Peyton's birthday came soon enough. It was a Friday, and I waited for him at the restaurant I had reserved.
When I called him, it took a moment for the line to connect.
"When will you be here?" I asked.
"I've got something to deal with. I'll be a bit late." His tense voice came through the phone, followed by a woman's soft exclamation. The line quickly disconnected.
In that moment, it felt like the blood in my body was running backward.
I looked around at the walls covered in birthday balloons and decorations, then glanced down at the little black dress I had worn specially for the occasion, letting out a bitter laugh.
At 6 p.m., a waiter approached me, asking, "Miss Xie, would you like me to pour you some water?"
I hesitated for a moment before standing up, "No, thank you." "You're not mad anymore?"
Light rain was falling from the sky, and I hailed a taxi.
The ride to the airport was smooth, but my mind was blank.
Honestly, I don't know why I'm so heartbroken when I've known all along that Peyton would meet the heroine.
"Abbey, are you almost there?"
I heard Fiona's voice through the receiver, and my mood lifted: "I'm almost at the airport."
At the empty intersection, a black motorcycle suddenly sped up from behind, roaring and shouting through the pouring rain, recklessly crashing into the roadside barrier.
The path ahead was completely blocked, and the driver, startled, slammed on the brakes.
I looked out the window, the rain was pouring harder, and the person who got off the bike was staggering.
His black suit was wrinkled, smeared with sticky cake stains.
He walked towards me step by step.
The car door opened, and Peyton took off his helmet. Half of his face was covered in blood. He looked off, staring at me intensely, his expression dark, as if he were on the verge of breaking down.
His palm was full of blood as he gently stroked the corner of my eye, his gaze filled with a sick obsession: "Abbey, where are you going?"
The spot he touched on my face was damp, stained with his blood.
Once again, our blood mixed.
Peyton lay on the hospital bed, a bandage around his forehead; his injuries weren't too severe.
Fiona called, asking why I hadn't arrived at the airport yet.
I told her what had just happened: "With Peyton like this, I might… not be able to go abroad right now."
Fiona sighed, hesitating before saying, "Abbey, don't you think something's off with Peyton? The last time we went out drinking, when he carried you home, I felt something was strange."
Last time, Peyton carried me home?
Fiona wanted to say more, but her flight was about to take off, so she said she'd talk to me after she landed.
I put down my phone, feeling a bit dazed.
At that moment, the doctor came out, his tone somewhat serious: "Your brother's injuries aren't severe, but his ankle, the original wound, was caused by someone, and today he got it wet and caught a chill..."
Peyton's ankle injury was caused by someone?
I walked into the hospital room. Peyton's wrist was hooked up to an IV; his face was pale, and he looked down, avoiding my gaze.
"Sis, don't leave me. Other than you, I have no one left."
I stayed silent, nodding slightly, then asked him what had happened with that phone call.
Peyton said that when he went home to change clothes, he was bumped into by a woman carrying a cake, which is why he was delayed.
But wasn't Peyton supposed to fall in love at first sight with the heroine?
My mind was in a whirl, and I wanted to ask Peyton something else, but when I met his dark, intense gaze, I couldn't get a word out.
In truth, I didn't dare ask.
Because he's my brother.
The hospital room was eerily silent.
Between us was a barrier, as fragile as a cicada's wing, but one that could never be pierced—blood ties.
