The house was quiet that night, too quiet. Even the rain outside seemed to hush itself, as if unwilling to disturb the silence that hung heavy between them.
Li Na sat by the window of her room, hugging her knees, staring at the blurred glow of city lights beyond the glass. The leaked contract still haunted her, not only because it threatened their fragile arrangement but because of that fleeting look in Yen Rui's eyes is of doubt, sharp and cutting.
A knock at the door startled her. She turned, and there he was Director Yen Rui, no longer the immovable figure behind a desk, but a man standing in the threshold, his expression unreadable in the dim light.
"May I come in?"
She hesitated, then nodded.
He stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. For a moment, he said nothing, only looked at her, his posture stiff, as though words were foreign currency he wasn't used to spending.
Finally, he spoke. "Today… I should not have paused."
Li Na's brow furrowed. "Paused?"
"When you asked if I thought it was you who leaked the contract." His jaw tightened. "Even a second of hesitation was too much."
Her chest ached at the admission. "So you did doubt me."
He drew in a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair with a gesture she had never seen from him before. "I doubt everyone, Li Na. It's how I survive in a world of knives. But…" His gaze lifted, piercing, almost vulnerable. "I should not have doubted you."
The confession, stripped of his usual composure, pressed against her like a weight. She wanted to hate him for it, to guard herself. But the exhaustion in his voice, the rare crack in his armor, pulled at something inside her she couldn't name.
Slowly, she whispered, "I'm not here to hurt you, Yen Rui. I may not know what this marriage will become, but I will never be the one to betray it."
For a heartbeat, the silence stretched, charged with everything unsaid. Then he crossed the room, stopping just a breath away from her. His hand lifted as if to touch her cheek, then faltered, fingers curling into a fist before falling to his side.
"You're stronger than I expected," he murmured. "Too strong for the games people play. That's why they'll try harder to break you."
Li Na swallowed, her voice trembling but firm. "Then let them try. As long as you don't see me as the enemy, I can survive anything."
His lips curved, not in a smirk but in something faint, softer, almost hidden. "You're not the enemy, Li Na. Not anymore."
And in that quiet, unguarded moment, something shifted, still fragile, still unspoken, but real.
For the first time, their silence was not a wall, but a thread. A thread that, if pulled, could bind them closer… or snap under the weight of everything yet to come.