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=Chapter Four=

Jessicha

To my utter surprise, I bumped into my best friend as I opened the door, and I couldn't even feel embarrassed about the contrast between how we looked.

Although, honestly, I was more embarrassed about the reason I came out looking like this, rather than the fact that I did. He was wearing a silky black long-sleeved shirt and jeans. He looked more mature now, compared to when I last saw him two years ago.

He didn't seem as fazed as I did because he flashed me his boyish smile as he did multiple times before, and I consequently smiled as well. He quickly followed me back in as I entered, instead of going out like it seemed he was supposed to do.

"Been a while," he chuckled.

"I know," I quipped. "You haven't been very present on social media, I thought you were very busy."

He shook his head at my jab and quickly spoke up. "I need your help."

I wanted to roll my eyes. Kaden needed my help, too. What's with these guys?

"Is Saul home?" I asked, placing my bag on the desk. Yes, I know I came from the office, but I was working all day with the periodical burst of tears and got messy. I even forgot my jacket in the office.

"No," he smirked, "No need to panic." It's annoying how well he thinks he knows me to the point that his ego gets inflated. It's not that much of an achievement. "This," he said, plopping a large cup of coffee on the marble counter, "is from your hubby."

"What's that?"

"Vanilla latte. What else?" he let out a snort. "That's all you drink besides water and the rare glass of wine or champagne anyway."

Was that statement of scorn? All HE drinks is fruit juice, besides water.

Today was extremely tiring because I didn't know whether to be happy or indignant that Saul offered the extra tickets to me. I'm sure he's just inviting me as my husband and tried to make me feel better by saying what he said, but as hard as it was to believe for me, it wasn't usually something to lie about for Saul, or at least he wouldn't lie about it so nonchalantly.

I took the vanilla latte and tried to imagine Saul calling him to buy this for me and smiled.

"Disgusting. Wipe that smile off your face."

I shot Samuel a glare and took a sip. It was still hot.

"Okay, so what do you need help on?" I asked him, after turning on and settling on my heat-emitting couch in the living room. He took the cushiony stool by my feet and looked up at me with a grin. Oh no.

"I need an assistant."

Samuel, or Suel as I got used to calling him, was a photographer who has been renowned for the wide scope of his works--from journalism to fashion to science, sports, and entertainment, he was one of the photographers around, but that also meant that being his assistant is going to be exhausting. I did it before, when Saul and I weren't married yet, and he didn't go easy on me at all. Saul found out and was so furious, he did his best not to let Samuel near me for a whole week.

"I can't do that, Suel," I frowned. "Firstly, Saul won't like it. And secondly, I agree that even though I love helping you, it really exhausts me, and I have a lot of things to prepare for. I'm sorry."

He pouted. "But you're my best assistant ever," he said, making me laugh. "I'll be more careful," he coaxed, but I was really tight on time, so I had to turn him down still.

"Do you know anyone who can help me?" he asked, obviously now gloomy.

I shrugged. "Don't you work in a studio? Aren't there people there reliable enough for you?"