After that conversation, the atmosphere between them underwent a subtle change.
Kane Rivers no longer deliberately tormented Aria Snow, but he didn't truly let her go either. He began using a more hidden method to control her—gentle control.
"Wear this today." In the morning, he would select clothes for her, his tone gentle but brooking no refusal.
"Alright." Aria Snow always answered this way, calmly accepting all arrangements.
She found this new way of interaction even more suffocating. The previous roughness at least kept her alert and resistant; now this meticulous care made her increasingly dependent.
"Aria Snow, come here." In the office, Kane Rivers put down the documents in his hand, "Help me massage my shoulders."
Aria Snow walked behind him, skillfully massaging him. This had become part of her daily routine.
"Use more pressure." He closed his eyes, his voice carrying fatigue.
Aria Snow increased the pressure in her hands. Through the thin shirt, she could feel the tension in his shoulder muscles. Strangely, this physical contact no longer made her feel ashamed, but instead gave her an indescribable sense of security.
"That's enough." A few minutes later, Kane Rivers opened his eyes, "Sit down, have tea with me."
Aria Snow sat across from him, silently picking up her teacup. Sunlight streamed through the blinds onto the desk, and this moment was quiet like a normal couple.
"What are you thinking about?" Kane Rivers suddenly asked.
"Nothing." Aria Snow answered honestly, "I rarely think anymore."
This response made Kane Rivers' heart tighten. He wanted her dependence, but when she truly became like this, he felt deep unease.
"Aria Snow, let's... start over." He suddenly said, "Forget everything from before."
"Start over?" Aria Snow looked at him, no emotion in her eyes, "But I've forgotten how to start over."
"I'll teach you." Kane Rivers' voice carried urgency.
"How to teach?" Aria Snow asked back, "Teach me to love you again? Or teach me to hate you again?"
Kane Rivers was left speechless. He found himself trapped in a vicious cycle—he had destroyed her original self, and now he wanted to find the person he had personally destroyed.
That evening, Kane Rivers personally cooked dinner. This was the first time in five years.
Aria Snow sat at the dining table, watching his busy figure. Once, this had been her favorite scene. Now, she just calmly observed, like watching a stranger perform.
"Try it." Kane Rivers brought the finished dishes to the table, "Do you still remember your favorite sweet and sour pork?"
Aria Snow took a piece and slowly chewed: "It tastes good."
"Just good?" Kane Rivers was somewhat disappointed, "You used to say this was the best sweet and sour pork in the world."
"The me from before is dead." Aria Snow's words were light as feathers, "The me now is just someone who looks like her."
This sentence made Kane Rivers drop his chopsticks on the table.
"Don't say that." His voice trembled, "You're still you."
"Am I?" Aria Snow put down her chopsticks and looked at him, "Then tell me, what's the difference between me now and me five years ago?"
Kane Rivers wanted to answer, but the words stuck in his throat. Because he knew that the current Aria Snow was completely different from the lively, laughing girl from five years ago.
"The difference is, five years ago I would cry from being moved by a dish, now I can't even shed tears." Aria Snow's voice was calm, "Five years ago I would have my heart race from one of your glances, now I only think about how to accommodate your mood."
"Aria Snow..."
"Five years ago I had my own emotions, now I only have compliance." She continued, "You succeeded, Kane Rivers. You turned the flesh-and-blood Aria Snow into a perfect puppet."
Kane Rivers closed his eyes in pain: "I can change, we can start over."
"Change what?" Aria Snow asked back, "Change your need to control? Change your possessiveness? Or change my formed dependency?"
"I..." Kane Rivers found himself unable to answer.
"Kane Rivers, we're both sick." Aria Snow stood up, "And we're very sick. You can't live without the feeling of controlling me, and I can't live without the security of being controlled. This is our relationship now."
"This isn't a relationship." Kane Rivers also stood up.
"Then what is it?" Aria Snow looked at him, "Is it a pathological symbiotic relationship? You need me to satisfy your need for control, and I need you to avoid making any decisions. We're like two addicts who depend on each other."
This metaphor shocked Kane Rivers, but he had to admit she was right.
"So what should we do?" He asked, despair in his voice.
Aria Snow walked to him and reached out to gently caress his cheek. This was the first time in a long while that she had actively touched him.
"I don't know." Her voice was soft, "Maybe we'll just continue like this, and that's not so bad. At least we need each other."
"But this kind of need..."
"Is pathological, I know." Aria Snow interrupted him, "But this is our current situation. Do you still remember how to love someone normally?"
Kane Rivers fell silent. He found he truly couldn't remember. Five years of resentment and revenge had twisted his understanding of love.
"I don't remember either." Aria Snow continued, "I don't remember how to love, only how to cooperate. So maybe this is our fate."
That night, they didn't do anything intimate. Kane Rivers just held Aria Snow, feeling her body temperature and breathing.
"Aria Snow." In the darkness, he softly called her name.
"Hmm?"
"If we met again for the first time, would you fall in love with me?"
Aria Snow opened her eyes in the darkness, remaining silent for a long time before answering: "I don't know. Neither of us is the same person we were originally."
"Do you regret it? Coming back to my side."
"Does regret matter?" Aria Snow asked back, "Besides, I've gotten used to this life now. Not having to make choices, not having to take responsibility, just obeying. In some ways, this is easier than freedom."
Kane Rivers tightened his arms: "Aria Snow, we're really both sick."
"Yes." Aria Snow's voice sounded in the darkness, "And we're incurable."
Outside the window, the night was deep. Two equally wounded people held each other tightly, but couldn't find the direction to heal.