Chapter 5
868words
Alex, who hadn't been drinking, drove me home.
I pulled open the back door of the car, but my movement froze in an instant. Julian sat there, occupying all the space on the other side. The interior light was off, his face hidden in the darkness, only a pair of gleaming black eyes staring directly at me.
When drunk, Julian didn't like to talk, he just liked to use those unfathomably deep eyes to silently look at people, as if he could see through their souls.
"He's drunk, I'm giving him a ride back on my way, you don't mind, Clara?" Alex leaned his head back from the driver's seat, his tone carrying a hint of apology.
What else could I say? I climbed into the car, sitting pressed against the door, with a seemingly all-devouring, vast distance between Julian and me.
His hand remained suspended at his side, fingers distinct, yet unlike before, he didn't provocatively invade my space.
The road back to the city still stretched a long distance ahead.
I leaned my head against the cold car window, closed my eyes, and pretended to be asleep. The city's neon lights cast flowing, colorful shadows on my eyelids. Each slight tremor of the car would make my head lightly bump against the glass, producing a dull sound. But I didn't mind; that tiny bit of pain actually made me feel like I was truly alive.
Julian's profile was reflected in the car window, his features distinct, like a silent mountain. I could sense that his gaze remained fixed on the estranged distance between us, his thoughts unknown to me.
The car finally arrived at my apartment building. I thanked Alex and opened the door, about to get out.
"I'll walk you up," Julian's voice suddenly sounded behind me, carrying a hint of non-negotiable command.
"No need."
He didn't listen to me and got out of the car, walking around to my side. The evening breeze lifted the corner of his clothes, and that mixed scent of alcohol and cool pine enveloped me completely. His tone remained cold: "If something happens to you alone, we all bear responsibility."
I had no strength to argue, so I could only let him follow behind me as I entered the apartment building.
In the elevator, the space was suffocatingly small. The metal walls reflected a cold white light, stretching our silhouettes long and thin.
He leaned against the wall; the alcohol seemed to have finally gone to his head. He irritably loosened his tie, revealing a section of pale neck. Then, he spoke, a series of questions like poisoned arrows shooting toward me.
"The person my mother introduced was quite good, why didn't you accept?"
He slightly raised his chin, looking down at me with eyes full of inquiry.
"Not good enough for you?"
"Then what type do you like?"
He was deliberately asking questions, becoming addicted to it.
"Someone like me?"
I looked at him through the bright elevator wall, our eyes meeting, with my face reflected there, as calm as a dead pool of water. "I don't like it anymore," I said.
My answer seemed to make him pause for a moment, but he quickly curled his lips again, that smile carrying a hint of imperceptible cruelty.
"Oh? So someone opposite to me, like Leo Sanders?"
My gaze froze for an instant. My heart felt as if it was being tightly gripped by an invisible hand.
He caught my momentary distraction, as if he had finally found a weapon that could hurt me, and his face revealed an almost pleased expression. "Too late," he said, "he's getting engaged."
The elevator made a "ding" sound as it reached the floor, and the doors slowly opened.
Julian seemed to have become interested; he suddenly reached out his hand and pressed the door open button, blocking my way. He asked casually, yet his tone was like announcing a long-awaited verdict:
"Clara, since you're going to marry someone else anyway, how about giving us a try?"
After saying this, he bent down, leaned closer to me, trying to find in my eyes a ripple of familiarity that he knew, one that would stir for him.
"Could it be that… you've actually been waiting for me to say this?"
His warm breath fell on my face, carrying the lingering scent of whiskey. I didn't back away.
"I wasn't."
I looked up, gazing at him with utmost seriousness, and said word by word:
"Julian, the day we separated, I made it perfectly clear that I would never like you again."
"Is that so?"
He straightened up, one hand in his pocket, resuming that lazy, casual demeanor, as if the person who had just proposed to "try again" wasn't him.
"Very well." He chuckled lightly, the sound echoing hollowly in the small elevator. He released his hand from the door open button.
"Just don't marry someone randomly just to forget about me."
Julian's attitude was so nonchalant, clearly despicable, yet he insisted on saying pretty words. His tone somehow sounded genuinely sincere:
"More than anyone, I hope that you can find someone you truly love to marry."
"I will certainly bless you."
