"Come away this weekend," Lu Shen said over dinner, pouring me another glass of red wine.
I blinked, half-surprised, half-tempted. "Where?"
"Anywhere but here."
I laughed, soft. "That sounds dangerous."
He leaned back, eyes warm. "You've been carrying something heavy. I can tell. I won't ask what it is, but… you don't have to do it alone."
I froze.
Because he was right. He didn't know about the betrayal, the debts, the second life. He didn't know I was orchestrating the downfall of the man I once loved.
But somehow, he still saw me.
I looked away, swirling my wine. "I'm not used to soft things."
"Then let me be an exception."
And in that moment, I wanted to believe him.
Just for a night, I let myself. No pretenses, no strategies, no mask. Just his hand in mine, the rain tapping against the windows, and the safety of his presence.
He didn't ask what I was running from.
And I didn't tell him that when this was over, I'd have blood on my hands—metaphorically.
But not guilt.
Never guilt.