The Wrong Woman

"Where's Candice," asked Elio.

"Mr. Hoffis, Candice just left with her bag," the employee replied respectfully.

Without a word, Elio turned and dashed toward the elevator, jabbing the button impatiently. As he watched the floor numbers shift slowly, he pulled out his phone and dialed Candice's number.

He listened to the connecting tone for a while before the call suddenly dropped. He dialed again, only for Candice to disconnect once more. After the third attempt ended in the same manner, he gave up resignedly.

By the time Elio made it outside the first-floor lobby, Candice was nowhere to be found. Feeling dejected, he returned upstairs. He was distracted all day, unable to concentrate on his work.

As night descended, the neon lights from outside illuminated Elio through the glass window. He stood by the window staring at the night sky with his hands in his pockets.

The bustling street below sharply contrasted with the emptiness he felt inside. He couldn't fathom why Candice had behaved this way.

and spoke,

the dimly lit room, exuding a chill that discouraged anyone from drawing

with his loving wife at home, eagerly waiting for him to return and warm their

planned on working overtime again that night. Even though the extra pay was a welcome bonus, it did little to lift

he asked, "Mr. Hoffis, is something

to the side, standing stiffly as

Elio stayed silent, his expression stony as he stared out

much internal debate, he finally decided to broach the

to look at him, his gaze

throat tightened, his back rigid as a shiver of cold sweat broke out on his forehead. It looked like

sparked by the film he sent to Elio? Was

Hoffis, women can be quite sensitive. A clear explanation might help her understand.