Chapter 31

On the verge of collapse, she opened her mouth, her voice trembling, her shoulders shaking, but she spoke firmly, "Van, I'll call the police. I really will. Even if I'm ruined, even if the whole world calls me a slut, I'll call the police." It was unclear whether her desperate threat had worked, or if the man across from her had lost interest, but in any case, the car fell silent. Only the faint smell of tobacco lingered in the air. After a long while, Van focused intently on her, the smile on his lips now completely different from before. "This is the first time you've called me Van." It turned out that when he truly smiled, he was very gentle. Winnie's body was still trembling, but the hands clutching her high heels had noticeably relaxed. She wasn't sure if that tenderness was just an illusion caused by the blur of her tears. "You said that day you were afraid of me. Were you afraid of who I am, or afraid of what kind of person I am?" Winnie's tears kept flowing, no need to blink as one tear after another fell. Her delicate nose turned red, and her pale face seemed even more fragile, like thin porcelain. She kept shaking her head, but couldn't say a word. Van put out the cigarette in the car's ashtray, stared into her eyes, and slowly, steadily, moved past the center console. "It's okay, leave them to me," he whispered softly, gently taking the high heels from her hand with quiet assurance. "Winnie, no matter who I am to you, there's no need to be afraid." Those words seemed to flip a switch. For some reason, Winnie suddenly burst into tears, sobbing uncontrollably, like a little girl. She desperately clutched at Van's clothes, pressing her forehead tightly against his broad, sturdy shoulder. Her words were broken, interrupted by her sobs. "The reason why I haven't told you about Wyatt..." Van lowered his gaze, looking at her with a mixture of helplessness and fondness as her slender shoulders trembled with each sob. "I'm listening," he said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You can tell me now." It had probably been a long time since Winnie had cried, to the point where she felt she was losing control of her emotions. Crying in front of this man was surely embarrassing. They weren't close—just a few encounters, a failed attempt at seduction, one always dignified and aloof, the other repeatedly in awkward situations. Van allowed her to clutch at his shirt, her cries hoarse and nearly breaking her down, the hot tears falling continuously, soaking his shirt. But he didn't hug her. His attempts to comfort her were restrained—one hand holding the high heels she had gripped like a weapon, the other handing her a tissue. "You're crying so hard. How much of it is because of me?" he asked, calm and perceptive. "Looks like the trending topic on X last night wasn't exactly what you hoped for." Winnie shook her head vigorously against his shoulder, but the words she spoke didn't quite match the moment. "You watch X?" "You're not calling me Mr. Marlowe anymore?" he replied, just as off-topic. She wasn't sure how long she had cried, and whether to describe her sobs as cute or pitiful, but eventually, the sniffles subsided. Winnie leaned against Van's shoulder, taking two deep breaths. "I'm done crying now." Her voice was a bit hoarse, filled with a heavy nasal tone, reporting in a formal, almost robotic manner. Van responded with a soft "okay." "Could you please close your eyes?" "Why?" "My eye makeup isn't waterproof," Winnie said seriously, treating it like an important matter. "I've been crying for so long, it must look a mess." Van didn't offer any empty pleasantries. Instead, he simply closed his eyes, saying, "Alright." With the loss of sight, the rest of her senses and feelings sharpened. Van could feel Winnie's hand, which had been clutching his shirt, gradually loosening its grip. Her forehead lifted from his shoulder, and as her hair brushed his neck, a faint fragrance lingered in the air. A small fruit fell from the lush, rain-drenched tree— and in that moment, a strange, sudden thought crossed Van's mind: she even used fruit-scented shampoo. Winnie sat up straight, creating distance between them. The wind shook the car window, and after absorbing so much warmth from him, she suddenly felt a bit cold. Van, with his eyes still closed, handed her the high heel she had left behind. "Put your shoes on first." Winnie took the shoes and bent down to put them on. As she did, she heard Van's casual reminder, "Don't use them as weapons." Winnie's face tightened, and she quietly muttered, "Mm." Van furrowed his brow. "You're pretty skilled. Have you encountered this kind of danger before?" "No," Winnie answered obediently, "It's for a movie." Van smiled faintly, letting out a soft, almost imperceptible laugh. In the dark, he must have sensed Winnie had stopped moving, so he asked, "Are you done?" Winnie's heart skipped a beat. "No." "I can't keep my eyes closed forever," Van asked casually, "What are you going to do?" Unbeknownst to him, Winnie's gaze was fixed on his face, studying him intently, looking at him with a mixture of seriousness and boldness.