He opens his captivating eyes and stares at me, their sparkling allure beautiful to behold.
After this ordeal, I realize I'm still not strong enough; I simply cannot bring myself to hurt him. So... let's part ways, to avoid further entanglements, to lessen the guilt I feel towards my parents.
Megan, the murderer of my parents, I will never let her go.
Yet, Evan refuses to let me leave. Like a provoked beast, he roars at me, "You promised me, as long as I'm alive, you'd give me a chance."
"Evan, I never made such a promise; that's what you've assumed," I respond coldly, finding a vengeful pleasure in seeing him suffer.
"I'd rather die than be with you."
I turn and walk towards the door. As I reach for the doorknob, Evan strides forward, grabs my hand, and pulls me back into his arms.
"You are my wife, whether you like it or not, and you won't escape me in this lifetime."
His domineering words infuriate me. Why should his word be law? I forced him to marry me three years ago; that was my fault, and I have paid dearly for it. That was my debt to him, and I've paid it. Now, what right does he have to demand anything from me?
The weeds of vengeance in my heart grow wilder, my hatred intensifies.
"Evan, how does it feel, holding someone else’s wife?" I mock him in the tone he once used to insult me.
His hands slowly drop from my shoulders, and he steps back, his face paling further. He looks at me incredulously and asks, "What did you say?"
A smile plays on my lips, the most genuine one since our reunion. "Evan, did you think I'd remain single to wait for you during these three years? That I wouldn't have another man?
No one stands still as time went by.
"I'm married now, to another man."
Pain shoots through my shoulders as Evan lunges forward, his hands gripping me tightly. Those beautiful eyes bore into me with madness, "Say it, you don’t love him, do you? You don’t love him…"
I look at him calmly, recalling the only time we were intimate, when he pleaded with me, abandoning his pride, begging me pathetically, hoping for a lie that he loved me.
"I love him, of course I love him. Why else would I choose to marry him?" Seeing the intense pain in his eyes, I deliberately utter the words to hurt him more.If only this could get him away from me, to breathe freely. I don’t mind hurting him to achieve that.
"Ah..."
Suddenly, he lifts me in his arms. I let out a cry, seeing his livid face, the coldness in his eyes, his forehead veins bulging, knowing he’s struggling to restrain himself.
He pins me down on the bed, and my mind is flooded with humiliating memories. Fear stiffens my body, my limbs grow cold, thinking he intends to degrade me again. But as I'm about to struggle, a blanket carrying his intense scent covers me.
I look up at him, but he leaves me only a disheveled back.
It's not until the door slams shut with a "bang" that I come to my senses.
I throw off the blanket and run to the door, not even bothering with shoes. He's gone; I can escape. But upon opening the door, two tall, sturdy bodyguards stationed outside bring me to a reluctant halt.
Yet, this seems reasonable. When has that meticulously minded man ever left anything to be taken advantage of?
