Chapter 9
That evening, I had an unexpected encounter during my walk.
My handbag was snatched right out of my hands.
Instinctively, I tried to chase after the thief.
But my stamina was lacking, and I was soon out of breath, stopping in my tracks.
The thought of my phone and ID being in that bag made me
anxious.
As I stood there, frustrated and uncertain, a figure appeared in front of me.
I looked up in shock and saw Mark Moore wearing a smile.
He handed me the handbag he’d retrieved. “What a coincidence.”
It really was a coincidence.
A month ago, at Costal City airport, I’d accidentally taken Mark’s suitcase instead of mine.
When I apologized, he just smiled and said, “No problem.”
Our second meeting was when I got lost at a tourist spot.
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Mark, wearing a baseball cap, waved to me from a short distance, saying, “We meet again.”
Under the sunlight, his smile was both carefree and radiant.
This was our third meeting, and once again, Mark was helping me
out.
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I thanked him, and Mark raised an eyebrow playfully.
“If you really want to thank me, how about treating me to a late–night snack? I haven’t had dinner yet and I’m starving.”
There was a hint of a playful pout in his voice.
I couldn’t help but smile, “Sure.”
I said I’d be paying, but halfway through the meal, Mark discreetly took care of the bill.
I pulled out my phone. “Let me transfer the money to you.”
Mark suddenly pressed his hand over mine, stopping me from tapping the screen. “No need.”
His cool fingers against my skin felt a bit unsettling.
I awkwardly pulled my hand back, giving a sheepish laugh. “Well, I’ll treat you next time.”
He maintained his usual calm demeanor, withdrawing his hand
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Chapter 9
and saying, “Sounds good.”
As I got to know Mark better, I learned he was 21, five years younger than me, and from Hanker City, just like me.
Mark had recently returned from studying abroad and would be working for his father after this break.
Though he spoke subtly, his refined demeanor hinted at a wealthy. background.
I wasn’t interested in prying into his personal life, so I didn’t ask too many questions.
Over the month, Mark showed me around the city.
I must admit that he was an excellent guide.
Despite his age, he was surprisingly mature and considerate.
Once, I joked, “With your youth, how come you act so much like my dad?”
He didn’t mind my comparison and responded with a grin, “I remember you saying that your mom was really happy with your dad.
“If you think I’m like him, I’ll just take it as a compliment.”
Alright, if he wanted to see it that way, I was fine with it.
