Chapter 2

After the freshman welcome party, I grew busier than I'd been in my junior year.

I'd already settled on my graduate school for the postgraduate recommendation, but I still had to reach out to my graduate advisor and assist my undergraduate mentor, Rick Vance, with the experiment.

I spent every day holed up in the lab, with no energy left to dwell on the incident that had made me mad at Ryan.

Occasionally, whispers would drift to my ears. People were all gossiping about how the freshman class beauty was chasing the genius Ryan.

Then Helen's call came out of the blue. "Emily, why has Ryan been so distracted lately? He hasn't come home this late before, and he didn't take his medicine with him. I'm terrified he'll have an episode. Can you please bring his medicine to him?"

I immediately realized how serious this was.

After reassuring Helen a little, I grabbed my bag and rushed to the school's art studio. But when I arrived, Ryan's easel stood empty.

The students in the studio spotted me and joked, "Aren't you Ryan's little girlfriend? What's up? Come to check on him?"

"He's barely been coming to the studio lately. You're definitely in the wrong place," said another student.

My heart sank, and a sense of unease spread through me. Ryan was supposed to be working on his entry for the international painting competition in two weeks. For him to skip the practice at a time like this was totally out of character.

Following a tip from Ryan's roommate, I finally tracked him down at a bar off campus.

The moment I stepped through the bar's door, the clinking of glasses and deafening chatter made my head throb. I couldn't believe Ryan, who hated loud noises so much, would ever set foot in a place like this.

Inside the private booth, the lights were dim, and the atmosphere was flirty. Claire was leaning close to Ryan, her face nearly touching his.

I watched as Claire's fingers traced the bridge of his nose, and she whispered something in his ear.

Ryan's eyelashes fluttered, and the tips of his ears turned bright red. However, unlike how he usually pushed away anyone who got too close, he didn't move to shove her off.

The two of them were clearly the center of attention, and everyone in the booth started hooting and laughing.

The previously quiet live stream comments erupted in an instant.

Netizen A: [This is so sweet. Ryan can't resist our sassy Claire at all.]

Netizen B: [This girl's such a flirt. Watching this is making me blush.]

Netizen C: [Taking notes. Next time I'm gonna ask my crush what a big nose means.]

I knocked on the open door of the private booth, my voice loud enough to cut through the noise inside. When Ryan looked up and noticed me standing at the door, the blush on the tips of his ears hadn't faded yet.

Claire, who was beside him, raised an eyebrow, pushed Ryan lightly, and said, "Ryan, Emily's worried about you. She even chased you all the way here. Should you head home with her early?"

"Ryan, are you still being controlled by someone in your twenties?" said another man.

The others in the booth burst into laughter, cackling uncontrollably.

Someone whistled and teased, "Ryan, didn't expect you to be such a good boy. Is Mommy here to call you home?"

Ryan glared at me silently, clearly not happy about my arrival.

Claire looked at me like a winner and said, "Emily, it seems Ryan would rather stay here and play with me right now."

The live stream comments were filled with mocking remarks.

Netizen A: [Did Emily really think showing up to claim ownership would work? So funny. She just made a fool of herself.]

Netizen B: [It's useless. No matter how hard she competes, she'll only push Ryan and Claire closer.]

I closed my eyes for a moment, then pulled the medicine out of my bag and threw it hard into Ryan's arms.

Claire snatched the medicine from Ryan, held it up under the light, and read aloud, "Risperidone? What kind of medicine is this?"

Ryan froze for a second, then quickly bowed his head to check his schoolbag. After a moment, when he looked up at me again, his eyes darted away, avoiding my gaze.

If he didn't take Risperidone on time, he'd have severe self-harm tendencies.

Years ago, when Helen had to go back to her hometown for something, Ryan had an episode and couldn't find his medicine.

When I opened the door to his house, I saw Ryan sitting in the bathroom with a blank expression, waving a small knife. He seemed completely unaware of the pain, slashing at the flesh that didn't belong to him.

There was barely an uninjured patch of skin on his thighs and arms, and the tiled floor was covered with patterns of blood.

Seeing that he was about to cut an artery, I was so scared that I pounced on him and grabbed the knife with both hands. The knife wound on my palm left an indelible scar, which always reminded me of that day.

Since then, I've kept a box of Risperidone in my bag at all times. And Ryan knew that better than anyone.