Chapter 384
Chapter 384:
Fernanda smiled faintly.
“Oh, and there’s a doctoral student!” Sloane exclaimed again. “She’s from the City College of Esaham. That’s quite impressive.”
Fernanda was about to speak when Sloane read a name aloud. “Jordyn Becker. It says she studied abroad for her master’s, and now she’s back for her doctorate. She’s only twenty-five. That’s incredible.”
Fernanda’s hand stopped.
“Let me see,” she said, taking the phone from Sloane.
She immediately saw the photo in the center of the screen: a young woman with a bright, radiant smile. Below was her name: Jordyn Becker.
Fernanda couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the same close female friend of Cristian’s.
In the days that followed, Fernanda’s mind often circled back to the name Jordyn Becker. She didn’t deliberately dwell on it, but the name surfaced unexpectedly, lingering stubbornly, as though etched into her thoughts.
To fend off the distraction, Fernanda immersed herself in her studies with relentless determination, leaving no moment unoccupied. Each dive into her books drained her energy, leaving no space for wandering thoughts.
Before long, midterm exams arrived, and Fernanda felt a quiet confidence about her performance.
On Friday evening, Wendy invited Fernanda to visit her new workplace—a bar—for a casual drink.
The bar, nestled in a bustling district, exuded a serene, artistic vibe that set it apart. On stage, a young woman, likely no older than twenty, sang mellow, soulful tunes, seamlessly complementing the bar’s tranquil atmosphere.
Seated on a high stool, Fernanda swirled her drink and remarked to Wendy, “The atmosphere here is far better than the places you used to work.”
Wendy grinned. “I agree. Plus, everyone here is a college student working part-time. Even the owners are students, so we all get along pretty well.”
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As Wendy mixed a drink for a patron, a young man leaned in and whispered something to her.
Fernanda caught the subtle frown on Wendy’s face and asked, “What’s going on?”
“The girl singing on stage isn’t feeling well. Her voice is off, and a few patrons are complaining.”
Fernanda noticed the music had stopped. Turning, she saw the singer standing offstage, her shoulders quivering as though she were sobbing.
She understood how essential a performer was to the ambiance of a quiet bar like this. Unlike the natural liveliness of a nightclub, the silence here could quickly feel oppressive without music.
Facing the singer stood a young man and a patron, likely in his forties. The middle-aged man’s face was flushed, his voice erupting like thunder, whether from the effects of too much alcohol or a deeper frustration.
“That singing was unbearable!”
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