WebNovels

Chapter 4 - Episode 4: Derailed Routine

"Camila! It's almost the end of the day!" Flora said like it was Christmas Eve. She was halfway out the door, lip gloss shining and heels clicking like she had somewhere fancy to be—or at least a fun brunch coming up.

"So, what are your weekend plans?" she asked, pretending to care, even though she already knew the answer. I smiled. This was her usual Friday game: ask about my weekend just so she could laugh when I say I have none. She doesn't mean it badly — it's just how she teases.

"Let me guess," she said before I could even open my mouth, "You, your laptop, and some leftover Thai food?"

Honestly? She's not wrong. I'm usually a "stay-home-alone" type of girl. Not because I'm sad, just... that's how life is. Weekends are when I catch my breath from all the office chaos—even if that still means doing more work. The only difference is I'm in pajamas instead of office clothes.

But this weekend? This weekend might just be something special.

This weekend feels different. Like maybe the universe penciled in something unexpected for me. Something… worth staying awake for.

Trying not to smile too wide, I said, "Actually... I have plans."

Flora stopped in her tracks, mouth slightly open like I'd just told her I was running off to marry a movie star. She walked out the door in shock—probably thinking I was joking just to mess with her routine.

I tried to stay cool, but inside? I was dancing. Harry. We're meeting up tonight, and honestly, I've been buzzing since we made the plan.

It's been a long time—too long—since I felt this kind of spark about someone. The last time, it ended with seven little words that still sting: "Camila, you're always too busy for us. Let's just end it."

Ouch. I still remember how much it hurt. I spent two days watching sad movies and eating way too much chocolate, enough to make Willy Wonka proud. No regrets though—well, maybe just a few cavities' worth.. 

Because the truth is—he wasn't wrong. I was too busy. Always rushing, always working, treating love like it was just another box on my endless checklist. And surprise, surprise—it collapsed under the weight of my own "productivity."

So now, standing here with these new feelings bubbling up, I'm torn—half terrified of repeating history, half giddy at the thought that maybe, just maybe, this time could be different.

But this time feels different. He feels different. Harry—though we literally just met this morning. Technically, I was 30 minutes late (story of my life), but maybe fate doesn't care about punctuality. Maybe it actually likes to show up fashionably late.

I've been the reigning queen of quiet weekends for a while now, crown and all. Pajamas, takeout, the usual. But this Friday? This Friday might just be a plot twist. Maybe I'll trade my carton of Thai noodles for a box full of butterflies.

And honestly? I think I'm ready. Nervous, yes. But ready.

Ready for what, though? That's the question. A coffee date? A disaster? Or maybe one of those blink-and-you'll-miss-it moments that somehow change everything.

Harry didn't seem like the kind of guy you bump into by accident—more like the kind fate plants in your path when it's tired of watching you binge-watch life from the sidelines. He was easy to talk to, the kind of easy that makes you forget you're technically strangers. And when he laughed? Let's just say I noticed.

So yeah… maybe this Friday isn't about my usual quiet kingdom of noodles and Netflix. Maybe it's about something riskier. Something louder. Something that comes with butterflies I didn't order—but I'm not sending back.

...

Just a few minutes later, Pam called with what she called a "surprise gift" — a man. Yes, a full-grown, living, breathing man... handpicked to accompany me for the weekend at her cozy little getaway with her fiancé. Classic Pam. She's made it her life's mission to drag me along on these couples' retreats because, in her words, "you'd go an entire year without a proper weekend unless you're admitted to a hospital."

"No, Pam, you won't do that," I said, attempting to draw a boundary — though a shaky one — by claiming I had a date that evening. I even promised to donate all of Saturday to her cause. Did she believe me? Doubtful. Because within seconds, her fiancé jumped on the call like it was a family intervention.

Next thing I know, they're selling me this mystery man like a used car: smart, chill, well-dressed, and apparently the perfect guy to "light up my weekend." I had one simple question:

"So, what happens to my date this evening?"

Pam? Unbothered. "Move it to tomorrow. Period. See you tonight."

Can we pause and talk about how a grown man agreed to this Friday-night-blind-date arrangement with a woman he's never met? Either he's reckless... or hopelessly bored. But Pam has a way of bending people's wills like pipe cleaners.

Now I'm at a crossroads. I already postponed on Harry this morning — and here I am again, with a convenient excuse to break my word.

My integrity? Hanging by a thread.

Come to think of it—wouldn't it practically scream desperate if I actually went through with my promise to Harry tonight? What would that say? That I've been perched by the phone all day, twirling my hair like a lovesick schoolgirl, just waiting for his call? Absolutely not.

No, Camila. You are a lady. A composed, calendar-respecting, non-jumpy lady. Graceful, even when your heart is sprinting. Tonight may tempt you, but tomorrow—ah, tomorrow is perfection. An entire day stretched out before us, carved just for two. From one sweet date to the next, uninterrupted, unhurried. Yes… Tomorrow isn't just better. Tomorrow is ours.

Okay, maybe I'm being a little selfish. A little delusional too—imagining he's my man already. "Camila, you're ridiculous". I smiled at my thoughts, mildly amused at myself.

"Hi Harry, it's Camila..."

Who knew a five-minute call could feel like an entire saga? My heart was doing cartwheels just hearing his voice, while my mouth was busy layering on the perfect cocktail of excuses. Smooth, subtle, almost believable.

And Harry? Not a flinch. Not even a sigh."It's fine by me," he said, steady and warm. "Anytime, any day that works for you. Just… don't stand me up."

No guilt trips. No passive-aggressive sighs. No twenty questions. Just pure, effortless gentleman.

Oh Harry, take a bow—you've already stolen half my heart. The other half? Honestly, it's negotiating terms.

With that sorted, you'd think I'd be at peace—but no, there's tonight's blind date, thanks to Pamela's matchmaking fever. My stomach's in knots. What if he's boring? What if he's a dream? What if he has spinach in his teeth? Don't judge me—I haven't been on a real date in forever. But one thing I know for sure: Harry could outshine this mystery man with just a smile.

...

Just a few hours left before I clock out, and my desk still looks like it got hit by a paperwork hurricane. Files to sort, clients waiting on feedback, and memos screaming for attention before Monday rolls in.

Flora couldn't hide her confusion—her brows practically furrowed into a question mark. "Wait, hold up... you're going on a date? Like... a real one? Today? With an actual human being?" She glanced at the mountain of work on my desk like it was Exhibit A in a courtroom. "You've got a pile of deadlines staring you down—you can see them too, right?"

Honestly, her interrogation was heading toward a full-blown Netflix mini-series if I didn't cut it short. So, I weaponized my inner boss-lady and said sweetly, "Flora, could you please run through the draft I sent you? The manager will be back from his meeting any minute now." Then I added a cherry on top: "And please send a memo to the interns—quick note about our brief meeting next Thursday."

She gave me the ugh-fine sigh and finally sauntered off, heels clicking with reluctant acceptance.

I could bet my last coffee pod she never saw this coming. Me? On a date? In this lifetime? Flora probably assumed I had signed a silent vow to marry my office chair. Two years without even a 'maybe' and suddenly—boom—I'm the talk of the desk. If this is a dream, then let her stay shook, because I'm not waking her up anytime soon.

Still—no matter how this Friday ends, one thing is certain: I'm determined to squeeze every last drop of joy from this weekend. I owe myself that much.

Because miracles don't just happen- they dress up and go out...

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