My Husband's Affair My Anniversary Gift (Lily and David) novel Chapter 285

In the middle of their quiet conversation, Professor Albert gently guided her toward the inner hallway.

“Come,” he said, smiling to himself. “You’ve come at the perfect time. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Riyana followed him, her steps slow, her mind still heavy with doubt. They stopped in front of his office door. Albert pushed it open.

“John,” he called out casually.

Riyana froze.

John was sitting on the sofa inside, one leg crossed over the other, his phone in his hand. When he looked up and saw her, surprise flickered across his face. He stood up immediately.

“Hi, Riyana,” he said, clearly not expecting to see her there.

Her heart skipped once.

“Hi,” she replied, still trying to process this coincidence.

Albert looked from one face to the other, amused.

“Oh?” he said lightly. “You two know each other?”

“We were classmates,” Riyana said, turning to him as she walked in.

“Good,” Albert nodded, clearly pleased. He walked to the sofa and sat down. “Sit, Ri.”

She sat beside him, while John returned to his seat across from them.

“Then this makes things easier,” Albert said.

“John here is looking for someone skilled in art to work with the lead actor for his upcoming film.” He paused, then looked straight at Riyana. “I’m giving you this job.”

Riyana’s breath caught.

“Professor,” she said quickly, almost panicked, “I don’t think I’m the right choice. You know I haven’t painted properly in years. I haven’t even touched a brush seriously…”

Albert raised a hand gently, stopping her.

“Ri,” he said calmly, “I know you. And I know what you can do.”

She looked at him, unsure.

“I trust you,” he continued. “So don’t overthink it. Just start. That’s all.”

Then he turned to John.

“From now on, she’ll handle everything related to the art side. You two can discuss the details yourselves. Since you’re already friends, I believe you’ll understand each other well.”

John nodded without hesitation.

“Thank you, Professor. Honestly, I’ll feel more comfortable working with Riyana too.”

Riyana sat there, still stunned, her thoughts tangled. Everything was happening too fast.

Albert turned back to her. His expression softened.

“Ri, I have hope in you,” he said quietly, patting her hand. Then he stood up. “I’ll leave you two to talk.”

“I understand, Professor,” she nodded slowly.

She did understand. If Albert believed she could do this, then she could. He had never been wrong about her before. And she would never question his decision.

Before leaving, Albert told her the office next door would be hers whenever she needed it. After that, John began explaining the project.

He talked about the film, about the main lead being an artist, about the kind of paintings needed for different scenes.

He spoke carefully, making sure she understood everything, asking for her thoughts, listening to her opinions.

Slowly, without realizing it, Riyana began to respond. She shared ideas. She suggested styles. She asked questions.

By the time John left the gallery, the sun was already sinking low.

Albert reminded her gently that she didn’t have to come every day.

“Work wherever you’re comfortable,” he said. “This is your pace now.”

Riyana followed his gaze. Her eyes widened a little.

“Of course,” she said without thinking.

It was a small food stall by the roadside. Old, simple, crowded like always. Memories rushed back before she could stop them. Late evenings after long lectures. Friends laughing. Complaining about professors. Sharing food because no one had enough money for their own plate.

“That place was our comfort zone,” John said, smiling to himself. “After every exhausting day.”

Riyana nodded. “We survived university because of that food.”

John laughed softly. Then, almost suddenly, he said,

“Let’s eat something. What do you think?”

She looked at him, surprised. A small hesitation crossed her face. But then she nodded.

“Alright.”

John parked the car on the side. They both got out.

The stall was still the same. The smell of spices filled the air. People stood around, chatting, eating. Just across the street stood a fancy restaurant, all glass and soft lights.

The contrast felt strange, yet familiar.

They ordered their favorite dishes without even discussing it, like habit had never left them. When the plates arrived, they sat down at a small table.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Riyana smiled faintly as she looked at the food.

“I can’t believe this place is still here.”

“Some things don’t change,” John said. “No matter how much we do.”

She didn’t reply right away. She took a bite, the taste pulling her deeper into the past.