Phoebe's POV
Harold's voice carried such sincerity—even a touch of humility—that I couldn't bring myself to refuse him. After a brief pause, I gave him a nod. "I'll do what I can."
"Thank you," Harold said, relief washing over his features. He offered me a small, respectful nod in return.
When dinner ended, Harold suggested driving me home, but I declined with a shake of my head. "I have other plans. I'm not heading home just yet. We should part ways here."
Harold hesitated beside his car. "Finding a taxi around here this late won't be easy. If you're okay with it, I can still offer you a ride."
I glanced around and realized he had a point. This upscale area catered to people who either drove themselves or employed drivers. Taxis were scarce, and the few I spotted were already occupied. "Alright, I appreciate it," I said, walking alongside him to the vehicle.
