Chapter 503 The Line Between Lock and Let Go

Wyatt’s breath was heavy. It was a long while before he finally loosened his grip on Yunice.

“Do your wife’s duty. Don’t forget why you married me in the first place.”

It was for shelter–nothing more. Don’t act like you want it all.

Yunice’s thoughts were a mess as she subtly pulled farther away from him.

Just a moment ago, Wyatt had clearly wanted to take her right there in the car.

She had long since realized that his moods were unstable. When he got manic, he needed physical stimulation to burn off all that volatile energy.

She watched him cautiously, making a mental note not to provoke him again any time soon–and not to dig further into Nora, either.

The rain kept falling, a constant patter of white noise on the roof of the car.

Wyatt stared at the streaks of water disappearing across the windshield, his gaze unreadable. He didn’t drive off, didn’t speak, didn’t argue with her anymore.

He just sat there and waited for the rain to stop.

Yunice figured he was probably thinking about Nora.

They must have loved each other, once. Otherwise he wouldn’t have taken her to see the aurora. Wouldn’t have had everyone around him feeling sorry for her. Wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to care for her family.

But time could wear down even the deepest feelings. Nora had been unconscious for two years. She couldn’t respond to Wyatt’s affection, so that love slowly faded.

And just as it was fading, Yunice happened to show up–alive, talking, able to touch, able to hold. His emotions found a new outlet.

Love didn’t vanish. It just moved on.

Still, even if he didn’t realize it, Yunice was sure he felt guilty. Anyone would.

It was a knot that couldn’t be untangled.

So she let it go for now, lowered her eyes, and distracted herself with her phone. Victor had messaged her.

He said there were some design flaws in Northvale Hospital and asked if she had time to go over them again.

But Yunice immediately picked up on the hidden meaning. The design flaws were probably just an excuse to see her.

She quietly deleted the message.

When the rain finally stopped, Wyatt started the car and drove them back to Pavilion Hatt.

Before he could come around and open the door for her, Yunice obediently got out of the car.

She was worried that if he got angry, he might actually lock her up in the house. She froze in place, uneasily watching him.

"Wyatt, please don’t lock me in. After those three years in the asylum, I can’t take it anymore. I’ll be okay?"

Tears clung to her lashes. She looked down and reached out to tug at the edge of his sleeve.

Just a little tug. Lips pressed together, the corners of her eyes tinted red and damp.

Wyatt frowned. He knew some of it was an act, but still, his throat bobbed heavily.

She’d spent three years in that asylum–three years of being treated worse than livestock. The scars on her wrists hadn’t even fully faded. Back then, she could only lie there on the chopping block and await whatever came.

Wyatt’s gaze on her was filled with conflict and restraint. Locking her up would be the simplest effective solution. He’d never expected love–he only wanted her to stay.

But somehow, just a few soft words and a couple of tears from her, and his mind involuntarily conjured those scenes of her being tortured in that hellhole.

If he locked her up now, how was he any different from the monsters who’d tortured her before?

He liked her alive–lively. Not trembling in fear every day like some broken shell.

But she wasn’t trustworthy. Turn your back for one second and she ran.

Between her losing her mind and running away, which one was harder to handle?

Wyatt’s eyes darkened with cold light. Yunice could feel it, and her heart began to thump.

“Sir, the Crawford family called again,” the housekeeper’s voice cut through the tension.

Sensing something was off, the housekeeper cautiously added, “Mr. Carl asked for Ms. Yunice to take the call.”

Yunice looked at Wyatt nervously. When he didn’t object, she ran to the living room to answer the phone. Wyatt stood at a distance, watching her back. He could feel her slipping away–her fear, her distance.

She was probably crying to Carl right now, begging him to take her away.

Hands in his pockets, Wyatt strolled slowly into the living room, stopping a few steps away.

Yunice could sense him watching her, and picked up the phone solemnly. “Mr. Carl.”

Carl’s voice was steady and flat. “Owen said you promised to provide a venue for his wedding. Is that true?”

“Yes,” Yunice replied.

“Then go back to the Saunders house and discuss the wedding details with him. You’ve made promises. Life has to go on, doesn’t it?"

“I understand, Mr. Carl,” Yunice said.

Carl hung up.

Yunice turned back around and tugged on Wyatt’s sleeve again. “Can I go back to the Saunders family tomorrow?”

Wyatt looked down at her hand, then up into her eyes.

If he said yes now, wouldn’t that be letting her off too easily?