Chapter: 1848

"Okay." Alberto nodded, observing her carefully, as if to reassure her about the errors. "These formulas are complex, and the logic can be challenging. It's normal to make mistakes. You've been making significant progress in data analysis."

Rachel was taken aback by his praise.

Since they had met, he had always maintained a cold demeanor, cordial but distant with everyone. This acknowledgment from him was unexpected.

“Thank you, Mr. Gibson," Rachel acknowledged, her eyes briefly resting on his knees. She seemed to resolve something internally.

Setting the tablet aside on the sofa, she rose and ascended the stairs.

Alberto's gaze lingered on Rachel as she departed without a backward glance. A shadow of unspoken melancholy clouded his eyes.

He remained in the living room for a while, hoping perhaps for Rachel's return, but she didn't reappear.

With a slight narrowing of his eyes, he closed the documents, a sense of resignation settling over him.

What was he expecting, after all?

Their current relationship was strictly professional.

Suppressing the growing feeling of loss, he began to wheel himself towards the door.

“Mr. Gibson, are you heading to bed?" Rachel's voice interrupted his thoughts just as he reached the living room's entrance.

Looking up, Alberto saw her emerging from the stairway's shadows.

The room was bathed in a soft, subdued light, with the full brightness of the lamps not utilized. This created a slightly dim ambiance. Rachel emerged from the stairway's corner, stepping into the muted yellow glow. The gentle lighting cast a subtle halo around her, lending her an ethereal appearance. For a brief moment, as he watched her, Alberto found himself lost in a quiet trance.

Instinctively, his hand reached out towards her.

“Mr. Gibson?" Rachel's voice, tinged with confusion, broke through his reverie, noticing his outstretched hand.

"Uh... No." He quickly regained his composure, retracting his hand as though nothing unusual had occurred. "I have some documents to work on."

"Alright." Rachel's gaze fell on the documents in his hand. "Do you need this done now?"

"Why do you ask?"

“Nothing really, but I wanted to discuss something with you. If you're busy, your work takes precedence."

Alberto's eyes briefly caught sight of a bottle of essential oil in Rachel's hand.

It was the same oil she had used a few days ago for his massage.

"I'm not in a hurry," Alberto replied, his voice softening.

"Could you wait for me in the living room, Mr. Gibson?"