He Thought She’d Never Leave—Until She Did - Chapter 19

Song Yu had waited five years for her to come back. There was no way he could just stand there and watch An He being intimate with another man.

Furious, he strode over, grabbed her wrist, and dragged her away by force.

But An He was no longer the woman whose eyes and heart were full of him. Her cool gaze held not a trace of warmth as she said coldly, “Let go of me.”

Song Yu didn’t. “An He, we need to talk.”

“Mr. Song, we don’t know each other well enough to talk about anything.” Her voice was sharp.

Maybe it was that icy indifference in her eyes that cut into him. He pulled her into a quiet corner and seized her chin, lowering his head recklessly to kiss her.

The moment he leaned in, An He slapped him hard across the face, her voice trembling with fury.

“Song Yu, I dare you to touch me again!”

Her voice echoed down the corridor, her eyes colder than ever. “Let go!”

Song Yu had never seen her like this. Even though he hated to let go, he still did. “Hehe, I—”

Slap! An He raised her hand again, another sharp crack across his cheek. “Don’t ever show your face in front of me again, or I’ll hit you every single time I see you.”

She lifted her chin in defiance. “Song Yu, I’m not the An He I was back then, and I’m definitely not that orphan your Song family took in. You and I—are strangers.”

The disgust in her eyes was so strong it made his chest tighten.

Song Yu staggered back two steps, steadying himself before softening his tone. “Hehe, can you stop making a scene?”

Making a scene?

An He laughed coldly. “Who’s making a scene here, me or you, Mr. Song? I already said we don’t know each other. You’re the one who keeps pestering me.”

“Song Yu, if you’re really a man, move.”

But Song Yu didn’t want to move—he refused to. He tried to reach her another way. “I had Aunt Liu make your favorite egg noodles. Let’s go home and eat together, okay?”

No one would let themselves fall into the same trap twice—and An He certainly wouldn’t.

“Looks like you’re not just blind, Mr. Song—you’re deaf, too.” Her voice was steady. “Get out of my way. Move!”

Her fingers clenched into a fist, ready to strike again if he dared come closer.

Just as Song Yu took a step forward, his assistant, Liu Chen, hurried over and whispered, “Mr. Song, Madam has taken ill.”

By Madam, he meant Song Yu’s mother.

“This time it’s different from before, sir—you’d better go take a look.”

Song Yu cast one last lingering look at An He before turning to leave. Anyone could see the deep emotion behind his glasses.

“Hehe, wait for me.”

An He didn’t even glance at him. She turned away and walked out, linking arms with Tang Wei at the exit. The two spoke softly, smiling at each other—an undeniably striking pair.

Their easy closeness drew murmurs of admiration from those around them.

But among all those voices, Song Yu’s was the most chilling. Through gritted teeth, he ordered, “Find out who that man is.”

An He was his. He would not allow anyone else near her.

Liu Chen nodded. “Yes, sir.”

In the car, Tang Wei brushed a strand of hair off An He’s shoulder. “You really hold a grudge, little vixen. Feeling better now?”

He knew the entire scene at the banquet had been nothing but an act. After three years together, he knew full well that An He had no romantic feelings for him.

They could be partners. They could be friends. But never lovers.

She was too sharp, too self-possessed—and he could admit he wasn’t good enough for her.

“Last time I covered for your fake relationship, this time you returned the favor. We’re even now,” An He said coolly, leaning back into her seat. “Wouldn’t you say so, Mr. Tang?”

Tang Wei smiled. “Fine. We’re even.”

He had many good qualities, but fidelity wasn’t one of them. The word devoted could apply to anyone—but not to Tang Wei.

To him, women were like clothing: if he stopped liking one, he simply discarded her.

But business partners were different. With shared interests, partnerships could last.

“Hey, don’t tell me you still haven’t forgotten that man?” Tang Wei asked.

“What do you think?” An He replied. “If I hadn’t forgotten him, do you think I could treat him that ruthlessly?”

Tang Wei pressed his lips together and nodded. “Fair point.”

“Still, you were pretty cruel,” he said. He’d seen that man—Song Yu—his eyes red at the corners, like another fool undone by love. “Next time you need me to act, give me a heads-up first. Hugging is fine, but if there’s kissing involved, I’ll need to get clearance.”

“Don’t worry. There won’t be a next time.” What Song Yu had seen tonight was enough to haunt him for a long while. She was sure he wouldn’t show up again anytime soon.

Tang Wei looked unconvinced. “Wanna bet? You’ll need me again before long.”

“Fine. Let’s bet. We’ll see.”

This time, Song Yu’s mother’s illness wasn’t an act—it was real.

The doctor had to give her a sedative before she calmed down.

“What triggered it?” Song Yu asked.

The nurse handed him a tablet. “She saw this.”

He tapped the screen. It was a video from that night’s banquet—him and An He.

In the footage, he was stopping her from leaving, gripping her wrist and pulling her into a quiet corner. Because of the camera angle, it looked far more intimate than it was.

“Someone sent it to Madam,” the nurse added softly. “After that, she…”

Song Yu stared at the video for a long time, his gaze fixed on An He in her wine-red evening gown.

If he could, he would have pulled her into his arms right then and there and never let her go.

Finally, he saved the video to his phone.

With no one else in the room, Song Yu stood by his mother’s bed and said calmly, “You’re too old to get worked up like this.”

She was fast asleep, unable to hear him.

He leaned closer. “Hehe’s back. This time, no matter what, I’ll make sure she stays. Mom, wouldn’t it be nice if I married her?”

The sleeping woman suddenly twitched, her body restless, as if she wanted to open her eyes—but no matter how she tried, she couldn’t wake.

“Alright, I know you’re happy for me,” Song Yu said softly. “I’m happy too.”

But her convulsions looked less like joy and more like anger.

He ignored it, straightening up. “Mom, if you don’t want to sleep forever, you’d better behave.”

When the nurse came back in, he said, “If she acts up again, get the doctor to give her another shot.”

“Sir, the doctor said too many injections could affect—”

His icy gaze silenced her mid-sentence.

“Yes, sir.”

It took a week for Song Mother to regain consciousness. When she did, her eyes were vacant and unfocused. She couldn’t even eat—food spilled everywhere, splattering onto Song Yu’s clothes.

Everyone in the room froze. Everyone knew about his obsession with cleanliness, but no one dared breathe too loudly.

“Mom, it’s alright. Take your time,” he said gently, coaxing her like a child.

To outsiders, the scene looked touching—Song Yu, the picture of filial devotion.

But the truth was far darker.

He whispered under his breath, “You think I want to take care of you? I’m only putting on a show. Eat or don’t—it’s up to you.”

Her lashes trembled faintly.

Song Yu continued his performance of dutiful son and caring mother. “Careful, it’s hot.”

Soup spilled again, burning his hand, leaving red marks across his skin.

He didn’t flinch. “It’s fine. My mother does this all the time. I’m used to it.”

Today, relatives from both sides of the family had come to visit.

Seeing this, they all nodded approvingly.

“Maybe she should go to a care home,” his uncle suggested. “A change of environment might help.”

“He’s right,” another added. “A nursing home would be best.”

“I’m worried about her—” Song Yu began.

“Worried about what? Look at her. She needs professional care,” said a third uncle. “It’s settled—send her to the nursing home.”

And just like that, the decision was made.

“What about the shares under her name?” Song Yu asked mildly.

“The paperwork’s done. They’re yours now.”

Half an hour later, everyone left.

Alone with his mother again, Song Yu wiped his hands slowly. “I told you not to hurt Hehe, but you didn’t listen. You did all those cruel things to her. I’m just getting a little justice for her.”

His mother’s voice trembled weakly. “You… you hurt her too…”

“Yes. I hurt her too,” he said softly. “So I deserve her anger. I deserve to die for her.”

He smiled faintly. “And I deserve to drag the entire Song family down with me for her.”

An He hadn’t planned to see Song Yu again—especially not today. Her mood was already bad; seeing him only made it worse.

“What is it now, Mr. Song?”

“Hehe, I wanted to invite you to dinner.” He held out a bouquet of flowers. “Welcome back.”

She lowered her gaze, then lifted it again. “If I remember correctly, I already told you—we’re strangers.”

“Then let’s pretend we were never close before,” he said. “We can start over. Get to know each other again. How about that?”

“Song Yu, weren’t you the one who said you hated people who cling and pester?” she asked. “So what are you doing right now?”

Those were his exact words once—when she’d gone to find him urgently and irritated him, he’d humiliated her in public. “An He, I hate people who cling and won’t let go,” he’d said.

An He pushed the bouquet away. “Funny. I hate that kind of person too. So get lost.”

Just looking at him made her feel filthy. She stepped forward, only to be blocked again. “It’s just dinner. Can’t we at least have that?”

“No. Disgusting.”

Dinner with him was disgusting.

An He really did know how to hit him where it hurt. His jaw tightened. “Having dinner with me is disgusting, but not with Tang Wei? Do you even know what kind of man he is?”

The fact that he could name Tang Wei so precisely told her everything—he’d investigated him.

She turned to face him fully. “You investigated Tang Wei?”

“I did,” he said without hesitation.

“And what gives you the right to do that?”

“I did it for you.”

“For me?” She gave a short, cold laugh. “Song Yu, what are we now? Who are you to ‘do things for me’? You’re just as selfish as ever.”

The disgust in her eyes overflowed. “I’m warning you—stay away from the people around me.”

“You care about him that much?” Song Yu asked, his voice low and pained.

“Yes. I care about him. I care very much.” Her tone was steady and unyielding. “If you dare lay a hand on him, I’ll fight you to the death.”

Her voice was calm, but every word struck deep.

Once, all that “care” had belonged to him. No matter how poorly he treated her, An He had loved him wholeheartedly.

So this was what it felt like to lose something you thought you’d never lose.

“Hehe, he’s not good enough for you,” Song Yu pleaded.

“Not good enough?” She snatched the bouquet from his hand and hurled it at his face. “And you think you are? Song Yu, you’re not even worth one of Tang Wei’s fingers.”

The bouquet hit the ground. She ground her heel into it, crushing the flowers to pulp—just like she crushed his heart.

Then she kicked it away with disgust. “Song Yu, enough is enough.”

But Song Yu had long since forgotten what enough meant. For five years, he’d lived like a man possessed, consumed by longing for her.

Five years was his limit.

“You know I can’t stop,” he said, gripping her hand tightly. “Tell me, what do I have to do for you to forgive me?”

“Forgive you?” She smiled faintly. “Sure. Go die—and I’ll forgive you.”