Roman and Julienne's heart desire-Chapter 188: The Weight of Choices

"Let him be, love," Julie murmured softly, reaching out to hold Roman’s hand.

Her fingers wrapped around his with gentle warmth, trying to calm the tension she could clearly see tightening his jaw.

"You were also laughing," Roman countered, narrowing his eyes at her.

The moment he noticed the way Julie’s lips trembled—clearly fighting back another burst of laughter—his brows shot up.

Without a word, Roman stood abruptly from the dining table, his long strides carrying him toward the stairs.

"Roman, wait! Where are you going?" Julie called after him, scrambling to her feet and hurrying behind him before he disappeared down the hall.

Behind them, Denovan let out a small chuckle, turning his head left and right as if he were watching two children chase each other around.

"Kids..." he muttered, a fond smile curling on his lips.

Julie caught up to Roman just as he stepped into their room.

The door was still open when she slipped inside, breathless from following him so quickly.

Roman didn’t speak immediately; instead, he headed straight for the bed and lay down, staring blankly up at the ceiling as if it somehow offended him.

"What’s wrong, huh?" Julie asked gently. She sat down right beside him, her weight sinking into the soft mattress.

The room still carried faint traces of the morning—his cologne lingering in the air, the curtains letting in a muted wash of daylight.

"Nothing," Roman replied, though his tone was far from convincing. His voice was low, controlled—too controlled.

He didn’t even turn his head, simply kept staring at nothing.

Julie watched him for a moment. She had already forgotten the awkward shyness she felt that morning, the lingering memories of their intimate night that made her cheeks warm.

Azazel’s stories had swept all of that embarrassment away, replacing it with laughter. Maybe... maybe a bit too much laughter for Roman’s liking.

"Are you angry over the story?" Julie finally asked. She shifted closer, sitting right in front of him so he would have no choice but to look at her.

Roman did look at her then—raising his brows slowly as if reminding her of something very important.

"You were laughing along with them," he pointed out, his voice firm but tinged with quiet disbelief.

Julie’s lips parted in surprise before she giggled, unable to pretend otherwise.

"Really, love... it was funny," she admitted, her voice warm and coaxing as she reached for his hand again.

"So it was funny?" Roman repeated, narrowing his eyes with exaggerated suspicion.

He allowed her fingers to intertwine with his, but his expression remained stern—or at least he tried to make it seem that way.

Julie smiled innocently, running her thumb soothingly along the back of his hand. "Mm-hmm. The way he held his waist—do I really do that back then?"

Roman’s stern façade cracked slightly.

"Yeah, I used to... but it was all back then," Roman said, a small smile tugging at his lips as old memories flickered in his mind.

For a brief moment, the cold, controlled man everyone feared looked almost boyish—softened by nostalgia.

Julie’s eyes lit up with amusement, leaning in closer. "Really?" she asked, her voice soft, playful.

Roman exhaled slowly, the frustration melting from his features. He squeezed her hand gently, the corners of his mouth softening.

With her so close—eyes shining, voice tender—he could never stay upset for long.

Julie leaned closer, her curiosity glowing in her eyes. "I want to hear it from your side," she urged gently, her voice warm with interest.

Roman breathed out slowly, lashes lowering as he searched through memories he rarely allowed himself to revisit.

"It was... really fun," he admitted, though his tone carried more weight than simple amusement.

Julie tilted her head, sensing there was more beneath his surface.

Roman’s expression shifted subtly; the smile faded, replaced by something distant and unreadable.

"I used to think and act differently," he said, his voice deepening, "until two things hit me at the same time."

Julie’s breath stilled. She watched him carefully—how his gaze drifted past her, unfocused, as if he were staring through the walls and into a past that still echoed in him.

The room seemed to quiet around them, the soft morning light brushing across his features as he grew more withdrawn.

She didn’t interrupt. She simply waited, hope and worry battling in her chest.

But before Roman spoke again, the scene cut away—to another part of the city.

---

In another corner of the city, far from the warmth of Roman and Julie’s room, the atmosphere was entirely different.

KH Central Bar was alive—loud, chaotic, and painted with flashing lights that blinked in rapid shifts of red, blue, green, yellow... then plunged into darkness for half a heartbeat before lighting up again.

The bass trembled through the floors, vibrating against the soles of anyone walking inside.

The ground floor was crowded. People filled every space—some sitting shoulder-to-shoulder at the counter, others scattered around the room in clusters.Glasses clinked in a steady rhythm.

Some ordered whiskey.

Some champagne.

Some cocktails.

Others fruit mixes or regular juice—anything to fill their time.

Amid the noise, Rachel sat stiffly on a stool, looking terribly out of place. Her eyes darted left and right, anxiety written clearly across her face.

Her back was straight, shoulders tense, as if she were expecting someone to tap her any second.

When the bartender approached, she swallowed hard before speaking.

"Cold water, please," Rachel said.

The bartender blinked at her, staring as though she had spoken another language. Cold water? In a place like this? But he didn’t argue—he simply let out a small sigh and turned around to the other side of the counter to prepare it.

"She looked beautiful and dressed nicely—you’d think she came here to enjoy herself. But she actually ordered cold water."

The bartender shook his head in disbelief as he scooped two ice cubes and dropped them into a glass.

"People are really weird," he muttered under his breath. Turning around, he placed the cup gently in front of her.

"You need this, Rachel" she said under her breath as if assuring herself.

"I really need this," Rachel whispered to herself. She inhaled deeply, holding the breath in her chest for a second before letting it slowly escape through her lips.

Without wasting another moment, she lifted the glass and gulped down the entire cup of icy water in one go.

From behind the counter, the bartender stared at her like she’d lost her mind.

"How much is it?" she asked.

"Five yuan," he replied.

Rachel opened her purse. The sight made her heart pinch—if she paid for the drink, she would have only one yuan left. One yuan. The weight of that reality sat like a rock in her stomach.

Still, she pulled out the money with trembling fingers and handed it to him.

"Thanks," she murmured.

She slid off the chair and let out a shaky breath before turning toward the staircase.

The bartender narrowed his eyes.

"She’s going upstairs? Hmm. Must be a newbie."

His brows nearly touched his hairline—she had looked nervous from the moment she arrived, but seeing her heading upstairs surprised him even more.

The upper floor was a different world. Dimmer, smokier, heavier. A place where most men came for shady business.

Some came to drink, talk, or play cards... but many came for a different kind of transaction.

Rooms lined the hallway, some enclosed by wooden doors, others separated only by curtains that fluttered when someone passed by.

Soft music hummed in the background, mixed with whispers, muffled laughter, and the clinking of expensive glasses.

Girls who walked this floor usually came for one reason: to satisfy men who paid them afterwards.

Earlier, Rachel had asked the driver to drop her on the street corner. She had stood there for minutes, clutching her bag, thinking.

Thinking of the empty food basket at home. Thinking of the rent that was due in a week. Thinking of her mother’s tired face.

They only had money for two months’ rent. One week left. Food was barely enough for the next day.

If she went home tonight empty-handed, they would sleep hungry. And likely wake up hungry, too.

Her mother’s voice echoed in her head again and again:

"If things get too hard... find a man. Seduce him. Many girls do it. Men always pay." her mother said as if it nothing.

Rachel’s throat tightened.

She hated the idea.

She hated herself for considering it.

But she couldn’t let her mother suffer like this.

And so... she chose.

She chose to follow her mother’s advice, even though her hands trembled with every step she took.

Her heart pounded as she reached the top of the stairs.

The curtains swayed. The air thickened. Her fear deepened.

But she walked forward anyway.

Because she had no other choice.

With every step she took, her legs grew weaker, the weight of her decision pressing heavily on her shoulders.

The hallway felt endless, each dim light flickering above her like a silent warning. But she forced herself to keep moving.

She had no choice—not when her mother’s tired, scolding face kept flashing in her mind, not when hunger waited for them at home like a shadow.

Tonight would decide everything: her future, her mother’s survival, and whatever fragile hope she had left.

Even if her heart trembled, she couldn’t turn back now.