Chapter 174
His low voice rumbled against her, warm and drowsy. The heat of his skin seeped into hers, comforting. Still, Jaha couldn’t help but mutter:
“If you want to hug me, you could’ve just grabbed me from the start.”
In all this time, he had never done that. During s*x, he touched her however he pleased—yet outside of it, he always sought her permission before any physical contact. Even earlier, he hadn’t simply pulled her into his arms; he’d left the choice to her.
It didn’t make sense. They were far from strangers—they’d done everything together. Wasn’t it natural for lovers to hug, kiss, and touch freely, even outside the bedroom?
The way he acted now was no different from asking for explicit permission before every kiss.
Not that he ever actually asked aloud—he wasn’t that gauche. Instead, he’d subtly gauge her reaction before acting.
Regardless, this went beyond mere consideration. It was unusual. And Jaha wanted to know why.
“I can’t.”
After a brief silence, he finally spoke.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m afraid you might hate it if I act on my own.”
Jaha was momentarily speechless at his unexpected answer. Just from his tone, she could tell it wasn’t a joke or an empty reassurance—he genuinely meant it. Apparently, this man had some kind of fixation on consent.
‘Did he make some huge mistake with a woman from his past?’
The thought pricked at her chest, sending a sharp, unpleasant twinge through her. And then—irritation flared.
Even if that were the case, that woman was that woman, and she was her. There was no need to treat Jaha the same way.
“Why would you assume in advance that I’d dislike it?”
Her question came out sharper than intended. In response, he mumbled weakly into her shoulder.
“…Because.”
“What?”
Instead of answering, he tightened his arms around her waist. The crushing embrace bordered on uncomfortable—just as Jaha was about to complain, he finally spoke.
“You… really wouldn’t hate it if I held you?”
“No.”
“Anytime?”
“As long as it’s within reason—time and place considered.”
“Even without asking first?”
“Just don’t startle me by grabbing me from behind out of nowhere.”
No heart attacks, please.
At her answers, his body trembled faintly, as if overwhelmed. His reaction to such a normal response left her feeling strange. Just what kind of relationships had he been in before?
Honestly, with looks like his, his confidence should’ve been sky-high. He could’ve had women clinging to him without lifting a finger, could’ve played the handsome card to get away with anything. The phrase “pretty privilege” existed for a reason—if she had been born with his face, she’d have milked it for all it was worth.
‘Even with looks that could forgive sins, just how badly was he burned by that ex?’
The idea that he’d been so thoroughly conditioned—to the point of overthinking basic physical affection—twisted something inside her. Sure, it was all in the past, but still…
‘It just means he liked her that much.’
What kind of woman had she been?
What had she done to him?
Was she beautiful? The pure and innocent type? Or maybe the sexy, alluring kind?
Was her personality haughty? Sweet and affectionate? Or perhaps overflowing with charisma?
Jaha’s fingertips turned cold, while her chest burned with unmistakable jealousy.
This is a pointless waste of emotion.
Experience had taught her that much. Competing with the past was futile—nothing could be changed or erased, so what was the point of getting worked up? But knowing that didn’t make it any easier.
She hated the thought of him being that way with someone else. Logically, she understood that relationships were about sharing the present—not owning someone’s past or future. But it still left a bitter taste in her mouth. She wasn’t childish enough to show it, though.
‘The answer is to not dwell on it.’
Holding him close, Jaha resolved to do just that.
Yet it wasn’t long before that woman crept back into her thoughts—this time, at the dining table.
“Again? Why are you watching me eat instead of having your own meal?”
“I like seeing you enjoy your food.”
“Who could possibly not enjoy food like this?”
He only smiled in response.
Jaha frowned. The chef in this mansion was the best she’d ever encountered. By now, she’d grown somewhat accustomed to it, but at first, every bite had been so delicious her eyes would widen in shock.
What kind of person could eat such incredible food in front of him and not savor it?
‘…Her.’
The realization struck abruptly. If asked how she’d reached that conclusion without evidence, she could only call it intuition—a gut feeling.
Her hand, holding the utensil, stilled.
Is he projecting onto me something he couldn’t get from her?
Is he living vicariously through me?
Her fingers trembled slightly. She wasn’t angry—just… unsettled. The more she dwelled on it, the more her mood soured, but it wasn’t unbearable.
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