Chapter 90 Chapter 90. Roses, Shadows, and Lies
"Do you want to play anything else?" Zephyr asked.
Zoria lifted her gaze and stared fixedly at the towering roller coaster. Zephyr thought she wanted to ride it and softened his voice. "Your body hasn’t recovered yet. You can’t go on that. When you’re fully better, I’ll take you."
Zoria glanced at him. The icy look in her eyes sent a chill up his spine. In that instant, Zephyr understood—she did not want to ride the roller coaster. She wanted to die.
Zephyr pressed his lips together. He had brought her to the amusement park hoping to lift her spirits, but it seemed to have backfired. They had not even finished three quarters of the park before Zoria was utterly exhausted. He changed plans and took her straight to the cinema. The movie was not even halfway through when Zoria fell asleep from sheer fatigue.
Zephyr turned to look at her. Zoria was more beautiful asleep than at any other time. Unable to resist, he stood up, bent down, brushed aside the hair from her forehead, and gently kissed her there.
Throughout the screening, neither of them truly watched the film. When Zoria woke up, she found herself already in the car. The heater was set just right, filling her body with a comfortable warmth.
Zephyr spoke softly. "We’re going to eat now."
The restaurant was brightly lit and luxurious. Outside the glass walls on the first floor was a fountain; brilliant lights shone onto the columns of water, breathtakingly beautiful. Zoria tilted her head, staring at the fountain, momentarily lost, and then, without meaning to, she thought of Lysander again.
Zephyr gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "What do you want to eat?"
Zoria pulled her gaze away from the fountain and looked into Zephyr’s pale violet eyes, then reached for the bottle of red wine.
Zephyr stopped her at once. "Your health is still very weak. You can’t drink."
Resting her chin on her hand, Zoria laughed. "Since when do you care about my health? Are you afraid I’ll die before you do?"
"Don’t say things like that."
Zoria cut a piece of steak and put it into her mouth, speaking softly. "Relax. Before you die, I won’t."
In that moment, Zephyr suddenly felt that it was fine if Zoria hated him. At least she would not be so determined to die. As long as he was still alive, Zoria would stay alive too.
Halfway through the meal, a server came over carrying a bouquet of roses. “Excuse me, miss, these flowers are for you.”
Zoria curled her lips and casually took the bouquet. Candlelit dinner, roses on the table—since when had Zephyr become so romantic?
She plucked out a rose at random and crushed it right in front of Zephyr. “Did I ever tell you that the thing I hate most is roses?”
Roses were just like Zephyr—beautiful on the outside, but covered in thorns from head to toe.
Zephyr frowned deeply, a hard-to-read emotion flickering in his eyes. He had not arranged this bouquet. Petals fell in tatters across the floor, and then Zoria tossed the entire bouquet straight into the trash.
……
On the second floor of the restaurant, Lysander lit a cigarette and leaned against the railing, looking down at the couple on the level below. His golden eyes gleamed with interest, thin smoke curling around him, lending him a wicked air, like a demon stepping out of hell.
When he saw Zoria throw the flowers away, Lysander paused for a moment, then flicked the ash from his cigarette. Gray ash mixed with golden sparks fell to the ground.
“Sir, smoking isn’t allowed here,” a waitress stepped forward and reminded him softly.
Lysander lifted his gaze. A dark, unsettling expression rested on his face. He took another slow drag without a care, then smiled at the waitress, who was blushing furiously.
“I know,” he said. With a snap of his fingers, he crushed the cigarette out.
Deliberately, Lysander exhaled a hazy, suggestive stream of smoke toward her. “Satisfied now?”
The waitress stared at him blankly, her ears quietly turning red, and nodded again and again in a fluster.
Lysander tossed the cigarette butt into the trash, glanced at Zephyr and Zoria for a few more seconds, chuckled softly, then turned and left. Only after he was gone did the waitress notice the ashes scattered on the floor. She rummaged for tissues in her pocket, squatted down to wipe the tiles, and couldn’t help thinking as she cleaned: that male was absurdly handsome.
A vague sense of unease rose in Zephyr’s chest. He did not need to guess—he knew the one who had sent the flowers to Zoria was Lysander.
After the meal, the server came over again with a gift box. Zephyr smiled, took it, and set it in front of Zoria. “This is for you.”
Zoria stared at the box in silence, not reaching for it. After a moment, the box shifted slightly. Zephyr’s smile grew brighter as he lifted the lid himself.
The moment the box opened, a puppy’s head poked out. Zoria’s gaze trembled, and her nose suddenly stung. The dog looked so much like Bunny.
Zephyr lowered his eyes, watching the brief spark of light in Zoria’s. His voice was hoarse as he asked, “Do you like it?”
Zoria shifted her gaze from the puppy to Zephyr. His reflection was clearly mirrored in her bright eyes. Zephyr hugged the box, looking a little awkward. His heart hammered wildly, as if it might leap out of his chest.
Zoria opened her mouth, her voice stiff. “Throw it away.”
The heart that Zephyr had been holding aloft seemed to plunge straight into the abyss. He smiled bitterly. “It took me a long time to find this one. Don’t you think it looks a lot like Bunny?”
“Even if it were an exact copy of Bunny, it still wouldn’t be Bunny.”
Zephyr dragged too many ugly memories back into her mind. A small, lively golden-furred puppy. The moment it saw the light, it sniffed curiously at everything, blinking its black, bean-like eyes at Zoria before opening its mouth and sticking out its tongue.