In the end, he couldn’t bear to see Chi Chi’s lingering hesitation and pain, so he spoke first.
“You’re going to leave with Chen… your brother?”
Though it was a question, his tone made it sound more like a statement.
Cecilia Ye stood there just as she always had—petite and gentle—yet now her eyes held a newfound resolve.
“Yes. I’ll move into the Chase family’s house and take care of Mom.”
He wanted to make her stay, but not a single word would come out.
All he could do was clench the extinguished cigarette tighter in his palm, crushing it into a mess.
“Is it that… no matter what I do, you just don’t want to be with me anymore?”
His words overflowed with defeat, his gaze drifting far away with the wind.
Cecilia Ye had never seen Fu Zhiyue this dejected, this sad. He was always so confident and proud, as if nothing could ever shake him. He was supposed to be invincible, never knocked down.
“I don’t know. My heart is a mess. You treat me so well that I wonder—is it just a whim? You say you like me, you say…”
The word love was too heavy; Cecilia Ye couldn’t bring herself to say it.
“I wonder if you really like me or if it’s just possessiveness. I’ve been by your side for years, so you feel like I belong to you. You don’t like me talking to Julian Jarvis, and you just want to keep me locked by your side.”
“I don’t want to be who I was before, always depending on you for everything. When you ignored me, it felt like the sky turned black and I had no idea what to do.”
“Cecilia,” Fu Zhiyue turned back and looked at her. “It’s not like that…”
What he wanted to say was: I want to be with you, to wait for our baby together, just like before, I really…
He wanted to tell her he loved her; that he’d finally understood—it wasn’t about possession, just love. He just wanted to go back to how things were.
But even those simple words caught in his throat. Cecilia’s words had shattered what little confidence he had left.
He wanted to return to those days, when Cecilia’s heart and eyes held only him.
But for her, those days had been pure torment.
For the first time, he realized just how terrible a person he had been.
How could someone like him talk about love, much less claim it?
Thinking of the baby, Cecilia Ye bit her lip and gently pressed her hand to her softly rounded belly.
“I won’t disappear again. You should think carefully about your own feelings, too. When the baby is born, you can come see him. Whatever happens, you’re still the baby’s father.”
“Cecilia…” Fu Zhiyue stepped forward and grabbed her hand.
Her slender wrist felt so fragile in his grasp, it made his heart ache.
The deep affection in Fu Zhiyue’s eyes frightened her; it felt like her heart was being pierced through, letting in the cold night wind.
“Don’t do this. Let’s both calm down.”
She pulled her hand away, turned, and left the terrace. She still had things to pack for tomorrow’s move—she wouldn’t be coming back here for a long time.
She was reluctant to leave the studio behind, but now that her mother was ill, she knew she needed to be there.
That night, neither of them slept a wink.
Cecilia Ye cocooned herself in her blanket. She was exhausted, but sleep wouldn’t come. Everything that had happened today felt like a dream.
All at once, she had family—a brother, a mother.
She’d rushed to the hospital on a few words from Charles Chase, realizing that deep down, she’d always longed for this—not hatred, but a desperate yearning.
She wanted a home, she wanted kin. And as for Charles Chase—no, for her brother—she trusted him.
So many times, Charles Chase had come to her aid. Why would they need to deceive someone like her, who had nothing?
That afternoon, in the hospital room, she and her brother had agreed: she’d stay at the old Chen house for a while, and after her mother got better, they’d all be together.
Resting her small palm on her belly, she knew that—inevitably—part of her motivation was to escape. Both she and Fu Zhiyue needed time to sort out their tangled hearts.
Everything had changed so quickly. His transformation and closeness had left her totally unprepared, at a loss.
The night was as cold as still water—a soft rain was falling.
The sound, not usually so loud, kept Fu Zhiyue awake all night.
The raindrops tapped against the windowpanes, as if threatening to pierce straight into his eyes.
After a long while, he got up and went downstairs. He opened her door quietly and stood there for a moment before stepping inside.
Raindrops clung to his clothes from the trip down, leaving a faint chill.
By Cecilia’s bed was a white wool rug; he moved her little slippers aside and sat down casually on the carpet, his figure tall and lean.
As he bowed his head, the girl on the bed’s lashes fluttered faintly.
He sat there for a good while before speaking, his words strained and halting.
“Cecilia, you’re right—I’m selfish. I just want to hide you away, keep you by my side forever, never let you leave.”
“You said I can’t tell love from possession. But I can. I just… I’m afraid. Afraid that the moment I let go, you’ll disappear again.”
“These last few days, I keep thinking of when you first arrived at the Fu house, looking like a startled fawn, so anxious and uneasy.”
“Anyone who showed you a little kindness, you’d double it in return. So I became shameless, taking your kindness for granted—enjoying it without giving anything back.”
He let out a rueful laugh. “I never filed for divorce. I can’t bear the thought of you marrying someone else—I think I’d go insane.”
His voice was a little rough, tinged with sorrow. Cecilia Ye pretended to roll over, turning her back to him as a silent tear seeped into her pillow.
“Take care of yourself and the baby, okay? Anyway, I’m sure Charles Chase will look after you well—he’s a good man. With him as your brother, I can rest easy.”
Fu Zhiyue bent one knee, his hand dangling lazily over it, head bowed. Even in the warm yellow lamplight, the lines of his profile looked sharp and cold.
At last, after a long hesitation, he leaned in a little closer. Gently, he reached out—through the comforter—and patted Cecilia’s stomach.
“It’s my first time touching the baby. You have to be good, all right? Don’t make Mommy uncomfortable.”
His hand lingered for just a moment; as if afraid an extra second would make it too hard to let go, he quickly withdrew and slipped from the room.
The moment the door clicked shut, the baby moved inside her. Wide-eyed, Cecilia stared at the ceiling, tears still hanging in her almond-shaped eyes.
The baby… moved?
She pressed her palm to her stomach, disbelief filling her face. For the first time, she felt the baby’s flutter.
A few seconds later, the child moved again—nudging her palm just like a little snail gently stretching its feelers, softly bumping her from within and then curling back.
Her tears spilled one by one. Baby—is it because you know Daddy and Mommy are parting ways…?
Mommy doesn’t want this either, but… Mommy just needs a little more time…