Chapter 2

I watched Dorian place the drunken Celeste on the sofa and wipe her face with a hot towel.

“…You’re pregnant. You shouldn’t drink so much.”

He spoke in a low voice, yet his tone was gentle, just like he used to scold her for not paying attention in class.

Celeste didn’t seem to hear, muttering about a headache.

Dorian chuckled softly, helping her up, his long fingers pressing gently on her forehead, from her brow to her temples, then behind her ears.

It was a tender scene, and my heart tightened, as if it had stopped for a few seconds, then furiously started beating again.

For a moment, I was lost in thought.

Back when we’d just graduated college, Dorian’s grandmother passed away. And Celeste’s parents, due to Dorian’s family background, refused to let them be together, forcing Celeste into an arranged marriage.

During those six gloomy months, I stayed by Dorian’s side, helping him through it all, little by little.

Six months later, he accepted my confession.

Later, he decided to start his own business and often went out for drinks.

I would clean him up, cook him hangover soup, and take care of him all night long.

The next day, my eyes would be dark, looking utterly exhausted. Dorian would gaze at me for a long time, sigh, and then have me lay my head on his lap, massaging my temples.

I was a little overwhelmed, yet the gentle pressure was so comforting that I started acting playfully.

“Dorian, you’re not allowed to massage anyone else’s head, okay?”

As soon as I said it, I regretted it.

Just as I was about to backtrack, I heard Dorian chuckle softly above me: “Okay.”

He said, “Okay.”

But.

Of course, Celeste wasn’t “anyone else.”

I was just a sudden exception for Dorian, while she was, and always had been, his preference.