Unaware, Joanna Kennedy reached out to put his gold-rimd glasses back on, but the mont she moved, her wrist was seized in a tight grip.
Simon Lockwood was awake. A drunken stupor left him disoriented, unable to tell where he was. He only rembered Sean Grant handing him a drink. It had tasted sweet, but its kick was deceptively strong. He hadn’t realized how drunk he was until it was too late.
His sleep had been fitful. The past replayed endlessly in his mind like a faded film on fast-forward, the final fra frozen on an empty room—on a midnight that never arrived.
Waking to a suffocating pain, his years of ingrained vigilance instantly alerted him to a presence nearby. By reflex, he shot out a hand and restrained the person beside him.
A woman’s pained whimper sounded next to his ear. Simon Lockwood’s gaze followed the sound. Under the bright lights of the private room, her face ca into sharp focus.
Her damp lashes, the reddened corners of her eyes, her pupils slightly dilated in surprise. Her red lips were pressed into a thin line from the pain, yet she remained docile, not struggling against his grip.
Simon Lockwood’s eyes were devoid of emotion as he coldly surveyed the woman pressed so close to him, his grip on her wrist showing no signs of loosening.
The hand clamped around her wrist was burning hot. Joanna Kennedy assud he was feeling sick from the alcohol, and an undeniable tension crept into her voice. "What’s wrong? Does your head hurt? Or are you unwell sowhere else? How about we go to the hospital?"
Simon Lockwood’s cold, wary gaze sent a wave of panic through Joanna Kennedy. An uncontrollable fear rose in her heart, and she began to stamr, "I—I didn’t an to pester you. It was Boss Grant... Sean Grant. He called . He said you were drunk and asked to co—"
"Shut up."
Her words were cut short. Simon Lockwood’s expression was grim and cold.
Joanna Kennedy froze. Seeing the icy disdain in Simon Lockwood’s eyes, she was suddenly overco with humiliation and tried to pull her wrist free.
Simon Lockwood was far too strong. After struggling a few tis to no avail, she stopped moving, her eyes downcast, the very picture of a pitiful creature at the rcy of a bully.
"How many tis has it been?" Simon Lockwood suddenly spoke, his voice low and hoarse.
"...What do you an?"
’What does he an, how many tis has it been?’
"I’m asking you. How many tis has it been?" Simon Lockwood repeated, his obsessive, dark gaze fixed on her. Then he added, "Joanna Kennedy, why do you keep appearing in my dreams, looking so pitiful? Do you think I’ll fall for your act again?"
"..."
Joanna Kennedy stared, stunned. She opened her mouth, but it felt as if her throat had closed up, and not a single word would co out.
She suddenly realized that Simon Lockwood was awake, but not entirely sober.
’Otherwise, he would never say these things.’
Joanna Kennedy felt as if she’d been bludgeoned. Her head was ringing, and her heart hamred in her chest one mont, only to feel like it had stopped altogether the next. She was speechless.
But Simon Lockwood had no intention of letting her go. Still gripping her wrist, he sat up on the sofa, towering over her, his intense gaze boring into her eyes.
"What, six years have passed, and you’re still not tired of this face? Or is it that you, Miss Kennedy, haven’t grown bored of your little love ga yet?"
Six years ago, in the hallway of a bar, the flippant words of a wild, unrestrained girl... Simon Lockwood probably never imagined he would rember them to this day.
For a long ti afterward, he had been haunted by one stubborn thought: had Joanna Kennedy simply grown bored and decided that was why she’d ended things so decisively, without even granting him a final eting?
He had sealed these thoughts away in the deepest corner of his heart, never daring to re-examine them himself. Only now, with his inhibitions numbed by alcohol, did he let his guard down and voice them.
’Perhaps, for all these years, he had been desperate for an answer.’
Joanna Kennedy was utterly frozen. The world went silent around her. She felt as if she’d been plunged from sumr into a frozen wasteland, a chill seeping deep into her bones. Tears began to fall like broken threads. She heard her own voice, thick with a sob, say, "I didn’t..."
’Perhaps her intentions at the start hadn’t been entirely pure, but she had genuinely co to love Simon Lockwood. She did love his face, that was true. But she had t so many people since, n who were even more handso than him, yet her heart had remained completely unmoved.’
’She loved Simon Lockwood’s looks, but she loved Simon Lockwood the person even more. She loved everything about him, the boring and the interesting. She cherished it all.’
’But Simon thought she was just pulling the sa old tricks, that she hadn’t tired of her little love ga.’
’Those inopportune encounters—in his eyes, they must have just seed like her putting on a pitiful act to get his sympathy. That’s why he was so cold and mocking, and yet... he still helped her, still saved her...’
’Just a few hours ago, she was thinking that it would be good enough just to be friends. Now, she suddenly realized how naive she had been.’
’How could Simon Lockwood, after being fooled once, ever allow her to get close again?’
’In Simon Lockwood’s eyes, she had lost all credibility.’
The air in the private room was unnaturally still. Simon Lockwood suddenly released her wrist, picked up a glass of cold water from the marble tabletop, and downed it in one go.
His muddled brain cleared considerably. ’He knew everything tonight had spiraled out of control. He shouldn’t have said those things, especially not in front of Joanna Kennedy.’
He had shattered the feigned calm with his own two hands.
’Now, neither of them could pretend that nothing had happened.’
The alcohol left a splitting headache in its wake, his temples throbbing painfully. He set the glass back on the marble tabletop.
It made a soft, crisp sound. Like a switch being flipped, Simon Lockwood heard the quiet voice of the woman beside him. "Do you regret it?"
Simon Lockwood’s hatred was undisguised. Joanna Kennedy was suddenly desperate to know—if he could do it all over again, would he regret agreeing to be with her?
"..."
Simon Lockwood didn’t answer. He stumbled as he stood up, and Joanna Kennedy scrambled to her feet to support him, but he took a step back, dodging her touch.
’I was too impulsive.’ He thought back and realized Sean Grant must have sent Joanna Kennedy here deliberately. This wasn’t a case of her seeking him out.
’And yet he was the one who had lost control and said all those things. Anyone could see who was the one still holding a grudge.’
’Joanna Kennedy had probably forgotten long ago. Or maybe she just didn’t care. That must be why she could face him so calmly every ti, putting on her innocent, pitiful act.’
’The only one trapped in the past, unable to move on, was him.’
’But that wouldn’t do.’
’It wasn’t fair...’
Simon Lockwood let out a nearly inaudible laugh. His eyes swept over Joanna Kennedy from head to toe in a scrutinizing gaze, finally landing back on her tear-filled, red-rimd eyes.
"Joanna Kennedy, what answer are you hoping to hear?"
Simon Lockwood noticed a flicker of confusion in Joanna Kennedy’s eyes. He began to speak slowly. "Actually, I do regret it."
"...I’m sorry." Joanna Kennedy couldn’t bring herself to look at him anymore. Her fingertips dug helplessly into her palms, unconsciously leaving behind a series of red marks.
"Sorry for what?" Simon Lockwood sneered.
’Sorry for pursuing him back then? Or sorry for coming to find him today?’
’He didn’t want to hear either answer.’
"Joanna Kennedy, do you know what it is I regret?"
Joanna Kennedy raised her eyes and looked at him in confusion. With her innocent, pretty face, red-rimd eyes, and the red tip of her nose, she was the very picture of pitiable charm.
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