Sandra hung up the phone and stretched her neck to glance at April, who was still sitting in front of the computer, blissfully engrossed in her anime.

What could that guy have put in the ice cream?

Maintaining an air of nonchalance, Sandra strolled into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. As she filled it, she asked casually, "Doesn't all that ice cream upset your stomach?"

April waved dismissively. "Not at all. Once, I bought one of those giant three-liter tubs from the supermarket and polished off half in one sitting—didn't feel a thing!"

Sandra's grip tightened around the glass. No stomachache? So it's not a laxative.

She took a sip of water, her thoughts racing. Then what is Arden's game?

She would've preferred it to be just a laxative—at least that would be predictable. Arden likely wanted to teach her a lesson, but not cross the line into real harm—at least, she hoped so.

Still, a flicker of guilt surfaced. If it was a laxative, maybe April could use the wake-up call. Sitting at her computer all day wasn't healthy, and a little weight loss might even do her some good... right?

But if it wasn't a laxative, then what on earth could it be?

Before Sandra could think of more possibilities, a wave of nausea suddenly crept up on her. She shook her head sharply, trying to dispel the thought. No way. It couldn't be anything that twisted...right? But who could truly say what an injured, vengeful man might do?

She groaned inwardly. She should've just thrown the ice cream out earlier instead of letting April eat it. How could she have even entertained the idea that Arden would send her a genuine "peace offering" after what she'd done to him? The very thought now seemed absurd.

Sandra's gaze drifted back to April, still cheerful and oblivious, happily immersed in her anime marathon. Muttering under her breath, she said, "If anything weird happens, I'll kill him myself."

Sandra bit her lip reflexively, only to wince when the sharp sting of her swollen wound reminded her of its presence. "Hiss—" she drew in a sharp breath through her teeth.

April glanced over, raising an eyebrow. "What happened to your lips?"

"Got bitten by a dog," Sandra snapped irritably, her frustration bubbling over.

April burst into laughter. "Serves you right for messing with one." She didn't press further, assumed the 'dog' was Yao. She switched to another anime, leaving Sandra to her thoughts.

Sandra frowned at the screen, now displaying a sleazy male cartoon character alongside an exaggeratedly busty, slim-waisted female character. "Why don't you watch live-action stuff anymore?"

April scoffed. looked back at her. "No aesthetic appeal."

Sandra gave her a puzzled look. "It's all erotic stuff. What makes cartoons any better?"

April shrugged, unbothered, then turned back to watch the anime.

Sandra couldn't hold back her frustration. "You almost got taken advantage of last time. Haven't you learned your lesson yet?"

April, eyes glued on the screen, replied, "I did learn my lesson—that's why I'm watching at home now. Fun and safe."

Sandra sighed, trying to reason with her. "You shouldn't hang around guys like Ryo anymore." She didn't want April following in her footsteps.

"I haven't talked to him in a while," April answered.

"Then why do you still accept his flowers and gifts?" Sandra pressed, recalling the landlady's comments.

"That was before. Today's gift wasn't from him—it was for you."

Sandra frowned. "How do you know it's for me?"

April handed her the empty ice cream bowl. "Your name's on it."

At the bottom of the bowl, in tiny text, were the words:

Dear Sandra, if the taste of the ice cream reminds you of me, call me at 778-888-xxxx. I am at your service at any time.

Sandra glanced up, catching April's half-smiling expression as she turned back to the screen. Her heart stirred uncomfortably, but she tried to play it cool, placing the bowl back on April's desk with a casual shrug. "Just some random weirdo."

April chuckled. "Oh, so Yao's just a random weirdo now? Didn't see that one coming."

Sandra froze for a second, speechless. April thought the ice cream was from Yao.

"I gotta say, though, I never pegged him as the type to be so rough with a lady." April's gaze flicked briefly to Sandra's lips, her tone laced with amusement. "Does he act that fierce in bed too, or is it just his sparring game?"

Sandra kicked the base of April's chair, making her jolt. "Quit watching all this trash—it's clearly rotting your brain!"

On the screen, the anime had reached a dramatic crescendo. April cranked up the volume and cast Sandra a mischievous glance, moaning along with the high-pitched voice of the female protagonist.

Sandra rolled her eyes, her patience worn thin. Without another word, she turned and retreated to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

But the sanctuary of her room offered little solace. The muffled sounds of anime still filtered through the walls, and her gaze inevitably drifted to the bed. Memories she'd tried to bury resurfaced—unbidden and vivid—tugging at her composure.

Her fists clenched at her sides. You can't make mistakes, she reminded herself. Once you do, the shadows follow you everywhere.

What had gotten into April today? Aside from when she first met Ryo, it had been ages since April acted so recklessly. Even back then, she'd at least had the decency to use headphones. Now, she was deliberately teasing her, pushing her buttons. What if the neighbors or landlady overheard?

Wait. That night... had anyone heard anything?

Sandra shook her head. What am I even thinking?

She closed her eyes, pressing her hand to her forehead, trying to steady her breathing. But no matter how hard she tried, the restlessness lingered. The faint sounds of the anime played in the background, blending into the heat rising within her, intensifying with every passing second.

Frustrated, Sandra changed her clothes and stormed out, not bothering to think about where she was headed.

The cool night air gradually soothed Sandra's frayed nerves, the soft breeze clearing her mind. Nearby, the sound of a cello drifted through the quiet, its deep, resonant notes echoing in the stillness. It was beautiful—captivating even.

Sandra sank onto the bench near the apartment entrance, letting the melody wash over her.

The cello played a low, melancholic tune, unlike anything she had heard before. Each note seemed to tug at her emotions, pulling them deeper. The rich tones filled the space around her, and strangely, the sorrow felt familiar—like the music had found the unrest she was trying to escape.

Why was she always so unlucky in her relationships? All she wanted was a shoulder to lean on in this lonely, foreign country. Instead, her boyfriend had betrayed her, and as if that wasn't enough, she'd found herself entangled with an escort.

Maybe she owed him something. The first time she'd sought his "healing" services, she hadn't paid. Perhaps that was why he kept pursuing her—insisting on collecting his due. Thinking back, the phone number he left on the nightstand was probably meant for settling payment. But she'd foolishly thrown it away, never imagining it would all come back to haunt her.

That day at the beach, he hinted that he made a living by accompanying people to dinner. And today, he'd pitifully asked if she despised him. He clearly wasn't the type to directly ask for money. Why had she been so oblivious to the unspoken rules?

Sandra sighed. She must seem like a troublesome customer to him.

To be fair, both times he had "served" her quite well. But with no experience and no sense of the going rate for such high-quality service, she couldn't help but wonder—could she even afford his standard of care?

That man was dangerously alluring. She had heard of women in Japan becoming so obsessed with male hosts that they lost everything. Maybe it was best to cut her losses before she sank in too deep.

A car sped past, its thumping bass shattering the cello's somber rhythm. It reminded her of the fight Arden had gotten into right outside this very doorstep—all because of her.

She still didn't fully understand how it had started. All she knew was that he'd taken a bottle to the head trying to protect her.

Maybe gratitude had kept her from pushing him away. Or maybe she'd never intended to. His bloodshed had simply given her the perfect excuse to fall for him again.

Sandra had always thought of herself as rational. But now she realized—sometimes, she couldn't see herself clearly. Or maybe she just didn't want to.

Had Arden stepped in as her savior just to make sure she couldn't walk away from the debt she owed? Was her gratitude nothing more than misplaced foolishness?

Some relationships—ones with no future, no resolution—were better left behind. She wasn't cut out for this game.

Next time she saw him, she had to be clear. Whatever she owed him—whether for a one-night stand, his so-called rescue, or their tangled past—she would settle it. Then they'd be done. No debts. No ties.

Her fingers brushed her chapped lips. Even after applying ointment, they still stung. Had she pushed him too far today? If she didn't pay up, would he do something drastic?

Kill her and sell her organs?

Would he have poisoned the ice cream? Wait—could poisoned bodies even have usable organs for sale?

The more she thought about it, the more absurd her ideas became. Goosebumps pricked her skin.

Sandra was so lost in thought that she didn't hear the footsteps behind her—not until a hand landed on her shoulder.

She jolted upright, spinning around. "Yao? What are you doing here?"

His brow furrowed. "Am I not allowed to?"

"No, it's not that..."

Yao exhaled, his gaze sweeping over her. "It's barely ten degrees. Why are you out here dressed like this?" He shrugged off his jacket, draping it over her shoulders before taking her hands in his. "Look at you—your hands are freezing."

The heat of his palms seared her icy skin, making her shiver. Only then did Sandra realize how cold she was.

Yao's expression softened. Without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms. "Why are you ignoring my calls? And why are you standing out here instead of going home?"

She knew this was too close, too much. But the warmth, the quiet comfort—it was hard to resist.

So she didn't pull away.

Yao's heart pounded. Maybe it was Sandra's usual mischievous nature keeping him on edge, but her uncharacteristic calm made him wary. His muscles tensed, instinctively bracing for one of her playful punches.

This wasn't the first time he'd held her. He'd even pinned her to the ground before—but those had been training exercises. This... felt different.

He pulled back slightly. "It's dangerous for a girl to be out alone this late. Why aren't you upstairs?"

Sandra thought of April, likely still glued to the screen. Bringing Yao up would be awkward. She shook her head. "Walk with me instead."

Yao hesitated, then nodded. He'd wanted to talk to her alone anyway.

After just a few steps, Sandra latched onto his arm.

Yao's thoughts wandered. Yesterday, she had asked if he wanted to sleep with her. This afternoon, she clung to his arm just the same.

Was this... a hint? An invitation?

Before his thoughts could wander too far, Yao reminded himself why he had come.

"So, tell me the truth."

Sandra blinked. "What truth?"

Her confusion only convinced him further—she was dodging the question.

"If 'he calls everyone babe' was a lie, then what's the truth?"

How was she supposed to explain?

Sandra shrugged. "I owe him money."

Yao stopped walking. "Sandra, I came to hear the truth—from you. Don't brush me off."

Sandra lowered her head, her arm rocking slightly against his. "I'm not. I really do owe him money."

Yao frowned. "Then I'll lend you some. Can I call you 'babe' too?"

"You're not like him. You're not..." Selling yourself. Sandra swallowed the words.

"Not what?"

Not handsome enough? Yao's mind raced.

He tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Tell me the truth."

But before she could speak, the streetlight illuminated her swollen lips. Yao's eyes darkened.

Sandra knew he'd noticed. She tried to pull away, but he held her firmly.

Gently, he cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her lips.

She winced.

"Did he do this?" His voice was cold.

"I bit the dry skin off myself."

Yao didn't believe her. "Why do girls always fall for those trashy guys who flaunt money and play with women?"

"I don't like him."

"You don't?"

With effort, Sandra forced the words out. "I don't."

Yao stepped closer. "Then prove it."

The neon sign of a roadside fast-food joint flickered unsteadily. A car engine hummed in the quiet night.

Suddenly, she grabbed Yao's collar, pulled him down—

And rising on her toes, she kissed him.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Happy new year!!! Welcome to 2025, the 5th update~

I will go back to updating twice per week.

If you like my story, please add it to your book list and remember to vote! Your support is my motivation!