Chapter142 Clifton Is Driving Her Away
Time passed. The sky outside had completely darkened, only the training ground's floodlights illuminating half the sky.
The faint sound of cadence calls stopped, followed by a burst of noisy footsteps and voices, drawing closer.
Miranda heard the commotion and stood up. She smoothed her skirt, pushed open the office door, and walked out.
In the hallway.
A group of men who'd just finished training were walking over with arms around each other's shoulders.
Seeing Miranda emerge from the office, the originally rowdy crowd seemed to hit pause, instantly falling silent.
The next second, someone took the lead and shouted.
"Miranda?"
These special forces operatives who were decisive and ruthless on the battlefield now each grinned like flowers. Some scratched their heads sheepishly, others quickly pulled down their sweat-soaked vests, afraid of offending Miranda with the smell.
Miranda was also a bit embarrassed by this reception but quickly adjusted, wearing a proper smile.
"Hello, everyone."
She pointed to the two large bags on the office floor. "I passed by a supermarket and bought some fruit. I don't know if you like it, but I brought it over."
"We love it! How could we not!"
"If Miranda bought it, we'd love it even if it was wasabi!"
Hearing there was fruit, everyone's eyes lit up. A few quick ones had already rushed in to grab the bags.
Just as everyone crowded around Miranda, chattering their thanks and excitement, an ice-cold, low voice suddenly came from the end of the hallway.
"Not going back to rest? What are you all standing around here for? Still have energy to burn?"
The voice wasn't loud, but it carried an authoritative pressure.
The team members who'd been grinning froze instantly, their smiles vanishing as they straightened up reflexively and cleared a path.
"C-Captain..."
Miranda looked in the direction of the voice.
Clifton was striding toward them.
He wore a tight black tactical T-shirt completely soaked through with sweat, clinging to his body and outlining his well-defined muscles.
His arm was wrapped in white bandages, faintly showing blood.
Intensely aggressive masculine pheromones mixed with the smell of sweat and gunpowder hit her face.
The man's deep eyes passed over everyone and landed directly on Miranda's face.
Their gazes met.
Miranda gave him a soft, warm smile, her voice gentle. "Clifton."
Clifton's steps didn't stop until he stood less than half a meter in front of her.
He looked down at her, his gaze sweeping across her face before settling on that smile.
"Why are you here?" Clifton's voice revealed neither pleasure nor anger, only distance. "Didn't you say you weren't free today?"
At those words, the team members who'd wanted to watch the excitement exchanged glances, sensitively detecting something wrong.
The smile on Miranda's face faded slightly hearing the man's distant tone.
But remembering why she'd come today, she slowly asked, "Clifton, are you and your team free today? I'd like to treat you all to dinner."
She believed in addressing problems directly. Talking things through had to be better than yesterday's situation.
Also, she could tell Clifton was angry because of her. She wanted to know why.
Miranda quietly waited for the man's answer.
Clifton looked down at her.
Looking at that trace of cautious expectation in her eyes.
If he'd heard this yesterday, he probably would have been happy.
But now, seeing her like this, what flashed through his mind was yesterday's scene of her rejecting him.
Had she pushed off her dinner with Harrison? Or was Harrison unavailable, so she thought of him?
Once that thought arose, it wouldn't go away.
Clifton looked away, no longer looking at her. His thin lips parted, coldly spitting out two words.
"Not free."
After speaking, an indescribable sourness and anger churned in his chest, finally transforming into vindictive satisfaction.
Miranda stood there stunned, the smile at the corners of her mouth gradually fading.
Not free.
That's what she'd told him yesterday.
Now he was returning it to her intact.
Miranda bit her lower lip. She wanted to ask why, to ask what he was angry about.
But seeing so many eyes around them, this wasn't a good time to discuss it.
"Alright."
Miranda lowered her eyes, hiding the sourness in them, her voice somewhat hoarse. "Since you're not free, then forget..."
"Um... Miranda!"
Just then, a bold team member laughed awkwardly, trying to ease the suffocating awkwardness. "Captain, you're not trying to save your wife money, are you? You said before you wanted to bring your wife to treat us when you got back. Isn't this perfect timing?"
Then he helpfully suggested, "Miranda, why don't we skip eating out? That's expensive. Our cafeteria food is really quite good. Why don't you join us at the cafeteria?"
Miranda paused.
Though not what she'd envisioned, as long as she could be with him and ease their relationship, what did it matter where they ate?
That sourness retreated slightly. Miranda lifted her head, about to say "okay."
"She's not going."
Clifton's ice-cold voice rang out again, like a bucket of cold water directly extinguishing the small flame that had just sparked in her heart.
Miranda's lips, just parted, froze mid-air. That "okay" stuck in her throat, unable to come out.
She looked at Clifton in disbelief.
Clifton withdrew his gaze, then looked at Miranda again.
Looking at that face gradually losing color, looking at the mist gradually forming in her eyes, his heart felt like someone was cutting it with a dull knife.
But he just couldn't control the anger in his heart.
Why could she reject when she wanted and accept when she wanted?
If Harrison had been available today, would she have come here?
Once that thought arose, it couldn't be suppressed.
"It's getting late."
Clifton glanced at the watch on his wrist, his tone as indifferent as if speaking to a stranger. "This is a military area. Outsiders can't stay long. You should go. Don't wait for me."
The sourness in her heart surged like a tide, instantly flooding Miranda's nose.
She blinked hard, forcing back the heat in her eyes. The corners of her mouth lifted slightly, forming an extremely bitter yet dignified smile.
"Alright."
Her voice was soft but clear. "I understand."
"I left the fruit I bought for you in your office. Remember to eat it. Don't let it go bad."
After speaking, she looked at the team members. "I'll head out first then. Take your time eating. I'll treat you another time when there's a chance."
"Miranda..."
The team members looked at her, clearly sensing something wrong between their captain and his wife, but since the captain had spoken, they dared not make her stay.
Miranda turned and walked step by step toward the base gate, her back slender and fragile, yet radiating stubbornness and loneliness.
Clifton stood in place, both hands clenched into tight fists, veins bulging on the backs of his hands.
He stared at that gradually retreating figure, a flash of reluctance crossing his eyes. Only his powerful self-control kept him from chasing after her.
He thought to himself.
Clifton, isn't this what you wanted?
You're the one who told her to leave. You're the one who rejected her.
So why, seeing her actually leave, seeing her depart so forlornly, was there no satisfaction from revenge in his heart at all?