"Have you ever thought about whether this is fair to her?"

"You are still spewing madness, saying you want to kill her when she gets out—well, I’m telling you, you will never get out in this lifetime!"

The recorder beside him called out cautiously: "Captain..."

The Captain she knew was steady; this was the first time she had seen him so out of character.

Zhang An sneered.

"I’m transferring my hatred, but what about you, Officer Caleb?"

"Ten years ago, your brother died in a car accident. Rowan lay in the ICU with a cerebral hemorrhage and almost died, too."

"But did Rowan do anything wrong? You are just like me—you’ve hated Rowan for just as many years."

Chapter 12

Hearing this.

Caleb was stunned: "ICU?"

Hadn't she gone abroad completely unscathed? She had never mentioned this.

Zhang An said with deep regret: "She lay in the ICU for a month, but it’s a pity she was sent abroad by her mother as soon as she woke up. Otherwise, how could I have let her live until now."

She lay in the ICU for a month? Why did he know nothing about this?

Just then, Claire’s mother called.

Caleb thought for a moment before answering.

Claire’s mother wouldn't call if it wasn't something important.

"Caleb, I was sorting through Claire’s belongings and found some notes from Rowan in her pencil case."

"The notes say that Rowan likes you."

...

Caleb arrived at the Claire family home.

The woman who used to be meticulously dressed and elegant now had white hair in her dark locks.

The living room was filled with photos and belongings of Claire from when she was alive.

Caleb stood there in a daze.

He said "my condolences" over and over again.

But the pain of losing a loved one was a life-long dampness.

Seeing Caleb, Claire’s mother wiped the dampness from the corners of her eyes: "Caleb, you’re here."

She turned and took an old pencil case from the sofa, the case filled with yellowed scraps of paper: "I think these must be notes they passed in class during high school."

"These were originally the private thoughts of two girls, but I think you should see them."

Caleb took the pencil case and opened the notes.

In the notes.

Rowan wrote.

"Claire, I’ve only told you about liking Caleb; you are not allowed to tell anyone else!"

"When will I confess? I haven't decided yet. What about you? When are you going to confess to Ezra?"

"Do you remember when we went to the amusement park during our first year of high school? The power went out, and I got separated from you both. I was afraid of the dark and was walking through the crowd with my head down, but Caleb found me with just one glance. He walked toward me through the crowd, and at that moment, it felt as if the whole world had gone silent."

Caleb felt a lump in his throat.

He remembered that time.

Rowan had no sense of direction; she would get lost even at her own doorstep.

So every time they went out, he would follow three steps behind her.

For those years, he thought she liked Ezra.

So, he seemed to have developed a habit of standing not far away, watching her quietly.

He had never told anyone that every time Rowan got close, he felt his heart was about to burst through his chest.

Every time he saw her laughing with Ezra, he felt deeply sad and lost.

He flipped through the notes, one by one.

Rowan wrote.

"I don't think I’ve ever liked anyone this much before."

"I like him so much that I’m afraid if he knew my feelings, we wouldn't even be able to be friends."

"Do you know why I am a snowflake? Because Caleb likes snow."

Caleb stared at them for a long, long time, those characters seeming to pass through their awkward adolescence, hammering onto his chest word by word.

So, Rowan had liked him.

He seemed to understand a little now.

He understood why Claire had taken the initiative to find him the moment she learned Rowan had returned.

She had told him: "Let’s pretend to be a couple."

She knew that such a method would hurt her.

But even when she was pointing at condoms right in front of her face, Rowan remained so calm and indifferent.

It was as if she didn't care about anything at all.

Caleb gripped the notes tightly, his heart filled with an unspeakable sadness.

Suddenly, at this moment, he didn't know what he was hating her for anymore...

Claire’s mother wiped down Claire’s belongings, organizing them item by item into a box.

She suddenly spoke: "Claire must have reunited with Ezra by now, right? Whenever those two were together, they would always bicker. I don't know if Claire would be able to win an argument against Ezra."

The room went silent.

Claire’s mother’s tears flowed uncontrollably, and she said: "That’s good...".

"At least she’s not in pain anymore."

Chapter 13

For these ten years.

Claire seemed to have turned into a different person; she lived her life in a mechanical routine, but that was all it was—simply living.

Claire’s mother had thought of countless ways to help, taking her to see psychologists, going on trips, and introducing her to potential suitors.

It wasn't until Claire said.

"Mom, I can't forget him."

Caleb listened in silence.

He didn't know how to respond, only saying, "Mm."

Claire’s mother suddenly set down what she was holding and looked at him earnestly.

"Caleb, that event happened ten years ago."

"You should let it go, too."

"What Rowan has experienced over these years is far more than we ever imagined."

"I know you don't truly hate her, but rather you resent her—resent her for leaving for ten years without a word."

"When you use the sharpest words to hurt her, aren't you just hoping she will take the initiative to tell the truth, wanting an apology from her?"

"But Caleb, she lost her parents and her best friend overnight. As someone suffering from severe depression, she spent every day thinking of how to end her own suffering. How could you expect her to respond to you?"

"She didn't want to be a burden, and even less did she want to bring her pain to you."

"So, Caleb. Rowan finally managed to piece her shattered self back together, finally managed to return to Riverside. When you bring up the past, aren't you just shattering her all over again?"

The words struck his heart like a bullet.

Caleb had hated Rowan for not caring about him, for not revealing her scars to him; he hated that she would rather do such menial work than bow her head to him.

But now, he understood.

As long as she could wake up, he didn't want anything else.

He didn't need her explanations or her apologies—he only wanted her to live well.

Just then, his phone rang.

It was a call from the hospital.

The voice on the other end said, "Rowan has woken up."

Caleb drove, racing all the way to the hospital.

He rushed to the door of the ward.

He saw Rowan lying in pain on the hospital bed, wearing an oxygen mask, her breathing labored.

The overwhelming guilt made it impossible for Caleb to breathe.

Caleb took a deep breath before calling her name: "Rowan..."

However, as Rowan lifted her eyes to look at him, her gaze was filled with indifference, as if she were looking at an unimportant stranger.

The doctor pulled Caleb aside and explained, "The patient is currently suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, resulting in selective amnesia."

"She has just woken up and is still in the recovery phase; do not overly stimulate the patient."

Amnesia?

So, she had forgotten him.

After a long silence, Caleb finally asked, "Can she recover?"

The doctor sighed deeply: "That depends on the patient's recovery."

"For patients with stress-induced amnesia, we doctors actually hope they never remember."

Patients choose to forget a portion of their painful memories.

Therefore, the person who caused her pain was him.

Rowan looked at Caleb and asked Mr. Lewis beside her: "Uncle Lewis, who is this..."

Mr. Lewis hesitated, not knowing how to reply.

Caleb reached out his hand, introducing himself: "Hello, I am the officer in charge of your case. My name is Caleb."

His voice trembled, but he forced himself to say with restrained pain.

"We are relieved that you’ve woken up."

"Get some rest; I won't disturb you any further."

He was afraid—afraid that if he stayed in the ward for even a moment longer, he would lose his composure.

Caleb sat in the corridor outside the ward.

He gripped the note in his pocket—the one Rowan had written saying she liked him.

He touched the handwriting, one character at a time, his heart feeling as if it were burning.

Not long after, Mr. Lewis came out of the ward.