Chapter 1

"One month. I'm afraid you won't make it past the New Year."

The doctor removed the scans from the lightboard and turned to Andrea, who sat across from him. "Ms. Andrea, your condition is deteriorating faster than we anticipated. It would be best for a family member to come in so we can discuss things together. You can't handle the subsequent treatment plan and nursing arrangements alone."

Andrea lifted her eyes.

"I have no family," she said.

The doctor froze for a moment. "Your medical records list your husband, Julian..."

"That was before," Andrea interrupted him. "Now, I am alone."

The doctor fell silent for a few seconds, looking as though he wanted to say something but thought better of it. He tapped a few keys on his computer.

"I’m doubling the dosage of your painkillers. Take them when the pain gets bad—don't try to endure it," he said, handing her the prescription. "One nutrient supplement every morning and evening. You must return for a follow-up next week so we can adjust the plan."

"Alright."

Andrea nodded, pushed the door open, and walked out.

She looked down at her phone.

The screen lit up to a pristine notification bar, showing nothing but a weather update.

No missed calls, no new messages.

Andrea boarded a bus. She leaned against the back of her seat and closed her eyes.

As the bus passed the Central Mall through the hazy rain, the red neon sign of a famous hotpot restaurant glowed through the mist.

Inside the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, the lights were bright, and shadows of people moved about.

Andrea’s body went rigid.

She knew the four people sitting at the table by the window all too well.

Julian was wearing the grey shirt she had ironed for him just that morning. He was leaning in, saying something with a doting smile on his face.

Beside him sat Macy, who had been abroad for three years.

Opposite them sat Andrea's parents.

Her father was placing food into Macy’s bowl with natural, practiced movements. Her mother was laughing at something, her eyes curving into crescents.

That kind of heartfelt, unreserved laughter was something Andrea hadn't seen in three years.

The four of them were huddled around the steaming hotpot. The red chili oil bubbled away, and the small bowl in front of Macy was piled high with food.

The bus slowed down and came to a halt at the intersection. The light turned red.

Andrea pulled out her phone. In her contacts, Julian’s name was at the very top.

The receiver emitted a long, steady ringing tone.

Once, twice, three times.

Inside the window, the screen of the phone Julian had placed on the table lit up.

He glanced down at it.

Then, he gently turned the phone face down, resting it against the table.

He turned back to Macy, took the drink she handed him, and said something else that made Macy laugh even harder.

Andrea hung up. Then she dialed again.

Her fingers repeated the motion mechanically: hang up, redial, hang up, redial.

Thirty seconds left on the red light.

Inside the window, her father was holding up his phone to take a photo.

The four of them crowded together. Julian was on the left, Macy on the right, and her parents behind them. Macy flashed a peace sign, her face blooming like a flower.

Click.

Andrea put her phone down.

She should have known.

From the moment she discovered Julian’s secret social media account three months ago; from the moment he wrote "The first day of our long-awaited reunion"; from the moment he began recording every detail of his time with another woman.

The light turned green.

The bus slowly lurched forward.

Andrea leaned against the window; the glass was freezing.

She raised her hand and buried her face in her palms.

She remembered the day the family went bankrupt three years ago.

It had been a rainy evening just like this one. Her parents had thrust their last savings book into Macy’s hands and said, "Macy, take this. Go abroad and study hard. Don't worry about things at home."

Macy cried, hugging her mother. "Mom, I’ll miss you guys."

Her father patted her shoulder. "Silly child, just take care of yourself."

Andrea had stood by the door, wearing an old backpack that held only a few changes of clothes. No one looked at her. No one said a word to her.

Later, the rain grew heavier, and she walked out of the house she had lived in for twenty years all by herself. She didn't have an umbrella; she was soaked to the bone.

When Julian found her in his car, she was crouching at a bus station, shivering with cold.

He rushed out of the car, draped his coat over her shoulders, and said, "Andrea, come home with me."

A voice over the intercom jolted Andrea out of her memories.

She opened her eyes. The bus was empty, and the driver was looking back at her.

"Young lady, this is the end of the line."

She picked up her bag of medicine, stood up, and got off the bus.

The house was dark, but the motion-sensor light in the foyer flickered on. She changed her shoes and placed the medicine bag on the shoe cabinet, her gaze landing on the wall nearby.

Their wedding photo was still hanging there.

In the photo, Julian had his arm around her shoulder, the corners of his mouth turned up in a gentle, tender gaze.

Andrea stared at the photo for a long time before looking away.

The kitchen light was still on.

She walked over and, sure enough, the "keep warm" light on the rice cooker was lit. She opened the lid to find warm white porridge, cooked to perfection—the grains soft and silky.

A sticky note was attached nearby: "I've been hearing you say your stomach hurts lately. Eat small meals frequently; porridge is good for the stomach. Remember to drink it, don't let it get cold. I'll be back late."

scooped a bowl and sat down at the dining table.

The porridge was steaming, giving off a faint, clean scent of rice.

Her phone vibrated at that moment.

"Did you have the porridge? I'm with a client, might be very late. Your stomach isn't good, so don't eat anything raw or cold. There are apples I sliced in the fridge; let them sit for a bit before eating."

She stared at the message for a long while before locking the screen.

When she was halfway through the bowl, her stomach suddenly lurched violently.

She bolted upright and rushed to the bathroom.

Gripping the edge of the toilet, she doubled over, vomiting until it felt like her heart was tearing.

After a long while, the tremors finally subsided.

She flushed, walked to the sink, and turned on the faucet.

The cold water splashed against her face, freezing.

She looked up into the mirror.

The person in the reflection was deathly pale. Her lips were devoid of color, her hair was plastered messily against her forehead and cheeks, her eyes were red and swollen, and there were heavy dark circles beneath them.

She looked at herself like that for a long time.

Then, she suddenly let out a short laugh.

It was fine. There was only one month left anyway.

Chapter 2

Andrea curled up on the bed. She lay on her side, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. The glow of the phone screen illuminated the darkness, reflecting her ghostly pale face.

She remembered the day Macy was "found."

The house had been decorated with lanterns and streamers. The smiles on her parents' faces were brighter and more cautious than she had ever seen. They crowded around that timid girl, fretting over her needs, giving her the best room and the gentlest words.

Andrea had stood in the corner of the living room, watching the home she had lived in for over a decade become someone else's stage overnight.

From then on, her parents' gaze rarely fell upon her.

Except for Julian.

Julian, who had grown up with her, climbed the same trees, and flown the same kites, remained by her side just as before.

He was the one who took her hand and said, "Andrea, don't be afraid. You still have me."

She clung to him like a drowning person clutching at a straw.

Then came the day the family went bankrupt.

It was chaos—debt collectors at the door, her parents frantic.

She hid in her room and heard the hushed arguments outside. Finally, her mother came in with red eyes and a dry, raspy voice. "Andrea... the family really has no other way. Your father and I are sorry about these debts. But Macy... Macy is still so young."

It was Julian who found her that evening. He didn't ask a single question; he just pulled her up and held her in a crushing, desperate embrace.