Chapter 2

Sarah's POV

James strode past me into the room. His gaze landed on the brazier. “Is that... the photo album?"

"Why burn it? I thought you loved those photos." He frowned at me, a trace of reproach in his eyes.

I didn't understand. He never liked taking photos, so why question me about burning them?

"It's nothing. They were getting moldy and yellow, so I decided to just burn them."

He stared at me with his frown deepening. “Those photos were of me. They're my property in a way.

"Why didn't you tell me before burning them?" James turned to confront me. "Sarah, what's going on with you lately?"

"Nothing." I avoided his gaze.

"Fine, if you won't tell me. Let's eat - where's my cream of mushroom soup?" James asked, his irritation barely concealed.

I picked up my phone and opened a delivery app. "I don't feel like cooking today. Let's order in."

James's expression darkened further. He tossed the medicine bag onto the couch and gripped my wrist tightly.

"Why won't you cook? I told you in advance I wanted it!"

I yanked my hand away. "There's no reason. I just don't want to."

"If you wants soup, you can go home and have your housekeeper make it."

James's anger instantly flared. The rage in his eyes no longer contained, he grabbed my shoulders and roughly pushed me against the wall.

"Are you throwing a tantrum? Sarah, know your place!"

"And what place is that?" I gave him a cold smile. "Oh right, I'm your friend with benefits and secretary. That's my place."

He froze at my words, his expression complicated as he released me. "That was just talk, it didn't mean anything.

"Don't take it seriously. I didn't mean it that way, I was just talking casually with them."

If he hadn't thought it deep down, how could such words come so easily?

I smiled bitterly, not bothering to expose his lie further. Opening the door, I said, “You should go.”

Seeing my anger, he tried to pull me into his arms. He kissed me, touched me, just like always, as if his body could erase my unhappiness.

As if intimacy could sweep away all my dissatisfaction.

I pushed him away immediately.

"I'm really tired today. I can't do it."

James frowned. "Is this because of my engagement? Is that why you're upset?"

"Don't be unhappy. I lied yesterday; I'm not getting engaged."

"Mr. Carter, who you get engaged to is your business. I won't be upset about it - we're not dating, you don't need to explain anything to me.

"Besides, I was the one who liked you first, who pursued you. What we have is just physical relationship, not love."

As he tried to speak, his phone rang. A woman's voice could be faintly heard through the speaker.

I couldn’t hear what she said, but without hesitation, James answered, “I understand. I’ll be there right away.”

He rushed out immediately, barely throwing back a "Something came up, I have to go."

I picked up the bag of medicine and found the receipt inside - it was signed by his assistant.

Of course. How could someone like James Carter actually buy medicine for me himself?

I opened my laptop and began carefully drafting my resignation letter.

After eight years, it was time to leave him and live my own life.

The next day when I returned to the office, I found an elegantly wrapped box on my desk.

"Wow, Sarah, someone sent you another gift?"

My colleague peeked over, teasing me. “You really are the whole package—smart, beautiful, and popular!”

I opened the box, but my smile faded when I saw what was inside.

A pair of limited edition Saint Laurent heels.

I already had at least three pairs of this exact style in my closet.

After every time we met, James would send me a pair of heels.

At first, it made me happy because James once told me I looked beautiful in heels.

So even though he kept sending the same style, I didn’t mind. I felt happy.

But now, I didn't want them anymore.

"I don't want these. They're yours." I pushed the box toward my colleague.

"Really?" She excitedly tried them on. "How do they look? Beautiful, right?"

Soon after, my desk phone rang - James wanted me in his office.

"Why did you give away my gift to someone else?"

The moment I entered, he pinned me against the door. "Sarah, even tantrums should have limits!"

"Besides, didn't we agree? Marriage isn't possible between us - we can only be friends with benefits."

I laughed bitterly inside. Right, I wasn't even his girlfriend - what right did I have to throw tantrums?

"I know. I just didn't want them," I interrupted him. "You've given me the same shoes three times."

"What?" James's frown softened. "I'm sorry, I'll be more careful next time.

"Or tell me what you want. I'll buy it for you."

I forced a smile. James, what I want is something you’ll never give me.

"No need." I glanced at the clock. "It's lunch break. I need to eat."

"Wait," James grabbed my hand. "Eat with me."

"No thanks, we have different tastes."

I gently pulled my hand away under his surprised gaze. "Actually, Mr. Carter, I love spicy food. I only avoided it because you don't.

"Today I want to eat what I like. Please enjoy your meal."

For the entire week after that, James surprisingly didn't get angry with me. That weekend, he sent me an address, asking me to join him for dinner.

It was a Thai restaurant.

"You said you like spicy food, right? This new place is supposed to be good. Let's try it."

Seeing his text, I instinctively gripped my phone tighter, hesitating before finally agreeing to go.

During dinner, James casually mentioned, "I turned down the marriage my mother arranged."

I froze mid-air as I struggled to control my emotions. "Oh? Why?"

He stared at me intently, emphasizing each word, "Because I already have someone I like."

My heart erupted in chaos.

What did he mean? Could he... have really rejected his family's arrangement for me?

The thought struck like lightning, and I could barely stop myself from asking.

"That person is..."

"I won't be in the office tomorrow - I have other plans. I'll call if anything comes up. Make sure to answer."

He stood up. "I have a meeting back at the office. You finish eating. Take your time."

I nodded happily as I watched him leave.

He must love me, right?