EVERGLOW

XII. When he plays dirty

Choosing this for the venue was in bad taste, but there was no help for it.

He had been expecting her message but when he finally received the request to meet, still he'd gone numb with dread. He let her set everything – date, time and place. That was how, one late afternoon, he found himself in the same room where she had convinced him a long time ago to agree to marriage.

Meeting in a public place was out of the question. Neither of them wanted an audience for this particular reunion. The public was already watching out for such occasion ever since her airport photos surfaced.

But neither wanted the other to invade any personal space. She didn't offer her hotel room. And he didn't offer his apartment. Which was just as well. They both would have refused. The agency headquarters was the only logical, and neutral, choice.

He had no idea what excuse Yue gave about why they needed the place, but it didn't really matter. She was still an artist under contract of TTA. It was his agreement with Madame Zhu that gave her leeway to take the lengthy break from acting. Until now, he couldn't decide if that was pure genius on his part, or plain stupidity. He'd unknowingly made sure there was one less reason for her to stay.

His jean-clad leg bounced as he waited for her, his fingertips tapping out an impatient rhythm on the long woden table. It was still 3 minutes before their agreed time. He wished he wasn't so early.

He jumped to his feet and whirled around when he heard the door open and click shut. And he felt the blood rush to his head. Every single nerve ending came alive. Every breath became the only marker for the passing seconds.

She stood at the doorway staring at him calmly. So composed in a white oversized cable-knit sweater that swallowed her small frame, black skirt and flat boots. Her long hair was swept back in a bun and her face was bare. She looked as beautiful as ever, it hurt.

He braced himself for the usual flash of pain. How is he still not used to this? He felt it closing around his chest, squeezing until he had to suck in a breath. He fisted his hands, trying to keep himself from grabbing her, trying to keep it all from showing on his face.

While she held his gaze so coolly, after not seeing him for years.

She dressed casual enough. But there was a look in her eyes, a tilt in her head that made him feel shabby in his black shirt and baseball cap. And he knew everything he longed to do was impossible with the chasm that gaped between them. It was too wide to even fit in the room.

She broke eye contact first, showing nothing but a blank mask as she walked to the chair across his. Even her walk was different. No longer slouching. No longer trying to hide herself. He kept staring at her, but he didn't make any move to help her with her chair. She was his wife, but even a gesture like that felt too familiar. Every bit of her was holding him at an arm's length.

She felt like a stranger.

"Thanks for seeing me." Her quiet voice broke the silence.

Still velvet soft. Still a warm caress to his frantic mind. Still hers.

How many times had he let it echo in his memory? But nothing could prepare him for the rush of longing upon hearing the real thing.

He was too afraid to unclench his jaw to respond. He had to check every single instinct to reach for her, every single muscle, every breath. His brows furrowed at the effort.

She exhaled loudly, finally meeting his eyes. "How are you?"

For the life of him, he could not read anything in that gaze. Nothing in her brown eyes. He'd once thought they were blinding when they showed him everything she was thinking.