Chapter 281
Freya set down her pen, a determined glint in her eye as she said, “Mr. Tyler, you’re wrong if you think you can talk me out of this. I won’t give up. If you can’t teach me, I’ll learn by myself.”
With that, she made to leave.
Preston called out from behind, “Is a diploma really that important to you?”
“Yes,” Freya replied earnestly, turning to face Preston. “It might not mean much to you, Mr. Tyler, but to me, it’s crucial. I have to pass this
test.”
Seeing the resolve in Freya’s eyes, Preston had no choice but to say, “Sit down. I’ll teach you.”
Freya was stunned. “But… didn’t you say I have no coordination?”
“It’s only a three–day test. I might not make your handwriting better than your right hand’s, but you can write.” Preston lightly tapped the
uch beside him, signaling Freya to sit.
Reluctantly, Freya took a seat opposite him.
Soon, Preston said, “I meant to sit by my side.”
Hesitant, Freya awkwardly moved to sit beside Preston.
Preston grabbed a pen from the table and smoothly wrote a word with his right hand, then replicated the action with his left. The words looked nearly identical.
Freya was stunned. “How did you do that?”
“It’s not that hard. Anyone can do it. It all comes down to focus and coordination.” He handed the pen to Freya and advised, “Calm your mind, focus on your left hand, pay attention to the pressure, and practice writing. In a day, you should be able to write simple words decently. In a week, you should get used to using your left hand. Speed might be an issue, but practice never hurts.”
“Just practice?”
Preston added, “The first step to learn anything is always practice. There’s no easy way, but you have nine days. It’s the simplest and best method for you.”
Freya couldn’t help but feel Preston was underestimating her, but she followed his instructions.
Time ticked by. Outside, Neil struggled to stay awake, eventually knocking on the door to say, “You two done yet?”
Freya had been so focused on her writing that she hadn’t noticed the passage of time. When she looked up, she realized it had gotten dark outside.
At some point, Preston had turned on a desk lamp, bathing the table in a warm glow that she hadn’t even noticed.
The paper before her was covered in densely packed handwriting.
Preston said, “Let’s break for dinner.”
“I don’t eat dinner.”
The words were out before Freya remembered Kieran’s offer of a million for each dinner she ate. Reluctantly, she put down the pen, muttering, “I’ll just have a bit.”
As Freya left the room, Preston picked up the sheets of paper filled with Freya’s left–handed writing. In less than four hours, she had managed to write smoothly with her left hand. A small smile played on Preston’s lips.
This woman was more perceptive than he had thought. But she didn’t realize her brilliance.
