"Margie, you're making a scene!" His voice was icy and domineering. "We've been through life and death together, faced countless dangers—why won't you trust me?"
"The way you're acting makes it impossible for me to trust you. Four or five hundred years isn't a short time. I can easily picture you two hand in hand, inseparable!"
His expression stiffened slightly at my words, as if I'd struck a hidden nerve. But he quickly regained his composure, his burning red eyes fixed on me with unwavering intensity. Those crimson orbs flickered with complex emotions—anger, but also an indescribable sorrow. Memories of them fighting side by side, surviving together, flashed before my eyes, refusing to fade. My heart ached as if pierced by needles. I clenched my fists, nails digging deep into my palms, trying to drown my inner torment with physical pain.
Did he think I was making baseless accusations? I had seen their unspoken understanding with my own eyes.
