Chapter 3

Back at the hotel, Evelyn soaked in the bathtub. The water was scalding, turning her skin red, but it couldn't drive away the chill in her bones. Her phone vibrated on the shelf—a message from her assistant at the Aurelia Bay studio: "Mr. Prescotthas delivered the lapis lazuli rough you wanted. He said he'll wait until ten." When she came out wrapped in a bathrobe, Ian was sitting on the single sofa in the living room. The light from the floor lamp haloed his hair, gilding it with a soft, golden edge. "Sorry to keep you waiting." Evelyn poured a glass of warm water and handed it to him. "Where did you put the rough stone?" "At the studio." Ian closed his book, his gaze settling on the redness around her eyes. "Have you been crying?" Evelyn avoided his eyes and walked to the window, looking down at the traffic below. "Just some personal matters." "Is it about Maya's design exhibition?" Ian asked suddenly. "I received an invitation today. Her exhibition next month features a theme very similar to an unpublished series you worked on three years ago." Evelyn's hand clenched the curtain tightly. The blueprints were locked in a bank safety deposit box. Besides herself, only Maya had glimpsed them during a video call. "How did she get them?" Her voice trembled slightly. Ian took an appraisal report from his briefcase. "She hired craftsmen in Switzerland to replicate them." He paused, then added, "I've already involved the International Jewelry Designers Association. They will investigate the originality of the works." Looking at his serious profile, Evelyn suddenly felt her nose sting. This man, whom she had known for less than half a year, understood how to protect her work better than the man she had loved for five years. "Thank you, Ian." "I should be the one thanking you." Ian smiled slightly and took a velvet pouch from his pocket. "Last time you mentioned you liked bracelet. I asked a friend to acquire one from an auction for me." Inside the pouch lay a moonstone bracelet. The milky stone, carved with intertwining lotus vines, seemed to hold a soft inner light. It was warm to the touch and clearly an antique. Evelyn recognized this piece. She had bid on it until the end, only to be outbid by a mysterious buyer who paid three times the estimated price. "It was you…" "Back then, I thought something so beautiful could only be worthy of you." The tips of Ian's ears turned slightly red. Evelyn's heart felt as if gently bumped. The scent of cherry blossoms seemed to drift in again, but this time with a hint of sweet orange. Ian's fingertips lightly brushed the edge of the velvet pouch. Moonlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling window, spilling onto his hair, creating a soft silver halo. "Evelyn," he began, his voice deeper than before, "The first time I saw you at the auction, bidding for the bracelet, the look in your eyes was like swirling starlight." He turned to face her, his palm slightly sweaty but still steadily holding the hairpin. "Later, at the Milan exhibition, you stood before 'Nirvana,' explaining the curve of the phoenix's tail feathers to the judges, saying it captured the tension of the final wingbeat rising from the ashes. I suddenly understood. The look in your eyes when you gazed at the bracelet was the same as when you looked at your own designs—both held an unyielding resilience." Evelyn's breath caught slightly. The night breeze lifted a corner of the curtain, carrying the faint scent of cedar from his shirt. "I started finding all sorts of excuses to see you," Ian's Adam's apple moved, his ears reddening further. "Using the association collaboration as a pretext to ask you for coffee, deliberately waiting two hours outside your studio just to say 'the weather's nice today.'" The sweet scent of cherry blossoms drifted over the balcony railing. Ian's gaze was more intense than the moonlight. "Give me a chance, okay? Let me be the one who can understand the things in your designs, and also shield you from the storms of the world." "Ian," her voice was lighter than before, soft and slightly crumpled, "Thank you. But I…" Her words trailed into silence. She saw Ian's fingers, holding the bracelet, tighten abruptly, his knuckles turning white. The wind chime on the balcony tinkled in the evening breeze, as if shattering her unspoken words into the air. "I know what you want to say." Ian was the first to smile. "I understand," he said, his voice betraying little emotion. "It's okay. I can wait. After all, I've waited this long; a little longer won't matter."