With her commendable performance record, after graduating from university with a bachelor's degree in economics, Lorena Schuett officially joined the national football team.

Lorena's career quickly took off. The reputation of the young striker of the national team spread far and wide.

At thirty, Lorena had already achieved considerable success. The name Lorena Schuett had gradually etched itself deeply into the hearts of football fans.

With her dominating social media, her private life was inevitably "dug up." Her flirtatious past with various women flooded the internet.

Passersby could only sigh in admiration and move on.

Because ever since becoming a member of the national team, the only images paparazzi managed to capture of her were moments of her leaving nightclubs alone. Nothing more, nothing less.

Lorena regarded going to nightclubs as a pastime, and flirting as a form of amusement. She still drank, but less than before. Having reached her thirties, she paid more attention to her health instead of indulging every personal desire.

In the hazy glow of flickering lights, Lorena savored each sip of whiskey. A young woman dressed in a fashionable outfit plopped down on the seat a short distance from her.

"One Wray and Nephew!" The woman said to the server, placing her designer handbag on the table.

A soft chuckle sounded, drawing her attention.

"What are you laughing at?" She asked, raising a brow.

Lorena shook her head with a smile.

"I just didn't expect you to order Wray and Nephew. It's really... quite strong."

Time had sharpened her already striking features, her jawline clean and defined. The mature charm of thirty suited Lorena well, leaving the woman across from her momentarily dazed.

"Well then, I suppose you're right!" The woman crossed her arms, speaking in a coy tone.

The glass of Wray and Nephew was set before her. Lorena lifted her gaze. No more words were needed. The subtle meanings drifting in the air depended entirely on who caught what.

The woman took a sip and instantly grimaced. Her tongue burned from the unfamiliar sharpness of the liquor.

"Oh my God! What the hell is this?" She covered her mouth.

"Need some help?" Lorena offered.

The woman raised a brow at her. Lorena loosely held the rim of the glass, her fingers brushing lightly against the tender skin on the woman's hand. The lipstick mark left on the rim was pressed to Lorena's lips as she took a drink, the clear liquid sliding down her throat. The woman followed every movement, unable to look away.

"Still want to drink?" Lorena asked, her low voice like warm honey, drawing the other into it.

"Yes!" The woman decisively lifted the glass, her lips touching the very spot Lorena had just touched, and drank it down.

A trace of the clear liquid lingered at the corner of her lips. Lorena glanced at it and reached out to wipe it away.

"Let me treat this one." Lorena said, turning toward the server.

Her black card was swiftly swiped. Lorena smiled at the woman, then stood and left.

"Hey!" Her arm was grabbed. "What's your name?"

"Lorena." She replied.

The woman's hand slowly loosened.

Lorena walked away, leaving behind a woman whose eyes still held a glimmer of lingering interest.

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The door to her apartment opened. She turned around, letting the door fall shut under its own weight. But a figure seized the moment and slipped inside.

Lorena was suddenly pulled into an embrace. By reflex, she threw her head back to strike. But the other person caught it. The scent of sea breeze spread through the air. Lorena relaxed, slipping out of the stranger's arms.

Standing before her was Natsha, smiling brightly. Yet the exhaustion was evident on her face. The dark circles under her eyes seemed even heavier than when she had left.

Lorena wanted to curse at her. But for some reason, no words came out.

"What are you doing here?" Lorena had asked this question for ten years straight. She considered herself a rather persistent person.

"Missed you." Natsha murmured softly, her eyes already gentler by a few degrees.

The corner of Lorena's lips curled slightly, her voice tinged with mockery.

"You missed this body of mine, more like."

Natsha shrugged.

"It's all you anyway."

Lorena rolled her eyes. She knew it! As if this woman could ever be even a little proper.

"You look like you're about to meet your ancestors!" Lorena didn't just judge silently. She said it straight to her face. "I'm not in the mood either. Go home."

Lorena turned to leave. But her waist was suddenly wrapped tightly, pulled backward. Against her will, she ended up sitting on Natsha's lap, struggling to pry those hands away.

Natsha rested her cheek against Lorena's back. The warmth that spread through her made Lorena's movements noticeably slower.

"Let me hold you for a bit." Natsha said earnestly. Her voice was like yellow lamplight blending into a gentle melody that lured one into a sweet dream. Warm and reassuring.

Lorena's actions came to a complete halt. She let the grip around her waist tighten little by little.

"If I stop showing up..." Natsha whispered softly. "...would you be sad?"

Lorena's chest rose and fell steadily. She had never asked herself that question, nor forced herself to answer it. Because she knew... even she wasn't certain what the answer truly was.

"Only now you're thinking of leaving? Afraid your fans will find out you have a bed partner?" Lornea said. "Right. With your current reputation, if this gets exposed, wouldn't it be earth-shattering?"

Natsha was an actress. The two of them had been entangled for over ten years. Sometimes Lorena wondered whether Natsha wasn't afraid their secret would be exposed. Afraid that the image she had carefully built would crumble along with it.

She felt movement from behind. Natsha was shaking her head, but with her cheek pressed firmly against Lorena's back, it felt more like she was nuzzling closer though there was no distance left to close.

"I'm not afraid. You're not a bed partner." Natsha replied. "But you... would you miss me if I left?"

"What's wrong with you? Still can't get out of character?" Lorena suddenly laughed. The sound was dry, difficult to interpret. Her replies and questions had begun to blur in meaning.

"Let's just say that's the case." Natsha hummed in response. "Would you miss me?"

"I'd be happy, if anything! Why would I miss you?" Lorena lifted her chin as she spoke.

"Lorena." Natsha called her name.

"Do you have any manners at all?" Lorena frowned.

"I love you." The words were as light as a feather.

The thin veil separating the scent of red wine and sea breeze was torn apart.

Lorena had never felt so lost before. She didn't know how to respond, nor how she should face the situation before her.

So she chose to let the alcohol diluted in her blood rescue her from a reality she had yet to find an answer for. For the first time in her life as an alpha, Lorena chose to run away instead of confronting things like a true leader.

Natsha felt Lorena's head tilt slightly, gently leaning back against her. Natsha sat there in silence for a long time.

Lorena woke up with her head pounding as if it were about to explode. The empty space beside her on the bed still carried the lingering scent of sea breeze.

Last night, Natsha had done nothing except hold her and sleep. Even the unfamiliar pheromone scent wrapped around Lorena's body, which she would usually wrinkle her nose at in annoyance, hadn't drawn a single complaint. Natsha had been strangely gentle.