12 — A Different Morning

Camelia grabbed Daren’s wrist just as the man was about to leave.

“Darling, why are you getting up in such a hurry?” she said softly, though there was pressure in her voice. “Where are you going this early?”

Daren turned and looked at Camelia’s face.

“Let go first. I am going home.”

“But I still miss you,” Camelia tried to hold him back, this time with a forced smile.

“I said, let go.” Daren’s tone was low and firm. “I have stayed with you all night. Is that not enough?” he added.

Camelia fell silent. Slowly, her fingers loosened their grip. Daren pulled away without looking back and immediately walked off, leaving Camelia staring at his retreating back with her jaw clenched.

A few minutes later, Daren arrived at the large house, which felt unusually quiet as he stepped inside. He immediately hurried upstairs.

“Liora?” he called briefly.

There was no answer. He opened the bedroom door—empty. The bed was neat. Too neat.

Daren let out a rough breath and stepped out, walking down the hallway, opening one room after another. The study, the reading room, the kitchen—nothing.

“Where did she go?” he muttered.

Just as he was about to go downstairs, his steps stopped when he saw Martina coming out of the dining room.

“Mom,” Daren greeted quickly. “Where is Liora?”

Martina frowned. “Wasn’t she with you?”

Daren stared at his mother sharply. “What do you mean?”

“Liora’s room was empty last night,” Martina replied casually. “I thought she went with you.”

“She was not with me,” Daren answered, his tone beginning to rise.

Martina fell silent as well. “Then… where did she go?”

Daren took out his phone and dialed Liora’s number. It was inactive. His jaw tightened.

The apartment grew quiet again after Ethan closed the door from the inside.

He placed the keys on the table, right beside several shopping bags he had brought earlier. Without delay, Ethan arranged everything neatly—women’s clothes, personal items, and a box of breakfast that was still warm. He stared at the table for a long moment.

Nothing had changed physically. Yet his feelings were no longer the same as last night.

“For this time, let it be like this,” he murmured. “You do not need to know that I brought you here last night.”

Ethan rubbed his face slowly, then took a deep breath. He knew his decision was the right one. Liora must not be involved with him any further. Not now. Never. He glanced toward the main bedroom. The door was still tightly closed.

Ethan had no intention of going there, let alone waking Liora. Instead, he chose to distance himself before the situation became more complicated than it should be.

“Keeping my distance from her is the only way so that we are nothing more than in-laws,” he muttered heavily, as if unwilling.

Without looking back, Ethan took his jacket and stepped out of the apartment.

The door closed again, leaving behind silence—and something he deliberately left behind.

Morning light slipped through the gaps in the curtains.

Liora stirred slowly, her brows knitting together.

Her head felt heavy. Her throat was dry. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

“Ah! My head hurts so much… huff, this must be because I drank too much,” she muttered, lowering her hand and scanning the room.

Degh!

“W-where am I?” Liora froze when she realized the unfamiliar surroundings.

She went silent. Staring at the ceiling, she then sat up halfway. Hesitantly, she pulled aside the blanket. As she straightened her body, she noticed something that made her chest tighten—she was wearing an oversized man’s shirt.

“W-wait… whose shirt is this? This is not Daren’s,” she panicked. Her heart pounded rapidly, afraid her thoughts might become reality.

“I-I did not do that again with another man, did I? I hope not,” she prayed, terrified at the thought of a one-night stand with a different man.

Fragments of last night’s memories surfaced vaguely. A car. A man’s voice. A basement. An unfamiliar scent that somehow felt warm. But the man’s face remained unclear.

Liora got out of bed and walked into the living room. Her gaze fell on the dining table. Several shopping bags were neatly arranged—women’s clothes and breakfast.

But there was no one there. Liora’s heart began to beat faster.

Degh.

“Oh my God… it is already morning and I have not gone home?” she muttered in confusion. “What should I do? Mother and Daren will definitely be angry with me.”

Not wanting to linger, Liora quickly grabbed the paper bag, took the clothes, and changed.

“Now I have to think of the right words to answer their questions,” she monologued.

Her hands trembled slightly, her thoughts in chaos. She did not want to think about the worst possibility. She knew only one thing—she had to go home immediately.