After the bidding concluded, the expert panel and company representatives departed one after another, restoring the hotel to its usual tranquility. Only Mike remained. A knot lingered in his heart—he had to see Lea, to thank her in person. Half a month had passed since the winning bid was announced, yet he hadn’t glimpsed her once, as if she had quietly faded from his world.

In the café’s afternoon light, sunshine streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, scattering golden patches across the carpet. The warmth in the air felt deceptive, masking an undercurrent of unease. At last, Mike saw Lea. She looked thinner, her face pale, two heavy dark circles shadowing her eyes. Even the coffee cup in her hand trembled slightly.

“Lea, thank you. Without you passing along that message, we might have lost everything.” Mike’s voice carried both gratitude and guilt. He pulled an envelope from his bag and pushed it toward her. “Here’s ten thousand dollars. The company asked me to give this to you.”

Lea’s fingertips brushed the envelope before she pushed it back firmly. “No. I can’t take this.” Her voice was steady, though tinged with sorrow. “Bob quit. He said he couldn’t forgive himself.” She lowered her head, tracing the edge of the table as if holding back tears.

Mike froze, a weight pressing against his chest. “What are his plans? Is there anything I can do?”

Lea lifted her gaze, tears shimmering in her eyes. “He got accepted to the University of Adelaide. He’s leaving for Australia next month.” Her voice caught, each word heavy with unspoken pain.

Mike stayed silent for a long moment. Then he slid the envelope back toward her. “Use it for his plane ticket. Call it my farewell gift.” His tone was gentle, but inside he felt as though a blade had cut through him.

Lea clutched her coffee cup tightly, hesitating before whispering, “I’m going with Bob too… as atonement.” Her words were barely audible, her eyes avoiding his.

Mike’s throat tightened. He could only pat her shoulder firmly, a gesture laden with reluctance and complexity. Then he rose, his silhouette in the sunlight stark and solitary, as though he carried a burden too heavy to bear.

________________________________________

Stepping out of the café, Mike felt suffocated, as if a boulder pressed against his chest. He knew full well—his choices had ruined Bob’s future and left Lea carrying invisible scars. Guilt surged like a tidal wave, threatening to drown him.

He returned to the bar where he had once drunk with Randy. The lights glowed dimly; stale tobacco and faint alcohol hung heavy in the air. Mike sat at the counter, ordered whiskey, and watched amber liquid swirl around melting ice. The first burning sip slid down his throat, offering only fleeting relief. But Lea’s weary eyes and her final words—atone for it—echoed endlessly in his mind.

The bar was noisy—regulars laughing, the bartender mixing drinks—but to Mike, it all faded into distant static. The bidding victory, once cause for celebration, now felt like a thorn lodged in his chest.

Then came the sound of familiar heels on the wooden floor. Fonda breezed in, her clutch swinging, her smile carefree. She spotted Mike immediately, gave his shoulder a friendly slap. “Hey, drinking alone? You won the bid—shouldn’t you be celebrating?”

She slid onto the stool beside him, poured herself a glass, and downed it in one motion. Her lips left a faint trace on the rim as her eyes sparkled with teasing light. To her, his troubles were nothing but a passing game.

Mike muttered, “Lea’s leaving. It’s my fault.”

Fonda exhaled smoke, her voice tinged with fatalistic calm. “It’s fate. Spiritual resonance, sexual harmony, financial freedom—an impossible triangle. Redemption was her choice. Australia might be a new beginning.”

Mike tapped his fingers against the bar, giving a bitter laugh. “Impossible triangle? Sounds like business trade-offs.” He thought of Lotus’s guarded insistence on paying interest, overlaying it with Lea’s tired, hollow eyes.

Fonda chuckled. “You’re too harsh. Lea staked her love on you. And what did she get? Vows may be made, but promises are hard to keep.”

Mike’s eyes reddened as he drained his glass. “What about you, Fonda? Do you love Randy?”

Her smile stiffened for a heartbeat, then melted into nonchalance. “Me? We’re partners, that’s all. Sweet words when we’re together, freedom when we’re apart. No strings, no cages.” She leaned back, eyes glinting with mischief. “Ever hear this story?

A monk was asked, ‘What have you practiced all these years?’ He answered, ‘Carrying water, chopping wood, tending the fire.’ They pressed further: ‘But what changed after decades of the same three things?’ The monk replied, ‘At first, while carrying water, I thought about chopping wood. While chopping wood, I thought about tending the fire. Now, when I carry water, I think only of carrying water. When I chop wood, only of chopping wood. When I tend the fire, only of tending the fire.’”

Mike listened in silence, staring into his glass. Slowly, his restless mind quieted. Perhaps this was Fonda’s wisdom—living in the present, free of impossible triangles. But for him, that simplicity was long gone, shattered by choices and regrets.

The blues music in the bar sank lower, lingering like smoke. Outside, night deepened. For Mike, the true journey of atonement had only just begun.