Chapter 80: Elias Mercer's Voice Sounded Muffled Behind His Mask

"I came back to grab some clean clothes. The lab still has work waiting."

Elias Mercer's voice sounded muffled behind his mask, which covered most of his face, revealing only tired eyes.

"Wait a moment."

Clara Whitmore hurried into the bedroom and returned with an insulated bag.

"This is ginger tea I made last night. Drink it while it's still warm."

At the mention of ginger, Elias's brow furrowed slightly. Clara didn't notice as she continued, "There's also cold medicine inside. The dosage instructions are written on the box."

Elias rarely got sick. Staring at the bag, he felt the unfamiliar urge to refuse.

"If it weren't for me yesterday, you wouldn't have caught a cold."

Her words made him retract his hesitating hand.

He checked his watch. Time was tight.

"Thanks. I'll drink it."

She gently closed the door after watching his hurried departure.

Her desk was piled with research materials, the computer screen still glowing. Clara dove back into revising her thesis, fingers flying across the keyboard.

The German literature Professor Miriam Caldwell provided was filled with technical terms, forcing her to constantly consult dictionaries.

Just as she focused, her phone rang sharply.

The interruption irritated her, but she answered anyway.

"Hello?"

"I owe you an apology for yesterday. There are things I need to say in person."

Connor Hayes's voice came through the receiver.

Clara stayed silent for a beat. She had things to say too.

After hanging up, she steadied herself, pushing Grant Holloway's furious expression from her mind before resuming work.

* * *

The agreed café was near Ashford University.

Wind chimes tinkled as she entered.

Connor sat by the window in his usual spot, turning as if sensing her presence.

Today he wore a deep blue shirt with the collar slightly open, sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms. Girls at nearby tables stole glances.

Clara sat directly across from him.

"What would you like to drink?" Connor asked.

"Nothing." She cut to the chase. "I came to make things clear."

He smiled. "Funny, so did I. Every word I said yesterday was sincere."

"But I don't like you." Clara met his gaze. "There's no chance for us."

"Nothing in this world is absolute." His tone remained unhurried. "As long as the outcome is good, what does it matter if the path is winding?"

This was typical Connor—once he set his mind to something, he wouldn't relent.

He had patience. He could wait.

Just like how Grant had persistently pursued her until he succeeded.

If Grant could do it, why couldn't he?