The mansion was quiet, the storm of the boardroom battle finally giving way to stillness. Li Na sat in the study, the faint glow of the lamp washing over her as she traced her fingers across the papers still scattered on the desk.
Every choice, every defense, every word she had spoken earlier echoed inside her. She hadn't done it for appearances. She hadn't done it for survival. She had done it because when the world pointed its knives at him, she could not stand aside.
The door opened softly, and Yen Rui entered. He looked exhausted, his tie loosened, his eyes shadowed from sleepless nights. Yet when he saw her there, he paused, as if the sight of her steadied him more than any victory could.
"You should rest," he said, his voice rough from hours of speaking.
"So should you," she replied, rising to meet him.
For a moment, they stood in silence, only a few feet apart, the weight of everything they had endured pressing between them.
"I've spent years believing marriage was nothing more than a contract," Yen Rui said finally, his tone low, steady. "Something useful. Practical. Safe. But today…" He broke off, his gaze locked on hers. "Today you proved me wrong."
Her chest tightened, her breath uneven. "And you… you taught me that even when I tried to keep my heart guarded, it betrayed me the moment you stood beside me."
The words slipped out before she could stop them, raw and frighteningly true.
He stepped closer, every movement deliberate, his presence wrapping around her like gravity. "Then stop guarding it," he whispered.
Her throat ached, her resolve crumbling beneath the weight of everything unspoken. "Yen Rui"
But before she could finish, his lips were on hers. This time there was no hesitation, no rules to shatter, no boundaries left to hide behind. The kiss was fierce, consuming, unrelenting a declaration, not a test.
Her hands rose, clutching his shirt as if she could anchor herself in the storm of him. His arms closed around her, pulling her into the warmth she had feared for so long.
When they finally broke apart, her forehead rested against his, her breath trembling.
"This wasn't supposed to happen," she whispered.
"And yet it did," he murmured, his thumb brushing her cheek. "Not because of ink. Not because of rules. Because it was always going to."
In that moment, the paper that had bound them ceased to matter. The whispers outside ceased to matter. For the first time, their marriage was no longer a shield or a trap, it was a choice.
A choice neither of them wanted to undo.