Chapter 50 – The Shattered Truth
The dining hall fell into a silence so heavy it could choke. The clink of cutlery had long stopped, the plates untouched, and yet the air itself seemed to tremble with the weight of Celia's announcement.
Andre's calm voice broke through at last, low and steady, though his eyes glinted like sharpened blades.
"What do you mean by that, Mom?"
Celia's fingers curled around her wine glass, knuckles whitening. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her heart pounded as though trying to escape her chest. How could she possibly explain this to her son—that everything he had believed, everything he had grown up around for the past three years, was a carefully constructed lie?
Her throat locked, and all she could do was look at him anxiously, praying for words that refused to form.
Across from her, Yichen sat rigid, composed in appearance but tense beneath the surface. His posture gave nothing away, but inside, his chest was wound tight with a knot of dread. He had been preparing himself for this inevitable moment, yet now that it had come, the words stuck in his throat like barbed wire.
Andre's gaze flickered between them, confusion shadowing his handsome features. His heart hammered in disbelief. Divorce? His mom and Yichen?
The thought cracked through him like thunder. Why now? What happened? His mind twisted itself in circles. Even if no one knew, even if it was his own forbidden secret, he had always harbored a wild, impossible desire for Yichen. A fantasy never spoken aloud, not even to himself in clear words. But for them to announce separation at this moment—just after Yichen had returned—it burned his insides with suspicion.
Did he meet someone else? Is that why? Did he find someone he loves?
The thought struck like lightning. And then came the most unbearable possibility. A man?
His silver eyes darkened, sharp with a rage that clawed its way up from his chest. How dare you, Yichen? His mind screamed it though his lips pressed shut, showing only the faintest flicker of coldness in his expression.
Celia shifted uneasily, her voice trembling as she tried to soothe the tension threatening to shatter the table in two. "Ani… Mom has something to tell you."
But Andre wasn't listening to her softness. His voice cut sharper this time, though he still spoke with that unnerving calm.
"Mom, what do you mean you two are getting a divorce? Why all of a sudden?"
Her eyes flickered with guilt. "Yes, Andre… we are separating. Not… divorcing."
He frowned. "I don't understand what you're trying to say. Aren't they the same?"
"…I… we…" Celia's words faltered again.
"Let me explain," Yichen's deep voice interrupted, smooth and calm, though inside he was taut as steel ready to snap. He cut across Celia's stumbling confession, sparing her yet also damning himself.
She looked at him with a mixture of relief and dread, silently grateful yet terrified of what his explanation would do.
Yichen turned toward Andre, his dark eyes steady, his tone even. "Andre, your mother and I were never married."
The world seemed to tilt.
Andre froze. His chair felt like ice beneath him. He didn't just say that. I didn't hear him right.
But Yichen continued, his words sharp enough to cleave the air.
"It may sound unbelievable, but it's the truth. Your mother and I signed a contract years ago—an arrangement. We lived together, played the part of husband and wife, but it was never real. We lied to you, and for that I know it is deeply unfair. You left your home, came here, started over, all under the weight of a deception. I can only ask for your forgiveness. But you should know… it was never your mother's fault. It was mine."
On the surface, Yichen spoke with unshakable composure, his voice calm and unwavering. But his heart thundered mercilessly in his chest. He hated himself for sounding detached when every fiber of him was screaming apology, regret, fear. He was afraid of the young man's silence, afraid of the rift this revelation would carve, afraid of the cold distance in those silver eyes.
Andre stared at him, face unreadable, the mask of stillness carved to perfection. Inside, though, everything crashed. Not married? A contract? All a lie?
The silence stretched unbearably. Yichen regretted ever speaking. Celia's breath came in small, shallow gasps.
Finally, Andre's voice sliced through. "Mom. Is this true?"
Celia's lips trembled. "Ani, I…"
"Is this true?" His tone rose, cold and commanding, his silver eyes glinting as they fixed on her with piercing clarity.
She looked into those eyes—the same eyes as hers, but colder, sharper. A son's gaze that demanded truth without mercy. Her hands shook.
Before she could answer, Yichen interjected, desperate. "Don't blame your mother, Andre. It was all my doing. My requirements. She only followed what I asked. If you're angry, be angry with me, not her."
Andre's head snapped toward him, voice like ice. "I wasn't speaking to you, Mr. Zhen Yichen. Stay out of this. I'm asking my mother."
The words cut deeper than a knife. For reasons he dared not explore, Yichen's chest tightened painfully. He had heard scorn before, but coming from this young man, it rattled something deep within him.
Celia swallowed, tears burning her eyes. She forced herself to face her son and whispered, "Yes."
The single word detonated like an explosion in the room.
Andre's chair scraped against the polished floor as he rose without another word. He walked calmly, almost mechanically, toward the door.
"Ani—Ani, wait!" Celia's voice cracked, desperate, panicked. "Ani!"
But he didn't turn. Didn't even glance back. His tall figure vanished through the entrance, leaving silence in his wake.
Celia broke. Tears streamed down her face as she turned helplessly to Yichen. "Please, Yichen… go after him. It's late. He shouldn't be alone out there. He won't listen to me now—he's so hurt, so angry, and I… I don't blame him. It's my fault. I've failed him." Her voice fractured as sobs overtook her. "Please, go to him. My Ani needs someone, even if it isn't me. Please."
Yichen stood frozen, her words digging into his chest. Watching her cry twisted something unbearable inside him. It was his selfishness, his choice, that had caused this storm between mother and son.
But more than that, his thoughts returned again and again to the boy who had walked out with such rigid shoulders, his face expressionless but his eyes betraying a flash of pain. Yichen had seen it—the flicker of betrayal, the tremor of hurt beneath the mask.
His fingertips still tingled from that image, trembling faintly against his palm.
Yes, Celia had begged him. But even without her words, he already knew—he had to go. The pull in his chest was undeniable. The thought of Andre wandering alone, angry and wounded, gnawed at him like fire under his ribs.
He didn't know why it mattered this much. Didn't want to examine the reasons. All he knew was one thing, clear and sharp as the beat of his heart.
He had to be there. Beside him.
No matter what.