Chapter 3
Out of sheer spite, I really did buy a ticket and flew to Sincbear. By the time I arrived, it was already past midnight.
On the plane, all I could think about was confronting Christopher face-to-face, demanding to know why he cheated. We had been together for five years, yet now he was pouring all his attention into Vivian.
If luck—or misfortune—had it, maybe I would even catch them in some intimate moment.
I mocked myself, imagining Christopher's expression when he saw me standing there.
But the moment I set foot in Sincbear, the same uneasiness I had felt when I first left my poor hometown for the city came flooding back.
I had revolved around Christopher for far too long. I had gotten used to having him by my side whenever I faced something unfamiliar.
I sighed and finally dialed his number, but he didn't pick up.
When I got into a cab, the unexpected happened.
As the driver pulled onto the road, I caught a faint whiff of alcohol.
My chest tightened. The realization hit me—he was drunk driving.
"Stop the car," I ordered in Yianrish.
But it was too late. The car slammed straight into a roadside pole.
Pain tore through me so sharply it felt like my organs had been knocked out of place. Gritting my teeth, I turned to look at the driver. He was already unconscious.
I didn't understand Sincbearan, so I had no choice but to call Christopher.
This time, the phone rang for a long while before he finally answered.
The silence on the other end sounded deliberate, forced.
I opened my mouth. "Hello, Christopher—"
He cut me off. "Rachel, do you even know what time it is? We're in different time zones. Don't you realize that? Whatever it is, wait until I get back. It's just one Valentine's Day. Don't make a fuss. I remember you used to be less clingy."
And then he hung up. The plea for help died in my throat.
When I finally couldn't hold on any longer and slipped into unconsciousness, I vaguely heard a voice.
When I came to, I was staring at a white ceiling.
Every part of my body ached, and there was something tugging at my hand.
Turning my head, I saw an IV needle taped to the back of it.
"Don't move," a voice said.
I looked over and saw a handsome man with sharp, defined features, his bone structure almost sculpted. His looks betrayed mixed blood.
He seemed oddly familiar, as if I had seen him somewhere before.
Weakly, I asked, "You brought me here?"
"I happened to pass by and noticed you looked Zorisian. So I helped," he said.
I thanked him softly.
But he studied me intently, then muttered something strange. "Yes, this feels right."
"What?" I frowned, puzzled.
He didn't answer, as if in a rush to leave.
On his way out, he said, "I charged your phone. I texted the number you called the most—it seems important to you."
I pulled out my phone. He really had texted Christopher, sending him the hospital address with a simple line: [I'm at the hospital.]
But Christopher still didn't reply.
Maybe he was too busy taking care of Vivian to bother with me.
I stayed in bed a while before pulling out the IV. I meant to get a glass of water, but ran into a woman around the corner.
We made eye contact, and she was the first to register what had happened.
I hadn't expected to run into Vivian here.
She leaned on a cane but still looked elegant. "Rachel, what are you doing in Sincbear?" she asked.
"I'm here to see Christopher," I said, watching her warily.
She glanced at me, a smile playing at her lips—smile, yes, but not a friendly one.
It made her seem composed and generous, while I felt small and desperate to assert that I was Christopher's girlfriend.