Time seemed to freeze in that moment, the scene becoming eternal. The dim light in the corridor cast a soft glow on her fair face, adding a touch of gentleness. Her eyes remained calm, with a hint of disdain as she looked at him, lips parting lightly, "I'm leaving."
But as she took a step, Kelvin grabbed her and pulled her back. Cheyenne retreated two steps, finally pressed against the wall by him.
His towering figure surrounded her like a mountain, casting a shadow that blocked most of the light. His handsome face, akin to a deity, displayed both brightness and darkness. His deep-set eyes stared at her pouty face, and he asked in a low voice, "Are you angry?"
"Shouldn't I be angry?" She raised her face defiantly, despite losing in height, and glared back at him.
Kelvin, seeming puzzled, furrowed his brows. "Because she slept in your room without permission? I didn't know. Abbie has a different room."
Cheyenne, indifferent, mocked with a cold smile when she heard he mentioned Abbie had another room here. "Mr. Foley, you're being overly concerned. I don't care about Miss Berry and you. As for that room, I'm well aware. We're divorced, and it's your house; she can sleep wherever she likes."
"I'm angry because you wealthy people treat others so casually, with no dignity. And you, you make me feel indifferent. Regarding this matter, I've had firsthand experience, no need for explanations; I won't listen."
Her rosy and charming lips, tempting like cherries, uttered a string of words that fueled his anger. She claimed she wasn't angry because of Abbie, as she didn't care about him. She accused him of being indifferent.
Kelvin didn't want to help the maid simply because he thought she might commit more wrongdoings for personal gain. He didn't appreciate Cheyenne unjustly accusing him.
Noble as Kelvin was, he usually disdained explaining himself, especially to a woman. But he spoke now.
His voice, slightly cold, a bit faster than usual, and with a hint of urgency, betrayed a sense of grievance. If Cheyenne listened carefully, she could detect the subtle hint of hurt in his words.
"Grandpa said that room has always been yours, and I haven't touched it. Abbie's room is because she just returned and hasn't bought a house yet."
"I haven't been there!"
Not even once!
Cheyenne hadn't expected him to explain so seriously. Her eyebrows lightly lifted, and her pouting face finally softened.
Avoiding his gaze, she looked elsewhere. "Mr. Foley, you can tell Grandpa that the room doesn't need to be reserved. After he recovers, I won't set foot in here again!"
She smiled lightly, her tone decisive.
Kelvin's mind was in turmoil for a second, the words she had just said echoing in his mind. After Grandpa recovered, she wouldn't come here again.
This room held the only trace of Cheyenne's existence in his life. Despite her tidying up and the previous organization, the trace had faded. With time, it would continue to fade. He felt as if his heart was slowly slipping away, like sand through an hourglass. Once the sand ran out, it would turn into emptiness, leaving nothing behind.
A sandglass could be turned over to start anew. But what about him and Cheyenne? Start over! These words pressed heavily on Kelvin's heart, settling the drifting strings of his heart somewhat. He had figured out a lot.
Yes, start anew!
He never understood why he unconsciously looked at Cheyenne when she was with other men, the strange thoughts in his mind. Over the five years she was by his side, her presence had seeped into his life, into his soul. Even though she deliberately tried not to care about her, persuading herself not to be sentimental, he still did many things for her that were originally impossible.
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