She pulled an envelope from her pocket.

Inside was the signed divorce agreement, dated yesterday.

"But now..." Right before his eyes, she tore the agreement to shreds piece by piece.

The shredded paper drifted down to the floor like snow.

"Let's start over."

Sylvester wrapped his arms tightly around her, holding her with so much force it felt as though he wanted to fuse her into his very bones.

"Okay," his voice cracked with emotion, "We start over. Let me spend the rest of my life loving you properly."

Chapter 13

The Senior Class One classroom was so quiet that a pin drop could be heard.

Sylvester stood before the podium, with the writing Vivian had left on the blackboard behind him and fifty pairs of doubtful eyes ahead of him.

"Hello, students," he spoke, his voice steady, "I am Sylvester Hurst, Mrs. Hurst's husband. While she is recovering, I will be covering her classes."

Whispers erupted instantly throughout the classroom.

"Mrs. Hurst's husband? Isn't he a big businessman?" "Can he even teach literature?" "At such a critical moment in senior year, is this a joke?"

A boy sitting in the front row raised his hand directly, his tone blunt, "Sir, do you actually know how to teach literature? We can't afford to waste any time right now."

Sylvester nodded honestly, "No, I don't."

Disappointed sighs echoed through the room.

"But I will learn." He held up the thick stack of lesson plans, "This represents thirty years of Mrs. Hurst's teaching devotion. Every single core concept, your common mistakes, key focus areas, and advanced materials are detailed right here. I will follow her footsteps, learning word by word, and accompany you all the way to graduation."

He opened the lesson plans and projected them onto the screen.

When he turned to the text Memorial to the Emperor, Vivian's annotations in red ink were exceptionally striking:

"Focus heavily on the line: 'Without my grandmother, I would not have seen this day; without me, my grandmother could not finish her remaining years.' Connect this with the relationship between the students and their parents to evoke a true resonance."

Beside the annotation, there was a tiny line of handwritten text she had noted down carelessly:

"Harvey said he missed his dad today, and I told him his father was busy with work. In truth... I also hope he can spend more time with our child."

The classroom fell into absolute silence.

Sylvester's voice choked with emotion, "Mrs. Hurst is not only your teacher, but she is also my teacher. She taught me the meaning of responsibility and gentleness. Unfortunately... I learned it far too late."

He raised his head again, his gaze resolute.

"Today, we are going to study Memorial to the Emperor. The author chose to give up high status and wealth just to care for his aging grandmother. In my eyes, this is just like an exceptional employee turning down a promotion for the sake of family—it's not due to a lack of ability, but because they have chosen a far more critical responsibility."

"For all of you, your current responsibility is graduation. For Mrs. Hurst, you are her responsibility. And for me, my responsibility is to learn how to cherish the person right in front of me."

He drew from his own experiences to explain the concepts of filial piety and responsibility in a profound yet accessible manner. The students listened intently, and no one questioned him further.

When he reached the line about being entirely isolated and accompanied only by one's own shadow, Sylvester suddenly choked up.

In his past life, after Vivian was diagnosed and endured the agony alone while facing his cold indifference, had she been just as lonely?

His eyes reddened instantly. He abruptly turned his back to the class, facing the blackboard to regain control of his emotions.

"Mr. Hurst..." Caleb Moore, the class president, raised his hand carefully, "You love Mrs. Hurst very much, don't you?"

Sylvester turned around, his tears already brushed away, leaving behind only a profound remorse, "Very much. But I loved her far too late."

The dismissal bell rang, yet not a single student stood up to leave.

Caleb stood up and spoke loudly, "Mr. Hurst, we believe in you! And we believe in Mrs. Hurst! We will definitely work hard and never let her down!"

"Yes! We will definitely work hard!" the entire class shouted in unison.

Sylvester looked at the children, seeing the pride and satisfaction Vivian surely felt on regular days.

He picked up a piece of chalk and wrote on the board:

"Goal: Score within the top three of the grade during the mock exam. Commited by: Sylvester Hurst (Covering Teacher)"

The students rushed forward one after another, signing their names on the board.

At the very end of the corridor, Vivian stood quietly.

She watched the clumsy yet earnest man at the podium, watched him shed tears for her, and watched him being accepted by her students as her own tears fell silently.

Her phone vibrated with a text from Sylvester:

"For my first class, did I pass?"

Wiping away her tears, she replied with a smile:

"A sixty. But... the emotion was sincere, bonus points."

An instant reply came:

"I will work hard to reach a hundred."

Vivian stared at the screen, laughing until her tears fell once more.

This time, they were warm.

Late into the night inside the study, Sylvester was still grading the students' weekly journals.

In one journal, a student had written:

"Mr. Hurst cried today. It turns out adults get heartbroken too. Mrs. Hurst, please get well soon, we all miss you so much."

Sylvester picked up his red pen and wrote a careful annotation:

"Mrs. Hurst will get well very soon. Because she knows that her students and her husband are all waiting for her to come home."

The moonlight poured through the window, illuminating a newly placed family photograph of the three of them on the desk.

In the picture, Vivian smiled gently, Sylvester's gaze was entirely focused on her, and their young son snuggled happily between them.

This time, everything was still in time.

Chapter 14

The surgery was scheduled for nine o'clock tomorrow morning.

Vivian lay in the VIP room of the private hospital, still clutching her tablet. The screen displayed the district-wide public open class materials she had spent six months preparing, with detailed annotations crowding every single corner.

"Vivian, stop looking at it," Sylvester stepped inside, gently taking the tablet from her hands, "The doctor said you need to preserve your strength before the operation."

"But the open class is the day after tomorrow..." Vivian reached out to grab the tablet back, "Over two hundred teachers from across the district will be observing. Not a single mistake can be made."

"There won't be any mistakes." Sylvester placed the tablet on the nightstand and took her hand, "I will cover it on your behalf."

Vivian’s eyes widened in shock, "You? Covering a district-wide open class? Sylvester, you've lost your mind."

"Losing my mind for your sake is entirely worth it." He gazed deep into her eyes, "I used to disappoint you constantly. This time, let me do something for you."

Just then, the video call on the room's monitor rang.

Caleb Moore appeared on the screen, leading the entire class. Fifty young faces crowded together, each holding up a slip of paper covered in handwriting.

"Mrs. Hurst!" Caleb held up a petition sheet high in the air, "This is a petition signed by our entire class! Every single person has signed it! Please focus entirely on recovering, we are waiting for you to come back!"

The students' voices chimed in one after another:

"Mrs. Hurst, please get well soon!"

"Don't worry about the open class, Mr. Hurst, we will fully cooperate with you!"

"Yes! We are cheering you on together!"

Watching those familiar, smiling faces, Vivian’s vision blurred entirely with tears.

Sylvester bowed deeply toward the screen, "Thank you, students. I guarantee I will not let Mrs. Hurst down."

The video call disconnected, and silence returned to the room.

Sylvester sat by the bed, pulling a velvet box from his pocket.

"What is this?" Vivian asked.

He opened the box to reveal a delicate platinum necklace with a tiny star pendant.

"A gift for our fifth anniversary," Sylvester spoke softly, "I was supposed to give it to you yesterday, but yesterday... was far too chaotic."

He picked up the necklace, carefully fastening it around her neck.

As the cool pendant rested against her collarbone, Sylvester's fingers trembled slightly.

"Vivian," his voice was incredibly soft, "if the surgery..."

"There are no ifs." Vivian cut him off, taking his hand in a tight grip, "Sylvester, let me be the one to tell you this time—I will definitely be perfectly fine. Because I still need to wait for you to learn how to properly love someone, I still need to watch Harvey grow up, and I still have so many students left to teach."