Chapter 50 Jealousy
Yvette paused, her expression somewhat awkward.
It turned out that not only she had noticed Albert, but Wyatt had noticed as well.
Yvette calmed her emotions a bit and softly said, "I was just thinking everyone has changed so much."
Wyatt lifted his gaze and stared intently at Yvette, his eyes reflecting an inscrutable depth. After a while, he chuckled and said, "Looks like I overthought things."
Yvette took a sip from the drink that had been mixed with chilled alcohol, swallowing it, and only then did she start to calm down.
The music drowned out the sound of Wyatt and Yvette talking.
"Thank you for your concern, but it seems like you've been too focused on my affairs recently," Yvette smiled on the surface, yet her eyes betrayed a sense of rejection and indifference. "Mr. Randel, we are just colleagues."
Wyatt, seeming to have anticipated Yvette's reaction, took a sip of his drink and said with a cool tone, "Yvette, seeing you so unhappy, how could I not pay attention?"
Yvette sat up a bit stiffly, pondered for a moment, and then spoke, "Happiness is subjective. Some believe that marrying someone who loves them dearly and receiving meticulous care and attention is happiness. Others believe that marrying someone they love and being willing to give everything is the true meaning of happiness." She locked eyes with Wyatt stubbornly and asserted, "Unfortunately, I fall into the latter category."
As the music shifted and the club's lights dimmed, Yvette struggled to discern Wyatt's expression in the low light.
"You've always been like this, Yvette." He chuckled lightly, a tinge of helplessness mixed in his clear voice. "What I like is exactly this version of you."
Through the chaotic lights and noisy crowd in the bar, Victor met up with Violet at the entrance.
The strong drumbeats and piercing music were blocked behind the doors, with a cool breeze outside making Victor feel oddly warm in the twenty-degree weather.
Violet had changed her appearance, wearing a chic black dress and a shoulder-length fringe earring, adding a touch of prideful yet enchanting allure to her.
Victor's expression turned somewhat awkward upon seeing Violet.
Holding her handbag, Violet spoke first.
"Thank you for today."
Victor's brows furrowed slightly, and he turned his head to the right, concealing the disappointment in his eyes at that moment.
"This is the last time I'll help you," he said.
"I know," Violet replied.
"We've been friends since our school days, and our social circle extends beyond just you two. Your relationship has turned our group dynamic chaotic." Victor cleared his throat and continued, "Either reconcile with him or let go. Don't delay it anymore; we are all tired."
Violet's expression was stubborn. "I won't give up."
Victor looked down at her. They had been friends for many years, and he naturally knew she was serious.
Just as many had objected in the past, she firmly told him, "Victor, I want to become a pilot. I want to return to Albert's side in a dignified manner."
Back then, he had thought she was joking and replied playfully, "Sure! You go for it."
But deep down, he knew that as a young lady who had been pampered since childhood, Violet couldn't endure the hardships of becoming a pilot. As soon as she started training, she would retreat.
Yet she didn't. After rigorous training, she obtained her pilot's license and became the first female pilot at the Luken Branch of North Airlines.
How could someone with her character simply give up on Albert without making any effort at all?
Victor sighed lightly and said, "Albert isn't in a good mood today. That's why he came out with us. I don't know what happened to him." He hesitated for a moment. "In any case, take care of yourself, and don't push yourself too hard."
"Okay."
Albert sat in a dark corner, idly playing with the bottle in his hand. The bewildered youth danced wildly on the dance floor, their intentions becoming elusive under the influence of alcohol.
Albert had arrived too early; his friends were still on their way, and the organizer, Victor, had to go pick them up.
Alone at the table, he didn't feel lonely, just lost in thought, as if in a vacuum despite the crowded dance floor around him, his mind replaying the scene he had just witnessed upon entering.
Yvette had come to the bar with Wyatt.
She walked with her head slightly tilted forward, tucking stray strands of hair behind her ears as she moved. Unlike the other seductively dressed women around her, she exuded a calm and gentle aura, even the stray hair on her temples adding a subtle touch of sophistication. Victor always described Yvette as 'clean,' a truly bizarre choice of words.
She resembled a flower in June, pure, sweet, unblemished, almost too sacred to be defiled. Yet her fragrance was intoxicating, tempting one to trace its origin. Among many girls, she stood out, exuding a quiet and virtuous charm, not overshadowing others but impossible to ignore, making it hard for anyone to avert their gaze from her.
As she slowed down, Wyatt immediately turned back, taking her by the waist and leading her inside, soon disappearing from Albert's view.
That intimate act of holding her waist felt like a thorn piercing deeply into Albert's eyes.
He uncontrollably began to let his mind wander.
The scene before him suddenly turned white; in a hotel room, Wyatt leaned over Yvette, ambiguously removing her clothes, her delicate skin gradually revealed before his eyes.
Albert's emotions instantly flared with anger as he hastily emptied his glass of alcohol into his mouth.
He was startled by his filthy imagination and jealous, maddening reaction.
Although Wyatt had just held her waist, nothing too improper considering the fabric barrier and the public setting, Albert kept replaying the scene, feeling a tightness in his chest.
Why was he jealous of Wyatt? Why did he feel exceptionally enraged when Wyatt touched Yvette? The thought of Yvette being with Wyatt in the future uncontrollably pained him.
Why was it like this?
At the beginning with Yvette, it was clearly just a moment of self-indulgence, later driven by physical needs outweighing emotional ones. He always believed that jealousy stemmed from romantic feelings towards a woman.
He started drinking one glass after another, desperately seeking rationalizations for himself.
Perhaps Yvette was his first woman, his first intimate encounter.
That's why he felt differently about Yvette. Even if he didn't love Yvette, he would still get angry if she was with another man.
He was certain of that.
