CHAPTER 198: CHAPTER 198: POSSESSIVENESS

The words sounded the same as before, jokingly asking her for a commitment, playing with emotions.

Vera Sheridan didn’t pay attention, smiling as she tried to pinch his arm, but her fingertips hadn’t touched him yet.

Her gaze gradually shifted from Lucky on the floor, only lifting her head to realize something was... off with Noah.

The man turned sideways to avoid her touch, already lowering his head, "tap, tap, tap" as he chopped the green onions.

Under the warm yellow light, the profile of his face etched a sense of coolness and aloofness.

The atmosphere became subtle.

Vera Sheridan’s hand froze in mid-air, slowly retracting.

She secretly moved her right hand, the feeling of being tightly held and spread open by him under the spotlight was still so vivid, domineering, full of possessiveness.

Was he blaming her?

Those words about respecting her pace, willing to wait for her, were they a compromise or genuine tolerance?

Vera Sheridan’s heart suddenly felt heavy.

She silently left the kitchen, took off her shower cap, went to the balcony, opened a ventilation window, leaned on the window ledge, blowing the evening breeze, looking at the city lights of the CBD at night.

Isn’t their current mode of interaction good?

But she was also clear-headed enough to understand that Noah couldn’t accept not getting married; it was only a matter of time.

She knew even better that love is between two people, but marriage is between two families.

Just thinking of Ms. Morgan’s arrogant face gave her a headache.

If she forced herself to marry in, what awaited her was imaginable...

First was the discipline faced by a daughter-in-law of that class, for instance, she must always be mindful of her words and actions, or she’d be criticized for "losing face for The Grant Family";

Her beloved ballet career, in the eyes of Ms. Morgan and the ladies of that circle, would be downgraded from art to a kind of improper public appearance, even criticized as being self-inflicted suffering, lacking in sense.

And Noah? She believed his love was sincere at this moment.

But in the long years ahead, when his mother’s complaints and his wife’s grievances constantly placed him in the middle, would he still stand in front of her without any hesitation?

Or would he gradually feel she was too sensitive, not accommodating enough, hoping she would endure a bit for him?

That kind of "enduring" was the beginning of dimming her brilliance, the process of squeezing her into the glamorous mold of "Mrs. Grant".

She would need to shave off her edges, hide her sharpness, to play the role of a meek and proper accessory, centered absolutely on her husband and his family.

This was also what she had personally experienced in her previous marriage.

The backhanded insults of being called an actress by Jean Crowe, and Ian’s attempts at smoothing things over between her and his mother...

Breathing in the cool autumn breeze, thinking of such a seemingly splendid but actually self-constricting future, Vera Sheridan couldn’t help but feel confused.

In the kitchen, Noah lost his focus for a moment, the blade tilted, cutting his fingertip.

He hissed, sucking in a cold breath, instinctively grabbing a tissue to wrap his finger.

The sharp pain instantly pierced through the haze in his heart caused by sulking.

He slapped his forehead, cursed himself, and strode out of the kitchen, searching for Vera Sheridan’s silhouette.

Just entering the living room, catching a figure out of the corner of his eye, he stopped his long legs, looking toward the balcony.

Vera Sheridan was leaning by the window, the evening breeze blowing the stray hairs by her cheek, her back silhouetted against the dazzling city nightscape, looking slender and quiet, with even a hint of... confusion.

Noah’s heart thumped hard.

Understanding, she had sensed the dissatisfaction he unintentionally revealed!

In an instant, the grievance and dissatisfaction that arose from her evasion were replaced by a surge of heartache and self-blame.

Without much hesitation, he stepped toward the balcony.

The man approached from behind, his warm presence bringing a hint of warmth and the scent of onions and ginger, dispelling the slight chill of the autumn night.

Vera Sheridan was startled.

Noah reached out, gently holding her from behind, resting his chin on her slender shoulder, his actions clearly carrying apology and comfort.

Vera Sheridan furrowed her brow, "You—"

"I’m sorry." He interrupted her just as she was about to speak, his deep voice resonating against her ear.

"I was impatient just now, I didn’t say things right."

"Without going through all your tests, I wanted to ’kidnap’ you into giving me a commitment in public, eager for a position, deserving of severe punishment!" He half-jokingly exposed his selfishness and scheming, but with sincere regret.

He also had a strong possessiveness toward her.

This possessiveness stemmed from the insecurity of fear of losing her.

And nine years ago, he really did "lose" her once.

The man’s breath enveloped her, listening to him speak sincerely yet half-joking, like a way of masking the true unease, Vera Sheridan’s heart tightened, a fine pain spreading.

Such a proud person, being so cautious, even using self-deprecation to disguise his longing.

"Noah, seriously, tell me, have you been compromising all along just to be with me?"

His arms around her noticeably stiffened, his whole body froze.

The instant silence was the best answer.

Vera Sheridan gently broke free from his embrace, wanting to turn around to face him, to have a proper talk.

But as she made her move, Noah’s heart began to sink bit by bit.

Thinking she was backing out.