Helpless

"There is no thing between me and her!" Jacob's voice tensed up, lacking any hint of anger but brimming with exhaustion and helplessness. You could almost sense that his muscles were straining, his hands stretched out but trying to restrain themselves from clenching into fists.

However, Jacob's helpless demeanor infuriated Anna. Her delicately arched eyebrows furrowed, and her anger grew unstable amid her restlessness. She shut her eyes, avoiding any impulsive actions, yet her voice betrayed her clenched teeth, "There obviously is a thing between you and her. There is!"

"No!" Jacob's emotions seemed difficult to contain. His voice slightly raised, "There is no thing!"

Anna opened her eyes, her voice continuing to rise, suppressing Jacob fiercely. Astonishingly, she stared at Jacob, her voice almost incredulous, "There is! I just read your messages!"

"She works with me!"

Both of them raised their voices; Anna's sharpness and Jacob's depth collided in the cramped kitchen space, reverberating for a while. Anna's body involuntarily leaned forward, gaining the upper hand.

"She! You!" Jacob's palms shot up in frustration, as if he wanted to roar to the sky to vent his vexation and melancholy. Yet all the emotions were tightly compressed within his chest; even expressing them seemed immensely challenging, let alone letting them out. He could only roar with indignation, "You shouldn't read my messages!"

Anna averted her gaze in panic, then swiftly realized she couldn't appear weak. She turned her head back, looking at Jacob amidst his burning fury, and shook her head impatiently, "Why did you just shout at me?"

The sense of vulnerability blossomed between Jacob's brows, like a sudden blow, slamming into his head. Gazing at those bright eyes, a sense of powerlessness akin to free-fall gripped him, as if his emotions were plummeting uncontrollably—like free fall, all emotions evaporated, leaving only a deep, profound powerlessness. "I'm sorry that I shouted," he uttered.

Jacob lifted his hands to support his head, his fingers digging into his hair. His heavy brain felt like it was about to explode, yet he was helpless to stop it. The helplessness, powerlessness, and resignation left a void deep within. He didn't want to argue.

But Anna hadn't received the message. "Don't raise your voice at me," she regained the upper hand, speaking from a position of superiority. "People are gonna come around if you keep shouting."

Her words carried disappointment and reproach, pricking Jacob. He looked up, observing Anna through his fingers, his gaze incredulous. He could hardly believe Anna had really said that. Rage flared up, then vanished; irritation arose, then dissipated; excitement surged, then receded. That mixed expression silently indicted.

Unsettled, Anna averted her gaze. Jacob's gaze made her feel uneasy, and while she wanted reconciliation, the words that came out were a completely different facet. "It's really important if people come around."

The rising voice, the potent disappointment, the restless fury—Anna heard her own voice and refused to believe it was hers. Every thought in her mind resisted these words, and even she despised herself. But she had still uttered them.

Anna turned around, concealing her panic, because she knew she had made a mistake. Even with her back to Jacob, she could sense the anger that surged after his profound sorrow. This Jacob, she had never seen before, and she lacked the courage to face him.

Indeed, Jacob was angry. His eyes widened, and the shattered emotions surged once again. He knew he should stay quiet, that the argument should end now, yet his body impulsively stood up. It was as if anger had seized control of his body. "Who's gonna come around? Simon?"

He could vividly hear his own voice in his mind. He hoped Anna would deny it, hoped she would retaliate, hoped they would confront each other again. Yet, he was disappointed. This time, silence awaited him. Nothing but silence.

Jacob stood there, seemingly torn between sitting down and standing up. He seemed to want to straighten up but couldn't bear the weight on his shoulders. He ended up half-crouching, every muscle stiffening in place. Slowly, painstakingly, he stood upright again. The emotions that played across his face began to recede bit by bit. The flush of his cheeks paled, and even the anger at the corners of his mouth and eyes vanished, replaced by despair—profound, all-encompassing despair.

Still, silence prevailed. Anna resumed slicing the zucchini. The only sounds were the clash of knife against cutting board. The sizzling of the frying pan grew irritating.

The last trace of hope within Jacob's deep brown eyes was extinguished. An incredulous look flickered by. Enraged, he took two large steps forward. But the kitchen was too small. Just two steps had him violently colliding with the countertop. He paid it no mind. There was only one thought in his mind, "Did you sleep with him?"

Anna didn't answer. She remained focused on slicing the zucchini. Jacob patted Anna's shoulder, "Did you? Tell me!"

"Don't touch me!" This was Anna's sole response.

But such a response infuriated Jacob. He glared at Anna, his eyes almost popping from their sockets. He lowered his head, trying to meet Anna's gaze—gaze into those clear eyes that seemed bottomless. Even as he was unsure whether he wanted the answer to his question, "Did you sleep with him or not?"

"Jacob! Don't touch me!" Anna yelled at the top of her lungs, then pushed Jacob away. Yet this time, she was at a disadvantage.

"Did you?" Jacob roared as if an enraged lion, giving it his all. Despair's rage dragged him into an endless abyss of darkness.

"Jacob, don't!" Anna put the knife down, raised her hands, closed her eyes, but never dared to look up. Her voice turned icy, "Don't."

"Jacob, don't what?" Jacob's forceful collision with the wall sent him back. He stood frozen, gazing at Anna's profile. He stared at that side profile that refused to make eye contact with him. Grief and bitterness trickled down, a heavy weight almost suffocating. Jacob sorrowfully looked at Anna. In what felt like a fleeting moment, his anger dissipated into thin air, leaving behind only confusion and a sense of free-fall's unrelenting loss.

"Did you? It's very simple. Yes or no?!" Jacob calmly spoke, calm like a tranquil lake with ripples and fragments visible at its clear depths. "Did you?"

In one moment, the conflict blazed fiery and intense, like a comet crashing into Earth. In the next, it resumed tranquility, calm enough to make the sizzling of the oil pan seem raucous again.

Anna remained silent, only placing her hands down and gazing at the zucchinis on the cutting board. Her eyes suddenly lost focus. She wanted to raise her head to look at Jacob, but she lacked the courage. She knew that the face she had once deeply loved had now lost all its radiance and color.

Jacob quietly watched Anna, just watched. He sagged his shoulders, turned around, walked back, and sat down again, picking up the glass of wine. Not a word.

"I'm not answering your questions," Anna resumed busying herself, picking up the knife again, preparing to slice the zucchinis. She shook her head slightly and whispered softly.

But Jacob's glass of wine paused. "Why can't you look at me and tell me?" Yet his question still received no response. Emotions clashed violently within his chest, tearing him into countless fragments. He felt like he would explode in the next second, venting out unexpectedly. "Look at me!" Jacob shouted in despair, his voice like thunder on a clear day. This was his only request, to see those eyes he once deeply loved again.

Anna was startled. She closed her eyes, shrugged her shoulders, retreated in a way, but she refused to back down. She turned around and yelled firmly, "Don't shout!"

"I'll shout if I want to shout!"

"No, you won't shout in my house!"

Both of their irrational shouts reverberated through the air, shaking the entire room. Even the warm, golden glow took on a cold layer. Unrestrained anger burned away all rational restraint. There was no time for thinking; all words broke through the confines of their throats.

"All right then! I'll go back to my house! I'd love to go back to my house! I'd go right now if I could!" Jacob's emotions shattered completely, pouring out like a dam bursting. His muscles tensed, and he shouted with his neck strained, his voice resonating loudly.

Anna was equally furious, a sharp knife still in her hand. She didn't show any weakness, pushing back, "Why are you shouting at me?"

"I don't understand why you can say things like that!" Jacob's eyes locked onto Anna's back, but he received no response. "Yes, I'd rather f*cking be there!"

"Don't shout…" Anna's voice was completely drowned out by Jacob's torrential roar, overwhelmed. She threw the knife directly into the sink, decisively turned around, and left, refusing to continue the conversation.

Jacob still stared at the sizzling oil pan, his gaze failing to follow Anna's footsteps. His actions froze in place. He gazed quietly as the heavy scent of gunpowder gradually dissipated, as melancholy settled between his brows and the light in his eyes gradually faded. The tense lines of his shoulders, tightened by anger, softened slowly. Then they shattered into pieces.

A pang of pain swept through his eyes, but he didn't even have the strength to close them. His right hand still held the glass of wine, untouched, as if even alcohol couldn't numb his nerves.

Sizzle-sizzle, the sound of the oil pan echoed in the kitchen, an unsettling quietness.