Chapter 7: Unwelcome Return

I woke up with a start. The sun was barely rising, slanting through the blinds in golden stripes.

Opening my eyes, I saw a familiar chin and Adam’s apple. For a moment, I thought I was still dreaming.

The scent hovering above me was Derek’s favorite cedar cologne, mixed with a faint, unfamiliar lemon. I wrinkled my nose, confused and a little scared.

I almost forgot—Derek always knew my door code. My parents had given it to him years ago, back when they trusted him to watch me when they worked late.

Seeing I was awake, Derek simply moved down, laughing as he tried to kiss my lips.

I quickly turned my head away, pushing him aside and dodging to the other side of the bed. My heart hammered in my chest—why was he here?

Derek paused, then laughed at me:

"Why so shy all of a sudden, huh?"

I didn’t answer, just pulled the blanket over my head. My hair stuck to my cheek, damp with sweat and shame.

Derek scolded me as he tried to pull the blanket away:

"Natalie, getting bold now, huh? Didn’t say goodnight to me last night, even dared to turn off your phone and sleep! Now you’re hiding from me?"

He moved quickly, slipping under the blanket in a flash. Before I could react, he’d already wrapped me in his arms.

Panic shot through me. I yanked the blanket tighter, my pulse thundering in my ears.

"Come on, how many times have I told you—you can’t skip breakfast!"

"I went for a half-hour morning run to get you your favorite cinnamon rolls, waited in line forever! Do you want to get up and eat now, or… be eaten first…"

His breath was so close, his hand following up. I stiffened, bile rising in my throat.

I snapped out of my daze and struggled desperately, but at 5’3”, I was no match for a 6’2” guy.

I really didn’t understand what he was thinking. He already had Lillian, so why come mess with me? My mind raced, trying to make sense of it, but nothing fit.

After a long struggle, panting, I still couldn’t break free—instead, he just hugged me tighter. The more I pushed, the tighter he clung, like a kid refusing to give up his favorite toy.

"What’s wrong now?"

"Angry because I didn’t take you to the party last night?"

I said nothing. I stared at the wall, counting the cracks in the paint, willing myself not to cry.

He buried his head in my neck and laughed:

"Let me guess—your good friend tipped you off? Just playing games, is that worth being jealous about? Why are you still like before, sulking every time I get close to another girl!"

I was so angry I didn’t even know where to start. I wanted to scream, to throw something, but my voice caught in my throat.

Remembering what I’d learned during self-defense class, I suddenly kneed him between the legs. Taking advantage of his pain, I quickly jumped out of bed. The move was automatic—a desperate burst of freedom.

"Natalie!"

Derek gritted his teeth, his face flushed red. He clutched himself and glared at me, but I refused to apologize.

I hurriedly threw on a coat over my pajamas and rushed to the living room. The cold laminate floor stung my bare feet. I didn’t want to be in the same room with him, especially not my bedroom.

Soon after, Derek came out too, looking both angry and helpless. He muttered something under his breath, but I ignored him, curling up on the edge of the couch.

After a moment, as if remembering something, he casually asked:

"By the way, you took that medicine yesterday, right? Don’t cause any trouble, or I can’t explain to your parents!"

He walked over to the dining table, picked up the orange juice, and handed it to me:

"Don’t be dramatic. Eat your breakfast before you make yourself sick."

I didn’t answer or take it. My hands were locked together, white-knuckled.

Derek’s hand, holding the juice, hung in the air for a long time before he finally lost patience:

"What’s your problem, anyway? Natalie, even if you’re going to throw a tantrum, at least have a reason and a limit, right?"

I replied coldly:

"I’m not worthy."

Derek got angry too, slamming the juice onto the coffee table. The sound was sharp and final.

He used so much force that the plastic cup cracked, and juice instantly spilled all over the carpet. A sticky orange puddle spread across the pale wool fibers.

"What do you mean? Who do you think you are, Natalie! Just because we slept together once, you think you can control me? Don’t you know how suffocating that is?"

His tone was harsher than I’d ever heard. His words felt like fists, punching every vulnerable spot I’d tried to hide.

In an instant, my tears poured down, no warning at all. I didn’t care anymore if he saw—he’d already taken everything.

Yesterday’s humiliation and pain all surged up again. My vision blurred and I curled in on myself, wishing I could disappear.

Derek seemed stunned by my sudden sobbing, at a loss for what to do. He shuffled his feet, looking everywhere but at me.

He apologized, frustrated:

"Sorry, I drank too much last night. What I just said was impulsive!"

He squatted beside me, reaching out to wipe my tears, but I dodged away. I couldn’t stand his touch, not anymore.

His hand froze in midair. His face fell, but I didn’t care.

Just as he was about to comfort me again, his phone suddenly rang.

He glanced at it, his expression changed, and he immediately stood up to leave:

"I’ve got something urgent. Calm down by yourself first! Already in college and still throwing childish tantrums—who’s going to put up with you in the future?"

He slammed the door on his way out, rattling the glass in the windowpanes.