It was strange.

Not having someone as unbearable and egocentric as Naoya Zenin around was strange—especially after you'd gotten used to his presence.

You broke up. Obviously you broke up. Naoya was too controlling, too possessive, too jealous. He always knew you were the type of woman who would never bow down to any man, and with him it wouldn't be any different. And what bothered him most was realizing you missed that.

But he'd rather rip his own throat out than admit it out loud.

So, when you broke up, Naoya didn't change much. He continued showing up on missions you were on, continued sending servants to watch over you, to deliver things he bought for you—not because he was thoughtful. And the most inconvenient thing of all: the Zenin clan still called you to meetings and important matters.

It was on one of these occasions that you met again.

You had made it clear that you no longer had any relationship with him, and that opened the door for comments.

"If Naoya can't keep his own wife by his side, how can he control the entire clan?"

Your body collided forcefully against the balcony pillar. The silence of the place made your sigh sound almost humiliating. The few servants present didn't dare interrupt, much less remain near a… hurt? Naoya.

The long fingers of his right hand found your jaw. Naoya raised your face to look at him; the grip was strong, very strong, enough to leave marks, but never enough to hurt. Naoya might be the typical chauvinist, but with you he found no pleasure in hurting. His left hand rested on the pillar beside your head.

Your jaw ached under his fingers. Not exactly from the force—although Naoya never knew how to measure his own intensity—but from the way he held you. As if he were trying to prevent you from disappearing for the second time.

His clear eyes remained fixed on hers: hard, angry, dangerously silent.

And that was the worst part.

Because Naoya wasn't a silent man. He always had something acidic to say, always carried an arrogant comment stuck in his throat. Silence meant something else for him. Something uglier.

The wind from the balcony lightly rustled the sleeves of his kimono.

"Do you like this?" he asked suddenly, cruelly, breaking the silence. His voice was low. Controlled. Cold enough to hide what he really wanted to say.

"Did you enjoy hearing those idiots talking as if you'd discarded me?"

His fingers tightened slightly on your face when you didn't answer immediately.

"Those useless old men…" he let out a short, humorless laugh. "They think they can open their mouths because you're not with me anymore."

It was laden with venom, but also with resentment. Because, in his twisted mind, the breakup had never truly been accepted. You simply left before he could decide what to do.

Naoya tilted his head slightly, analyzing you. His gaze traveled down your face as if searching for some specific reaction. Anger. Regret. Longing.

Anything.

You felt his thumb slowly slide along your jaw, almost distractedly.

"You know what's irritating?" he continued. "I spend weeks listening to weaklings whispering your name in the clan corridors… as if you were now free."

His eyes darkened. His hand resting on the pillar closed slowly. The wood creaked under the pressure. Naoya brought his face even closer to yours, close enough for you to smell the faint scent of incense and cursed iron clinging to it—and for him to feel an incoherent urge to bury his face in your neck.

"And then I see you coming in here today…" his voice trailed off even more, "...and I realize I still want to break the neck of any man who looks at you for more than five seconds."

That was practically a confession coming from him. The closest thing to "I missed you" that Naoya Zenin could offer without feeling his own pride rot.

But he hated realizing it.

You could see it in the way his jaw clenched. In the way his fingers trembled slightly against your skin, irritated with themselves.

Then, inevitably, he would turn vulnerability into aggression again.

It was his pattern.