Wild Affection

Elizabeth Black emerged from the medical laboratory, too preoccupied to feel tired as she hurriedly recorded the experimental data. She was preparing her graduate thesis, and this set of data was crucial.

Gloria Tuttle, a fellow lab member, tapped on her desk. "Elizabeth, your phone has been vibrating non-stop."

Elizabeth Black paused, thanked Gloria Tuttle, and picked up her phone.

There were 41 unread messages, all from William Moore—her boyfriend.

— Elizabeth Black! Why aren't you answering my calls?

— Are you with Gloria Tuttle again?

— You must be with him. Didn't I tell you he has feelings for you? Are you doing this on purpose? Enjoying the attention from men?

— Why didn't you answer the question I asked last night?

— Are you still a virgin?

— I'm at my wits' end!

— Many beautiful women have liked me, but I chose you, and you gave your most precious thing to someone else!

— Elizabeth Black, I love you so much, why do you always disappoint me?

Elizabeth Black had no patience to read further. This wasn't the first time William Moore had bombarded her with such messages. It was time to end it.

As she packed up her notes, she thought about how to phrase it. After leaving the lab, she called William Moore. The call connected quickly, and his voice boomed through the speaker, clearly in some entertainment venue.

"Elizabeth Black, do you think I'm dead?" William Moore shouted.

The words she had prepared suddenly seemed unnecessary. Elizabeth Black's eyes showed no emotion as she said, "Let's break up."

William Moore used to be a charming and vibrant young man, with a good sense of understanding and judgment. That was why she had agreed to give their relationship a try. But now, William Moore was acting like a madman, making their relationship unbearable.

After a moment of silence, William Moore screamed, "Bastard! Idiot! Elizabeth Black, are you happy seeing me go crazy for you? Elizabeth Black, you have no heart!"

Elizabeth Black: "..."

Perhaps sensing that she was about to hang up, William Moore yelled, "Let's meet! We need to talk! You can't treat my feelings like this!"

"There's no need to meet. Besides, I don't think you have any real feelings for me. You're just self-indulging and emotionally manipulating me," Elizabeth Black replied.

William Moore went berserk: "Do you want me to die? I'm at Tonight. If you don't come, I'll kill myself!"

Elizabeth Black fell silent for a moment.

"Then go ahead and die."

She never imagined William Moore could stoop so low. Less than a minute after hanging up, William Moore sent a picture of himself holding a fruit knife. Five minutes later, he sent another photo, this time of a pool of blood.

Elizabeth Black had no idea what he was up to. After much hesitation, she hailed a taxi to Tonight. On the way, she recalled the accusations, insults, and harassment from William Moore, breaking out in a cold sweat. She couldn't let herself be dragged down by him, feeling like an unworthy person who didn't deserve his love. William Moore's behavior was increasingly similar to that of an emotional abuser. She needed to end this tonight.

Upon arriving, William Moore tried to drag her into a private room.

"No, we can talk here," she refused.

"Here?" William Moore laughed eerily. "Not here. I want to take some photos of you."

"What kind of photos?"

Elizabeth Black observed him closely and noticed no signs of blood loss.

"You gave your most precious thing to another man, while I gave you my true feelings and got nothing. It's unfair. I want you to give me a set of nude photos. I promise only I will see them."

William Moore spoke as if it were the most normal request. Elizabeth Black turned pale. She knew William Moore was crazy, but not to this extent. A wave of nausea washed over her. Before William Moore could grab her, she kicked him in the groin. He doubled over in pain, and she seized the opportunity to escape.

But the bar's layout was complex, and she couldn't find the exit, ending up in the fire escape. In the dimly lit corridor, a red cigarette tip flickered. Startled, Elizabeth Black realized a man was standing there. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing lean arms. His features were hidden in the shadows, but his presence was unmistakable. He held a cigarette between his long fingers, the ash falling to the ground, exuding a wild aura.

Elizabeth Black felt his gaze on her.

"Mrs. Washington, since my marriage issue is so urgent, should I just pick someone off the street tomorrow and get married?"

The man was on the phone, laughing with a hint of sarcasm. Elizabeth Black froze at the sound of his voice. After a moment, he ended the call and stepped out of the shadows. His face became clear, with perfect, deep-set features, strikingly handsome.

Elizabeth Black stood still until his face was inches from hers, forcing her to look up.

"Do you... need something?" she took a small step back.

His thin lips curved, tinged with a mischievous smile.

"Nothing." He stared at her for a while. "You look a bit like Nydia Leighton."

Nydia Leighton, a rising star. Elizabeth Black did bear a resemblance to Nydia Leighton, which made her somewhat famous in school. People often said there was a mini-Nydia Leighton in the plastic surgery department.

"Rupert Washington," Elizabeth Black suddenly called out.

The man, about to leave, stopped and looked at her, following the line of her slender wrist to her Nydia Leighton-like face. Surprisingly, he didn't walk away.

"Do you know me?" he raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I'm also from Harvard University, three years below you."

Just as she finished speaking, the door to the corridor burst open, and William Moore came running in!

"Elizabeth Black! How dare you hit me! What's wrong with you? We need to talk today!"

In the split second before William Moore reached her, Elizabeth Black instinctively hid behind Rupert Washington. William Moore faced Rupert Washington head-on.

"Who are you? I advise you not to meddle; she's my girlfriend!"

William Moore was aggressive, pointing at Rupert Washington as if he were a gun. Most people wouldn't dare to intervene, especially in someone else's "personal matter." But today, he had encountered someone who wasn't ordinary.

Rupert Washington wiped the spittle from his face and, without hesitation, kicked William Moore to the ground.

"Where do you think you're spraying that?" he said, raising an eyebrow, his tone slow and menacing, like a street thug.

William Moore, dazed from the kick, realized he had provoked the wrong person and cowered, too scared to even cry.

Rupert Washington took the tissue Elizabeth Black offered and wiped his face, staring at her as if to say, "I'm dirty and I'm pissed, but I won't kick you because you look like Nydia Leighton."

Elizabeth Black quickly explained, "He's not my boyfriend anymore. We broke up. He wanted to take nude photos of me, and I refused, so... Senior, please help me."

Her last word, "Senior," was soft and clear. Rupert Washington felt a tickle in his hand, the disgust from the spittle dissipating. He patted Elizabeth Black's head.

"Junior, huh."

Elizabeth Black froze. Rupert Washington's sharp gaze returned to William Moore. Before he could say "Get lost," William Moore bolted.

Rupert Washington, eager to clean his face, left Elizabeth Black with the advice, "Don't pick boyfriends from the trash," and turned to leave. But she grabbed his sleeve.

He was about to say, "Are you done yet?" when he met her sincere, earnest eyes. The words changed to, "Is there something else?"

"Yes," Elizabeth Black nodded, speaking firmly. "Senior, instead of picking someone off the street to marry, why don't you consider me?"

Her gaze was resolute, meeting his. But her fingers, hidden in her sleeves, trembled slightly.