Chapter 4

Celine POV

After speaking, I looked into Westley's dark eyes.

In his eyes was a cold, detached clarity I had never seen before.

"Today is your party. Do you really have to make such a big deal over a game penalty?"

My heart felt scorched by flames, yet I laughed instead.

"Fine, let's not talk about the penalty. Then let me ask you why is Sophie Evans at my party?"

Westley's brow furrowed tightly.

"She's my secretary. This party was arranged and organized by her. Why shouldn't she be here?"

I was utterly astonished.

"A secretary can actually sit together with her boss and his friends, playing games with no sense of professional boundaries or hierarchy?"

"Secretaries are employees, not slaves without human rights. What boundaries or hierarchy?"

Westley's expression was clearly displeased.

"Besides, it's not working hours now. Letting her sit and play with us. Is that really so hard for you to accept?"

But what proper secretary would deliberately fall into her boss's arms?

What proper secretary would have her boss take her to see stars?

Would a proper secretary get "carried away" and use her tongue during a penalty game?

Why didn't any of his previous secretaries behave like Sophie Evans?

Before I could ask any of these questions, Westley's cold, hard voice sounded again.

"We've been separated for three years, rarely together. We finally ended our long-distance relationship. You came back and were cold to me, wouldn't let me touch you. I respected that."

"But you shouldn't use dirty thoughts to misunderstand my relationship with Sophie as something inappropriate."

Was I the one with dirty thoughts, misunderstanding them?

As I stood frozen, Westley's thin lips pressed together.

He spoke coolly and distantly.

"You know how much I love you. Sophie is a good girl. Hardworking, serious, and responsible. She's not what you think she is."

"Celine, I'm human too. I get tired. Do you know how exhausting it is when you question me over these little things?"

I couldn't describe what I felt at that moment.

I only felt his words were like blades slicing through my flesh, leaving me unable to breathe from the pain.

In his eyes, all the inappropriate, boundary-crossing ambiguous behavior between him and Sophie Evans was just trivial.

My concern and questioning had somehow become my fault, making him feel tired.

I remained silent. Westley realized his words had been too harsh.

He had never spoken to me like this before.

He said irritably,

"Let's both cool down. I'll stay at the company tonight. You should think about whether you're being unreasonable."

With that, Westley turned and went back into the private room, not caring about me anymore.

Tears slid down my face and into the corners of my mouth. I tasted their salty, bitter flavor.

After an unknown amount of time, I took a deep breath.

Finally, I left the party alone.

Returning to the villa, passing by the entrance, my red, swollen eyes caught sight of the watch in the trash can.

It was the birthday gift I had carefully selected and brought back from abroad for him.

And now it had been discarded in the trash.

I suddenly remembered how when I was abroad, I made no friends, had no social activities, and spent day and night in the library studying.

All because he said he looked forward to me returning home early to marry him.

Only three years. I thought in those short three years, his feelings for me had never changed.

But the truth was, I was the only one still hoping to return home and get married.

As for him, not only did he no longer anticipate it, he didn't even want the birthday gift I gave him...

My fingers trembled as I picked up the watch.

But just as I lifted it, after thinking for a moment, I threw it back into the trash.

Since Westley didn't care anymore, why should I be reluctant to let go?

A relationship that was no longer pure. Even if it tore my heart to pieces, I would rather discard it than keep it.

During the two days Westley didn't come home, through Sophie Evans's frequent Instagram updates, I learned he was indeed staying at the company.

Sophie Evans's first post:

"He drank too much and had a headache. I massaged it for him and he praised my pressure as just right. So happy."

The accompanying image showed Westley sitting behind his desk, rubbing his temples in pain.

I smiled coldly and gave her a like.

The second post:

"Today I accidentally broke his favorite cup. I thought he'd be furious, but instead he patted my head and said it was okay."

The accompanying image showed a ceramic cup shattered into countless pieces.

That was a ceramic piece Westley and I had made together at a pottery studio, our first joint craft project. Westley thought it had great commemorative value and had always carefully preserved it, never letting anyone else touch it.

I tugged at the corner of my lips and gave this post a like too.

The day Westley came home, I was organizing my belongings.

Seeing me pack all my things into cardboard boxes, Westley's expression changed.

He strode over quickly and grabbed my hand.

"Why are you packing these things?"