Chapter 125
The Next Day
Trees lining the street swayed gently in the morning breeze, their leaves still dotted with dew from the night before.
Sherry's lashes fluttered a few times before her eyes opened, still hazy with sleep.
The next moment.
As if suddenly remembering something, Sherry bolted upright in bed.
She didn't even bother with slippers—barefoot, she ran straight to Jack's room.
"Jack?"
She called out softly as she pushed open the half-closed wooden door.
But the room was silent. No one answered.
What greeted her was a bed made with military precision.
The comforter was folded into perfect squares, the pillow lay flat at the headboard, and even the wrinkles in the sheets had been smoothed out—as if no one had ever slept there at all.
No jacket draped over the chair. The faint scent of tobacco that always clung to Jack had completely faded from the air.
He was gone.
The realization hit her like a sledgehammer to the chest.
Tears came instantly, bursting through the dam without warning.
She stood frozen in the doorway, hands clutching the hem of her pajamas so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Her vision blurred as fat tears rolled down her cheeks and splattered on the floor, spreading into small dark stains.
Again...
He left without saying goodbye again?
Was she really just someone he could abandon at any moment?
Hurt, loss, and an indescribable ache twisted together, rising as a sob she couldn't suppress.
Sherry walked slowly to the bed. Her legs gave out, and she sank heavily to the floor on her knees.
She buried her face deep into the bedding that smelled faintly of fresh laundry detergent, desperate to find even the slightest trace of his warmth.
But there was nothing.
Nothing left at all.
"Liar..."
She bit her lip until it turned white, her tears quickly soaking the pillowcase.
In the quiet morning, only her stifled sobs echoed through the empty room, over and over again.
---
Just then.
The sound of a door opening broke the silence.
The sudden noise was jarring in the stillness of the morning.
Sherry froze. The next moment, she scrambled out and ran to the main hall. Looking up toward the entrance, she saw him.
Jack stood in the foyer, arms loaded with bags.
Hearing her approach, Jack looked up—and saw Sherry, barefoot, tears streaming down her face.
"Where... where did you go?"
---
Seeing Jack standing there, returned, Sherry's voice trembled—a quaver even she didn't notice.
"We were out of food, so I went to the store to pick up some things," Jack said.
"What's wrong?"
---
A rush of fragrance hit him.
Before Jack could react, Sherry threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him in a death grip.
The sudden impact made Jack stumble back half a step, plastic bags rustling in his hands.
He looked down at Sherry clinging to him, her face buried against his chest, shoulders still trembling slightly. Her warm breath seeped through the thin fabric of his shirt, melting something inside him.
"Sherry... what's wrong?"
Jack's voice softened instinctively, as if afraid of breaking something fragile.
He freed one hand and gently stroked the back of her head, fingers threading through her tousled hair in slow, soothing motions.
Sherry didn't answer. She only held him tighter, as if trying to merge herself into his body. Her tears smeared against his shirt, leaving a small damp patch.
Jack fell silent for a few seconds, then slowly bent down and set all the bags on the floor.
Then he wrapped both arms around her.
Finally, Sherry's voice emerged.
"I thought you left. I thought you... didn't want me anymore."
The words struck something deep inside Jack.
A sharp, aching twist—painful in its intensity.
He pulled her tighter into his arms, resting his chin on the top of her head, and murmured softly, "Don't worry. I'm not going to leave you."
His voice was low and firm, laced with undeniable tenderness.
Sherry remained buried in his embrace, silent tears streaming down her face.
After a while, she finally lifted her head to look at Jack. Her eyes were red-rimmed.
The next moment.
Sherry suddenly rose on her toes, her fiery red lips claiming his in an aggressive, demanding kiss.
No hesitation. No testing the waters.
She poured all her hurt and the wild relief of having him back into that kiss—a blazing fire that consumed Jack entirely.
It was almost predatory, as if she wanted to brand him into the depths of her soul, never giving him another chance to escape.
Jack froze in place, his mind going blank.
He clearly hadn't expected the woman who'd been crying like a lost child just moments ago to suddenly unleash such overwhelming force.
Her lips were soft and scorching, carrying the faint salty taste of tears yet laced with an intoxicating sweetness and dominance.
That aggressive energy ignited the desire he'd been suppressing deep inside.
---
Jack let out a low groan, his arms tightening around her waist as he pressed her hard against the foyer wall. He was no longer passive—he took control, deepening the kiss.
His movements carried urgency and a hint of punishment as his tongue forced past her lips, claiming every inch of sweetness inside her mouth.
The foyer fell silent except for their ragged breathing and the intimate sounds of their lips and tongues tangling together.
It wasn't until Sherry felt like all the air had been wrung from her lungs, her body going limp, that Jack reluctantly released her.
Their foreheads pressed together, chests heaving.
Sherry's eyes were hazy, her once-pale cheeks now flushed a captivating pink. Her gaze looked like rain-washed peach blossoms—naturally seductive.
Jack stared at her, his Adam's apple bobbing hard.
He lifted his hand, rough fingertips brushing over her swollen, reddened lips. His voice was hoarse:
"Are you trying to devour me?"
Sherry was still panting, her hands gripping his shirt collar tightly.
She tilted her head up, meeting his deep gaze without flinching. A flash of mischief and stubbornness lit her eyes.
"That's right. I want to devour you... right now."
With that, Sherry's hands moved over Jack's body, swiftly pulling his clothes off...