Angel Face ➽ DAERIN

Chapter 9

ANTON

The days that followed our last conversation felt like a blur of restless nights and aimless wandering. I found myself ensconced in a bubble of solitary isolation, deliberately avoiding everyone and everything around me. I needed space—time to process the emotional whirlwind that had been set off by our encounter.

The first day after Gab's unexpected appearance at the driveway, I stayed in my room, shrouded in silence. I couldn't bear to face anyone, not even my family. The thought of encountering Gab again or having to discuss the situation made me feel like I was walking on a tightrope stretched over a chasm. Every noise, every movement in the house seemed magnified, as though it was a reminder of the mess I was tangled in.

My interactions with Maliah and Viella were kept to the bare minimum. I offered polite nods and forced smiles at breakfast, excusing myself as soon as possible. I would retreat to my room, only coming out when absolutely necessary. Even when I did venture out, it was to take long, aimless walks around the property or to find a secluded spot to sit and think. My usual routine of work and social engagements was set aside, replaced by an overwhelming sense of introspection and confusion.

I knew I needed to make a change. I had always been able to bury myself in my work when things got tough, but now even that seemed too close, too tangled with the complications of my personal life. I made the decision to ask my dad for a transfer to another branch, a place where I could escape the immediate chaos and find some semblance of clarity.

The morning I made the request, I approached him with a heavy heart. His office was typically a place of calm and order, but today it felt like the walls were closing in on me.

"Dad, can we talk?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady as I knocked and entered his office.

He looked up from his desk, his expression one of mild surprise. "Of course, Anton. What's on your mind?"

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what I was about to ask. "I've been feeling overwhelmed lately. I need some time away from here. I was hoping you could arrange for me to be transferred to another branch. Just for a while."

His brows furrowed in concern. "Is everything okay? I thought you were doing well with your current responsibilities."

"It's not about the work," I replied, feeling a knot tighten in my stomach. "It's more about needing a change of scenery, a break from everything here. I just need some time to sort things out for myself."

He studied me for a moment, a flicker of understanding passing over his face. "If that's what you need, then we can arrange it. I won't question it further. Just let me know which branch you'd like to be transferred to, and I'll handle it."

"Thank you," I said, relief washing over me. "I appreciate it."

As I walked out of his office, I felt a wave of mixed emotions—relief, apprehension, and a lingering sadness. The prospect of working elsewhere provided a temporary escape, but it also meant confronting my unresolved feelings in a different setting.

I spent the next few days preparing for the transfer, ensuring that my responsibilities were handed over smoothly and that everything was in order before I left. My interactions with the world outside remained minimal; I avoided social gatherings and turned down invitations, preferring the quiet solitude of my own thoughts.

It was a strange, almost disorienting experience—this self-imposed exile. I was so used to being busy and engaged with life, but now, it felt as though I was drifting through a fog of introspection. Every now and then, I would catch myself thinking about Gab, wondering where she was, what she was doing, and whether our paths would cross again. The uncertainty of it all weighed heavily on me.

In the quiet moments, I would find myself reflecting on our last conversation, the way she had looked at me with those familiar, searching eyes. The emotions that had surged through me were still raw, and the decision to step away from it all was both a retreat and a chance to find some clarity. I hoped that by removing myself from the immediate environment, I could begin to untangle the knot of feelings that had been tightly wound around my heart.

⁞

The transfer was finalised sooner than I expected. It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders as I packed my belongings and prepared to move to the new branch. The branch itself was located in a quieter area, far removed from the bustling city life I had grown accustomed to. The calm and serenity of the new location was both a blessing and a challenge.

On my first day at the new branch, I was greeted by the staff and given a brief tour of the facility. The atmosphere was markedly different from the previous branch—more subdued, almost tranquil. It was a stark contrast to the vibrant energy that had once surrounded me, and I found myself absorbing the calm with mixed feelings.

To my surprise, I was offered the penthouse suite to stay in while I was working at this branch. It was a generous offer, intended to save me from the hassle of commuting back and forth. The penthouse was modern and spacious, with large windows that let in plenty of natural light. It was everything I could have hoped for in a temporary home, but it also felt oddly isolating.

I accepted the offer with gratitude but couldn't shake off a sense of unease. The isolation was almost too perfect—a retreat from the noise and chaos, yet it also meant I was completely removed from familiar faces and surroundings. It was a stark departure from the life I had known, and it made me question whether this change was for the better or if it was merely another way of avoiding the complexities I was facing.

The penthouse had a serene, almost clinical quality to it. It was beautifully decorated, but its pristine and impersonal nature felt like a stark reminder of my self-imposed isolation. There were no traces of the chaos or the emotional turbulence I had experienced at the other branch—no signs of Gab, no reminders of our shared past.

I found myself wandering through the spacious living area, the quietude almost deafening in its own way. Every corner of the penthouse was meticulously arranged, and I could see that it was designed to be a retreat from the outside world. While the lack of reminders of Gab was a relief, it also made me ponder the nature of my decision.

Was this quiet refuge a blessing or a curse? It was exactly what I needed in terms of physical space, but emotionally, it left me grappling with my unresolved feelings. The absence of familiar faces and the starkness of my new surroundings left me with a lot of time to think, which only seemed to amplify my internal struggles.

As I settled into my new temporary home, I couldn't help but reflect on the last few days. The new branch offered a fresh start, a break from the chaos of the past weeks. Yet, as I sat in the sleek, modern penthouse, I wondered if I was truly escaping the issues or simply prolonging the inevitable confrontation with my emotions.

With each passing day, I hoped that the quiet would bring me the clarity I needed, that this separation would allow me to heal and come to terms with everything that had happened. But as I looked out over the tranquil landscape from my new home, I found myself yearning for a sign—any sign—that I was making the right choice and that, eventually, I would find my way through the fog of confusion and uncertainty that had enveloped me.