“When you dragged me to your place, I thought you were just heartbroken and using me as a rebound.”
My chest tightened, my heartbeat pounding in my ears. For a moment, my vision blurred. But I shoved it all down. I forced a
casual shrug. “Oh? Well, I took those things to heart. And honestly? They hurt me.”
Yannick stepped forward, closing the distance between us. “You’re gonna hold this against me forever, huh, Yulia?”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve seen how I treat my mother. What makes you think you’re special?”
He sighed. “I don’t want to argue with you. I know something’s going on. I just want the truth.”
My fingers curled into fists, my nails digging into my palms. Then, I smiled and said lightly, “You want the truth? The truth is, I
was mad at you. So, I lied.”
His brows were furrowed together. “You lied? About what?”
I exhaled slowly. “Liking you. It was just a stupid teenage mistake. But now? Now, I want you because I can’t stand that stupid
cold, untouchable act of yours. I need to tear it down. And let’s be honest. You’re not as untouchable as you pretend to be. You
make a pretty useful tool.”
I kept my expression neutral, refusing to let anything slip.
Yannick studied me for a long time, his sharp gaze dissecting every inch of my face. Then, his expression turned ice–cold.
He yanked his wrist from my grasp so hard that I lost my balance and crashed into the shoe cabinet behind me. I hit the ground
with a painful thud. He did not even look back.
Good
He shouldn’t ever turn back
Not for the rest of his life.
1/2
Chapter 9
+15 Bonus
I rented a small place in an old town down south. People came from the warmth of the world, so they should die in warmth too.
But my house was too quiet. Right now, I just wanted to drown in the noise of life.
The place I lived in had a yard, and each room in the house was rented out to someone different–a writer, a painter, a
photographer, and even a doctor who was on vacation.
James Morrison was a freelance photographer. I had seen his work before. It was the kind of photography that made you feel like
you had stepped into another world. After we got to know each other, he offered to take my photo, and I was flattered.
But I turned him down. “Thanks, I appreciate it, but I don’t want to take photos anymore.”
“Why not?”
I stuck my tongue out. “Because I look awful right now.”
He was about to deny it, but then he found my pill bottle in the common area on the second floor. He read the label and could
guess my diagnosis. He did not make a big deal out of it, though. He did not ask around or gossip.
Instead, he walked straight up to me. Holding out the bottle, he asked, “Who do you think this belongs to?”
I smiled, taking it from him.
“Thanks.”
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