Chapter 4

Dr. Lucia Sterling was taken aback. "Are you sure? This isn't something you decide casually."

I smiled. "What's there to hesitate about?" 'If I can't have a proper burial, I might as well make myself useful. At least it brings closure to my time as a military doctor.'

I picked up the pen, carefully filled out every detail, and handed it to her solemnly. "I'm counting on you."

She gripped the consent form, her voice hoarse. "Alright. The institute is starting the first batch of donor sample archiving this week. Your case is a rare type, so the project lead will personally oversee the archiving."

"Who is it?" I asked casually.

"General Grant, commander of the Coastal Defense Fleet and the project lead," she replied.

My heart skipped a beat at the name.

Turns out he's not only a military commander but he's also the head of the Coastal Defense Medical Research Project for the entire army.

No wonder he was always hanging around the Pathology Department back then, his hands always carrying the scent of disinfectant.

After hesitating for a few seconds, I told her, "Keep my identity under wraps for me. Don't let him know it's me."

As I stepped out of the outpatient building, I ran right into Andrew.

I didn't look at him as we passed, but he called out, "Claire."

He walked up to me, his gaze landing on my pale face. "Are you feeling any better?"

"I'm fine. What are you doing here?" I asked.

"Headquarters transferred me back to lead the project, so I'll be stationed at the Pathology Department of the Central Medical Center from now on," he said, his eyes unreadable.

"What about you? When did you leave the medical team?"

I gave him a half-truth. "My dad got sick and needed someone to look after him. It was too much, so I decided to quit."

He studied me for a while. "You've much skinnier than before."

I muttered something, not really wanting to keep the conversation going, and walked out of the hospital.

He pulled up beside me in his car. "Let me give you a ride home. I'll check out the place and we can sign the contract while we're at it."

I hesitated for a few seconds, then opened the car door and got in.

As soon as I got in, I caught a faint whiff of that sweet floral scent I loved most. That was my favorite scent.

On the dashboard hung a handwoven anchor knot which I'd made for our second wedding anniversary, with his officer's ID number embroidered on it.

A pang of heartache welled up in my chest, and I asked in a hoarse voice, "Why do you still keep that knot?"

He kept his eyes on the road, sounding almost casual. "Emily really liked it, so I kept it."

Sounds like it was no big deal, as if it meant nothing to him.

I turned away, staring out the window as the coastline rushed by in a blur, and stayed silent.

Half an hour later, we arrived at Seaview Residence.

Andrew paused at the doorway, caught off guard by the memories flooding back.

The place was just like it was seven years ago. Our wedding photo still hung on the living room wall, the floor-to-ceiling window still had a half-peeled red wedding sticker clinging to the glass, and two pairs of matching slippers sat by the entrance.

Everything in this apartment was proof that we were so close to spending a lifetime together.

"Nothing's changed here," he said in a low voice.

I nervously twisted my fingers. "I kept everything the same, thinking you'd come back someday. Don't worry, I'll make sure everything's cleared out before I move."

He snapped out of it and looked at me. "We can sign the contract whenever you find a new place. No rush."

"I can move out anytime," I said, my voice steady. "I'm not looking for a new place. And I'm planning to leave for good."

He couldn't help but ask, "Where are you going?"

"Somewhere far away," I replied.

And never coming back.