Delivering Happiness: The Joys of Being a Delivery Driver

Time passed, another half an hour gone by, yet the adulterous couple failed to emerge.

I grew impatient, pacing back and forth in the corridor, tempted to check room by room, but it felt inappropriate.

Just then, my phone rang, a landline number. The voice on the other end identified as the security guard from our residential compound.

Curious, I inquired about the matter. He mentioned hearing my child crying during his patrol, asking if my wife and I were not at home.

It struck me that our son was still at home, nearly time for him to go to school.

Damn it! I had been so consumed by the affair of that wretched couple that I forgot our son was home alone.

I promptly informed the guard I would be back soon, asking him to reassure my son.

No more waiting; I knew the infidelity had occurred. All that was left was evidence.

Putting my son's well-being first, I hastily left the hotel, mounted my electric bike, and raced home.

Our neighborhood wasn't prestigious, but the security guard was reliable. Upon my return, the guard was consoling my son at the door.

Relieved to see me, the guard exclaimed, "You finally came back!"

I thanked him profusely, explaining the morning rush and how my son was still asleep when I left. Little did I expect him to wake up so soon.

The guard scolded, "You should never leave a child alone at home. Go in and check on him!"

"Yes, yes, thank you, big brother!"

After seeing off the guard, I hurriedly unlocked the door, finding my son in his pajamas, standing at the entrance.

Upon seeing me, he burst into tears, "Daddy, I thought you didn't want me anymore, sniffles."

I scooped him up, comforting, "I'm sorry, little Pengpeng. Daddy didn't mean it. Can you forgive Daddy?"

"Where's Mom?" He was closer to his mother, usually asking for her when he saw me.

But the thought of my wife in that hotel, entangled with that older man, fueled my anger. I sternly declared, "Your mom is dead!"

"Huh?" My son looked at me, bewildered, not understanding the concept of death.

Unable to explain, I offered a few comforting words and rushed to get him ready for school.

After a chaotic morning, I finally started delivering meals at ten o'clock.

Deciding to wait near the hotel for more orders and perhaps confront my wife, I unexpectedly received a request for delivery. The destination? The hotel's address, specifically an office on the 20th floor.

After fetching the coffee, I arrived at the hotel and headed to the 20th floor. As I reached out to press the button, I noticed it was already illuminated.

Before I could retract my hand, a voice behind me exclaimed, "Mr. Chen, didn't expect to see you here!"

Turning around, I was surprised.

I recognized him, Hardy, a former colleague from my software department.

He left a lasting impression because of his sycophantic behavior, always vying for my position as the software department manager.

Without saying a word, he scrutinized me, mocking my delivery uniform, "I heard from former colleagues that Mr. Chen ended up delivering meals. I couldn't believe it, thinking a high-profile person like you wouldn't stoop to such a level. But here you are!"

Not interested in wasting words with him, I chuckled, "Delivering meals is not bad."

"Really?" He sneered, "Mr. Chen, do you know what I'm doing now?"

I remained silent, and he continued, "I'm a product manager at Rising Tech. Ever heard of Rising Tech?"

I nodded, coldly remarking, "Congratulations."

"Thank you!" he sighed, feeling nostalgic. "Back then, I was so persistent with you. I wanted that product manager position, but you kept declining. Now the company has collapsed, serves you right!"

Watching him revel in his perceived triumph, I couldn't shake off the discomfort.

Ding!

The elevator reached the 20th floor. Turns out, he was heading here too.

Before I could step out, he stopped me, "Alex Phoenix, I still address you as Mr. Chen out of respect. But let me tell you, in my eyes, you're lower than dirt!"

He forcefully bumped into me, knocking the coffee from my hands. The cup crashed to the floor, spilling its contents.

Ignoring the mess, he walked away.

Enraged, I called out, "Come back here!"

"Why? What do you want?" He halted, turning to glare at me.

"Do you not have eyes when you walk? Pay for my coffee!"

Hardy chuckled, disdain evident. "You blocked my way. They say a good dog doesn't block the path. What breed of dog are you?"

Furious, I seized his expensive clothes, teeth gritted, "Don't play games with me. Pay for my coffee, or you won't leave today. I have time to deal with you."

He stared coldly, "Release your dog claws. This Armani suit of mine, you can't afford it. Just want money, right? Here you go, one hundred dollars enough?" With that, he pulled out a crisp hundred-dollar bill, threw it at my face, and watched it fall, landing in the spilled coffee.

Uncomfortable but unwilling to argue further, I swiftly picked up the money and returned to the elevator.

As the doors closed, Hardy sneered, "A hundred bucks made you bow down. Couldn't have imagined this in the past!"

No time to dwell, the delivery clock was ticking. I rushed to the Starbucks, bought a new coffee identical to the spilled one, and hurried back.

Reaching the 20th floor again, the spilled coffee had been cleaned up.

I ran to the office door noted in the order and heard a woman's angry voice.

Through the partially open door, I spotted Hardy, standing with lowered head while a woman inside scolded him. This woman caught my attention!