Hannah suddenly straightened, gripping Emma’s arm tightly.
“Yes! Yes, of course you can date Harold!” she almost cried out, her voice rising with excitement.
The enthusiasm in her tone was almost absurd. At that moment, it looked as though she would willingly offer everything she owned—her money, her house, even her soul—if it meant convincing Emma to date her son.
She suddenly clasped her hands together in front of her chest, closing her eyes tightly.
Emma watched in stunned silence as Hannah began murmuring something under her breath.
Emma could only catch one word clearly—
“God…”
It sounded like she was offering a heartfelt prayer of gratitude.
A second later, Hannah opened her eyes again and grabbed Emma’s hand enthusiastically.
“Come! Let’s go. I’ll introduce you to him!” she said in a rushed, rambling voice. “Do you know—I mean—never mind, it doesn’t matter!”
Emma barely had time to react before Hannah was already pulling her across the restaurant toward Harold’s table.
But just as they were approaching—
The woman sitting across from Harold suddenly shoved her chair backward with a loud scrape.
The harsh noise drew several curious glances from nearby diners.
The woman stood up abruptly, her face flushed with anger.
She snatched the paper straw Harold had been absentmindedly twisting between his fingers and ripped it apart violently.
The straw crumbled instantly, the torn paper pieces scattering across the table as she tossed them down in frustration.
Harold didn’t react.
He remained seated exactly where he was, leaning back slightly in his chair with an indifferent, almost arrogant expression on his face.
One elbow rested casually on the armrest while his fingers tapped lazily against the table.
It was as if the woman’s anger had nothing to do with him at all.
The girl grew even angrier at his indifference.
“Harold Graves!” she snapped sharply. “If you didn’t want to date, you shouldn’t have come on this blind date!”
Her voice echoed sharply through the quiet elegance of the restaurant.
Still—
Harold didn’t argue. Didn’t apologize. Didn’t even bother looking guilty.
Instead, he remained seated with a stubborn, almost pleased expression, as though this exact outcome had been what he had been waiting for all along.
The woman glared at him for another furious second before grabbing her purse off the table.
“Unbelievable,” she muttered.
Then she spun on her heel and stormed out of the restaurant through the opposite door, her heels striking the floor sharply with each angry step.
