Benson

Chapter 78 Care in Minus Seven Degrees

Yvonne’s almost–teary look was heart–wrenching. Her nose was red, and tears welled up her eyes but stubbornly refused to fall, making her look like a fragile doll.

Her body trembled slightly as if she was trying hard to suppress her emotions.

When Benson reached out to touch her cheek, she took a step back. “Benson, stop wasti our time,” her voice trembled, clearly struggling to control her feelings.

Her eyes showed a sense of helplessness, indicating she had made up her mind.

Yvonne had seen enough of the fake tenderness in Benson’s eyes. She didn’t want to st in the same space with him anymore. She threw the agreement on the table, grabbed h phone, and left.

Her movements were swift and decisive, as if escaping from a place that suffocated he Outside the club, the cold wind made her shiver. Yvonne remembered her coat and bag le in the private room, realizing her calmness was a facade.

She felt flustered and humiliated. Why did she still feel hurt over a man who didn’t care about her at all?

With tears in her eyes, Yvonne stood in the biting wind, waiting for a driver to pick her up Her body shivered slightly, fighting against the cold.

Her eyes revealed confusion, clearly contemplating her future.

Marcus, arriving for dinner with a client, saw Yvonne as soon as he got out of the car. She was dressed very lightly, lacking her usual calmness and steadiness, looking like a lost little girl.

Her figure appeared particularly lonely in the cold wind, evoking a sense of pity.

Marcus sighed, explained to his client, and walked towards her while taking off his down jacket. His movements were gentle and quick, as if protecting something precious.

The jacket, still warm from his body, landed on her shoulders. Yvonne, who had been looking down, lifted her head in surprise.

Her eyes showed a hint of astonishment, clearly not expecting to see Marcus here.

Marcus smiled warmly, “It’s minus seven degrees today. You’re already so beautiful, no need to dress so lightly. Aren’t you cold?” His voice carried a hint of teasing, trying to lighten her mood.

Yvonne’s misty eyes squinted in response to his joke. Her lips curled up slightly, showing she was amused by his words.

“Put it on and go home. I can’t accompany you today”

his voice, clearly because his client was waiting.

Yvonne glanced at the two men waiting nearby. Her eyes showed understanding, knowing Marcus’s work nature.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice filled with gratitude for his concern.

“I’ll be going then,” Marcus said decisively, having made up his mind.

Yvonne watched him walk towards the club while talking to the man beside him. He

looked thin in his light clothing..

As he reached the entrance and prepared to go upstairs, he winked at her, his eyes carrying a hint of encouragement, telling her to stay strong.

Meanwhile, Benson, sitting in the private room, stood by the dining table, staring blankly at the untouched dishes and the divorce agreement in front of him.

His eyes revealed deep melancholy and self–reproach, as if Yvonne’s words had pierced the softest part of his heart.

The food on the table had lost its original warmth, lying coldly, just like the gradually cooling relationship between them.

Benson’s gaze unconsciously fell on Yvonne’s bag beside her seat. Her car keys lay quietly inside, silently speaking of her departure.

Her coat still hung on the rack, the familiar garment now looking particularly lonely, waiting for its owner’s return.

Benson’s eyes lingered on the coat, a wave of unspeakable pain rising within him.

He sighed deeply, his voice full of helplessness and regret.

Yvonne’s words echoed in his ears, her accusations leaving him speechless.

He realized he had indeed ignored her grievances. If he had treated her with the same care he showed “that person,” perhaps things wouldn’t have come to this point.

On this cold night, she left just like that, without leaving any trace of warmth.

Benson’s fingers lightly touched the edge of the divorce agreement. The cold touch of the document made him feel a chill in his heart.

He closed his eyes, trying to calm the turmoil within, but Yvonne’s figure lingered in his mind.

Yvonne got into the car, gazing at the neon–lit city outside the window. After a moment, she said to the driver, “Can you take me to Anantara?”

Her voice trembled slightly, but she tried to remain calm.

The driver nodded silently turni

full of astonishment, countless questions swirling in her mind.

Mary opened the door, seeing Yvonne dressed in an ordinary men’s down jacket, whi her, carried an indescribable charm.

Looking at Yvonne, Mary couldn’t help but marve Basic clothing really relied on one’s looks. The higher the looks, the better they made simple clothes look.

Yvonne was one of those people. Her beauty was understated but unforgettable.

Mary remembered Yvonne always wearing such clothes, basic and simple workwear, making her noticeable for both her appearance and demeanor.

Mary admired Yvonne silently, knowing that such a woman would always become the center of attention wherever she went.

“Miss Yvonne, what brings you here?” Mary asked, feeling smug. Her lips curled slight gleam of cunning in her eyes.

She thought, knowing about “that person” was enough to drive a wedge between Yvor and Benson.

After all, Yvonne had her pride. With Benson treating her like that, if she couldn’t have hi no one should.

“I have something to discuss. Won’t you invite me in?” Yvonne asked with a faint smil hiding her weariness.

Mary let Yvonne in while talking about the house’s decor, mentioning that Benson liked th style and often fell asleep on the sofa.

Her tone conveyed familiarity and closeness with Benson, silently asserting her position Yvonne listened quietly, her eyes calm and deep, as if seeing through Mary’s intentions. She sat on the sofa where Benson often slept. It was indeed comfortable.

Her fingers lightly brushed the sofa’s armrest, feeling the familiar texture, but her heart was complicated.

Then, Yvonne looked at Mary with a blank

expression.

Yvonne’s eyes held no anger, no jealousy, only a serene calmness.

She didn’t blame the woman, knowing how hard it was for women to fight for their place. Mary might just be a pawn in this game.