Chapter 77

Cynthia casually slipped her arm through Jonathan's as she approached him. Her eyes locked with his, a soft yet mesmerizing gaze. Jonathan's cold, detached expression instantly melted into warmth. His voice softened. "Nothing much, just chatting with Mr. Yates."

Cynthia raised an eyebrow, subtly shifting the tiny beauty mark near her eye. She smiled. "It's getting late. Let's go and leave him alone."

"All right." Jonathan nodded, his demeanor reverting to its usual coldness as he glanced at Filip. "Mr. Yates, we're leaving now." He and Cynthia departed.

Filip watched them go, feeling a sharp pain in his chest. He thought, When did they become a "we," and why am I suddenly the outsider? How could their decades-long relationship mean so little compared to her month with Jonathan? He refused to believe it, convinced Cynthia was deliberately spiting him.

After a moment's hesitation, Filip surged forward, grabbing Cynthia's arm and pulling her away from Jonathan. He'd been wanting to do this all night, whether they were dancing or watching fireworks. Fueled by alcohol and jealousy, he finally snapped. "Cynthia, don't go—"

Smack!

Before he could finish, a heavy thud echoed. Pain exploded across Filip's back, and he found himself on the ground, the victim of a perfect shoulder throw. His head hit the floor, a dull ache spreading through his skull. Dazed, he stared at Cynthia, who stood above him with an air of grace and indifference, as if the throw had cost her nothing.

A moment ago, Cynthia had unleashed the force of a tempest, her movements laced with spite. Now, she was composed, as if nothing had happened. For a second, Jonathan wondered if he'd imagined it. A chill ran down his spine.

Cynthia's cold gaze fell on Filip. "Filip, have I not made myself clear? If you don't listen, I'll use force." This was her final warning. "Try that again, and I'll cripple you." She turned, pulling Jonathan away. Filip remained on the ground, aching physically and emotionally.

Meanwhile, Cynthia and Jonathan sped away from the Yates residence. Jonathan, however, was unusually quiet, his mood sour. His earlier warmth had vanished, replaced by a cold, brooding silence. Cynthia remained silent, watching the scenery blur.

Finally, Jonathan broke the silence. "Cynthia, why aren't you comforting me?"

Cynthia glanced at him, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Comfort you? What for? Did I upset you somehow?"

Jonathan thought for a second, then shook his head. "No, not really." He added, with a grumpy huff, "But I'm unhappy."

"Why's that?" Cynthia asked, resting her chin in her hand. "Did you lose your little argument with Filip?"

Jonathan scoffed, lifting his chin proudly. "Of course not. I won."

"Then was it watching me throw him to the ground that upset you?" Cynthia teased.

Jonathan smirked. "No, that was actually pretty satisfying." His lips twitched into a mischievous smile.

Cynthia found it adorable. Reaching over, she playfully scratched his chin. "So, what's got you in such a mood, my little princess?" she asked playfully.

Jonathan's spirits lifted. "I'm just annoyed that Filip thinks he can apologize and act like everything's fine, as if admitting his mistakes wipes the slate clean. Where does he get that audacity? It's almost laughable."

Filip's behavior that night had nearly made Jonathan laugh in disbelief. It was absurd, the way Filip expected things to return to normal.

What truly bothered Jonathan was the possibility that this was a pattern in Cynthia's past relationship with Filip. He feared she might forgive Filip and go back to him. He could never compete with their years together. Jonathan had met Cynthia when he was eight; for him, it was a life-altering moment, a two-decade-long search. For Cynthia, it was fleeting. This was something he couldn't compete with.

Cynthia took hold of his chin. "Jonathan, you don't have to beat around the bush. I've broken up with Filip, and that's final. Whatever he thinks or wants is irrelevant."

Jonathan felt relieved. His earlier words had been a subtle test of her resolve. Cynthia's response was exactly what he needed to hear. He shrugged. "I guess it's just because I'm insecure. You still won't make our relationship public."

Cynthia smiled radiantly. "Oh? Do you really want me to go public with us?"

Jonathan's expression turned serious. "Are you being serious?"

"Nope," she teased.

"You're always teasing me," Jonathan grumbled.

Cynthia turned back to the window, a faint smirk on her lips. Things between them were great—lovers, friends, and confidants. They understood each other perfectly, knowing that if they ever parted, there would be no regrets.

That night, Jonathan was insistent, clinging to Cynthia with an insatiable desire. As dawn approached, Cynthia grew exasperated. "Jonathan, do you even know what time it is? Don't you have work in a few hours?"

Her damp hair clung to her flushed cheek. A faint glow of dawn broke on the horizon, highlighting a subtle allure in her exhaustion. She glanced out the window, noting the… (The passage cuts off here).