A week later.

The jasmine tea had long gone cold, but Lirong didn’t reach for it. Her hands lay idle on her lap, her posture straight yet strangely fragile, like porcelain propped upright on a windy ledge.

Across from her, her best friend, Kalae Stacy stirred a sugar cube into her cup with delicate clinks, her gaze unwavering as she watched Lirong carefully.

"You don’t have to pretend with me," Kalae said gently, placing the spoon down, her eyes softening with concern. "I know you’re not okay. You lost your baby. I know you wanted it so much."

Lirong offered a weak smile, her eyes trailing toward the garden window of the teahouse. Zhang Feifei, her daughter was chasing bubbles outside, her laughter was light and carefree. The sight twisted something deep within her.

"I’m functioning, at least for Feifei. I can't break down, Kal," Lirong murmured, her voice a mere whisper against the backdrop of laughter.

"Functioning isn’t the same as healing. You need time away, to be nourished and cherished and touched properly by a man!" Kalae pressed, her tone insistent yet gentle.

Lirong replied quietly, the finality in her voice echoing in the small space between them. "But it’s all I have right now... just functioning."

Kalae reached across the table, her hand enveloping Lirong’s in a comforting grip. "He still hasn’t come home? I don’t get it."

"No." Lirong’s fingers curled slightly, a reflexive gesture of self-protection. "I’m sure he’ll be back soon."

But even as the words left her lips, part of her was lying. Some stupid, stubborn thread inside her still expected him, as she always did.

After her time with Kalae, Lirong headed back into the living room, handing her coat to the maid and slipping out of her low heels with aching feet.

"Mrs. Zhang?" one of the staff called from the hallway. "Your husband has returned. He’s in the master suite."

Returned?

The word hung in the air like smoke, thick and heavy, stealing her breath. Lirong stood frozen for several seconds, her heart thudding against her ribs as dread curled tight in her stomach. Then, slowly, she climbed the stairs and each step felt heavier than the last.

Her fingers hovered over the handle. Just touching the cool brass made her chest tighten. With a breath she didn’t realize she was holding, she pushed it open.

Dexing stood in front of the mirror, slipping cufflinks into a crisp white shirt. His tie hung loose over his shoulder, and his hair was still damp from a shower.

He looked like something carved from ice and need. A god in motion. Tall, broad, and impossibly built at 6’2”. His shoulders were wide enough to make her feel small and protected. His arms, thick and roped with muscle, strained beneath the fine cotton. The veins along his forearms were a roadmap she’d traced too many times in the dark.

His skin was nearly porcelain, the color of moonlight over marble, and his hands... God, those large, calloused palms had the cruel habit of being impossibly gentle when they roamed her body. As if they were made for nothing else but to hold her down and unravel her piece by piece.

His thick neck and long, powerful legs made him look like he could pin her without trying and too many times, he had. Chiselled cheekbones gave edge to his expression, but it was the eyes. Those deep, obsidian-black eyes that made her knees weaken. They were endless.

His black hair, still damp, curled slightly at the edges and messy enough that she ached to drag her fingers through it, to pull him in for a kiss she shouldn’t want. And his lips full, it curved with a smirk that always came when he knew exactly what he was doing to her. Even his ears, just slightly too large, gave him a boyish edge… until he turned that predator’s gaze on her. Then she felt the heat pulse low in her belly all over again.

For a moment, she just stared at him, stunned by the ache of wanting him and the hurt of remembering why she shouldn’t. Did she hate him? Or need to touch him?

His eyes locked on hers, and that single look sent a jolt straight through her. "Sweetheart."

The name on his lips wasn’t gentle. It was wrecking, like a prayer twisted into a curse. Dexing didn’t speak often, but when he did, his voice was like dark velvet, slipping over her skin and stirring every buried part of her. But his touch? That was worse.

When he touched her, she forgot her name.

In three strides, he was in front of her. He grabbed her face, kissed her hard, and she gasped, stunned and windless. His scent was clean cedar and something darker, uniquely him washed over her like a warm tide, and her knees threatened to buckle.

"I’ve missed you," he breathed against her lips, his voice thick with need. "God, I’ve missed you."

"Dexing…" Her voice cracked, brittle and soft. She pressed her hands to his chest, caught in the ache of indecision either to push him away or pull him closer. "I need to tell you something…"

"Me too," he said with a smile that lit up his face.

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. When he opened it, the light caught a flawless diamond, a breathtaking spark that dazzled her senses.

"For your collection," he said softly, his voice laced with sincerity. "It’s Ruby."

Lirong’s fingers trembled as she took it, the diamond sparkling against her palm. For a breath, she felt seen again. Only Dexing knew how much she loved collecting diamonds. Half of her collection was made by him.

But then Dexing turned back to the mirror, reaching for his tie, and the moment slipped away like sand through her fingers.

"I’m leaving tonight," he said casually, as if announcing a dinner reservation. "Spain. The vineyard acquisition finally came through."

The room tilted, her breath hitching. "You’re what?"

"Barcelona. I’ll only be gone a few weeks."

"A few weeks?" Lirong stepped back, disbelief washing over her. "You’re leaving again?"

Dexing paused, turning to face her, his expression shifting. "I’m sorry, sweetheart. I have to be there in person... I promise to make it up to you."

"You have to be there now?" Her voice rose, cracking almost exposing her frustration. "Why now?"

"Oh, my grumpy bear. Feifei?"

"She’s fine," Lirong replied, her tone icy, her heart constricting. She looked down at the diamond still resting in her palm.

She carefully placed the box back on the dresser, as if even that small gem had become too much to bear.

"You can go to Spain. FeiFei would be fine. We would be fine," Lirong said, her voice steady, searching his eyes for something. Anything.

Dexing stared at her, picking up his phone. "Nicole, is the helicopter here?"

He tilted his head slightly, listening to the voice on the other end of the line. His expression sobered.

"Alright. I’ll be down in a minute," he said, ending the call.

He turned back to Lirong, his voice suddenly soft. "I need to go."

She didn’t respond. She stood there, still as stone, her heart racing in her chest. Dexing walked to her again, kissing her gently this time, cradling her face in both hands.

"I love you," he whispered, his lips brushing against her forehead, lingering there as if trying to imprint his warmth onto her skin.

"And another for Feifei. I love her so much," he added, placing a kiss to her cheek as if that counted as a kiss to Feifei.

Then he was gone. Just like that. As if nothing had happened. As if her world hadn’t bled out onto white sheets just days ago. The door clicked shut behind him.

Lirong didn’t move until the cold emptiness settled over the house. The helicopter was gone. He was gone.

She slowly sank into the recliner by the window, the diamond box still opened on the dresser. Her eyes burned, but no tears came. Instead, she reached for the phone, her heart bittered.

"Melody," she said when the call connected, her voice calm yet cracking. "I need you to draft divorce papers."

There was a pause on the other end, then a soft voice. "Mrs. Zhang?"

"Send it to Dexing once it’s ready. I want half his property, and I’m taking Feifei with me," Lirong added, her tone firm.

"Are… are you sure?"

Lirong stared out the window at the empty garden, the chill of the evening creeping in. "Do as you’re told, Mel. No questions."