I felt... nothing. No anger, no sadness, just a faint sense of relief. I broke the gaze, grabbed my bag and left the theatre.
As I reached the exit, I heard hurried footsteps behind me. Vincent chased after me, his hair dishevelled from running. Perhaps it was because he saw that I was calm since the beginning.
Different from the past, he began to explain, “Claire—seriously,” he panted, trying to catch his breath. “Listen, it’s not what it looked like. There were so many people watching. I couldn’t embarrass her—or myself.”
I nodded, smiling lightly. “Uh-huh, I understand.”
He stared at me, confused. “Wait... Are you saying that, or are you just being sarcastic because you’re jealous?”
I laughed softly. “Vincent, what’s there to be jealous about?”
At this moment, Zoe also ran out, but because she was wearing high heels, she suddenly broke her foot when she was almost in front of us.
“Vincent, it hurts so much,” Zoe whimpered, her voice soft and frail.
He hesitated, torn between wanting to help her and the fact that I was standing right there. His expression twisted into an uncomfortable mix of guilt and indecision.