Chapter 4

Jack could only love me.

For some reason, this thought suddenly popped into my head.

That night, I couldn't sleep at all.

The desire to find the photos Jack had taken in my dream grew stronger.

The next day, I bumped into Jack as I was leaving.

Unusually, I didn't greet him, and Jack didn't say anything either.

We tacitly acted as if nothing had happened the night before, calmly treating each other like strangers.

What I didn't know was that the moment I left, Jack's eyes instantly darkened, all traces of his previous calmness gone.

As a senior, I didn't really have many classes, but staying in the same space as Jack made me even more uncomfortable.

Jack and I didn't always have such a strained relationship; at first, he was just a bit cold towards me.

It wasn't until the night before college registration five years ago, when I knocked on Jack's door, that things changed.

At that time, my feelings for Jack were at their strongest.

Jack's bangs were slightly damp, and his delicate features showed a hint of impatience.

I lowered my head, then mustered up the courage to speak: "I like you, Jack."

Those few seconds felt like centuries.

I didn't dare to look up at Jack's expression, but I saw his pale, slender hand hanging by his pants suddenly clench, veins popping out.

After several seconds, Jack's icy voice finally sounded above my head: "Lily, I'm your brother."

"I know, but we're not blood-related..."

"Look up," Jack interrupted me.

I obediently looked up at him.

Jack stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly grabbed my chin, his voice ice-cold: "You like me?"

I nodded slightly.

Jack smiled: "You want to be with me?"

I hesitantly nodded.

Jack chuckled, his voice mocking: "Are you worthy?"

Those three words, "Are you worthy?", became like a curse. Later, every time I saw Jack, these words would flood my mind, tormenting me.

From that day on, Jack's attitude towards me changed drastically, becoming cold and dismissive.

After that day, I didn't go home for about two weeks straight.

Until I had to return home to get a USB drive.

To avoid running into Jack, I deliberately chose a time when he usually wouldn't be home, planning to grab the USB and leave.

But I didn't expect that as soon as I opened the door, I'd be pulled into an embrace that smelled of alcohol and faint mint.

Jack's usually cold voice now seemed to carry a hint of grievance: "Where have you been?"

"What's it to you?"

"How is it not my business?" he said, half-pushing, half-carrying me towards the living room.

After struggling in vain, I was brought along with him as we fell onto the living room couch:

"Jack, what exactly do you want?"

No one answered me.

I looked up and realized that Jack had already closed his eyes. He looked heavily drunk, his face flushed, and his usually neat suit now wrinkled.