The living room was so empty it felt alarming. Only the floor lamp that he had forgotten to turn off remained in the corner, holding onto its last dim, yellow glow.

He rubbed his throbbing temples and sat up, the memories of last night instantly piercing his mind.

Vivian's pale face, that casual phrase "I'm dying," and the finality of her silhouette as she turned and walked away, looking completely unlike herself.

"Never a single day of peace," he cursed under his breath, reaching for his phone. The screen was agonizingly blank.

No missed calls, no new messages.

He instinctively clicked into Vivian's chat. Their last conversation had ended three days ago.

It was a photo of her lunch at the school cafeteria, a simple plate of braised pork, with a brief caption:

"They have braised pork today. Remember to eat on time."

At that moment, he had been listening to Sienna complain about the difficulties of her new project. He had casually swiped the notification away, not even bothering to reply with a simple acknowledgment.

Sylvester ran his fingers through his hair in frustration, standing up to walk over to the coffee table.

The medical report still lay there, the stark black text on white paper appearing incredibly piercing.

Next to it sat a divorce agreement.

He picked it up and flipped to the last page, his gaze freezing completely.

At the very end of the agreement, a line of elegant handwriting had been added. It was Vivian's script:

"All assets go to our son, Harvey Hurst. I leave with nothing. Do not look for me. — Vivian Hurst"

The words "leave with nothing" stabbed into his eyes like needles.

Sylvester's heart tightened violently. A strange, unprecedented panic surged up without warning, completely seizing his breath.

He grabbed his car keys, preparing to rush out the door, but the moment he took a step, his logic forcefully pulled him back.

It had to be the same old trick.

Using divorce to threaten him, using a "clean break" to show off her pride—wouldn't she just come crawling back in the end anyway?

She loved him so much, loved him enough to tolerate Sienna for twenty-five years. How could she possibly bring herself to truly leave?

His phone rang right at that moment. It was Sienna.

"Sylvester~" her voice was as sweet as honey, "have you set off yet? I can have my driver pick you up from the airport."

Sylvester checked the time, "Still have an hour."

"Then I'll wait for you in the VIP lounge." Sienna paused, lowering her voice slightly with a well-timed touch of hesitation and concern, "By the way... did Sister Vivian come back last night? Is she... alright?"

"What could possibly happen to her?" Sylvester's tone was entirely cold, as if speaking about an irrelevant stranger, "Just her usual act. She'll be back on her own in a couple of days."

Hanging up the phone, he walked into the bathroom to take a shower.

As the hot water poured down, he suddenly remembered that Vivian suffered from severe rheumatism.

Whenever a rainy day arrived, her knees and wrists would ache so badly that she couldn't sleep, tossing and turning through entire nights.

When she left last night, she had only been wearing a thin summer dress, without even taking a jacket.

...What did that have to do with him?

She was the one who chose to leave.

Sylvester forcefully shut off the faucet, dried himself, changed his clothes, and dragged his suitcase out the door.

While changing his shoes at the entryway, he noticed a white envelope sitting on top of the shoe cabinet, marked with the words: "To Sylvester Hurst, Personal."

He opened it. Inside was only a sticky note with a single line of text:

"By the time you see this note, I suppose I will no longer have to wait for you to come home."

It was Vivian's handwriting, very neat.

Sylvester stared at the line for a few seconds, then let out a cold laugh, crumpling the note into a ball and tossing it into the trash can.

"Vivian," he said to the empty entryway, his voice carrying a sharp warning, "the older you get, the more childish you become. You better not take this game too far."

"My patience has its limits."

On the way to the airport, Sylvester's heart suddenly began to pound frantically out of nowhere.

It felt as though an invisible hand was squeezing it tightly, making it heavy and difficult to breathe.

He rolled down the car window to let the cold wind rush in, but the unease didn't dissipate; instead, it grew heavier by the second.

His mind uncontrollably replayed the expression Vivian had worn when she said those words last night.

"If I told you I was dying, would you believe me?"

She had been so peaceful, so calm... as if she were talking about someone else's business.

Absurd!

Sylvester shook his head forcefully, trying to cast those chaotic thoughts out of his mind.

The car arrived at the airport, where Sienna was already waiting for him in the VIP lounge.

She was wearing a white dress today, and the moment she saw him, she fluttered over like a butterfly, throwing her arms around him.

"Sylvester! I missed you so much!"

Sylvester patted her back somewhat abstractedly, "Yeah."

"What's wrong?" Sienna sharply noticed that his mood was off. She linked her arm through his, her voice softening, "Are you still stressing over Sister Vivian's situation?"

"If you ask me, she's just trying to get your attention by putting on a show."

"The more you care, the more satisfied she'll be."

Sylvester didn't say a word, his eyes fixed entirely on his phone screen.

Vivian's profile picture was still that old photograph.

She was standing at the podium, her profile gentle, her eyes reflecting light.

It was a candid photo he had taken on a whim many years ago, and she had used it ever since, never changing it.

"Sylvester?" Sienna tugged at his sleeve, her voice carrying a hint of grievance, "It's time for us to board..."

Sylvester stood up, dragging his suitcase toward the boarding gate.

But after taking a few steps, he suddenly stopped.

"You go ahead," he turned around, his voice turning heavy, "I'll rebook for the next flight."

Sienna froze, "Why? Did something happen?"

"Nothing," Sylvester was already walking back, his pace incredibly fast, "I just remembered I have some urgent matters to handle."

"But..." Sienna tried to chase after him, but Sylvester had already vanished around the corner without looking back once.

She stood in place, looking down the empty corridor, biting her lip as her nails dug deeply into her palms.

Sylvester got back into the car and told the driver, "To the coastal park."

He didn't know what he was doing.

The car sped toward the ocean, the scenery outside blurring past.

Sylvester stared at his own reflection in the window glass, his fingers unconsciously tapping against his knee.

He remembered Vivian's silhouette as she left last night once again.

So thin, so fragile, yet her back had been perfectly straight, without a single backward glance.

It didn't look like her.

It didn't look like the Vivian who always meekly waited for him until midnight, never daring to utter a single harsh word.

The car came to a stop at the entrance of the coastal park.

The beach was mostly deserted in the morning, save for a few elderly morning runners and the lonely cries of seagulls.

Sylvester walked along the coastline, eventually standing atop a black jagged rock.

Before him was a gray ocean, a gray sky, the entire world enveloped in an oppressive blanket of gray.

He suddenly found himself utterly ridiculous.

Did he actually believe she would take her own life? Did he really run all the way to the ocean just to look for her?

Vivian valued life so much, loved her son so much—how could she possibly bring herself to die?

This had to be a play meant to punish him, to make him anxious, a calculated performance.

For all he knew, she was probably hiding in some hotel right now, laughing at his foolishness and panic.

Sylvester let out a cold scoff, turned around, and walked away.

Chapter 3

Returning to the empty house, Sylvester's irritation grew increasingly intense.

A faint scent of gardenia from Vivian still lingered in the living room, intertwining with the rose perfume Sienna had left behind earlier, creating a bizarre, unsettling aroma.

He walked over to the coffee table, picked up the divorce agreement he had crumpled and smoothed back out, and stared at Vivian's elegant signature. Anger flared hotly in his chest.

He ripped the divorce agreement in half and slammed it violently onto the floor.

"You want a divorce? No way."

Whether Vivian was truly losing her mind or just hiding on purpose, she was his wife, and she would never escape him in this lifetime.