Chapter 5 :His Uncontrollable Rage
988 Words
Liora stares at those words, stares at them for a very long time.
Her fingers hover over the keyboard, wants to type something. An explanation? An apology? Like The usual, I'm sorry, it's my fault, I didn't mean to?
No, the word cuts through her like a blade, it’s done apologizing for existing in his sightline.
She types: "I left because I wanted to, Stella's feelings are not my problem."
Her thumb hovers over send, Liora’s heart pounds. This is not the Liora of three years ago, not even the Liora of last week,she never did like that.
The reply comes almost instantly. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Liora flips the phone facedown on the table, she doesn't wait for his response. He's had three years of her waiting, tonight let him wait for once.
Then Liora picks up her coffee, takes small, slow sips.
It tastes bitter.
Her heart tastes bitterer,but maybe there's something else underneath the bitterness now.
Outside, the rain is tapering off. The streetlamps catch the wet pavement, making it gleam like a floor full of shattered stars.
Liora finishes the last sip, pays her bill, and walks out.
The rain has stopped.
The air is thick with the smell of wet soil and green things. At the edge of the sky, there's a faint glow, like someone struck a match somewhere in the darkness.
Rays's car is still parked at the curb. He's leaning against the driver's door, a cup of coffee in his hand, at the sound of her footsteps, he turns.
"Liora, the rain stopped."
She's surprised. Because she thought he'd left. "You're still here?"
Rays rubs the back of his head, almost sheepish. "I did leave, actually. And got a few hundred meters down the road, but then I kept thinking, I couldn't just leave you here alone, so I came back, thought I'd at least take you home."
Something moves inside Liora's chest, just a small movement, like the first c***k forming in a sheet of ice.
A stranger, who met him just a few hours ago, by all logic, Liora should be wary, keep her distance.
But tonight, she doesn't want to doubt. She just wants to believe, for once, that someone's kindness is exactly what it looks like.
Liora nods. "Thank you for taking care of me tonight."
The car was traveling on the highway, pulls up outside the villa just before two in the morning.
Liora says goodbye to Rays.
Then she walks inside.
The living room lights are still on.
Her heartbeat jumps, just half a beat.
She pushes the door open—
Dorian is on the sofa, file in hand, his brow is furrowed tight. At the sound of the door, he looks up, his gaze lands on her.
The black dress is a wreck now. The hem is caked with mud, she's barefoot, her feet red and raw, a thin line of blood crusted where the skin broke, her hair is half-damp and plastered to her face, looks like something dragged out of a river.
Dorian's eyes sweep over her from head to toe.
Then he frowns deeper.
"Where did you go?"
"I came back a little late—"
"Do you have any idea how important tonight's gala was?" He cuts her off, his voice tight, fury bleeding through the cracks. "Chairman Tang of Tang Group asked about you specifically, do you know what I told him? —that you weren't feeling well. Is that what you call standing in the rain like a drowned animal?"
Liora's mouth opens, the old response is right there, For the first time, Loria found herself unwilling to tell the truth when facing Dorian.
“I met a friend.”
"A friend?" Dorian lets out a short, cold laugh."Liora, if you're going to lie to me, at least make it believable. What friends do you have? Winnie was at the gala, other than her—who else is there?"
It's like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over Dorian’s head.
But this time, she doesn't let it freeze her, she throws it back.
"Right. I left because Stella insulted my dress in public, and you didn't say a word to stop her. So yes, I went and stood in the rain, it felt smarter than standing in that ballroom watching my husband ignore me."
Dorian's face hardens, Liora continues, she doesn't drop his gaze. "Did you even notice I was gone? Or did she have to tell you?"
"You're right, I don't have many friends. Do you know why? Because being your wife means never showing my face frequently, means never building my own life."
Dorian's jaw tightens. "This was your own choice from the start, no one forced you."
"Choice?" Liora laughs, the sound surprises her. "You want to talk about choice? It should being introduced as your wife, is not finding out your husband brought another woman to a gala from your driver."
She stops, didn’t want to let her voice c***k with tears give her away, it would lay bare all her vulnerability.
"Enough, I don't want to hear your explanations." He slaps the file onto the coffee table, and stands up, He towers over her, looks down at her like an employee who's failed a performance review.
"Liora, do you realize, every single time you do something like this, you just make more trouble for me?"
Make trouble.
Sharper than anything anyone said to her tonight.
All her love, her waiting, quiet endurance. The tears Liora swallowed in the dark. The dignity she ground into dust, the wounds she stitched up again and again just to have them torn open.
In Dorian eyes, all of it means nothing.
Just "trouble."
The old Liora would apologize, I didn't do well. It's my fault, she can feel the words right there, waiting on her tongue.
But she swallows them. "No."
Dorian blinks. "What?"
- Writer
