Chapter 1

The day I finalized my divorce from Jonah Wren, I got a call from the hospital.

The doctor apologized and told me they had mixed up my test results yesterday.

The report for late-stage heart failure was actually mine.

"So, Mrs. Wren," the doctor said, "please come to the hospital again with your husband, just like yesterday."

I stood outside City Hall, watching Jonah hurry to his car and slam the door, as if avoiding a plague.

My husband?

But I was already divorced.

*****

On the way to get a divorce from Jonah Wren, I suddenly coughed up blood.

I was stunned as the blood streaked across the tissue, and so was he.

The car stopped on the side of the road. Jonah turned to look at me with a strange look.

It was more like worry than concern.

Jonah was worried that I would go back on my word and not get the divorce that I had finally agreed to.

The car was silent for a long time.

I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth with a tissue, and when I looked up, I saw Jonah frowning.

Outside the car window, the heavy rain had just cleared, and the sun shone through with a misty light.

After all these years, the guy in front of me was still as handsome as ever.

My heart skipped a beat, and I looked away.

Jonah couldn't hide the impatience on his face.

However, his upbringing and manners led him to take me to the hospital first.

On the way, Jonah made a phone call.

His tone was unusually gentle. "I'll be delayed a bit longer and will come over in the afternoon."

I turned my head to look out the window, pretending not to hear and not to know who was on the other end.

I suddenly remembered that there was a heavy rainstorm in Keimdoen this morning, with visibility less than 30 feet.

Jonah managed to drive to the building to wait for me before eight o'clock.

Probably, he was in a hurry to complete the procedures and go there.

I crumpled the blood-stained tissue in my palm, feeling a slight pain between my fingers.

After seven years of marriage, the only thing that would make him rush to see me was divorce.

At the hospital, I showed the blood-stained tissue to the doctor.

The doctor asked many questions and prescribed a thick stack of test orders.

I paid the fees, queued up, and did the tests.

After noon, the results still weren't available.

Jonah checked his phone frequently, his expression worsening.

He went to the lab several times until he received a response.

The doctor needed to rest at noon, and the results wouldn't be available until around 4 PM.

When his phone rang again, I said calmly, "Why don't you go first? We can go to the City Hall tomorrow."

Jonah seemed relieved.

After hesitating out of politeness, he nodded and said, "Call me if anything comes up."

Jonah quickly walked into the elevator, took out his phone, and held it to his ear.

His gentle, rambling voice faded in and out of my ears, gradually growing distant.

I watched his back.

Unsurprisingly, he didn't look back.

I sat alone on the hallway seat and waited.

I suddenly had chest pains in the middle of the night last night and vomited stomach acid several times, so I couldn't sleep all night.

Now that I sat here, the surroundings were terribly noisy, but a heavy sense of drowsiness was coming over me.

I closed my eyes, trying to take a nap, and unknowingly fell into a deep sleep.

I didn't know how long I slept in a daze, but when I woke up, it seemed a little darker outside the window.

Someone passed by me, and I smelled the aroma of the guy's lunch.

I took out my phone and glanced at it, and it was already after 5 PM.

I heard a girl crying, suppressed, helpless, and very sad to hear.

When I looked up, I saw a girl squatting and curling up in the corner of the wall not far from me.

She looked to be in her twenties, sobbing constantly, and looked very pitiful.

There were too many pitiful people in the hospital, and there was crying every day.

I was not doing well, and I didn't think I was suitable to comfort others.

I got up and wanted to leave.

But the girl seemed to be crying to the point of exhaustion, and a checkup form she was holding in her hand fell to the ground.

Silently, it floated to my feet.

I lowered my eyes and saw the diagnosis result of late-stage left heart failure on it.

I glanced at the patient's name, Ella, and couldn't help but freeze.

She was so young, yet afflicted with such an incurable disease.

I couldn't help but feel some sympathy.

I even thought that perhaps the name Ella inherently carried misfortune.

I opened my bag, took out a tissue, and walked over to hand it to her. "Wipe your face."

In the end, I was not good at saying comforting words.

The girl looked up, her face full of tears in despair.

"Thanks." She took my tissue, and her tearful voice was almost inaudible.

Before I could speak again, someone suddenly rushed up from behind.

She was so fast that she bumped into my shoulder.

It was a woman in her fifties.

In the dead of winter, the snow on her coat hadn't melted yet, but her forehead was covered in sweat.

Clearly, she had rushed from outside the hospital in anxiety.

She lunged forward, her eyes red, and hugged the girl in front of me tightly. "Sweetheart, my poor sweetheart—"

"Don't be afraid. I'm here. I will give you my heart," she added.

The girl's suppressed sobs immediately turned into terrified cries. "Mom, I'm scared. I don't want to die."

I looked at them and suddenly remembered that many years ago, my mom also called me sweetheart.

She was from the South, and she had been in Keimdoen with my dad for many years, but some of her accent still hadn't changed.

She died when I was eight years old.

No one ever called me sweetheart again.

My eyes were a little sore, so I turned my gaze away.

I saw the elevator doors open in the distance, and several people rushed out.

There were men in suits and shoes, gray-haired old women, young people, and middle-aged people.

Six or seven people swarmed out, their faces full of anxiety, and hurried there.

In the blink of an eye, the girl who had been squatting in the corner crying just a few minutes before was surrounded by a crowd.

Comforting, crying, brainstorming ideas, all kinds of voices mixed together.

I squatted down and picked up the bag that had been knocked to the ground.

I turned around to get my examination report.

It was not a big deal. The doctor prescribed some medicine and let me leave.

I walked out of the clinic building. It had cleared up in the morning, but now it was dark again, and it started to snow.

How strange.

I wrapped my coat tighter and put my bag over my head to block the snow, then went to the street to get a taxi.

No one was waiting for me, and no one would come to pick me up.

That night, I had a dream. I dreamed about the girl crying and being surrounded by a crowd in the hospital.

I woke up from the dream and could only see the night.

I thought I might really be crazy.

In that instant, I suddenly felt a little envious of the girl with the terminal illness.

The sky was just beginning to light up when Jonah called me.

He said, "I'm downstairs."

I was stunned for a moment before I remembered that the divorce proceedings had been moved to today.