The morning sunlight streaming through the office windows, instead of giving Aanya comfort today, was pricking her. Seeing Huan Jing in front of her, her restlessness slightly eased. With a faint smile, she moved toward Jing, holding her favorite latte in her hand.
"Jing! Where did you suddenly disappear yesterday? I made so many calls..." Aanya said, placing the coffee on her desk.
Jing did not lift her eyes. Her hands were fixed on the files. As Aanya came closer, Jing, without a single word, gathered her files and moved to another desk. Aanya's hand froze in midair. The hot coffee cup now seemed to burn her hand.
A flood of questions surged through Aanya's mind: 'Is this the anger over not going to the party that night? Or the resentment because I left the dinner and went to Zain?' She had no idea that what she thought was a minor misunderstanding had become a massive betrayal in Jing's eyes.
Aanya tried again and held Jing's hand.
"Jing, please talk. If you are upset about that night, forgive me. Circumstances were such that I..."
Jing turned sharply. In her eyes, there was no trace of the warmth of friendship; instead, there was an icy silence.
"Miss Aanya," Jing's voice was so formal that Aanya felt a chill. "This is the office. Keep your 'personal' stories to yourself. I have my work to do, and perhaps you should focus on your 'special' tasks."
She emphasized the word 'special' so sharply that Aanya felt her chest tighten.
From his cabin window above, Zain watched everything. Deep lines of worry appeared on his face. He could see the tears welling up in Aanya's eyes. He knew that Mei Wei had set a fire, and now he would have to intervene.
The sun was beginning to set. The sky had turned a deep red, as if signaling an impending storm. Summoning all her courage, Aanya grabbed Jing and pulled her to the office terrace. Jing offered no resistance; she followed like a lifeless statue.
"Jing! What is all this? Why did you block my phone? Are you doing this just because of a party?" Aanya's voice trembled.
Huan Jing's silence finally broke. A wave of hatred surged in her eyes, and before Aanya could say anything further—'Smack!'
The sound of the slap echoed across the empty terrace. Aanya's head tilted to the side. A burning sensation appeared on her cheek, and darkness flashed in her eyes. She touched her cheek, trembling.
"Jing… you…?"
"Yes!" Jing shouted, her voice choked. "And that is nothing. 'Mrs. Yan'… that is your name now, right? You ask me why I blocked you? You kept me in the dark, Aanya! You are living in that palace as Zain Yan's 'contract wife' while pretending to be poor in front of me?"
Jing shook her. "Mei Wei showed me everything—that contract, those photos. You are bought, Aanya! You are no longer the friend I knew. You are just a deal."
Aanya was left with nothing to say. Her world was shattering.
"Jing, listen… I was trapped in Zain's plan, I was forced…"
"Forced?" Jing looked at her with contempt. "Or did you just start enjoying the luxury and comfort? I refuse to be part of your game. From today, we are strangers."
As Jing reached the ground, she could no longer hold back her tears. At that moment, Mei Wei emerged from the shadows and placed a hand on her shoulder.
"Do not grieve, Jing. You stood for the truth. Let her stay with her 'husband'; she deserves nothing else."
Jing's mind was heavy, but Mei Wei's words poured salt on her wounds, reigniting her anger.
Footsteps echoed on the terrace. Zain Yan appeared. He saw Aanya sitting on the floor, completely broken. As he reached out to support her, Aanya recoiled.
"Don't come near!" Her voice was venomous. "Is what Jing said true? Am I just a 'deal'? Did you marry me only to use me for your needs?"
Zain remained silent. His deep, enigmatic eyes read Aanya's face, yet his lips were sealed. He could not reveal the truth—that this marriage was part of revenge and old enmity.
"Speak, Zain! Is my worth only a one-year contract?"
Zain exhaled coldly. "Aanya, the circumstances were complicated. Jing does not know everything."
"Call it cunning!" Aanya said bitterly. "You chose me because I had nothing to lose. You took away my friendship, my dignity. On paper I may be your wife, but in my heart, only hatred remains for you."
Aanya pushed him aside and ran.
That night, the villa was shrouded in an unusual silence. Aanya threw herself into work. She cleaned obsessively, folded clothes, polished the kitchen—anything to distract her mind from the echo of Jing's slap.
Finally, exhausted, she collapsed onto the sofa and turned on the TV. A Chinese drama played, in which the hero sacrifices his life for his beloved. As the hero died on screen, Aanya's restraint broke. She curled up on the sofa and sobbed uncontrollably.
She was not crying for the fictional hero, but for her dying friendship and her lost identity.The living room was dimly lit. Anaya sat on the sofa wrapped in a thick blanket, as if she wanted to protect herself from the bitterness of the outside world. The hero of the drama playing on TV had died, but Anaya's gaze remained fixed. The lenses of her glasses were blurred with tears, making it impossible for her to see even the TV screen clearly.
She removed her glasses and pulled the blanket up to her face. The sorrow from the drama was just an excuse; in reality, she was submerged in memories that had now turned into poison.
Anaya's inner thought (Flashback): "She remembered that day at school when Jing had saved half her pocket money to buy Anaya her favorite pen… and those nights in college when they shared the same bed, weaving dreams of the future. Jing had always said—'Anaya, no matter how the world changes, we will never be apart.'"
Anaya's sobs remained muffled within the blanket. She thought to herself—"Jing, I have lost you… all because of a lie that I had believed to be true."
On the other side, Huan Jing sat in her small, dark room. She closed her eyes and remembered Anaya's face when she had clung to Jing, terrified of failing school. Jing touched her cheek where Anaya had slapped her. The pain wasn't on the cheek—it was in the trust that had now been broken.
In anger, she picked up an old college photo from her desk. In the photo, they were both laughing.
Huan Jing: (in a trembling voice) "You abandoned me, Anaya… you placed that 'contract' above all the years we shared."
She turned the photo over, but her tears soaked her T-shirt. Mei Wei's words echoed in her mind, now feeling like the ultimate truth.
Outside, light rain had begun. Below Jing's house, a shadow stood by the roadside—it was Qian. He was looking up at the faint light of Jing's window. His heart ached for her, but he didn't have the courage to go up.
Qian leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. He remembered Jing's laughter from their first coffee date.
Qian's inner thought: "Jing… I know you're breaking inside. I wish I could tell you that my love was never a command. I wish I could shield you from that poisonous shadow."
He took a small bracelet from inside his wet coat, brought for Jing, and placed it by a stone under the window, as if leaving his feelings there.
In the villa, Zain stood at his room's door. He could see Anaya below, curled up under the blanket like an abandoned bird. He watched her remove her glasses and wipe her eyes.
Zain's hand rested on the door handle. His mind told him to go down and hold her in his arms, to tell her she was not a burden—but his father's words, "She is the niece of the enemy," shackled his steps.
He closed his eyes tightly. On one side was his vengeance; on the other, this fragile girl, whom he wanted to hate but now perhaps wanted to protect.
The blue light of the TV still danced on Anaya's pale face. The drama had ended, but her sobs had now turned into a tired sleep. She had curled up on the sofa like a small ball, the blanket half fallen to the floor, and her glasses, completely blurred by tears, dangling from her ear.
Zain slowly descended the stairs and approached her. The only sound in the villa was the soft echo of his footsteps. He turned off the TV, plunging the room into a heavy silence.
Zain's inner thought: "So stubborn… what will you gain by punishing yourself like this? Your friend left you, yet you still hold onto her memories."
Zain bent down gently. Carefully, he removed the dangling glasses from Anaya's face. Using the hem of his silk shirt, he wiped the lenses with the utmost delicacy, as if cleaning a precious gem.
He slipped his strong arms under her and lifted her into his embrace. Anaya's weight meant nothing to Zain, but her sorrow felt heavy against his chest. As he climbed the stairs, Anaya unknowingly rested her head on his shoulder. Zain's body stiffened for a moment, then relaxed.
He carried her to her room and laid her comfortably on the velvet bed. He pulled the blanket up to her neck to keep her warm. The room's AC was set very low, and he carefully adjusted it to 24°C. He didn't want her, weakened from crying, to fall ill.
He sat by the edge of the bed, watching her innocent face in the darkness.
Zain: (whispering) "Does it hurt you so much because your friend left? How can you be so fragile, Anaya? A simple girl has broken you from the inside…"
He placed his hand gently on her forehead, where a faint crease had formed.
Zain's promise: "I vow… I will bring you and Huan Jing together again. Even if I have to risk my reputation or fight the whole world. I want to see you smiling again."
As Zain was about to rise, Anaya stirred slightly in her sleep. A fresh tear escaped the corner of her closed eye and soaked into the pillow. Her lips trembled, and a muffled voice came out.
Anaya: (muttering in her sleep) "Jing… please… forgive me… believe me… Jing…"
Hearing this, Zain's heart felt as if it had been crushed in a fist. He realized that for Anaya, their friendship was not merely a relationship—it was part of her soul. He forgot all about his hatred and revenge. In that moment, he was just a husband who wanted to gather his wife's broken world.
He gently kissed her forehead—a kiss with no desire, only a promise of protection.