Chapter 51 A Preemptive Toast to Your Blissful Matrimony

The biting autumn breeze carried a few fallen leaves, which rustled against Aaron's shoes as he walked.

Held securely in his arms, Eleanor was shielded from the wind by his open coat, its warmth and breadth providing a sanctuary against the chill.

Turning back to the car with her in his arms, he spoke softly, "Tell our clients we’ll reschedule for another time."
Wesley was taken aback, as this was the long-discussed overseas collaboration—the linchpin for Quinn Corporation's penetration into the European market. Aaron was hell-bent on clinching the deal, making tonight's dinner meeting critical.

Standing the other party up could spell trouble for the negotiations down the road.

With the thought of that Aaron was a man of word, "Yes," Wesley complied.

Eleanor had fallen into a deep sleep; the events of the last sleepless night caught up with her, and she woke up past nine in the morning. A day spent at the office and a few drinks had worked wonders to help her find rest. She had shed tears only briefly at the start of the car ride.

Now, she lay still, snuggled against Aaron's chest.

Aaron glanced down at the damp spots on his shirt, a frown creasing his forehead. He hesitated for a moment and then gently wiped the tears from Eleanor's face with a tissue before dabbing at his own shirt.

Blake drove Eleanor's car, and Wesley, ever observant, raised the privacy partition.

Approaching a red light, he slowed down smoothly.

Startled from her slumber, Eleanor twitched awake, Aaron's morning words echoing in her head—"My engagement's next week, Eleanor."

Her heart clenched painfully, as if the agony was fracturing every bone in her body, and in her daze, she couldn't place where she was, only that it hurt too much.

She stifled a sob in her throat.

"Why are you crying?"

A cold voice pierced the silence.

Electrified, Eleanor jerked upright, sobering up instantly.

She clambered out of Aaron's embrace and looked up, dazed, at the man looming over her. His expression was as impassive as ever.

"You... I..." Her voice was hoarse, knotted with the remnants of her dreams, her entire demeanor vulnerably trembling.

The light turned green, and Wesley drove on.

Eleanor swayed, and Aaron reached out to steady her with his arm around her waist, muttering irritably, "Dramatics now?"

It took Eleanor a moment to realize she was in Aaron's car. She remembered sitting in her own car outside Drunken Paradise.

It must have been Aaron who found her and took her into his vehicle.

She felt limp, utterly drained by the alcohol, supported only by Aaron's hold.

"What were you crying about?" Aaron demanded, pulling her close, his gaze bearing down on her.

With a twinge in her nose, Eleanor averted her eyes, "Bad dream."

She dreamt of his engagement but couldn't make out the woman by his side—she seemed like Vincent, and yet not.

Certainly not her.

Aaron's fingers grazed the corner of her eye, finding moisture, his touch chilling, "What kind of adult cries over a nightmare?"
"I mean, can a girl help it if she's a bit timid?" Eleanor turned her head, dodging his fingertips.

Aaron twirled his finger, a mocking chuckle escaping his lips. "So timid yet daring to drink your sorrows away, sitting in an unlocked car. You think everyone leaving Drunken Paradise is an angel?"

She felt a stab in her chest, but her expression remained unfazed. "Thanks for bailing me out, Aaron."

"You should thank me. Otherwise, who knows where you'd wake up tomorrow..." Aaron released her.

Eleanor sank back into her seat, Aaron's words a stark reminder of the day's events. After waking up, her photo had been deleted by him.

She gazed at the man she had loved for years, never expecting anything in return, yet he wouldn't even grant her the slightest bit of fairness.

She grabbed her bag that had fallen near Aaron. The zipper was ajar, and something fell out, landing right on Aaron's thigh.

He was holding a cigarette between the fingers of his left hand while picking up the box with his right.

It was a box of morning-after pills, a certain brand. Through the gap in the box lid, two of the blisters could be seen—empty.

Eleanor snatched the empty box from him, an item she had meant to dispose of discretely to avoid any office scandal. It was meant to be tossed at home.

Shoving the box back into her purse, she locked eyes with Aaron's hauntingly dark gaze and explained, "I took them at noon today, so don't worry."

A restless surge went through Aaron's chest, and he flicked his lighter, igniting the cigarette. The smoke unfurled, reminding Eleanor of the night before when Aaron had offered her a smoke.

That same taste prompted an instinctive revulsion as if her throat and lungs were still tainted with those flavors.

She twisted around to lower the car window, but the rushing cold air made her shiver. Then a warm hand covered the back of hers, gently pressing, and the window rolled up once more, the warmth inside the car blossomed like spring.

Aaron crushed the cigarette, the light in his eyes diminishing, depthless.

His voice came from behind, close and breath warm, a husky whisper, "I didn't ask you to take them."

A shiver of tiny goosebumps spread across Eleanor's back. She snorted in self-derision, "No need to remind me, lest I mistake your attention for royal favor."

Only in the ancient court were concubines reminded to take contraceptive drinks, and the frequent reminders made her feel cheapened.

About to turn her face toward him, Aaron's look darkened—but then his phone rang. It was from the Family Ancestral Home.

Eleanor looked away, listening as Aaron answered with a low "Alright, I'm on my way."

"Wesley, stop at the next intersection," Aaron said as he lowered the sun visor.
Wesley pulled his car onto the service road and came to a stop beside a bare-branched tree, with Blake trailing closely behind in Eleanor's car.

Stepping out of his vehicle, Aaron rolled down his window and instructed, "Take her to the front door."

"Will do, Aaron," replied Blake, returning to Eleanor's car to open the rear passenger door.

Eleanor stepped out into the lonely orange glow cast by streetlights, the chilled breeze teasing her hair.

Touching her reddened nose, she turned to Aaron and said, "My brother's engagement party is next week, but I'm afraid I can't make it—it's the anniversary of Dad's passing, and I need to go back to Guangcheng."

Eleanor made her annual pilgrimage to honor her father's memory; this year, it just so happened to coincide with Aaron's engagement.

She was running away, yet no one caught her out.

She could hide her feelings in public, but she couldn't bear to witness his engagement to another—not without fearing an impulsive act. Reason, however, told her she mustn't.

In the dimly lit cabin of his car, Aaron's eyes flickered like distant, faltering stars in the dark night, as unpredictable as a prairie under a gusting wind—igniting a raging fire that seared through Eleanor's heart.

The next moment, the fire was extinguished, leaving nothing but lifeless ashes.

"Whatever you want," he said indifferently.

Eleanor felt something inside her break; she mustered a smile through the pain and replied, "Then let me wish you an early happy marriage."

As she settled back into the car, she pondered over the photo gallery on her phone, now devoid of several pictures.