C10 It Was the First Time I Slept with You!

"Maybe I should do a bit more so you can be sure, yes or no?"

The words were ambiguous, but Mo Ya felt no interest, only shock and fear, unable to believe it. Did he admit it or deny it? If he admitted it, how could it be that the person who hurt her was Yem Mohan? How could that be possible? But if it wasn't him, how could she explain the scar? Why did this familiar, terrifying feeling grow stronger and more intense?

If the person who hurt her back then was indeed Yem Mohan, did he even know? Was it intentional or accidental? What really happened back then?

"What do you mean by that? What do you know?"

"What do you think I should know?"

"Isn't it true? Yem Mohan, tell me. I want you to tell me yourself—was it you who hurt me back then?"

Yem Mohan looked at the girl beneath him, her brows furrowed, demanding answers. With rare patience, he kissed her forehead and smiled, "All I can say is, in my memory, this is the first time we've shared a bed."

In his memory? Did that mean it wasn't him? But then, how to explain the scar on his back? She couldn't be mistaken, absolutely not. Yet, Mo Ya couldn't think any further because he had already taken action to block all her thoughts. His passion left her no room for doubt, easing her tension, fear, and stiffness until she relaxed completely.

"Don't be afraid."

His voice was like a spell, guiding her along. She never imagined such a thing could transform from pain into something else. She thought she would be left broken, but she wasn't! Yem Mohan led her forward, leaving no room for retreat.

...

When she woke up, the bed was empty. The soreness and pain in her body made Mo Ya wince with every movement.

Everything that happened last night felt like a dream. Yet, this dream was so real, so unforgettable. Becoming Yem Mohan's woman left Mo Ya with mixed emotions. She once thought marrying Ann Jie made her the luckiest person in the world. But on her wedding day, she was manipulated and mistreated. Afterward, Ann Jie only offered insults and disdain. Any affection she had was eroded by such torment.

She had been obedient, knowing it was a family-arranged marriage, and was willing to marry for the sake of the Mo family. But all she got in return was abandonment by her own family and contempt from her husband's. She wasn't some saintly figure; she had her share of heartache and exhaustion. The six months of torment drained her of kindness and tolerance. Being divorced and discarded, she felt only relief and deep resentment toward them.

She vowed to uncover the truth and find out who had wronged her. Even if it meant paying a high price, even if it meant becoming this man's possession, she was determined. Her mind was a mess, still trying to make sense of it all, when the bathroom door opened.

Yem Mohan emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a towel, his upper body exposed. As he walked, shaking his hair, he noticed Mo Ya was awake and said directly, "Awake?"

"Yeah."

"Want to sleep a bit more?"

"No, I'm..."

"Should I assume you're embarrassed? Or scared?"

Both, but Mo Ya didn't know how to respond, so she kept silent. "If you're going to be my woman, you better get over being shy," Yem Mohan said while getting dressed, making no effort to shield himself from her view, his back fully exposed to her.

Just as she was about to turn away in embarrassment, the scar she had touched the night before appeared clearly before her eyes for the first time.

Is it really that spot, even that shape?

The question rose in his mind again: Who exactly is he?