Love Rivals: The Day I Saw Your Tears

82. Like A Ragdoll

(Sarah's Pov)

I tilted my head, my grin widening. “Why? Are you nervous?” I teased, my tone light but clearly enjoying his discomfort.

He smirked, “If you keep pushing, you’re going to regret it,” he warned.

I leaned back, arms crossed, giving him a defiant look. “Oh really?” I challenged, raising an eyebrow. “And what exactly are you going to do about it?”

Without another word, he pulled the car over to the side of the road, unclipped his seatbelt, and in one swift motion, leaned over, closing the distance between us. Our faces were mere inches apart, my eyes wide with surprise as he held my gaze, his voice dropping to a deep, almost whispering tone.

“Now, Sarah,” he said slowly, his eyes not leaving mine, “who’s getting butterflies?”

For a second, I couldn't say anything, my  breath caught in my throat as my heartbeat went wild.

His fingers brushed lightly against my skin, sending a ripple of goosebumps down my arms as he carefully tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. My heart felt like it was lodged in my throat, and I could feel the knot tightening in my stomach. I swallowed hard, trying to steady my breathing.

Then, in a low, husky tone that was barely a whisper, he leaned in closer and said, "You shouldn’t try to play with me... got it?"

For a moment, I couldn’t move or respond, caught in the intensity of his gaze. And then, just as swiftly, he pulled back, settling into his seat as though nothing had happened. He clicked his seatbelt into place and started driving again, as if the moment between us hadn’t left me completely shaken.

I turned towards the window, needing an escape. I pressed the button and let the window slide down, the cool air rushing in to calm my frayed nerves. I breathed in deeply, willing the fresh air to ease the fluttering in my chest.

“I want to go home,” I said, my voice betraying only a fraction of the anxiety still bubbling inside me.

He didn’t glance my way, just kept his eyes on the road as he replied, “We’re heading to your house.”

For a split second, irrational thoughts clouded my mind. What if he suddenly changed his mind? What if, like those intense, overbearing characters in TV dramas, he decided to take me somewhere else -- maybe even to his place? But as I watched him, steady and calm behind the wheel, I realized how ridiculous the idea was. He wasn’t that kind of guy. Yet, despite knowing that, a small part of me still wondered. Perhaps I was letting my imagination run wild, chasing impossible scenarios like I always did.

Without realizing it, I had dozed off in the car. When I finally opened my eyes, the first thing I did was glance at the time. My stomach dropped—far too much time had passed. We should’ve been home by now.

Sitting up, I frowned and asked, my voice tinged with suspicion, “By now, we should be home already. Why aren’t we there yet?”

He didn’t even look at me, his gaze steady on the road, his expression completely unreadable. “We’ve already been there,” he said, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. “You were asleep, so I didn’t wake you. Now, we’re heading to our house.”

A jolt of panic shot through me. My heart skipped a beat, and I sat up straighter. “What? Wait... why didn’t you wake me up? And why are we going to your house?”

He kept driving, unfazed by my rising concern. “Your dad gave his approval. We’re going to my place now.”

I blinked, completely thrown off by his words. “Approval? What are you talking about? That doesn’t even make sense. Take me home, now!" My voice cracked with frustration. "Otherwise, I’ll jump out of this car, I swear.”

Finally, he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, a smirk playing on his lips. His voice dropped to that teasing tone again, “Oh, really? You want to be tied up with my tie again?”

I glared at him. My heart raced faster, caught between the frustration of his teasing and the confusing situation I had suddenly found myself in.

I quickly dialed my mom’s number, the ringing feeling longer than usual.

As soon as she picked up, I blurted out, “Maa, Ryan—”

But before I could even finish, Mom calmly interrupted, “Yes, dear. He came here earlier. He told us you fell asleep in the car, and he didn’t want to disturb you. He apologized and asked for permission to take you with him.” Her tone was so casual, as if this was a perfectly normal situation. “Your dad gave him permission. After all, that’s your home now with Ryan. Just take care, alright?”

Her words hit me like a brick wall. I stared blankly out of the window, the phone still pressed to my ear. My heart sank deeper with every second. It was like I was being passed around without a say, a toy handed from one person to another. First, Ryan’s dad had insulted me, then my own father scolded me for being irresponsible. And now, I was being sent back to Ryan’s house, as if that was just the natural course of things.

No one had asked me what I wanted. No one had bothered to see how I felt. It was as if my feelings didn’t matter, like a pawn in a game of chess that everybody wished it to be discarded.