He immediately reached out and rolled all the car windows up, then switched the air conditioner completely off.
Inside the car, only the soft hum of the engine and Zain's heavy breathing could be heard.
He gripped the steering wheel tightly; his knuckles had turned white. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, but his voice carried authority mixed with restrained worry.
Zain:
"You know very well how easily you catch a cold. Then why did you sit by that lake, in that freezing wind, for hours? What if something had happened to you?"
His tone was firm, but it was not born out of anger—it came from the fear he had felt over the past few hours.
Anya continued to stare outside the window, offering no response. She pulled Zain's coat tighter around herself.
She couldn't understand why the same man who had been standing in the office holding another woman's hand now seemed so concerned about her health.
Zain (in his mind):
"Why won't you answer? Your silence hurts me more than the cold of that lake, Anya."
Holding the steering wheel with one hand, he ran the other through his hair in agitation. He glanced at Anya, who was deliberately avoiding his gaze.
Zain (in a heavy voice):
"Anya, I'm asking you something. Why was your phone turned off? Do you have any idea what went through my mind when your number kept coming up as 'unreachable'?"
Now his voice held not authority, but fracture.
The warmth inside the car and the familiar scent of Zain's coat slowly pulled Anya into sleep. Sneezing intermittently, her eyelids grew heavy, and her head leaned against the window glass.
Zain stopped the car at a red light and gently looked at her.
Her innocent face appeared even softer in sleep, yet her lashes were still weighed down by the tears she must have shed by the lake.
Zain's Touch — Anya's Reaction
A sharp ache rose in Zain's chest. Very slowly, he lifted his hand to move the strands of hair that had fallen across her face.
The moment his fingers brushed against her velvet-soft skin, a rare smile touched his lips.
But as soon as Anya sensed the touch, a shiver ran through her sleeping body. Unconsciously, she turned her face away and shifted slightly—away from Zain's hand.
Zain's Inner Collapse
His hand froze midair.
That small distance she had created in her sleep pierced his chest like a dagger.
It hurt—deeply.
He realized that Anya was pushing him away not only while awake, but even in her dreams… from her very soul.
He withdrew his hand and clenched his fist.
Zain (in his mind):
"Have I hurt you so deeply that even in your sleep you try to escape my shadow?
Anya… I wanted to give you every happiness in the world, yet it seems I've become your greatest pain."
The light turned green. Zain drove on, but his heart remained stuck in that single moment of withdrawal.
He did not dare to touch her again for the rest of the journey.
Arrival at the Villa
The car stopped at the villa porch.
With utmost care, Zain lifted Anya into his arms, as if she were a fragile glass sculpture. He didn't want to wake her.
He laid her gently on the large, comfortable sofa in the living room and once again draped his coat—imbued with his scent—securely over her.
Leaving Anya in deep sleep, Zain went to take a shower.
When he returned some time later, his hair was wet, and dressed in a black casual T-shirt and pants, he no longer looked like the arrogant Emperor—just a worried, ordinary man.
He had already ordered Anya's favorite food from her preferred restaurant. He arranged the plates neatly on the dining table and kept the soup warm so it would soothe her cold.
Anya Wakes Up
When Anya opened her eyes, she felt heaviness in her body. She realized she was lying on the sofa, covered with Zain's coat.
The house was filled with the aroma of soup and her favorite dishes.
Just then, Zain emerged from the kitchen. His appearance had changed, and there was a strange calm on his face.
Zain (gently):
"You're awake? I thought you wouldn't wake up until morning."
Anya tried to sit up; she still felt weak. She looked at Zain—this domestic version of him was something she rarely saw.
Anya:
"How did I end up here… on the sofa?"
Zain:
"You fell asleep in the car. I thought you needed rest more than anything, so I didn't disturb you. Your sneezing has reduced, but you still need proper rest."
He gestured toward the table.
Zain:
"I ordered your favorite food. Come eat quietly before it gets cold.
And yes—I also got your medicine. No excuses."
Anya kept looking at him. The same question lingered in her eyes—
How could the man who hurt her so deeply remember her likes and dislikes with such precision?
Anya:
"Zain… why are you doing all this? Are you trying to reduce the guilt of your mistake?"
Zain's hands paused on the table. He looked at her—there was no anger in his eyes now, only depth.
Zain:
"Call it guilt or my right—just know this: until you recover, I'm not going anywhere."
At the Dining Table
Candlelight softly illuminated Zain's face, making the depth in his eyes more visible. Anya lifted the soup spoon, but her mind was elsewhere.
Breaking the silence, Zain spoke heavily, looking at his plate.
Zain:
"Mei Wei… she was forcing herself close to me.
What you thought was me holding her hand was actually me trying to push her away."
He raised his eyes and looked straight at Anya. There was helplessness in his voice.
Zain:
"I won't offer explanations.
But what you saw… wasn't the truth."
Anya blinked.
The desperation and sincerity in Zain's eyes dissolved her doubt, but the pain in her heart remained. She lowered her head slowly.
Anya (softly):
"I believe you. There's no need to bring her here."
Zain tried to breathe in relief—
but her next words turned him to stone.
Anya:
"But Zain… I can't forgive you so easily.
Even if we ignore that misunderstanding, what about those two months?
Those sixty days when you tormented me every moment?
That pain… that fear… how can it disappear so quickly?"
Zain's hands, which were about to lift the soup bowl, froze midair. His fingers trembled as he slowly placed it back on the table.
Anya pushed her chair back and stood. Every tear she had shed alone over the past two months shimmered in her eyes.
Anya:
"Until you realize the mistakes you deliberately made, there will be no place for you in my heart.
You treated me like nothing more than a pawn, Zain."
Zain wanted to speak, but something lodged in his throat. His face fell. He rose from his seat—
Just then, Anya's phone vibrated.
Kian.
As she answered the call, her face drained of color.
Anya (trembling):
"What? Huan Jing is leaving the city? Now?
No… I can't let her leave like this!"
She sprang up and rushed toward the door. Her weakness vanished, replaced by fear.
But Zain was faster.
He caught her hand and seated her back on the sofa.
Anya (struggling):
"Zain, let go! I have to go—my friend is leaving!"
Zain said nothing. His face was stone.
He quickly went inside and returned with Anya's shoes. Without hesitation, the powerful "Emperor" sat down on the floor before her.
Anya froze as he adjusted her socks with his own hands and began putting her shoes on.
She tried to pull her foot back.
"I can do it myself, Zain!"
He firmly held her ankle, tying the laces as he looked up. There was an unyielding stubbornness in his eyes.
After finishing, he stood and brought a heavy woolen coat and a scarf.
He wrapped the coat around Anya. She protested, waving her hands.
"Zain, I'm feeling warm—I don't need this!"
He ignored her.
He wrapped the scarf twice around her neck and tightened it. Then he held her shoulders and pulled her toward him.
Zain (deep, resolute):
"There's a storm-like cold outside.
In this condition, you're not going anywhere alone.
I'll take you—and you will not remove this scarf.
Understood?"
He gripped her hand so firmly that Anya knew arguing was useless.
Almost dragging her along, Zain took her outside—
Anya's rapid breathing and the echo of Zain's shoes against the floor cutting through the night's silence.