The silence stretched.
Not empty—but heavy.
Like something unseen had settled between us…
watching, waiting, breathing.
Cheng Mo didn't move.
But his presence—
it pressed.
Against my chest.
Against my thoughts.
Against the fragile control I had left.
Good," he said softly.
The word didn't sound like approval.It sounded like a door closing.
Something inside me tightened.
Not all at once—but slowly.
Like a thread being pulled…
and pulled…
and pulled—
until it threatened to snap.
"That makes this simple."
Simple.
The word echoed in my mind, hollow.Because nothing about this was simple.
Not the blood.
Not the lie.
Not the way my mother's trembling hands had clutched mine that night—
as if I was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.
My breath was caught in my throat.
Sharp.Unsteady.
I should've stayed silent.I should've let him leave.
"Wait."
The word slipped out anyway.
Fragile.Like something already breaking.
He paused.
And in that pause—
everything felt suspended.
Time.Air.
The thin line I was walking on.
If this is about revenge…" I said, forcing each word past the weight in my chest,
"then come at me."
My voice sounded steady.
But inside—
it wasn't.It was shaking.
Like a glass under pressure.
"But leave her out of it."
A mistake.
I knew it the moment his laugh came.
It was low,Soft,Almost gentle.
But it cut deeper than anger ever could.
"You still don't get it," Cheng Mo said.
Something cold slid down my spine.
"This was never about fairness."
"Fairness.Such a useless word."
"Because fairness didn't exist
the night everything fell apart."
Not when blood stained the floor.Not when a life ended too suddenly—
too quietly—
like a candle extinguished before it even had the chance to burn.
"You took something from me."
His voice lowered.And with it—the air seemed to grow heavier.
"So I'll take something from you."