Chapter 163: What Did He Mean By "Anymore"?

The car glides through the evening streets of Crystal Country, the city bleeding gold and amber into the darkening sky. I sit in the backseat, arms crossed tightly over my chest, my body angled toward the window. My reflection stares back at me—flushed cheeks, eyes still carrying the weight of unfinished anger, lips pressed into a thin line.

Outside, the world moves in a quiet, unhurried rhythm. The city breathes around us, indifferent to the tension coiled in the narrow space between us.

Silas sits beside me. Close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from him despite the careful distance I’ve tried to maintain. His face is turned toward me—soft, sad, like a child who’s been scolded and doesn’t quite understand why. His eyes search my profile, waiting for a crack in the wall I’ve built.

He reaches for my hand.

I slap it away without looking at him.

"Don’t touch me."

The words land sharp, cutting through the quiet hum of the car. His hand retreats, but only for a moment.

"Ellis..." His voice is quiet, almost pleading. "I’m sorry. I was joking. About the pictures. And the video."

"Liar." The word comes out sharp and clipped. "Pervert. I didn’t think you’d go that far."

He shifts closer, his shoulder brushing against mine. The contact sends a ripple through me—unwanted, uninvited. His fingers find my hand again, more carefully this time, wrapping around it with gentle insistence. He lifts it to his lips and presses a soft kiss against my knuckles.

"I swear. I was only teasing."

"I don’t believe you."

He leans closer, his voice dropping to something softer, warmer.

"Honey... please forgive me."

I don’t answer. I keep my eyes fixed on the window, watching the city blur past, refusing to look at him.

He presses another kiss to my hand—slower this time, lingering, as if he’s trying to press the warmth of his lips into my skin.

"I’m telling the truth. I was only kidding. And I don’t need to take pictures or videos anymore." His voice is barely above a whisper, almost lost beneath the hum of the engine. "Now you’re with me. And you’re mine."

The words land somewhere deep, settling in my chest like a stone dropped into still water.

Anymore...?

I turn my head sharply, my eyes narrowing.

"What do you mean by ’anymore’?"

He blinks—a flicker of something passing through his gaze, there and gone before I can name it. For a moment, he looks as though he’s been caught off guard, as if the words slipped out before he could stop them. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly.

Before he can answer, the car slows to a stop.

The heavy iron gates of the Roselle mansion loom before us, tall and ornate, their dark bars outlined in gold by the glow of the estate’s lamps. They swing open slowly, revealing a long driveway lined with frosted hedges and softly glowing lanterns.

A servant steps forward and opens the car door.

Silas moves quickly, stepping out before I can press him any further.

"Let’s go." His voice is light, almost too casual. "Mom and Dad must be waiting."

I step out slowly, my eyes never leaving him.

He’s avoiding the question.

He takes my hand, his fingers weaving through mine with a familiarity that feels both foreign and achingly familiar.

"Let’s go."

I don’t answer. I simply stare at him, searching for something—anything—that might explain what he meant.

What did he mean by "anymore"?

The mansion is lit differently tonight.

Warm fairy lights twinkle throughout the garden, their golden glow spilling across the snow-covered ground like liquid honey. The hallway is adorned with arrangements of fresh white roses and winter blooms, their delicate petals untouched. The air carries the faint scent of pine and candlewax, warm and inviting against the winter chill.

My curiosity quietly stirs, pushing my anger aside for a moment.

Something special is happening tonight.

The Roselle mansion is never decorated like this without a reason. It’s not a holiday. Not an anniversary. Not any occasion I can think of. And Ian never told me anything. When I spoke to Dad on the phone earlier, his voice was clipped and cold. He simply said he wanted to see me and Silas for dinner. No explanation. No details. Just a command, wrapped in the silence of things left unsaid.

The living room doors open.

Silas and I step inside, his hand still holding mine. His grip tightens just slightly, as though he’s bracing for me to pull away.

Mom and Dad are seated on the couch, just as they always are.

But tonight, something is different.

Mom’s face lights up the moment she sees us, a brightness in her eyes I haven’t seen in a long time. She rises quickly, her steps faster than usual, crossing the room in only a few strides.

I blink, confused.

What’s gotten into her?

She pulls me into a tight hug, holding me longer than she normally would. Her arms wrap around me with a fierceness that catches me off guard. Then she steps back and turns to Silas, gently cupping his face in both hands. Her smile is soft and warm, as though she’s looking at something precious she thought she’d lost.

"You two are like the moon and the sun of Crystal Country," she says with a tender, teasing smile. "They’re both so hard to see, and you two aren’t any different. We barely get to see your faces anymore."

Silas offers her a soft, practiced smile—the kind that hides everything beneath the surface. He gives a small, apologetic nod, answering her without a single word.

I glance at him from the corner of my eye.

Perfect.

If there were an award for acting, he’d win it.

I walk forward and settle onto the couch, crossing one leg over the other, letting my arms rest lazily along the back.

Mom takes Silas’s hand.

"Son, how’s your health?" Her voice is gentle, laced with concern. "You look pale."

I watch them, my gaze sharpening.

Health?

Who told them?

Behind that innocent Beta mask... what else is he hiding?

Dad’s voice cuts through the silence, low and measured.

"After days of ignoring us, you finally decided to show your face, Ellis."

I drape my arms over the back of the couch, keeping my posture loose and unaffected.

"Didn’t Ian tell you? I was in rut."

Silas walks over and sits beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touch.

Mom glances at Silas before looking back at me.

"I’ll check on the kitchen. I’m personally handling tonight’s dinner. I want everything to be perfect." She smiles softly. "I’ll be back in a few minutes."

She walks out, her steps light, almost eager.

I turn to Dad.

"Is something special happening tonight?"

Dad lifts his wine glass, taking a slow, deliberate sip.

"No."

I raise a brow.

"Then what’s with all the preparations? And Mom handling the kitchen herself? That’s not normal."

Dad doesn’t answer immediately. He takes another sip of his wine, his gaze fixed somewhere beyond me.

"Nothing." His voice remains calm and measured. "Your mother is just happy to see you."

My fingers tap lightly against the cushion.

It’s not like we haven’t seen them in years. It’s only been a few weeks.

I watch him. He carefully avoids my eyes, his jaw set in that familiar, guarded way.

They’re hiding something.

🌸—Bonus Scene—🌸

The room is saturated with Silas’s pheromones, their familiar scent drifting through every quiet corner. Wrapped in it, Ellis sleeps peacefully, his breathing slow and steady. His hair is slightly messy, scattered across the pillow, his face relaxed in a way he never allows himself to be while awake.

Silas sits beside the bed, his golden eyes fixed on him, unblinking, quietly drinking in every little detail.

Slowly, he reaches out.

His fingers brush a loose strand of hair away from Ellis’s forehead before tucking it gently behind his ear.

"My Alpha..." he whispers, his voice so soft it barely disturbs the silence.

Ellis stirs—just a little. A small shift against the pillows, a soft murmur lost to the quiet of sleep. He doesn’t wake. He doesn’t pull away.

Silas’s fingers drift lower, tracing the curve of Ellis’s cheek, the line of his jaw, then the delicate shell of his ear. The touch is featherlight, almost reverent.

A soft smile blooms across Ellis’s lips—unconscious, unguarded, beautiful in its honesty.

Silas goes still.

For a long moment, he doesn’t move at all. He simply stares at that smile, completely caught off guard.

Then, almost as if he can’t help himself, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to Ellis’s lips. His fingers remain at Ellis’s ear, lightly tracing its delicate curve with quiet tenderness.

"Do you like it," he whispers against Ellis’s lips, his voice barely audible, "when I touch you?"

Ellis doesn’t answer.

He sleeps on, peaceful and oblivious.

Silas’s hand drifts lower—slowly, unhurriedly—slipping beneath the silk of Ellis’s nightshirt. His palm comes to rest against the warm skin of Ellis’s belly, and he gently rubs slow, soothing circles.

Ellis’s smile deepens.

"Mmm..."

A soft, breathy sound slips past his lips—a tiny giggle, barely audible, sweet and completely unguarded.

Silas’s expression softens, a smile slowly finding its way onto his own lips, warm as sunlight breaking through clouds.

He leans down and presses a gentle kiss to Ellis’s temple, lingering there for a long, quiet moment before whispering against his skin.

"I promise..." His voice is barely above a breath, thick with quiet conviction. "I’ll make you and our Honeybun happy."

A small pause.

"Always."