As soon as I stepped out of the elevator, I spotted a familiar face standing outside the building.
Siena was standing in front of a well-mannered young man, her face flushed as she spoke. She looked shy and demure, completely different from her usual self.
As I got closer, I heard her say that she moved in at the end of May, but Dr. Frye was so busy with work, leaving early and coming back late, that they rarely had a chance to meet.
When she looked up and our eyes met, the smile on her face froze.
At the breakfast shop near the community entrance, I asked Siena why she lied to me.
According to Daniella, Tate's head injury happened in April, but Siena didn't move in until late May. How could Tate have gotten hurt while looking for her?
The timeline didn't add up.
Why did she say those things to mislead me?
Siena stammered, unwilling to explain.
I said, "I already know Tate was faking it."
Seeing that the truth was out, Siena decided to come clean. "Daniella asked me to do it."
"She thought you and Tate were taking things too slowly—one pretending to be clueless, the other actually clueless, dragging things out without ever coming clean. She knew you had some misconceptions about my relationship with Tate and wanted to use me to provoke you into confronting him and clearing things up. She didn't expect you to be so upright and honest, though, that you'd send Tate to me for treatment. Well, that backfired. When Tate found out, he was furious."
My face darkened too.
My brain instinctively caught on to the key point, and I asked, "Misconception? So, you don't like Tate?"
"He's my cousin. How could I possibly like him?"
Me: "...You're not lying to me?"
Siena pulled out a family photo from her album and pointed to a graceful-looking aunt. "Tate's mother is my aunt."
Why didn't they mention they were related earlier?
At work, I resisted the urge to contact Tate all day. Even when he messaged me, I didn't reply.
It seemed like Siena had already told him about running into me.
By the time work ended, Tate couldn't hold back any longer and drove to pick me up.
I scoffed, "So you're not pretending anymore?"
He opened the passenger door for me, nervously biting his lip—a rare sight.
Tate explained that the day he came, he really did want to reconcile with me, and yes, he did get hit on the head. But it wasn't serious, and he recovered after a month of rest.
"Then why did you lie to me about having the mind of an eight-year-old?"
Tate was silent for a moment.
"At that time, you were disillusioned with me. A normal apology and explanation wouldn't have been enough for you to accept."
"You said I didn't care about you, that I wasn't willing to spend time and effort on you. So, after I got hurt that day, I came up with this plan to have an excuse to stay close to you."
His voice softened, "I just wanted to tell you that I like you, that you're important to me. I was too clumsy in the past, unable to find the right way to express it."
During the time when he was pretending to be less intelligent, the barriers between us seemed to disappear.
All his time, all his attention, was focused entirely on me.
"So what about your work these past two months?" I couldn't help but wonder, remembering how much of a workaholic he used to be.
He hesitated before replying, "When you weren't home, I'd log on and handle some work."
...Oh.
But there's still a problem unresolved.
"You were hospitalized for lung disease, and Siena was the one running around taking care of you. Compared to me, she seemed more like your girlfriend." I said, feeling wronged.
Tate found a spot to park the car, unfastened his seatbelt, and turned to face me with a soft tone. "During that time, you were busy dealing with inspections and preparing for your exam. You couldn't even sleep well at night. How could I bear to add more stress to you? As for Siena, she was trying to chase after my attending physician, which is why she was so diligent."
The attending physician, that must be Dr. Frye.
He does look pretty good.
I feigned indifference with an "Oh."
He slowly took my hand that was resting beside me and said softly, "Are you less upset now?"
"A little."
He leaned over, his face suddenly close, his eyes smiling. "Can I kiss you then?"
My heart skipped a beat, and I barely managed to muster some rationality, thinking it was too easy for him. "You used to keep a distance from me, so why are you suddenly wanting to kiss and hug now?"
He pondered. "Initially, it was because of my cleanliness issues. I wasn't used to being too close to people."
I glared at him. "You were disgusted by me?"
"Later, I tried it and found that I really liked it."
"Hmph."
"But you should know, men are more prone to impulse than women."
"..."
"I was afraid I might scare you, so I've been restraining myself."
"Why would I be scared?" I was super excited, okay!
"When we first started dating, you mentioned in a conversation that you were [molested] by your father's friend when you were a child, which left you with a deep shadow and a fear of men for a while."
?
I quickly explained, "That was just because I had a trauma with him!"
He smiled slightly. "So you don't have that with me?"
I swiftly changed the subject. "Anyway, why did you steal my... that?"
"I saw you wearing it and really liked it."
I angrily accused, "Pervert!"
"How about you wear it for me tonight?"
Ahhh... How can he be like this!
"I liked you better when you were acting dumb!" I shouted.
His smile widened. "Then I can pretend forever."
