"Just wait; the young master said we can play with her however we want in two months!"

She was like a joke spreading through the crowd, and every mention felt like a sharp blade piercing her skin.

Chloe wore an apologetic expression: "I’m so sorry, Sister Clara. Your husband was just too worried about me. You don’t mind, do you?"

Clara’s lips trembled, then she saw Chloe cover her mouth, feigning panic.

"Oh my, I forgot that Sister Clara has a hearing disability and can’t hear!"

As soon as the mocking words fell, the crowd burst into raucous laughter.

Clara’s body trembled slightly. The overwhelming malice made her ears ring, but she could only endure the humiliation and force a pretense of composure.

"Too loud."

Marcus’s deep voice wasn't loud, but it silenced the room instantly.

He rubbed his temples as if suppressing something: "For this upcoming floral competition, I won't let Clara participate. The championship will still be yours."

Clara’s heart gave a violent jolt.

She couldn't even count how many times Marcus had stopped her from entering competitions.

She had thought it was possessiveness, a desire to keep her by his side, but she hadn't expected it was because he was afraid she would steal the spotlight from Chloe.

Marcus continued: "Chloe, you know clearly that I only love you in this life. Even the wedding ring I wear is engraved with your name."

Chloe laughed coquettishly and pushed Marcus lightly, urging him: "Stop it, your wife, Clara, is already here checking up on you."

Marcus paused. His blurred vision focused on Clara, and he quickly stood up, coughing lightly.

"Weiwei, why are you here?"

Seeing her bare ears, his brow relaxed unconsciously. He took her hand, shielding her as he walked out, just as he always did.

As waves of warmth stained her cold fingertips, tears welled up in Clara’s eyes.

"Leaving already? Young Master, when are you going to let us play with Clara for a bit?"

The people in the private room still wanted to jeer, but a single, sharp look from Marcus silenced them instantly.

Seeing Marcus standing up for Clara, Chloe shook her wine glass and pouted.

"Marcus, you’re so good to Clara that even I’m jealous."

Marcus’s footsteps faltered, and he chuckled softly.

"If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be intentionally playing out this charade for her to see. She really should be grateful to you."

Chapter 3

A mere sentence, like a thousand sharp arrows, pierced through Clara’s chest.

For the first time, she hated that her hearing had returned so quickly.

It happened so fast that she had no time to prepare before being left covered in wounds by the man who had been by her side for seven years.

Even though it was early autumn, a chill swept through Clara’s entire body.

Marcus brought Clara to the car and reached into the box to take out her spare hearing aid to put it on for her.

It was the most natural gesture, yet as Marcus pulled his hand away, he saw her face was covered in tears.

In the seven years they had been together, this was the first time he had ever seen her cry.

Marcus panicked slightly and reached out to wipe away her tears, but Clara turned her face to avoid him.

Marcus’s hand froze in mid-air as he watched her wipe away her tears and look out the window.

"It’s nothing; the wind just blew something into my eyes."

As soon as Clara turned her head away, tears flooded her cheeks.

Marcus tightened his grip on Clara’s hand and did not ask again.

During the short drive, he looked down at his phone more than a dozen times.

Through the reflection in the car window, she saw the blue cloud social media profile picture that belonged exclusively to Chloe.

Clara closed her eyes, but she couldn't hide the embarrassment in their depths.

Upon returning to Evergreen Manor, Marcus went straight to the study to work.

Clara gathered everything related to him into cardboard boxes and placed them in the designated disposal room for the trash collectors.

Even the flowers carefully preserved in the cabinets, specifically selected for Marcus, were tossed into the bin together.

With red eyes, she lowered her trembling fingers, unable to stop the ache in her chest.

Accompanied by deep footsteps, Marcus emerged from the study, pulled her hair back, and left a scorching kiss on her neck.

Noticing he wanted to take things further, Clara silently dodged him.

"You’re drunk today; you should get some rest."

Marcus paused and reached out to pull her into his arms again: "Okay."

The room’s furnishings were much sparser, as everything related to Clara had been removed.

He didn't seem to notice, only inhaling the faint floral scent on her body, and said hoarsely: "In the future, leave things like cleaning the room to the servants."

Clara leaned in his arms without a word, letting the tears well up in her eyes.

It wasn't just the flowers she had discarded, but her affection and attachment to Marcus.

It was a sleepless night.

Clara had countless nightmares, dreaming that Marcus had abandoned her and left, and no matter how she ran, she couldn't catch up.

Waking up from the dream in a cold sweat, Clara instinctively reached out to feel beside her.

It was empty.

The bedroom was empty, with only the desolate moonlight falling upon her.

Her temples throbbed sharply; the symptoms of her PTSD seemed to be making a comeback.

Clara picked up her phone to message Dr. Lin and went downstairs, sitting blankly on the living room sofa.

"Weiwei? It’s so cold, why are you sitting here?"

Marcus pushed the door open, and just as he was about to get a blanket for her, a sharp voice rang out.

"You’re a grown woman and you don't even know how to take care of yourself? No wonder you haven't been able to conceive after being married for so long!"

Madam Meng scanned the flower-decorated living room with disdain, covering her nose in disgust.

"So many flowers, they make me want to sneeze! Why are you sitting there? Didn't you see me come in? Why haven't you poured tea yet? You’re deaf in the ears, not broken in the hands!"

Clara’s heart trembled, and as she struggled to stand up before she could even speak, she couldn't help but start coughing.

Marcus took her hand to warm Clara’s icy fingertips.

"Mom, stop picking on Weiwei. It’s not Weiwei’s fault that her health is poor."

Madam Meng rolled her eyes and took a gold-stamped engagement invitation from her bag, throwing it on the table.

"Julian is getting engaged to Chloe tomorrow. Make sure you both attend; don't embarrass the Meng family!"

As she spoke, the pressure on Clara’s wrist increased sharply, causing her eyelids to flutter in pain.

Marcus’s eyes flickered, and he released her hand to pour the tea.

If it hadn't been for his knuckles turning white from gripping the teacup so hard, Clara would have almost believed that Marcus’s unusual behavior just now was an illusion.

Madam Meng ignored her son’s secret maneuvers and simply continued to scan Clara up and down.

"You’re nothing but a cripple. You couldn't marry Julian, so you came to ruin Marcus instead. Do you really think he loves you?"

"If my grandson turned out to be deaf just like you, I would never let you off!"

"I really don't know what Marcus sees in you. The day he asks for a divorce will be a blessing from the ancestors!"

Clara’s face turned pale; the sharp, mean face of Madam Meng swayed before her vision.

After Madam Meng left in a huff of arrogance, Clara’s vision went black, and she lost consciousness completely.

She didn't know how much time had passed, but in her groggy state, she heard Dr. Lin’s hesitant voice.

"Mr. Meng, Madam is two months pregnant. If she takes the abortion pills like the previous times, she will never be able to conceive again..."

Clara felt a chill run through her heart. With all her might, she opened her eyes and heard Marcus, whose back was turned to her, say calmly:

"That’s enough. Mix the contraceptives into her sleeping pills. She’s already taken 15 bottles; one more time won't make a difference."

Chapter 4

Clara’s ears were filled with a deafening roar, and the last wall in her heart collapsed instantly.

Suddenly, the red string on her wrist fell to the floor without warning.

Her heartstrings snapped, and she picked up the broken thin string with reddened eyes.

In the third year of their marriage, to conceive a child, Clara and Marcus had spent ten consecutive months climbing the ten-thousand-step stone staircase to the temple, holding lotus flowers in their hands to pray for a child.

Regardless of wind or rain, they hadn't missed a single day.

On the 300th day, the abbot of the temple had stopped them with two red strings.