In this state, without makeup, even Khloe herself could barely accept it.
The moment Khloe stepped out of the restroom, a figure came straight toward her.
She instinctively tried to dodge, but it was already too late. Her arm was seized, and in the next instant, her back was pressed firmly against the wall, his arm bracing her against it.
The corridor outside the restroom was ornate yet enclosed, the lighting dim and subdued.
It took her a moment to clearly make out the man in front of her.
But her body recognized him faster than her eyes did. Almost instantly, Khloe blurted out his name.
"Nick."
"If you came, why didn't you say hello? Or do you really not want to see me that much?"
His voice followed immediately.
Nick leaned slightly forward, caging her beneath the weight of his presence.
His voice was hoarse, carrying a faint, ambiguous smile. To Khloe, it even sounded faintly teasing.
She looked up at his face.
The waiter had been right—Nick looked exhausted. His cheeks were slightly hollowed, his features far more gaunt than before.
Even though the lighting was dim and it was hard to judge his complexion, he looked as if he had aged several years overnight, weighed down by an unmistakable fatigue.
And yet, no matter his condition, he was still strikingly handsome.
His eyes, deep and dark, were like a swamp—one glance was enough to pull her into emotional disarray.
"It's not like that…" Khloe blurted out, then quickly averted her gaze. "I just didn't know you were here."
"If you didn't know I was here, then who was that fruit platter for?"
As he spoke, he released her arm.
But even as he straightened slightly, he didn't step back. Instead, he lowered his voice further and leaned in closer.
He could have spoken at a normal distance, but instead chose to speak directly beside her ear.
A faint itch spread from her ear down the back of her neck, and Khloe's face flushed almost instantly.
"How did you know it was me?"

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