Looking out the window, snowflakes had actually begun to fall. Watching this scene from within a warm room made life seem beautiful and blissful, giving Zoe Lancaster a fleeting illusion.
"We’ll follow Aunt Claire’s arrangements."
Zoe had thought Simon Hawthorne would refuse, but he nodded, his voice cool and clear. It meant he actually intended to stay.
Zoe gave him a surprised look.
"Is he out of his mind?" she wondered. "Is he addicted to acting? Doesn’t he find it incredibly tedious to play the affectionate couple in front of Aunt Claire and the others?"
Claire Sutton clapped her hands, beaming with a deep sense of satisfaction in her eyes. "This is our first New Year together as a family. Seeing my Zoe so happy brings me peace of mind."
Zoe didn’t know how to respond. Her heart couldn’t help but ache. Her aunt wanted nothing but the best for her, yet Zoe had made an absolute mess of her life. Now, she had no choice but to keep up this well-intentioned lie.
Autumn Linden gnawed on a chicken foot, looking up and mumbling, "I always said my sister had a great eye. Back then, when that guy... Preston Quincy kept chasing her, I just knew it wouldn’t work out. He really can’t compare to Simon..."
The young girl was simple-minded and immediately regretted her words the moment they left her mouth. She blinked repeatedly at Zoe and Simon, wondering if she had just exposed her sister’s romantic history.
Hearing Preston Quincy’s name, Zoe seemed to freeze for a couple of seconds, a brief flash of unnaturalness crossing her face. Things with Preston hadn’t ended on decent terms. It felt as if a fig leaf had been suddenly ripped away, faintly dredging up rotten and unbearable things from the depths of her memory.
Simon, on the other hand, calmly set down his teacup. His eyes behind the lenses were deep and serene. "Yes. Although your sister has quite a few minor flaws, she does have a particularly good eye. She knows who the right man is."
Zoe was speechless. She wondered why she felt like Simon’s words carried an inexplicable hint of sarcasm. As for him being the right man? She couldn’t believe he had the nerve to say that.
Claire couldn’t help but smile, seeing this as nothing more than playful banter between the young couple. Given her age and experience, how could she not tell that Simon was deliberately teasing Zoe?
"Autumn, don’t you have to go out to buy study materials tomorrow? Hurry up and go to sleep once you’re done eating," Claire said, shooing her away. She then turned to Zoe with a beaming smile. "Take the room on the left. It has an en-suite bathroom, which makes freshening up convenient, and I even bought bathrobes. The two of you can just stay in there."
Zoe hadn’t actually planned on staying. Glancing at the man who was looking down at his phone, replying to emails, she had no choice but to bite the bullet. "Alright. Go to bed early, Aunt Claire. You don’t need to worry about us."
Tactfully, Claire left to give the couple some privacy. Out of the three bedrooms, Claire had kept the master bedroom empty, choosing to share the second bedroom with Autumn. Even though the house was technically under Zoe’s name, Claire didn’t feel it was right to act like the owner. If Zoe ever wanted to come back for a short stay, how could she possibly make her sleep in the guest room?
They entered the room. The underfloor heating was toasty, forming a stark contrast to the freezing, snowy world outside. Simon followed closely behind her. His tall, straight figure stood right behind hers. Their reflection in the glass highlighted a striking difference in their builds, and under the hazy lighting, it looked as though he were embracing her from behind.
This visual illusion made Zoe zone out for a brief moment. Then, she heard the man behind her speak.
"I’ll go take a shower."
Zoe finally snapped back to reality. Just as she turned her head, she saw the man raise his hand and take off the gold-rimmed glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He then lazily slipped them onto her face.
"Keep them safe."
Zoe completely froze. She rarely wore glasses, not even sunglasses. The weight on the bridge of her nose was very light. Having him personally place an intimate item on her—something he never took off throughout the day—unexpectedly brought about an indescribable sense of intimacy.
Her fingertips lightly brushed against the temples of the glasses near her ears, which still carried his body heat. It took her quite a while to calm her racing heart. She took the glasses off, folded the arms, and placed them on the nightstand.
While Simon was in the shower, Zoe examined the bed in front of her. At two meters wide, it was spacious enough for two people to sleep with a wide gap between them. Making do for one night wouldn’t be an issue.
After some thought, she grabbed a throw pillow and placed it right in the middle. She earnestly drew a boundary line, creating a strict divide between their territories.
When Simon came out drying his hair, he caught the woman right in the middle of her childish act of drawing a line. His thin, reddish lips twitched imperceptibly as he thought to himself, "Completely unnecessary."
Hearing the movement, Zoe didn’t even look up as she said, "I’m going to wash up."
She dashed to the bathroom at top speed. Shortly after, Simon heard a highly amusing CLICK of the lock engaging. His gaze lingered on the bathroom door for two seconds. His strikingly handsome face showed no emotional fluctuation as he nonchalantly walked over to the sofa and sat down.
Zoe wished she could wash her hair and take a shower twice over, ideally stalling until Simon fell asleep. Realizing she was about to scrub her skin raw, she had no choice but to step out of the bathroom.
Simon was still sitting on the sofa looking at his phone, presumably dealing with work matters. He didn’t look up to pay her any attention.
Zoe breathed a sigh of relief. She found a hairdryer in the cabinet and was just about to head back into the bathroom.
"Sit there."
Simon decisively set down his phone and his work, stood up, and walked toward her. Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her over to sit in front of the vanity mirror without a word of explanation. He took the hairdryer, his expression cold yet noble. "Give me the towel."
Zoe had never seen such a patient side to Simon. Subconsciously, she did whatever he said.
Taking the towel, Simon lowered his gaze. With one hand, he gently grasped her hair, and with the other, he dried her dripping ends once more. His long eyelashes lowered, casting two shadows over his cool, fair skin. He was beautiful but seemed devoid of human warmth. Yet even so, Zoe couldn’t stop the accelerating beating of her heart in her chest.
When given something she had never experienced before, this sudden, unexpected taste of sweetness was enough to briefly paralyze her brain.
It wasn’t until the whirring of the hairdryer sounded in her ears that she came back to her senses. Through the vanity mirror, she watched the man standing behind her, drying her hair. She wondered if someone as exalted as him would actually do something so deeply affectionate. Moreover, his movements were extremely gentle and skillful; he didn’t hurt her in the slightest.
"Don’t you like the violin?" Simon spoke at a leisurely pace, his voice rich and pleasant to the ear. He looked up, meeting her gaze in the mirror. "During my two days in Veridia, I happened to run into a top-tier master who handcrafts violins. I brought one back for you in passing. I’ll have Linden deliver it to you tomorrow."
In passing? Zoe instinctively pondered the logic behind that, wondering if a master handcrafted violin was really made that quickly. It felt as if surging magma had been poured into her chest, instantly swallowing her whole.
However, this instinctive, physiological leap of joy lasted for only a few seconds before it died away, immediately replaced by another question.
She wondered if he was giving her a violin because of Peyton Joyce. Since Peyton majored in the violin, did he just decide to bestow one upon Zoe as an afterthought while preparing one for Peyton? Zoe could only think of this possibility. In an instant, her heart turned to dead ashes.
DING-DONG.
The phone resting on the table chimed.
Heavy-hearted, Zoe opened it to find a WhatsApp message from Jules Yates. It was a belated New Year’s greeting.
Jules Yates: [In the new year, may our Buddy have a booming life and get rich overnight. I’ve sent a big red envelope for you.]
—Jules Yates transferred 52,000 to you.
Jules Yates: [Likewise, on this day in the new year, it is also the 688th day of hoping for Buddy’s divorce!]
The surrounding air seemed to freeze into ice shards.
Zoe’s heart skipped a heavy beat. She instinctively looked into the mirror. The man who had been drying her hair from behind had stopped, his cool and indifferent gaze falling on the final sentence displayed on her WhatsApp screen—