In Between Us || Zhanyi

|| 41 ||

But now, as Zhan rewound those moments in his mind, the realization struck him like a blow to the chest. Had Yibo truly wanted those moments, or had he simply felt obligated? Had Zhan, without meaning to, made Yibo believe that his worth in their relationship was tied to serving Zhan's needs? That his role as Zhan's partner was to give, to yield, to present himself without question?

The memory of that day, of Yibo's trembling figure, bare body as he presented himself so vulnerably, now painted a different picture. It wasn't misinterpretation that had driven Yibo—it was something much darker, much more painful. It was a lifetime of learned submission, of believing he had to offer himself to be wanted, to be loved. And Zhan, unknowingly, had played into that belief. By not questioning, by not reassuring, by not making Yibo feel like an equal in their marriage, Zhan had failed him.

The weight of it was crushing. In trying to give Yibo space, to respect his independence, Zhan had inadvertently created a distance between them—a chasm where Yibo's silent suffering had been buried, unseen and unheard. And in his blind trust that Yibo would always voice his needs, he had allowed his husband to feel like nothing more than a servant in their own home, a man who had to earn his place in Zhan's life by sacrificing his own happiness.

Zhan recalled what Ziyi said.... "His language of expression is different from you. His understanding of situations, relationship is different from you"

"Kuan wasn't wrong...you are really a filthy man, enjoying a young body just to quench your need and thirst"

The voice was relentless, dragging Zhan through every instance of their intimacy. The soft cries Yibo had muffled against his shoulder. The way he had flinched at Zhan's touch, only to fall silent, his resistance melting into compliance. The haunting silence that often followed, Yibo turning away as if shielding himself from something he couldn't say aloud.

Everything scattered inside Zhan. He was a man of his pride which was dead with a single blow. The moments, the reactions he considered a sign of mutual consent and bliss was nothing but him stealing his own husband's innocence, hurting him in the most cruellest way.

"YOU BROKE HIM"

"No!" Zhan shouted, his voice echoing in the empty room. He stood up from the chair, his legs weak, his breathing shallow.

But the voice didn't stop. It whispered dark truths he couldn't deny.

"You wanted him to be with you, to need you, to see you as his everything. But all you did was take. You didn't give him a choice. You didn't give him freedom. You gave him a cage and called it marriage."

Tears burned at the corners of Zhan's eyes but didn't dare to roll down, his knees hitting the cold tiles. His mind felt like a battlefield, his heart a shattered vessel.

He thought of Yibo now—alone, distant, and perhaps afraid. The thought of Yibo seeing him as nothing more than a captor, a man who had taken everything from him, was unbearable.

Zhan buried his face in his hands. He wanted to scream, to claw at the voice until it disappeared, but he couldn't. Because deep down, he feared it was right.

"Yibo must had hated you Xiao Zhan."

"No" Zhan whispered

"Really????????? You really think Yibo would ever can have feelings for a..............r*ptist?"

The word hit like a violent storm, relentless and unforgiving.

"No!" Zhan bellowed, his voice erupting from the depths of his soul, raw and cracked as it shattered the stillness around him. It was a cry of anguish, of denial, of unbearable self-loathing.

...To Be Continued