NovelEnglishThey all missed the moment when Fitch's face turned terrifyingly dark. He stood still, shrouded in a sinister aura, as if he was ready to devour
everything around him. Zoey, caught between emotions, didn't know what to say. She was moved, yes, but more than that, she felt uneasy. Deep
down, she wasn't sure about their relationship.
"Henry..."
She couldn't finish her sentence before Fitch turned to the bodyguards nearby and snapped, "Are you dead or something?"
In the next moment, the bodyguards moved forward and took Henry away.
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Zoey was frantic, "Fitch, what are you planning to do with him? We live in a society governed by laws, don't do anything rash!"
Fitch remained silent but forcefully pulled her back and shut the living room door. Only then did Zoey notice the blood soaking through his shirt,
looking quite ghastly. Fitch's lips had turned pale as he sat on the couch.
"What exactly are your men going to do with Henry?" Zoey asked immediately, without inquiring about his injury.
Fitch sat rigidly, feeling his limbs turn cold. He had never imagined, back when Zoey loved him deeply, that one day she would becso indifferent.
Indifferent enough to ignore his injury and worry solely about another man. Indifferent to the point of not caring whether he lived or died.
Suddenly, he found it hard to breathe. It wasn't his first injury, but this time, the pain seemed unbearable. He made a phone call, and soon a doctor
arrived.
Zoey didn't say a word the whole time, only then realizing the severity of Fitch's injury. The sharp edge of a stone had sliced through his shirt and into
his flesh, staining it with blood. As the doctor treated him, Fitch sat shirtless, his mood visibly sour.
Zoey didn't know what to say. She felt a deep-rooted dread and aversion towards this man. It was like her body's instinctual self-defense mechanism,
urging her to stay away from Fitch whenever he got close. She couldn't pinpoint why, but she trusted her instincts.
So far, Fitch's actions were indeed baffling. Like buying the house opposite hers at four times the market price. Claiming he had no ulterior motives,
who would believe that?
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But what was he really after? Could it be, as she suggested, that they were lovers four years ago, and Fitch couldn't move on?
Zoey quickly dismissed the thought. A man of his stature could have any woman he wanted; why would he wait four years for one? He seemed the
type to be heartless.
After the doctor left, it was just the two of them in the living room. Fitch slowly took out a cigarette to smoke. Zoey noticed his lighter and, for some
reason, remembered how those hands used to strike matches. It was beautiful, breathtaking.
As if waking from a dream, she lowered her lashes, thinking her previous thoughts were absurd. Her tone softened, "Fitch, what do you really want?
Just be straight with me, no more beating around the bush."
Fitch exhaled a puff of smoke, his heart aching and then amused at how she kept her distance, as if he was skind of monster. Once, she would
have done anything for him. What did he need to do to bring back the Zoey who loved him?
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