Chapter 1

Ever since I saw that unsent Instagram draft on River's phone, I changed completely.

When he worked night shifts, I stopped waiting up.

When his clothes carried unfamiliar perfume, I stopped asking questions.

When he explained that running into his first love was just a coincidence, I said flatly, "I believe you."

In the car accident, he instinctively shielded Clara in the passenger seat. I was in the back, my face covered in blood from the impact.

At the gallery, he threw himself toward Clara without a second thought. I stood there, cut by shattered glass, no one caring.

At the fire scene, he rushed in recklessly to save her. I stood outside and took off the engagement ring he'd just placed on my finger.

I left a breakup note on the coffee table, flew to Africa, and disappeared into the crowd.

Three months later, he tracked me down to the savannah like a madman, his eyes red. "Winona, you're the one I actually love."

I looked at him and smiled. "River, I don't care anymore."

Winona's POV

Ever since I saw that unsent Instagram draft on River's phone, I became a completely different person.

When he worked night shifts until dawn, there was no longer a light waiting for him at home.

When he spent over ten hours straight in the operating room, I stopped texting to ask if he was tired.

When his shirts occasionally carried traces of unfamiliar perfume, I stopped asking about it.

Even when acute gastroenteritis struck me in the middle of the night and I dragged myself to the ER alone, when the nurse quietly asked, "No family member with you?"

I simply said, "I don't have any family."

The nurse looked down at her computer, then glanced at me again. "You're... the director's girlfriend, right? I saw you at the hospital gala last time. The director is working the night shift tonight, just upstairs. Should I call him?"

River was the youngest director this hospital had ever had. I hadn't expected to be recognized.

"No need," I closed my eyes. "Don't disturb him at work."

The nurse seemed like she wanted to say something but ultimately just arranged for me to stay in the observation room.

Half an hour later, the observation room door swung open.

River walked in wearing his crisp white coat, his palm habitually pressing against my forehead, his brow furrowing slightly. "Why didn't you just call me when you got sick?"

His palm was warm, with that familiar touch.

In the past, even with just a mild headache, that warmth would have been enough to help me sleep peacefully.

I turned my head away, avoiding his touch. "It's just acute gastroenteritis. Some IV fluids and I'll be fine. It's not a big deal."

River's hand froze in midair.

He wanted to say something, but conversation from the hallway interrupted him, growing closer.

"The director really cares about that Miss Clara in the VIP room... It's just an appendectomy, but he personally performed the surgery, and he visits her every single day after, staying for ages."

"I heard that Miss Clara is the director's professor's daughter, and they used to date?"

"No wonder the director treats her so specially. It's already eleven at night, and didn't the director just go up to see her again?"

The voices faded with the footsteps, leaving an awkward silence.

River's expression changed.

"Don't pay attention to that gossip," he said, almost reflexively. "Clara is my professor's daughter. Before he died, he asked me to look after her. She has no family in this city. As her doctor, it's my responsibility to take extra care of her."

"Mm."

I acknowledged with a sound and said nothing more.

This response somehow irritated River. "You don't believe me?"

"I believe you." I turned to look at him. "You've always been a responsible doctor. It's right to take care of your patients."

River froze, suddenly at a loss for words.

In the past, he always found my insecurity annoying and would explain impatiently, "Clara and I are ancient history. Now I only see her as my professor's daughter. Can you stop being so sensitive?"

Now I'd finally become what he wanted-not sensitive, not questioning, not angry.

His frown deepened. He was about to speak when a soft thud came from outside the door.

Clara stood in the doorway, leaning on an IV pole, her face pale as paper, the hem of her hospital gown stained with red from blood backing up into the IV line.

"River..." She bit her lip, her voice weak. "I heard from the nurse that Miss Winona was hospitalized too..."

"Why are you out of bed?" River rushed over to support her, his tone both reproachful and concerned. "Didn't I tell you that you must stay in bed and rest?"

Clara leaned weakly against him. "I was worried about Miss Winona. I wanted to come see her..."

River sighed helplessly, scooped Clara up in his arms, and said to me over his shoulder, "I'll take her back to her room first. I'll be right back to stay with you."

His silhouette carrying Clara disappeared into the white light at the end of the hallway.

I stared at the needle in the back of my hand, remembering River's unsent Instagram post.

The caption read: "Being by your side feels like going back to the past."

In that moment, I woke up as if from a dream. I finally understood. Deep in River's heart, he had never truly let go of Clara.

I suppressed the sharp pain in my chest, picked up my phone, and opened the unread email.

I replied, "I have carefully read the email and am willing to accept this three-year photography expedition to Africa."