CHAPTER 113: CHAPTER 113: EACH CONCEALING THEIR THOUGHTS

He turned sideways and slowly raised his hand.

Hope flickered in Shannon Yarrow’s eyes.

Just when everyone thought Blake Sinclair would take the bowl of soup from her hand, his hand suddenly veered away completely ignoring the soup, and reached straight towards the steamed coral trout on the table.

He picked up the public chopsticks, grabbed the most tender piece of fish belly from the middle, removed the bones, and naturally placed it on the small plate in front of Holly Crowe.

Shannon: "....."

The others: "..."

Holly looked at the fish on the plate, a complex emotion arose in her heart.

She had already noticed Shannon’s gaze earlier, no matter where she and Blake Sinclair went, there was always a pair of eyes following.

Occasionally glancing back, she would crash into those eyes.

It was desire without concealment, jealousy, and madness from unrequited love.

And at this moment, Holly finally understood why even after just a few encounters, Shannon would have such hostility towards her.

She liked Blake Sinclair, but it was Holly who was standing beside him now.

She thought it would be best to keep things simple and just finish the meal, but someone insisted on creating a scene.

Holly silently noted down Blake Sinclair in her heart, then suppressed her emotions and smiled.

She reached over to take the soup from Shannon’s hand and set it aside, "Thank you, Shannon, he doesn’t drink it."

Holly picked up a wet towel to clean her hands, "The doctor advised his wound is in the recovery phase, so I need to monitor his diet; outsiders’ things aren’t convenient."

With that, she turned to look at the man helping her with the crabs, "Right, honey?"

Blake Sinclair paused in his crab peeling, his eyes full of amusement as he looked up, "Yes, listen to my wife."

The smile on Shannon’s face completely froze.

"Then...I was inconsiderate."

She smiled awkwardly, her hand tightening under the table, forcing herself to sit back down.

Some perceptive directors noticed the tension in the air, laughed it off, and brought up a few topics to shift away from this Chapter.

The atmosphere became lively again, continuing with rounds of drinks.

After three rounds of drinking, many people were getting tipsy.

A few bold young directors and guests started egging on each other, hanging onto the producers’ necks and noisily moving to the private room’s partition to sing.

The upbeat and noisy music soon permeated through the walls, many people were carried away by the atmosphere, humming and swaying away from their seats.

Only the corner of the main table seemed isolated by an invisible barrier.

The three of them had their own thoughts, silently maintaining a balance.

Holly put down her chopsticks, her voice carrying a hint of willfulness, "Blake Sinclair, I want to eat shrimp."

"Alright, I’ll peel it for you."

Blake Sinclair swiftly shelled several shrimps and placed them on the plate in front of Holly.

His hands didn’t stop, and he picked up a crab, slowly extracting the meat and piling it onto the plate.

"The crab meat is tender, want to try?"

Holly glanced at the pile of peeled seafood, feeling a sense of suffocation in her heart, replied with a simple "Mm."

"Pomegranate?"

Seeing that she didn’t pick up her chopsticks, Blake Sinclair took the pomegranate from the plate, patiently peeling it, the tiny red seeds quickly forming a small mound.

In reality, Holly had no appetite at all, her stomach felt stuffed with emotions, stifling her.

She was aware of Shannon’s glances, especially that accidental one earlier, that resentful look made her feel even worse.

This just confirmed that the issue between them wasn’t entirely resolved, just thinking about it made Holly agitated.

Shannon saw all of this, her hand gripping the wine glass so tight that veins were visible.

She looked at the man who was always cold and distant in her memory, now patiently attending to another woman’s trivial needs, shelling for her, deboning, serving fruit for Holly.

And facing Holly’s indifference born out of contentment, his face showed no impatience, even...embraced it willingly.

She had never seen him like this.

It felt like her heart was twisted, sour and jealous.

Why could Holly so naturally have all of this?

Clearly, she was the one who met him earlier, stayed by his side longer.

Underneath the table, her other hand clenched tightly into her palm, the sharp pain barely allowed her to maintain her almost collapsing expression.

She abruptly took the wine on the table and drank more than half of it in one go.

The strong liquor burned down her throat, but it was not a thousandth as painful as the ache in her heart.

Shannon acted as if she couldn’t feel anything, drank several more glasses, and with the alcohol taking effect, she eventually couldn’t hold back.

"Teacher Holly,"

She tried hard to make her expression appear as if it was merely out of concern, "President Sinclair hasn’t fully recovered, has he? Always busy like this, how about letting him take a break?"

Without a mirror, Shannon Yarrow knew how stiff and awkward her smile must look at that moment.

Holly Crowe heard her words and narrowed her eyes slightly.

She didn’t lift her head to respond to Shannon, but idly poked at the shrimp in her bowl with her chopsticks, a smile devoid of warmth playing on her lips.

"Blake Sinclair," she turned to look at the man beside her, "Are you tired?"

Blake Sinclair ladled a bowl of soup for her, met her gaze, and said with conviction, "I’m not tired."

"Really? I saw Teacher Shannon paying so much attention to you, I thought you were tired."

Blake Sinclair followed her gaze toward Shannon and nodded lightly, "Thank you."

Not a word more, full of detachment.

Only then did Holly turn to look at Shannon, "He says he’s not tired."

Shannon’s lips twitched slightly.

"But, well, Teacher Shannon’s reminder is also right."

Holly shifted her tone, picked up the empty bowl in front of Blake Sinclair, and ladled a bowl of soup, "Your wound hasn’t fully healed, you should get more nourishment."

She brought the soup back, placed it in front of Blake Sinclair, extended her palm, and made a gesture for him to eat.

Blake Sinclair picked up the spoon, tasted the soup, and looked at Holly with a smile, "Tastes good, thank you, Holly."

Shannon couldn’t sit still any longer, suddenly stood up, the chair legs screeching against the floor.

"Sorry, excuse me for a moment." She didn’t even look at their reactions before quickly leaving the private room.

The fleeing figure was both embarrassed and heartbroken.

Holly watched the direction in which Shannon left, not feeling much satisfaction in her heart, nor any sense of victory, just a deeper fatigue and confusion.

Blake Sinclair’s gaze remained on Holly, not missing the subtle changes in her expression.

A faint sense of panic rose in his heart, he reached out and covered her slightly cool hand, holding it tightly.

"Holly..."

Holly neither resisted nor responded, letting him hold her.

This silent standoff had no winner, no smoke of gunpowder, only an overwhelming bitterness and tension filling the air.

.....

The corridor outside the restroom was lined with thick carpet, absorbing the footsteps of passersby and isolating most of the noise from the private rooms.

Shannon composed herself, touched up her makeup, opened the door, and immediately saw Holly leaning against the opposite wall.

She had one leg bent, her calves crossed, the tip of her shoe rhythmically tapping the floor.

Hearing the sound, she slowly raised her head, evidently having waited for some time.

Shannon wiped the water stains from her hands and walked forward.

Since her feelings had been exposed, she no longer maintained polite appearances, raised her chin slightly, and said coldly, "Waiting for me?"

Holly heard the wariness and hostility in her words, and dispensed with pleasantries, going straight to the point: "What’s your relationship with Blake Sinclair?"

She wasn’t foolish, Shannon’s gaze when she looked at Blake Sinclair was filled with years of obsession and pain, something that doesn’t develop overnight; there must be something between them.

Since Blake Sinclair didn’t speak, she had come to ask Shannon.

Though it felt quite undignified to ask a rival, it was better than holding it in and feeling miserable.

Shannon hadn’t expected Holly to be so direct.

She laughed softly, crossed her arms, looked at her mockingly, and said, "Our relationship? Didn’t he tell you already? Why ask me?"

She deliberately threw the question back at her.

Holly stared into her eyes, "Blake Sinclair said your family helped him in Brelond, but that there’s no connection between you two."

"No connection..."

Shannon murmured these words, as if she had heard something laughable, a deep self-mockery and bitterness gradually appearing in her eyes, but she quickly suppressed it.

"So, that’s what he thinks?"

Even though she had always known it was all one-sided wishful thinking on her part, hearing such heartless words still made her feel like a joke.

Holly watched the expression on her face, a faint unease rising in her heart.

At that moment, Shannon took a step forward, the smell of alcohol wafting over, "Since that’s what he said, then just take it as such."

She paused, deliberately prolonging her tone, with a vague, purposeful guidance: "After all... I’ve always listened to him."

Holly listened to her highly suggestive words, displeased, and furrowed her brow.

She hadn’t admitted anything, but it felt like she’d said everything.

There were secrets between them, and she was just an outsider kept in the dark.

The unease and suspicion Holly had managed to suppress surged back up from the depth of her heart.