed an opportunity for gossip.
"So, Michael," Daniel finally spoke during a lull, "are you two-timing someone or what?"
I kept my expression neutral, though I wanted to roll my eyes. "That was my cousin helping with her relationship drama."
"Ah," Daniel nodded, then turned his attention to Daisy's desk. "Speaking of relationship issues, are you guys getting pressured about marriage? My mom's already started with the 'when are you bringing a nice girl home' routine."
I watched Daisy roll her eyes. "Don't remind me. My aunt keeps showing me pictures of her friends' sons."
"You could just bring anyone," Thomas suggested, "a friend, a coworker, whoever..."
Emily suddenly asked directly: "Do you have a date, Daisy?"
Typical Emily style, straight to the point. I noticed Daisy's immediate blush.
"No! Why would you think that?" Daisy protested.
Emily remained unfazed. "You've been wearing lip gloss regularly, and you check your phone more frequently."
I couldn't help but smile to myself. Emily's observational skills were always impressive. Daniel looked like he'd been punched, his eyes revealing his hurt. "Who is it? Do I know him?"
"There is no one," Daisy insisted, then glared at Emily.
Thomas jumped in: "My strategy is bringing up increasingly disturbing career anecdotes whenever my family asks about my dating life."
"What about you, Emily?" Daniel directed the conversation toward Emily.
I watched Emily shrug. "My family doesn't pressure me to date. They're not really the warm, involved type."
"Your parents must really trust you," he remarked. Immediately after, Daisy kicked Daniel's shin.
Daniel winced. "Sorry, I forgot about your... situation."
An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. I saw a flash of pain in Emily's eyes, though she tried to hide it. I decided to break the silence and change the subject.
"My family has been pressuring me too," I said. "She keeps trying to set me up with her colleagues' daughters."
Emily turned to me, her eyes suddenly focused. "Would you go on those setups?"
"No," I replied firmly, hoping she would understand the implication. "I prefer to make my own choices. What about you?"
"Absolutely not," she answered with determination in her voice. "I refuse to be evaluated like merchandise at a department store."
I nodded approvingly, unable to suppress a feeling of joy at her answer.
Later, Thomas and Daniel cornered me in the conference room, closing the door.