Chapter 2
When Nathan saw that I was awake, he quickly came over and hugged me, burying his head in the crook of my neck.
His voice was hoarse and muffled. “Baby, don’t move. Let me recharge for a bit.”
In that moment, I felt like he might actually love me.
My hands instinctively wrapped around his back, my fingers gently running through his hair.
Nathan hugged me even tighter, as if he was afraid I might escape from
his arms.
I stayed in his embrace like that: Even though we were so close, I couldn’t see him clearly anymore.
Thinking about it, my tears started falling uncontrollably.
My tears might’ve dripped onto Nathan’s face, because he slowly woke up.
When he saw my red, swollen eyes, he instantly became alert, his eyes full of worry and heartache.
“What’s wrong, baby? Why are you crying?
“Am I crushing you?”
The more he asked, the more I cried.
He kissed away my tears, panicking and not knowing what to do.
But when he gently nuzzled my face with his head, I suddenly noticed a
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Chapter 2
glaring red stain on his white shirt.
That shade was very distinctive–it was a new color from Dior’s latest collection.
And Genevieve happened to be their spokesperson.
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The words I wanted to confront him with instantly got stuck in my throat, and my mind flashed back to what Genevieve had said to provoke me
years ago.
All those intimate details between them that she had deliberately shown me were magnified in an instant.
It seemed like I was the third wheel.
After a long moment, I weakly pushed Nathan off me. “It’s nothing. I just miss my mom a little.”
This book had been added on your bookshelf.
Nathan paused, as if relieved, and cupped my face with both hands.
“Then let’s go see her right now, okay?”
Before I could answer, his phone on the table rang, and I immediately saw
the caller ID.
The name “Genevieve” was like thorns buried deep in my heart–every time they appeared, I felt like dying.
Nathan quickly kissed my forehead, then took his phone to the balcony.
I couldn’t hear what he said, but seeing his anxious expression made a sense of crisis surge in my heart.
That emotion I’d never felt before seemed to suddenly break through.
Nathan hung up and came out, looking apologetic.
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“Sorry, baby, I can’t go see her with you today.
“Something happened at the company. I need to make an emergency business trip to Atlanta. I have to leave now.”
I bit my lip, swallowing back my pathetic tears.
“Nathan, we…”
The words “should break up” never made it out.
“We’ll… go see her next time.‘
Nathan came over and hugged me, softly comforting me. “Okay then, wait for me to come back.”
Before leaving, he kissed me deeply for a long time, just like always.
In that moment, I even had the illusion that maybe I was overthinking everything.
This book had been added on your bookshelf.
But that afternoon, I saw Genevieve’s Instagram post again.
The picture showed her injured foot, with the caption, “I’d like to thank someone for taking such good care of me.
The comment section exploded with congratulatory messages.
“Ah! Who is this certain someone Genevieve’s talking about? So hard to guess @Nathan Powell”
“I went to the same school as Genevieve. Nathan was always protective of her back then.”
I thought this would go viral, but Genevieve deleted the post shortly after.
There wasn’t a trace of it on the Internet, as if it never happened.
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I gripped my phone, numbly refreshing the page.
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Was it him again? Was he afraid she’d get hurt, so he kept suppressing the trending topics?
I didn’t know what words to use to express my feelings.
I felt like I was dying inside, ice cold despite the summer heat.
Then a new post popped up on my feed from an account I’d seen before.
Netizens had previously exposed this as Genevieve’s alternate account.
The post made my heart sink even more–it was a photo of two people holding hands with fingers interlaced.
The black mole on the guy’s ring finger could only belong to Nathan.
My whole body went cold, my hands shaking uncontrollably until I dropped my phone.
When I picked it up, I had accidentally liked that post.
As I was about to unlike it, I received a direct message from that account.
She sent me a photo of Nathan blow–drying her hair, her tone the same as before.
“I heard he proposed to you? So what?
“You think my twenty–plus years of bond with Nathan will lose to your loveless business marriage?
“In Nathan’s heart, even if you tried your hardest, he’d still choose me.
“One phone call from me and he came running to comfort me. And you? You’re just a loser who can’t even control her own man!”
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