Chapter 3

The next morning, when I woke up, Julian was already in the kitchen cooking breakfast.

He was never good at cooking. Usually, I made the meals and he acted as my sous-chef.

Why was today so different?

I walked into the kitchen and asked, "Do you need any help?"

Julian glanced back at me with a soft smile. "No need, it's almost done. Today, your only job is to eat."

The breakfast was plain, just like his cooking always was, but a faint warmth blossomed in my chest as I ate.

When he got ready to leave, he picked up a thermal lunchbox from the counter.

I pointed at it, puzzled. "Didn't you already eat?"

"It’s for Vivian," he said casually. "She mentioned she missed my cooking and wanted to taste it again."

Julian didn't notice the blood draining from my face. He reached out, gently patted my cheek, and said, "It’s freezing outside. Head back in."

I stood on the porch, watching his car disappear down the street. It felt as though someone had poured a bucket of ice water over my head.

So that was why he had gotten up so early. That was why he had insisted on cooking himself and refused my help. It was all for Vivian.

Julian, in all these years, have you ever done something so thoughtful just for me?

I stood in the freezing wind for a long time, until a sharp, tearing migraine ripped through my skull. My vision spun violently, and I stumbled back inside.

Maybe because the seasons were shifting, but lately, I had been sleeping constantly, often losing hours at a time.

When I woke up again, it was eleven in the morning. I made a few simple dishes that Julian liked, packed them up, and drove to City Hospital.

Several nurses at the front desk recognized me and immediately pointed me toward the VIP wing.

I walked down the familiar hallway toward Vivian’s room, but when I reached the door, my feet froze.

The scene through the window pierced my eyes, making it hard to breathe.

Vivian had been asleep for five years, yet time seemed to have paused for her.

She looked exactly as radiant as she had five years ago. Her once-pale cheeks were now flushed with healthy color, and her laughing eyes sparkled.

Julian was sitting by her bedside, peeling an apple for her, chatting and laughing effortlessly.

On the nightstand sat a pastel pink thermal lunchbox. It was a couple’s set with the blue one in my hand.

Hers was already empty. She had probably eaten every bite, teasing him, "Julian, after all these years, your cooking still hasn't improved at all..."

Tears burned the backs of my eyes. Suffocating on the sob rising in my throat, I turned and rushed toward the nearest restroom.

Pain burrowed through my brain like millions of flesh-eating ants.

I locked myself in a stall and wept until I could barely breathe.

When I finally stepped out, I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes were red and swollen, my skin ghastly pale. I looked like someone on the brink of death.

This was going to be my first time officially meeting Vivian. I refused to let her see me looking so pathetic.

I quickly touched up my makeup and applied a bright shade of lipstick.

When I walked into the room carrying the lunchbox, Julian froze for a moment.

"Chloe? What are you doing here?"

I lifted the container in my hand. "Did you forget? I bring you lunch every day."

Vivian smiled warmly and waved at me from the bed.

"You must be Chloe! Come in, please!"

She tilted her head. "Julian told me you're two years younger than us. Do you mind if I call you Chloe like he does?"

Her tone was effortless and welcoming, as if she were the lady of the house and I was merely a guest.