Love Rivals: The Day I Saw Your Tears

81. Destroy The Image I Have Built

I took a deep breath, trying to keep my frustration in check. "It’s not that I don’t want the divorce," I started, choosing my words carefully, "but right now, it’s more important that you come home. Mom needs you there, and you know I never go against my parents."

Sarah’s gaze turned colder, her lips curving into a bitter smile. "That’s exactly why I’m not going," she replied, her voice dripping with defiance. "I won’t give you the satisfaction of being the perfect, dutiful son in front of your parents. I’ll destroy that image you’ve worked so hard to build."

I pushed past the rising anger. Stepping closer, I locked eyes with her. "I’m asking you one last time, Sarah. Are you coming with me or not?"

She didn’t even hesitate, her eyes challenging me. "Not a chance," she said flatly, her tone making it clear there was no room for discussion.

I slowly loosened my tie, keeping my eyes on Sarah. Her expression shifted from confusion to alarm as she watched me. Without warning, I grabbed her wrists, gently but firmly, and wrapped the tie around them, binding her hands together.

“What the hell are you doing?” she exclaimed, her voice rising in shock as she tried to pull away. “Hey! Stop!”

A smirk tugged at the corners of my lips as her anxiety grew, her frantic movements only adding to the moment’s thrill. Her constant protests, the way she kept trying to wriggle out of my grasp -- it was all too amusing. I pulled out my handkerchief from my pocket and swiftly covered her mouth, muffling her words. Her eyes widened in disbelief, and she shook her head vigorously, her body jerking as she struggled to free herself.

I gently guided her toward the car. Opening  the passenger door, I pushed her inside, securing her in the seat next to me. She shot me furious glares, still writhing in her seat as I calmly buckled her in.

Before I started the car, I reached for my phone, catching her off-guard as I snapped a picture of her—tied up, her mouth covered, her eyes blazing with anger.

I cleared my throat and began, "I'm sorry, Sarah. I should have stood up for you. I know how my dad can be, and I’ve grown used to him, but I should’ve considered your feelings too." I paused for a moment, then added with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood, "But, you know, I really enjoyed when people said you were head over heels for me. That feeling of supremacy? It’s legendary."

She made muffled noises, clearly frustrated, as her mouth was still covered by the handkerchief. I loosened it and pulled it off, giving her the freedom to speak. Her first reaction was to hit me on the shoulder, not too hard, but enough to let me know she was irritated. Then she just stared at me for a moment, her expression unreadable.

“What?” I asked, feeling slightly uneasy under her gaze.

She sighed, then said, “Your dad is harsh, but your mom... she’s really sweet. I get why you kept silent. You’re not some spoiled rich brat flaunting your dad’s money. You don’t have that luxury, and I understand that. I used to argue with my parents too, but I never went against them. So, I get it.”

Her words hit me in a way I hadn’t expected. It was like a strange sense of relief washed over me, but at the same time, it left me feeling anxious. Why wasn’t she mad at me? I had anticipated anger or disappointment, but none of that showed.

“Wait, you’re not angry at me?” I asked, a bit incredulously.

She shrugged. “No. Why would I be mad at you?”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “That’s... a relief. I thought for sure you’d be upset.” I paused for a moment, then asked, “But, if you weren’t mad, why didn’t you call me?”

She looked at me with a raised brow and said, “Why would I call you? You didn’t bother reaching out either.”

A smile tugged on my lips.

She smiled to herself, glancing away as if trying to hide her amusement.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her sudden shift in mood.

She shook her head, still smiling. “It’s just… hard to believe this is really you, Ryan. You, of all people.”

I raised an eyebrow, unsure of what she was hinting at. “What do you mean?” I asked, and then I saw her lift her tied hands as a reminder.

“Oh, right," I muttered, immediately untying her wrists. "Sorry about that."

As soon as she was free, she stretched her arms out, flexing her fingers. “You know," she said, her voice teasing, "using your tie to tie me up? That was like something out of a movie. Very heroic of you.”

Her eyes were fixed on me, and I could feel her gaze like a heat pressing down. The more she stared, the more it made me squirm, though I tried to hide it. “Alright, stop staring at me like that,” I said, attempting to sound more confident than I felt.