Jiang Xinyue braced her shoulder beneath his arm, her body trembling under his weight. He was tall, broad, and solid, but she didn't complain. Every step she took with him leaning on her felt precious.
Her lips curved softly, almost proudly. Because tonight, he had no one but her. She tightened her grip, half-dragging, half-supporting him as they moved toward the elevator.
Each step was slow, difficult, and yet her lips wouldn't stop curving upward. She didn't mind the struggle. She didn't mind her aching arms. To her, this difficulty was happiness.
Because she was the one holding him.
Not anyone else.
The elevator doors slid open with a soft chime. She guided him inside, pressing his back gently against the wall so he wouldn't fall. His brows knitted faintly as if rejecting even the space that contained her, and that tiny flinch pierced straight through her chest.
