“The client’s side needs to get moving too. Mike, you and Randy get going immediately. If you can’t get the client on board, don’t bother coming back!”

The director’s roar crackled through the phone, sharp as a whip across Mike’s eardrums. Earlier that day at the liaison meeting, the client had sent only a junior engineer; the department head and plant manager were nowhere in sight. The carefully prepared gifts lay undelivered, the reception downgraded. With a project worth two hundred million hanging in the balance, the director’s fury was inevitable.

The site lay hidden in a remote town, six hours from the provincial capital. No car rentals, just a lone daily bus. The road was narrow, rutted, punishing—by the time they arrived, Mike and Randy were dizzy and nauseous.

“Still texting? Aren’t you tired?” Mike asked, holding his stomach.

Randy smirked, thumbs flying. “What do you know? Got a sweetheart here. Already booked a hotel—saved you from sleeping on the street.”

“Booked what? Don’t tell me it’s just for yourself.”

Mike rolled his eyes. “I thought you were only flirting again.”

“Heh. Gotta balance work and life, right?” Randy’s grin turned sly. “Read this book once—Six Degrees of Separation. Any two people on earth are just six connections apart. So meet more people. Who knows, maybe you’ll grab coffee with Bill Gates one day. But you? Stop drowning in that Lotus girl. You’ll go crazy. Keep it light. Getting serious will kill you.”

Mike turned to the window, watching the gray fields blur past. But Randy’s words stabbed into him, sharp and lingering.

________________________________________

He remembered week ago—fresh off a business trip, he’d rushed to message Lotus after filing his report: I’m back. I miss you.

Her reply was instant: Where are you? Send me your address.

I’m at the office, heading to the hotel now.

I’ll be there in half an hour.

Heart racing like a teenager sneaking to a secret date, Mike had all but sprinted back. He’d barely dropped his suitcase when the knock came.

She slipped inside, small frame colliding into his arms. No words—just the weight of too many days apart. Back against the door, her lips met his, and his world split like thunder. Reason vanished, hesitation gone.

What followed was a storm—clothes torn away, breathless kisses, a tumble into fire and chaos. Mike surrendered to it, carried to the cliff’s edge by a force greater than himself.

Afterward, the silence was heavy. Lotus’s shoulders trembled. Mike pulled the blanket around her.

“Cold?” he asked softly.

Her whisper was thinner than air. “No… I just can’t stop shaking. I wasn’t ready… I’m embarrassed.”

The clock ticked. She bolted upright. “I have to pick up my daughter from kindergarten.”

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving Mike motionless on the bed, dazed.

Minutes—or hours—later, Randy knocked.

“Hey, Mike! Got a secret lover in there? I just saw a woman leaving your room. Don’t tell me it’s Lotus, the one who calls every night.”

Mike forced a casual shrug. “Just coffee and a chat.”

“Ha! Don’t play dumb. Her hair was still wet. So? How was it? How long?”

Mike’s face burned.

Randy cracked a beer. “Man, I’ve never even met a virgin. My wife wasn’t, none of my girlfriends were. Shame, huh? Anyway—don’t overthink. Women like that? They vanish if you get serious. After this job, let’s find some real fun. My treat.”

His laughter drilled into Mike’s skull, leaving his chest hollow.

________________________________________

The next days blurred. At work, Mike went through the motions—organizing files, preparing notes, attending meetings. At night, he rushed back to his room, logging into the chatroom.

But Lotus was gone.

Only “Autumn” and “Alex” were online.

Where’s Lotus? he typed.

“No idea,” Alex replied. “Maybe family stuff? You two fight?”

“No. I just got back from a trip. Haven’t seen her around.”

“Don’t lie, kid. I’ve known her for years—like a sister to me. You better not be playing her.”

Mike forced a laugh. “Relax. You know me.”

Days passed. No messages. No calls answered. No sign of her online.

Then, one night, a post appeared on the forum:

Taking a break. Don’t wait for me.

Signed only with a lotus emoji.

Mike stared at it, frozen. Should he reply? His chest swung between anger and guilt. Was she playing me? The thought seared him. Then came the crushing weight: What if she was in trouble, and he wasn’t there?

He drank too much, fingers trembling as he typed: If I did something wrong, please tell me, okay?

By morning, the screen was still blank.

Another message tumbled out: I miss your smile. I miss your voice. Even just seeing you from far away would be enough. Where are you?

Nothing.

Randy caught his hollow look. “Told you. Women are either playmates or trouble. Don’t get invested.”

Mike gave only a bitter smile.

________________________________________

That night, smoke coiled around him as he sat by the hotel window, cigarette glowing in the dark. He scrolled through old chats, thumb hovering over the “Delete” button. But he couldn’t press it.

On impulse, he opened the train app, nearly bought a ticket back to the city. At the last second, he canceled.

He exhaled hard, and stood up.

Outside, under the streetlamp, a moth fluttered, desperate, fragile, drawn toward the flame. Mike felt the same.

The cigarette burned his fingers. He crushed it in the ashtray as if to smother the ache inside—though he knew he’d light another soon.

He closed his eyes, and the memory struck again: Lotus’s damp hair, trembling shoulders, the redness at the corners of her eyes.

“Maybe… I really was wrong,” he whispered.

“But I still want to see her again.”