Xi Yuan looked down, closed his eyes, and inhaled a long, shaky breath, his shoulders stiffening as he shook his head.
That was all it took. She stared at the man for a moment. He looked more shattered than she'd ever seen him—even more so than when he'd told her about his grandparents' death. It was as if the entire world had slipped from his grasp in a matter of days. And then, with all the strength she could gather, she forced herself to look away from him. It was so damn hard to watch him like that.
He lifted his head, his hand resting on her stomach, his thumb drawing small, subconscious circles against the fabric. She wasn't… reacting. She needed to respond—something, anything. And frankly, he could handle her cries, her anger, even her worst accusations. But her silence was as worrisome as it was suffocating. Her velvety black hair was undone, lazily covering her face, her gaze fixed on the faint glow of the bedside lamp. She was in his arms, yet she'd never felt so far.
