Fated love: the unwanted bride

Their hurried breaths entwined with each other, melting into the thick night.

Rain fell behind them, a torrential downpour.

Under the dim eaves, only their breaths mingled lingeringly.

Sylvan Cheney seemed unwilling to let Jasmine Yale go; even as she whimpered softly, gasping for air, he didn’t release her.

This kiss was more intense than any before.

Jasmine Yale was like a fragile kitten, pinned beneath him, unable to move.

The kiss was long and unending.

For a long time, like a century, he finally let her go.

His lips were filled with Jasmine Yale’s breath as he gazed at her, eyes deep, lips pressed tight.

He watched her, continuously.

Jasmine Yale’s lips were imbued with his breath, her eyes layered with both confusion and anger. She raised her hand, about to slap him.

Sylvan Cheney caught her wrist, holding her down.

"Sylvan Cheney, you madman! What do you take me for? You never respect me, never consider my thoughts. You kissing me only makes me feel disgusted."

Sylvan Cheney didn’t speak, just looked at her, not refuting, letting her vent.

The sound of rain was loud, and she no longer had the strength to scold.

After a few words, she stopped speaking, looking down at the shadows on the ground.

Their silhouettes overlapped and entwined, filling her with disgust.

She said nothing more; facing someone unwilling to converse, even berating lost its appeal.

How was this feeling any different from talking to air?

Silence, endless silence.

All around, there was only the infinite sound of rain and their entwined breaths.

Jasmine Yale’s chest heaved inconsistently, her emotions still fluctuating but gradually calming.

When she wasn’t speaking, Sylvan Cheney stayed silent too, just looking at her, quietly watching as if to etch her image into his heart.

His arm hurt where she had pinched it, but he seemed unfazed, as if he felt nothing.

Jasmine Yale knew that this state between them was called... speechless confrontation.

Neither had any interest in starting a conversation.

"Let go," Jasmine Yale finally spoke, raising her head to look at him again.

The rain behind him formed into a monochrome ink painting, obscured and unclear in the distance.

Sylvan Cheney’s body still pressed on her, but gradually, he loosened his hold.

From start to finish, aside from that kiss, he hadn’t said a word.

The corners of Jasmine Yale’s lips curled into a derisive arc... He had called her down, just to tease her, yet she had foolishly believed he would really stand in the rain all night.

The wind blew by, bringing waves of coolness.

Just as she was about to leave, he suddenly grasped her cold hands, holding tightly.

Jasmine Yale reflexively tried to pull away, but she reacted a moment too late.

Her hands were cold, but his hands were colder.

Their icy hands overlapped, devoid of any warmth, but his large hands could envelope her small hands within.

"Sylvan Cheney, if you can so easily take hold, why can’t you let go? I’m living well now, don’t disturb me anymore, consider it... a plea." Her humble plea fell into the void air, weak and faint.

He moved his lips, intending to say something, but in the end... said nothing, silently releasing her hand, with a flickering light in his eyes, like dim, uncertain lamps.

Once he let go, she pulled out her hand, gave him a little push, turned around, and walked towards the elevator without looking back.

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