Chapter 25: Tides of Trust

The drive back to the villa felt like escaping a warzone. Zhi accelerated recklessly, the sports car's engine roaring as we tore through Okinawa's winding coastal roads. My stomach churned—half from motion sickness, half from Ryoji's ominous warnings still echoing in my skull. 

"Zhi..." I barely choked out his name before lurching from the car. Dinner splattered across the asphalt as I gripped a telephone pole, trembling. 

He appeared at my side, guilt etched into his sharp features. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—" 

"You're scared he'll take me?" I rasped, wiping bile from my lips. "That's why you drove like a madman?" 

His silence confirmed everything. 

Nightfall found us on the villa's rooftop pool. Moonlight silvered the water as Zhi surfaced like some mythical sea creature, droplets gliding down his torso. I dangled my feet in the shallows, picking at a fruit salad. 

"Coward." He splashed me. 

The challenge ignited old instincts. I retaliated with cannonball dives perfected during Dalian summers, our laughter bouncing off concrete walls. But playfulness turned perilous when he dragged me under, our soaked clothes clinging like second skins. 

"Stop!" I gasped as his lips found my collarbone. "Not here—" 

"Still thinking of *him*?" The accusation hung between us like poisoned mist. 

My palm cracked across his cheek before I could think. 

The slap reverberated through the villa. I fled to my room, tearfully scrubbing saltwater and regret in the shower. Midnight found me hovering at his doorway, drawn by the clink of beer cans. 

The red mark on his face stopped me cold. "Does it... hurt?" 

He pressed a chilled can to his cheekbone. "Deserved it." 

What happened next blurred like monsoon rain—his apology tasted of hops and desperation, our towels pooling on teak flooring. When he lifted me onto the bed, I learned pain could be soft-edged. 

"Why didn't you tell me?" He froze above me, horror dawning. 

"Would it have changed anything?" I whispered through tears. 

Dawn revealed us tangled in sweat-damp sheets, his cheek still bearing my fingerprints. The ocean sighed beyond glass walls, its rhythm mocking human complexities. 

"Serves you right." I traced the fading mark as sunlight gilded his jaw. 

He nipped my shoulder in retaliation. "Tyrant." 

Our laughter dissolved into something warmer, slower. This time, when he moved, the world didn't fracture—it *sang*.