Chapter 53 Misunderstanding

Chapter 53 Misunderstanding

But the difference in strength between men and women was too great—her resistance was nothing.

With his rough movements, the buttons of her cashmere coat were torn open. Under the loose white shirt, the purple bruises near her collarbone from being grabbed and the scrapes on her arms were completely exposed to the air.

And exposed to Shane's eyes as he returned from buying breakfast.

He stood in the entryway, still holding steaming coffee and donuts, staring at the chaotic and jarring scene before him.

His woman, wearing his shirt, being grabbed tightly by another man, disheveled, covered in injuries.

The air seemed to freeze in that moment.

The expression on Shane's face shifted at a visible speed from shock to icy coldness.

The last bit of warmth in his eyes disappeared completely, replaced by a chill cold enough to freeze someone and a churning darkness.

He said nothing, just slammed the breakfast heavily onto the entryway table, turned around, and strode back to his room.

"BANG—"

A loud crash as the heavy door was slammed shut, shaking the entire apartment and completely cutting off two worlds.

Monica's blood ran cold.

He had misunderstood.

She shoved Ryan away and, without bothering about her disheveled clothes, chased after Shane barefoot, desperately pounding on the closed door.

"Shane, open the door! Let me explain! It's not what you think!"

Inside, deathly silence.

Ryan watched her looking so lost and desperate, feeling both heartbroken and frustrated.

He shouted through the door irritably, "Shane, we're inviting Monica to Disneyland, are you coming or not?!"

Still no response from inside.

"Come on, forget about him!" Ryan couldn't take it anymore and grabbed Monica's wrist, forcibly dragging her away.

"I'm not leaving!" Monica struggled desperately, looking back repeatedly at the closed door, her eyes full of pleading. "Let go of me, I need to explain to him..."

Her voice was choked with tears, but Ryan was determined to pull her away from this painful mess.

Dragged all the way to the apartment door, Monica used all her strength to shake off his hand and stood stubbornly in place, shaking her head. "I'm not going. You guys go. I want to be alone."

"Be alone? And then wait for him to come out?" Ryan was so angry he spoke without thinking. He gripped her tightly, refusing to let go, his bloodshot eyes full of pain. "Monica, calm down! Stop falling for him again! Have you forgotten what you did to him five years ago?!"

His voice was low but cutting like a knife.

"The gap between you two is too big. If you fall again, it'll destroy you. Don't you understand?!"

Monica trembled at his shouting, her face deathly pale.

How could she not understand?

But what good did understanding do?

She fell silent, stopped struggling, and let him and Violet drag her toward the elevator.

The elevator doors slowly closed, reflecting her devastated face on the metal walls.

Just as the gap was about to close completely, Monica suddenly seemed to wake up, broke free from their grip, and squeezed through the less-than-ten-centimeter opening.

"Monica!" Violet cried out.

The elevator doors closed, cutting off their view.

Ryan frantically pressed the open button, but the elevator had already started descending. He could only shout through the door at that slender figure, "Monica, get back here! Have you lost your mind?!"

Monica stood with her back to the elevator doors, not turning around.

She raised her hand, gently wiping the tears from her cheek, her voice as soft as a sigh yet carrying a kind of resolute determination.

"Yeah," she admitted, "I lost my mind a long time ago."

For him, she'd gone crazy once five years ago, leaving without looking back.

Five years later, going crazy again, willingly staying.

She turned around and walked back to the closed door.

She couldn't let him continue misunderstanding. Absolutely not.

She raised her hand, fingertips turning white from the pressure, and knocked on the door again.

Inside, still deathly silence.

Monica's heart sank bit by bit. She pressed her forehead lightly against the cold door, as if drawing strength from it.

"Shane," she began, her voice soft, carrying a barely noticeable tremor and hesitation, "are we... still going to Disneyland?"

As soon as she finished speaking, a response finally came from inside.

"No."

Two short words, cold as ice picks, piercing mercilessly into her heart.

Monica's eyes immediately reddened.

Grievances welled up inside her. She hadn't done anything wrong, yet had to bear his baseless anger.

But then, she slowly calmed down.

This man, when jealous, was completely unreasonable, domineering and childish. The scene he'd just witnessed—if she'd seen the same thing, she probably would've blown the roof off.

Thinking this way, the grievance in her heart strangely dissipated somewhat, replaced by a helpless mix of laughter and tears.

She sniffled, suppressing her emotions, softening her voice with a hint of pleading, and said quietly through the door, "But we already bought the tickets. It'd be such a waste not to go."

No movement inside.

She pressed on, her voice taking on a coaxing tone she didn't even notice herself, "I already changed my clothes and did my makeup. You can't let all that effort go to waste, right?"

Still no movement inside.

Monica felt a bit deflated. She leaned against the door and slowly slid down to sit on the floor, hugging her knees, resting her chin on them like a kitten locked out by its owner.

"Shane, be reasonable, okay?" she said dully, her voice thick with tears. "Ryan and the others came suddenly. I had no idea. He saw my injuries and got worried, so he was a bit rough. We have nothing going on."

"If you don't believe me, you can ask him yourself."

"I didn't leave with them because I didn't want to go. I only wanted... only wanted to go with you."

That last sentence came out soft and quick, as if afraid someone might hear, yet every word clearly penetrated the heavy door and reached the man's ears.

Long silence inside the room.

Just when Monica thought he'd really decided to ignore her and was about to give up, there was a soft "click" from the lock.

The door opened a crack from inside.

Shane stood behind the door, still wearing his dark loungewear, his face still dark enough to drip water, but in those bloodshot eyes from staying up all night, the raging fury had receded somewhat, leaving only cold gloom.

He looked down at her curled up by the door, his lips pressed into a tight line.

"Why didn't you leave with them?" he asked, his voice hoarse, like an interrogation.

Monica looked up, meeting his heavy gaze, and answered seriously, word by word, "Because I made plans with you first. I keep my word."