Chapter 170: Breakup

Chapter 170: Chapter 170: Breakup

"Loren, there’s no need to explain."

Irene finally spoke. Her voice was calm and even, but it carried an unmistakable finality.

Loren’s shoulders dropped. Anxiety spilled from his eyes. He took a half-step forward, then stopped, keeping a careful distance. His voice grew hoarser.

"Irene, it really isn’t what you think. Those photos were taken out of context. Nothing happened between Ellie and me. Nothing inappropriate at all."

Irene’s gaze flicked to the empty water bottle by his feet, then back to his bloodshot eyes. Her tone didn’t change.

"I know what you’re going to say."

"The hotel in the photos, you two standing side by side, her leaning on your shoulder—you’re going to tell me there’s a reason for all of it, right?"

Loren nodded frantically, like he’d been thrown a lifeline.

"Yes! Ellie ran into trouble at her family’s farm in New Zealand. Her father was hospitalized suddenly. She left in a rush, without enough cash or a long-term place to stay."

"That day, after we finished at the art exhibition, she got a call from the hospital. Her father was in the ICU. She broke down."

"I was afraid to leave her alone, so I took her to a hotel and got her a room."

"I just took her upstairs, helped her call the hospital in New Zealand, confirmed her father’s condition, and stayed in the hallway the whole time. I never even went inside, let alone booked a room for both of us."

He pulled his phone from his pocket, fingers fumbling as he scrolled for the call logs and hotel receipt. "Look, this is my call record with the hospital in New Zealand—an hour and a half. And here’s the hotel bill."

"I only booked one room, and it was under her name. I left less than two hours after I went up. There’s security footage to prove it."

Irene didn’t look at his phone. She just listened, her expression unchanged.

Loren’s forehead broke out in sweat. "I know it sounds ridiculous. I know I shouldn’t have let her stay at a hotel alone, or gotten close enough to make you misunderstand."

"But I couldn’t watch her fall apart in a foreign country. She’s a friend I’ve known for years. She’s like family."

"I thought I could handle it. I never expected paparazzi to photograph us and twist it like this."

His voice was thick with frustration and hurt, and his eyes—usually warm and smiling—were full of unease.

"Irene, I know it’s hard for you to trust me right now. I know you’ve been buried in movie prep these past few days."

"I haven’t been around enough, and I let you take the fall for this. That’s on me."

"But my feelings for you have never changed. I have never once thought about betraying you."

Irene stayed silent so long that the hope in Loren’s eyes dimmed to disappointment.

The evening breeze stirred a few fallen leaves between them, like an invisible line.

"Loren," she finally said, a faint trace of exhaustion in her voice, but her words were firm.

"I believe you. I believe there was nothing physical between you two. I believe you were only trying to help a friend."

Loren’s head snapped up, light flickering in his eyes.

"But that’s not the point," Irene cut him off before he could speak.

"The point is, you knew her presence made me uneasy. You knew our relationship required honesty and boundaries. And yet you chose the one approach most likely to cause misunderstanding."

"You had countless ways to help her. You could have called the hotel and let her check in herself. You could have asked Shelly to arrange temporary lodging. You could have told me, and we could have figured it out together."

"But you didn’t. You handled it alone. You hid it. And I had to find out from paparazzi photos and other people’s gossip."

She met his eyes, and for the first time, something shifted in hers—not anger, but disappointment.

"I don’t need a ’clean’ partner. I need someone who respects my feelings, who maintains boundaries in a relationship, who communicates honestly."

"You’re a veterinarian. You know how to care for an animal’s emotions. But you forgot that trust in a relationship has to be tended to carefully. It can’t be spent recklessly."

Loren’s lips parted, but Irene’s gaze stopped him.

"This misunderstanding is just a symptom," she continued.

"From your father Beard’s situation to the blurred lines between you and Ellie, there’s always been something unspoken between us."

"I’m a director. I like control. I’m used to clear boundaries and honest communication."

"But if this relationship is going to be filled with suspicion, I won’t drain myself trying to hold it together."

She took a deep breath, her tone hardening. "Loren, neither of us is wrong. We’re just not right for each other."

"You’re good gentle, kind, considerate, responsible but you’re not right for me."

"I need someone who can walk beside me, not someone who makes me constantly worry about what might go wrong."

Loren went pale.

He stared at her, disbelief in his eyes.

"You’re saying... we’re breaking up? Over these little misunderstandings?"

"It’s not the misunderstandings," Irene shook her head. "It’s that our ideas about relationships, and how we handle them, are fundamentally different."

"The misunderstanding just made that clear. Instead of wearing each other down, it’s better to let go now and wish each other well."

She stepped back, putting distance between them. "Thank you for the time we had. I wish you and Ellie the best."

"The movie is still in prep, and I have a lot to do. I won’t see you out."

With that, she turned and walked away without hesitation.

Loren stood there, stunned, clutching the phone with his "evidence." His eyes were full of disbelief.

He watched her back recede, merge with the studio lights, and disappear from view.

He wanted to run after her, but his feet felt like lead.

He never expected something so "small" would end in a breakup.

He had so much he wanted to say. He thought he could explain things with Ellie. He thought Irene would understand.

Instead, he got a breakup.

How did it come to this?

He stood there as disappointment and regret washed over him.

Not far away in the shadows, Henry watched Irene’s resolute back, then looked at the devastated Loren.

A complicated emotion crossed his eyes.

He suddenly thought of himself two years ago. He had stood there too, full of anticipation, waiting for Irene to appear.

But she never came. He only got a card.

She’d left without even a proper goodbye.

He stopped himself from stepping forward and turned away silently.

Irene needed space to calm down right now.

He could tell she didn’t want pity or help, so he wouldn’t barge in and make it worse.