When Yibo reached his bedroom, he lay down without even glancing at where his phone was.
Falling asleep wasn't difficult for him. He slept deeply, just as he usually did—but each time he stirred, the heavy worry wrapped around his heart returned even stronger. A bitter tightness rose in his throat, born from fear and anxiety about what the next day might bring. He felt a fierce mix of emotions: overwhelming anger and pain over what Erland had done to him—something he felt he could never forget—yet at the same time, a deep fear of losing him, because of how much he loved him.
Yibo closed his eyes and shifted his position, trying to get comfortable, but peace wouldn't come.
He turned onto his other side, frowning in frustration.
When it became clear that sleep would not return, he pushed the blanket aside, sat up, and glanced at his phone on the bedside table—then looked away again, his face tightening.
Two minutes passed like that. Finally, he threw the blanket off completely, lowered his feet to the floor, picked up his phone, turned it on without checking any notifications, and set it back where it was. Then he stood up and walked toward the neatly arranged row of shoes in his room—designer pairs, all expensive, nearly every major brand represented.
He checked the time. It was 6:30 a.m., which meant his Dad was still exercising.
Yibo slipped into a black Nike top and trousers, pulled on white 𝐁𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐚 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐒 𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬, and headed toward the private gym inside the house. To get there, one had to pass through the living room that separated his room from his father's, leading into a large, well-equipped, immaculately arranged gym.
When he arrived, he knocked once, then pushed the door open—using more strength than necessary—and stepped inside, adjusting the small bandana on his head.
Zhan was dressed in black Lululemon workout gear. He was doing bench presses, lifting heavy weights with steady control. Yibo's entrance didn't make him stop, and he didn't turn around—he already knew no one else would come in if not his son.
With affection, Yibo walked up to him and said softly,
"𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝐷𝑎𝑑𝑑𝑦."
Zhan calmly finished his set, placed the weights aside, and sat up. Light sweat rolled down his smooth, healthy skin as he looked at Yibo, who handed him a bottle of water and asked,
"𝐷𝑖𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑤𝑒𝑙𝑙, 𝐷𝑎𝑑?"
Zhan studied him briefly—there were no obvious signs of poor sleep—then replied gently,
"𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑌𝑖𝑏𝑜. 𝐼 𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑝𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑒. 𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑦𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑦? 𝑇𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑙𝑖𝑚 𝑑𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑎 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚? 𝑂𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑢𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑒𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑?"
He said it teasingly, joking with his only son.
Yibo laughed lightly as he climbed onto the leg press machine and began slowly.
"𝐷𝑎𝑑, 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒. 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒. 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑑𝑎𝑦. 𝐻𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑙𝑦, 𝐸𝑟𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑 will ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢."
Zhan smiled again, wiping the sweat from his face with a small white towel.
"𝑌𝑜𝑢'𝑙𝑙 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑡, 𝑠𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑙𝑦. 𝐸𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒. 𝐵𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛, 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒 𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑦 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘—𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑘."
"𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑜, 𝐷𝑎𝑑, 𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝐼 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒."
Zhan shook his head with a soft smile—the kind that showed how grown Yibo was, yet how much of a baby he still was in his eyes. Even this marriage was happening mainly because Yibo wanted it so badly. Otherwise, Zhan would have preferred his son mature further—start working, understand life, learn independence. As it stood, Yibo still knew little of the world beyond his father. Zhan was his entire universe.
They finished their workout together and left the gym. Yibo chatted endlessly while Zhan listened calmly. Both of them looked radiant—the glow of comfort and privilege—Zhan in his armless top and long trousers, Yibo in a armless shirt and pants too.
Each headed to his own room.
Yibo showered, and just as he stepped out, his phone started ringing. He glanced at it and saw Erland's name.
A sharp pain surged from deep within his chest.
Every time Erland's name appeared now, it felt as though his heart was being set on fire—burning with jealousy and heartbreak.
He tossed the phone aside and stood before the mirror, beginning to get ready.
He applied oil, a light moisturizer, sprayed his body mist, and headed to the closet.
After 9 a.m., he stepped out dressed in a fitted 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞-𝐚𝐧𝐝-𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭, 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐫, and a small 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐚𝐧𝐚 wrapped neatly around his head.
He was heading toward Popo Yuli's room when he heard his Dad's voice in the dining room, speaking on the phone. He changed direction and went there instead.
Zhan and Popo Yuli were seated together. Yibo walked in and said lightly, "𝑆𝑜 𝐼'𝑚 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑥𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦?"
Popo Yuli laughed softly, relieved to see him looking more composed. In truth, she was hoping Zhan would leave soon so they could talk freely, without risking exposure.
Her greatest fear was Zhan's reaction if he found out they had gone to Erland's house. No matter how busy or wealthy he was, Zhan never neglected discipline or boundaries—he had raised Yibo carefully from infancy. If he learned they had visited Erland, his anger would be devastating. Worse still was the thought of Yibo himself describing what he had seen—Erland's hand inside another woman's clothing, touching her boobs. Both Popo Yuli and Yibo knew that if Zhan heard those words, only fate itself would determine what happened next.
On the other hand, Popo Yuli knew very well that Yibo might eventually say everything directly in front of his Dad.
That was why she felt such deep relief seeing Yibo looking a little calmer again—so much so that Zhan almost noticed. Still, he said nothing.
They had breakfast together, and once they were done, Zhan left for work.
The moment he stepped out, Yibo gathered all the anger and heartbreak he had been struggling to hide—feelings that felt heavy enough to crush him. He didn't waste time on long explanations. He simply told Popo Yuli that he was going to Neesah's house and would be back. He needed to hear everything from her, in detail; otherwise, his mind would spiral into destructive thoughts.
Knowing how intense Yibo's jealousy and emotions were, Popo Yuli allowed him to go.
When Yibo left the house, he deliberately avoided passing through Erland's neighborhood on his way to Neesah's place. He didn't want to see Erland's house—even from a distance. At that moment, he hated the house and the entire area around it.
When Yibo arrived at Neesah's house, Neesah herself was just about to leave in her car to go see him.
She reversed back inside, and Yibo drove in. They parked side by side and stepped out almost at the same time.
Neesah studied his face carefully—there was no trace of ease or calm on it.
Gently, she asked,
"𝐻𝑒𝑦, 𝑚𝑎𝑛… ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢?
𝐴𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑜𝑘𝑎𝑦?"
Yibo looked at her, took her outstretched hand, and said quietly,
"𝐷𝑜 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜'𝑠 𝑜𝑘𝑎𝑦?
𝐷𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑏𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑤 𝑦𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑎𝑦?"
They walked inside, speaking softly because of Yibo's fragile state.
Neesah's parents were together in the living room, so they went straight to her bedroom.
They sat down. Yibo tossed his handbag and car keys aside and looked at Neesah, who was offering him a bowl of candies.
"𝐴𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠? 𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑚 𝐼 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑐𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑦 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟?"
Neesah sighed deeply, then sat up with a serious expression.
"𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑗𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑦 𝑜𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛. 𝐸𝑟𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑧𝑒𝑟—𝑡𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑦. 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝐴𝑛𝑤𝑒𝑖 𝑖𝑛 𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒. 𝐼 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓. 𝑇ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑢𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑟 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑦—𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦.
𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑐𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒. 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 ℎ𝑒 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝐴𝑛𝑤𝑒𝑖 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒. 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑦 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑚."
Yibo couldn't speak. His eyes—red from pain and held-back tears—stayed fixed on Neesah.
Then, with frustration and anger, he said, "𝑆𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒?
𝐼𝑓 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑦𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑔𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒—𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛?"
Neesah replied softly, full of concern,
"𝑌𝑖𝑏𝑜, 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑𝑛'𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒.
𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 for 𝐸𝑟𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑.
𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝐼 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑎𝑦, '𝐸𝑟𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑙𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛'?
𝑊𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡?"
The words "sleeping with another woman" shattered what little stability Yibo had left. Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably.
Neesah moved closer, her voice gentle.
"𝑌𝑖𝑏𝑜, 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑦 𝑜𝑓 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒.
𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦, 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑎𝑔𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜𝑜—𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝐼 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝐼 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝐸𝑟𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡."
Yibo's tears fell even harder. He hadn't chosen to love Erland like this—it felt like fate had tested him with an overwhelming love, paired with unbearable jealousy that threatened to consume him.
Neesah tried to comfort him, but Yibo found no relief. He stood up, grabbed his Handbag and keys, and headed for the door.
Neesah rushed after him.
"𝑀𝑎𝑛, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔?"
With pain in his voice, Yibo said,
"𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟 𝑖𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑤𝑛 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑡ℎ. 𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑤ℎ𝑦 ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒."
"𝑁𝑜, 𝑌𝑖𝑏𝑜, 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑔𝑜 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛. 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑠𝑒. 𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 𝑢𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑒𝑛."
Yibo didn't stop walking.
"𝐼𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒."
"𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑜 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑒. 𝐼'𝑚 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢.
𝐺𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑘𝑒𝑦𝑠—𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑣𝑒."
Yibo handed them over and got into the car. Neesah took the driver's seat, started the engine, and they drove off.
As they headed toward Erland's house, neither of their hearts was steady. Neesah was almost certain they would find Anwei there.
Yibo, on the other hand, was terrified of seeing another woman with Erland again—this time, he knew he wouldn't be able to endure it. Anything could happen. His heart felt close to breaking.
Seeing Erland with another woman again would feel like the final blow.
Neesah drove slowly, silently hoping they wouldn't find Erland at home at all—especially not with Anwei.
When they reached the house—one of those Western-style buildings lined neatly together, with no gate and only an open compound—Neesah parked the car. She glanced at Erland's vehicle and immediately confirmed that he was home.
She looked at Yibo, whose eyes were already red and swollen, and her own heart sank all over again.
More than anyone, Neesah understood how deeply Yibo loved Erland. As his best friend, she had watched that love grow over time. Even Yibo's Dad had known how serious his feelings were, which was why everyone around them had come to accept and like Erland—simply because Yibo loved him.
What Erland had done to Yibo filled Neesah with anger. And she knew that whatever anger she felt was nothing compared to what Zhan would feel the day he found out what had been done to his son.
Yibo opened the car door and headed straight for the house.
Neesah hurried after him, calling out,
"𝑌𝑖𝑏𝑜, 𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑠𝑜 ℎ𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒. 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑙𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝑜..."
Her words were cut off as the door suddenly opened.
Erland stepped out—and right behind him was Anwei, holding his hand and talking to him in an overly intimate way.
They froze when they saw Yibo and Neesah standing there.
Erland quickly pulled his hand away from Anwei and stared at Yibo, who was looking back at him with eyes burning red from held-back tears.
Erland stepped closer, trying to speak, but Yibo shook his head, tears finally spilling over.
In a soft, uneasy tone, Erland said,
"𝐵𝑎𝑏𝑦, 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒. 𝑆ℎ𝑒'𝑠 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑎 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑…"
Anwei, clearly offended, stepped forward and looked straight at Yibo.
"𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢'𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔," she said. "𝐵𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑠, 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑤𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟'𝑠 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡𝑜𝑜—𝑠𝑜 𝑤ℎ𝑦 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢?"
The next second, Neesah slapped Anwei hard across the face.
The pain and fury behind the slap were unmistakable.
Yibo turned to her, his voice shaking with hatred.
"𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛'𝑡 𝑎𝑠𝑘 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑜𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑜𝑛."
Then he faced Erland, disgust and heartbreak burning in his eyes."𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑓𝑒 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑒? 𝐼𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑢𝑡𝑖𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑒?
𝑊ℎ𝑜 𝑖𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒?
𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚?
𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑒𝑥𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 ℎ𝑒𝑟?
𝑀𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑦? 𝑆𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑠?"
Erland raised his voice slightly and interrupted him.
"𝑌𝑖𝑏𝑜, 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒—𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘. 𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑎𝑡𝑒…"
Yibo barely managed to speak.
"𝑁𝑒𝑒𝑠𝑎ℎ… 𝑙𝑒𝑡'𝑠 𝑔𝑜."
He turned away and walked off, barely seeing where he was going.
Seeing that things hadn't exploded the way she wanted, Anwei rushed ahead and blocked Yibo's path.
"𝑆𝑜 𝑖𝑓 𝐼 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑦," she said mockingly, "𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐸𝑟𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑦? 𝐷𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑠?"
With raw jealousy and fury, Yibo snapped,
"𝑀𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑑𝑟𝑎𝑔 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑠. 𝑊𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑢𝑡ℎ."
Erland immediately stepped in.
"𝑌𝑖𝑏𝑜, 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑙 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓. 𝐷𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑗𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑦 𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦."
Anwei smiled in satisfaction. She knew Yibo would never tolerate any insult toward his own father—his name was never something to joke with
Yibo scoffed bitterly, his voice trembling.
"𝑁𝑒𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑜𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑝 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑖𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑓𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟'𝑠 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒."
He turned sharply and stormed toward the car.
Neesah stayed back just long enough to say to Erland,
"𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑦 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑟𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟."
Then she ran after Yibo, who was struggling to breathe, gasping like someone on the verge of an asthma attack.
She started the car quickly and drove toward Yibo's house, silently hoping they wouldn't find Zhan at home.
When they arrived, Popo Yuli saw them and immediately knew something was terribly wrong.
They helped Yibo into Popo Yuli's room, trying to calm him and steady his breathing.
Yibo had always had a fragile heart—he couldn't handle extreme emotional shock or pain. That was why, since childhood, Zhan had never taken anything concerning his son lightly. He had surrounded Yibo with care, comfort, and protection. Zhan had struggled endlessly through life—rising and falling—until he achieved success, all for the sake of giving his son a life of security and peace.
And now, in a single moment, someone's reckless behavior threatened to destroy everything he had worked so hard to build for Yibo.
It took a long while before Yibo finally calmed down. He lay silently on the bed, tears of deep sorrow rolling down his face and soaking into the pillow beneath his head.
From the moment they returned home, he hadn't been able to say a single word—only those quiet, relentless tears spoke for him. His heart felt unbearably tight, aching not only from the loss of Erland, but also from the rage boiling inside him. He despised anyone who dared show disrespect toward his father.
Even after Neesah had left, Yibo still said nothing. He had stopped crying, but his face was swollen and red, clear evidence of how much he had cried earlier.
After Neesah left, Popo Yuli asked Yibo to take a bath and rest in his room. He refused food, saying he didn't want anything.
Yibo didn't come out all evening. By the time Zhan returned home late that night, he had no idea anything was wrong. He assumed everyone had already eaten and gone to bed.
That night, Yibo barely slept. His head throbbed badly from all the crying and emotional strain.
Morning came, and by 10 a.m. Zhan still hadn't seen Yibo or received a call from him. Concerned, he picked up his phone and called Yibo, but the phone was switched off.
Frowning slightly, he lowered the phone and stood up, heading straight toward Yibo's bedroom.
On the way, he met Popo Yuli, with Zubbi behind her, carrying a tray of breakfast meant for Yibo—including medicine that Popo Yuli had secretly asked Dr. Sashi to bring earlier that morning.
Zhan looked from Popo Yuli to the tray, his expression calm but questioning.
"𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒?" he asked quietly.
"𝐼𝑠 𝑌𝑖𝑏𝑜 𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑘? 𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑖𝑚?"
Popo Yuli sighed, knowing there was no hiding it anymore. Zhan knew his son well—he had always been sensitive and prone to severe reactions under stress.
"𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑎 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑒," she said softly.
"𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠. 𝐷𝑟. 𝑆𝑎𝑠ℎ𝑖 𝑏𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑓𝑜𝑟 ℎ𝑖𝑚."
Zhan studied her face with his large, pale eyes, betraying no outward shock. He had long mastered the art of controlling his emotions. Without another word, he opened Yibo's bedroom door and walked in with steady steps.
Hearing his father's voice earlier had already stirred Yibo. When Zhan entered, Yibo slowly opened his eyes and looked at him, and a fresh wave of heartbreak crashed over him. Tears welled up again.
Zhan looked at his son's face—his eyes swollen, his expression broken. Instantly, he knew Yibo had cried harder than he ever had before.
𝘞𝘩𝘰 𝘥𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘱𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘦? he thought, bitterness tightening his chest.
He glanced back at Popo Yuli, who stood uncertainly, ready to explain.
Zhan moved closer and stood beside Yibo, taking in the swelling on his face. He sat on the edge of the bed.
Before he could say anything, Yibo broke down completely.
"𝐷𝑎𝑑… 𝐸𝑟𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑦𝑒𝑑 𝑚𝑒…"
Zhan exhaled slowly. He had always known how deeply Yibo loved Erland. He reached for a tissue beside the bed and gently wiped Yibo's tears, then spoke in a calm, grounding voice.
"𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡'𝑠 𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑛𝑜𝑤. 𝐺𝑒𝑡 𝑢𝑝, 𝑤𝑎𝑠ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑚𝑒𝑑𝑖𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑒. 𝑊𝑒'𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟."
Yibo didn't argue. He stood up, still wearing his soft sleepwear, and went to the bathroom.
When he returned, he sat beside Zhan and accepted the food, starting with the hot tea Popo Yuli had personally prepared.
While Yibo was eating, Zhan's phone rang. He stood up and stepped outside, leaving them alone.
Popo Yuli looked at Yibo and spoke gently.
"𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑔𝑜 𝑜𝑓 𝐸𝑟𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑑. 𝐹𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐼 𝑠𝑒𝑒, ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑑𝑣𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝑆𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑑, 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑟𝑒𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑𝑙𝑦, 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑑𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑚, 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑜𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑖𝑚—𝑏𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑒 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟. 𝐵𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠 𝑛𝑜 𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑐𝑒. 𝐿𝑒𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑔𝑜. 𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡. 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑒𝑟𝑣𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟."
Yibo said nothing. He only swallowed the pain rising in his chest and nodded faintly.
Everything Popo Yuli said reached Zhan's ears from outside. He now fully understood what had happened. Instead of entering the room, he turned and walked away quietly.
Yibo kept his phone switched off all day. He didn't want to see Erland's name on his screen—not even for a second. He knew his father would eventually learn everything, and that realization alone made it clear: his relationship with Erland was over.
His heart felt shattered.
That night passed without Erland coming to apologize. Even when Yibo eventually turned on his phone, there were no missed calls from him. That absence strengthened Yibo's resolve to push him completely out of his heart.
Zhan remained silent as well. Popo Yuli was the one who eventually explained everything to him—how Yibo had returned home and what had happened between him and Erland.
Two days passed in complete silence. No Erland. No calls. No explanations. Yibo sank deeper into emotional turmoil.
Yet, on another front, preparations for their trip to China continued as planned. That was what gave Yibo a small sense of hope—that maybe life would still move forward, that not everything had ended, and that he shouldn't completely give up just yet.