"He is," he said.

My mother finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Then she lowered her voice, her eyes filled with a cautious, almost ingratiating light.

"Clara, Julian’s mother called me just now, and she was furious on the phone. Tell Mom the truth, is it because you didn't do something right again and made them unhappy?"

Julian’s pupils shook slightly.

My mother didn't notice his oddity, gripping his hand tightly, speaking with earnest concern.

"Mom knows you’re wronged, but Clara, look at our family’s standing and look at theirs. Being able to marry into the Julian family is a blessing you’ve cultivated for lifetimes. Whatever your mother-in-law says, just listen; don't talk back, don't make it hard for Julian."

"It’s not easy for a man to earn money outside. You need to be more considerate at home, you know?"

Julian opened his mouth, wanting to say something.

But my mother blocked him: "Also, no matter whose fault this car accident was, you must take the blame. Just say it was your carelessness that implicated Julian."

"As for your mother-in-law, Mom will go apologize later; you don't worry about it."

After finishing, my mother took a jar of still-warm chicken soup out of the cloth bag she was holding and placed it on the nightstand.

"Alright, there are some things at home, so Mom will go first. You rest well."

"Take this opportunity to nourish your body well and give Julian a child."

Julian remained stunned in place, unable to say a single word.

The moment my mother left, I secretly opened my eyes and looked at her retreating figure.

The moment the door closed, the ward was terrifyingly quiet.

Julian looked at that jar of chicken soup and called me.

"Clara."

I didn't respond.

His eyes were red: "Those things my mother said, those things your mother said, how many times have you heard them?"

"Why... why have you never told me?"

My throat hurt like hell.

I swallowed hard before I could make a sound.

"If I told you, would it have been useful?"

Julian fell silent.

I began to reminisce: "When your mother scolded me, you never helped me say a word."

"It wasn't because you didn't want to help, but because you were simply not present. You were never present."

"You were at the company, on business trips, at social engagements. You always had more important things."

Julian’s breathing immediately became rapid and fragmented, as if something was stuck in his chest, unable to go up or down.

But I remained calm, continuing to recall.

"One time, your mother came to our home. She said I wasn't worthy of you, said I was a burden, said that if it wasn't for you insisting on marrying me, she would never have let me enter the Julian household. Guess what I was thinking then?"

"I was thinking, thank goodness you weren't there. If you had heard it, you would have been put in a difficult position, caught in the middle."

"I didn't want to make things difficult for you."

I paused.

"Later I thought, let it be difficult, at least you should know what I am experiencing."

"But when you came back, I already didn't know how to bring it up. You were so busy, I didn't want you to have to deal with these things as soon as you got home."

"And later, I just got used to it."

But they didn't disappear.

They turned into my dissatisfaction with Julian, my suspicion of Julian.

They turned into insecurity, sensitivity, questioning, and anger.

And finally, they turned me into who I am today.

Chapter 5

The ward grew quiet again.

It’s strange; we actually haven’t had a proper conversation in a very long time.

Three months of cold war, under the same roof, two people like two parallel worlds. He ate his meals, I drank my water.

Occasionally our gazes would collide, then quickly snap away, like two magnets of the same pole.

But this quiet after the car accident was different.

It was like a thin layer of ice covering a lake; no one dared to press down hard.

Afraid that if someone spoke, it would shatter. And once shattered, the things frozen underneath would surge up, unstoppable.

Julian spoke suddenly.

"I'm sorry."

These three words landed in the quiet of the night like a stone thrown into that thin ice.

The ice didn't shatter, but a crack appeared—fine, stretching from the center all the way to the edge.

I still didn't speak.

It wasn't that I didn't want to respond; it was that I didn't know how to respond.

"I'm sorry" was too light—so light that it couldn't hold the weight of all those years of grievance.

Yet I knew that for him to say these three words, he had used all his strength.

Julian was a man with hard bones and even harder words.

He never apologized, never bowed his head, never let anyone see his fragile side.

He had said it now, but I didn't dare to take it.

I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I would say "It’s okay."

"It’s okay" are the three cruelest words in the world; they imply that those things really didn't matter.

They imply that all the tears and grievances of those years could be wiped away in one stroke.

They imply that he didn't need to change anything—as long as he said sorry, I would continue to endure, wait, and live my life like an isolated island, just as before.

Julian waited for a while, but didn't get a response.

He didn't say it a second time; he just slowly lowered his eyes, his eyelashes trembling.

That night, there were no more sounds.

The next morning at nine, Julian’s assistant arrived.

He had been following Julian for five years, was meticulous, and kept his mouth shut. I had seen him a few times, and he was always very polite.

"Mr. Julian." He addressed me, then nodded at Julian: "Mrs."

After that, he took a stack of documents from his briefcase and handed them to me: "Mr. Julian, this is the report for this quarter, along with some contracts that need your signature. I’ve brought them all."

I glanced at Julian; he nodded at me, signaling me to sign.

I took the documents and flipped through them, pretending to read.

Joe reported a few more work-related matters, and I used Julian’s habitual tone to grunt "Mm-hmm," and he didn't suspect a thing.

After the report was finished, Joe closed the folder, hesitated for a moment, and then lowered his voice.

"Mr. Julian, you asked me to pull the appointment records and surveillance for the meeting at the Ritz-Carlton that day. I’ve retrieved them. They prove completely that you and Ms. Selina were not together."

My heart skipped a beat.

"As for that note, I checked the dashcam from that night. Ms. Selina wrote that note in the back seat and tucked it into your suit pocket while it was left on the back seat."

"You were asleep in the passenger seat at the time; the driver can testify to it. I have already saved the surveillance footage."

My fingers tightened on the corner of the documents.

That note had been stuck in my heart like a thorn for three months—it couldn't be pulled out, and it wouldn't rot away.

I thought Julian was brushing me off, lying to me, and dismissing me with a flimsy excuse.

But he had actually gone to check.

It wasn't that he didn't care; he had gathered the evidence and was waiting for me.

But I hadn't given him the chance to produce it.

I had judged him guilty the very first second he tried to explain.

"Also..." Joe secretly glanced at Julian—the "Clara" me—and lowered his voice even more.

"The wedding anniversary surprise you asked me to prepare for Mrs. has arrived. When should I set it up?"

This time, I was truly stunned.

I bit my lip, using all my strength to mimic Julian’s tone: "Wait for notice."

Joe nodded and said nothing more.

I quickly signed the documents for Julian and handed them to Joe.

Joe gathered his things, straightened up, nodded at us, and walked quickly out of the ward.

The door closed.

This time, it was Julian who spoke first: "What did Joe tell you just now?"

I glared at him: "Didn't you hear it all?"

Although Joe had lowered his voice, the room was small and quiet; it was impossible that he hadn't heard.

He was asking on purpose.

Julian looked at me and suddenly smiled.

I was stunned by his smile, taking a few seconds to slowly react.

That glare of mine just now—it was a coquettish glance, the kind I hadn't used in a long, long time, a look I had almost forgotten myself.

It was the look I only had when I was being loved.

Chapter 6

It has been a long time since Julian and I shared such a beautiful moment.