Chapter 4
2753words
"Baby, I brought you lunch."
Liam looked up from his computer screen, forcing himself to smile. "Thanks, Jess. You didn't have to make a special trip."
"Of course I did." Jessica put down the food at the edge of his desk, her voice loud enough to ensure colleagues around could hear. "I know you always forget to eat. How would you manage without me?"
Her hand landed on Liam's shoulder, a seemingly intimate gesture that actually carried the force of possession. "By the way, last night you said you were working late with colleagues? What time did you finish?"
"Around ten o'clock." Liam felt that familiar sense of pressure gathering in his chest.
"Ten o'clock?" Jessica's tone rose. "But I called you at ten thirty and you didn't answer."
The conversation in the office became quieter. I secretly glanced from my workstation, my brows slightly furrowed.
"Maybe the signal was bad in the subway," Liam explained, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the desk.
"Subway?" Jessica laughed, but there was no humor in her eyes. "It's only a fifteen-minute walk from here to home, why would you take the subway?"
"I... I wanted to buy something."
"Buy what? I didn't see you bring anything home."
Liam felt everyone's eyes on him. He recalled how last night he just wanted to walk alone, wandering the streets for a while, not wanting to return so early to the apartment that made him feel suffocated.
"Just... browsing around."
Jessica leaned down, giving him a light kiss on the cheek, while whispering: "Don't lie to me, Liam. I'm only looking out for you."
She straightened up and put on a sweet expression again. "Alright, remember to eat lunch. I love you."
After she left, there was a moment of silence in the office.
"Dude," Leo finally spoke, "are you okay?"
"Of course." Liam opened his lunch box, which contained a carefully prepared salad and sandwich by Jessica. "She's just concerned about me."
But he didn't believe it himself when he said it.
---
"Happy Hour!" Mason announced loudly at exactly five o'clock on Friday afternoon. "Who's coming?"
Almost everyone raised their hands in response. Liam hesitated—Jessica expected him to go straight home, but today he really needed to catch his breath.
"I'm coming too," he said.
The bar had dim lighting and moderate music. The Chimera team occupied several tables in the corner, everyone relaxing for a rare moment. Liam held a beer and found himself sitting next to Naomi, the new designer.
"The brand design you did is really amazing," Naomi said, with genuine appreciation in her eyes. "That use of colors, and the choice of fonts—I never thought serif and sans-serif could be combined like that."
Liam felt a warmth he hadn't experienced in a long time. At home, Jessica never talked about his work, unless it was to complain about him working too late.
"Thank you. Your illustrations are also very interesting, especially that series—it has emotional depth."
Naomi smiled, the kind of smile without any calculation, just pure happiness. "You really think so? To be honest, I've always worried that my style is too personal and might not be suitable for commercial projects."
"Not at all. Good design should have personality." Liam found himself completely relaxed while chatting with her. "If everything were the same, what would be the point?"
They chatted about many things—from design concepts to favorite artists, from life in New York to their respective hometowns. Naomi came from a small town in Oregon, and when she described the forests and rivers there, her eyes showed a pure joy that Liam hadn't seen in a very long time.
"What about you?" she asked. "You look... somewhat tired."
Liam was taken aback. No one—including Jessica—had ever paid attention to his condition, or rather, had cared about his feelings as an independent individual.
"Just work pressure," he answered instinctively.
"Is it really just work?" Naomi asked softly. "Sorry if I'm asking too much. It's just that you seem... trapped by something."
Liam stared at his beer, silent for a long time.
"Sometimes I feel like I don't know myself anymore," he finally said. "It's as if I've become what others expect me to be, but I can't remember what the real me is like."
Naomi didn't answer immediately, but listened quietly. This feeling of being understood almost brought Liam to tears.
"I understand that feeling," she finally said. "But you know what? When chatting with you, I feel like I'm seeing the real you. That talented, thoughtful, interesting Liam."
Their fingers almost touched on the table. Liam felt a dangerous yet fascinating warmth spreading in his chest.
His phone rang. Jessica's name flashed on the screen.
Reality splashed over him like cold water.
---
"Where are you?" Jessica's voice came through the phone, with that familiar interrogating tone.
Liam stood on the street outside the bar, the night breeze making him slightly more sober. "Having drinks with colleagues."
"Do you know what time it is? It's almost nine."
"I know, coming back right away."
"Right away? Liam, you should have been home long ago. I made dinner, and now it's completely cold."
"Sorry, I—"
"Don't apologize to me. Come back. Now."
The call ended.
Liam went back into the bar to gather his things, Naomi watching him with concern.
"Is everything okay?"
"I have to go."
She nodded, understanding without asking questions. "So, shall we continue our chat another day?"
"Sure."
But Liam knew there probably wouldn't be another day.
---
As the apartment door opened, Jessica stood there, arms crossed. She had changed clothes—from her daytime professional attire to home wear, but her expression hadn't relaxed one bit.
"Three hours, Liam. Three hours I've been waiting for you here."
"I told you I was with colleagues—"
"Colleagues? Which colleague?" She followed behind him. "Leo? Mason? Or that new girl?"
Liam paused for a moment. Naomi's name coming from her lips sounded like some kind of accusation.
"A group of us. Team activity."
"Team activity." Jessica repeated, her voice full of sarcasm. "Do you know what I did today? I left work early, went grocery shopping, and made your favorite pasta. I even bought wine, wanting to surprise you."
Her voice began to tremble, but Liam knew it wasn't sadness, but the prelude to anger.
"I gave up hanging out with my friends for you. I turned down work appointments for you. But what about you? You're out there happily drinking with your so-called 'colleagues', completely disregarding my feelings."
"Jessica, I—"
"I've sacrificed so much for you!" Her voice suddenly rose. "I moved to this neighborhood that I don't even like, just to be closer to your company. I changed my schedule to accommodate yours. My entire life revolves around you, and you can't even bother to call me!"
Liam felt the familiar guilt beginning to settle in his chest. This was Jessica's usual tactic—first accuse, then showcase her "sacrifices", and finally make him feel like an ungrateful jerk.
"I never asked you to do those things for me," he finally said.
The air froze.
"What did you say?"
"I'm saying, I never asked you to sacrifice anything for me." Liam's voice grew louder, three years of suppression finally breaking through. "I didn't ask you to move, didn't ask you to change your routine, and didn't ask you to make me your entire life."
Jessica's expression changed, from anger to disbelief.
"So now it's my fault? Loving you too much has become my fault?"
"It's not about fault, but it's also not a reason for me to owe you anything."
"Owe me what?" Jessica's voice became sharp. "Liam, we've been together for three years. I thought we were building a future—"
"What future? You control my every minute, question my every decision, and make me feel like a criminal!"
"I am caring for you!"
"No, you are controlling me!"
The moment the words left his mouth, Liam knew they had entered a realm from which there was no return. Jessica's face turned completely pale.
"If my care feels like control to you," her voice turned ice-cold, "then maybe you don't love me at all. Maybe you never did."
These words were like a knife, precisely stabbing into the softest part of Liam's heart. But this time, he didn't immediately apologize, didn't compromise as he usually did.
"Maybe," he said.
Jessica stared at him in shock, as if seeing this man for the first time.
"You... you really think so?"
Liam looked at the woman he had lived with for three years, trying to find the feeling of love in his heart. But all he found was exhaustion, obligation, and a deep emptiness.
"I don't know," he answered honestly.
Jessica began to cry, but even her tears, in Liam's eyes, seemed like another manipulation tactic.
"I need to go for a walk," he picked up his keys.
"If you walk out that door," Jessica shouted behind him, "don't come back!"
Liam paused at the doorway, his hand on the doorknob. This was a moment of choice—return to familiar pain, or step into the unknown.
He opened the door.
---
There were few pedestrians on the Brooklyn streets late at night, with streetlights casting dim yellow spots on the sidewalk. Liam walked aimlessly, feeling empty inside, experiencing both the relief of liberation and the panic of not knowing what to do.
He took out his phone, his fingers sliding through the contacts list, stopping at Naomi's name.
After hesitating for a long time, he sent a message: "Are you still awake?"
A few minutes later, the reply came: "Awake. Are you okay?"
"Want to talk to someone. If you have time."
"Of course. Moonlight Bar?"
Moonlight Bar was a small bar not far from the office, dim and quiet. When Liam arrived, Naomi was already there, with a glass of red wine in front of her. She looked like she had just taken a shower, her damp hair falling naturally on her shoulders, wearing no makeup, but appearing especially gentle in the dim light.
"What happened?" she asked softly.
Liam ordered whiskey and drank most of the glass in one gulp. The alcohol burned his throat, but it couldn't compare to the pain in his heart.
"I think I just ended a three-year relationship."
Naomi didn't say "sorry" or "everything will be fine" or other empty words of comfort. She just quietly waited for him to continue.
"She was right, I should have loved her. She really did a lot for me, really changed a lot. But..." he paused, searching for the right words, "but I couldn't feel love. I only felt suffocated."
"Love shouldn't make you feel suffocated," Naomi said softly.
"I know. But I also don't know what love should be like. Maybe I'm just not capable of loving someone."
"Talking with you here tonight, you don't seem like someone who can't love," Naomi looked at him with a reassuring understanding in her eyes. "Maybe you just haven't met the right person."
Their gazes met in the air. Liam felt a dangerous yet fascinating pull, like standing at the edge of a cliff, both terrified and longing to jump off.
"I shouldn't be here," he said. "I shouldn't be here with you."
"Why?"
"Because..." he couldn't find a reasonable explanation. Because he still had a girlfriend hours ago? Because Naomi was his colleague? Because he was afraid of doing something irreversible?
Naomi reached out and gently covered the back of his hand. Her skin was warm and soft, in stark contrast to Jessica's always cold hands.
"Liam, you're a good person. You deserve to be loved properly."
This simple statement completely broke down his last defenses. For three years, no one had said such words to him. Jessica's love always came with conditions—if you come home earlier, if you work a little less, if you care about me more, I'll love you. But Naomi said he deserved to be loved, not because of what he did, but because he was who he was.
"I want to kiss you," he said hoarsely.
"Then kiss me," she replied.
When their lips met, Liam felt a warmth he had never experienced before. Not the flame of passion, but a sense of security like coming home. Naomi's lips were soft and sweet, and her hand gently caressed his cheek, the gesture so tender it made him want to cry.
When they parted, both were trembling slightly.
"We shouldn't... here," Naomi whispered, but her hand remained on his face.
Liam nodded. "I know a place."
---
The hotel room wasn't luxurious, but it was clean and private enough. The curtains were drawn tight, with only the bedside lamp casting a gentle yellow light.
After they entered the room, suddenly they both became a bit nervous. The effect of alcohol was fading, and the weight of reality began to emerge. Liam realized he was about to cross a line from which there was no turning back.
"Are you sure?" Naomi asked, her voice soft, but with an undeniable longing in her eyes.
In response, Liam kissed her again. This time deeper, more urgent. Three years of suppression and tonight's sense of liberation mixed together, turning into an urgent need—to be understood, to be accepted, to be truly loved.
Naomi gently unbuttoned his shirt, each movement so careful, as if handling the most precious thing. When her fingertips traced across his chest, Liam felt a shiver—not of desire, but of being cherished.
"You're so beautiful," he told her, his hand gently caressing her cheek.
She smiled, a smile containing both shyness and joy. "So are you."
They caressed each other slowly and gently, without urgency, without any performative element. When Naomi softly moaned, Liam felt her pleasure was also his pleasure. When he entered her, there were tears in her eyes, but not tears of pain.
"I've never experienced such gentleness," she whispered in his ear.
Liam's answer was a deeper embrace. In this moment, they weren't making love, but healing each other's wounds.
When the climax came, what Liam felt wasn't just physical release, but spiritual liberation. In Naomi's embrace, he felt completely accepted for the first time.
---
Afterwards, Naomi curled up in his arms, her breathing gradually steadying. Her hand caressed his chest, her touch as light as a feather.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked.
Liam stared at the ceiling, trying to sort through his complex emotions. Guilt, relief, fear, hope—all feelings intertwined.
"I don't know what will happen tomorrow," he answered honestly.
"Then don't think about tomorrow," Naomi said. "At least tonight, you are free."
Free. The word echoed in his heart. He did feel free, but this freedom came at the cost of betrayal. He had betrayed Jessica, and perhaps also the perception he had always had of himself.
But strangely, he didn't regret it.
Naomi fell asleep quickly, and in her sleep she still clung tightly to him, as if afraid he might disappear. Liam gently stroked her hair, feeling her warmth.
An hour later, he gently extracted himself from her embrace and walked to the window. Drawing back the curtains, New York's night view spread out before him—countless lights flickering in the darkness, each light with a story behind it, a life journey.
Liam looked at the city, a complex and profound emotion welling up inside him. He didn't know what he was now—a betrayer? A liberator? Or just a man who had finally begun to live for himself?
Outside, a light rain began to fall, leaving winding trails on the glass window. Liam thought of Jessica, imagined her possibly waiting for him in the apartment, or perhaps already packing up his things. He thought about facing his colleagues' gazes tomorrow, about the potential awkwardness at work.
But he also remembered Naomi's smile, remembered how she said he deserved to be loved properly, remembered that unprecedented sense of peace he felt in her embrace.
The rain fell harder. Liam continued standing by the window, watching this never-resting city, his heart filled with both uncertainty about the future and a longing for freedom.
He didn't know what tomorrow would bring, but for the first time, he felt it might be what he wanted.
