Chapter 700
It was half a lifetime of girlish sentiments she had carefully sealed away, memories she herself rarely ever touched.
But now.
That intensely private universe she had guarded for over a decade.
He had broken into it.
The light was blindingly bright, sending a panicked tremor straight through her chest.
Sienna entirely forgot her hunger.
She sprinted at full speed, desperately rushing toward the attic without a second thought.
The door to the room was slightly ajar.
Through the crack, Sienna saw Jarred’s back.
He was sitting on the floor, facing away from the door. An open version of The Vintage Keepsake Tin sat on the desk in front of him.
In his hand, he held The Hidden Journal.
His back was slightly arched, one hand bracing against the floor while the other delicately pinched a yellowed page.
The crease of the paper looked dangerously close to tearing, revealing her neat handwriting.
He was so engrossed in reading that he didn’t even hear the creak of the door.
Sienna’s breath caught in her throat.
Her fingers clamped onto the doorframe, her knuckles turning white.
She stood frozen to the spot like a statue.
Those pages contained stories she couldn’t even stomach rereading herself.
They were filled with clumsy, burning confessions meant for a stranger.
And right now, they were resting in his palm, about to be turned page by page.
Sienna didn’t even have time to think.
Her body moved faster than her brain, darting forward as she reached out to snatch the book from his hand.
But Jarred’s reflexes, honed by years of combat, kicked in on pure instinct at that proximity.
Right as Sienna’s fingertips grazed the cover.
He threw his weight sharply to the right, pushing off the floor to spring to his feet, and leaped back two steps.
At the exact same time, he snapped the journal shut, gripping it firmly in his right hand.
His movements were fluid, lacking even a microsecond of hesitation.
Sienna grabbed nothing but empty air, her fingertips barely brushing against his sleeve.
Sienna’s heart was hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.
Her eyes were locked dead onto his thumb.
The journal was hundreds of pages thick.
Judging by the angle, he might have just opened it.
Maybe he’d read a line or two, or maybe he hadn’t seen anything yet.
Honestly, she couldn’t even remember half the garbage written in those pages.
During the bleak years of their marriage, the entries she scribbled down were disjointed.
Looking back, they were so painfully melodramatic she wanted to bury herself alive.
Every single word was a humiliation she desperately wanted to hide from him.
“Give it back p>
She took two steps forward, her voice strung incredibly tight, a frantic mix of panic and hostility.
Jarred looked down at the book in his hand, then back up at her.
The overhead light cast a shallow shadow beneath his eyes.
His expression was maddeningly neutral, completely unreadable.
Yet his eyes were overwhelmingly deep, like unstirred ink, locking onto her with unwavering focus.
“Which part of this is yours?” he asked, his voice low and laced with a raspy edge.
Sienna gritted her teeth. “That book in your hand p>
“There’s no name on it p>
Jarred flipped the book over to show the cover. The black leather surface was completely blank.
He lightly popped the cover open and tapped the inside page, his tone hovering somewhere between serious and something far more dangerous.
“But this first page… It’s covered entirely in the name Jan ed.” So, I figured. this must belong to me p>
His eyes were totally candid, and there was absolutely no malice or mockery in his voice.
But to Sienna, whose nerves were entirely frayed, every word was a serrated blade to her pride. Her face flushed violently, burning with instant humiliation.