Our Lovely Nights (Original, English Version)

Chapter 9 - Mikhail James

Through the months that I've focused on work, it could get dull. I could admit that. I think the only reason I kept going is... I do want this to end. I could've gone the other way and resented my job, but I didn't. I chose this. My family supported me. And though I have no way of knowing what they thought in their last moments, it took me years to convince myself that they probably didn't blame me. They were probably worried about me.

One thing that lessens the monotony is those rare days I get to chat with someone peculiar and witty. I've told myself to simply let her contact me first. I convinced myself not to do it on my own. At the back of my mind, I'm still calculating how risky it is for her. Would they mind if I have someone I keep in contact with? Wait, that's not right. In reality, the only people close to me who don't seem to be targeted are my co-workers. Other than them, everyone else who gets close is in danger. The level of closeness is a little hard to figure out, though. And given my gadgets' security, they shouldn't be able to know anything about her. Unless we get spotted, which would be the end of it.

I did have someone follow her and take some photos. Security. I wanted to make sure she's not being surveilled, except my own. I had to keep the soft copy of photos in a secured folder. She looked charming with all the kids around her. I could almost see her as a mother and raising her own kids. A life she couldn't have with me.

I don't think we've ever talked about her ideal man. I better ask when she chats again.

I found time to chat with her the next weekend. I do look forward to her replies.

On hindsight... why am I even interested? It was her who promised about the reply-thing, not me, so I can definitely send her two replies in sequence.

"Hi, free to chat?" Normal opening.

"Yeah? What are you up to?"

"Just wondering if you have more questions on you." I narrowed an eye on my phone. I almost set her photo as a wallpaper on it.

I looked around my room. I rarely go home. Normally, I live in the office.

"I'm curious. What's your ideal woman?"

I almost laughed at her question. Pretty much what's on my mind, too. What's her ideal man? And really, why do I even want to know? Deny it as much as I want.

"Gentle and kind. Beautiful. Wonderful personality. Easy to talk with." General statements that describe her.

"What's your ideal man?" I added before hitting send.

"Gentle and kind. Handsome. Wonderful personality. Easy to talk with." She only changed one word.

"How about amazing in bed?" I really shouldn't have asked.

"That, too." But she did reply. It was somewhat an ender to a conversation, though.

"What's your ideal date?" I thought I should be more proactive in these conversations if I want to know more about her.

"Date as in the act? Or date as in the guy? Wait, you already asked about the ideal man; this is the roses and dinner, right? Good food, good music, good conversation." She actually writes whatever's on her mind. Sometimes, I don't think she censors herself.

"What's good food, then?"

"Mine? I'm a meat lover. Steak, barbecue... I'm a healthy eater, too. So, I try to eat whatever my body needs. Yours?"

"Much the same as you. Good music?" I nudged the conversation along. I've already noticed before that we're almost alike, except for the career aspect.

"Mostly ballad for a date. Maybe some dance songs on a club, if we ever plan to dance."

"Too bad I don't dance. I do like ballads, though." I replied.

"And I think we both know what a good conversation is, though this is hardly it. I prefer seeing your reactions, not just imagining it over the phone."

"You only want to hit my arm when you laugh, admit it." She normally does, though it's only playful.

"And when you lookgrumpy, too." It took me a while to recall that. She does.