"It's raining so hard; didn't I tell you to wait for me downstairs?"

"Stay here and be good, I’ll go get the car. You have a cold; you can't be out in the wind."

After saying this, he turned to go get the car, and Ash was called away by his wife.

Elena and I looked at each other through the screen of rain.

She held his flowers, while the second half of my sentence hung in the rain, unheard.

The moment Elena saw me, she froze: "Clara? What are you doing here?"

Her expression changed—not into hostility, but into the ease unique to a winner.

She slowly raised her right hand; the star-and-moon diamond ring on her ring finger looked particularly striking against the rain.

It was the one I had told him about.

"If you’ve come to rekindle things with Ethan, you might be disappointed."

"Ethan proposed to me at Jay Chou’s concert. When 'Confession Balloon' started playing, he put a veil on my head and knelt on one knee."

She smiled at me, her tone gentle but every word cutting like a blade: "Ethan is such a straightforward man. Those little things to make a girl happy? You taught him those. I really have to thank you."

Yes, I taught him all of it.

I said stars and moons should always be together, so I wanted a star-and-moon ring.

I said I wanted a bouquet of tulips for photos, as they represent the purest love.

It was also me who said I wanted a concert proposal, preferably to Jay Chou’s 'Confession Balloon'.

I withdrew my gaze from the ring and swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat: "No need to thank me."

I paused, my tone flat: "The person who ends up enjoying the cool shade isn't necessarily you."

With that, I turned to leave.

Elena laughed behind me, her light voice chasing after me.

"Even if he doesn't end up with me, he would never be with a woman like you—a woman who was slept with by his own father."

The rain was thin as needles, piercing into my skin one by one.

I remembered that day. Elena had called, her voice slurred with drunkenness, telling me she couldn't get home and asking me to pick her up.

I went, and I drank the glass of water she handed me.

Then, there was darkness. A long, endless darkness.

When I woke up, it was to the sting of a slap.

The stepmother of Ethan’s father stood before me, her hand still raised in the air.

The sheets were a crumpled mess. Ethan’s father sat on the sofa, smoking, his expression devoid of any panic.

I cried and said I was going to the police.

He flicked his ash and said: "Reporting to the police won't affect me in the slightest, but if you don't, you'll get a million."

Yes, it was only an attempt; I had no concrete evidence to kill him.

In the end, I accepted the hush money.

Sophie’s hospital bills were three months overdue, and if I didn't pay, we would be kicked out. A million could save her life.

I had hated Ethan’s father, hated why Ethan had to be his son, and hated Elena.

But I hated myself even more.

The me who shut up for money, the me who, after taking that money, no longer had the right to stand before Ethan.

The Clara who loved Ethan died that day.

Today’s rain was just a late funeral held on her behalf.

I lifted my head, and the rainwater slid through my eyelashes and into my eyes.

In my blurred vision, the streetlights on the opposite side of the road haloed into circles, and a black Maybach was parked in the center of the light.

The last four digits of the license plate were 0625—0625 was my birthday.

Then, the door opened. Elena walked over from behind me, passed by my side, and sat in the passenger seat.

I looked up in shock.

The car window rolled up slowly, like the closing of a play. Ethan turned his face and pressed his lips to hers.

The movement was light, as light as it used to be when he did that to me.

The image was cut off, inch by inch.

But I didn't lower my head. I watched him kiss her, watched the window close, and watched the twenty-year-old Ethan emerge from my memories.

The twenty-year-old him stood in the rain, looking at the bridal shop across the street.

He said to me, very earnestly.

"Clara, if we ever break up, I will never love anyone else for the rest of my life."

Chapter 5

The black Maybach soon disappeared into the curtain of rain, while I walked in the opposite direction, holding the umbrella Ash had given me.

The umbrella wasn't large, and the raindrops pelted against it, making a rhythmic pattering sound.

Half of my shoulder was soaked through very quickly, and my clothes clung to my skin, making me shiver from the cold.

When I returned to the ward, Sophie wasn't asleep yet.

I left the umbrella by the door and went to the restroom to wipe my face, afraid she would see how disheveled I looked.

After forcing out a smile, I walked over holding the millet porridge I had just bought.

She was too thin.

A fourteen-year-old child, her face was no bigger than my palm, her lips were so dry they were peeling, and her wrists were so thin they looked like they would break if bent.

"The owner gave a bit more rice today, it's thick, drink some more."

She lowered her head and drank two mouthfuls, but when the third spoonful reached her lips, she turned her head away, unable to drink any more.

"Sister."

"Hmm?"

"Have you still not let go of Dr. Ethan?"

She mumbled, trying to persuade me as if she were an adult.

"Novels always say that the person who truly loves you will always wait right where you left them."

"He's about to get married, he's not worth you being sad over him."

I laughed and tapped her head: "Read less of those love-struck novels."

"People have to keep moving forward." I covered the porridge and put it on the bedside table, "Dr. Ethan should move forward, and Sister is moving forward too."

"Nobody is wrong."

That night, because of her heart pain, Sophie didn't sleep at all.

The next day, the hospital arranged a multidisciplinary consultation.

I sat on the bench outside the conference room, unable to understand the professional terminology, and could only guess from their expressions whether Sophie still had any hope.

In the end, the response given was that surgery was possible.

She needed an artificial heart transplant, but there were risks involved.

There was a possibility she wouldn't be able to adapt to the artificial heart, or that there could be post-operative infection, or even that she might not make it off the operating table.

The doctor explained every possibility very clearly.

But this was Sophie's only chance to regain her health.

I had no choice.

When I returned to the ward, I began to be overwhelmed by the 600,000 surgical fee.

My savings in hand were no more than 30,000, my brother gave 20,000, and Ash gave 20,000.

Added together, it wasn't even enough for the fraction.

I scrolled through my contacts from top to bottom; some names had long ceased to be in touch.

Some people I had borrowed from once, and I couldn't bring myself to ask again.

Some numbers stayed on the screen, and I stared at them for a long time, but in the end, I still didn't press them.

Just then, Ash called: "Clara, there's a wealthy guy today who says he'll pay 20,000 for a single substitute drinking session, are you coming? He specifically requested you; if you do this tonight, you won't have to worry about your sister's surgery fees!"

My throat felt dry: "Requested me?"

"Yes." Ash paused, his voice dropping lower, "I also think it's strange, but the person has already paid the deposit, and the private room is booked. Clara, if you don't want to come, I'll help you turn it down."

I didn't answer immediately.

Through the small window on the ward door, I could see Sophie lying on the bed, her face pale, her chest rising and falling gently with her breathing.

She was only fourteen; she hadn't been to an amusement park yet, hadn't worn a pretty dress to take graduation photos.

She hadn't truly grown up yet.

Heaven had let Sophie suffer a lot, and now, it finally couldn't bear to erase her hope.

I closed my eyes, and when I opened them again, my voice was steady.

"I'll go."

Ash was silent for two seconds: "Then don't go on an empty stomach tonight, eat something first. Also, drink as little as possible; I'll be watching from the outside."