Year After Year Infatuated

Julian Vance claimed Vivienne would only stay for one night, yet when evening came and he returned home from work, Vivienne was still sitting there comfortably.

She tearfully complained to Julian Vance that her apartment had developed new problems and remained uninhabitable for the time being.

Julian Vance gave me a hesitant look: “She stayed yesterday, staying another day doesn’t make much difference.”

His tone wasn’t asking for my opinion, but rather announcing a unilateral decision.

I said nothing, silently counting down the time until my departure in my heart.

However, Vivienne insisted on acting spoiled and demanding to cook dinner herself. Naturally, the cooking went awry and nearly caused a kitchen fire; in rushing to save her, Julian Vance badly burned his hand.

When I stepped into the kitchen, I found Vivienne clutching Julian Vance’s hand, weeping profusely: “I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault…”

Spotting me, Julian Vance abruptly jerked his hand away: “Evelyn…”

I apathetically withdrew my gaze.

Just as I turned to leave, Julian Vance hesitated before stepping forward to block my path.

He deliberately exposed his injured hand right in front of me, an obvious prompt for me to fetch the medical kit and tend to his wound.

Had it been the old me, seeing him hurt even slightly would have sent me rushing to treat his injuries first thing.

Yet today, I simply looked at him blandly: “What is it?”

His body stiffened slightly before his face morphed into an expectant, aggrieved reminder:

“My hand got burned.”

“Is it serious?”

“… It’s alright.”

His tone sounded somewhat dry.

“Oh, good thing it’s not serious then.”

I stepped around him and headed upstairs.

Before closing my bedroom door, I vaguely heard Vivienne solicitously offering to apply ointment for him.

I gave a self-deprecating smirk.

He had never lacked people willing to fuss over him, after all.

Tonight, I locked my door once more.

I figured he would behave like the previous night and refuse to return.

Or even if he noticed, he wouldn’t demand that I unlock it.

Yet as I drifted into sleep, the door was battered by heavy, aggressive knocks.

Julian Vance’s voice was laced with boiling fury: “Evelyn, what on earth is wrong with you! Locking your door on me two nights in a row, open this door right now!”

“If you don’t open this door today, nobody gets to sleep.”

His tone carried a stubborn, raspy defiance. Even when Vivienne walked over to speak with him, he snapped furiously: “Go back to sleep, stay out of our business.”

I walked over and unlocked the door, expecting to face Julian Vance’s rage-contorted face, but instead found him squatting desolately outside, staring up at me: “Evelyn…”

Disregarding Vivienne standing frozen off to the side, he shoved me back into the room and slammed the door shut.

He pulled me into an embrace, burying his face in the crook of my neck to pout: “You’ve been acting a bit strange lately.”

“I told you I haven’t been feeling well lately and want to sleep alone. Aren’t there plenty of empty rooms in the house?”

“I want to sleep with you.”

Suppressing my nausea, I pushed him back just as Vivienne’s voice sounded through the door: “Are you two alright?”

Julian Vance was the first to let go of me, his voice steady: “Nothing’s wrong. It’s late, go back and rest.”

“Are you really sure?”

Relentless as ever, Vivienne clearly had no intention of leaving.

The two of them resumed chatting back and forth through the bedroom door.

Feeling exhausted, I interrupted Julian Vance: “I’m sleepy. Why don’t you go outside and talk to her first?”

“Alright, alright, if you’re sleepy we’ll sleep, I’m not talking to her anymore.”

Ignoring Vivienne completely, he pushed me down onto the bed. I tried to pull away, but he stubbornly refused to let go.

Utterly drained, seeing that he had no further untoward intentions, I swallowed my disgust and closed my eyes.

I would wait until he fell fast asleep, then slip down to the sofa.

Opening my eyes at dawn, I found Julian Vance sitting right across from me, staring down at me:

“What is the meaning of this?”

I calmly sat up: “It was hot last night.”

Before he could say more, Vivienne began knocking on the door outside.

True to expectation, Vivienne insisted on continuing her stay here.

This time, Julian Vance didn’t even bother consulting me; he shot me a glance, his tone carrying a trace of irritation: “If she wants to stay, she stays. No need to ask her.”

“Right, no need to ask me. She can stay as long as she likes.”

I calmly accepted his words.

Julian Vance choked.

He opened his mouth to argue for a long moment before giving up, leaving his expression even uglier than before.

Pretending to be entirely oblivious, I walked out, got into my own car, and drove straight to company.

Breakfast remained unmade once more.