Chapter 2

As I was getting my IV drip, my phone on the bedside table suddenly buzzed. Clement’s Instagram had updated.

It was a family portrait. It featured everyone in Clement’s family, with Grace leaning tightly against his shoulder.

The caption read: "The happiest family dinner ever."

I couldn't help but tap the heart button and leave a like.

Almost instantly, Clement’s FaceTime call came through, his voice laced with annoyance.

"Caroline, the family dinner has already started. Where the hell are you? If you didn't want to come, you should’ve just said so!"

"How do you even have the nerve to let Grace run around and host everyone in your place?"

Before I could even open my mouth to tell him I was in the hospital, he hung up on me.

My eyes welled up instantly, but I squeezed them shut, forcing myself not to cry.

"Oh, Caroline, sweetheart. You just got out of a life-threatening surgery. You need to calm down. Don't cry, it’s bad for your recovery!"

The nurse saw my tears and quickly came over, her eyes filled with deep sympathy.

"Caroline, the stab wound punctured your abdomen and severely damaged your uterus. You... you might not be able to get pregnant again."

Her words felt like a physical strike to my chest. My face went completely pale.

That night, everything that had happened during the day replayed in my mind. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep as a sharp, throbbing pain radiated from my stitches.

The next morning, in a daze, I felt someone gently tucking in my blanket.

I opened my eyes. It was Clement. A container of pasta he had brought was sitting on the nightstand, still steaming.

He reached out to touch my forehead.

"You're awake? Why didn't you tell me you got hurt last night?"

I subtly pulled back, avoiding his touch, and said half-heartedly:

"I didn't think it was a big deal, so I didn't mention it."

A flicker of surprise crossed Clement’s eyes.

In the past, even if I got a tiny paper cut, I would cling to him and whine for attention. He couldn't understand why I was suddenly so cold.

He picked up the pasta, blowing on it gently to cool it down.

"I brought you breakfast. Come on, open up."

I stared at him blankly. Right now, this Clement looked no different from the gentle, caring husband he used to be.

But when exactly did he change?

I took small bites of the pasta, my mind drifting through old memories.

Clement stepped out of the room to throw away some trash.

Ding. His phone on the nightstand lit up.

It was a Snapchat message from Grace, accompanied by a cute sticker.

Driven by some strange impulse, I unlocked his phone and tapped on their chat.

[Clement, what happened to Caroline? Is she doing any better?]

[Don't worry, she won't die.]

A mocking smile touched my lips as I put the phone back exactly where it was.

When Clement returned, he glanced at his phone, then left without even looking back, throwing a careless promise over his shoulder.

"Get some rest. I’ll come back to see you and bring you dinner after work."

The day dragged on in silence.

I ate the bland hospital food the nurse had kindly bought for me from the cafeteria, aimlessly scrolling through my phone.

Suddenly, an Instagram Reel posted by Grace popped up on my feed.

My fingers trembled as I tapped on it.

In the video, the two of them were standing at the edge of a bungee jumping platform. Grace was covering her eyes in fear, burying herself in Clement's chest.

He smiled dotingly, securing her safety harness before wrapping his arms tightly around her. Together, they leaped off the platform. The crowd around them cheered at their thrilling, romantic jump.

The caption read: "Someone's way of cheering me up is so romantic!!! No annoying third wheels around. What a perfect day."

Watching the video, my grip on the fork in my hand tightened until my knuckles turned white.

Clement has a heart condition. Ever since I got together with him, I had given up all the extreme sports I loved just to keep him safe.

I never imagined he would risk his own life doing something so dangerous just to make Grace happy.

I took a deep breath and dialed Dr. Porter, my former advisor at NYU.

"Professor, I’ve decided. I’d love to join your research team and work in your lab."