He seed to be speaking to her, but also to himself, as if trying to rein in his body with words.
’He was so adorable, her heart felt like it was lting.’
"Why are you so well-behaved when you’re drunk? So n aren’t. They beat their wives, harass girls on the street, and do all sorts of terrible things."
Back then, Felix Sinclair had shaken his head, trying hard to clear his thoughts so he could give her a serious answer.
She didn’t rush him, waiting patiently as he processed her question.
Before long, she heard his reply. "It has nothing to do with the alcohol. It’s because that’s their true nature even before they start drinking. They just use being drunk as an excuse to act on it."
"You’re right."
But then he asked, "Have you run into soone like that before?"
She froze for a mont, then smiled at him. "Guess."
She turned, her steps light and quick.
She never answered his question.
Before she entered this world, her stepfather had been an alcoholic. Whenever he got drunk, he would beco violent—hitting people, smashing things, spewing curses. He would even kick down her door and try to rip her dresses.
After that, she never wore a dress again.
She had always thought all n were like that when they were drunk.
On the way back that day, she walked a long, long way by herself. When she finally snapped out of her daze, she realized she could no longer hear footsteps behind her.
She turned around, bewildered.
Felix Sinclair was still standing under the tree.
He was still standing under the old locust tree where they had just been chatting.
He stood there all alone, his very shadow on the ground appearing lonely and desolate.
He was watching her, but she was too far away to make out his expression, to know what he was thinking.
After a stubborn standoff, their eyes locked, she sighed in resignation, turned around, and walked back to him.
"Why did you stop? It’s getting late."
He didn’t say a word, just stared at her.
"Are you not feeling well?"
This ti, he slowly shook his head.
"Then why aren’t you moving?"
He opened his mouth as if to speak, but then hesitated.
Then it dawned on her. She grabbed his hand and said with a smile, "Alright, I get it. It’s ti to go ho now."
He didn’t say anything more that night.
And she assud that by morning, no one would even rember the little episode.
She herself had forgotten all about it by the ti she woke up.
But as it turned out, Felix Sinclair rembered.
The next morning at school, she found a bottle of strawberry milk that wasn’t hers inside her desk, along with a discreet note tucked under a textbook.
*"More than milk, I wish I could give you wings. —F."*
Even now, thinking back on it, Mia Grant couldn’t help but feel a wave of emotion.
She was surprised he hadn’t blacked out from the drinking. And she was even more surprised that he hadn’t tried to comfort her with so grand, long-winded speech.
He was so considerate it made her feel a little ashad.
He was probably afraid of dredging up the past and reawakening her unpleasant mories.
So, he simply said he wished he could give her wings.
’Hoping that, if she could, she would fly away and escape...’
—
Mia Grant only ntioned Felix Sinclair drinking at Fatty’s birthday party. She didn’t say a word about anything else.
The puppy pouted. "Is that all?"
"Then what more do you want?" she asked, tugging his ear.
"Again?!"
The puppy complained but didn’t pull away.
Mia Grant laughed and let go of his ear. Then she heard him ask, "Um... ahem, was what you said back there true?"
The puppy’s voice was quiet, as if he was embarrassed.
Mia Grant was confused. "What did I say?"
Ian Sinclair shot her a sideways glance, a hint of displeasure in his eyes. "About taking you ho."
She blinked and smiled. "It’s true. Don’t you rember it, too?"
The puppy was at a loss for words. He looked completely exasperated but didn’t dare to lash out, as if he was utterly helpless against her.
"I’m not asking if it really happened. I’m asking if, when I took you ho, you really...
...felt sothing?"
The puppy averted his gaze but couldn’t resist sneaking glances at her, looking shy and nervous, yet full of anticipation.
Mia Grant feigned hesitation. "I guess you could say that."
"What do you an, ’I guess you could say that’?" The puppy was not satisfied with her answer. "It’s a yes or no question! That’s not what you said back there!" he protested.
’The puppy is so cute when he gets all ruffled.’
’Mia Grant desperately wanted to reach out and squish his little head!’
Stifling a laugh, she decided to tease him. Going along with his logic, she said, "Then I guess it wasn’t?"
"..." The puppy slamd on the brakes, screeching to a halt at the red light.
He turned his head and, in a fit of pique, leaned over to bite her.
Mia Grant gasped. She was about to curse him out but rembered they had a passenger in the back seat.
She gave him a light push and whispered, "Drive! Just drive properly!"
Ian Sinclair lowered his gaze, looking at her with a resentful pout. "I’ll give you one more chance. Answer again."
Mia Grant couldn’t help but laugh.
The next second, he grabbed her face, squeezing her cheeks. "Laugh, laugh, go on and laugh," he whispered fiercely in her ear. "You’ll be crying soon enough."
"..." Her smile froze on her face.
Ian Sinclair turned her face to his, held her gaze for two seconds, then abruptly ducked his head and planted a hard kiss on her lips.
’He was demonstrating through his actions that the puppy was very angry, and the consequences would be severe!’
Mia Grant coughed lightly. "I was just joking with you. If I said all that back there, then of course it was true."
The puppy lowered his gaze, peering at her from under his lashes. He huffed. "Really?"
"Of course," Mia Grant said, pushing him. "Alright, alright, the light’s green! Go, go, go!"
Only then did Ian Sinclair sit back, satisfied.
Mia Grant watched him, noticing that he was clearly gloating on the inside. He tried to keep his lips from smiling, but the corners kept twitching upward, even as he maintained his usual smug facade.
*Tsk.*
’Puppies are easy to please, and fun to play with.’
’But they also bite easily.’
’Next ti, I’ll have to put a leash around this puppy’s neck.’
—
「Portia.」
Late at night, Yates Donovan was getting drowsy and couldn’t stifle a yawn.
The movent pulled at the cut on the corner of his lip, making him wince in pain.
Across from him, Silas Grant was too distracted by the noise to work.
His pen slipped, leaving a long streak across the docunt.
He looked up, his expression flat, and stared at Yates Donovan, who was sprawled in a chair. "Keep it up, and you can get the hell back to Jynsia."
"You think I want to be here?" Yates Donovan rubbed his cheek, carefully avoiding his injury. "That bastard... he sure doesn’t pull his punches."
"If he hadn’t, I could have at least seen her off at the airport."
At this, Silas Grant chuckled. "So you’re allowed to throw the first punch, but other people aren’t allowed to act in self-defense?"
Yates Donovan grinned. "I was just ssing with you, wasn’t I?"
"Is that so," Silas Grant said, giving him a cold look.
「Ti rewound to the day Mia Grant returned to Jynsia.」
Inside the office, the two of them had clashed.
When Eric pushed the door open, he was aghast at the scene.
At first, he assud it was Kian Keller and Yates Donovan, who were famously at odds, who had co to blows.
But to his surprise, Kian Keller, the third person in the room, was sitting calmly at the desk sipping his tea. He didn’t so much as bat an eyelid, let alone glance in their direction.
It wasn’t until Yates Donovan walked past and snatched his cane that Kian finally frowned, lifting his gaze to see what was happening.
Yates Donovan held the cane defensively, looking as if he was ready to teach Silas Grant a lesson with it the mont he ca any closer.
As a gentleman, Silas Grant was always very particular about his appearance, especially in front of a girl he liked.
And Yates Donovan was a natural-born narcissist.
That was why, on that day, neither of them went to see Mia Grant off.
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