Falling 33

Eight years. 

In all that time, she hadn’t even appeared in a single photo or been mentioned by name in his world. 

So it had always been a one–woman show, all along. 

She had been the one foolishly throwing herself at him, all on her own. 

Sandria let out a self–mocking laugh, her eyes barren and desolate. 

Expressionless, she deleted those foolish memories one by one, until nothing was left. 

From now on, they would be nothing but enemies! 

Meanwhile, Florentino spent a full three hours at the police station. 

Even after pulling every string he could, he still had to go through all the procedures, sign a pile of documents, and write a statement before he was finally released. 

By the time he walked out the front doors of the station, night had already fallen. His bespoke suit was wrinkled, his hair a mess, and he looked utterly disheveled. 

Sandria! 

That woman really was ruthless! 

He couldn’t help but recall the way Sandria had sounded on the phone just now–so calm, so rational, so terrifyingly clear–headed. 

He suddenly realized that he might never have truly understood her. 

For eight years, she had always been gentle, obedient, and charming in front of him. 

He had always thought she was his canary in a cage, a plaything he could toy with whenever he was bored, someone who would always crawl back to him at the crook of his finger. 

But now, that plaything had suddenly grown sharp claws and fangs. 

Not only had she broken free from his control, she had even turned around and struck back at him, hard. 

This feeling of losing control filled him with an unprecedented sense of irritation and unease. 

Back at the office, he irritably picked up his phone to call Sandria, only to find that he had been blocked on every platform. 

He then opened the Twitter account he almost never used, hoping to find some clue in the posts where she had once 

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tagged him–even a single soft word. 

But all he found was a glaring, empty void. 

When had she deleted every trace of him so thoroughly? 

It was as if their eight years together had never existed. 

Florentino felt as if an invisible hand was squeezing his heart, leaving it stifled and aching. 

What on earth was this woman up to? 

He had only sent her those photos to make her give in–he had never intended to actually spread them. 

Did she really have to go to such extremes? 

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He subconsciously pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk and fished out a photo he had hidden there for a long time. 

It was a picture of Sandria from her university days. 

She wore a simple white shirt and jeans, her face bare of makeup, smiling radiantly. Her clear fox–like eyes seemed to be filled with all the sunlight of summer. 

He suddenly realized that she had once been so pure. 

It was only to please him that she had gradually changed into who she was now. 

She had truly loved him back then. 

So how had her temper become so bad now? 

His finger accidentally tapped on the visitor log, and the next second, he spotted her Twitter handle in the browsing history. 

In that instant, all his irritation and unease vanished. 

A confident smile unconsciously curled at the corner of his lips. 

See? 

She still cared about him. 

All those things from the past were just hidden away to scare him a little. Now, wasn’t she still sneaking a look at his 

Twitter! 

This woman could never truly leave him. 

His face regained its usual air of pride and arrogance. 

He decided to give her a little more time. 

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He would wait for her to come to her senses, regret her actions, and obediently return to his side, ju 

He had plenty of patience.