I peeked out, and Janiah had already reached the door, mumbling to herself, "Heterosexuals are really something."
"Baby, what do you want to say to me?" Trent pinched the bank card I brought with his uninjured fingers.
"Inside is one million, to pay the breakup fee." I moved my stiff limbs and replied shakily.
"So, agreeing to have meals with me was just to raise money to leave me?"
I nodded and then shook my head.
Trent propped himself up on the desk with one hand, trapping me between him and the desk. With the force he exerted, his shirt highlighted his well-defined muscles, and a slight smile appeared on his lips, "I'll give you one more chance. Break up or not?"
"Is what Janiah said true?" The proximity made me too afraid to look directly at Trent.
"Yes, it's true. Sanaa, you like me, but you're afraid I'm just seeking revenge, that all the good is just an act, and you're worried about getting deeper into it, so you're eager to get rid of me, right?"
Trent laughed helplessly, lazily resting his chin on my neck. "Baby, don't you know that love can't be faked? After all this time, you still don't believe it?"
I was touched on a sensitive topic, becoming even more awkward.
"Baby, can you explain why you saved every private photo I sent you, organized them into categories, with labels for morning views and late-night views…?"
My face turned bright red, in disbelief: "Trent, you went through my photo album!"
"After dinner yesterday, you forgot to log out, and I accidentally saw them."
I was still a bit doubtful: "You said you liked me, so why were you always so resistant when you were still blind?"
Trent's laughter was very low, brushing against my ear. "Baby, I was only sixteen back then, naturally a bit shy."
"And I was angry at that time because I thought you were just lustful, not genuinely interested in me."
Perhaps if Trent hadn't been blind, I could have seen the surging affection in his youthful eyes back then.
But if he hadn't been blind, I might never have had any intersection with him in my lifetime.
Fate can be really amazing sometimes.
At sixteen, Trent was as shy as a little bunny.
Now at twenty-six, he's turned into a cunning old rascal.
"Trent, you deliberately had Janiah come over at mealtime, didn't you? Just to let me overhear your conversation."
"Yes," the old rascal admitted readily, "Otherwise, how would I dispel your doubts?"
"Baby, I admit, I did consider getting revenge on you. But when you fainted from low blood sugar in front of me, I realized I just couldn't do it. I'm sorry for making you misunderstand and live in constant worry. But I really like you, deeply."
"Baby, don't make me wait for an answer. Give me a clear answer, break up or not? If you break up now, you'll lose a million, but if we stay together, all my money is yours. If you need it, I can arrange for an immediate transfer of assets."
Trent had clearly planned everything out, leaving me no chance to refuse.
Seeing me hesitate, the man leaned into my ear and whispered, "Of course, you also have me. Little sister, you won't need to look at my photos in the middle of the night anymore."
"Trent." I tapped his arm.
The man, looking aggrieved, furrowed his brow and raised his increasingly swollen right hand, "It hurts—"
"Is it okay?" I felt a surge of guilt.
"It hurts. I can't eat. You have to feed me."
"…Alright."
Outside the venetian blinds, people came and went. Each time I fed Trent, my heart pounded nervously.
After a tense meal, I couldn't bear Trent's intense gaze any longer and changed the subject, "Let's go, the meeting is about to start."
During the meeting, everyone was concerned about Trent's right hand.
He answered seriously, "A kitten scratched me."
Looking at me, who wanted to bury my head in the table, Aisha pointedly asked, "What cat? Have we seen it?"
Trent replied, "A Ragdoll cat."
I couldn't hold back anymore. Though I remained outwardly calm, I gently kicked him under the table.
After the afternoon meeting ended, everyone started to leave one by one.
I noticed that Trent wasn't doing anything—he wasn't packing up materials or showing any sign of leaving. His gaze was fixed on me, his beautiful eyes shimmering:
"Baby, let's go home."
I was surprised, "It's only four o'clock."
Trent said nonchalantly, "Let them have a day off today." Trent said nonchalantly, "Let them have a day off today."
I had a vague feeling that Trent's suggestion to go home wasn't quite sincere. Just as I was about to refuse, he said softly:
"If you don't come home with me, I'll be very sad. And when I'm sad, I tend to make the employees work overtime and hold meetings."
Before I could say anything, a chorus of voices came from outside the meeting room, "Ms. Sexton, go home with him."
The loudest of them was Aisha.
It turned out they hadn't left; they were hiding by the door listening.
I stood there, stunned and rooted to the spot.
Some people seem to be alive, but have actually been gone for a while.
