I arrived at the entrance of a mall where white wedding dresses were displayed in the storefront window; the lights hitting them hurt my eyes.

I stood in front of the window, staring blankly at one of the gowns.

It looked exactly like the one I had planned to wear to my wedding five years ago.

"Dr. Su?"

I turned my head.

Joanne was standing behind me, holding a few wedding dress catalogs.

Liam stood beside her, wearing a dark gray coat, holding two cups of coffee.

"What a coincidence," Joanne walked over with a smile. "Are you here to look at wedding dresses too?"

"Just passing by," I said.

"Come inside and sit for a while; it's cold out here." Joanne had already pushed open the shop door. "Help me give some advice; a man's taste can't be trusted."

Liam’s gaze swept over me, devoid of expression.

He followed Joanne inside. I hesitated at the door for two seconds before following them in.

The bridal shop was large, with crystal chandeliers and white carpets.

Joanne was taken to the fitting room by a clerk, clutching a long-train wedding dress; she looked back at me with a smile. "Dr. Su, go ahead and sit for a moment; I'll be done soon."

Only Liam and I were left on the sofa.

He sat on one end, looking down at his phone. I sat on the other, a distance of two cushions between us.

The shop was very quiet. I gripped my fingers and spoke: "Your fiancée is very beautiful."

He looked up, glanced at me, and said nothing.

I added, "And her personality is very good, too."

His gaze lingered on my face, carrying a hint of coldness.

"What exactly are you trying to say?" he asked.

An indescribable bitterness surged up. I sniffled, forcing it back down. "Nothing. Just that you two are a very good match."

He looked at me and suddenly smiled, but the smile had no warmth.

"Hmm," he said. "At least she wouldn't disappear for no reason, and she wouldn't stand me up at the civil affairs bureau."

It felt like I had been stabbed in the chest.

"That's true," I said, my voice very faint. "She wouldn't run away from the wedding, either."

He stared at me, his gaze like a knife.

I turned my face away, looking at a wedding dress on the wall; tiny pearls were embroidered on the white tulle, and the lights reflecting off them were blindingly bright.

"Are you two legally married?" My questions came one after another. "Where are you planning to hold the wedding?"

His voice grew colder. "Why are you asking these things? What does it have to do with you?"

I didn't know either; perhaps it was because I didn't know which day I might suddenly disappear again.

So I wanted to grasp onto some of his memories and happiness to get through the rest of my life.

I lowered my head so he couldn't see the tears in my eyes. "Just asking."

"Clara." He called my name, his voice very low. "You’ve overstepped."

I looked at him.

He wore a trace of impatience and weariness. "I don't want my fiancée to know about our past, so, that's enough."

That's enough.

"I understand." I smiled, my voice very soft. "We have no past."

He looked at me with heavy eyes for a long time, finally spitting out coldly: "It’s good that you know."

Then he took a sip of his coffee and turned his gaze to the window.

The deathly silence returned between us.

The mirror in the bridal shop reflected our shadows; I saw my own complexion—pale and ugly, like a vengeful ghost.

"I'm going to the restroom," I stood up.

The restroom was at the end of the corridor.

I walked in, closed the door, and leaned against the door panel, finally daring to take a deep breath.

He said, "At least she wouldn't disappear for no reason."

He said, "You’ve overstepped."

He said, "It has nothing to do with you."

Every sentence was lodged in my heart, unable to be pulled out.

My eyes in the mirror were red.

I splashed cold water on my face, waited for a while, and then pushed the door open to leave.

The corridor was long, and the bridal shop lobby was at the end of it.

When I walked back, I saw that Joanne had changed into the dress and was standing in front of the mirror.

Liam stood behind her, the two of them huddled together, discussing something.

Just as I was about to walk over, I heard Joanne say—

"This dress is too tight around the waist; wouldn't that be bad for the baby?"

Chapter 5

I froze at the corner of the corridor. Joanne is pregnant.

She is carrying Liam's child.

This thought hit me like a needle, stabbing in and pinning me to the spot.

My heart felt gripped by something, tightening with every beat, hurting so much I couldn't breathe.

My hand uncontrollably pressed against my lower abdomen—it was empty; there would never be anything there again.

"Dr. Su?" Joanne saw me in the mirror, turned around, and pointed at the garment in the clerk's hand.

"I'm picking out a dress for my sister. Could you help me take a look? Is this one not quite right?"

"My sister is pregnant. She said the waist is too tight and it's not good for the baby, so she asked me to change it."

It's her sister.

My fingers slowly released the hem of my coat.

She only had her pre-marital checkup a week ago; I handled all the reports myself. She isn't pregnant at all.

I panicked. I had actually forgotten the very checkup form I had personally issued.

Whenever it concerns him, I even forget my professional medical judgment.

"It is a bit tight," I said, my voice still trembling slightly. "Change to a looser one."

"I think so too," Joanne told the clerk. "Get me a few more to try, and change the wedding dress too; the strapless style doesn't look good."

She returned to the fitting room, and the lobby grew quiet.

Liam stood in front of the mirror, not looking at me.

I stood at the corner of the corridor, my eyes lowered.

"Clara." He suddenly called my name.

I looked up at him.

He didn't turn around, just stood there, his voice flat. "You don't have to wear that expression every time."

That expression? Which expression? The one where someone gets stabbed and doesn't dare scream in pain?

"I'm not," I said.

He didn't speak again.

When she finished trying on the clothes, Joanne took Liam's arm and looked at me with a smile.

"Sorry to trouble you today, Dr. Su. My sister really likes the clothes you helped pick out. Can I treat you to a meal?"

Liam swept his cold gaze over me again.

I knew when to retreat. "No need. I'll head back; I have things to do tonight."

Joanne sighed with some regret. "Alright then."

She turned to Liam, "Then let's go browse the baby store nearby and buy something for my sister."

Liam gave a hum of acknowledgment and didn't look at me again.

They turned and walked away.

I stood at the shop entrance, watching them walk side by side toward the other end of the mall.

Joanne tilted her head and said something to him; he lowered his head to listen, occasionally responding.

The picture was too natural—so natural it was blinding.

The wind blew in through the mall doors, cold enough to make one shiver.

I turned around and walked in the opposite direction.

Walking alone on the street, the wind made my eyes ache.

It wasn't crying; it was just the wind was too strong.

Until I reached the bus stop and saw an advertisement with a baby printed on it, the tears finally gushed out uncontrollably.

A child. I once had a child, too. With Liam.

But he had died along with my soul in that crime.

That day, when the doctor came out of the operating room, the tone was flat: "The uterus was severely damaged; the possibility of future pregnancy is extremely low."

This was the reason I never dared to look for Liam again; I couldn't even give him a complete family.

But today, when I thought he had a child, I was actually so jealous I wanted to cry.

The holiday ended, and I returned to the hospital. I resumed my duties, put on my lab coat, and wore my mask. Sitting in the office, I acted as if nothing had happened.

In the afternoon, the door to the office was pushed open.

Liam stood at the entrance, holding a red envelope.

"Why are you here?" I asked.

"I'm here for some business," he said, walking in and placing the envelope on the desk. "Dropped by to give you an invitation."

I looked up at him; he remained cold.