Chapter 4

I didn't wait for Janice's response. I turned and merged into the crowd on campus.

For a split second, a sudden void washed over Janice—as if a long-standing pillar of her life had vanished. The last time she'd felt this way was when Ethan had signed the divorce papers without hesitation.

Looking back on his behavior these days, the lingering unease in her chest grew clearer. He was far too calm—like a detached observer watching a scene unfold.

Yet not long ago, Ethan would still complain in the late-night lab, his tone helpless yet indulgent. "Professor Woods, is your next project proposal really more important than our wedding anniversary?"

She'd expected Ethan to object fiercely when she proposed this stopgap measure. She'd even prepared more explanations and reassurances. But he hadn't. He'd just accepted it calmly and signed his name.

In that moment, she'd even wished he'd torn up the agreement and argued with her. Then she might have had a reason to cast aside all hesitation and try to fix their relationship.

She comforted herself that Ethan knew how fragile academic reputations were. This was only temporary. Once the storm passed, she would make it up to him, and their collaboration would go back to how it was.

But Kevin couldn't wait. She couldn't let his fledgling academic career be stained with scandal.

Years ago, when she'd fallen into the water, Lily had jumped in without hesitation to save her. Lily had given her a second life.

The two siblings had been orphans, relying on each other since childhood. She had to take good care of Kevin for Lily's sake. She wasn't wrong.

Michael had once asked her, "If one day, Ethan and Kevin were both in danger and you could only save one, who would you choose?"

Back then, she'd thought the question was meaningless and cruel. She would choose to save Kevin. But she would be willing to die with Ethan.

Michael had smiled bitterly at her answer. "How can you be sure Ethan doesn't want to live? You can't keep putting him second just because he's always been forgiving. Even the deepest trust can be exhausted."

She hadn't taken those words seriously at the time. Deep down, she'd assumed Ethan would always understand her and always be there for her.

Never had she imagined that her casual dismissal of his feelings back then would come back like a bullet, striking her right in the heart.

Late at night, Janice drove back to the collaborative apartment near the university.

Ever since she and I had married, I'd moved most of my research to the private workspace attached to the apartment—it was quiet, perfect for research and writing.

In my early career, I had gained attention in academic circles for several groundbreaking theoretical models. His advisor had praised him for his rare ability to blend intuition with logic. Many had expected me to pioneer new research directions—and I had.

But after I deepened my collaboration with Janice and married her, my work had gradually lost that ferocious creativity, replaced by more methodical rigor.

A senior colleague who cared about me had once gently warned, "Ethan, what first drew me to you was your passion and creativity. Don't let collaborative projects sweep you away and make you lose your own path."

After that, I'd published fewer and fewer articles under my own name.

Janice pushed open the door to my workspace. When she saw the handwritten draft spread out on the desk, her breath caught.

It was an outline for a long essay on academic trust and dissipation. The paper was covered in dense revisions, angry scratches, and even a few holes where the pen had pierced the paper.

Cathy May, the apartment manager, came to check the electrical wiring early in the morning. When she turned on the light, she found Janice standing frozen by the desk. "Professor Woods? Why are you here so early?"

Janice pointed at the draft. "When... when did he write this?"

"The night you brought your students here to discuss the project," Cathy replied. "Professor Lincoln stayed here alone for a long time."

Janice nodded slightly and walked out of the workspace. Her face remained calm, but something solid in her heart was shattering.

She told herself repeatedly that Ethan's words were just angry outbursts and temporary emotions. Riverdale was not a place for extraordinary academic achievements. Ethan couldn't really give up everything here, including her?.

It wasn't until there was a knock on the door that she realized she'd returned to the master bedroom, staring blankly at the photo on the wall—taken after an international summit, the two of them smiling together.

"Janice, are you okay?" Kevin said tentatively from outside,.

"What are you doing here?" Janice opened the door.

Kevin looked pale, wearing only a thin shirt. He murmured, "I was worried about you. Did I cause you more trouble again?"

"It's fine. It's just late," Janice said, rubbing her forehead. "I'll ask Cathy to tidy up the guest room. You can stay here tonight."

She turned to go find Cathy, but Kevin gently pulled her sleeve. His eyes flickered with dependency. "Janice, can you stay and talk to me a little longer?"

Janice had wanted to refuse. But when she met his eyes—so similar to Lily's, filled with pleading—she swallowed her words. After a moment of silence, she nodded.