Chapter 98 Forgetting
Bianca lowered her gaze, the corner of her mouth curling into a cold, deliberate smile. Blair's threats barely registered. Academic misconduct alone wasn't enough to bring Blair down for good. Bianca needed something sharper, something fatal—evidence that would end Blair's game forever.
Only then would Blair stop stalking Jasmine like prey. Only then would her threats lose their teeth.
Without hesitation, Bianca ended the call. The screen went dark, reflecting her own still expression. Her fingertips tapped absently against the glass as she stared at the black mirror.
She closed her eyes, running through scenario after scenario in her head, searching for the perfect strike—the kind that left no way back.
By the time she opened them again, the light outside had faded into deepening dusk.
The classroom was silent except for the faint scratch of her pen earlier. She sat alone in the far corner, her notebook spread open, pages crammed with tight, purposeful handwriting. Her neck ached. She rubbed it absently, then shut the notebook and stood.
Outside, the campus was draped in night. Her steps were unhurried, her mind still turning over possibilities, but an uneasy chill slid under her skin. She couldn't name it.
She shook her head, trying to shake the feeling off.
At the apartment entrance, the warm amber light from the hallway stretched her shadow across the floor. Inside, only a single floor lamp by the sofa was lit. Its muted glow fell over Terrence, seated dead center on the leather couch, his back straight, his presence heavy with a silence that pressed into the air.
Smoke curled lazily in the dimness. The cigarette between his fingers had burned to the filter, the heat biting his skin before he blinked back into the moment and crushed it into the crystal ashtray.
His eyes lifted toward the doorway. The front door stood open, letting in a draft of cold air. A familiar figure stood there.
"You're back," Terrence said, his voice low and rough. No accusation. No anger.
Normally, Bianca would have flipped on the lights the moment she walked in, flooding the room with brightness. This time, something in her chest tightened, holding her hand back from the switch.
She drew in a slow breath, a thousand thoughts flashing through her mind before collapsing into a single, quiet reply.
"Mm. Why are the lights off?"
"Forgot."
His tone was calm, but beneath it was something heavier—disappointment, restrained emotion, the kind that cuts deeper than rage.
After a beat, Bianca finally pressed the switch.
The sudden light was almost too bright, making them both blink. On the coffee table sat a velvet ring box, its surface catching the light with a cold glint.
Her hands froze mid-motion as she changed her shoes. Her chest constricted, panic rising like a tide.
She kicked them off entirely, stepping barefoot toward him.
In the light, Terrence's eyes were clearer than she wanted them to be—anger, hurt, worry... and something else she couldn't name, buried deep, locked tight.
Her throat tightened.
She pictured him canceling work, sitting here alone in the dim room. What should have been a moment worth anticipating had stretched into hours of waiting. From initial confusion, to concern, to final numbness. All of it, he had endured in silence.
And she—she hadn't remembered their promise until she saw the ring box.
Guilt twisted in her gut, tangled with a sharp ache for him. She couldn't imagine the weight of those long hours.
"I'm sorry." Her voice trembled. She knelt in front of him, reaching for his face, then hesitating, her hand suspended in the air. "Jasmine was locked in the old teaching building. I was so furious I forgot... I forgot what we planned."
"She's in the room. Do you want to go comfort her?" His voice stayed even, almost casual.
Bianca's breath caught. This wasn't the reaction she'd braced for. She'd expected him to be angry, to scold her—anything but this detached calm.
Her hands moved instinctively, gripping his. The coldness of his skin shocked her, made her clutch tighter.
"I'm sorry."
Her mouth felt parched, the words rasping out of her throat. She couldn't string more together.
Above her, he sighed quietly. He pulled his hand free, and in her startled gaze, touched her cheek.
"Why apologize? I should understand you, shouldn't I?"
Her pulse jumped. A tear slid down her face, catching on his thumb.
Feeling the wetness, his fingers trembled slightly before brushing the corner of her eye.
"Why are you crying?"
His voice was softer now, his thumb stroking lightly as if to soothe. "Are you worried I'll take it out on her? I won't. You can stop worrying."
Bianca's shoulders shook. She leaned forward, pressing her lips to his, desperate to hold on to something real.
But his hands rested at her waist, steady, and then gently pushed her back.
Her eyes widened, disbelief flashing across her face.
"I don't need compensation, Bianca." His voice had dropped lower, heavier.
He looked down at her. He'd canceled an international meeting, come home hours early, prepared everything in detail. And as the sky darkened, as night settled in, all he received was a late apology.
He couldn't bring himself to blame her. But he couldn't swallow the disappointment either.
It tore at him—wanting to forgive, unable to stop the hurt. Especially knowing she had her reasons.
Because it felt like she had already placed their promise second.
The silence between them pressed in, thick, suffocating. Bianca's chest sank.
She knew. This wasn't about the missed promise. It was about him feeling like he would always come second in her life.
"No. That's not it."
His words stabbed straight into her. She looked up sharply, eyes rimmed red.
"It's not compensation," she said quickly, gripping his hand again, her palm burning against his cool skin. "It's me admitting I was wrong."
She added, "You're the most important person to me. Even if I had a reason, I should have told you. I should never have let our promise slip away. That's my fault entirely."