“What do you need, Mr. Evans?” Paulina asked cautiously.

Cole took a breath and explained everything, right up to his humiliating conclusion. He then asked, “So, do either of you have any advice?”

So that was it. Paulina and Myles could barely suppress their laughter. They had worked by his side for years and never once seen him this flustered. Only Elliana could reduce someone like Cole to this state.

“Are you two dying to laugh?” Cole snapped.

Paulina cleared her throat fast. “Of course not! Your dedication to rebuilding your marriage is inspiring. Truly inspiring.”

“Yes, very inspiring!” Myles echoed instantly.

Cole glared. He wasn’t buying any of it. “Enough nonsense. Just give me real advice.”

Myles scratched the back of his head. He had never dated anyone—women didn’t even look at him twice. Advice? He had none.

Paulina was equally stumped. Although she was older than Cole, she hadn’t dated much either. She had no idea how to handle a romantic crisis either.

Still, Cole was looking at Myles and Paulina with hope in his eyes, and neither wanted to disappoint him.

After a moment of thought, Paulina said, “Maybe we should read your first draft. If we see what you wrote, we might understand what’s missing.”

Cole hesitated. Letting others read something that personal made his skin crawl. But he swallowed his discomfort and handed over the pages—he was desperate.

Paulina began reading, and Myles leaned in beside her. The document was long—over ten thousand words—and even skimming took time.

By the end, both Paulina and Myles were holding back laughter so hard that it hurt. They were accustomed to reading Cole’s formal business briefs—they’d never seen him write a love letter before. Today was truly an eye-opener.

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Cole’s expression darkened as he watched their twitching mouths. If there had been a shovel nearby, he would have buried them both behind the house.

Sensing Cole was on the verge of losing his temper, Paulina quickly straightened up. “I think I understand the problem. Your writing is too refined. It feels more like you’re showcasing your writing talent than expressing sincerity.”

“Yes, exactly!” Myles added quickly. “I’ve seen lots of online love letters—they’re simple and a bit cheesy. Girls seem to like that more.”

Cole blinked, stunned. Were his writing skills really the issue? He wasn’t trying to brag—this was simply the way he wrote. But cheesy and simple? That wasn’t his style. He couldn’t come up with cringey lines, even if he forced himself. But what counted as “cheesy” anyway?

Cole turned to Myles. “Show me examples. I need references.”

Myles had an entire stash of cheesy love letters saved on his phone. He immediately forwarded them to Cole.

Cole tackled the pile of cheesy love letters from Myles with the focus of someone decoding ancient scripts, taking in every absurd line one at a time.

“Is there something wrong with my eyes, or do you really light up the whole world? You’re so bright that I can barely keep looking, but I still can’t look away.”

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