Dora quickly assured she could handle it and pushed open the door and entered the room across from Lizetta's.
Lizetta settled back into her chair, her gaze drifting over the array of vitamins, pastries, and snacks piled on the table. She looked at Jerome and said, "These count as your second gift to me. I still haven't found a way to return the favor for that bouquet you gave me last time. I'm really sorry about that."
She was reminded of the bouquet that got ruined by Remington right in front of Jerome, which made her feel somewhat guilty.
Jerome, however, spoke up, "Last time wasn't the first."
"Huh?" Lizetta was surprised.
Jerome arched an eyebrow, "The first thing I ever gave you was a tube of anti-inflammatory ointment. I wonder if you remember?"
That year, Jerome had personally visited the dance academy to scout for talent.
As his car entered the academy, the driver, not at his best, nearly hit a child who darted out unexpectedly.
At the critical moment, a slender figure rushed forward to pull the child to safety.
When Jerome got out of the car, he saw the girl and the child had both fallen to the ground.
The child was unharmed and quickly ran off, but the girl had twisted her ankle. Jerome wanted to take her to the infirmary, but she hastily waved him off and limped away.
Unexpectedly, he soon saw her again on the stage of the dance audition.
Despite her injury, she danced with more passion and grace than anyone else.
Later, he had the driver buy some ointment, intending to personally deliver it to her, especially since he had already decided to recruit her.
But he worried that personally delivering it might make her subject to misunderstandings among her peers, suggesting she had gotten the position through personal connections rather than talent. So, he handed the ointment to a passing student, asking them to give it to her.
Now, looking at Lizetta, Jerome felt a twinge of regret.
If he had personally delivered the cream back then, maybe they could have gotten acquainted sooner.
"The ointment." Lizetta faintly remembered.
She looked at Jerome in surprise, "Ah! So it was your car that almost hit someone that day!"
Although their first encounter hadn't left a deep impression on her, she hadn't recognized him until now, which showed she didn't remember much about him.
But she did remember, and Jerome found this somewhat comforting. He smiled softly and nodded.
"The way you danced that day despite being injured, showed me how much you love dance and that you have a strong character. I admire you."
He said he admired her, but there was a hint of warmth in his eyes.
Lizetta's eyelashes fluttered, and she tensed slightly, avoiding his gaze as she stood up, "I should go check on how Dora is getting on."
She moved quickly, leaving Jerome sitting there, his gaze following her hasty retreat with a slight smile playing on his lips.
He didn't press further but stood up, put on his gloves, and left the villa.
Approaching the flower stand, he retrieved an unused flowerpot from underneath, transferring the shattered flowers into the new pot before carrying two pots back inside.
Just a wall away, Remington's imposing figure was nearly buried in the thick snow, standing like a snowman.
Watching Jerome move in and out as if he owned the place stirred something in Remington. Suddenly, he clenched his fist and punched a nearby tree, causing snow to cascade down upon him. The snow penetrated through his collar, chilling him to the bone and deepening his sense of loss.
But he couldn't move, realizing for the first time that love could make one feel cowardly when faced with the familiar.
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