The bartender had already placed a new cocktail on the bar. Titus Zane held a cigarette in one hand and the glass in the other, took a drag, then slowly exhaled. His eyes squinted slightly as he watched the smoke he blew out, his gaze blurred.
"You... smoke?" Nathan Moore asked, his handsome brows slightly furrowed.
Once, when he had her confined by his side, even in her despair, she would only drown her sorrows with alcohol, never having such bad habits.
"Hmm," she took another drag and slowly exhaled the smoke. Titus Zane’s expression was indifferent, smoking a cigarette to pass the time when bored.
In the midst of their conversation, Titus Zane took another sip of her cocktail, her lips curving slightly as she lifted her chin. Under the hazy lights, the woman with a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other was quite charming.
Her brown wavy hair had a foreign beauty to it, especially her slightly Western-style eyes, which were set deeper, with long and curled eyelashes. She was very beautiful.
It was the first time Nathan Moore had looked at her so closely. He turned his body towards her, holding the glass with both hands, his handsome brows furrowed, his dark eyes somewhat dazed.
Titus Zane put down her cocktail and casually brushed her brown waves. It was then that Nathan Moore noticed the obvious scar on her forehead.
He lowered his gaze, licked his lips, and when he looked up again, Nathan Moore hesitated before speaking.
"Here..." His well-defined finger pointed to his own forehead, "why didn’t you remove it?"
She said that technology abroad was advanced and that the scars on her body had left no trace. Why didn’t she have the most obvious one removed as well?
Titus Zane’s eyes shifted towards him. Understanding his gesture in an instant, she raised her hand, her slender fingers gently touching the scar at the corner of her forehead, then turned her gaze forward again with a slight lift to her lips.
"This one, I don’t want to remove."
"Why?" Nathan Moore asked instinctively. He saw her lips curl again, "I want to keep it as a memento, to constantly remind myself not to make the same mistakes, otherwise, this is the consequence I have to bear."
Once again, he lowered his gaze, turning the glass in his hands, his voice slightly lower.
This was the first time Nathan Moore apologized to Titus Zane.
"What?" Titus Zane’s motion to take another drag from her cigarette paused, surprise evident in her eyes.
Nathan Moore looked up, his gaze meeting hers, his expression serious, "Three years ago... I shouldn’t have treated you that way."
Titus Zane laughed, her full lips curving into a wide smile, looking very attractive. She turned her head back, her elbow on the bar, supporting her chin as she took a puff of smoke, her tone indifferent, "I’ve said it before, from now on, we owe each other nothing."
"But I hurt you," Nathan Moore immediately said.
"That was the punishment I deserved." Titus Zane took another drag from her cigarette, the curve of her lips subsiding, her expression growing hazy, as if recalling unhappy memories, or reflecting on them.
He lowered his gaze and silently took a sip of red wine. Nathan Moore’s heart was filled with an indescribable feeling.
Once, he had hated her completely, wishing he could torment her to death little by little.
However, after she left, he suddenly realized that coming home from work each day, driving back and looking at the lone figure drinking on the terrace cushion had become a habit.
Lost in thought, he heard Titus Zane ask.
Although they declared they no longer owed each other anything, the fact that she had caused her sister to be unable to walk, to not be a complete woman, was always a nagging pain in Titus Zane’s heart. She felt guilty towards Olivia Zane, even though they had never gotten along since they were young.
Nathan Moore lifted his eyes to look at her, then lowered them again, absentmindedly turning the glass in his hands, "Lily... she went back to her parents’ house."
"Oh," Titus Zane responded blandly, showing no reaction to the news of Olivia Zane going back to her parents’ house.
Nathan Moore added another sentence.
"After you left... she went back."
It was only then that Titus Zane turned his gaze, "Why?"
When Nathan Moore mentioned going back to her parents’ home earlier, she thought it meant staying at home for a few days.
"I... am often away on business trips, so I really don’t have much time to take care of her..." As he spoke, Nathan Moore’s gaze seemed to dodge.
Titus Zane just glanced at him faintly, without prying further.
Turning back again, he continued to puff on the remaining half of the cigarette in his hand.
She had no interest in inquiring about the matters between him and Olivia Zane.
Seeing that Titus Zane remained silent, Nathan Moore took a sip of red wine to his lips, "Why didn’t Mr. Thornton accompany you back?"
During the trip to City Z to discuss a partnership, their relationship was obviously... intimate.
Upon mentioning Colt Thornton, Titus Zane took a sip of his cocktail and sneered, "It was nothing but a flirtation, and when bored, we called it quits."
In one sentence, he summarized his relationship with Colt Thornton—it was nothing more than a play of flirtation for the sake of money.
Hearing Titus Zane say this, Nathan Moore hesitantly spoke up again, "You... don’t paint anymore?"
I heard that your work was somewhat famous in Paris, and you’ve had several solo exhibitions.
There was only a small bit of the cigarette left when the Bartender, very observantly, pushed the ashtray over, Titus Zane pressed the butt into the ashtray, holding a glass in one hand, raised the other, and twirled it within his line of sight, "Do you think I can still paint looking ?"
Nathan Moore looked over; under the colorful spotlights hanging above the bar, Titus Zane’s raised hand was trembling slightly—though it was very subtle, it was obvious.
"How did that happen?" Nathan Moore asked, his obsidian eyes fixed on the trembling hand, knowing full well how important a pair of hands is to an artist.
Titus Zane chuckled lightly, looked at his trembling hand and said bluntly, "Alcohol poisoning, a subsequent complication."
"Alcohol poisoning?" Nathan Moore furrowed his handsome brows, "When did that happen?"
Titus Zane looked upward and said, "When I was confined by you, I drank a lot of alcohol every day to drown my sorrows... and then it turned out ." He extended his right hand again, gazing at the still slightly trembling palm, and continued.
"I had check-ups in foreign hospitals; they said it was alcohol poisoning and that it would likely be this way for the rest of my life."
Overconsumption of alcohol, leaving behind complications, the doctors said, was very hard to cure.
"I’m sorry." The three words came out of Nathan Moore’s mouth again, and Titus Zane turned his eyes towards him, his brows slightly furrowed, taking a long time before saying, "I’ve told you already, we owe each other nothing."
It seemed she cared a lot about them "owing each other nothing," mentioning it several times in one evening.
"But your hand..." Holding the glass, for the first time, Nathan Moore was hesitating and struggling.
"Unable to paint, so, I..."
Depended on old men to support myself.
"It’s alright," Titus Zane curved his lips, his expression suddenly open, "God never closes a door but he opens a window. I don’t have to rely on painting to support myself."
So does that mean you rely on men to provide for you?
This question almost slipped from Nathan Moore’s mouth.
Pressing his lips together and lowering his gaze once more, Nathan Moore seemed a bit unable to face Titus Zane the entire evening.