Chapter 4

I woke up crying from the dream, a crushing wave of loneliness enveloped me, making me curl up and sob uncontrollably.

I quickly pulled the comforter over my head, terrified of my sobs carrying to the next apartment. I didn't need another complaint.

I allowed myself to miss Liam – his eyes, his smile, his doting affection, the way he would lose control and kiss me.

The result of this indulgence was a fierce dressing down from the doctor the next day at the hospital.

“You know your condition, staying up all night is terrible for you. It’s been almost a year, why are you still not listening?”

I smiled sheepishly, promising profusely that I wouldn’t do it again.

The doctor knew, of course. Waking up in pain was common, and sleepless nights unavoidable. It was just that my complexion looked particularly terrible today.

After chemotherapy, passing the third-floor OB-GYN clinic, I couldn't help but glance over.

No Liam.

I felt a strange sense of loss.

Every meeting from now on would be one less. Even if it was unpleasant, I was willing to see him one more time.

As I turned to walk downstairs, feeling disheartened, I ran straight into Liam, who was returning with some reports.

He looked surprised to see me, then his face hardened. But unlike yesterday’s disdain, he uncharacteristically asked,

“Why are you back at the hospital?”

Two days in a row at the hospital had clearly raised his suspicions.

Thankfully, I had my bag today, and the payment slips were inside.

I shook my head, lying, “Ryan’s sick. I came to pick up his medication.”

At Ryan’s name, Liam’s face grew cold, and he sneered, “Your face looks terrible. Is he dead or something, that you’re picking up his medicine?”

I touched my sunken cheek, unable to answer.

He scoffed, “Willow, this is the good man you chose after you threw me aside.”

Yes, back then, when I broke up with him, he pleaded desperately and refused to believe me. So I told him I’d found someone better, that I was going to be with Ryan.

Ryan, in his eyes, was the catalyst for my abandonment, the proof of my betrayal.

“Looking at you now, do you really not regret it?” As he passed me, he suddenly turned his head to look at me, his eyes sharp, as if trying to pierce through my gaze to find the answer he wanted.

I dodged his eyes, looking down in silence.

Footsteps echoed as he gradually walked away.

I don’t know why, but tears suddenly gushed out. I choked with sobs, my heart feeling like it was being squeezed by an unseen hand.

Liam hadn't gone far, and afraid he’d hear me, I roughly wiped my tears with my sleeve and rushed out of the hospital.

Perhaps it was fate, but when I went to a nearby restaurant for lunch, I ran into Liam again.

He was, as usual, helping the pregnant woman, pulling out her chair, and bringing her warm water once she was seated. He was attentive to her every need, a truly enviable sight.

Eating my bland meal, I suddenly remembered a night in junior year when I had a high fever. Liam, I don't know how he found out, came to my dorm building late at night and took me to the emergency room for an IV drip. We sat there, and he touched my burning forehead, clearly worried sick, but I couldn't stop smiling.

I watched him bring me warm water, wring out a cloth to wipe my forehead and arms, bustling around, trying to bring my fever down. I was so happy, I almost didn’t want to get better.

Even the night nurse envied me, saying, “Your boyfriend is so good to you.”

I giggled, replying, “He is! He makes me want to be sick all the time.”

He glared at me playfully, “Who wishes for illness?”

I cheekily stuck out my tongue, earning a light flick on the forehead.

The faint taste of tomato in my mouth interrupted my thoughts. *Well, now I really am always sick,* I thought, mocking myself. *Serves me right for jinxing myself.*