Zebulon's gestures of goodwill were like a bitter pill coated in sugar.
If she actually believed him, she'd just be torn to shreds again.
Some pains only need to be experienced once. She would not waver again.
"Naomi, don't you believe me?"
After Zebulon's heartfelt speech, Naomi's lack of reaction was a blow to his ego.
He grew agitated, asking through gritted teeth, "What do you want me to do?"
That was the very question Naomi wanted to ask him.
After everything he'd done, why was he turning back now?
"Just drive carefully," Naomi said, unwilling to gamble with her life.
"No! Tell me what you're really thinking. Naomi, I thought you knew me. I don't actually hate you, I just hate being controlled by my family. Who in our circle likes having their marriage arranged? I'm still young. I'm willing to settle down eventually, but is it so wrong to want to enjoy my freedom before everything is set in stone?"
"Naomi, everything I'm saying is true. The reason I went sketching with Tiffany was because—"
"Zebulon!"
In his excitement, Zebulon had completely taken his eyes off the road. He didn't even see the red light ahead. Though he slammed on the brakes just in time, bad luck seemed to be their companion that day. A large truck in the left lane, its driver seemingly drowsy, failed to notice Zebulon's car and barreled straight towards them.
In a split second, Zebulon wrenched the steering wheel, sending the car careening towards the roadside bushes.
"Don't be afraid—" As the car crashed, Naomi saw Zebulon lunge towards her.
The sound of shattering glass exploded in her ears. She felt no pain, only the rigid body of Zebulon holding her, and something warm trickling onto her face. Naomi didn't dare look up, her voice trembling as she spoke, "Zebulon... Zebulon, are you okay?"
Passersby rushed over.


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