One o'clock in the morning---
Emily was awakened by the vibration of her mobile phone. In a dazed state, she unlocked her phone squinting at the screen.
"Logan, I've returned to the country. Can we talk when you're free? I miss you."
She was taken aback for a moment, realized she had picked up the wrong phone, and was about to put it down when the bathroom door was suddenly pulled open.
The man, cloaked in her pink towel, emerged from the bathroom, his tall and handsome figure comparable to a model's. She couldn't help but ogle at his well-defined abs.
"Did I disturb you?"
Emily shook her head, "No. There's a message on your phone."
She stifled the unusual agitation in her heart, acting innocent while sneakily observing his changes in expression.
"Hmm?"
The man took over the phone, his sharp and captivating eyes darted quickly over the screen and lingered for a few seconds before he casually hit 'delete' and tossed the phone onto the table.
His movements were smooth and swift. Lowering his gaze at Emily Carter, he said, "Go to sleep."
Though Emily Carter had already lost all drowsiness by then, she just nodded obediently and lay down.
Having been together for three years, she knew when to keep silent.
Despite her curiosity about the identity of the person who called him "Logan" so intimately, their relationship hadn't reached the point where she felt entitled to question him.
At most, she considered herself as a temporary companion.
Feeling him lie down beside her, Emily subtly snuggled against him.
The brisk scent following his bath surrounded her domineeringly, as his long arm drew her into his embrace, his slender fingers idly caressing her soft, long hair.
A sudden fluttering in her heart caused her to lift her head and press her soft lips against his, "Do you want me?"
The air seemed to gradually warm up.
Logan did not respond, yet she heard his slightly husky, low chuckle, a rewarding scent, followed by the hand that had the power over life and death in controlling the plane, reaching out to her.
His fingertips were slightly cool, causing her to tremble subtly.
Emily bit her lip, withholding herself, but her gaze dispersed and landed on her phone.
Sensing her distraction, Logan
pinched her nose, "What are you thinking about?"
She was taken aback, and mumbled honestly, "I was thinking, what are we exactly?"
"Hmm?"
Holding his face, she looked directly into his eyes, questioning him, yet seemingly questioning herself: "Logan, are we together?"
The man's silence was momentary, no answer was offered, causing Emily to feel somewhat disappointed. Her hands gradually let go of him, but in the next second, he...
The sudden pain caused her to muffle a groan, "Logan..."
"What do you think?" He ignored her complaint. "Emily, what do you think we are? Huh?"
Her thoughts disrupted, she bit her lip, remaining silent.
A relationship without any guarantee, as ephemeral as smoke, cannot endure even a little disturbance.
After satiating her hunger, Emily looked at Logan beside her, observing him closely. She only dared to silently admit in her heart; that she liked him.
But such a captivating man was never hers.
After a moment, as if gathering her courage, she said, "Logan, let's just call it quits."
She had a close relationship with him for three years, yet Emily didn't even qualify to use the term break up.
...
When dawn came, Logan departed. He had a flight to catch. When Emily woke up, she found a note he had left on the bedside table. The vigorous and strong handwriting was just like him.
"We'll talk about everything when I return."