She had never felt such regret in her life.
Regret for meeting him.
Regret for marrying him.
Regret for everything that followed from the moment she fell for him.
Clutching the blanket beside her, she wrapped it around her nearly bare body, curling up at the head of the bed, trembling. Her long hair was tangled and disheveled, unable to hide her pale cheeks. Her lips, once a soft cherry pink, were now bloodless, bitten, bruised, and stained with blood.
She had wanted to rush out with him so desperately, but her clothes had been torn to shreds by him. How was she supposed to leave the room with nothing to cover herself?
She stared blankly at the ceiling, numb and hollow, until she heard the office door open again.
Her body, which had just begun to calm, began to tremble once more.
The sound of footsteps grew closer, a tall shadow looming over her. She gripped the blanket tightly and curled into herself, burying her face between her knees, too afraid to even look at him.
Enrique stood before her, his eyes cold as frost. Looking at Sana, who resembled a terrified bird, he clenched his jaw. His entire demeanor was tight with tension, a dark storm swirling in his expression.
He clenched the paper bag in his hand into a fist, then slowly released it.
"The clothes are in the bag."
His voice was calm, too calm. As if nothing had happened just minutes ago. As if everything between them was completely ordinary.
But that indifferent tone made Sana's heart burn even more.
She slowly raised her head. Her eyes were filled with shame and hatred.
"You don't have to wear them if you don't want to," he added coldly.
His brow furrowed as he took in her appearance. Frustration surged through him. With a low grunt, he tugged at his tie, turned, and walked away.
His tall figure moved with heavy, forceful steps. Normally composed and aloof, now he seemed volatile, restrained, but barely. The coldness in his features was unbearable. His dark eyes were bottomless, like a frozen abyss.
"If torturing me makes you happy, then go ahead," she whispered hoarsely. "I'll take full responsibility for the mistakes I made."
Her voice was low and raw.
She stared at his elegant but distant back. The hatred in her eyes slowly faded, replaced by an empty indifference.
That back, so familiar, so unforgettable. It reminded her of the first time she met him. But now, he was no longer the boy in her memories.
The man she once loved would never be so harsh, so cruel. His heart had become colder than a blade.
If this was what he wanted, then so be it.
They would torment each other until the end.
Enrique paused briefly.
His steps wavered, just slightly, but enough to reveal the disturbance beneath his calm facade.
With her head lowered and spirit broken, Sana pulled a light green dress from the bag and slipped it on. To her surprise, it fit perfectly, like it had been made just for her. The gentle, playful shade brought a fragile warmth to her pale face.
She stared at herself in the mirror. Her hands curled into fists, then slowly released.
She knew she shouldn't feel this way. She knew there was no hope.
But still, her heart stirred.
Maybe... maybe he still cares.
Otherwise, how could he know my size so well?
But the more she thought about it, the more it hurt.
I know it's impossible. But why am I still lying to myself?
Even now... I'm still thinking about him.
Taking a deep breath, she stepped out of the lounge and saw the man at the desk.
His noble figure stood tall and proud. Cold and distant.
That wall between them, so sharp, so impenetrable, shattered her fragile hope once again.
"This dress…"
She bit her lip. She didn't want to give up. Not yet.
She wanted to try, just once more.