Chapter 153 His Coldness, Her Resolve
The dressing room door clicked firmly shut, leaving Dorian inside while Veyra stood frozen in the middle of the quiet bedroom. She was still clutching the warm pizza box in both hands, the plastic bag containing the milk tea samples dangling loosely from her wrist.
She held her breath, listening intently as his heavy footsteps stopped right on the other side of the panel. He was standing there, just inches away, fully aware that she was in his room.
Her heart began to hammer against her ribs, and her palms turned slick with sweat. She couldn’t bring herself to take a single step.
She braced herself, waiting for the doorknob to turn, waiting for a sharp knock, waiting for him to step back out and demand to know why she was lingering outside his space so late at night.
Nothing happened.
After a tense moment, the faint sound of his footsteps moved away toward the private bathroom. The door creaked open, then shut with a soft click.
A second later, she heard the muffled sound of the latch engaging. He had gone straight into the shower.
Veyra finally let out the heavy breath she had been holding, her legs trembling so much she could barely stand. Moving quickly, she set the warm pizza box down on the bedside table and slid the plastic bag of milk tea right next to it.
Determined to escape the awkwardness, she grabbed her pajamas from the closet, hurried into the dark adjoining bathroom to change, and slipped under the covers of her bed. She pulled the thick duvet all the way up to her chin and lay completely still, staring up at the shadowed ceiling.
Her pulse was still racing, refusing to settle down.
She genuinely could not fathom why she felt so unnerved. She hadn’t done a single thing wrong. Bringing home a warm pizza and a few tea samples was just a small, thoughtful gesture, a basic courtesy to thank him for helping her out. Nothing more, nothing less.
She hadn’t crossed any boundaries, she hadn’t made any inappropriate advances, and she certainly hadn’t broken any rules between them. She was entirely in the right.
She repeated the thought over and over in her head like a calming mantra, trying to force her breathing back to a normal rhythm. Yet, the deep knot of anxiety in her gut refused to loosen.
Every time she closed her eyes, the memory of his cold, distant expression flashed in her mind. She kept seeing the way he had tossed that previous cup of milk tea aside, how sharp his voice had sounded when he told her he didn’t want her gratitude.
She had seen him annoyed before, and she was used to his usual icy demeanor. But this felt completely different. This felt personal.
She lay in the dark room, turning the situation over in her head.
His attitude toward her had been strange for days now. He was being unusually curt, short-tempered, and went out of his way to avoid looking at her directly. He was deliberately putting up a massive wall, pushing her as far away as possible.
And as she thought about it, she suddenly realized why.
He had warned her clearly weeks ago back in the armory, setting his boundaries in plain English: Do not develop any unnecessary feelings for me. My heart already belongs to someone else.
She had given him her word back then, agreeing without hesitation and making it clear she understood the boundary completely.
But looking at how he was acting now, it was obvious he didn’t believe her.
He thought she was going back on her promise. He assumed she was falling for him, misinterpreting her actions as a desperate attempt to gain his affection with late-night food, sweet drinks, and constant lingering.
A wave of heat rushed to her cheeks, her face burning with sheer humiliation in the dark.
That wasn’t what she was doing at all. She was just trying to be polite, trying to repay a debt of gratitude for his help. She wasn’t trying to charm him.
She bit her lip, forcing herself to stop spiraling. Overthinking it was only going to make her feel worse.
She came to a firm decision right then and there. She wasn’t going to offer an awkward explanation, she wasn’t going to defend herself, and she certainly wasn’t going to beg him to see her side.
Instead, she would let her actions speak for themselves.
From tomorrow on, she would keep things strictly professional, distant, and polite. No more surprise snacks, no more late-night knocks on his door, and no more lingering around his room. She would give him absolute space and prove, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she had zero romantic interest in him.
Closing her eyes, she resolved to make that boundaries crystal clear starting the very next morning.
On the other side of the room, the bathroom remained quiet.
Dorian stood over the marble sink, his large hands gripping the edges of the counter so tightly that his knuckles were stark white. He hadn’t turned on the faucet, nor had he stepped under the water.
He just stood there in the dim light, staring at his own reflection in the mirror, thoroughly frustrated with himself.
He thought about the way he had handled the milk tea earlier. He hadn’t planned on throwing it, it was an impulsive reaction he hadn’t managed to catch in time. The plastic bag had slipped, the liquid had splattered against the wall, and the cup had cracked open.
He hated feeling like he owed her anything, just as much as he hated her constantly trying to thank him. The whole situation was making him irritable, edgy, and completely out of control.
His phone buzzed on the counter, breaking the silence.
He picked it up and saw a short text update from Kaelen: Flight delayed due to heavy fog. Won’t land until tomorrow morning.
Dorian typed back a quick reply, Understood. Stay safe and set the phone back down.
He had heard Veyra’s soft footsteps in the hallway earlier, heard her hesitate right outside his door, and heard the dull thud of the pizza box landing on the table. He had wanted to open the door, face her, and tell her to stop hovering around him.
Instead, he had retreated straight into the bathroom like a coward, waiting in the dark for her to just drop the food and leave.
Except she hadn’t left.
He had heard her soft movements as she changed into her nightwear, heard the rustle of the sheets as she climbed into bed, and knew she was lying there, waiting to see if he would come out.
He had zero desire to face her right now.
He was angry, furious at himself, irritated by the tea, and deeply bothered by the genuine, earnest gratitude in her eyes every time she looked at him. He didn’t want her appreciation, nor did he want her trying to get closer to him.
The fact that he couldn’t control his own foul mood only made him angrier, leaving him standing alone in the dark, annoyed at the entire world.