Forbidden Passion
Chapter 368 I Love You, Theodore

Phoebe came out of the shower, grabbed some clothes from the closet, packed her backpack, and took her laptop.

Theodore was still on the floor, smoking. His shirt was open, showing off his muscles. One leg was bent, the other stretched out, looking tense.

He held a half-smoked cigarette, the ashtray full of butts. He should've felt triumphant, but he looked like a sad beast.

Seeing Phoebe with her stuff, he squinted and asked in a raspy voice, "Where are you going?"

Phoebe didn't answer and headed for the door.

Theodore jumped up, blocked her path, grabbed her wrist, and demanded, "Where are you going?"

Phoebe bit her lip, feeling the pain from where he'd bitten her earlier.

"Let's live apart for a while," she said.

Theodore's eyes flared with anger. He laughed, "Not enough punishment? Want another round?" Phoebe's chest tightened with anger. She shook off his hand and slapped him hard.

The room went silent.

Phoebe's hand stung. She stared at Theodore, whose head had turned from the slap. 'He could've dodged it,' she thought. 'Why didn't he?'

Theodore looked at her. "Feel better? If not, hit me again. But living apart? No way."

Phoebe's eyes reddened. She raised her hand to hit him again but stopped. She threw her things at him, grabbed his shirt, and screamed, "Theodore, what do you want from me?"

She was shaking. Theodore pulled her into his arms, holding her tight. "Phoebe, stay with me. Don't go."

Phoebe's vision blurred. She tried to push him away but couldn't. She broke down, crying, and eventually went limp.

Theodore held her as they sat on the floor. He cupped her chin, kissed her eyelids, and swallowed her tears.

As the night deepened, Theodore carried Phoebe to bed. After a quick shower, he returned, holding her from behind. He held her tightly as if wanting to merge with her, never to be apart.

Phoebe couldn't sleep. She stared at the dim room, unable to understand Theodore or herself.

Earlier, she had wished Theodore dead.

Now, they held each other like lovers. Although they were practically strangers, her heart still said she loved him.

Phoebe felt pathetic. Despite everything, she still loved him.

She turned and bit Theodore's neck until he gasped in pain, her tears flowing.

"I hate you, Theodore. I hate you," she said.

But she thought, "I love you, Theodore. I love you."

Theodore's heart ached more than his neck. He cupped her face, kissed her deeply, and whispered, "Alright."

Theodore thought, 'You hate me, so I'll love you quietly. As long as you don't talk about leaving, that's enough.'

Phoebe thought the world would fall into eternal night, but reality showed that no matter how sad you are, the world keeps turning.

She opened her eyes, vision blurry, almost thinking she'd cried herself blind. Slowly, her sight cleared.

Phoebe breathed a sigh of relief. She couldn't bear losing her vision on top of not receiving the love she desired; it would be overwhelming.

She lay in bed for a bit. The space beside her was empty. Theodore must have gotten up and left.

Getting out of bed, her legs almost gave out. She grabbed the bed's edge to steady herself.

After washing up, she went to the closet to change. The clothes she packed last night were back in the closet.

The usual spot for the suitcase and backpack was empty. Both were gone. Phoebe was stunned for a moment, then climbed onto a stool to check the closet.

Sure enough, not only was her suitcase gone, but Theodore's was, too, along with several backpacks and duffel bags.

Did Theodore take all the suitcases and backpacks to stop her from leaving again?

Phoebe didn't know whether to laugh or cry. If Theodore really wanted her to stay, a single word would have been enough.

But Theodore wouldn't say it.

She got off the stool, put on a turtleneck to cover the bite marks on her neck, and left the closet.

Walking down the hallway, she smelled flowers. She quickened her pace and saw a bouquet of yellow roses in the living room. She paused, feeling inexplicably disappointed. Theodore came out with a bowl of porridge. Seeing her, he said, "Come and eat."

Phoebe turned to see Theodore in an apron, looking like a perfect househusband. She was stunned. "Didn't you leave?"

He replied, "Where would I go? Come and eat."

Theodore set the table and urged her over.

Phoebe pressed her lips together and walked over slowly. Theodore had already pulled out the chair next to him.

She didn't argue and sat down. She glanced at the dishes, which didn't look like the housekeeper's cooking.

She noticed a band-aid on Theodore's hand. When he saw her looking, he awkwardly hid his hand.

Phoebe casually picked up her utensils and glanced at the yellow roses. "Did you buy flowers?"

"Yeah." Theodore sat beside her. He had originally chosen red roses but asked the florist for the best apology flowers, and the florist suggested yellow roses.

He had bullied Phoebe last night, and she cried. If he didn't apologize, she might run away when he wasn't watching.

So, early this morning, he threw out all the suitcases and backpacks. Without those, Phoebe couldn't run away.

Phoebe took a sip of the porridge, which was soft, sweet, and hot, warming her entire body.

"Yellow roses are beautiful," Phoebe said.

Theodore relaxed and smiled a bit foolishly. "If you like them, I'll bring you some every day."