He returned to his own room and closed the door, shutting out the noise from outside.

The room fell silent instantly, save for the stray sounds of firecrackers outside.

He took off his coat and sat on the edge of the bed. Subconsciously, he picked up his phone again and opened the call logs.

The latest entry was that interrupted video call with Andrea.

He hesitated but didn't call back.

Maybe she really was asleep.

It was the New Year; there was no need to wake her. He would call in the morning.

He told himself this and was about to go wash up when there was a soft knock at the door.

"Julian, are you asleep?" It was Macy’s soft voice.

Julian went over and opened the door.

Macy was wearing soft pajamas with a coat draped over her shoulders. She was holding her pillow, standing barefoot on the soft hallway carpet.

"Macy? What is it? Why aren't you sleeping?" Julian asked.

Macy bit her lower lip and looked up at him. Her voice became even softer, carrying a faint, nearly imperceptible tremor and a hint of coquettishness: "Julian, I'm a little scared. The hotel room is so empty. Can I... can I sleep with you tonight? Like we did when we were kids?"

As she spoke, she took a small step forward until she was almost pressed against him. Her eyelashes fluttered on her upturned face, looking utterly pitiable.

Julian was stunned.

He looked at the face so close to his.

The memories of their childhood together, the regrets of missing out, and the heart-fluttering excitement of their "reunion" came rushing back in an instant.

The hotel corridor was silent, and the air seemed thick with a subtle, ambiguous tension.

He opened his mouth, his throat tightening.

Chapter 9

In the instant that the word "okay" was almost out of his mouth, another face suddenly flashed through his mind.

Pale and calm.

An inexplicable irritability replaced the romance. He frowned and took a half-step back, creating distance between them. His voice became clear and restrained: "Macy, stop fooling around."

The anticipation on Macy’s face froze instantly, turning into shock and hurt. "Julian..."

"What happened between us is in the past," Julian interrupted her. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an air of re-establishing his stance. "I’ve told you, I only see you as a sister now."

"A sister?" Macy’s voice suddenly rose, filled with unbelievable grievance. "You only see me as a sister? Then why did you record everything that happened every day since our reunion? Why did you write those reunion diaries and post them on that secret account? Do you have any idea how much it hurt every time I saw them, and how... how much I couldn't help but have hope?"

She finally screamed out the words she had been holding in, tears rolling down her cheeks along with her words.

Julian was completely dumbfounded. His expression shifted from restrained calm to shock and a hint of embarrassment at having his secret exposed. "How... how do you know about that account?"

He thought he had hidden it well. No one else was supposed to know.

Seeing his panicked state, Macy felt even more wronged, though it was mixed with a touch of vengeful satisfaction. "How do I know? I saw it on Andrea’s phone! She follows that account. She saw everything, every single post!"

Boom—!

Andrea knew.

That secret account, those records, all those hidden feelings he had about their "reunion"—the excitement, the nostalgia, even the bitterness of being left behind...

Andrea knew everything!

No wonder...

No wonder she had become increasingly silent and calm over the past few months.

No wonder she had agreed so easily when her mother suggested she "step aside" for a blind date.

No wonder her reaction to his concern was so cold, even numb.

"So, her recent behavior was all because of this?" Julian’s voice sank as he asked Macy.

Seeing his sudden change in expression, Macy bit her lip and nodded through her tears. "She must have seen it. Julian... should we... should we not be so close?"

"There is no 'we should not,'" Julian interrupted her sharply.

"Macy, listen closely," he said, emphasizing every word. "Three years ago when your family was in trouble, your parents gave you all the money they could scrape together to send you abroad. And Andrea—she took on all the debt. These past three years have not been easy for her."

"And I," he paused, his tone complex. "I am married to her. That is a fact. As for those diaries," he avoided the subject, "that’s all in the past. Now, you are just my sister, Andrea’s sister, and nothing more."

"Now, go back to your room."

Macy looked as though she had been stabbed by his cold attitude. The color drained from her face, her lips trembled, and tears flowed uncontrollably.

She saw the unfamiliar distance and irritation in Julian’s eyes. Clutching her pillow, she stumbled back two steps, then turned and ran back into her room, slamming the door shut.

Silence returned to the corridor.

Julian leaned against the doorframe, frustratedly running a hand through his hair.

Andrea knew.

She knew, yet she hadn't said a word. This silence made him more uneasy than any argument could.

What was she thinking? What would she do? Had she completely given up on him, or even planned to leave? Was that why she agreed so easily to the blind date?

He remembered her recent behavior—calm to the point of being eerie.

No, it couldn't end like this.

It couldn't end between him and Andrea this way.

At the very least, it couldn't end because of the embarrassing discovery of that secret account.

He needed to explain, he needed to make amends. Andrea was his wife; that would not change.

Julian composed himself, took out his phone, and tried calling Andrea again.

Still, no one answered.

He frowned, his frustration growing. Was it because she saw him with Macy that she refused to answer? Or had she truly made up her mind to "step aside" and give him the cold shoulder?

Just as he was about to dial again, an unknown number called him.

"Hello, is this Mr. Julian?" It was the First City People's Hospital.

Julian’s heart skipped a beat. "Speaking. What is it?"

The voice on the other end was calm. "Mr. Julian, we regret to inform you that your wife, Ms. Andrea, passed away at 11:59 PM last night after emergency efforts failed due to multi-organ failure from late-stage stomach cancer. We would like to ask you..."

At that exact moment, a final, late burst of New Year's fireworks roared outside. The "Bang! Pop!" of the explosions flooded into his ears, drowning out the voice on the phone.

"What? What did you say? Who?" Julian didn't catch the last part, only catching the words "hospital" and "wife." His heart tightened, and he asked urgently into the receiver, "What happened to Andrea? Say that again!"

However, before the person on the phone could repeat it, the door behind him was thrown open.

His mother-in-law rushed out, her face covered in tears and her expression one of terrified collapse. Her voice trembled: "Julian! The hospital... the hospital called and said that Andrea... Andrea is gone!!"

His father-in-law followed behind her, his face deathly pale and his lips quivering.

A loud buzzing sound filled Julian’s head, and the world went silent.

He turned his head stiffly, pressing the phone back to his ear.

On the other end, the doctor’s voice came through clearly:

"Mr. Julian? Are you listening? Please accept our condolences. Your wife, Ms. Andrea, passed away at 11:59 PM last night."

Chapter 10

After hanging up, Julian felt a chill run through his body, his fingertips trembling uncontrollably.

He stared at the dark phone screen. "No... it's impossible..." he murmured, refusing to believe the absurd news.

Martha had been helped up by now. Although the tear stains on her face weren't dry, her initial collapse seemed to have passed, replaced by a desperate doubt and a following surge of anger.

Seeing Julian looking lost and soul-shattered, she spoke with a raspy voice, her tone carrying a hint of hope mixed with shifted blame: "Julian, do you think Andrea is doing this on purpose? Is she angry because we all came out for the New Year without her? Did she conspire with the hospital to play this kind of prank to scare us?"

Arthur didn't speak, but his brows were knit tight, his eyes reflecting a similar uncertainty and irritation.

A prank?

The word stung Julian.

Andrea?

Could the always quiet, even submissive Andrea really pull off a prank as big as "faking her death"?

Yet, a corner of his heart clung to this like a lifeline, desperate for it to be true—even if it was a cruel joke.

He needed to confirm it immediately.

His fingers flew through his contacts, and he dialed a friend who lived near their apartment complex.