Summer had indeed misled him back then, but ultimately, it was his own fault. It was a good thing that she had found a new future.

Chapter 14

On the day Summer Sheng got married, the persistently rainy city of D.C. was graced with a rare sunny day.

Ethan Shaw did not attend the wedding, but he chose to take a day off.

He thought about visiting Clara Tang, but he didn’t even know where she was buried.

Three years ago, when he woke from his coma and received the news of Clara’s passing, he fell into a state of total collapse. He didn't know how to make himself believe that the person who was always warm in his memories had simply vanished. He hadn't even said an apology; she hadn't left him a single chance to beg for forgiveness.

He had gone to the Tang residence like a madman, only to be beaten by Clara’s brother, Marcus Tang.

Even now, he remembered Marcus’s words.

"Ethan Shaw, you are a piece of trash."

Marcus was a university professor; beneath his gold-rimmed glasses were eyes rimmed with red.

"Cece was the pearl of our family, raised in the palm of our hands. Do you think we didn't know how much grievance she suffered at your hands? It was only because we respected her—respected her as an adult capable of handling her own emotions."

"But we never imagined that the price would be losing her."

At the time, Ethan—who was already injured—was no match for Marcus. He stood at the bottom of the steps in a wretched state while Marcus looked down at him, saying word by word: "Don't come back. Clara Tang has nothing to do with you. She didn't in the past, and she won't in the future."

The sound of a car horn nearby snapped Ethan back to the present. He pulled himself away from the heavy memories, but a deep, inseparable sorrow remained hidden in his eyes.

He had long ago lost the ability to love; if the person wasn't Clara Tang, then no one else would do.

Ethan followed the road ahead, a path he and Clara had walked countless times.

This place held their best times—the laughing, the playing, and even the angry arguments—but back then, they were both certain they would never part.

A self-deprecating smile touched Ethan’s lips. He covered his slightly reddened eyes with his hand; the sunlight was far too piercing.

Once he composed himself, he caught a glimpse of a girl in a long blue dress passing him by. She held a bouquet of sunflowers and led a dog on a leash. He caught the familiar scent of citrus.

Ethan’s nerves jolted. He abruptly lowered the hand covering his eyes as the sunlight flooded his vision.

His view ahead was slightly blurred. He instinctively took two steps forward, but his pace faltered the moment he saw the dog clearly.

It couldn't be Clara Tang; she was gone.

But the back of the girl in the blue dress looked so much like her—so much that Ethan felt a moment of trance-like confusion.

Ethan stared at her back, watching her walk across the crosswalk.

She was holding the leash of a guide dog; she was blind.

An inexplicable sense of pity rose in Ethan’s heart—the emotion came hurriedly and left just as fast.

He withdrew his gaze and gave a bitter smile.

Over the past few years, he had done many good deeds and even prayed to gods and buddhas, only hoping that Clara was doing well—that wherever she was, she was safe and at peace.

But it was useless. She would never respond to him again. He couldn't save her, and he couldn't save himself, the person who wanted to give up.

...

Thirteenth Alley.

"Cece, you're back!" The woman selling wood carvings greeted the girl in the blue dress warmly.

"Yes, hello Auntie Li." Clara Tang turned her vacant eyes toward the source of the voice, and the dog at her feet smartly came to a halt.

"Hurry home. Your mother has been out here looking for you several times, worried you’d get lost."

Hearing the teasing in Auntie Li’s voice, Clara gave a shy smile and turned to the guide dog at her feet. "Abu, let’s go. Let's go home."

With those words, Abu straightened up and led Clara toward their house.

Chapter 15

"Mom, I'm home," Clara called out to her mother.

Mrs. Tang immediately came out of the kitchen. Seeing her daughter about to enter, she said nervously, "Cece, watch the doorstep!"

"I know, Mom. You've said it several times already." Clara lifted the corners of her mouth slightly, her dimples appearing as she did so.

Mrs. Tang grumbled affectionately, "Have you forgotten how many times you tripped over this doorstep when you were first getting used to Abu? Your father wanted to tear it down."

"How was business at the flower shop today?" Clara wisely changed the subject.

"How could it be? Just the same as always—neither good nor bad. Don't worry, it can definitely support you." Mrs. Tang’s words held a deeper meaning.

Clara caught it, of course. She didn't argue but simply tugged at her mother's sleeve. "Mom, I'm going to 'watch' TV."

The word "watch" made Mrs. Tang’s body stiffen. Her eyes instantly turned red, though she didn't let Clara notice.

She suppressed her emotions and gave a soft reply.

Clara sat upright on the sofa; it would be more accurate to say she was listening rather than watching.

Three years ago, Clara had been very, very seriously injured. They had traveled to many places just to find a sliver of hope. She finally woke up, but because a blood clot was pressing on her nerves, there was a high probability she would never see again.

Mrs. Tang couldn't help but look away. In fact, over the last two years, the word "watch" had been almost a taboo in their house; only Clara acted as if she didn't care at all.

But as a mother, how could Mrs. Tang not know Clara’s fear and helplessness?

Clara didn't want them to worry, so they didn't speak of it.

But every time Clara secretly hid under the covers to cry, Mrs. Tang had no idea how long she herself had been crying outside the door.

She felt a mother's heartache for her daughter. Her Cece had once been so brilliant—young, with a rich resume, a surgeon at the Third Hospital.

But now, she had to stay at home, afraid of causing trouble for others if she went out.

If her brother hadn't forced her this time, she likely would have stayed inside forever.

"Cece, did your brother say when he was coming over?" Mrs. Tang called out.

Clara turned her head slowly. "Marcus Tang said he isn't coming today."

"Why call him Marcus Tang? He's your brother!" Mrs. Tang scolded.

"I know, I know," Clara called back.

Then she turned and whispered to herself, "How is he a brother? He's clearly a bossy autocrat!"

After saying that, her ears were filled only with the sound of the wind through the hall and the dialogue from the TV. Clara leaned back against the sofa, feeling a bit tired. Abu lay at her feet, exceptionally well-behaved.

She hadn't been out in a long time. Today, Marcus had used the excuse of needing her to deliver documents to force her out. She and Abu had walked and stopped along the way, successfully delivering the files to Marcus’s office.

Sunlight spilled over the top of her head. Because of her blindness, her other senses were incredibly sharp. The roar in her ears and the various scents in the air made it feel as if she were re-integrating into the crowd.

But the darkness before her eyes told her clearly that she wasn't.

She could no longer heal people as she once did; even living alone was difficult.

Her parents, who should have been retired, were busy again because of her, and her brother still hadn't married.

It was hard not to feel self-loathing.

And then there was that person. Clara’s heart still felt a faint ripple at the thought of his name.

He was probably already married.

It seemed she was the only one forever trapped in place.

"Cece, time to eat!" Her mother’s voice called her back from her drowning thoughts. She slowly looked up and felt her way to the dining room.

Amidst her mother's nagging, Clara suddenly interrupted, "Mom, can I try helping out at the flower shop?"

Mrs. Tang let out an "ah" of surprise. Clara’s eyes were still vacant, but they were strangely firm. "I can't stay at home and be a useless person forever."

Chapter 16

"Cece, we never thought you were a useless person. You can take your time; there’s no rush. Your father and I are still capable; don't worry about the family." Mrs. Tang’s eyes were a bit red.

"I know, but I can't stay in the same spot forever and let you pull me along. I can slowly adapt, even if I never see again." Clara’s nose stung, but her tone remained firm.