Jimmy and I sit across from each other at the restaurant, menus in hand. We order quickly, and the waiter leaves us alone. The night air is cold but refreshing in the outdoor seating, brushing against my skin. A small shiver runs down my spine.
Jimmy notices instantly. His brows knit. "Why didn't you wear proper clothes?"
I glance down at myself, then back at him with a smirk. "What's wrong with them? They're perfect."
His eyes narrow. "That shirt is thin. I can practically see through it."
A laugh slips out of me. "It's called fashion. Don't you get it? I like wearing this. Makes it easy to seduce a man in this style."
His face hardens, anger flickering in his eyes.
I quickly raise my hands, still laughing. "Hey, relax. I'm just kidding."
Before he can answer, his phone rings. He pulls it out, frowns at the screen, then mutters, "Wait a minute," and walks away to take the call.
Left alone, I glance around. The clinking of glasses, the hum of voices, the soft music—yet I feel restless. Bored. My chest tightens with the thought: I shouldn't have agreed to live with Jimmy again. It feels like a cage, like my freedom is slipping.
I sigh and scroll through my phone, but then a shadow falls over the table. I look up. A man stands there, expensive suit, smooth smile, eyes fixed on me.
"Hello," he says warmly. "I've never seen beauty like you before."
I tilt my head, studying him. "Really? Are you trying to hit on me?"
He leans closer, his cologne strong and refined. His voice drops into a whisper. "Maybe." He slides a card across the table, his fingers brushing the surface. "Let's meet somewhere… alone."
A sharp smile curves my lips. Normal. Too normal. Billionaires, men with power, they've always been easy prey. And now, when I'm bored, one falls right into my lap.
"Sure," I answer softly, slipping the card into my pocket. He smirks and straightens, walking away without looking back.
I don't realize Jimmy is watching until his shadow falls over me again. His voice cuts in, low and tight. "Who was that? Do you know him?"
I reply flatly, "No. He was just trying to hit on me."
Jimmy takes a deep breath, shoulders stiff like he's holding something back. Then, without a word, he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over my shoulders.
I protest. "I don't need it."
His tone sharpens. "Wear it."
Something in his eyes makes me obey. I slip it on quickly, the warmth still carrying his scent. But my mood is already ruined. He never used to react like this. Not back then.
The waiter arrives with our dinner, but the taste is gone before I take the first bite. My fresh, playful mood has already soured.
I stare down at the food, appetite gone. It's annoying, being controlled like this. My eyes lift to him, and he's already staring at me.
"What?" I ask flatly.
"Why aren't you eating?" he says.
"I am." I shove a bite into my mouth, chewing with a frustrated face.
He suddenly laughs.
I blink at him, confused. "What happened?"
"Nothing. Let's just eat."
I narrow my eyes but take another bite, still angry.
After dinner, we walk along the street. The lights glow around us, bright against the dark sky. I still smell like him because I'm wearing his jacket. His scent lingers, warm, too close.
I slip it off and hand it back. "Wear it. You must be cold."
"Nope," he says calmly. "I'm okay. You keep it."
"I'm not cold."
He looks at my shirt, his voice sharper now. "You say that, but your body tells the truth. This shirt shows everything. Wear it."
Before I can argue, he forcefully drapes the jacket over me again. I sigh, giving up, and keep walking.
Then his hand slips into mine, firm, unyielding. I glance at him in surprise, but he just says, "Let's get some ice cream."
My mood is ruined, but ice cream… ice cream is my weakness.
He buys me strawberry flavor. I look at him, softening despite myself. "You remember I like strawberry?"
"Of course," he answers. "How could I forget? You always eat strawberries and never get bored."
I take a bite, the sweetness melting on my tongue. "Ahh… it's really good."
Jimmy smiles at me, like he already knows. Like he always knows how to fix my mood, no matter how much I fight him.
The ice cream is sweet and slowly washes away my frustration. I smile, letting the weather cool my skin. Moments like this are rare, and I try to savor them. Because nothing lasts forever.
Back home, I take a quick shower and change into fresh clothes. Jimmy sits at his study desk, tapping on his laptop. I settle on the bed, scrolling through my phone. A quiet routine, almost peaceful—until his eyes shift.
He notices the card on the bedside table. The one from the man at the restaurant.
He picks it up. "What's this?"
I glance at him, then lazily reach over and take it back. "Not necessary."
His voice sharpens. "You don't want to tell me? Or is it—"
"Yes," I cut in, annoyed. "You're right. That man who hit on me gave it."
Jimmy exhales heavily. "So… are you going to meet him?"
I finally look up, meeting his gaze. "Jimmy, why so many questions? You never did this before. But now? Why? I'm not a child. I can do whatever I want."
Before I can slip the card back onto the table, he snatches it from my hand and tears it in half. The pieces fall to the floor like sharp little insults.
"Work in my clinic," he snaps. "I'll give you the best salary, bonuses—whatever you want. Just shut this off. I don't like it. Don't you have some shame? Some dignity?"
I freeze, staring at him, speechless. His words strike deeper than I expect. My chest burns with something raw—anger, shame, confusion.
Without a word, I stand. I grab my jacket, pull it over my shoulders, and head for the door.
I need air. I need peace. I need to calm this storm inside me before I explode.