The tall man loomed over Angela. However, she didn't feel the least bit intimidated by Gael's presence. If anything, there was this inexplicable feeling that she felt safe while being there with him—despite their current situation.

And the way he asked her earlier made her almost believe that he was genuinely concerned about her. But how could she be so sure? She barely knew him.

She thought about it for a second as she looked up at him, wondering how she could possibly talk about the one thing that she didn't ever want to talk about again.

"You'll drop the lawsuit?" she probed.

Gael didn't answer. He had his hands in his pockets as he continuously stared at Angela.

When he didn't reply, she added, "Is it on a condition that I tell you what you're asking about?"

He still didn't answer. It was as if his silence only emphasized his intentions. Seeing as he was waiting for her to start spilling the beans, she let out an exhausted sigh. Over the days since she arrived on this island and saw him again for the first time in a while, they had done nothing but bicker or mock each other. She didn't understand what they were. And she was pretty sure that he didn't either—what with the sudden changes in his attitude towards her.

And now that they were finally somewhat able to talk properly, she felt relieved. But his question... She closed her eyes. Even though she thought she felt safe with him, she didn't think she could talk about Evan with Gael.

"Look," she started. "I already said earlier… I apologize about the book. What I did was wrong and stupid and I did it without your consent… I regret that. And I wish I could take it back. But as much as I want for you not to pursue the lawsuit, I don't think I can give you what you're asking for." She got up from the bed and faced him. "So, I'm sorry, Gael… but I can't talk about it. Especially not with you."

Gael's brows furrowed at the last statement she said. 'Especially not with me?' he thought, not understanding why she said that. He stared in her eyes and he could see a vulnerable look on her. Her apology made him feel slightly better but at the moment, he was focused on her reaction. She had her walls up and was determined not to tell him anything, and was even willing to accept the fact that he could pursue the case. He was even more baffled.

Angela swallowed and clenched her hands together. "I appreciate that you're being kind to me. I don't want to overstay my welcome… I guess I'll just…"

She picked up her stuff and was about to walk away when he caught her wrist—the warmth of his hand burned her skin and her heart skipped a beat. "Wait," he said.

"Fine. I'm not going to force you to tell me now." He sighed and clenched his jaw. "Stay… I'll be uncomfortable if I let you leave and let you be by yourself. Just… Sit." He gently tugged her.

Biting her bottom lip, she relished the feeling of his hand holding her. It made it easier for her to lower herself back down on the bed and sit. Then, he sat next to her this time.

He reluctantly let go of her and they were quiet again. The only sound that they could hear was the heavy pitter-patter of the rain and the howling of the wind. Slowly, Gael laid on the bed with both of his hands under his head.

"How long have you been writing?" he asked moments later, thinking that it was easier to pass the time if they started talking about other stuff rather than the subject from earlier.

Angela turned her head and glanced down at him. She was surprised that he wanted to converse and thought that it was a harmless topic. She didn't really get asked by this question since her identity as a writer had been a secret, so hearing this from him stirred up her feelings and she unexpectedly smiled.

Straightening her back, she turned her body so that she was facing his direction and answered, "I've always liked listening and reading stories ever since I was a child. And in grade school, I'd scribble words and phrases on any paper or notebook that I have. It was mostly a few lines or paragraphs of poems or just any thoughts I'd like to write on paper. At some point, I also wrote some short stories but I never share them with anyone. It's more like a diary for me… I guess?"

The way Angela talked about this side of her was so different. Her tone was light and she seemed to be really passionate about it. He saw her differently and he got even more interested, so he mused, "And I'm guessing the 'romance' genre is your specialty. But you couldn't be reading or writing it since you were young. Right?"

"Oh no, of course not." She laughed.

And Gael swore he felt his heart flutter at the sound of her laugh. He swallowed.

"I like reading in general. So I could read any… But I prefer to read and write contemporary romance more," she added.

His mood was lifted and he softly chuckled—until he remembered that yesterday, he read parts of the draft that she wrote. As if he was asking a random question out of curiosity, he carefully asked, "What about other genres? Thrillers… drama... suspense… the likes?"

She slowly shifted her gaze back at him, trying to think of how she would phrase her answer, but she decided to just tell him and wonder what he would think about her. "Honestly…"

Gael anticipated her next words and he locked his gaze at her.

His calm expression quickly changed into confusion and his brows knitted, a deep crease forming on his forehead as he looked at her. It wasn't what he was expecting to hear from her. The scaredy-cat enjoyed horror?

The scenes of her screaming and shrieking from the thunder and lightning and her expression when she stood at the entrance of her pitch dark suite from earlier flashed in his mind. It was difficult for him to fit that image of her getting so scared and the thought of her enjoying reading the stuff she just mentioned.

"You?" he questioned.

Angela nodded with an innocent face. "What? I enjoy the thrill of reading stories and watching movies in those genres too. Don't you?"

Gael hadn't looked away since and he continued to study this woman beside him. How bizarre.

He watched as she casually laid next to him and propped her elbow, looking like an eager teenager in a sleepover.

Then, it was like déjà vu for him when Angela asked, "Hey, Gael… Will you tell me a story?"