Chapter 179
A large window flooded with sunlight caught her eye. The golden rays filtering through the sheer curtains looked warm and inviting.
Almost instinctively, she walked toward it. Leaning out to let the breeze brush against her skin, she had just opened the window when—yank!—a powerful force suddenly dragged her backward.
Her heart plummeted at his abrupt action, and she opened her mouth to snap at him—What the hell are you doing?!—but he beat her to it, his voice sharp.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Stunned and speechless, she could only stare. Since when is opening a window for fresh air a crime?
Annoyed, she squirmed to break free, but his arms only tightened like steel bands around her. The crushing pressure made her shove him with all her strength—yet he didn’t budge. Not even when she kicked, thrashed, and struck him with everything she had. His grip on her waist didn’t waver.
Fear and frustration welled up until she finally screamed:
“Let go! You’re hurting me!”
He stiffened, then slackened his arms just enough to ease the suffocating hold. She wrenched herself away, biting her lip hard. Her waist ached as if it had nearly snapped.
“What was that?” she demanded, voice trembling with suppressed fury.
His shoulders twitched.
“I just wanted some air! Was that worth manhandling me like this?”
Her glare could have scorched him. Anger bleached her thoughts white-hot. Yes, she had every right to be furious—but this rage felt volcanic.
Again? You think brute force is the answer? So much for changing your ways!
Fuming, she turned back to the window, slamming it shut with a jerk. But as her gaze dropped downward, a strange chill slithered down her spine.
…What would happen if I jumped?
Headfirst—would that be enough to die?
I’m scared. I hate pain. But if I want to escape him, this might be the only way. I don’t want to live anymore. There’s no reason left to keep going.
As if possessed, Jaha reached toward the half-open window, fingers brushing the gap. But just before she could act, clarity struck like a bucket of ice water.
‘What the hell was I about to do?’
Jump? Why?
Sure, Rikanan’s overbearing attitude pissed her off, but rationally, that wasn’t enough to drive someone to suicide.
Her mind spun. She wasn’t happy with her current life, but she’d never—not even impulsively—considered ending it. So why now?
A shiver crawled down her spine as she froze in place. Then Rikanan spoke.
“Come here.”
His voice was thin, unsteady.
Jaha turned.
The man staring back at her looked like he was on the verge of collapsing, his face drained of color. Desperate. Pleading.
“Come talk to me. Please.”
It was practically a beg. As if he’d seen the dark impulse that nearly sent her tumbling through the window.
She studied him for a long moment before finally releasing the window and stepping toward him. He reached out as if to grab her, then clenched his fist instead, forcing restraint.
“I’m sorry. I just—I thought something might happen to you. The window… it’s dangerous. That’s why.”
Uncharacteristically flustered, he was rambling.
Jaha’s face burned with shame over her own fleeting impulse, but admitting it outright felt like surrender.
“I’m not a child. I’m an adult—why worry about something like that?”
“Because—”
His lips parted, then sealed shut. He had something to say. But he didn’t.
Just as Jaha was about to scold him for overstepping, her gaze caught his trembling hands—gloved fingertips shaking minutely.
She studied his face again. She’d noticed his pallor earlier, but now, up close, something was clearly wrong. Beads of cold sweat clung to his skin, his expression that of someone gripped by a visceral, traumatic memory—
A sudden hypothesis flashed through her mind, freezing her in place. His obsessive reaction the moment she’d opened the window…
‘Could it be…?’
Had someone close to him fallen to an accident? Had he witnessed it, leaving him with PTSD?
It would explain everything. The Rikanan she knew wasn’t usually this irrational.
Her anger dissolved like mist. What had infuriated her was his unreasonable force, but if there was a reason—if it came from pain—she could understand.
“I’m going to wash up now,” she said quietly. “You should too. We’ll eat breakfast after.”
He nodded slowly. For a moment, she considered hugging him before heading to the bathroom, but she dismissed the thought. She didn’t want to comfort him. Not yet.
Then—
“You reap what you sow. This is your own karma.”
A woman’s voice, icy and whisper-thin, slithered through the air.
Jaha whirled around, but aside from Rikanan, the room was empty. It couldn’t have been him—the tone was undeniably feminine.
A hallucination?
Clutching her goosebumped neck, Jaha hurried into the bathroom, the voice lingering like a ghost in her ears.
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