CHAPTER 120: CHAPTER 120: HE’S BACK

The alcohol burned in her blood, yet her mind was exceptionally clear. This clarity carried a cruel sharpness, magnifying every bit of embarrassment and pain in clear detail.

Jean Ellison leaned against the cold wall, her steps unsteady as she walked out of the restaurant. Instead of returning to her usual spare room, she impulsively pushed open the door to the master bedroom.

The room was pitch dark, with only the faint glow of the city’s neon lights outside, outlining the cold, hard edges of the furniture.

The air was filled with a clean, fresh scent, it was the aroma of the cedar-scented shower gel and light cologne that Justin Holden always used, mixed with a hint of cotton dried in the sun.

He didn’t smoke, and his body carried this cold yet clean scent.

Jean groped her way to the bed and collapsed onto it as if she had no strength left.

The mattress was soft, supporting her heavy body.

She didn’t pull the quilt over herself; instead, she turned her side, burying her face deep into the fluffy pillow, and reached out to hug the quilt on the other side tightly.

The familiar cold cedar scent belonging solely to Justin enveloped her even more densely, penetrating her senses in every way.

Tears welled up without warning, not in sobs, but silently slid down from the corner of one eye, swiftly traversing the bridge of her nose, and dripping onto the other cheek.

Eventually, they soaked into the dark gray high-quality cotton sheets beneath her, leaving a small irregular dark wet mark.

She curled up like that, clutching the quilt carrying his scent, allowing silent tears to flow continuously, wetting the pillow and sheets.

The dizziness brought by alcohol and the sharp pain in her heart intertwined, ultimately dragging her into a hazy sleep.

The dream came quickly, bizarre yet as clear as if the day before.

Time rapidly rewound, back to the summer when the plane trees were lush at Kingswell University.

The air was filled with the scent of youth and sunshine.

In the dream, she was still Claire Caldwell, wearing a simple white T-shirt and faded jeans, her hair in a ponytail, with a brightness in her eyes that had not yet been worn away by life and a touch of innocence.

And Justin Holden was the law school senior, famed for his extraordinary talent but cold and distant, the object of secret admiration by many girls yet daring not to approach.

But in her dream, he was still her boyfriend.

Although their relationship started somewhat inexplicably and was maintained with unusual subtlety and even difficulty.

In the dream, Justin was always very busy.

His grades were excellent, garnering appreciation from his mentor and several industry giants, frequently taken to attend various academic conferences, project research, and even involved in some important international legal practices.

He was always on business trips, shuttling between different cities.

She just stayed at the school, patiently waiting for him.

Going to class, visiting the library, occasionally shopping with roommates, but most of the time, diligently working part-time.

The Caldwell family had already shown some decline by then, her living expenses no longer so ample, and she didn’t want to ask for more.

The scene in the dream shifted.

It was a late autumn night, the cold wind cutting to the bone.

She worked in a fast-food restaurant far away from the school, wearing an ill-fitting uniform, busy wiping tables and clearing trays.

Her fingers were red from the cold water.

The phone vibrated once in her pocket.

She took advantage of the manager’s inattention and secretly ran to the narrow alley by the back door to check.

It was a message from Justin. Brief as he always was.

"Came back early, just landed, where are you?"

Her heart leaped with joy for a moment, then sank.

She looked at the time, still more than an hour before getting off work.

She bowed her head, her fingers a bit stiff from the cold, slowly typing a reply.

"Still working, need to work overtime. Can’t go to you."

She stared at the screen, with a little expectation in her heart. Maybe he would say, "I’ll come to you," or "What time do you get off, I’ll pick you up."

But the screen lit up, his reply came very quickly, still just one word.

"Okay."

In the dream, Claire pouted in disappointment, put the phone back in her pocket, sniffed her nose, and went back to work.

She felt a bit wronged, but also thought it was to be expected.

He was always like this, calm, restrained, never doing anything unnecessary.

Finally, getting through to the end of her shift, she changed back into her clothes, said goodbye to her colleagues, pushed open the heavy glass door of the fast-food restaurant, and walked out.

The night wind immediately rushed with chill, she shrank her neck, buried her face into the scarf, keeping her head down as she quickly walked towards the bus stop.

She had only taken a few steps when her wrist was suddenly grasped forcefully from behind and to the side.

She was startled, turning back in fear, thinking she’d encountered a bad guy.

The next second, she met a pair of deep, familiar eyes.

Justin was wearing a long black overcoat, standing in the dim yellow light of the street lamp, his figure tall and straight, his shoulders seemingly dusted with the night’s cold dew.

She didn’t know how long he had been waiting there.

"You..." She widened her eyes in surprise, not having time to ask how he was there.

He, without saying a word, slightly tightened his grip on her wrist, pulling her entire body towards a darker corner of the alley nearby.

Her back lightly pressed against the cold, rough brick wall.

His breath enveloped her, carrying the dusty cold of travel but warm and burning.

He didn’t give her any time to react, lowering his head, his warm lips accurately covering hers.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss but carried a kind of repressed, almost plundering urgency and dominance.

His arm tightly encircled her waist, fixing her between himself and the wall, while his other hand cupped her cheek, his fingers slightly rough, caressing her icy skin.

The kiss was dense and deep, leaving no room for refusal, infused with his unique clean and fresh scent, instantly robbing her of all her breath and ability to think.

Her mind was blank, only able to passively endure this sudden, fiercely intense kiss.

Her hands and feet were a bit weak, instinctively gripping the lapel of his coat.

The light of the street lamp was blocked by his figure, outlining their tightly embraced silhouette on the edge.

The cold night wind seemed to cease blowing, leaving only the sound of their urgent breathing and the faint noise of their lips and teeth intertwining in the narrow space.

He kissed with force, as if pouring all the emotions of their days apart into this kiss.

Until she nearly ran out of breath, emitting a slight whimper.

He finally slightly released her, but his forehead still pressed against hers, his breath heavy, hotly spilling over her lips.

In the dark, his deep eyes shone vividly, staring tightly at her, his voice hoarse and magnetic from the kiss.

"...I’m back."

Simple as the three words were, from his mouth, they stirred her heart.

In the dream, Claire’s cheeks were burning, her heart pounding like a drum, her whole being woozy, as if floating on clouds.

The previous grievances and disappointment had long vanished, leaving only an unreal sense of happiness.

He watched her naive and shy expression, a faint hint of a smile flashing in his eyes. He lowered his head again, gently pecking at her slightly swollen lips, then took her hand, holding it in his warm, dry palm.

"Let’s go, I’ll walk you to the dorm."

His voice returned to its usual calm, but the grip on her hand was firm and gentle.

The final scene of the dream was of him holding her hand, walking along the campus path deep into the quiet night, plane trees shedding leaves around them.

Their shadows stretched long under the street lamps, occasionally overlapping.

He turned his head to look at her, suddenly saying, "In a while, I’ll take you to meet someone."

"Who?" she asked curiously.

"Someone very important."

His tone was calm, but very solemn.

...

In her sleep, Jean’s lips unconsciously curved into a very faint smile, as if still immersed in that sweet moment.

But then, the dream began to distort, the light became dim, Justin’s face started to blur, the grip on her hand disappeared, the cedar cold scent turned pungent...

Jean laying on the master bed abruptly furrowed her brows, her body shifting uneasily.

She clutched the quilt tighter, as if fending off some immense pain.

The tears at the corner of her eyes flowed more fiercely, drenching that small patch of the sheet thoroughly wet.