The city lights blurred past the windshield, but I barely noticed them. My fingers gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, nails biting into the leather, my mind replaying the words I'd overheard earlier:
"I know you'll abandon her after one year."
The voice was Wang Yuming's, soft but mocking, as if it were designed to cut straight into my chest. My heart thudded painfully. Confusion, anger, betrayal—they all collided violently with the warmth still lingering from last night.
I pressed a hand to my chest, trying to steady the rhythm, but it was hopeless. The memories of Shiyuan—his hands, his lips, his voice—made the words even more unbearable.
Why did I forget it was all a contract?
Did he ever really care for me?
Why did he say earlier that the contract would end when I no longer want revenge or when he no longer wanted me?
Or was it all part of some plan?
I shook my head, gripping the wheel tighter. My internal debate raged: confront him now and risk my pride and composure? Or stay quiet, and let the sting of doubt fester? My fear and embarrassment won. I swallowed hard and decided… not yet.
Meanwhile, Shiyuan was furious—not merely at Wang Yuming, but at the thought that I had misunderstood the encounter.
She's mine. No one talks about her like that… no one.
His chest tightened, a mix of possessiveness and guilt choking him. He hadn't had the chance to explain, and now the possibility that I doubted him drove him nearly mad. Every fiber of him demanded to make me understand that his words, his actions, his possessiveness—they were all real.
I wandered through store after store, absentmindedly touching fabrics, picking out small things I didn't need, all the while replaying that damning sentence. My stomach churned, and I found myself shrinking into the crowd, wishing I could disappear from my own thoughts.
Shiyuan was waiting. At home. His calls went unanswered; my phone lay forgotten in my bag. The thought made his anger simmer into something darker, more dangerous, as he imagined me alone, wandering, and misunderstanding everything.
By the time I returned to the penthouse, my stomach was tight with nerves. I tried to avoid him, slipping silently into the apartment, but I hadn't gone two steps when his sharp gaze caught me.
It was like a physical weight pressing against me, his eyes cutting into mine with a precision that unsettled me. I froze in place, a mixture of fear, shame, and residual longing spiraling through me.
"So… you're really just planning to leave me after a year?" I blurted out, my voice cold, brittle, though my chest thudded painfully.
His posture stiffened, taken aback by the accusation. "Earlier—" he began, measured but sharp, trying to reason with me.
I interrupted quickly, desperate to clarify my own misunderstanding. "I… I'm sorry. I didn't know you and Ms. Wang were… dating last summer."
Shiyuan's eyes softened slightly, though the dangerous edge never left them. "It's just a rumor," he said, voice low, deliberate. His gaze searched mine, trying to measure the truth behind my words, the vulnerability I refused to admit.
I looked away, my throat tight. I didn't want to admit how hurt I was, how betrayed, how confused. The marks on my neck burned slightly as if in agreement with my turmoil, reminding me that last night wasn't just a dream, that his possessiveness had been real… and I had responded.
"Rumor?" I whispered, barely audible, but my tone carried all the uncertainty I felt.
"Yes," he said, steady and calm, though his eyes flared with controlled intensity. "Nothing more."
I swallowed, forcing myself to nod, but the words barely settled in my chest. My walls rose instinctively. I wouldn't allow myself to be vulnerable—not again—not in front of him.
And perhaps, in doing so, I pushed him further away.
He noticed immediately. My distance, my avoidance, the careful coldness in my voice—it was like salt in a wound.
She doesn't trust me. She doubts me. How can she?
Shiyuan's frustration simmered beneath the surface, anger and jealousy mixing with the residual heat from last night. Every glance we exchanged, every subtle brush of fingers or passing near one another, was charged, electrified with unspoken emotions—but overshadowed by misunderstanding.
"You're acting cold," he said finally, voice low, near my ear as we passed each other in the hallway.
I stiffened, not meeting his gaze. "I'm… not."
"Yes, you are," he murmured, a possessive edge creeping into the syllables. "And you'll regret it if you continue like this."
I shook my head, forcing my own composure. "I'm… fine."
"Fine?" he repeated, incredulous, but his tone carried a dangerous undertone. "Do you think I'll let you run from me? After last night?"
My stomach knotted. I wanted to speak, to protest, to explain that I wasn't running—but the words stuck in my throat.
His patience thinned. Shiyuan's decision was made silently, a quiet vow to himself. If I wouldn't listen, if I refused to see the truth in his words, he would show me. Not with threats, not with arguments, but with actions—actions that could not be misunderstood.
She won't escape me this time, he thought, lips pressed into a thin line. Not in her heart. Not in her mind. Not in anything.
Later, at the airport, the tension reached its peak. I tried to distract myself, focusing on bags, tickets, and travel arrangements. I avoided his gaze, clenching my hands around my passport as if holding it tightly could shield me from him.
Shiyuan followed silently, a shadow at my heels. Every time I paused, he mirrored me, keeping a subtle but unbreakable proximity. My pulse raced whenever I felt him near, a mix of fear, residual desire, and anticipation swirling inside me.
He didn't speak, not yet. He let me stew in my emotions, letting my confusion and lingering feelings rise until I was practically vibrating with unspoken tension.
Every glance we exchanged, every accidental brush of hands while lifting luggage, sent a jolt through me—yet my pride wouldn't allow me to acknowledge it.
She doesn't trust me. She doubts me, he repeated in his mind, chest tightening. Then I'll make her see. She'll have no choice.
He was quiet, careful, following me closely as we moved through the terminal. People barely noticed the pair of us, but he noticed me—every movement, every hesitation, every quick inhale. Every subtle indication of my inner conflict.
And he would not leave it at that.
For me, the plane, the lines at security, the crowded gates—all of it became a blur. My thoughts spun around one thing: the words I overheard, the lingering heat from last night, the unresolved tension, and the mystery of his intentions.
I didn't know if I was coming closer to understanding him or if I was walking straight into another heartbreak.
Shiyuan, a few steps behind, watched my every motion, every expression. He could read me better than I could read myself, yet he was patient. Silent. Calculating.
If words cannot reach her, actions will. She is mine, and I will not fail.
We approached the gate, my chest tight with unresolved emotion. I kept my gaze averted, shoulders tense, hands clutching my bag.
Shiyuan's shadow lingered just behind me, unwavering, unrelenting. The air between us was electric—charged with miscommunication, possessiveness, and the undeniable heat of our last night.
Neither of us spoke, yet the tension screamed louder than words ever could.
The next chapter would either break us apart or finally force the truth into the open—and I had no idea which path awaited.