Iden's footsteps echoed softly in the dark hallway as he made his way to the bedroom, his heart heavy with a mixture of guilt and tenderness. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the hushed rustle of his movements. As he turned the doorknob, a sense of trepidation gripped him, unsure of what he would find inside. The moon cast a haunting glow into the now clean room, illuminating Ellaya's form like an ethereal specter in the night. Her peaceful slumber seemed at odds with the turmoil that had unfolded earlier, her face a mask of innocence marred by the evidence of her silent suffering. Gently, he approached her, his presence a mere whisper in the stillness of the room. He carefully sat on the floor beside her bed, his gaze fixed on her pale face. The sight of her tear-stained cheeks and delicate features stirred a storm of emotions within him. He reached out and tenderly brushed her hair away from her face, revealing the faint traces of a cut on her lips and the bruise
"I demand to know, Ellaya," Iden growled, his voice thick with seething jealousy. The day's events were a blur, but his wife's subconscious whispers of another man's name gnawed at him as she slept, leaving him burning with rage. His grip tightened around her chin, pulling her closer, his eyes ablaze with fury. She quivered, unable to meet his intense gaze. "Tell me... who. Is. Leo?" he demanded, with sheer anger and hurt. Her voice wavered as she tried to respond, "I don't... I don't... know," she stuttered, the fear evident in her eyes. The frustration boiling inside him spilled over. He flicked her chin with a mocking smile. His heavy gaze scanned her for the last time before storming out of the room, leaving behind a tense silence. Ellaya was left alone, the echo of their confrontation ringing in her ears. She folded her legs close to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as tears streamed down her face. The room echoed with her sobs. Her body shook violently and her hear
Ellaya's mind raced, unable to shake off the unsettling sight in the study. Despite the disbelief tugging at her thoughts, her heart felt heavy with a truth she was reluctant to accept. Lost in her turmoil, she stared intently at the table, her grip on the spoon tightening as it dug into her plate. "Ellaya," Annabell's urgent voice pierced through her thoughts, causing her to startle. The clatter of her spoon hitting the floor echoed in the tense silence. Ellaya reached down to retrieve it, her gaze lifted, only to catch Iden gripping Annabell's hand forcefully. A surge of emotion gripped Ellaya as she witnessed Annabell's futile attempt to free herself from his grasp, the unshed tears burning in Ellaya's eyes, threatening to fall down. She wiped away the tears with a trembling hand as she sank back into her seat. Uncertainty clouded her mind, yet one thing remained clear; her heart refused to believe in this cruel charade. Their eyes met in a silent clash of wills, both refusin
Ellaya's world was in turmoil. Each day felt like a storm, with every moment echoing Iden's absence. His silence wrapped around her like a suffocating shroud, leaving her gasping for answers. Desperation gripped her as she dialed his number, only to be met with the deafening void of unanswered calls. Seated before a mirror, Ellaya gazed at her reflection. The woman staring back had eyes like amethyst orbs, wide and hauntingly deep. Cascading waves of dark hair with a mystical purple sheen framed a face that defied convention. Her complexion, a delicate shade of baby pink, hinted at otherworldly origins. In the mirror's gaze, she saw a being that transcended mere humanity. It was a face marked by whispers of ancient power and forbidden allure. Inside, emotions roiled—anguish, defiance, and a fierce longing for acceptance. Her form spoke of a silent struggle against judgment and isolation. The reflection before her was not merely a woman; she was a paradox. In her mother's words, a d
Ellaya refrained from stopping her or asking more, feeling a sense of unease. Memories of recent events flooded back, creating tension in the air. She guided him to their room and helped him onto the bed. Gently, she removed his shoes, socks, and tie, tenderly wiping his face with a damp cloth. As her hand brushed his cheek, he grasped it, locking eyes with her. The intensity in his gaze sent shivers down her spine. He held her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze as he drew her closer, his gaze focused intently on her face, examining every detail. With his other hand, he caressed her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin beneath his touch. She closed her eyes briefly, then met his intense look once more. Running his fingers through her hair, he pulled her nearer, his scent mingling with the faint tang of alcohol, enveloping her in a daze. The world around them faded into a blur as they breathed in sync, their desire palpable in the air. The warmth of his palm against her skin creat
In a tense room thick with apprehension, the man's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "I'll ask you this one final time, my dear princess. Who is Leo?" His words hung in the air, heavy with expectation and a hint of danger. Her eyes snapped from his hand to his gaze. His expression was eerily composed—too composed—which only hinted at the storm brewing within him. Uncertainty clouded her mind as she shook her head, faltering, "I... I don't know." Beads of cold sweat formed on her forehead, her heart racing as if desperate to break free from her chest. A pulsating ache throbbed in her temple, and her breaths came in short gasps. Almost instantly, a barrage of photos flew towards her, grazing her skin as they scattered across the bed and floor. Among the chaos, her gaze locked onto one of the fallen pictures. Shock contorted her features, her eyes widening in horror. One burning question echoed in her thoughts: how? How did he find out? His next inquiry snapped her back t
Ellaya moved with deliberate grace, the clinking of dishes softly counterpointing the morning stillness. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room, mingling with the scent of warm pastries. Iden's gaze bore into her, his body tense, betraying the storm brewing within. As he sipped his coffee, the ceramic cup clinked against the saucer, harsh against the quiet tension. His eyes, dark pools of emotion, followed her with an intensity that made her skin prickle with unease. The silence between them was heavy with unspoken words, each gesture laden with meaning. After their latest confrontation, he didn't leave the house. Instead, he sought refuge in the guest room. Anger boiled inside him, driving him to smash everything in sight. Despite hating to waste money, he took out his frustration on the furniture. Each blow was intense, showing his inner turmoil. The room echoed with his destruction. From the adjacent bedroom came muffled cries, fueling his rage even more. Breaki
Fuck the marriage. Fuck the damn woman Fuck this feeling. It was the fifth bottle of whiskey—maybe rum or vodka, who knew? The burn, the goddamn burn, was still there. He tried to soothe it with alcohol, but the more he drank, the more the unbearable fire engulfed him. It was an inferno that never dimmed, swallowing him whole. His coat jacket was thrown somewhere in the corner, necktie dangling loosely, shirt buttons ripped and lost. His disheveled hair mirrored his total mess of a state. His phone rang, and for a second, he wished it was her—the woman who had turned his world upside down. At first, he married her for revenge, to show her what poverty felt like, to make her realize the sting of broken trust, to leave her surrounded by people yet utterly alone in darkness. To make her feel heartbreak. But now, whatever was happening was totally different from what he had planned. He didn't know when and how he had fallen into the dark grave he had dug for her. Not only was sh
The hand under his trembled slightly, her eyelashes flicked. Iden's body stiffened, rigid, and his heart throbbed violently. He clenched his hand, his eyes focused on her. Her eyes weren't focused, but she slowly opened them and tried to say something. "Laaya," he whispered. Finally, the tear he had been holding back fell down his cheeks, and he didn't even realize it. "Iden," she spoke softly. Her eyes were still not focused and fluttered twice before she finally shut them again. "Ellaya," he called out, his voice laced with panic. The doctors rushed in. "She... she just opened her eyes," he said anxiously, gently rubbing her hand. "Don't worry, Mr. Ruan. She's out of the coma now," the doctor reassured him. Iden exhaled deeply, nodding silently, his gaze fixed on her pale face and the steady rise and fall of her breaths. Every passing moment felt like agony to him. Guilt, a sensation foreign to him until now, gnawed at his insides, tormenting him with every breath. At
Iden returned to the hospital, his clothes clean and looking noble and handsome, as if the accident meant nothing and was just a passing moment. But the scrapes on his knuckles hinted at a fierce battle he had fought, as if he had gone through hell and back. He pushed open the door, and the sight still stung his eyes, hurting him like hell. His footsteps were light on the floor as he approached her bedside. Sitting down beside her, his fingertips touched her. She was pale and warm against his skin, still unconscious, still in a coma. He caressed her cheeks, noting the bandages on her head and the faint marks of several small cuts. "I am sorry, princess. I should have done better," he whispered, his voice cracking with sheer emotion. He had beaten the shit out of the person who caused her condition, but the flame in his heart still burned fiercely, and he knew why. If only he had not allowed her to sit in the car and wait for her death. If only he had never left. But he knew th
Ellaya was taken to the emergency room, leaving Iden waiting outside, surrounded by doctors and nurses. He was injured and still bleeding but was hell-bent on not getting treated until he was sure she was mended. "Iden, you need to wrap up your wound first," Annabel said, clasping his shoulder and squeezing lightly to ground his lost soul. Iden sat on a chair, his fingers clasped together, head hung low, legs spread apart. His shirt was dyed with red and dark blood, not only his. He was amidst a quest for revenge, yet here he was, tortured by the woman he sought vengeance upon. His eyes flicked toward the operating room, and his fingers tightened. His lips stretched in a straight line, and his eyes were bloodshot. The cold metal gate stared back at him as if mocking him. Inside, Ellaya was surrounded by doctors and nurses. Each moment stretched like an eternity, piercing him like a knife cutting through his very soul. Kaito stood in the corner, arms folded, eyes fixed on his brothe
Iden gently lifted Ellaya out of the wreckage, holding her close as he carried her away from the burning car. Ellaya felt delicate and weightless in his arms, her skin warm to the touch. Despite the searing heat from the flames, Iden pressed on without hesitation. His sole purpose was to ensure Ellaya's safety. Ellaya, can you hear me?" he gasped, his voice trembling with fear and anxiety as he hurried to a safe distance, Annabel right beside him. His heart raced in his chest as he rushed away from the burning wreckage, holding Ellaya close. Each step felt like a race against time, every movement fueled by desperation and a fierce resolve to save her. Ellaya's body seemed so delicate and weightless in his arms, her skin radiating warmth against his own. Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, meeting his gaze with a hint of recognition before gently closing again. "Stay with me, Ellaya," he murmured, his words thick with emotion. "Please, stay with me." Tears welled up, clouding
Sitting rigidly in the car, Ellaya watched in horror as her husband, holding her best friend, jumped out, leaving her utterly alone in the speeding vehicle. Her face lost all color, and her body shivered uncontrollably. Tears streamed down her cheeks like raindrops, and her grip tightened around the car seat as fear crept into her bones, sending chills down her spine. Her fingers trembled as she grabbed the handle of the car door, contemplating jumping out to save her own life. But as if something shifted within her, she dropped the idea. She retreated, folding her legs to her chest and hugging them tightly, hiding her face between her knees as if shielding herself from impending harm. She felt cold and numb, her mind unable to process anything but her past—her abusive and manipulative parents, her struggles in childhood to live a normal life, her desperate craving for parental love, and then Iden, who had entered her life like a sweet melody. Everything had seemed surreal at th
Iden's knuckles turned white as he cranked the wheel at the upcoming bend, but the car careened ahead, unyielding to his desperate pressure on the brakes. An unfamiliar terror clawed its way up his chest, betraying the battle-hardened warrior within him. This wasn't a battlefield with enemy fire; this was a different kind of war, one where his allies' lives hung precariously in the balance. Sweat beaded on his forehead, his jaw clenched in determination, and his eyes widened with raw fear, a stark contrast to the steely resolve usually etched on his face. Iden had always been a warrior, unflinching in the face of battles and bullets, his resolve unwavering even in the shadow of death. Yet today, a different kind of fear seized him, one that clawed at his insides with icy fingers. It was not his own life he feared for, but for the women who stood beside him. The weight of the promise he had made to his dear friend pressed down on him, a solemn vow to protect Annabel at all costs.
Ellaya wiped her tears as she exited the washroom, trying to regain her composure. Her eyes were red and puffy, evidence of the emotional storm she had just endured. She took a deep breath, hoping to steady herself, when she was suddenly startled by a voice. "Hello, rockstar." The deep, husky male voice came from the shadows. Ellaya looked up, her eyes narrowing. The man seemed familiar, but she couldn't place him. He had long hair tied neatly, and he was extremely handsome. "Had a rough night, I see?" The voice carried a hint of mockery. Ellaya saw the man leaning against the wall, arms crossed and smirking at her. His dark eyes seemed to pierce right through her, making her feel even more vulnerable. She tried to mask her emotions, but the pain was still evident in her eyes. "What do you want?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly. Kaito pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer, his smirk never wavering. "Just here to enjoy the party, like everyone else. B
Fuck the marriage. Fuck the damn woman Fuck this feeling. It was the fifth bottle of whiskey—maybe rum or vodka, who knew? The burn, the goddamn burn, was still there. He tried to soothe it with alcohol, but the more he drank, the more the unbearable fire engulfed him. It was an inferno that never dimmed, swallowing him whole. His coat jacket was thrown somewhere in the corner, necktie dangling loosely, shirt buttons ripped and lost. His disheveled hair mirrored his total mess of a state. His phone rang, and for a second, he wished it was her—the woman who had turned his world upside down. At first, he married her for revenge, to show her what poverty felt like, to make her realize the sting of broken trust, to leave her surrounded by people yet utterly alone in darkness. To make her feel heartbreak. But now, whatever was happening was totally different from what he had planned. He didn't know when and how he had fallen into the dark grave he had dug for her. Not only was sh
Ellaya moved with deliberate grace, the clinking of dishes softly counterpointing the morning stillness. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room, mingling with the scent of warm pastries. Iden's gaze bore into her, his body tense, betraying the storm brewing within. As he sipped his coffee, the ceramic cup clinked against the saucer, harsh against the quiet tension. His eyes, dark pools of emotion, followed her with an intensity that made her skin prickle with unease. The silence between them was heavy with unspoken words, each gesture laden with meaning. After their latest confrontation, he didn't leave the house. Instead, he sought refuge in the guest room. Anger boiled inside him, driving him to smash everything in sight. Despite hating to waste money, he took out his frustration on the furniture. Each blow was intense, showing his inner turmoil. The room echoed with his destruction. From the adjacent bedroom came muffled cries, fueling his rage even more. Breaki