Back in bed, Elena thought their conjugal duties for the day were finally over. Her waist was so sore she could barely move. Too exhausted even to shower, she buried herself under the covers, ready to pass out.
But just as she pulled the quilt over her body, the room's light suddenly dimmed.
In the darkness, Ethan Jiang tugged the blanket off her and pressed down, claiming her lips once more.
Elena's barely-relaxed brows instantly drew tight again.
She didn't even have time to feel afraid. Overwhelmed and worn out, she bit down hard on his shoulder in retaliation.
Outside the window, the midnight breeze drifted in, faint and cool.
Just before she completely blacked out, Elena thought she heard him murmur something. But her head was pounding so badly she couldn't even tell what he said—only that the world spun even as she lay flat in bed.
By the time she woke up again, it was well past ten.
Her bones felt like they'd been broken apart and forced back together—every inch of her ached so terribly that even turning over made her tremble.
She tucked herself into the blanket completely, not even poking her head out.
In pain and close to tears, she silently cursed him in her heart while reviewing—over and over again—what exactly she had done to provoke Ethan yesterday.
Especially that incident in the car.
For as long as she could remember, Elena had never seen Ethan angry. He had always been like a perfectly-calibrated machine—flawless in his control. Whether clinking glasses at family banquets or negotiating ruthless business deals, he had never once betrayed emotion.
Yet last night, during that hour in the garage, every one of his movements had carried a rage barely suppressed.
The divorce couldn't proceed, and at this point, she didn't even have the right to raise it again. But she was determined not to suffer repeatedly under the banner of marital obligation. Last night had left a shadow in her heart.
She didn't want to endure that kind of helplessness again—not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever.
Elena lay motionless, like a corpse, buried under the covers.
Fighting through the fog in her brain, she began to trace back every interaction she'd had with Ethan—unraveling the knots, thread by thread.
Her mind paused for a moment from yesterday morning when he'd asked, out of nowhere, what dream she'd had the night before.
She found it odd then.
Ethan wasn't the type to indulge in pointless small talk.
But that strange question had stuck with her, nagging in the back of her mind.
Brows furrowed, she kept rewinding her memories.
Until her thoughts landed on the night, she had a fever and dreamt those strange dreams.
Could it be…
A jolt of realization struck Elena so hard she shot upright in bed.
But the pain in her waist surged up violently the moment she moved, forcing her to bite down and clutch her aching body, eyes filling with tears as she collapsed back onto the mattress.
She pulled the blanket over her head again and, under its dark shelter, tried to follow the train of thought from earlier.
That night… had she mumbled something in her sleep?
But dreams fade upon waking.
Even now, she could barely recall what she'd dreamt about that night.
Finding clues in a dream was a dead end.
So she shelved that line of thinking and turned back to last night.
In the car, she vaguely remembered Ethan pinning her down and asking, in a low, cold voice—
"So afraid of being seen by me?"
She hadn't responded then, too shaken to think.
But now, recalling that question alongside the one about her dream, and her guilty conscience about lying to him a few days ago—when she told him Adrian Jiang had only dropped something off at her apartment…
All these fragments strung themselves into a startling thought:
Could Ethan possibly believe… that she and Adrian were still involved?
As if she was cheating on him?
In the living room downstairs, Ethan had just finished handling company matters and stepped out of his study.
Butler Pang had been waiting there for a while.
He'd stayed up late last night hoping to see Ethan but hadn't managed to. Now that Ethan was here, he quickly reported, "Mr. Jiang, Second Young Master, came to Yushan Residence yesterday evening. Said he needed a document signed by you."
Ethan accepted a glass of water with a cool, impassive expression. At the butler's words, he merely nodded faintly.
Back upstairs, Elena was still suffering the aftermath of the night before.
She had pieced together the events of the past few days, and the theory she'd formed had left her even dizzier than before.
When Ethan entered the room, she was still playing dead under the covers.
He stood at the foot of the bed, looking at the small bump under the blanket for a few moments before walking over and gently lifting one corner of the quilt.
He immediately felt resistance—Elena was tugging back.
But her strength was no match for his. With little effort, the blanket was peeled back just enough to reveal her head.
"You're awake?" he asked.
His tone, as always, was calm and soft.
His hand lingered on the edge of the quilt as he looked down at her. Her eyes were still red from crying.
"Staying buried under the blanket for too long will only make your dizziness worse," he said. "Don't hide like that."
Though her face was exposed, the rest of her remained hidden beneath the quilt. Faint traces of last night lingered on her skin—marks trailing down her neck. The silk nightgown she wore had ridden up in her tossing and turning, baring one shoulder completely.
As the blanket slid past her chin, she refused to let him pull it any lower. Her eyes, filled with both grievance and suppressed anger, stared up at him. The corners were red, her eyelids faintly swollen.
Looking at the girl he'd pushed too far the night before, Ethan recalled how she had cried in his arms, tears rolling silently down her cheeks.
Seeing the redness at the corners of her eyes, he knew he hadn't controlled himself—and that she'd suffered all night because of it. He lowered himself slightly, about to say something to comfort her.
But before he could speak, the girl who'd been lying curled up all this time slowly sat up, still clutching the surrounding blanket like armor.
She looked up at him, lips pressed together tightly, and asked in a soft, hesitant voice:
"Did I… do something to make you angry?"
Ethan's hand, which had been about to ruffle her hair, froze midair.
"What makes you ask that?" he replied.