Chapter 2

The bus rumbled and rattled to a stop at the station.

All along the way, Reuben tried multiple times to start a conversation with Phoebe, but she shut him down coldly every single time.

The moment they got home, she went straight back to her bedroom.

Reuben's reaching hand met thin air once again. Irritation spiked in his chest. His gaze swept around the apartment, only to freeze abruptly.

In the corner, the dirty clothes he had hastily shed a week ago were still sitting right where he left them. The used water cups and his discarded razor hadn't been washed either.

Meanwhile, everything belonging to Phoebe was immaculate and tidy, creating a sharp contrast with his mess.

It looked almost like… a line drawn in the sand.

A surge of baseless anger swept over him.

Reuben pushed open the bedroom door, only to find that the wedding photo Phoebe had always kept spotless was gone. Only the empty frame remained on the wall.

Reuben's heart skipped a beat. "Where's our wedding photo?"

Seeing Phoebe's icy gaze, he could no longer suppress his anger. "Are you throwing a fit with me? Phoebe, you're not a child anymore. If something is bothering you, say it out loud so we can talk about it."

"I'm not throwing a fit," Phoebe replied, as calm as ever. "Reuben, I'm tired. Let's—"

End this.

Her unspoken words were drowned out by the sudden ringing of the landline.

Reuben walked over to pick up the phone. On the other end was Emma's usual frantic voice. "Officer Lane, you need to come now! We need your help with a case! It's urgent…"

Phoebe calmly withdrew her gaze.

Three seconds later, Reuben hung up the phone and hastily put on his hat.

Before stepping out the door, he paused and turned back to look at Phoebe. "If you're tired, get some rest. Once things settle down, I'll take time off to be with you."

Phoebe didn't turn around.

After Reuben left, she resumed packing away her things.

She gathered up everything—the photos she'd once begged Reuben to take with her, the letters he'd sent to reassure her he was safe while away on assignments, and the maple leaves he'd casually given her.

Two hours later, Phoebe discovered Reuben's gun left behind at home.

She brought it over to the police station.

But when she pushed open the door to Reuben's lounge, she found Reuben and Emma leaning against each other on the couch, fast asleep. Emma was curled up in Reuben's arms, her arms and legs wrapped tightly around him.

Startled by the sound of the door opening, they both jolted awake immediately.

When Reuben spotted Phoebe, a flicker of guilt flashed in his eyes. "Phoebe, don't get the wrong idea. We were discussing the case and accidentally drifted off—"

"I know." Phoebe placed the gun on the table, turned around, and walked away.

Reuben stared at her retreating back, shocked. In the past, whenever she saw him get even slightly close to Emma, she would look hurt—even if she didn't throw a scene on the spot— and her eyes would be red-rimmed.

Yet today, she was extraordinarily calm. So calm that it made his chest tighten with dread.

Reuben abruptly grabbed her wrist to pull her back. He glared down at her, his voice heavy with suppressed anxiety. "Why aren't you angry?"

Phoebe smiled faintly. "You're comrades. She's just your trainee. I get it."

Her indifferent smile was particularly grating to Reuben.

Overwhelmed with frustration, he was about to explain further when a sudden gasp came from Emma, who had just stepped away.

Reuben's expression shifted, and he instantly let go of Phoebe's wrist to rush over.

Phoebe rubbed her reddened wrist.

From the adjacent room, she heard Emma's apologetic voice. "I'm so sorry, Officer Lane. I just wanted to help change the lightbulb. I didn't expect to lose my footing."

"It's fine," Reuben replied gently. "A young woman like you isn't meant for heavy chores. Let me handle it."

Phoebe paused mid-step. Her mind suddenly drifted back to the raw, chafed skin on her shoulders from carrying heavy coal briquettes, to the terrifying moments when she nearly got shocked changing lightbulbs, and the near-falls while patching up the leaky roof.

The corners of her mouth twitched into a bitter smile before she turned to walk away.

Passing by the adjacent room, Phoebe caught sight of Reuben standing on a stool changing the lightbulb while Emma stood below, steadying his legs with both hands.

Hearing the footsteps, Emma turned around. Her lips brushed past a sensitive spot near Reuben's inner thigh, and she flashed Phoebe a provocative smirk.

On top of the stool, Reuben's entire body visibly stiffened, yet he made no move to push her away.

Phoebe remained expressionless, turned around, and walked out.

Not long after leaving the police station, Phoebe keenly sensed subtle footsteps tailing her from behind. Her chest tightened.

Just as she braced to dash toward a busier street, a hard blow struck the back of her head.

A searing surge of pain ripped through her skull, and she blacked out completely.

When she woke up, she found herself tied to a chair inside a dilapidated old house, her mouth gagged.

A sinister-looking man holding a knife sneered with vicious delight. "You're finally awake."

The moment Phoebe saw his face, she suddenly remembered the newspaper article she'd read. He was Frederick Hall, a convicted criminal Reuben had once sent behind bars!

Frederick pressed the blade against Phoebe's cheek, his eyes gleaming with fury. "Reuben tore my family apart. I'll kill you today so he gets a taste of what it feels like to lose everything!"

With that, he raised the knife high and aimed it at Phoebe's chest.

Gagged and helpless, Phoebe couldn't even scream. She could only watch in terror as the gleaming blade lurched closer and closer.

Right at that split second, the old wooden door was kicked wide open. Reuben burst inside with Emma right behind him. "Phoebe!"