A Season Without Her

Chapter 5 The Final Break

A flicker of irritation crossed Ryan's face, but it vanished almost instantly. He adjusted his clothes with composure and returned to the press conference as if nothing had happened.

Halfway home in the taxi, Cynthia suddenly realized she had left her bag behind. Her asthma inhaler was inside, along with a keepsake her mother had left her. She had no choice but to go back.

When she reached the parking lot, soft, suggestive sounds drifted from a black Cayenne parked nearby. Her heart dropped.

It was Ryan's car.

Through the slightly lowered window, Chloe's voice floated out, breathless and teasing.

"Let go… stop…"

"Who was that man? I'm angry."

"You already have a fiancée. Why do you care who that man is? I hate you."

"Stop pretending. Your body says otherwise."

Chloe's resistance sounded half-hearted.

"Aren't you afraid your fiancée might see us?"

Ryan did not answer. The only response was the faint rocking of the car.

Chloe's protests soon dissolved into soft moans.

Cynthia stood rooted to the ground, trembling. Tears blurred her vision, yet none fell. She quietly stopped the recording on her phone, turned around, and walked away without looking back.

When she returned home, she paused at the doorway and took in the house she had once decorated with such care. Every corner held a memory, and each memory cut into her like a blade.

"You can arrange it however you like."

She had once believed those words were indulgent.

Now she understood they had simply meant indifference.

One by one, she began throwing things away. The gifts she had carefully chosen for him. The souvenirs Ryan had brought back from his trips. Everything she had treasured.

By the time she finished, it felt as though she had erased the evidence of their years together.

Late that night, Ryan finally returned from the press conference. He carried a flushed Chloe in his arms.

"Cynthia, Chloe drank too much and isn't feeling well. Could you…"

He seemed prepared for an argument.

Instead, Cynthia only gave a faint nod.

"Okay."

A brief look of surprise crossed his face. Without another word, he carried Chloe upstairs and into the bridal bedroom Cynthia had decorated herself. Soon afterward, he went downstairs to prepare fruit and hangover soup.

It was the first time Cynthia had ever seen Ryan cook. His movements were awkward yet careful, as if he feared making a mistake. Before long, a bowl of steaming soup sat on the counter.

Cynthia stood nearby in silence. Watching him like this, she suddenly saw her former self reflected in his figure—standing in the same kitchen, burning her hands again and again while cooking for him.

Ryan noticed her gaze. For a moment, it seemed he wanted to say something. In the end, he said nothing.

The silence said enough.

In the middle of the night, raised voices woke Cynthia. She stepped out and saw Ryan and Chloe arguing near the study by the staircase.

"I just wanted to collect firsthand material. What did I do wrong?"

"Do you even understand how dangerous those animals are? What if something had happened to you?"

"I don't need your protection."

"Chloe."

Anger. Anxiety. Concern.

For the first time, Cynthia saw such intense emotion on Ryan's face. It was as if he only truly came alive in front of Chloe.

As she stood there, a painful realization settled over her. Except for that one night, Ryan had never shown her any emotion at all. Not happiness. Not anger. Not even impatience.

He had always said it was simply his personality.

"If you don't like it, don't force yourself."

Lost in those memories, Cynthia failed to notice Chloe storming out of the room.

Chloe stopped when she saw her. A cold smile curved her lips. Before Cynthia could react, Chloe shoved her hard.

Cynthia lost her balance and fell down the staircase.