FORBIDDEN

CHAPTER 18

Chapter 18

The fourth morning came with sunlight that felt too loud.

Yibo lay in bed, unmoving, his eyes wide open. He hadn't slept—not really. He'd closed his eyes. He'd tried to breathe deeply. But the images kept returning: Ren smiling in the kitchen, Ren placing his hand on Zhan's shoulder, Ren's belongings in their living room, like his presence was a permanent stain.

Down the hall, he heard the soft clinking of utensils, then the annoying hum of someone who thought they were welcome.

Ren.

Yibo stared at the ceiling. His jaw ached from being clenched all night.

"Today," he muttered under his breath. "This ends today."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Zhan was already seated at the kitchen table when Yibo emerged. His eyes lit up slightly—automatically—when he saw him.

"Morning," Zhan greeted, holding out a cup of milk.

Yibo took it wordlessly. He didn't sit.

Ren turned from the stove with a beaming smile, like a parasite too proud of its infestation. He wore an apron. Yibo's apron. He waved a spatula in mock salute.

"Good morning, sunshine! I hope you're ready for breakfast—I made your favorite!"

Yibo blinked once. "You don't know my favorite."

Ren chuckled like it was a joke.

Zhan intervened lightly, "He made tomato egg stir-fry and congee. It's... simple, but it's good."

Yibo's stare lingered on Ren. "Where's the pan I used for rice?"

"Oh. I put it in the bottom drawer. I reorganized a bit yesterday—it was chaotic." Ren's tone was casual, dismissive, as if he were doing them both a favor.

"You went through our kitchen?"

Ren raised his hands. "It was just a mess, Yibo. You barely even cook—figured I'd make things easier."

There it was. The trigger.

Yibo's voice remained calm, but it dropped in temperature. "You figured?"

"Yibo—" Zhan tried gently.

Yibo ignored him. He stepped forward, slowly, like a storm brewing in silence. "You come into our home. You sleep in our guest room. You use my hoodie, my apron, my pan, touch our things. And now you're telling me how to live in my own space because I can't cook?"

Ren's smile faltered, the mask slipping for just a second. "I was just helping—"

"I didn't ask for your help."

Silence snapped into the room.

Zhan stood now, uncertain. "Yibo, maybe just—"

"Do you like it?" Yibo's eyes flicked to him.

"What?"

"Do you like having him here?" His voice cracked slightly—not with weakness, but with something breaking inside. "Because I don't."

Zhan's mouth opened. No words came.

Ren set down the spatula slowly. "Okay... I think tensions are high. Maybe we should all take a second to—"

"No. You should leave." Yibo's voice was clear. "You were supposed to be here one night. It's been three. You've overstepped."

"Zhan invited me."

"He invited you once. You stayed. That's on you."

Ren glanced at Zhan. "Are you really okay with this?"

Yibo cut in. "Don't look at him. Look at me. I'm not okay with this."

Zhan finally found his voice. "Yibo—maybe you're blowing this up—"

"No," Yibo snapped. "I've been silent. I've been patient. I watched you laugh with him. I watched him walk around like he belonged here. I pretended it didn't bother me. But it does. It fucking does."

Ren looked uncomfortable now, fidgeting. "If you have trust issues, that's not my fault."

Yibo laughed once. Cold. "You think this is about trust?"

"You're acting like a jealous ex—"

Yibo took a step forward. Zhan immediately moved between them.

"Stop," Zhan said firmly.

Yibo's chest was heaving now. "You don't get to come into my own apartment and insult me."

Ren backed off, palms raised. "Fine. I'll pack my stuff."

"Good."

Zhan looked between them, his face pale. "This isn't how I wanted it to go."

Yibo turned to him slowly. "You knew what this was doing to me. You saw it. You just didn't want to deal with it."

"That's not fair."

"Isn't it?" Yibo whispered. "You let him stay. You laughed with him. You told me I was imagining things. You asked me to pretend like it was normal."

Zhan didn't answer.

Yibo's hands curled into fists. "You didn't stand up for me."

Zhan's lips parted, guilt spreading across his face, but he had no words.

Ren reappeared in the doorway with his bag slung over one shoulder. "I'll go."

"Finally," Yibo muttered.

As Ren passed them, he paused briefly near Zhan. "Sorry for the mess," he said, then shot Yibo a look that wasn't sorry at all.

The door closed behind him with a final thud.

The silence afterward was heavier than Ren's presence.

Zhan stood there, motionless. Yibo remained by the table, arms crossed, his chest still rising and falling fast.

"I didn't mean for this to happen like that," Zhan said at last.

Yibo didn't look at him. "But it did."

"I just... wanted to help him. I didn't realize—"

"You didn't want to realize."

Zhan winced. "Yibo—"

"I don't care if you were once close. I don't care about your history. But I do care that you let him walk all over me in our space. That you let him test me, disrespect me. And you said nothing."

"I didn't think he was—"

"Because you didn't look hard enough."

Zhan went silent again. His eyes dropped to the floor.

Yibo turned away. "I need air."

He left the apartment without another word.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The elevator ride down was quiet, but Yibo's mind screamed. Not from rage anymore—but from exhaustion. From hurt. From everything he'd swallowed to keep the peace. He stepped into the street and let the sun hit his face.

For once, the light didn't feel too loud. It felt clean.

END OF CHAPTER  18.