Chapter 6

When I next opened my eyes from the cold operating table, no one else was around.

I struggled to push myself up, but stumbled and fell after only two steps.

Perhaps my light was truly fading, I thought.

It was a shame, I still had so many things I wanted to do.

Just as I thought I would die there, I saw a pair of polished shoes step into my shadow.

I expected it to be Julian, returned, but when I looked up, I saw an unexpected face.

His face was as handsome as ever, but his eyes now held a mature sharpness, and he looked at me as if I were a pile of hopeless trash.

He leaned down slightly, a familiar, cutting sneer gracing his lips.

"Clara, ten years, and this is how you've ended up? What a pathetic mess, all for a man."

It was Asher.

My rival during university-no, throughout my entire academic career.

A man also hailed as a genius, who constantly clashed with me, finding joy in making me uncomfortable.

I tugged at the corner of my mouth, wanting to retort, but only a gurgling, bloody cough escaped my throat.

Asher's brow furrowed fiercely. He stopped wasting words.

He abruptly took off his expensive cashmere coat, wrapped it around me, and lifted me into his arms.

His movements were devoid of gentleness, even a little rough.

But his embrace was the only warmth I had felt in ten years.

I weakly leaned against his chest, my consciousness fading, as I heard him coldly instruct his assistant.

"Put out a notice. We're taking on a new patient."

Then, he lowered his head, his voice just loud enough for me to hear.

"Remember this. From now on, your primary doctor is me, Asher."