Chapter 271 I Am Already an Adult

Chapter 271 I Am Already an Adult

Sophia lifted her chin, her gaze unwavering.

"I'm an adult. I know exactly what I'm doing, and I know exactly what I'm saying. I like you—that's my choice, and I own my feelings."

She took a step forward, closing the distance between them to less than two feet.

"You can reject me. You can tell me you don't feel the same, that you're not interested, that there's nothing there. I can handle all of that."

Her eyes stayed locked on his face.

"But you're brushing me off with an age gap? Do you really think that's a fair response to the courage it took me to say what I just said?"

Ethan didn't answer.

The night breeze swept through from the depths of the garden, lifting a few strands of hair by Sophia's ear.

She stood there, her wine-red dress swaying gently in the light, her expression completely serious now, no trace of playfulness left—like she was discussing something that actually mattered.

Ethan's gaze rested on her face and didn't move for a long time.

"Sophia, if the problem isn't the age..."

He stopped mid-sentence.

Sophia's heart jumped. She caught that pause immediately.

"What did you just say?"

She didn't wait for him to finish.

Sophia stood on her tiptoes, clasped her hands behind Ethan's head, and kissed him.

The second her lips met his, only one clear thought filled her mind.

Whatever. I've already humiliated myself—what's one more time?

Ethan's body went rigid.

He didn't step back, but he didn't respond either.

He just stood there, letting her lips press against his, his hands hanging at his sides, his whole body frozen.

Sophia closed her eyes, her heart pounding so hard it felt like it would break through her ribs.

After about three seconds, she let go.

She stepped back, opened her eyes, and looked at him.

Ethan's face showed no obvious surprise, no anger, no embarrassment—hardly any expression at all.

He just looked at her quietly for two or three seconds, then the corner of his mouth curved up in a faint, unreadable smile before he turned and walked toward the hall.

He didn't say a word.

Sophia stood in the garden, her hand still suspended in mid-air, the cold air yanking her back to reality.

He left.

She kissed him, and he just left.

He didn't even give her a single word.

Sophia's lips moved slightly, but no sound came out.

Then she shouted at his retreating figure, already three steps away.

"Ethan!"

Ethan didn't stop.

"Do you even have emotions? Can you feel anything at all? Are you human or just some kind of machine?"

His steps slowed for a moment, but he still didn't turn around.

Sophia's voice rose two notches.

"And another thing! Your lips might as well be made of stone. You're a terrible kisser. Worst I've ever had, hands down."

She actually hadn't kissed that many people.

But that detail was completely irrelevant right now.

Ethan's figure disappeared around the corner of the garden.

Sophia's hand slowly dropped, but her knuckles tightened into a fist.

She took a deep breath, then slowly let it out.

Her eyes stung, but she didn't let the tears fall.

She turned around, ready to walk toward the other side of the garden, then suddenly froze.

Ethan was standing at the garden entrance.

He had one hand extended at his side, his expression no different from usual, looking as calm as ever.

No telling how long he'd been standing there.

Sophia's face instantly burned, like she'd been caught in the act.

"You... you heard everything?"

Ethan nodded slightly.

Sophia's legs went weak, and she crouched down right there on the ground.

She buried her face in her hands, not making a sound.

She sniffled, her voice muffled against her palms.

"Are you here to get back at me?"

"Get back at you for what? Revoking your kissing privileges?"

Sophia looked up and glared at him, her eyes filled with both fury and mortification.

Ethan bent down, wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and helped her up.

"Let's go inside. Don't stand out here freezing, silly girl."

In the center of the dance floor.

When Abigail turned around, the person standing in front of her had changed.

Chris extended his right hand, palm up, standing quietly before her.

Abigail glanced back—Sophia had already pulled Ethan to the other side of the dance floor.

She took a deep breath and placed her hand in Chris's palm.

Chris's fingers closed around hers, holding her hand.

His grip was controlled, his palm warm and steady.

The two began moving with the music. Chris's steps were confident, his lead natural—not deliberately slowed down like Ethan's had been.

Neither of them spoke for the first few steps.

The silence stretched a bit too long, making things slightly awkward.

"You dance pretty well." Chris broke the silence first.

Abigail smiled. "It's because you lead well."

"Who taught you?"

"A college elective," she answered. "I took a semester of ballroom dancing—the teacher basically dragged me through it."

Chris glanced down at her footwork.

"Mm, I can tell. Your fundamentals are solid."

Abigail looked up at him. "Are you complimenting me or scoring me like a judge?"

The corner of Chris's mouth curved up. "I'll give you an eight for now."

"Only an eight?"

"I'll add the other two points when you stop stepping on my feet."

Abigail looked down and realized her left foot had indeed just grazed his shoe.

"...Sorry."

"It's fine." Chris smiled. "These shoes can take it."

The music continued flowing, the rhythm slowly building. The atmosphere between them relaxed compared to before, no longer so tense.

Chris led her through the final turn.

The song ended, the strings' final notes drawing out long before finally stopping. People on the dance floor gradually dispersed.

Abigail released Chris's hand and stepped back.

"Thank you."

Chris put his hand back in his pocket and nodded.

"You're welcome."

Abigail turned, ready to walk toward where Ethan was.

The instant she turned, her gaze swept across the edge of the hall near the side door.

Behind the crowd, where the light didn't quite reach, there was a figure in a dark gray suit, his tie perfectly knotted, standing perfectly still.

Matthew.

Abigail's steps paused for less than a second.

Her expression didn't change noticeably, and her gaze didn't linger.

But in that brief second, Chris saw the shift in her eyes.

He looked in the direction she'd just been looking.

The crowd had already blocked that corner again—nothing was visible.

"Abigail."

Abigail withdrew her gaze and looked at him.

"What were you just looking at?"

"Nothing."

Chris looked into her eyes.

Her expression was calm—calm like she was making ordinary small talk at a dance, but he knew her too well. He knew this kind of calm was deliberate, not natural.

"Was that your ex-husband you just saw? You're not still—"

"Chris." Abigail cut him off. "He and I are finished."

Chris didn't respond immediately.

"It ended a long time ago," she continued. "Anything related to him, good or bad, has nothing to do with who I am now."

Chris looked at her, silent for about three seconds.

"Okay."

He didn't push.

On the other side of the hall.

Sawyer sat in an armchair, his gaze fixed on the side door.

He'd noticed early on.

Matthew had been standing there since Abigail came down the stairs, never leaving, always standing in that small patch of shadow just beyond the light.

He watched his grandson standing at the edge of view, hands in his pockets, back straight, like he was forcing himself to keep it together—but those eyes were already visibly red.

Sawyer slowly gripped the armrest and stood up.

Ryder immediately reached out to support him.

"Mr. Gonzalez?"

Sawyer didn't respond. He walked straight toward the side door.

When he reached Matthew, Matthew was still looking toward the dance floor.

Abigail had already walked over to Sophia's side, the two of them laughing and talking.

"Matthew."

Matthew snapped back to attention. Seeing Sawyer, his body went rigid.

"Grandpa."