Chapter 1

My fiancé's female bestie, Charlize Dangler, had returned from overseas.

Unfortunately, it happened on the day that I received my medical report.

I wasn't surprised that my fiancé, Isembert, didn't accompany me to collect the report.

In fact, he didn't answer my calls or reply to my messages.

He did, however, post a wefie with Charlize in our friends' group chat.

My message telling him to call me back was lost in a flood of his other messages.

After hesitating for a while, I also texted my well-wishes to the group.

After an awkward silence, Charlize Dangler finally texted the group.

[My relationship with Isem is none of your business.]

She even tagged Isembert and added: [Placate your bitch quickly. Do I have to teach you such things?]

Isembert listened to her as always. My phone rang almost instantly.

For once, we were in perfect sync. We both started talking at the same time. "Isembert, I..."

"Claudia, do you really have to make such a big deal?

"You're an adult. What could possibly be so important that you need to call me more than ten times?" he demanded.

My fingers tightened around the phone. "I thought…you would at least care about my test results."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

Then someone said something to him in the background, and he chuckled.

"Claudia, what's this? You're not about to lie to me and tell me it's a terminal illness, are you?" he taunted.

I was taken aback. I felt as if someone had stabbed me in the chest and then twisted the blade in my wound. The pain was unbearable.

I tried to explain, "It's not a terminal illness. I called you because..."

"Got it. I'll talk to you when I'm free." With that, he abruptly ended the call.

I was at a loss as I stared at my phone screen that gradually became dark.

I wanted to tell Isembert the doctor had given me the wrong test results and said I was going to die.

I was terrified and wanted to see him.

But right now, this lucky fluke had turned into a joke that left a bad taste in my mouth.

Jojo, who had accompanied me in Isembert's absence, put the report in the bag and helped me up worriedly.

"Claudia, why are you crying? Let me know, and I'll tell Mr. Lowin and get him to stand up for you!" she declared indignantly.

Only then did I realize I was crying. As I looked at my gaunt face on the phone screen, I asked Jojo a question instead. "Is it a good thing or a bad thing that I am not going to die?"

Jojo got a shock. After a while, she exclaimed in dismay, "You must have read too many novels. Are you planning to kill yourself just to make Mr. Lowin regret it for the rest of his life?"

When I didn't respond, she held onto my hand tightly and declared adamantly, "It's not worth it!"

I only ran my fingers over the scars on my wrist silently. Of course, I was well aware it was not worth it.

The dark screen of my phone lit up multiple times as more well-wishes flooded the group chat intermittently.

Staring at my haggard reflection in my phone's screen, I couldn't help but laugh at myself.

To think that I actually regretted that I was not dying.

I even fantasized that Isembert would be devastated by my death. I was so pathetic.

I sent another message to my fiancé: [Isembert, let's break up.]

It had been six years. It was time to call it quits. Everyone said I was only clinging to Isembert for his money.

But when we were together, he had nothing but the debts left over from his family's bankruptcy.

He worked three jobs a day. But we still struggled to make ends meet.

On my twentieth birthday, there were no flowers or gifts, except for a blizzard raging outside.

Isembert and I were crammed onto a bus, passing by a light display that was playing a birthday message.

"Claudia, I..." Isembert tried to say something.

However, I stopped him by using his finger to draw a candle on the frosted bus window.

"Isem, doesn't the snow on the roof look like a big birthday cake? I'll feed you some. Then it will feel like we're having cake together!"

Isembert once told me that crying in front of someone was even more personal than kissing.

That was the only time I saw him shed tears.

A few days later, Isembert walked in holding a strawberry cake.

Sorting one ton of packages only earned him 14 bucks. But that cake set him back 186 bucks.

I looked at his blistered hands and burst into tears. "Isem, don't be so hard on yourself. I'm not worth it…"

He looked at me reproachfully as he brought the cake to my lips. "No, you're worth it, Claudia."

Later, when his career finally took off, he proposed to me under the Northern Lights. I said "Yes."

He told me, "Claudia, you're going to be the happiest woman in the world."

What happened afterward was like a nightmare. I stumbled upon his post on the forum.

The title was "Pursuing Love." The first post was from ten years ago.

[I helped a girl, but I didn't see her face clearly. I only remembered her bright eyes.]

[I was late, and she pretended not to know me. It's okay.]

[Charlize. What a beautiful name.]

*****

The day we got together, he wrote his 271st comment.

[Her eyes are very bright too. She reminds me of her.]

356th Post: [Thank goodness it wasn't her. I couldn't bear to see her suffer with me.]

There were more than a thousand posts, and they revealed to me a side of Isembert I never knew.