Chapter 1

Ever since I saw that unsent draft on his Moments in Julian Sterling’s phone, I had become a completely different person.

When he worked night shifts until dawn, there was no longer a light left on waiting for him at home.

When he worked over ten consecutive hours in the operating room, I no longer texted to ask if he was tired.

The unfamiliar perfume that occasionally lingered on his shirt—I no longer probed or questioned it either.

Even when a flare-up of acute gastroenteritis struck in the middle of the night, and I forced myself to drive to the ER alone, the nurse asked gently, "Is there no family accompanying you?"

I merely replied with a pale face, "I don't have any family."

The nurse lowered her head to enter my information, then suddenly looked at me again. "Are you... Director Sterling's girlfriend? I saw you at the hospital's annual gala last time. Director Sterling happens to be on night shift tonight, right upstairs. Should I call him?"

Julian Sterling was the youngest director in this hospital. I hadn't expected to be recognized.

"No need," I said, closing my eyes. "Don't disturb his work."

The nurse hesitated, wanting to say something, but in the end, she simply arranged for me to stay in the observation room.

Half an hour later, the door to the observation room was pushed open.

Julian walked in wearing his crisp white coat. He habitually pressed the back of his hand against my forehead, his brow furrowing slightly. "Why didn't you just call me if you were sick?"

His palm was warm, bearing a familiar touch.

In the past, even if it was just a mild headache, this warmth had been enough to let me fall asleep in peace.

I turned my head away, avoiding his touch. "It's just acute gastroenteritis. An IV drip will do. It's no big deal."

My tone was as nonchalant as if I were discussing the weather.

Julian's hand froze in midair. This was not the me he knew.

The me he knew would burrow into his arms during a thunderstorm, crying that she was scared; would sit on the sofa waiting with reddened eyes if he was even half an hour late; and would hold out her finger before him over the tiniest scratch, waiting for him to blow on it tenderly before applying a Band-Aid.

But right now, beads of sweat lined my forehead from the pain and my lips were pale, yet I didn't even let out a whimper.

Julian opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by voices approaching from down the corridor.

"Director Sterling is so attentive to that Ms. Quinn in the VIP ward... It was just an appendectomy, yet not only did he perform the surgery himself, he rounds on her every day and stays for hours."

"I heard Ms. Quinn is his mentor's daughter, and that they used to date?"

"No wonder Director Sterling treats her so differently. It's already eleven at night, and he just went upstairs to see her again, right?"

The voices drifted away with their footsteps, leaving an abrupt silence in their wake.

Julian's expression shifted slightly.

"Don't mind that gossip," he said, looking at me almost instinctively. "Chloe is my mentor's daughter. Before he passed away, he entrusted me to take care of her. She has no family or relatives in this city. As a doctor, it's my duty to look out for her a bit more."

"Okay."

I responded softly, offering nothing more.

My reaction made Julian inexplicably irritated. "You don't believe me?"

"I believe you." I finally turned to look at him, my eyes calm like a windless lake. "You've always been a responsible doctor. It's only right to take care of your patients."

Julian froze, suddenly at a loss for words.

In the past, he had always grown annoyed by my insecurities and explained impatiently, "Chloe and I are in the past. Now I only see her as my mentor's daughter. Can you stop being so sensitive?"

Now, I had finally become what he wanted—no longer sensitive, no longer questioning.

Yet Julian felt as if a wad of cotton was lodged in his chest, suffocating and unsettling.

Something was wrong... This didn't feel right.

His brow knitted tighter and tighter. Just as he was about to speak, a soft, muffled thud came from outside the door.

Chloe Quinn stood in the doorway, steadying herself on an IV pole. Her face was as pale as paper, and the hem of her hospital gown was stained red with blood backflow in the IV line.

"Julian..." She bit her lip, her voice weak. "I heard from the nurse that Ms. Brooks was hospitalized too..."

"Why are you out of bed?" Julian rushed over to support her, his reproachful tone laced with deep concern. "Didn't I tell you that you must stay in bed and rest?"

Chloe leaned weakly against his chest. "I was worried about Ms. Brooks. I wanted to come and check on her..."

Julian sighed helplessly, scooped Chloe up in his arms, and turned to me. "I'll take her back to her room first. I'll be right back to stay with you."

The sight of his back as he carried Chloe away was swallowed by the bright white lights at the end of the corridor.

I slowly retracted my gaze, looked down at the needle on the back of my hand, and recalled the unsent draft on his Moments.

The caption had read:

[Staying by your side feels like going back to how we used to be.]

At that moment, I realized as if waking from a dream that deep inside, Julian had never truly moved on from Chloe.

Swallowing the sharp ache in my heart, I picked up my phone and opened the unread email.

I typed a reply.

[I have carefully reviewed the email and am willing to accept the three-year African ecological photography expedition. Wendy Brooks.]