Joyce stared at the intricate compass in her hands, her fingers gently fidgeting in her lap beneath the table. “I watched them,” she hesitated, unsure how to address him, “… Mr. Hann. Every one of them.”
Hann’s eyes widened, surprise flickering in his expression. “You did?” His voice was barely a whisper, though the name—Mr. Hann—clenched his heart a little. It felt like a wall between them, a reminder of the distance he had once tried to maintain.
Joyce nodded, finally lifting her gaze to meet his. “I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t expect… any of this.”
Silence settled between them, heavy yet necessary, before she continued. “When I left for my trip, I was trying to move on. After our dinner that night, I understood clearly that you would like to keep a distance between us, to stay professional and nothing more."
Hann's heart clenched even more hearing this as Joyce continued. "So, I respected that, I just... I needed time to heal, after all these years.” Her voice softened. “And I did, or at least I thought I did. I felt ready to come home. But then I saw your videos, and everything came rushing back. I don’t know what to do with all of this sudden change. I’m scared.”
Hann leaned forward, resting his hands on the table, his expression earnest. "Joyce, I'm scared too. I know I hurt you, and I probably don't deserve another chance, but I can't pretend anymore now that I've understood what I feel. I've missed you more than I can say. I just... I need to know where you stand. I'm willing to wait as long as it takes."
Joyce took a slow, deep breath, her emotions swirling within her. “I prayed about this. I asked God to guide me, to show me if this was the right path. But I’m still waiting for clarity.” A small, bittersweet smile tugged at her lips. “I don’t want to rush into anything anymore, Mr. Hann. I don’t want us to get hurt again.”
That 'Mr. Hann' stung more than he expected. He now understood the pain Joyce must have felt every time he kept his distance. With a solemn nod, Hann’s expression grew serious. “I understand. I’ll give you all the space you need.”
A pause lingered in the air, the weight of their conversation heavy, but the quiet of the cafe offered a momentary escape from the bustle outside. Just as Joyce thought the conversation was winding down, Hann raised his hand to signal the waiter.
“I’d like to order dessert for us,” Hann said, catching Joyce’s gaze with a warmth that softened the tension. He turned to the waiter, saying, “One tiramisu, please. And... can you make it heart-shaped?” He added the last request with a small smile, not quite embarrassed but clearly conscious of its significance.
That request, though simple, carried a weight that wasn’t lost on Joyce. Her heart skipped a beat, recalling the heart-shaped tiramisu they shared from that dinner two weeks ago—during one of her saddest moments.
The waiter nodded and hurried off, and they shared a comfortable silence for a moment. When the dessert arrived, it wasn't as finely crafted as the signature one at the restaurant, but the gesture itself was enough to touch Joyce deeply. The slightly uneven heart shape held more meaning now than it had back then, and Hann's effort to recreate that moment showed more than words could.
He gently pushed the plate toward her, his gaze steady. “I know this won’t fix everything,” he said quietly, “but I wanted to remind you of something we shared—of the beginning of something real between us.”
A lump formed in Joyce’s throat. She hesitated before taking a small bite, the bittersweet flavors mingling with the complex emotions swirling inside her.
"That's thoughtful, Mr. Hann. And this tiramisu... it tastes nice too," she said softly, her voice carrying the unspoken gratitude she struggled to express. "Thank you... for all of this."
Hann watched as she took another bite. The soft smile on his lips was both gentle and hopeful. As Joyce slowly made her way through the dessert, she paused, noticing that Hann hadn’t touched his spoon. She glanced at the untouched dessert spoon by his side and, without thinking, offered it to him—just as she had done two weeks ago, with the same slight tremble in her hand.
“It’s delicious,” she said, smiling. “I thought you might like to try it.”
Hann’s eyes lit up, his smile widening. He accepted the spoon without hesitation, his fingers brushing hers lightly as he took it. The familiar motion, so similar to the scene from their past dinner, sent a pang of guilt and regret through his chest. But this time, there was something different—a quiet understanding that made the gesture all the more significant.
Together, they finished the imperfect heart-shaped tiramisu, the sweetness lingering far beyond the taste itself. When the time came to leave, Hann stood to help Joyce gather her things.
“Let me walk you out,” he offered, his tone steady but gentle. She didn’t protest.
As they left their table, Hann walked beside her, his presence steady, close enough to offer comfort but not overwhelming. They moved quietly into the lift and down the building, and though no words were spoken, there was an unspoken sense of something new between them—fragile, but not lost.
Outside, the afternoon sun draped soft shadows across the pavement. Hann walked with Joyce to the waiting Grab car she had ordered, and they both lingered for a moment, suspended between parting and holding on.
"I meant what I said," Hann murmured, turning to face her, his voice sincere. "I'll give you all the time and space you need, but I'm not going anywhere, Joyce. Not anymore."
Joyce swallowed, her emotions swirling like a storm—torn between hope and fear, past and future. "I believe you, Mr. Hann," she whispered, her voice almost lost in the hum of passing cars. "But I just need some time."
Hann nodded, his expression soft but determined. "I understand. One step at a time. We don’t have to figure everything out right now."
For a brief moment, they stood there, neither wanting to leave the fragile moment behind. Hann reached for her hand, gently pressing it, before letting go.
"Take care, Joyce," he said quietly, his eyes lingering on hers.
"Take care, Mr. Hann," she replied, but there was a hesitation in her voice.
Hann's chest tightened. He had to speak now, before the ache in his heart became unbearable. "Please," he said, his voice softer, almost pleading, "call me Hann." The formality of "Mr. Hann" had been a shield, one that now felt like a chasm between them, each use of it another tear in the delicate fabric of their reconnection.
Joyce looked up, and in that fleeting moment, she saw the hurt in his eyes, a vulnerability that mirrored her own. She nodded, her agreement silent but understood.
With a final glance, she stepped into the car, her heart heavy with conflicting emotions. As the vehicle pulled away, she looked back through the window, watching Hann—his figure growing smaller, yet steadfast, hands buried in his pockets, unmoving until the car disappeared around the corner.
***
By the time Joyce left the Langford Group headquarters, the weight of her conversation with Hann clung to her. The compass she had given him seemed heavier in her thoughts than it had in her hands, its symbolic meaning stirring up the uncertainty gnawing at her heart.
The crisp Monday air did little to clear the fog in her mind. Almost on instinct, her hand reached for her phone, fingers scrolling through her contact list. She paused when she reached Kaylee’s name. Kaylee, the friend who had always grounded her, who reminded her of Christ when everything else seemed uncertain.
With a sigh, Joyce quickly typed a message:
"Hi Kaylee, I'm back. Can we catch up this week? I really need to talk. How's lunch tomorrow?"
The reply came almost immediately:
"Hey Joyce, so good to hear from you! Sure, how about Tuesday, 12.30pm at our usual cafe? I'll be there."
Relief washed over Joyce. Talking to Kaylee had a way of untangling the knots in her mind, and she could already hear her friend's calm, steady voice offering wisdom. Maybe it was exactly what she needed.
***
Hann strode back into the office building with a grin he couldn’t quite suppress. His mind was still filled with the memory of Joyce—the way her eyes softened when she accepted the tiramisu, the quiet conviction in her voice when she said, “I believe you.” It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and now, the memory replayed in his head on an endless loop.
As the lift doors slid shut, he caught his reflection in the polished metal—grinning like a lovesick fool. He shook his head, but the smile wouldn’t fade.
I actually hugged her, Hann thought, replaying the moment when he and Joyce had embraced at the lobby waiting area. He could still feel the softness of her hair against his cheek, the way her arms had hesitated for only a second before she hugged him back. It had been brief, but it had sealed something between them—a fragile but real hope that they were finally moving forward.
By the time he reached his floor, Hann had barely noticed how many colleagues were giving him curious glances as he walked past them. Some smirked, others whispered behind their hands, and a few gave him knowing looks.
"Hey, Hann!" someone from the marketing team called out as he passed by the glass meeting rooms. "You look like you're walking on clouds, man. Good day?"
Hann just chuckled and waved it off, heading toward his office, his cheeks beginning to ache from all the smiling. Dropping into his chair, spinning once just because he felt like it.
Joyce... The thought of her still lingered, and he rested his chin in his hand, staring off into space with a dopey expression he would have been embarrassed about if he could see himself now.
"Hann."
The sudden voice snapped him back to reality. He straightened in his chair, eyes widening as he saw President Victor standing in the doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised.
Victor stepped inside, his expression teetering between amusement and exasperation. "I don't know if you've noticed, but you're supposed to be working, not daydreaming about your love life."
Hann blinked, trying to scramble for an excuse. "Uh... sorry, I..."
Victor raised a hand, cutting him off with a chuckle. "It's fine, just tone it down a little." He smirked. "The entire office saw you hugging Joyce in the lobby, by the way."
Hann’s face flushed, and he scratched the back of his neck sheepishly. "Oh... that."
Victor moved closer, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "I've seen you with a dark cloud hanging over you for weeks. Honestly, I wasn’t going to say anything, but... seeing you smile like an idiot today? It’s good."
Hann blinked, taken aback by the sincerity in Victor’s voice. "Thanks, President Vic."
Victor shrugged, his expression softening. "Just don’t let it distract you from work. We’ve got a lot on our plate."
"Of course," Hann replied, his grin returning.
Victor turned to leave, but before stepping out, he glanced over his shoulder. "And Hann, for what it’s worth—I’m happy for you. Joyce makes you a better man."
Hann’s chest swelled with gratitude. "She does."
Victor waved a hand dismissively. "Good. Now get back to work before you get us both in trouble."
As soon as Victor was gone, Hann relaxed back in his chair, running a hand through his hair and letting out a deep breath. It had only been a few hours since he had seen Joyce, but already it felt like his entire world had changed.
Two weeks ago, he had been walking into this office feeling numb, unsure of whether they had any future at all. His heart had been heavy with regret, and every time he passed the lobby, he had wondered if he would ever get the chance to fix things.
But now... now everything was different. The surprise of seeing her today, her presence suddenly right in front of him—he still couldn't believe it. And the fact that she had let him in, had given him the opportunity to prove his sincerity, felt like a second chance he didn't think he would ever get.
He smiled again, leaning back in his chair. For the first time in weeks, Hann felt at peace—like his life had finally found its direction again.
But, of course, there were meetings to attend and work to be done, even if his mind kept drifting back to Joyce. And though his heart was filled with joy, he couldn't quite shake the feeling that this was just the beginning of something bigger. Something better.
***
The next day, Joyce sat at their usual corner table in the bustling cafe, the lunchtime chatter swirling around her. Her food lay untouched as she got lost in thought, her mind replaying the events from the day before—Hann’s quiet promise and the lingering questions that had settled in her heart long after they had parted from that meeting.
When Kaylee arrived, her presence was like a breath of fresh air. Her warm smile instantly soothed Joyce’s restless spirit. Kaylee gave her a tight, comforting hug before sitting across from her, her eyes filled with understanding.
"You’ve got that 'I've been overthinking' look on your face," Kaylee teased gently.
Joyce let out a soft laugh, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "So obvious huh?"
Kaylee nodded, her tone light but caring. "Alright, start from the top. So, what's going on?"
As the afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a warm glow over their table, Joyce gripped her cup of tea, letting its heat seep into her palms. The knot in her stomach tightened despite the familiar comfort of Kaylee's company. She hadn’t seen her friend in what felt like ages, yet now that they were face to face, the weight of her thoughts only seemed to grow heavier.
Taking a deep breath, Joyce finally spoke, her voice low and hesitant. "I never thought I’d be sitting here, telling you this... but things have changed between Mr. Hann and me. He asked for another chance."
Kaylee blinked, surprised, but she remained silent, letting Joyce continue. She knew how shattered Joyce had been just two weeks ago before she left for the healing retreat. This sudden shift was a lot to take in.
"He says he wants to prove his sincerity," Joyce went on, her gaze dropping to the table as her fingers traced the rim of her cup. "And I was... glad when he said it. But," she hesitated, her throat tightening, "I’m scared, Kaylee. I’m so scared of getting hurt again."
The vulnerability in her words hung in the air between them, and for a moment, Joyce feared she had exposed too much. She hadn’t said this out loud to anyone—not even to herself.
Kaylee’s hand reached across the table, resting gently on Joyce’s. Her touch was warm, but it was her steady gaze that gave Joyce the strength to continue. "I can understand why you'd feel that way," Kaylee said softly, her voice filled with empathy. "When someone you care about hurts you, even unintentionally, it leaves a mark. It’s natural to be cautious."
Joyce swallowed hard, her emotions swirling closer to the surface. "Yea," she whispered. "It’s like... I want to trust him, but what if things don't work out for us like I've hoped it to be?"
Kaylee gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. She took a deep breath before speaking again, her words slow and thoughtful. "Love always involves risk, Joyce. But it also involves faith—faith in God, and faith in the people He places in our lives. The question isn’t whether Hann will ever make a mistake again. He’s human, and we all do. The real question is whether you can trust God to guide you through this. That’s where your peace will come from—not from Hann’s promises, but from God's."
Joyce felt the tear slide down her cheek before she could stop it. She quickly brushed it away, embarrassed by the sudden surge of emotion. "I’ve been praying," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’ve been asking God for clarity, but I don’t know if I’m hearing Him. What if I can’t figure out the right answer?"
Kaylee smiled gently, her eyes soft with understanding. "Sometimes it’s not about having all the answers right away. Sometimes it’s about taking one step at a time, trusting that God will make things clearer as you move forward. It’s okay to take your time. You don't have to rush anything, Joyce. But don’t let fear keep you from taking that next step. Let God lead you, and in His time, He’ll show you the way."
The words settled deep in Joyce's heart, like a balm soothing a long-standing ache. She hadn't realized just how much she needed to hear that until now. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with gratitude. "I needed that reminder."
The two friends sat in silence for a moment, the hum of the cafe grounding them as they both absorbed the quiet significance of their conversation. For the first time since Hann had reached out to her, Joyce felt like she could finally breathe. The fear was still there, but it felt more manageable now, less like a suffocating weight and more like something she could give to God.
Eventually, Joyce shifted, the conversation drifting toward a lighter note. "By the way, while I was away, I saw some news... The Langford Conference Center launch. You and President Victor...?" Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, a teasing smile tugging at her lips.
Kaylee's face softened into a shy smile, her fingers absentmindedly brushing some hair behind her ear. "Yes," she admitted, a hint of blush coloring her cheeks. "We're... together."
Joyce's eyes lit up with excitement, and her smile broke into a full grin. "Kaylee! That's amazing! I'm so happy for you." Her laughter bubbled up, genuine and full of warmth. "I mean, it's President Victor Langford! I knew something was going on between you two after that VR accident during the charity auction. You two make such a beautiful couple."
Kaylee's eyes sparkled with happiness as she chuckled softly, clearly touched by Joyce's excitement. "Thank you. It's been a journey, for sure. But I'm so grateful for him. He... he's really everything I didn't even know I needed."
Joyce’s heart swelled with joy for her friend, seeing the quiet joy that radiated from Kaylee. "You deserve this happiness, Kaylee. Truly."
After a pause, Joyce shifted, her tone becoming more thoughtful. "Actually, I met someone else while I was in Geoje. Victoria, do you know her?"
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