Chapter 1

That year we broke up, Ethan stood on the hospital rooftop, his eyes bloodshot from exhaustion.

He grabbed my hand, refusing to let go.

"If you break up with me, I’ll jump right off this ledge."

Five years later, my younger sister fell critically ill, and Ethan became the only surgeon confident enough to perform the operation.

He stood on that same rooftop, his white coat pressed against his body by the wind, his gaze devoid of any warmth.

"Don't try to force my hand with your life again."

"After all, when I begged you back then, you didn't look back either, did you?"

...

The wind on the rooftop was biting.

It made my eyes sting and my throat parched.

To be honest, I had anticipated that Ethan wouldn't agree easily.

But I hadn't expected him to throw my own words from five years ago back at me, word for word.

Five years ago, we were seniors in college.

My indecent photos were posted on major campus forums; the poses were unsightly, and the titles were filthy.

At that time, Ethan was interning at this very hospital.

He was standing on this same rooftop, eyes red as he questioned me.

"Is the person in those photos AI-generated, right?"

"Just give me an explanation, and I'll believe you."

I didn't explain.

I only shook his hand off, my voice sounding cold and unfamiliar even to myself: "Ethan, stop lying to yourself. I just don't love you anymore. Does it matter if the photos are real or fake?"

The color drained from his face little by little.

The strength with which he gripped my wrist made my bones ache, yet his voice trembled.

"You can't treat me like this..."

"We promised to visit my parents after graduation, promised to see the Northern Lights, promised to stay in the city together."

"You can't just throw me away here because of a single 'I don't love you'."

That day, he really stood at the edge of the roof.

Half a step further, and it would be the concrete ground below.

"If you really want to break up with me, I’ll jump."

And I stood at the door, watching him, without saying a single word to ask him to stay.

I turned and walked away.

At that time, I thought that as long as I was ruthless enough, Ethan would hate me.

If he hated me, he wouldn't be dragged down by me again.

But things in this world never go the way I expect them to.

Now, the retribution has fallen upon me.

I gripped the medical record folder tightly, the edge of the paper digging into my palm, the pain sharp and clear.

Ethan glanced down at my hand.

He quickly shifted his gaze away: "You said earlier that as long as I agreed to the surgery, you’d do anything?"

His tone was level, showing neither joy nor anger.

"You’re the same as before—your words sound beautiful, but in the end, you can’t do a single thing."

My knuckles turned white, and I creased the record folder.

I had indeed promised Ethan many things.

I promised him I would meet his parents after graduation.

I only learned later that his mother was a prominent figure in the upper circles, and the family would never let him marry the daughter of an ex-convict.

I promised him we would go to the Arctic to see the Northern Lights together.

Later, my father died, my sister was diagnosed with a critical illness, and the hospital bills piled up one after another.

I promised him that no matter what happened, I would never lie to him.

But after that photo scandal five years ago, I accepted the money the family deposited into the hospital account.

That money saved my sister's life, and it also bought out my relationship with Ethan.

I didn't explain, nor could I.

I simply accepted all the mud thrown at me, letting him hate me—the deeper, the better.

These past few years, the only thing I haven't broken is that I never liked anyone else.

But saying that now carries no meaning.

I lifted my head to look at him: "I didn't come here today to beg for your forgiveness, Ethan."

"My sister is fourteen years old. You’ve seen her medical reports; other hospitals are afraid to take the case."

"If you are willing to lead the surgery, I will sign the papers and take all the risks."

"If you aren't, I just want to ask you for the truth: is there any other path for her?"

Ethan’s brows furrowed slightly.

The wind passed between us, lifting the corner of his white coat.

He tucked his hands into his pockets: "You’ve certainly learned to be reasonable now."

My throat tightened: "I wanted to be reasonable before, too, but no one ever gave me the chance."

His gaze fell onto my face abruptly, a heavy look as if the fire buried for five years had finally pried open a crack.

But quickly, he returned to his cold, distant demeanor.

"Don't paint yourself as the victim, Clara."

"You were the one who ended it, and you were the one who took the money. I didn't hold a knife to your throat and force you to leave."

My fingertips went numb; I had no way to refute that.

Because everything he knew to be true was, in fact, true.

Just then, the door to the rooftop was pushed open from the outside.

The hinges let out an old, creaking sound.

A young doctor poked his head in, holding a consultation form.

"Dr. Ethan, the Chief is looking for you."

He finished, then saw me and paused, his voice softening slightly.

"Also, Ms. Lin is waiting for you downstairs. She said the bridal gown boutique is pressing for a final fitting."

Bridal gown.

As those words fell, my fingers loosened, and the record folder nearly slid from my palm.

Ethan didn't look at me, taking the form with a flat tone.

"Understood."

The young doctor quickly backed out.

The door closed again, leaving only the sound of the wind on the rooftop. I lowered my eyes, clutching the record folder tightly again.

He is getting married.

That makes sense; he is almost thirty.

A man like him should have a respectable, clean, and well-matched fiancée.

Chapter 2

Ethan walked past me. When our shoulders brushed, he paused, and I smelled the faint scent of disinfectant on him.

It was just like five years ago, only back then, being near him made me feel at ease.

"Leave the records. I’m only here to treat the patient, not to reminisce."

With that, he pushed the door open and left.

I stood on the rooftop for a long time, until my limbs were stiff with cold, before heading downstairs with the records.

When I returned to the ward, my sister was lying in bed.

She had lost so much weight.

At fourteen, her arms were thin enough that only bone remained. Seeing me enter, her eyes flickered.

"Sister."

I walked over and tucked the quilt around her.

She stared at my face and asked in a low voice: "That doctor, he’s your ex-boyfriend, isn't he?"

My hands stopped mid-movement. She bit her dry, cracked lips: "I heard the nurses talking."

"Sister, I don't want to make things difficult for you. How about we stop the treatment? Would that be okay?"

It felt as if my heart had been grabbed by someone, the pain making it hard to even speak, yet I still stroked her hair.

Her hair was soft, and with a single touch of my palm, I could feel the sharp ridge of bone beneath her scalp.

"What nonsense are you talking about? He’s just an old friend of mine."

"He used to like me a lot, very clingy, couldn't get rid of him even if I tried."

Her eyes turned red.

I leaned down, wiping away the wetness at the corner of her eyes: "So he won't ignore you. You’re going to be just fine."

Footsteps sounded at the door of the ward, and my fingers stiffened.

The next second, Ethan’s voice rang out from behind me.

"Don't lie to the kid using me."

I slowly turned around. Ethan stood at the door, holding her test reports.

He looked at me, his eyes devoid of any warmth.

"I’ve looked at the scans. The surgery can be done, but the risks are very high."

She immediately closed her mouth, watching him nervously, and I straightened up.

Ethan’s gaze swept across my face and quickly returned to the report.

"Tomorrow morning at eight, bring her for the pre-op assessment."

"As for whether she can make it onto the operating table, we’ll decide after the results."

He didn't give me a chance to thank him, placing the report on the bedside table with a cold face.

"And, stop saying those things to her."

My fingers curled tight, but I said nothing. Ethan glanced at me, his eyes indifferent.