Chapter 3

"You look stunning, Joyce!" Finley exclaimed, his eyes shining, brimming with possessiveness.

When I passed by, Joyce shot me a look, then moved right up to Finley, her voice soft and seductive. "Fin, can you help me with this zipper?"

Finley gave me a pointed look, pretending to hesitate. "Joyce, are you sure that's okay? Isn't it better to let Harry help you?"

Joyce snorted. "What? Why would it not be okay? Just do it."

And right in front of me, she let Finley zip up her dress and walked out, linking her arm with him intimately.

I knew she was trying to provoke me.

In the past, seeing her act so close to Finley would've driven me mad—I'd have stopped her from leaving.

Now, I felt nothing but calm.

Late that night, I was suddenly woken by a call.

It was Joyce's best friend, Queenie Stone.

"Harry, Joyce's drunk—come get her at the Imperial Club!"

She even sent a photo. In it, Joyce was leaning against Finley, holding him closely around the neck.

In the past, Joyce's friends had always disliked me, thought I was lame, and secretly rooted for Joyce and Finley to be together.

Now, for the first time, one of them was calling me to pick Joyce up.

I was puzzled when suddenly I heard the sound of glass shattering over the phone.

Joyce yelled, "Stop calling him! I don't need him! He's broken up with me anyway! I'm going home with Fin tonight!"

Queenie quickly interjected, "Harry, if you don't come, Joyce will leave with Finley.

I yawned. "That's good. Finley's great at taking care of her."

With that, I hung up and went back to sleep.

Some time later, I heard the front door open.

A few moments later, my bedroom door was pushed open.

Joyce stormed in, pointing at me. "Harry, why didn't you come get me? Aren't you afraid something might happen between Fin and me?"

I rubbed my bleary eyes, my mind still foggy.

Back then, if Joyce stayed out late and ignored my calls, I'd search everywhere for her.

When I finally found her at a bar, she'd yelled at me in front of everyone.

"Harry, why are you so controlling? I need my freedom!"

I could still remember the mocking looks her friends had shot me.

This time, I kept my distance, and yet Joyce still came at me like I'd done something wrong.

I was genuinely dumbfounded.

I took a deep breath and said calmly, "You're an adult. You know your limits. Besides, you're supposed to live your life freely and do whatever you want."

Joyce froze for a moment at my calmness.

She stared at my face for a long beat, then a glint of realization flickered in her eyes. A faint, half-smile tugged at her lips as she said, "So you are jealous. That photo Queenie sent… I just stumbled and ended up in Fin's arms by accident."

I yawned and looked at the time. It was two in the morning.

Joyce continued, "If it bothers you that much, I can just bring you along next time I go drinking."

When I didn't reply, she hesitated, then grew a bit impatient. "You'd only be happy if I stopped seeing Fin entirely, right?"

I shook my head helplessly. "No. I trust there's nothing going on between you two."

I couldn't help but yawn again. "I'm tired. Can we talk tomorrow?"

A hint of hurt crossed Joyce's face, and her gaze held a perplexity I couldn't quite decipher.

A few seconds later, she suddenly stepped forward, slipped off her coat, climbed onto the bed, and wrapped her arms around me. In a low voice, she said, "Harry, what's going on? Are you upset because I've been cold toward you these past few days? I'll make it up to you now, okay?"

Her hands drifted downward.

Back then, if she had done something like this, I would've jumped at the chance.

Now, I stopped her. "Sorry… I'm too tired. Not in the mood."

Joyce's face went rigid, then she suddenly erupted in anger. She slapped me hard, cursed at me, and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.