Pausing for a beat, he went on, "At the very least, not right now."

The distant sound of traffic filtered into the patient room, sounding exceptionally clear in the absolute silence of the space.

Listening to Ethan's resolute tone, a complex mixture of emotions welled up within me, leaving me feeling even more utterly powerless.

This man had never once granted me the opportunity to make my own choices.

Chapter 21

That afternoon.

Inside a detention cell at the local police precinct.

A police officer pushed the door open, walking straight over to unlock Melanie's handcuffs. "You are free to go."

Melanie, who had been pacing around in pure anxiety, froze in shock. "What? I can leave?"

"That's right."

The officer offered no further details. After delivering a brief lecture and instructing her to sign the paperwork, he escorted her out of the building.

The exact moment she stepped out of the precinct, Melanie felt as though she had miraculously escaped from the jaws of death.

However, once her mind relaxed, a thread of doubt couldn't help but surface.

Given Ethan's ruthless nature that demanded absolute retribution for any slight, how could he possibly let her off the hook this easily?

Yet when she caught wind that she was able to be released this quickly precisely because Ethan chose not to press charges, her anxious heart settled right back into its place.

Melanie tilted her chin upward, reclaiming her usual haughty demeanor.

It appeared that Ethan didn't love Clara all that much after all; instead, he still maintained some lingering regard for the past bond between them.

Right then, her phone began to ring loudly.

Glancing down at the screen, a flash of pure rage instantly surged through her system.

Melanie sprinted across the street before she dared to accept the call, unleashing a torrent of abuse right off the bat: "Liam, you absolute bastard! Do you have any idea that you nearly got me killed?!"

A contemptuous sneer echoed from the other end of the line: "You managed to siphon ten million dollars out of the company, yet you refused to grant me even a measly five hundred thousand. You brought this entirely on yourself."

Hearing this, Melanie's fury turned completely uncontainable.

She cast a cautious glance at her surroundings, dropping her voice to a harsh whisper: "You are fully aware that I used every cent of that ten million to settle my debts! Where on earth would I find any remaining money?"

"What, you can't return to the company anymore?"

"...Not for the time being."

Thinking of the five million dollars she still owed to the underground casino, combined with the fact that the repayment deadline was less than a month away, Melanie felt a toxic mixture of irritation and raw terror.

Just as she was frantically plotting how to reclaim Ethan's trust, she heard Liam speak up once more: "Ethan isn't the only corporate executive you are acquainted with. You might as well use his reputation as a springboard to cozy up to some other wealthy bosses."

Hearing these words, Melanie froze.

As her thoughts spun rapidly, a dark, venomous gleam flashed across her features.

Darkness steadily claimed the sky.

Having slept through the entire afternoon, I slowly drifted awake.

Surveying the patient room, Ethan was nowhere to be seen, but his long winter coat still rested on the table.

Operating almost like a basic instinct, a thread of worry crossed my mind, wondering if he would catch a chill in such freezing weather.

The moment my conscious mind registered the thought, I quickly banished that redundant concern, which I should have discarded a long time ago.

The dry, parched sensation in my throat forced my gaze toward the glass of water resting on the table.

With my right hand connected to the IV drip, I could only do my best to stretch my left arm across the gap.

Everything from my waist down felt as though it were completely locked in ice; that hollow, unfeeling lack of sensation caused a wave of deep unease to ripple through my core.

Lost in a daze, the hand that had just brushed against the rim of the glass suddenly trembled.

"Crash!"

The piercing sound of shattering glass exploded through the quiet patient room.

In almost the exact same fraction of a second, a desperate cry of "Clara!" accompanied the sudden appearance of Ethan's silhouette rushing through the door.

Catching sight of my left arm hanging limply over the edge, and realizing I had merely shattered a glass, he finally let out a heavy sigh of relief.

He poured a fresh glass of water, scooping up a spoonful to feed me.

However, I simply stared fixedly at his features, showing absolutely no intention of drinking.

Ethan's brows knit slightly. "What's wrong?"

Staring at the man standing before me—the one I had loved with everything I had, and the one who had systematically shattered my soul—my heart was a tangled mass of complex emotions.

"Ethan."

Calling his full name for the second time in my life, it still carried a profound sense of foreignness.

Ethan offered a soft grunt of assent, waiting patiently for my next sentence.

Amidst the slightly frozen atmosphere, I parted my lips once more: "I am afflicted with ALS. There is no cure. Moving forward, I will be entirely unable to take care of my own basic needs, and I will likely meet my end in a few short years."

Ethan's hand wrapped around the glass tightened significantly. "I know."

"My child and my mother both met their deaths because of the friction between us."

"I know."

The voices of both individuals steadily dropped into a raspy whisper, a quiet storm swirling beneath the surface calm.

The corners of my eyes turned a sharp crimson as I delivered each syllable like a heavy blow: "Then do you have any concept of exactly how much I hate you?"

Chapter 22

It is unclear whether it was due to the lingering chill of late winter or my words, but the temperature in the patient room suddenly plummeted.

Dr. Chen, who had been speaking to Ethan outside the door, saw the standoff between the two of us and turned to leave.

In the silence, Ethan felt as though every heartbeat was being hammered heavily by a drumstick.

How could he not know that I hated him? It was just that, at this very moment, he was fundamentally unable to answer.

Looking at the silent man, my nose stung with bitterness.

I should have said this a long time ago.

"My mother once said that a one-sided marriage cannot last, and love is the same; there are some people whom you can never catch up to no matter how hard you run, and he will never look back."

I suppressed the pain in my heart. "I am tired, and I ask that you stop coming to disturb me."

After a few seconds of silence, Ethan spoke in a steady tone: "Finished?"

Seeing that he wasn't angry, and hadn't even frowned, I couldn't help but be stunned.

I find him increasingly difficult to predict.

Ethan sat down slowly. Compared to the cold, oppressive pressure he used to exert, he was slightly gentler now.

"I don't want to make any excuses for myself. You can hate me, curse at me, hit me, or even publicize my heinous conduct toward you, but I will only say this one thing: until that time comes, I will take good care of you."

Every word and every sentence was poured out with an attitude of complete sincerity.

I stared at him in a daze, unable to believe that these words were coming from his mouth.

After a long while, I finally moved my gaze away and said nothing.

Her indifference made Ethan's heart tremble.

Only now did he realize that compared to my scolding and resentment, he feared my indifference even more.

His hand, which he had tried to reach out with, froze in the air, only to be put down desolately in the end.

"I'll go buy you something to eat."

Placing the straw into the cup and setting the cup where I could reach it, Ethan departed.

Listening to the chaotic sound of his retreating footsteps, I looked at the water cup, my eyes gradually dimming.

...

After that, Ethan stayed by my side almost constantly, but for an entire month, I only said a few words to him.

Whenever he brought up the topic of our relationship, I would close my eyes to rest.

Even when it came to his father's expressions of concern, I would only give a simple nod.

The snow had long since melted, but the evening breeze still carried the chill of winter.

Downstairs from the inpatient building, the streetlights were dim and yellow.

Ethan stood under the light, several extinguished cigarette butts lying at his feet.

He exhaled a ring of smoke, his slightly red eyes fixed on the window of my patient room.