?Chapter 220:


    “Oh, no,” Hadley protested, shaking her head. “I can’t keep imposing on you.”


    Denver raised an eyebrow, offering a faint smile. “But aren’t you tired and in a rush to get home?”


    Before Hadley could respond, her phone buzzed in her hand. Her heart sank as she read the message from Eric.


    “I’m at the entrance. Are you finished, or should Ie in to get you?” Her face drained of color.


    Noticing the sudden change in her expression, Denver asked, “Hadley? Are you alright?”


    “What?” Hadley forced a small smile, clutching her phone. “I’m fine…” What should she do? If she walked out now, Eric would surely catch her.


    On impulse, she turned to Denver. “Could you drive me home?”


    Denver brightened at the request. “Absolutely.”


    He gestured invitingly. “This way.”


    “Thank you.”


    Meanwhile, across the street, Eric sat in his car, phone in hand, waiting for Hadley’s reply.


    Looking up, he spotted a man and a woman stepping out of the club together. Their strides were in sync, and their faces were illuminated by the easyughter shared between oldpanions.


    Hadley kept her eyes fixed ahead, deliberately avoiding a nce across the street as she slipped into Denver’s car without hesitation.


    From a distance, Eric watched the vehicle pull away, his silence speaking volumes. His grip on his phone tightened, the stic casing groaning under the pressure.


    As they drove, Denver shot Hadley a quick nce before nodding toward the back seat.


    “There’s a bag behind you. Can you grab it for me?”


    “Sure.”


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    Hadley hesitated for a moment before reaching back. The bag was heavier than she had expected, and its weight stirred her curiosity.


    Her fingers tightened around the strap. “Want me to open it?”


    “Go ahead.”


    “Okay.”


    Inside, she found an insted container, the kind used for takeout. She popped the lid, and the familiar scent of sweet pumpkin soup filled the car.


    She frowned slightly, ncing up at Denver. “What’s this for?”


    Denver chuckled. “Pumpkin soup. Isn’t it your favorite, Hadley?”


    “It is.”


    Memories flickered—Denver had brought her the same soup once before. That time, she never got to taste it. Eric had made sure of that.


    “Go on and have some,” Denver urged. Noticing her hesitation, he nodded toward the container. “I got it just for you.”


    Hadley felt a flicker of embarrassment, uncertain whether Denver had gone out of his way intentionally.


    She couldn’t ignore it—the subtle pull of his interest, faint but unmistakable.


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