Chapter 2

The teasing and cheering around them grew louder and louder, like waves crashing over me.

Harvey was surrounded by the crowd, a gentle look of indulgence in his eyes—a look he probably didn't even realize he was making.

I didn’t make a scene. I didn't even cry. I just felt... exhausted.

I turned around and walked away without saying goodbye, pushing open the heavy wooden doors of the banquet hall.

Outside, the freezing spring rain drenched my thin evening gown in seconds.

But my heart was a million times colder than the storm.

Suddenly, my phone vibrated violently. It was the emergency hotline for the Air Medical Rescue Team.

I swiped to answer. My captain’s panicked voice blasted through the speaker.

"Maya! Get back to base immediately! There’s a massive multi-car pileup on the mountain highway. A tour bus has plunged over the cliff!"

"On my way. I’ll be at the base in ten minutes."

I ran into the pouring rain without a second thought and flung open the door of my rugged SUV.

I was the lead surgeon of the Air Medical Rescue Team. I was the one who dragged people back from the brink of death.

Yet, I couldn't drag back the heart of the man I loved.

If I couldn't save it, I might as well stop trying.

The rescue scene at the mountain highway looked like an absolute hellscape.

Blood was mixed with mud, and screams of agony echoed through the dark ravine.

Heavy rescue gear weighed me down as I rappelled from the helicopter, dropping a hundred feet down to the bottom of the cliff.

We worked for five straight hours.

My hands were covered in other people’s blood. My body was pushed to its absolute physical limit.

Just as I was securing the last critically injured patient onto a stretcher, a low, ominous rumble vibrated from the mountain above.

"Dr. Maya! Watch out! Second landslide!" my teammate screamed through the walkie-talkie.

I looked up. Huge boulders and a massive wave of mud were cascading down, swallowing everything in their path.

To protect the patient on the stretcher, my instinct took over. I threw my body over him.

An agonizing pain exploded in my back as a stray boulder slammed violently into my shoulder blade.

Before darkness swallowed me whole, only one face flashed through my mind.

It was Harvey.

Harvey, who had been dying in the ICU eight years ago.

The same Harvey I had bled and prayed for in that cold chapel.

When I woke up, it was already the afternoon of the next day.

The sharp smell of bleach hit my nose.

My captain, Vance, let out a massive sigh of relief when he saw me open my eyes.

"You’re lucky to be alive, Maya. The rock barely missed your spine."

I forced a pale, weak smile, my voice raspy. "But I made it, didn't I?"

Vance sighed. He looked hesitant, like he was holding something back.

"While you were unconscious, your phone kept buzzing. It was Harvey. I called him back to let him know what happened."

"I had to call several times before someone finally answered. But..."

My heart skipped a beat. "But what?"

Vance looked away, his expression a mix of embarrassment and anger.

"A woman answered. She said... she said Harvey was busy helping her pick out ski gear for their trip to Switzerland. She said he didn't want to be disturbed."

"She also told me to tell you... to stop playing the victim just to get his attention."

'Playing the victim.'

Those words felt like a dull knife hacking away at my chest.

So, in his eyes, my life-or-death rescue missions were just pathetic attempts to beg for his affection.

I closed my eyes, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall.

"I see. Thanks, Captain."

I didn’t stay in the hospital a minute longer than I had to.

I pulled out my IV drip, ignored the tearing pain in my back, and caught a cab back to the penthouse I shared with Harvey.

Next week was scheduled for our wedding dress fitting.

Next month was our wedding.

When I pushed the door open, the living room lights were blazing.

Harvey was standing in the walk-in closet, packing clothes into a sleek silver suitcase.

Hearing the door, he turned around.

When his eyes swept over my pale face and my mud-stained jacket, he frowned slightly.

"Where were you last night? You didn't answer your phone."

There was no worry in his voice. Only a cold, condescending accusation.

"Saving lives," I replied flatly.

Harvey let out a cold scoff, carelessly tossing a designer shirt into his suitcase.

"Maya, how much does that stupid rescue job even pay you? Is it really worth making yourself look like a homeless wreck?"

"Yesterday, Chloe was just playing around when she asked for the cross. You got mad and threw a tantrum, and now you’re staying out all night? Are you serious?"

I stared at him in silence. This was the man I had loved for eight years.

His collar was open. The silver cross was no longer there.

Suddenly, he felt like a complete stranger. So foreign that I didn't even have the energy to argue with him.

"Where are you going?" I asked, looking at the suitcase.

Harvey paused, a trace of guilt flickering in his eyes before he quickly covered it up.

"Chloe’s depression is acting up again."

"The environment here isn’t good for her recovery. I’m taking her to Switzerland to clear her head."

"Isn't our wedding dress fitting next week?" my voice sounded incredibly hollow, even to my own ears.

Harvey turned around, his frown deepening.

"A dress fitting can happen anytime. What’s the big deal if we push it back a few days?"

"Maya, you’re a healthy, normal person. Chloe is sick. Can you stop being so incredibly selfish for once?"

"She only went abroad years ago because her family went bankrupt. She’s suffered enough. Do you really have to hold a grudge over a stupid necklace?"