This was a painful awakening bought with nine years of my youth—
When marriage became a cage for three,
When every compromise turned into a knife aimed at myself.
Anya Sterling kept a diary,
documenting the ninety-nine times Julian Thorne had abandoned her for his first love, Willow Hayes.
He abandoned her in a fire, chose Willow under a falling chandelier, and even diverted her life-saving blood for Willow—
Until that rainy night, when Anya lost her child and all reasons to hold on.
“Julian, we’re finally even.”
She vanished completely, as if she’d never loved him.
But when he finally realized his mistake and searched high and low for her,
he only saw her in an interview, smiling softly, leaning against another man:
“That was my past life; it ended long ago.”
### Anya’s POV
Julian discovered that diary on an ordinary rainy day.
I walked into the study with a freshly warmed glass of milk. Julian stood by the desk, a cream-colored, hardcover notebook in his hand.
The gold-embossed words “Our Story” in the bottom right corner stabbed my eyes.
It was my diary, a testament to a slowly dying marriage.
He had just returned from the flight simulator, his jacket sleeves still carrying the biting scent of rain. It was his signature smell, as unapproachable as the winds at high altitude.
His brows were tightly furrowed, his long fingers clutching the diary. His gaze was so cold it was almost alien.
His study had always been off-limits.
I’d never stepped inside.
Even when helping him organize documents, I waited outside the door.
“You’re back.” I forced myself to be calm, placing the milk in front of him. “I prepared some warm milk for you.”
He didn’t take it. He merely tossed the diary back onto the desk, his voice as cold as if it came from ice: “Don’t put your things in my study again.”
My hand, gripping the glass, trembled slightly, and the milk in the cup rippled faintly. I lowered my head, hiding all emotion in my eyes, and softly said, “Okay, I understand.”
I turned, intending to put the diary away.
But the next second, his phone suddenly rang.
He glanced at the screen, and his face instantly changed.
“What did you say?!” His voice abruptly rose. “Send me the address!”
After hanging up, he grabbed his jacket and rushed out.
“Julian, what’s wrong?” I instinctively chased after him.
He barely paused: “Willow’s villa is on fire!”
Willow Hayes.
The name that had haunted me for three years.
I watched him sprint towards the garage, looking utterly distraught. I pulled open the passenger door and said, “I’m coming with you.”
He glanced back at me, his expression clearly impatient, but he didn’t refuse.
The engine roared, and the black Bentley lunged into the pouring rain.
He drove fast and furiously, the wipers thrashing wildly, rain drumming against the glass.
I gripped the seatbelt, watching blurred lights flying past outside the window.
I knew that whenever Willow was involved, he would lose control.
I had seen this loss of control too many times.
In our first year of marriage, Willow divorced overseas. He abandoned me and my family’s dinner, flying overnight to be with her.
In our second year, she said she was feeling down, so he canceled our anniversary trip and booked the earliest flight to see her.
Each time, he became a stranger, a madman I didn’t recognize.
And I could only sit silently beside him, watching.
The car finally stopped in front of the villa halfway up the mountain.
Thick smoke billowed, the wail of fire truck sirens echoing through the hills.
He practically leaped out of the car.
I followed, and the rain instantly drenched my clothes.
He grabbed a firefighter, his eyes bloodshot: “Someone’s still inside! Willow is still in there!”
“Sir, please calm down! The fire is too intense, we’re working on the rescue—”
But he wasn’t listening.
He pushed the man away, staring fixedly at the burning villa, then took a step, about to rush inside.
“Julian!”
A few of his friends who had just arrived grabbed him.
Liam clung to him, roaring, “Are you insane? Do you have a death wish? Do you even care about your flying career anymore?”
“Let go!” Julian’s voice was raspy. “I can’t let her get hurt…”
At that moment, I stood not far away, icy rain lashing my face, blurring the line between water and tears.
Ultimately, he broke free from everyone and plunged into the inferno.
My heart nearly stopped; I was frozen in place.
After what felt like an eternity, a figure burst from the flames, collapsing to the ground, a woman clutched in his arms.
It was him.
And it was Willow.
He had protected her well.
But his back was covered in burns, his arms a bloody mess.
Ambulances wailed as they sped away.
His friends half-dragged me into another car, and we followed them to the hospital.
The red light of the emergency room glowed, casting the corridor in a stark, pale light.
Willow had only inhaled some smoke, nothing serious; she sat on a bench, tears streaming down her face, looking fragile and pitiful.
All his friends gathered around her.
And I stood at the end of the corridor, as invisible as the air.
I heard Liam’s voice, hushed yet seething with anger: “That Willow, she still has such a hold on him! It was like this three years ago, and it’s still like this now!”
Owen sighed: “You know how it is. She was the one he’d always idealized since childhood. If Willow hadn’t run off to marry that older guy overseas, Anya wouldn’t even be in the picture.”
“Bullshit! What’s wrong with Anya? What’s she lacking? We’ve all seen how she’s treated him these past three years. But him? Has he ever treated her like a wife? He only married Anya after Willow dumped him, just to mend his broken heart and fulfill Mr. Sterling’s dying wish!”
Mr. Sterling.
My father.
Hearing those words, my thoughts instantly went back three years.
By his hospital bed, my father weakly took my hand and placed it in Julian’s.
“Julian, after I’m gone, I beg you to take care of her.”
At that time, he had just been dumped by Willow, a dark cloud hanging over him, silent and brooding.
He glanced at me, his eyes void of warmth, yet he still nodded.
I thought that if I tried hard enough, his heart would eventually thaw.
But I was wrong.
On our wedding night, he was a drunken mess, muttering “Willow, don’t leave…” over and over.
In that moment, I set an expiration date for our marriage.
I bought that diary, telling myself—
Every time he broke my heart because of Willow, I’d make an entry.
When I hit the ninety-ninth entry, I’d let go.
That diary was his ninety-nine chances,
and my last shred of dignity.
…
After what felt like an eternity at the hospital, I returned home alone.
The house was so empty it only echoed.
I walked into the study, picked up the diary he had discarded onto the desk, and turned to a new page.
The blank page seemed to glare at me.
I gripped my pen and wrote down a new line:
[Entry 77:]
[To save Willow, he rushed into a burning building, disregarding his own life.]
[It turns out, he wasn’t careless with his body as a pilot; it was just that the scales of his affection didn’t tip for me.]
###
Anya’s POV
The surgery was a success.
The doctor said he had been moved from the Intensive Care Unit to a VIP room, but the burns on his back and arm would require long-term care.
I hadn’t slept a wink all night. When morning broke, the rain had stopped, but the sky remained overcast.
I didn’t rush to the hospital. Instead, I called my lawyer first.
That prenuptial agreement had been drafted by the Thorne family three years ago.
Back then, I was so caught up in the joy of finally marrying the man I loved that I signed it without even glancing at it.
Looking back now, perhaps that was the only right thing I did in this misguided marriage.
The lawyer’s voice was polite and calm, but my heart felt hollowed out.
After ending the call, I finally grabbed my car keys and headed to the hospital.
The corridor was long, the air hung heavy with the scent of antiseptic.
Before I even reached the door, I saw them through the small glass pane.
Willow sat by the hospital bed, holding a cotton swab, clumsily dabbing the medication, carefully applying it to his wounds.
Her hands trembled, her expression focused and gentle.
And he, in turn, watched her, his expression tender.
In that moment, I suddenly had a ridiculous illusion—
As if I were the unwanted intruder in someone else’s world.
I didn’t push the door open.
I just stood there quietly, my fingertips resting on the doorknob.
“Julian, I’m so sorry,” Willow’s voice choked. “It’s all my fault. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be hurt.”
His voice was weak and gentle: “Silly girl, it’s not your fault. I could never just watch you be in danger.”
My breath caught, my chest tightened.
“But your hands…” she began to cry. “You worked so hard to become a pilot. I’ve ruined your dream.”
I held my breath, waiting for his answer.
Perhaps I was waiting for a reason to completely give up.
He chuckled softly, a tenderness and doting in his laughter that I’d never heard before.
“You’ve got one thing wrong, Willow. My dream of becoming a pilot and soaring through the sky? That dream itself was for you.”
“You said you loved watching the sea of clouds, loved freedom, wanted to go anywhere in the world. So I thought, if I could fly a plane, I could take you anywhere you wanted to go. My dream wasn’t flying; it was flying with you.”
—Boom.
In that moment, my mind felt like it had been struck by lightning.
So that was it.
All his efforts, his glory, his convictions, had never belonged to me.
I once thought flying was the unshakeable faith of his life,
I respected him, supported him,
To ensure he was free from worries, I resigned from my designer job, becoming the woman behind him—
Keeping the house meticulously organized, learning to take care of his diet and daily life, even carefully preparing his birthday gifts to revolve around “flying.”
Turns out, I thought I was protecting his dream,
But in reality, I was protecting only the shadow of another woman.
Every takeoff and landing of his flight carried the weight of his deep affection for Willow.
And I was just a bystander in that dream.
I slowly withdrew my hand, straightening my back, and left that door.
No sound, no glance back.
I walked very slowly down that long corridor,
Each step felt like walking on the grave of my own marriage.
—
After leaving the hospital, I received a call from Captain Miller.
“Mrs. Thorne,” his voice was tinged with helplessness and apology. “There’s something… I think you should know.”
I agreed to meet him at a coffee shop.
He handed me a brown envelope.
“Julian wrote this a long time ago and kept it locked in the company locker. We found it when tidying up.”
I nodded and tore open the envelope.
Inside was a resignation letter.
It was addressed to the airline, but it read more like a love letter.
He wrote that he chose to fly because of a girl’s dream from his youth.
He endured the toughest training, overcoming all difficulties, just so that one day, he could personally pilot a plane and take her to see the landscapes she most wanted to see.
And now, she was back—
So he decided to give up flying, no longer chasing the clouds, because he wanted to stay on the ground to be with her.
The date on the letter was the day after Willow returned to the country.
In that moment, I suddenly understood.
He hadn’t impulsively chosen her in the fire;
He had decided to give up everything for her the moment she returned—
His career, his marriage, even himself.
I refolded the letter, put it back in the envelope, my fingertips ice-cold.
Captain Miller looked at me, seeming to want to say something, but in the end, he just sighed softly: “Please take care.”
“Thank you.” I smiled, my tone so calm it surprised even myself.
After leaving the coffee shop, I took out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long time.
“Hello? Is this Anya?” A familiar, gentle voice came from the other end.
It was Leo, my university senior.
Now a partner at a top design firm.
“Leo, it’s me.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “You once mentioned wanting me to join your studio… is the offer still on the table?”
He paused for a moment, then, with clear surprise, said, “Of course! Always! Have you decided?”
I looked out the window. City traffic flowed like a river.
Car after car reflected in the post-rain sunlight, blurred yet dazzling.
“Yes.” I softly replied. “I’ve decided. I’ll come once I’ve settled things here.”
###
Anya’s POV
I picked Julian up from the hospital the day he was discharged.
He recovered faster than I expected; he looked much better than the last time I’d seen him.
When I went to handle the discharge papers, I saw Willow standing by his bed, her eyes red-rimmed as she gently reminded him of various things.
They stood very close, their voices tender and familiar. In that moment, I felt they were the couple, and I—just a superfluous observer.
I calmly watched for a few seconds before walking over and saying, “The paperwork’s done. We can go.”
He finally shifted his gaze from her to my face.
Today, I was wearing a cream-colored trench coat with a black turtleneck underneath. The reflection in the mirror showed me looking thinner, and calmer, than before.
“Mm,” he responded blandly, taking the duffel bag from my hand.
Willow said softly from the side, “Anya, you’ve worked hard these past few days. I’ll leave Julian in your care.”
Her tone carried a subtle, almost imperceptible declaration of ownership.
I didn’t reply, just turned to Julian and said, “Let’s go.”
The drive home was as silent as ever.
He tried to speak several times; I could see his hesitation in the rearview mirror when he looked at me, but I didn’t give him the chance. I just focused on the road ahead, my hands steady on the steering wheel.
It wasn’t until the car pulled into the villa’s garage that he finally spoke: “Today is our third wedding anniversary.”
My hand paused.
So, today marked three years of our marriage.
“Right,” I replied softly, with no extra emotion.
He seemed unsettled by my coldness, frowning slightly. He pulled a velvet box from his suit’s inner pocket and held it out to me.
“A gift.”
I glanced down at it. It was a brand I recognized.
His choices were always appropriate, but he’d never truly known me.
I didn’t take it.
“Julian,” I looked up at him, my voice flat, “we don’t need to keep up these pretenses between us anymore.”
He froze for a few seconds, his hand stiff in mid-air. In that moment, I clearly saw the shock on his face.
“What do you mean?” His voice deepened.
I didn’t answer, just pushed open the car door and got out.
He followed me inside, his voice edged with irritation: “Anya, what exactly is wrong with you? I know you’re upset that Willow was with me in the hospital, but she was just worried about me, nothing else.”
My hand paused on my shoe, and I slowly looked up.
Staring at his handsome, yet increasingly unfamiliar face, I suddenly found it a little laughable.
“I’m not upset,” I said. “I just think we should both be honest with ourselves. You don’t have me in your heart, and I don’t want to keep deceiving myself anymore.”
He was stunned into silence by my words, his face instantly paling.
The air was silent for a long time before he finally said in a low voice, “Let’s have dinner together tonight, to celebrate our anniversary.”
I was about to refuse, but then I reconsidered. It was for the best; some things needed to be settled.
“Where?” I asked.
“A new restaurant. The ambiance is nice.”
He mentioned a name.
It sounded familiar, but I couldn’t recall where I’d heard it. I just nodded: “Okay.”
—
In the evening, Julian changed his clothes and held a bouquet of beautifully wrapped champagne roses.
He handed me the flowers, his expression a bit stiff.
The flowers were beautiful, their scent rich. I took them, merely saying, “Thank you,” in a flat tone.
Then I got into his car.
The restaurant was in the city center, brimming with lights, exquisitely decorated; clearly, the owner had excellent taste.
As soon as we arrived at the entrance, the hostess enthusiastically greeted us: “Mr. Thorne, you’re here! Ms. Hayes is waiting for you inside.”
In that instant, my fingers, holding the flowers, tightened slightly.
I suddenly remembered that this restaurant was a venture Willow had been preparing since returning to the country; she had posted design sketches on SnapChat.
I understood.
His so-called anniversary dinner was just an excuse to support Willow’s opening.
Julian seemed to notice my unusual behavior and explained in a low voice, “It’s Willow’s restaurant opening today. I’m here to support her, and we can celebrate our anniversary at the same time.”
—At the same time.
How ironic.
I said nothing more, just followed behind him, holding the flowers.
The restaurant was packed with guests. Willow, in a white gown, was radiant under the lights.
Seeing Julian, her eyes lit up, and she hurried over, holding up her skirt.
“Julian, you’re here!” She smiled brightly, her gaze lingering on Julian, then sweeping to the bouquet in my hands, a flicker of triumph in her eyes.
Julian handed her a limited-edition gift box: “Happy opening.”
“Thank you, Julian! I knew you were the best!” She smiled sweetly, then, as if just noticing me, said, “Oh, Anya’s here too? Please sit down.”
After sitting, I realized that the bouquet of champagne roses she held—was identical to the one in my arms.
I looked down at the flowers and let out a short, bitter laugh.
Turns out, even my “gift” was just an afterthought.
I barely ate anything during the dinner.
They chatted about topics I could never join, from childhood memories to university anecdotes, their eyes filled with familiar tenderness.
He remembered she didn’t eat cilantro, was allergic to seafood, and preferred certain red wines.
But he never knew I didn’t drink cold beverages and hated carrots.
I sat there, an unwanted spectator, watching them perform a play of rekindled romance.
I looked down, sending a text to my lawyer: “Please prepare the divorce papers.”
Then, I stood up and said to Julian, “I’m going to the restroom.”
He didn’t even lift his head, just grunted.
I walked a few steps, then heard Willow’s laughter: “Julian, do you remember? We used to love coming here to watch the stars—”
I didn’t listen to the rest.
The bathroom water was icy cold. I splashed it on my face, trying to calm myself.
The reflection in the mirror showed a pale face, hollow eyes.
I barely recognized myself.
Was it really worth torturing myself like this for a man who didn’t love me?
I took a deep breath, preparing to leave, but at the door, I saw her.
Willow leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a clear challenge in her eyes.
“Anya,” she walked closer, her voice no longer gentle, “Did you know? The design for this restaurant was my university graduation project. And Julian, to give me this place, spent his entire year’s flight bonus.”
My heart tightened, but I still calmly asked, “So, you’re bragging now?”
“Bragging?” She laughed, leaning closer, and whispered, “I’m just telling you a fact—you’ve occupied my place for three years. It’s time to give it back.”
She paused, her gaze sharp as a knife: “Do you know why he married you? Because of your father, because he felt he owed the Sterling family. He never loved you. His heart has only ever belonged to me, from beginning to end.”
I had known these words for a long time, but hearing them from her mouth, the sting was deeper.
I looked at her and said coldly, “Are you done? Move.”
She seemed surprised by my calmness and paused for a moment.
Just then, a wave of screams suddenly erupted from the restaurant hall.
Immediately after, a creaking sound came from above.
Both she and I looked up simultaneously.
The enormous crystal chandelier was breaking one by one—
###
Anya’s POV
The enormous crystal chandelier swayed violently, shards reflecting a blinding glare in the light.
I instinctively wanted to step back.
In that instant, a dark blur shot from not far away—it was Julian.
My heart skipped a beat, completely against my will.
I thought he was coming to save me.
But reality always twisted the knife when a person was most vulnerable.
He didn’t hesitate for a second.
He swooped past me, swift and decisive, pulling Willow, who was beside me, tightly into his embrace. He shielded her with his body, his back to the danger, holding her close to his chest, moving her away from directly beneath the chandelier.
The whole process took less than two seconds.
And I was completely abandoned on the spot.
In that moment, he didn’t even spare me a glance.
It turns out that in a life-or-death moment, human instinct doesn’t lie.
Whoever he chooses to save is the most important person in his heart.
And I didn’t even deserve to be pulled away as an afterthought.
“CRASH—”
The sound of the chandelier falling was deafening.
I had no time to react, only felt a massive force hit my back, and pain instantly surged through my entire body.
The world spun, and the surrounding commotion faded into the distance.
Before losing consciousness entirely, I thought I heard Julian’s voice.
“Anya—!”
But what did it matter?
A belated cry couldn’t save anything.
My world plunged into darkness.
—
When I woke up again, the pungent smell of antiseptic almost made me gag.
Pungent, yet absurdly familiar.
I struggled to open my eyes. The white ceiling was a blur.
I tried to move my fingers, but the pain almost stole my breath.
“You’re awake?”
I turned my head and saw a doctor in a white coat. His voice was gentle.
“What… happened to me?” My voice was dry and raspy, like sand weathered by wind.
“You were hit by a heavy object, suffering multiple soft tissue contusions, a mild concussion, and a fractured left arm. But thankfully, you’re out of danger.”
I managed a weak smile, my lips barely curved.
Physical wounds would heal, but what about the emotional ones?
My heart was already shattered.
—
The hospital room door opened.
Julian walked in.
He looked a bit disheveled, with a small scratch on his temple.
He walked to the bedside, looking at me, his expression complicated.
“How are you feeling?” he asked in a low voice.
I didn’t look at him, just stared at the sky outside the window.
“I’m not dying,” I said.
He was silent for a few seconds, seemingly wanting to explain: “The situation was too urgent then, I—”
“You instinctively saved her,” I finished his sentence, then turned my head to meet his gaze. “I understand. You don’t need to explain.”
He stiffened, his Adam’s apple bobbing.
I could tell he was flustered.
But what did it matter?
“Anya, I didn’t mean to,” he said with difficulty. “Willow was terrified. I had to make sure she was okay first—”
“She was terrified, she needed you to comfort her,” I interrupted him. “What about me? Julian, when I was knocked unconscious, where were you?”
He was speechless.
The room was so quiet that only our breathing could be heard.
Watching his lost and helpless expression, I suddenly felt… so pointless.
I used to be able to be sad all night over a single word from him, but now, I didn’t even have the energy to be angry.
“You should go,” I closed my eyes. “I just want to be alone.”
He seemed about to say something else when his phone rang.
He glanced at the screen, his expression changing, and immediately stepped out of the room to answer.
The soundproofing wasn’t great.
I could still hear his voice, trying hard to keep it down—
“Don’t be scared, I’ll be right there. I’ve already booked a therapist, she’s upstairs. Just wait for me, okay?”
…
A few minutes later, he pushed the door open again.
A hint of apology on his face: “Anya, Willow is shaken and emotionally unstable. I need to take her to see a therapist. I’ll have a caregiver look after you here.”
I still kept my eyes closed, without even fluttering an eyelash.
He wouldn’t know that my heart was already numb.
It turned out he wasn’t here to see me specifically today.
He was just accompanying Willow to the hospital to see a therapist and happened to pass my room.
Perhaps he saw my name at the front desk and then remembered he had a “wife” also staying here.
He “happened” to visit me.
Just like he “happened” to have anniversary dinner with me,
“Happened” to play the role of husband in our marriage.
My life and death would always be an accessory in his world.
Seeing that I didn’t speak, he must have thought I was tacitly agreeing. He stood for a moment, then finally turned and left.
The sound of the door closing was exceptionally clear in my ears.
I slowly opened my eyes. The white ceiling made my head ache.
I raised my uninjured right hand, felt for my purse on the bedside table, and pulled out that worn diary.
I turned to a new page, and with all my strength, wrote:
[Entry 85:]
[The chandelier fell, a moment between life and death.]
[He passed me by and saved her.]
[This is what abandonment felt like.]
###
Anya’s POV
I stayed in the hospital for three days.
In those three days, Julian didn’t show up once.
My only companion each day was a diligent caregiver. She took my temperature, changed my dressings, brought me food – everything was mechanically polite.
On the morning of the third day, I calmly completed the discharge procedures without notifying anyone.
The cast on my arm was still on, and my back still ached faintly, but strangely, my steps felt lighter than ever before.
Returning to the villa, I felt no lingering attachment.
I went straight up to the second floor and began packing my things.
There wasn’t much, actually. A few everyday clothes, some design tools, and several well-worn professional books.
Three years of marriage, and I felt like a temporary guest here.
As I dragged my suitcase, preparing to go downstairs, voices drifted up from the living room.
It was Julian, along with a few of his friends.
I instinctively paused, hiding in the shadows of the staircase landing.
“Julian, are you even a man?”
Liam’s voice smelled of alcohol, yet his words were jarringly sober. “Anya is still lying in the hospital, and here you are, spending every day with Willow at her therapist appointments! Do you think you’re being fair to Anya?”
Owen chimed in from beside him: “Exactly, Julian. What you did this time was too much. When that chandelier fell, how could you leave Anya alone there? I heard she even fractured her arm!”
I held my breath, my chest tightening.
After a long silence, I heard Julian’s hoarse voice: “You don’t understand… Three years ago, Willow was forcefully taken away by her parents right in front of me. She cried and begged me, but I was powerless. That helplessness and regret, you can’t possibly comprehend.”
He paused, his voice filled with deep anguish.
“I swore I’d never let her be hurt in front of me again. So when that chandelier fell, my mind went blank… I just knew I couldn’t lose her again.”
“So for your idealized first love, you’d sacrifice Anya?”
Liam scoffed. “She’s your wife! For three years, what fault could you find with her? She gave up her career to take care of you. When you were sick, she stayed up all night. When you had stomach problems, she cooked all sorts of dishes for you. What the hell about you deserves her?”
What about him deserved me?
I wanted to know too.
I thought that hearing these words, Julian would at least feel guilty.
But he didn’t.
“She’s good. She’s good in every way, gentle and sensible, taking care of me meticulously.”
He paused, as if letting out a deep sigh.
In that instant, even breathing became painful for me.
It turned out all my efforts, all my goodness, weren’t worth more than a single phrase: “Just not the one I wanted.”
I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle any sound.
I didn’t linger. Dragging my suitcase, I slipped away silently through the villa’s back door.
—
I moved into a serviced apartment in the city center.
The room wasn’t large, but it was clean and bright, like a fresh start.
I quickly threw myself into preparing the studio.
After back-to-back video conferences with Leo, we finalized the location, renovation plans, and future strategies.
I didn’t sleep a wink, sketching designs for three days and three nights straight.
When I sent him the final proposal, his barely concealed excitement came through the phone.
“Anya, you’re a genius! This proposal is fantastic!”
I smiled. It was the first genuine, heartfelt smile I’d had in a long time.
It turned out that when I stopped focusing all my attention on the man who didn’t love me, the world had become so vast.
I, Anya Sterling, was not anyone’s accessory.
Above all, I was my own person.
—
The day before I left for A-City, the lawyer delivered the divorce papers.
The terms were simple—I wanted nothing; I would leave with nothing.
I picked up the pen and signed my name. As the pen tip glided across the paper, an odd sense of calm settled in my heart.
Just then, my phone rang.
It was an unknown number.
“Hello, is this Ms. Sterling?”
An anxious female voice came from the other end.
“It is.”
“I’m the caregiver from the nursing home where your mother used to live. We recently found a box she had always treasured while organizing her belongings. It seems to contain some important items. Would you be able to come and pick it up sometime soon?”
My mother’s belongings?
###
Anya’s POV
My mother—Seraphina Sterling.
That name would forever be the deepest wound in my heart.
Two years ago, she passed away from a sudden heart attack on my birthday.
Since then, I’d never celebrated my birthday again.
Tomorrow would be the anniversary of her death.
I drove to the cemetery on the city outskirts, dark clouds seeming to swallow the entire sky.
The wind lashed against the car windows, and my hands clenched the steering wheel.
I hadn’t expected to see Julian at the cemetery entrance.
He stood there, holding a bouquet of white lilies, his posture straight, his expression solemn.
When he saw me, he froze for a moment, then walked over.
“I figured you’d be here today,” he said in a low voice.
I ignored him, just brushing past him.
I didn’t want any interaction with him, not even a polite greeting.
He followed me, his voice cautious: “Anya, I was drunk that night. Don’t take what I said to heart.”
I stopped, turning to face him.
“Julian, you don’t need to explain. I heard everything clearly, and I’ve thought everything through. Thank you—for making me completely give up.”
His face instantly paled, his lips trembled slightly, but no words came out.
I turned and walked to my mother’s grave.
The lilies in my hand felt damp. I gently placed them before the tombstone, then took out a handkerchief and carefully wiped dust from the photo.
In the picture, she was still gentle, with a pure and kind smile.
“Mom, I’m here to see you,” I whispered in my heart.
“I’m going to A-City now, so I might not be able to visit you often in the future. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of myself and start anew… living the life you hoped for me.”
The wind whispered through the cemetery trees.
I didn’t know if it was my imagination, but in that moment, it felt as if my mother was smiling at me.
Julian stood behind me, not too far, not too close. I could feel his gaze on me.
That gaze suffocated me.
After the memorial, we walked back in silence.
A muffled thunder rumbled in the distance. What began as a fine drizzle suddenly intensified, pouring down.
Just then, his phone rang out jarringly.
I didn’t need to look to know who it was.
He answered the call, his expression changing drastically.
“What did you say? She fell down the stairs?!”
“Which hospital? I’m coming right away!”
He slammed on the brakes, the car skidding to a halt by the roadside.
Rain lashed against the windshield, like a fractured curtain.
He turned to me, his eyes anxious, “Anya, something happened to Willow. I have to go immediately. You—”
“Let me out here,” I calmly interrupted him.
He froze for a moment. “But it’s pouring outside…”
“It’s fine.” I had already unbuckled my seatbelt, my voice calm, almost flat.
“She needs you more.”
He looked at me, seeming to hesitate, but that hesitation vanished in an instant.
He nodded. “Then you’ll take a cab home. Be careful.”
He said that, then started the car.
I watched the car speed into the pouring rain, its headlights slowly swallowed by the darkness.
I suddenly laughed.
This is what it felt like for my heart to die.
Not crying, not pain, but complete numbness.
I opened my umbrella and turned to walk towards the roadside.
In that very instant, an out-of-control truck careened around the corner, blinding headlights engulfing me.
I had no time to react—
“Bang!”
A violent impact, my body thrown into the air, then slammed heavily onto the ground.
Excruciating pain exploded from my bones, and my world instantly dissolved into darkness.
…
When I opened my eyes again, the pungent smell of antiseptic almost made me gag.
It was that familiar hospital again.
I tried to move, but a tearing pain erupted in my abdomen, making me curl up.
The doctor pushed the door open, his face grim.
“Ms. Sterling, you had a massive hemorrhage when you were brought in, and your condition was extremely critical.”
He paused. “We found that you… were two months pregnant.”
I froze.
Pregnant?
My mind went blank with a buzzing sound.
Pregnant? With Julian’s child?
The doctor continued, and then came the words that felt like a knife:
“But due to severe blood loss, the baby couldn’t be saved. We urgently needed to give you a blood transfusion, but the hospital’s entire stock of Rh-negative blood had just been diverted.”
I looked up, my throat so dry I couldn’t speak.
“Who?”
The doctor sighed, his expression complicated: “It was Mr. Thorne. He called, saying Ms. Hayes urgently needed blood, and told us to send all the stock to her room. We contacted him, saying your condition was more critical, but he refused, then turned off his phone.”
I stared blankly at the ceiling, a chill spreading through my chest.
He diverted my blood to save Willow.
He killed our baby with his own hands.
I lay on the hospital bed and suddenly laughed.
Laughed until tears streamed down my face.
Julian’s cruelty, it truly knew no bounds.
I fumbled for the diary under my pillow, my hand trembling so much I could barely hold it.
Turning to the last page, I wrote down, stroke by stroke:
[Entry 99:]
[He killed our child.]
I put down the pen and closed the notebook.
Julian, we’re done.
↓ ↓ Download the Novel Master app, Search 【 302435 】reads the whole book. ↓ ↓
NovelShort
