When Love Breaks by Jack

Gregory shot me a sidelong glance, not engaging in conversation, his grip on my wrist unyielding, leaving no room for me to pull away.

He pulled out his phone and made a call.

Shortly after, a server came in with antiseptic wipes and a tube of ointment.

Gregory snapped one of the wipes and gently cleaned my wound, his long lashes shadowing his emotions, but his voice was unmistakably muffled, “I can’t control what happened to you in the past, but from now on, you need to take better care of yourself.”

“The areas where you’re careless, I’ll cover for you.”

My heart trembled slightly, and tears welled up in my eyes, my lips quivering, almost wanting to cry.

Turns out, it’s not just sadness that can bring tears.

Before I could even speak, Gregory, a man who once claimed he was never good at delicate tasks like tending to wounds, was now applying the ointment with such care and precision, a focus I had never seer even when he was signing multimillion-dollar deals.

felt like electricity spreading through my body, making me instinctively shrink

frowned slightly, holding onto my ankle to keep me still, his

that,

Truthfully, it wasn’t painful.

constant rubbing of my wound against the inside

frowned lightly as he finished applying the ointment, swiftly putting it aside. He then scooped me up by my waist and

his forehead against mine, his eyes filled with resignation

to see you

a little

possessive yet commanding voice filled my ears, and

eyes instinctively; I wanted

initiating kisses, often just

I noticed his body’s reaction, my cheeks

his one hand holding me close, the other pinching my cheek, “Alcohol really does give you courage, huh? Getting all flirty with

“Knock, knock-“

a flower, her teasing evident: “What’s all this flirty talk? Did hear something I shouldn’t