Morning ☀️
Aria slowly opened her eyes, the soft light from the window falling gently across the room.
For a moment, she didn't move. She just lay there… staring at the ceiling, a small, quiet smile on her lips that hid her growing worry, making readers feel her vulnerability and concern.
Her smile grew.
Without even thinking, she turned slightly, her hand reaching out across the bed—wanting to feel him, to pull him closer, to hide in his arms just a little longer.
But—
Her hand touched nothing. Space.
Her brows slowly furrowed. She turned her head. The other side of the bed was empty. Cold.
"…Ryan?" she called softly.
No response.
She sat up, looking around the room properly this time—still no sign of him.
A small pout formed on her lips. "Where is he now…" she muttered under her breath.
She pushed the covers off and got out of bed, stretching slightly as she walked toward the bathroom. Maybe he was inside.
But the moment she stepped in—she paused. Everything was already neat. Too neat. The faint scent of his cologne still lingered in the air, and the floor was slightly damp.
"He already took a shower…" she whispered.
So he had been here recently, but his sudden disappearance without a word made her worry more, deepening the suspense and her emotional investment.
She sighed softly, feeling a strange emptiness settle in her chest. After a few minutes, she got herself ready quickly and headed downstairs, her steps a little faster than usual.
He had to be in the dining room. He always was.
But when she got there—nothing. No Ryan. The chair he usually sat in was empty. The table was already cleared.
Her heart sank just a little. A maid walked past, and Aria quickly stopped her.
"Have you seen Ryan?" she asked.
The maid bowed her head slightly. "Sir left early this morning, ma'am."
Aria blinked. "…Early?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Aria nodded slowly. "Oh… okay."
She forced a small smile and let the maid go, but her chest tightened with a growing sense of unease, making her feel more vulnerable and heightening emotional engagement.
"Why didn't he wake me up…?" she murmured.
She reached for her phone almost immediately. Maybe he was just busy. Maybe he forgot. She dialled his number.
It rang. Once. Twice. Three times.
No answer.
She frowned slightly. "Pick up…" she whispered.
The call ended. She tried again. Same thing. Again. And again. Still nothing.
Her grip on the phone tightened just a little. "Ryan…"
She tried one more time—but this time, the call didn't even go through.
She stared at her screen, confusion and a growing sense of helplessness washing over her, leaving her vulnerable and heightening suspense about his whereabouts.
The house suddenly felt… too quiet. Too empty. Aria's heart sank as unease crept in, making her feel vulnerable and uncertain about why she felt off, heightening emotional engagement.
Somewhere Else
Ryan stood in front of her, tall and unmoving, his presence pressing down like a weight, creating a tense atmosphere that drew the audience into the suspense.
"Ryan… I said I'm sorry," she started, her voice softer than usual.
No response. He just looked at her—cold, detached. It made her uncomfortable.
"I did everything because I love you," she continued, her voice shaking slightly. "I've known you all my life. We grew up together. I've been your best friend since we were kids—"
Ryan's expression didn't change. Not even a little.
"And now you just found yourself another girl like that?" she added, frustration creeping in. "Just like that, Ryan?"
Silence. Then—he spoke. Low. Sharp. Kim's stomach clenched as she waited for his words, feeling a mix of far and hope that made her heart race.
"Are you done?"
Kim froze. "…What?"
Ryan tilted his head slightly, his eyes dark. "I didn't come here to listen to your feelings."
The words landed hard. Kim's face fell instantly.
"Ryan—"
"I came here," he cut in, his tone flat, "because you made her cry."
Silence. Heavy. Kim blinked. "…What?"
His gaze didn't leave hers. "You went to her aunt," he continued. "You lied. You humiliated her." Each word was precise. Controlled. Dangerous.
Kim stood up slowly. "I didn't lie. I just told her what it looked like—"
Ryan took a step forward. That was enough to shut her up.
"I don't care what it looked like," he said coldly. "You don't speak about her. You don't go near her family. You don't involve yourself in anything that concerns her."
Kim stared at him, hurt flashing across her face. "I did it because I love you!" she snapped.
Ryan didn't even blink. "That's your problem."
Her breath hitched. "I've loved you for years!" she added, her voice breaking. "And you just replaced me like I meant nothing!"
Ryan's expression hardened even more. "I never asked you to love me."
The words were brutal. Final. Kim's eyes filled with tears.
"You didn't stop me either…" she whispered.
Ryan shrugged slightly. "That still doesn't make it my responsibility."
She shook her head, stepping closer. "So what? You love her now?"
Ryan didn't hesitate. "Yes." The answer was instant. Cold. Certain.
Kim let out a shaky laugh. "…More than me?"
Ryan looked at her like the question didn't even matter. "There is no 'you' in this," he said flatly.
That broke something in her expression. "But I've been here!" she cried. "I've always been the one by your side!"
Ryan's voice dropped lower. "And you should've stayed in that position."
Silence. Then—he stepped closer, close enough that his presence alone made her step back slightly.
"This is the last time you cross the line," he said. His tone was quiet, but dangerous. "If you ever go near her again… or try anything like that again—"
He leaned in slightly. "I won't come talk to you next time."
Kim's breath caught. Ryan straightened, fixing his sleeve like the conversation was already over.
"You've known me long enough to understand what that means."
Silence filled the room. Kim didn't speak. She couldn't. Because she knew—he wasn't warning her. He was promising.
Ryan didn't wait for a response. He didn't even look at her, not once, like she didn't matter anymore. Like the conversation was already over the moment he finished speaking.
He turned and walked out. Calm. Unbothered. Cold.
The door opened—then shut behind him. Kim stood there, frozen, staring at nothing. Because she knew… there was nothing left to say.
Outside, Ryan walked straight to his car. No hesitation. No second thoughts. He opened the door, got in, and slammed it shut.
The engine started immediately. His grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel as he drove off. His expression was dark, unreadable. But one thing was clear—he meant every word.
Ryan didn't play when it came to Aria. Not even a little. She wasn't just someone in his life. She wasn't just a girl he liked. She was his. His peace. His weakness. His control… and the only person who could take it away from him.
And to him—that made her something far more dangerous than anything else. She was his princess. And anyone who tried to hurt her… would have to deal with a side of him they wouldn't survive.
Long moments later…
The road stretched ahead, quiet and almost empty. Ryan drove in silence, one hand on the wheel, his expression still cold, his mind somewhere else.
Aria. Her tears. The way she looked at him.
His grip on the steering wheel tightened slightly.
Then—out of nowhere—a loud horn blasted.
Ryan's head snapped up. A massive truck came speeding toward him from the side, completely out of control. Too fast. Too close.
"Damn—"
Impact.
A deafening crash filled the air as the truck slammed into his car. Everything flipped. Metal screeched. Glass shattered. The world spun violently.
Then—silence. Heavy. Ringing.
The car was upside down, smoke slowly rising. Ryan's vision blurred for a second, his head throbbing, his body aching from the impact. Blood trickled slightly from his forehead.
"…Tch," he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to stay conscious.
His hand moved, gripping onto something as he pushed himself up slightly despite the sharp pain shooting through his body. His knee hurt badly. His arm wasn't any better. But he didn't stop.
Ryan forced the door open and dragged himself out of the flipped car, landing roughly on the ground. He steadied himself, breathing heavily for a second.
Then—car doors slammed. Multiple.
Ryan's head lifted slowly. The truck that hit him had stopped. And now—men were stepping out. One. Two. Three. More. Each one holding thick sticks. Weapons.
Ryan's eyes darkened instantly. This wasn't an accident.
He straightened slightly, ignoring the pain in his knee as he stood his ground. One of the men smirked. "Well… he's still alive."
Ryan didn't say anything. His expression turned colder, sharper, dangerous. Even injured—he didn't look like a victim. He looked like a problem.
The men started walking toward him slowly, gripping their sticks tighter. Ryan flexed his injured hand slightly, his jaw tightening as pain shot through it. But he didn't step back. Not once.
Instead—he stood there. Waiting. Ready. Because if they thought hitting him with a truck would make this easy… they were about to learn the hard way.