Julian’s tears surged out instantly.

He turned and ran out.

The street was cold, dark, and empty.

He ran alone, not knowing where he was running, only knowing to run, run, run.

When he couldn't run anymore, he stopped, leaning against a wall and gasping for air.

Tears streamed down his face; he didn't bother to wipe them away.

He remembered the scene from moments ago.

She stood in the spotlight, wearing that silver-white gown, being kissed by someone else. That was the most beautiful scene he had ever seen in his life.

But that person wasn't him. It had never been him.

He leaned against the wall, slowly sliding down until he crouched on the ground.

He buried his head in his knees.

Chapter 20

Three years later, in the garden of the old Lu family estate, the sunshine was just right.

Nina sat in a rattan chair beneath the shade of a tree, holding a book in her hands. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled light and shadows upon her.

"Mommy!"

A milky-voiced sound came from afar.

Nina looked up and saw a small figure running from the other side of the garden. He was running unsteadily, followed by a frantic nanny.

"Young Master, slow down—"

The little one didn't listen; he kept running until he reached Nina, hugging her leg tightly.

"Mommy!"

Nina set aside the book, picked him up, and placed him on her lap.

The little guy was two and a half—the most playful age. Large eyes, long lashes, and two dimples when he smiled. He looked up at Nina, reaching out his small hand to touch her face.

"Mommy, where’s Daddy?"

"Daddy is busy." "Busy with what?" "Busy with work."

The little one furrowed his brow, looking unsatisfied.

"Daddy is busy every day."

Nina smiled and pinched his little nose.

"If Daddy isn't busy, who buys you toys?"

The little one thought for a moment, finding that logic sound, and nodded. "Okay, then."

Footsteps sounded from afar.

Lucas walked over, bent down, and kissed the little guy on the cheek. "Son, did you miss Daddy?"

The little one hugged his neck and nodded vigorously. "Yes!"

Lucas laughed, picking him up and hoisting him high. The little one giggled, drooling from laughter.

Nina watched them, the corners of her mouth curling up.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the city.

In a dilapidated hospital in the suburbs, there was a ward at the end of the corridor.

The room was tiny and dark, containing only a bed, a cabinet, and a chair. Outside the window was another building; the sunlight couldn't reach in.

Julian lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

He had aged more than three years. His hair was half-white, his face was full of wrinkles, his eye sockets deeply recessed, and he was so thin he was nothing but skin and bones.

His left hand had never fully recovered. After that fall, it hadn't healed properly, and he had continued to push himself with performances, leading to permanent damage. Now, the hand had no strength—he couldn't even hold a cup steady. His magic career had ended long ago.

With a ruined hand, how could he perform magic?

He had tried performing in small theaters, doing simple acts. But the audience didn't buy it; they said, "Isn't that Julian? How did he become like this?"

Eventually, he stopped performing. He took on many jobs. Delivering food, handing out flyers, watching the gate. He did whatever paid, suffered whatever hardships he had to.

He had to save that ten million. He was still obsessed with that wedding dress.

But Nina had long since become engaged, married, and had a child.

Julian knew it all. He kept watching the news about her. In newspapers, magazines, social media. She was living very well, with that man and their child.

Nina’s smile was beautiful—more beautiful than he had ever seen.

He saved those photos, looked at them every night, and continued to save money.

Saving money became the only reason he stayed alive.

Last winter, Julian fell ill.

Pneumonia, a severe case. He lay in his rented room for three days with a high fever, and no one knew. Later, when the landlord came to collect the rent, he found him unconscious on the floor and called an ambulance.

By the time he reached the hospital, his fever was forty degrees.

His life was saved, but his body was completely broken.

His lungs were ruined; he would wheeze after just a few steps. His heart was bad, too. The doctor told him he needed complete rest, that he couldn't tire himself out.

He was all alone. Lying there alone, eating alone, lost in thought alone.

On the nightstand sat that wooden box.

The one she gave him, carved with both their names.

He wiped it once a day and opened it once a day to take a look. It was empty inside, but he always felt it contained the most precious thing in his entire life.

He didn't know what it was.

Perhaps it was the look she gave him, perhaps the sound of her voice saying "I like you," perhaps the days they had spent together—those days he had never cherished.

The door opened. A nurse walked in, holding a bill. "Julian, it's time to pay."

Julian looked at her without speaking.

The nurse sighed.

"You’re three months behind. If you don't pay, the hospital has no choice but to discharge you."

Julian nodded. Discharge him, then. He didn't have much longer to live anyway.

He struggled to sit up, holding that wooden box to his chest.

Then he stood up and walked out, step by step.

Walking out of the ward, the sunlight was bright, blinding him.

He stood at the hospital entrance, not knowing where to go.

Then, he heard a voice.

Very soft, very far away, as if it were coming from another world.

"Julian."

He froze.

The next morning, someone found him lying by the side of the road.

He was clutching a wooden box to his chest, and he was no longer breathing.

In the women's prison, Clara sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall.

Seven years; she had only served three, with four more to go.

In these three years, she had thought about a lot.

Thought about childhood, thought about growing up with Julian, thought about the time after Nina appeared.

She wondered, if she hadn't been so greedy, so jealous, so full of hate, would things have been different?

Maybe Julian and Nina would be doing fine, maybe she would be somewhere else, living her own life, meeting other people—maybe she wouldn't be sitting here.

But there were no "maybes."

Every single thing she had done, she had chosen for herself.

"Clara, someone is here to see you."

She stood up and followed the guard out.

A woman sat in the visiting room. Young, beautiful, well-dressed, covered in everything she would never reach in her lifetime.

Nina.

Clara was stunned. She stood there, not knowing whether to walk over or step back.

Nina looked at her, her gaze calm. "Sit," she said.

Clara walked over slowly and sat opposite her.

"He died."

Clara’s tears fell.

Nina didn't cry. "I came today just to let you know." She stood up. "After all, you grew up together."

She turned and walked toward the door. "Reform well," she said. "When you get out, learn to be a decent person."

The door closed.

Clara sat there, tears streaming down her face.

She remembered so much.

Remembered Julian holding her hand to cross the street when they were kids. Remembered him buying her candy. Remembered him saying, "Clara, don't be afraid, I'm here."

Remembered her snatching him away from Nina, remembered the things she had done.

Remembered the look in his eyes the last time he looked at her.

She covered her face, sobbing until her whole body shook.

Nina walked out of the prison and got into the car. Lucas sat in the driver's seat, looking at her. "Are you okay?"

Nina nodded. "I'm okay."

Lucas started the engine and drove off. Nina leaned against the seat, looking out the window.

The sky was very blue, the sun was very bright.

She remembered so much.

Remembered that year she was twenty-four, sitting in the front row, watching him conjure a snowfall on stage.

Remembered him kneeling on one knee, holding a ring toward her.

Remembered the two seconds he hesitated outside the water tank.

Remembered him pushing her out, saying, "I'm trading her for this one."

Remembered him saying into the camera in the hospital bed, "I want to give her what she wants."

Remembered him clutching that box, collapsing by the roadside.

Nina closed her eyes.

"Mommy!" A small voice came from the backseat.

Nina turned back and saw her son趴ing on his child seat, reaching out his little hands to be held.

She smiled and reached out to touch his face.

"What's wrong?"

"Mommy, let's go home!"

"Okay, let's go home."

The car drove into the old Lu estate and parked beside the garden.

Nina got out, picked up her son, and walked toward the house under the warm sun. She paused at the door and glanced back.

In the garden, the roses were in full bloom.

[THE END]