Breaking Free, Loving Again -The Flash Marriage with Mr. CEO

Ryan's fists clenched, and his jaws ticked when he realized he might never get his hands on that diary again. He had always thought he would have at least had something left —something to prove that they existed, even if only in memories. That if he hadn't messed it all up, they could have ended up beautifully together.

But now, even that one fragile thread was gone.

Why?

Why wasn't he allowed to keep even the smallest trace of her?

Was he really that undeserving?

"Son —"

"Mom," he cut her off —for the first time —and his voice was uncharacteristically sharp. "I had just that one diary with me. Do you really have to be so cruel?"

Cruel!

The words hit Beca harder than she expected. She blinked, stunned. No — she had never wanted to be cruel. Not to her son. Never.

"Ryan, I am your mother," she said softly. "How could I ever be cruel to you?"

His finger lifted, pointing at the distance out the door —not at anything particular, but at the emptiness that surrounded him. "You took away the only thing that helped me hold myself together. The only thing that kept me from falling apart. If that's not cruel, then what is?"

Beca shook her head, her voice urgent. "No. The diary didn't belong to you, Ryan. It was Arwen's. Catrin used it —she manipulated you. She made you think Arwen wrote all those things for you, but she didn't. It was for —"

Before she could finish, Ryan raised his hand sharply, silencing her.

Beca faltered mid-step, stopping in her tracks. Her heart ached at the sight of his crumbling restraint.

"Ryan, —"

"Mom, I am not in the right state right now," he muttered, turning away from her. His back was stiff, distant, and unwelcoming. "Please just leave."

"But, son —"

"I might not hold back," he snapped, his voice slicing through the room. "Don't stay and make me say something I will regret. Please … just leave."

Beca stood frozen for a long second, her heart twisting painfully in her chest. Her hands trembled, caught between reaching out and walking away. But in the end, she chose silence —and obedience.

She turned around quietly and walked to the door.

Just as she reached the threshold, she paused and looked back once more — hoping he would allow her to console him, listen to her words of advice —find solace in her arms like he had always found during his childhood.

But he didn't.

All she saw was his back, rigid and unmoving.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Ryan let out a long, ragged breath. The silence that followed was suffocating.

He looked around the room —the place, once organized, was now all a mess —just like his life.

Sitting on the floor, he mirrored the reflection of defeat. Only if he had realized it all at the right time, he wouldn't have been like this.

But now, there was no return.

He can't go back in time to fix it, and he wouldn't get any time to mend it even in the future.

***

Meanwhile, back in Winslow Residence —

Aiden was lounging in the living room when Arwen descended the stairs, dressed immaculately in formal attire and clearly ready to leave for the company.

"Madam," Mr. Jones approached her side with his usual calm, "I have informed Alfred. He should be ready with the car shortly."

Arwen checked her watch and gave him a small smile, nodding. "Thank you, Mr. Jones."

Mr. Jones returned her smile with a respectful bow before retreating quietly.

As Arwen turned her attention to Aiden, she found him flipping through a magazine on the couch. She walked over and stood beside him, her presence soft.

He looked up at her, one brow arching in question.

She didn't say anything at first. Instead, she simply leaned down and pressed the back of her hand gently against his forehead.

Feeling the temperature normal, she hummed in satisfaction and nodded approvingly. "Good! You are doing better. Stay good like this, and don't act up. I will be back in the evening without being late."

Saying that, she stepped back, turning to leave.

But before she could walk away, Aiden reached out and caught her hand gently, stopping her.

"You are going out?" he asked, his brows drawing together. There felt something in his voice —a soft grumble mixed with unspoken reluctance.

Arwen paused. She was about to nod and say yes in response to his question, but the sight of him made her lips twitch in a smile.

This was the first time. But she noted: when sick, the usually cold, handsome and grumpy-looking CEO turns into something else entirely —not fragile, but oddly adorable. Like a kid caught in the whirlwind of emotions —from crazily childish to adorably sulky.

And she couldn't help but adore him more like this. Be more doting and pampering towards him —willing to give in to everything he asks for.

How could he be like this? And if he can be, why not always?

Not able to bear pulling away from him, she crouched down slightly to meet his gaze. She didn't speak immediately; instead, she just stared at him for a seemingly long moment.

When she saw his brows furrowing deeper under her gaze, she smiled and asked, mocking a suspicion. "Are you … pouting, Mr. Winslow?"

As if he, himself, realized it at that moment. Quickly working on his expression, he muttered with a straight face, "I don't pout." He didn't let go of her hand, and this small reluctance made Arwen smile deeper.

"Really?" she teased, a soft laugh escaping her. "Then what was there on your face before? And what about this?" She asked him to look at their hands that he had been holding, not ready to let go.

Aiden gazed at it, and the debate became clear in his gaze. Just when she thought she would leave her hand, he held it even tighter and looked back at her. "I thought you would also stay back today."