Chapter 129- chaos

Chapter 129: Chapter 129- chaos If she never came back... that meant he would never see her again. Not ever. "No... no, that’s impossible! She can’t just... never come back!" Morrison refused to believe Lilian could be so final, so resolute. She was gentle, kind-hearted—she wouldn’t make a decision so merciless. "It’s what she said herself," Dave’s voice cut through his thoughts, calm and unyielding, before he fell in step with Laurent and walked away. Morrison suddenly felt a flicker of relief. Relief that at least Laurent hadn’t vanished somewhere unreachable, allowing him the chance—albeit slim—to express his heart in time, to try and make things right. He stood alone in the cavernous airport terminal, the emptiness around him amplifying the chaos inside. Always proud. Always suave. Always believing that only women could not live without him. But now... now he felt like he could not live at all. Because she was gone. Gone from his life. Gone from his world. Morrison knew he couldn’t drive home in this state. His mind was a storm, his heart a collapsing world. If he got behind the wheel like this, he’d only endanger himself—and maybe others. So he called Sean, asking him to come to the airport and drive him back. When Sean saw Morrison’s condition, he immediately understood—the boss had missed Lilian’s flight. A pang of sorrow struck him in sympathy, and on the way back, he couldn’t help but ask, "Boss... why did you two break up?" Sean had never understood it. Just a little while ago, Morrison and Lilian had seemed inseparable, bound together by a warmth and intimacy that made everyone else sigh in envy. And Morrison had even chased after her to A.T., hadn’t he? In private, Sean had talked to Norton about Morrison and Lilian. Both had thought they were perfect for each other. Even stoic, unexpressive Norton had called Lilian a truly comforting presence—someone who made life effortless. She was the ideal partner for a man like Morrison, whose mind was always racing, never at peace. Lilian was the kind of woman who didn’t demand or nag. She existed simply and beautifully; her presence was enough, and her absence wasn’t forced. The two friends had even imagined being Morrison’s best men at his wedding—a striking pair of young men, a perfect complement to his grandeur. But now... it seemed the wedding, if there was ever going to be one, might happen without him. Morrison closed his eyes and leaned back into the seat, his voice hoarse, strained. "If I told you... I broke up with her because I’m terrified... terrified of spending a lifetime with someone... would you believe me?" Sean froze, taken aback by the confession. And yet, he understood. He had known Morrison long enough to see the truth behind the charm. Behind the endless string of brief romances, the effortless conquests, the playboy façade... there had always been a fear. A fear of attachment, a fear of giving himself fully, of being tied to one person for the rest of his life. Sean thought, maybe Lilian could have been the exception. Now... it seemed he had overestimated the power of love. Not that Morrison’s feelings weren’t real—he looked miserable enough—but perhaps he had realized the truth of love a little too late. Sean glanced at him again and asked cautiously, "What about now... what are you thinking?" Morrison gave a bitter smile, lifting his hand to cover his face. His voice was low, almost a whisper, "Now... I just want to spend the rest of my life alone." No. Not alone. Morrison felt like he couldn’t live the rest of his life at all. If he had known that breaking up with her would lead to this—her resolute departure, leaving everything behind—he would have never done it. He was thirty-three, with a reputation for countless romances, seemingly adept at navigating the tangled webs of love. He had survived entanglements with Dave and Laurent, appeared calm and composed... yet when confronted with real love, he was utterly unprepared. That’s why, under the weight of eternal promises, he had panicked and ended things. He had feared failing her, feared dragging out a love that might eventually sour, so he chose the shortest pain, thinking it would spare both of them. But it was a mistake. A catastrophic mistake. Morrison sank into a fog of gloom, throwing himself into work as though he could drown his regrets. Sean thought he might just take him home, but Morrison insisted on returning to the office. There, he buried himself in endless tasks, working like a man possessed. Sean and Norton spent the day in a whirlwind, barely pausing to breathe. Sean didn’t mind—he was single, after all. If Morrison wanted to self-destruct, he could at least accompany him in solidarity. But Norton... Norton had a girlfriend. And she was formidable. Norton had planned a dinner with Monna, intending afterwards to go shopping for gifts for his parents—Friday was when he would bring Monna home. Monna, a woman who valued propriety, insisted on picking gifts herself. Yet, as the workday drew to a close, Morrison still refused to let them leave. Not out of malice—but because Morrison had piled on so much work that Norton couldn’t possibly finish it. Norton explained the situation to Monna, asking her to wait patiently. At first, Monna understood, letting Norton focus, waiting downstairs. But minutes stretched into an eternity. Frustrated, she called him repeatedly. Norton, just finishing the last of his tasks, was about to pack up when Morrison issued even more orders. He groaned, caught between work and Monna’s growing impatience. He whispered an explanation to her, mentioning Morrison’s heartbreak, hoping she would understand. Monna did understand—but she was furious. She hung up and stormed straight to MOS Corp., taking the elevator to the top floor. Monna and Morrison had known each other for years, a mutual respect between them. She was capable, assertive, and sharp-minded, qualities Morrison admired. Were it not for her gender and the subtle hints of admiration she had shown in the past, they could have been solid friends. But now, she stormed into Morrison’s office, high heels clicking against the floor, her presence a whirlwind of righteous anger. She planted herself firmly in front of his desk and didn’t hesitate to speak her mind: "Morrison, are you insane? You break up with someone, and now you sit here drowning in your misery? And you drag everyone else into your chaos? Do you even have the right to make others pay for your heartbreak?" Monna had always been bold, brash, and unafraid to speak her mind. Her familiarity with Morrison only amplified her audacity. Just now, she had overheard Norton briefly explain some of the entanglements between Morrison and Lilian, and her anger flared at the thought of Morrison heartlessly discarding her. Had it been in the past, when Monna still held a secret fondness for Morrison, she might have rejoiced at his heartbreak. But now... her heart belonged to Norton. She no longer fancied any other man, not even Morrison, who had once occupied a corner of her thoughts. This was the difference between people: some were content with what they had, others always hungered for more. Monna belonged to the former; Morrison... well, he belonged to the latter. Morrison lifted his head from the mountain of documents in front of him, his gaze meeting Monna’s fierce glare and then sweeping over the Norton-Sean duo who had entered with her. His eyes flicked to his watch. If not for Monna’s dramatic intrusion, he wouldn’t even have realized the day had ended. He had been lost in his work, mechanically ticking off task after task. Norton and Sean were diligent enough not to remind him that it was time to leave, so he had unwittingly dragged them into overtime. But Monna... she had a knack for saying the things he hated most. And of course, she said them all. Monna looped her arm through Norton’s, flicking her chin at Morrison. "You want to self-destruct? Well, Norton’s not joining you!" She scoffed and added, "Not just Norton... Sean isn’t sticking around either!" Turning toward Sean, she declared, "Sean, let’s go. He can indulge in his self-torture alone!" With that, she tugged Norton toward the door. Sean gave an awkward chuckle, frozen in place. The boss hadn’t said a word, so he dared not move—though he very much wanted to. Norton, however, was being dragged along, sighing in exasperation. If Monna’s earlier insistence that he choose between her and Morrison had been a test, this time her forceful dragging left him no choice—he had to side with her. Go with her... or stay and work overtime with Morrison. But Norton no longer felt frustrated. He understood Monna’s insistence wasn’t just stubbornness—it was concern for him. He hadn’t eaten all day, and hunger had left him dizzy. Morrison had to admit: the sight of Monna holding Norton’s arm, her protectiveness and affection shining so clearly, pierced him straight through. Their display of intimacy left him wounded, though he could not help but acknowledge it: a perfect one hundred points for them. "Fine. You two go home. That’s enough for today," Morrison finally said, his voice cold and detached. Then, without another word, he lowered his head and returned to his work. Sean, being single himself, lingered a little in Morrison’s office, watching him work with quiet concern. After a moment, he asked cautiously, "Boss... what about dinner? Should I order something for you?" Morrison shook his head. "No need—" He had no appetite. No mind for food. Not even a thought to pause and reflect. Because as long as he kept moving, kept working, kept himself busy, his heart didn’t twist into unbearable knots.