A Journey from Bitterness to Truth

“Where is she?”

Yvan locked eyes with Adrian’s sea–green gaze; his voice laced with urgency.

“She went home.”

Adrian let out a light chuckle. “Yvan, you sure are a gentleman, aren’t you?”

Yvan’s face paled; his body suddenly felt as if it had been drained of all strength, and he stood there, a sense of bewildering helplessness washing over him.

Adrian crossed his arms, his handsome brows arched in inquiry. “If I’m not mistaken, you just lost your cool over a woman you once rejected?”

Yvan found himself speechless, shocked by his own lack of control. To have acted out in such a way!

The man’s silence only deepened Adrian’s keen look. “Yvan, I thought you wouldn’t fall for such

a woman.”

Yvan quickly denied it. “Fall for her? Her? Is she even worthy?”

Adrian’s eyebrows shot up at the triple rhetorical questions. “If that’s the case, you needn’t have made such a scene.”

With his arms still crossed, Adrian’s mind unbiddenly swept back to the image of Matilda, tears in her eyes, crashing into his embrace. He shook off the thought, emphasizing each word, “For such a woman, I have my ways to make her comply.”

As he finished, his tone was almost biting, each word a deliberate strike, as though he intended to shatter every ounce of pride Matilda might possess.

Yvan watched Adrian’s face, an odd irritation bubbling up within him again.

–

Matilda had left early; Yvan had drained all her interest in staying. After saying goodbye to Chloe, she walked alone to the underground parking lot. She hadn’t driven there she just needed some air, feeling nearly suffocated by the day’s events. She had nearly drowned in Yvan’s gaze.

Her fingers were still trembling. The fear of Yvan had long ago seeped into her bones, becoming an instinctive habit. She hugged herself in the empty parking lot, its silence surrounding her as she leaned against the wall and let out a meaningless, low growl.

How many more times… how many more repetitions of this pain before she could step out of this shadow?

“Yvan, what kind of steely heart must I forge to withstand your relentless hurt?” She screamed. Content is property © NôvelDrama.Org.

Tears rolled down uncontrollably as Matilda gasped for air, her heart spasming with acute pain. Like a wounded animal, she could only lick her own wounds salvation had to come from within; no one else could be her savior.

–

It was under such coincidental circumstances that Adrian bid farewell to Yvan, only to spot that frail figure in the parking lot.

Matilda was collecting herself, ready to call a cab when she saw someone approaching from a distance. His slow yet graceful stride became clear as he drew closer, his green eyes gleaming like fine emeralds with an unsettling brilliance.

Adrian’s golden hair was loosely tied back, his striking features accentuated by his fair skin.

He drew near, whistled, and, with hands in his pockets, quipped, “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be off crying on someone’s shoulder by now.”

His teasing tone made Matilda frown. She attempted to leave, but he called out to her.

“Hey, Matilda Thompson.”

He rarely called her by her full name, usually opting for a more teasing moniker. But now, there was a rare seriousness in his voice.

Matilda paused subconsciously, listening as he continued, “When you pushed Rachel down five years ago, do you remember what else happened?”

Why was he asking about this now?

Matilda turned, her voice cold, “Sorry, I’d rather not discuss this with you.”

With that, she walked out of the parking garage, moving swiftly as if chased by a predator.

Adrian watched her leave, his phone vibrating in his pocket, signaling an unexpected message. He pulled it out, his long lashes fluttering with surprise.

The night wore on, the crescent moon high above, as the city breathed into its final frenzy.

Matilda left the bar, navigating through the crowd with her striking features drawing attention, but she ignored all advances. Her icy gaze cut through the night as she stepped out: She called Criss to say she was heading home early and hailed a cab.

On the way home, Matilda frowned, the smoky scent of the bar leaving her nauseous. A breath of fresh air in the cab seemed to help, and she let down the window, her face pale in the moonlight, restraining something with great effort.

Once home, she paid the cab fare briskly and strode inside. The nausea had subsided somewhat after the night air, but it left her with a lingering unease that broke out into a cold sweat. This feeling was not unfamiliar.