Chapter 10; I love you

A deep hush settled over the room.

Claire's breath caught in her throat. The weight of Leon's body, the heat radiating from him, the way his face hovered just inches above hers—it was overwhelming. His stormy grey eyes, clouded with an unreadable emotion, bore into hers.

She swallowed hard, heart pounding against her ribs.

He was drunk. That was clear. His scent with

a mix of whiskey, enveloped her, making her dizzy. But despite his intoxicated state, there was something sharp in his gaze—something searching.

Then, in a hushed, almost dazed voice, he murmured, "Have we met before?"

Claire's stomach clenched.

It was such a simple question, yet it sent a wave of unease through her.

She wanted to dismiss it, tell him he was imagining things, but his intense stare made it impossible to brush aside. His fingers, still loosely curled around her wrist, twitched slightly, as if he were trying to grasp something just out of reach.

Claire took a shaky breath, trying to compose herself. "You're drunk, Leon," she muttered. "Get off me."

His eyes darkened, but he didn't move immediately. Instead, his free hand reached up, his fingertips grazing her cheek in a touch so light it sent a shiver down her spine. His brows furrowed slightly, as though he were struggling to piece something together.

"You feel… familiar," he whispered, almost to himself.

Claire's heart pounded harder.

What was he talking about?

She opened her mouth to say something—anything—but before she could, Leon blinked, as if coming out of a trance, then exhales heavily before pushing himself off her. Without another word, he stumbles to the bed and collapses, leaving Claire staring at him, shaken. His legs, remained dangling over the edge of the bed, feet barely touching the floor. Too tired to adjust, he simply lay there, motionless.

Claire wondered exactly what conversation he had with his dad that made him get so drunk, she couldn't help but stare at his sleeping face, though asleep, he still looked guarded with a pained expression and frown on his face.

She couldn't help but wonder all that he went through, suddenly, she scolded herself —she had no right to pity him—wasn't she here to cause him more pain. With a sad smile she walked towards him, gently removing his socks, she placed his feet on the bed and proceeded to undo his tie and a few buttons of his shirt, so that he can sleep comfortably.

Her gaze lingered on his face for a few seconds, did he deserve all this—the heartbreak.

"I'm sorry" she muttered, though she didn't understand all that happened in the Yu family that left them all broken and she shouldn't interfere much, her curiosity was killing her, she wanted to help them, maybe...if she found out the truth, she could stop Aaron's scheme. With that thought in mind, she fell asleep.

———

"Run, Aire. Run and don't look back. Please, my love, don't go back there. Don't try to get revenge. Just be happy," Lana whispered, her voice weak as she cupped her daughter's face with a trembling, blood-stained hand.

Aire's chest tightened, her whole body frozen as she watched her mother lying there, blood spilling from her mother's lips, staining the ground beneath her. The metallic scent of blood filled the night air, sharp and suffocating. Tears blurred her vision, but she refused to let them fall.

No. No, this wasn't happening.

Her mother lay in a growing pool of blood, her body trembling from the bullet wound that had torn through her when she threw herself to save Aire. Her once-warm brown eyes were dimming, yet she still looked at Aire with nothing but love.

They had taken everything from them. First, her father—who had cast them aside as if they were nothing. And now this. Now they wanted them dead.

Lana coughed violently, more blood spilling from her lips as she tried to push Aire away. "Go now, or they'll kill you too," she pleaded, her strength fading fast. "I love you."

Then, with one last shaky breath, her body went still.

Her hand slipped from Aire's cheek. Her eyes, once so full of warmth, lost their light.

Aire didn't scream. She didn't cry. She just sat there, staring at her mother's lifeless body, her hands shaking. It felt like her heart had been ripped apart, but no sound left her lips.

How did this happen?

They had only gone to the museum. Just a normal day. A mother and daughter outing. Then that cab—the one they hadn't questioned, the one they should have noticed was suspicious.

Her nails dug into her palms. She wanted to stay.

But then—

Footsteps.

Close. Getting closer.

Forcing her legs to move, Aire pushed herself up and ran—her mom's last wish was for her to survive, she won't let her mom's sacrifice go to waste.

Her whole body ached, blood dripping from wounds she hadn't even noticed. But she didn't stop. She couldn't. The footsteps behind her grew louder. They were gaining on her.

Faster. She had to go faster.

Then—

A misstep.

"Ahh!" She yelped as the ground disappeared beneath her feet.

She tumbled down a steep hill, her body crashing through bushes and sharp branches. She tried to grab onto something—anything—but she kept falling.

Then, a sharp, searing pain.

Her head slammed into a rock at the bottom.

Darkness swallowed her whole.

And everything went silent.

————

Leon woke up with a pounding headache, groaning as he ran a hand through his tousled hair. His thoughts were sluggish, tangled in the haze of last night's drunken stupor. He recalled stumbling into the room, falling on Claire—then the question he had asked her, the confusion in her eyes before she hid it away.

Had he been wrong? Was she not the one?

Guilt settled in his chest as he glanced down at himself. His shirt was buttoned, and a blanket had been draped over him. For weeks, he had treated her with nothing but coldness, yet she had taken care of him when he was at his weakest.

His gaze shifted to Claire. She lay still, her face peaceful—until her brows suddenly creased in distress.

A whimper escaped her lips.

Leon's attention sharpened. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and silent tears slipped down her cheeks. Her fingers twitched as if grasping for something—someone.

"Claire," he called, reaching out to shake her gently. When she didn't wake, he gripped her shoulders, his voice urgent. "Claire! Wake up!"

A sharp gasp tore through her as she jolted awake, her chest heaving. Her wild eyes darted around in confusion, still lost in the remnants of the nightmare.

Leon barely had time to react before she reached for him.

Claire clung to him, sobbing against his chest, her body trembling. For a moment, he stiffened—caught off guard by the sudden intimacy—but as her cries softened into shaky breaths, he hesitantly wrapped his arms around her, his touch careful, uncertain. He ran a soothing hand down her back.

Minutes passed before she finally stilled.

Realization dawned in her eyes as she inhaled his scent—warm, masculine, unfamiliar. He wasn't the one she had expected to find.

Embarrassment flickered across her face. She pulled away, quickly wiping her tears. "I... I need to freshen up," she mumbled before rushing into the bathroom.

Leon watched the door close, his chest tightening.

She had been so vulnerable just now, and for the first time, he saw her as more than the woman he had been forced to marry.

She wasn't just Claire. She was someone carrying a past that still haunted her.

Inside the bathroom, Claire gripped the sink, her knuckles white.

Five years.

Five years, and still, that night refused to let her go.

She splashed cold water on her face, trying to wash away the memories. But the moment she lifted her gaze to the mirror, she saw it—her mother's bloodied face, the fading warmth in her eyes as she whispered her final words—the only thing stopping her from getting revenge on those people. But she won't make that mistake again, she won't loose her mom Luna again, she'll definitely save her—whatever it takes.

With renewed determination, she stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in a red polka-dot top and a pair of shorts. Her damp hair clung to her skin, but she didn't bother drying it.

Her eyes fell on Leon.

He lounged on the couch, sipping hangover tea while flipping through documents. His tie was loosened, his shirt slightly rumpled, and his dark hair disheveled. It was an unguarded, rugged look, and Claire found herself staring.

He must have noticed because he raised an eyebrow.

Realizing she had been caught, Claire flushed. "Uh… I just wanted to thank you for waking me up. And… how's your headache?" she stammered, avoiding his gaze.

Leon smirked, setting his tea down as he pushed himself off the couch.

He walked toward her, slow and deliberate.

Claire instinctively backed away until her shoulders hit the wall. Leon's presence loomed over her as he placed a hand against the wall beside her head, caging her in.

"Were you checking me out just now?" His voice was low, amused.

Claire's face burned.

"I—no! I was just checking if you were okay!" she blurted out, looking everywhere but at him.

Leon tilted his head, his gaze flicking to her damp hair.

"You never dry your hair, do you?"

Claire shook her head.

His expression flickered with something she couldn't quite name. For a moment, neither of them spoke, lost in each other's eyes.

Leon hesitated, then spoke, his voice softer than before.

"Claire…"

She blinked.

"I'm sorry."