I stayed in my room the rest of the day.
Kyle knocked on the door a few times and asked what was wrong, but I brushed him off every time.
Then the doorbell rang again.
This time it was Jason, dropping off a contract for me on behalf of our manager.
But when the door opened, the first thing he saw was Kyle.
Kyle was in the kitchen making dinner, sleeves rolled up, his face still dark.
“If Ella needs something, give it to me,” he said. Then, in the same cool tone, “If that’s all, you can leave. I’m busy.”
Jason scratched his head and looked past him.
“Making hot pot counts as being busy?”
Kyle’s expression got even worse.
He pushed Jason out faster after that, saying, “We’ve got something private to do later.”
The “private” thing, as it turned out, was him rubbing my stomach after I ate too much.
At some point that night, I fell asleep.
And when I woke up the next morning, I finally made up my mind.
I found Kyle in the laundry room.
He was hand-washing my underwear.
A flash of pink slid through his fingers, and my face instantly caught fire.
Suppressing the chaotic thud in my chest, I shuffled over to him and said in a tiny voice, “Kyle… I want to move out.”
His hands stopped.
For a long time, he said nothing. If anything, the way he scrubbed after that looked even more forceful than before.
“I thought you were scared to live alone.”
I couldn’t tell him that I’d lied about that from the start just to move in with him.
So I mumbled, “I can learn.”
He kept washing in silence, eyes lowered, focused on the delicate fabric in his hands.
My own emotions were in complete disarray.
Part of me wanted him to agree, because that would make the breakup cleaner.
And part of me desperately wanted him to stop me.
So after a few moments, I asked again, “Can I?”
He hung the clothes up, turned, and finally looked at me.
His eyes were black and deep enough to swallow light.
Then he bit out, cold and sharp, “If you’re already planning to leave, then what do you still need a boyfriend for? We might as well break up now.”
I froze.
The comments immediately erupted in celebration.
That’s what he really wanted to say all along.
He’s wanted to dump her forever.
At least she’s finally self-aware enough to leave and make room for the real heroine.
My mind went blank.
At the word break up, I instinctively avoided his eyes and ran back to the bedroom.
Not long after, while sitting there in a daze, another image floated into my head.
The back of Kyle’s hand.
There had been a few thin scratch marks there, like something small and sharp had caught him.
We had run out of bandages for cuts and scrapes at home.
After hesitating for a while, I decided I’d go buy some. I needed the air anyway. I needed to think.
Because deep down, I still couldn’t fully believe Kyle was exactly the person the comments said he was.
Unfortunately, that day luck was not on my side.
On my way back, a sudden downpour started without warning.
A passing car splashed muddy water all over me. Someone bumped into me in the crowd, and I fell hard enough to scrape my knee.
I bit back tears, clutching the small box of bandages under my coat to keep it dry, and limped toward home as fast as I could.
Then suddenly, an umbrella appeared over my head.
I looked up.
Kyle.
His profile was cold and severe, and when he saw the state I was in, he almost laughed from anger.
“So you’re really something, huh? You even know how to run away from home now?”
My lips parted to explain, but he shoved the umbrella into my hand first.
“Hold this.”
The next second, my feet left the ground.
“Kyle—”
He ignored my protests completely and carried me all the way to the car.
Back at the house, he dragged one wet hand through his hair and started lecturing me with his whole body pulled tight, like he was barely holding himself together.
“You want to move out that badly? Did you even think about where you’d stay? What you’d do with all your stuff? If you disappeared without a word, did you stop for one second to think someone might worry?”
I kept my head down through all of it.
Then, slowly, I took the tiny box out from inside my coat.
It was bone dry.
I held it up and said, “Kyle, I didn’t run away. I saw your hand was hurt. I went out to buy these for you.”
He went completely still.
Something shook hard in his eyes.
He swallowed, then turned his face away and said stiffly, “You’re soaked. I’ll help you wash off.”
And just like that, his whole tone changed.
He set me carefully in the bathtub, steam curling around us.
My injured leg rested along the edge while the rest of me soaked in warm water.
Kyle’s eyes looked darker than the room as he slowly started removing my wet clothes, one layer at a time.
When he reached my underwear, I finally grabbed his wrist.
“I can do it myself. You should go.”
His gaze dropped to my knee.
“Your leg’s scraped. It can’t get soaked too much.”
“I’ll be careful.”
He stepped back half a pace. “Then let me clean your leg.”
That should have been all.
It should have stayed simple.
But somewhere between his fingers carefully dabbing my skin dry and the warmth of the water and the way he lifted me into bed afterward, something shifted.
The atmosphere turned soft and dizzying.
Every place he touched felt too awake. When he kissed my eyelids, his breath was warm against my face, and my whole body reacted before my brain could catch up.
It should have been beautiful.
Except the comments appeared again.
You’re kidding me. The male lead actually did this with the side character?
Don’t tell me she thinks this means he loves her.
Please. Men have physical needs too.
I bet she pulled this whole retreat act on purpose.
For the first time, I didn’t immediately believe them.
There were too many things between Kyle and me that had never been said out loud.
So when his hand slid lower, I stopped him with a kiss to his throat.
“Kyle,” I whispered, “are you doing this because you like me? Or just because you need… something?”
He visibly jolted.
Then he let out a low laugh and said, word by word, “Ella, I have hands. And more than one way to deal with that.”
Before I could respond, his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen, and something changed in his face instantly.
He answered, listened for maybe three seconds, and stood up to get dressed.
“There was a fire in the office. Some contract files were destroyed. I have to go.”
I caught the edge of his shirt before he could leave.
Because I had seen the caller ID.
Lena.
Kyle seemed to misunderstand. He bent down and kissed my hair.
“Be good. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”
Then he was gone.
And I was alone again in the bedroom, staring at the empty doorway while the comments laughed.
She’s so full of herself.
He belongs to the heroine. The second he heard she was in trouble, he ran.
At this point, if the side character still refuses to let go, that’s just embarrassing.
I sat there for a long time.
Then I lowered my eyes and thought, They’re right.
Dragging this out any longer really was embarrassing.
So before Kyle came back that night, I packed my bags, left the house, checked into a hotel, sent him a breakup text, and blocked every way he had to contact me.