All Chapters of She, His Enigma: Chapter 111 - Chapter 120

The hand under his trembled slightly, her eyelashes flicked. Iden's body stiffened, rigid, and his heart throbbed violently. He clenched his hand, his eyes focused on her. Her eyes weren't focused, but she slowly opened them and tried to say something. "Laaya," he whispered. Finally, the tear he had been holding back fell down his cheeks, and he didn't even realize it. "Iden," she spoke softly. Her eyes were still not focused and fluttered twice before she finally shut them again. "Ellaya," he called out, his voice laced with panic. The doctors rushed in. "She... she just opened her eyes," he said anxiously, gently rubbing her hand. "Don't worry, Mr. Ruan. She's out of the coma now," the doctor reassured him. Iden exhaled deeply, nodding silently, his gaze fixed on her pale face and the steady rise and fall of her breaths. Every passing moment felt like agony to him. Guilt, a sensation foreign to him until now, gnawed at his insides, tormenting him with every breath. At

Iden leaned back, a devilish grin spreading across his face, eyes sparkling with malice. “This is for thinking about my woman the wrong way, Alex,” he sneered, his voice smooth yet laced with venom. “And for the girls whose lives you ruined.” Alex's breath quickened, panic flaring in his chest as he clutched his neck, feeling the warmth of the poison seeping into his veins. “You son of a bitch,” he gasped, desperation coursing through him. “You can kill me, but not him. He would never let her go, never.” His voice faltered, each word strained as the poison began to tighten its grip. Iden froze for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he locked onto Alex. Kai and Annabel spun around, concern etched across their faces. Iden moved in close, gripping Alex's hair tightly, forcing him to look up. “Who is he?” His voice was low and menacing, a growl that sent shivers down the spine. Alex, however, just grinned defiantly through the pain, his eyes sparkling with defiance. Iden lifted him

It had been weeks since Ellaya woke up. Though her physical injuries were healing, she seemed to be a shadow of her former self. She had shut herself off completely, retreating into a silent world where no one could reach her. Iden never brought up Uncle Richard, and she didn’t seem inclined to talk about him either. Their unspoken agreement to avoid the topic only deepened the growing chasm between them. Iden rarely visited the hospital, but when he did, he lingered outside her door, never stepping in for more than a brief glance. The once vibrant and animated Ellaya sat on the hospital bed one sunny morning, staring out of the window. The sunlight poured in, illuminating her frail figure. She had lost so much weight that her clothes hung loosely on her, and the dark circles under her eyes revealed the sleepless nights she endured. Her hands rested idly in her lap, motionless, and her lips trembled faintly, as though she wanted to speak but had forgotten how. Iden had seen many

“I’m here to take you home,” Iden said, his voice warm, but his hand on her cheek was cold—a stark contrast to his words. Ellaya didn’t respond. She didn’t flinch. She just sat there, numb, too numb to react. It felt like a dream, fragile and fleeting. She was terrified to move, scared that if she did, the illusion would shatter, and he would vanish like smoke. “Laaya, say something. Anything,” he urged, his tone soft, almost pleading. It was the same voice she had fallen in love with, the one that once made her feel safe. A single tear slipped down her cheek, warm and lonely. Before it could fall, his thumb brushed it away, just as he used to. The familiarity of the gesture broke something inside her, and she leaned forward, wrapping her arms around him. His embrace was strong, warm, and all-encompassing. For a fleeting moment, she felt secure, as though his arms could shield her from the cruelty of the world. “I haven’t done anything,” she whispered, her voice cracking under the

Iden yanked the car door open and slid into the driver’s seat, slamming it shut with enough force to shake the vehicle. His chest heaved with suppressed rage, his jaw locked so tightly it felt like his teeth would crack. His fingers wrapped around the steering wheel, knuckles blanching as he gripped it hard enough to hurt. The engine roared to life, the growl of it mirroring the storm swirling inside him. Without hesitation, he slammed his foot onto the accelerator, sending the car flying down the road like a bullet from a gun. In the wing-mirror mirror, his eyes caught sight of her—Ellaya. She was curled up on the floor, her small frame swallowed by the darkness. Though her face was hidden, he could see it in the way she sat: her shoulders hunched, her arms wrapped around herself, her soul crumbling. Her despair hung in the air like a weight he couldn’t ignore. His chest ached with an intensity that made him want to scream. Instead, he muttered under his breath, voice hoarse, “Fuck,