Chapter 1

After witnessing the tragic death of her parents, Elena’s mental development froze at the age of eight, and she began to suffer from severe bipolar disorder.

Her uncle, Arthur, took her in without a second thought and had never uttered a single word of complaint.

That was until Elena stumbled upon a trending local post.

[My brother and sister-in-law died saving me, so I adopted their daughter.]

[But I’m exhausted now. I want to send her abroad and let her fend for herself.]

The comment section was filled with people scolding the original poster, so she chimed in as well.

[You are heartless. My uncle has been taking care of me all these years, and he has never once thought of giving up.]

...

Elena thought her comment would be buried among the thousands of condemnations, but to her surprise, the original poster replied instantly.

[Heartless? They weren’t even my blood relatives; I only took her in because I felt sorry for her at the time.]

[For all these years, my life has been nothing but work and taking care of her. She has a mental illness; she self-harms when she has episodes. I am truly exhausted.]

[I’ve found someone I love now, and I don’t want her to be hurt in the future.]

Seeing the response, she felt a wave of confusion; something felt deeply wrong.

Before she could process it, she heard movement at the entrance.

Without a second thought, Elena dropped her phone and rushed over. "Arthur! I missed you so much!"

Arthur was just taking off his shoes. With his sharp, defined features, he caught her steadily with his strong arms.

His eyes, usually cold and intimidating, were now brimming with a mixture of helplessness and tenderness.

"Elena," he said softly. "I’ve told you, you should call me Uncle."

Ever since she came to live with him at the age of twelve, she had heard those words for twelve years.

But Elena never changed. She clung to his arm. "No!"

Arthur’s brow suddenly furrowed. She realized he was injured and quickly let go.

"Arthur, does your hand still hurt? It’s all my fault..."

Arthur’s eyes filled with complex emotions. "It doesn't hurt. It's healing, so don't blame yourself."

Three days ago, Elena had an episode and started self-harming. Arthur had rushed over to grab the knife and was deeply gashed by her.

She froze as she watched the blood drip onto the floor.

Arthur simply tossed the knife aside and gently pulled her into his arms. "Elena, as long as you're safe, that's all that matters."

Elena touched Arthur’s arm sadly. "I will control myself next time."

Arthur didn't respond to that; he simply pulled her over to the sofa.

"Elena, have you thought about what I said the other day regarding Cassie moving in?"

The name "Cassie" felt like a terrifying trigger, making her tremble all over.

Elena looked at him and whispered, "Arthur, I don’t want her to."

"You promised that no one else would ever come into this home. You gave me your word!"

I fell into an episode and hurt myself precisely because he brought this up, and yet, only three days later, he was bringing it up again.

Is Cassie really that important to him? Does that mean I’m becoming an unwanted child all over again?

Endless panic and anger crowded and crushed Elena's mind, driving her to the brink of madness.

Seeing her state worsening, Arthur’s expression shifted, and he held her tightly in his arms.

"Fine. If you’re not willing, then we’ll drop it."

He coaxed her in a low voice, over and over again, until she stopped shaking and slowly regained her calm.

Elena gripped Arthur’s clothes tightly, as if holding onto the last lifeline in the world.

"Arthur, you said you would stay with me forever. You can't lie to me."

She received no response, hearing only the rhythmic beating of Arthur’s heart against her ear.

After a long while, Arthur picked her up and carried her to the bedroom.

He laid Elena back on the bed and gently wiped away her tear tracks.

"Elena, get some good rest. I’m going to the study to finish some work."

Elena nodded obediently, watching him walk away slowly, feeling a sudden, deep ache in her heart.

She stared blankly at the ceiling when her phone suddenly chimed.

It was a message from Cassie: [Elena, is it really necessary for you to be such a freak and keep clinging to Arthur? It’s disgusting!]

[You deserve the fact that your parents died early. Why didn’t you just die along with them!]

Seeing these shocking words, her heart was in turmoil.

Ever since she met Cassie once, Cassie had added her on WeChat.

Messages like these arrived almost every single day.

Elena didn't want to make Arthur sad, so she had never told him.

But she also refused to let Arthur be deceived by someone like Cassie.

Refusing to let Cassie move in was the only thing she could do.

Elena exited WeChat and clicked back into the thread, where the page refreshed automatically.

Two minutes ago, the original poster had updated the content.

[Is it really worth giving up the person I love for someone who isn't even blood-related?]

The characters on the screen suddenly felt like poisonous needles, making her eyes ache.

Perhaps because the original poster’s painful struggle felt all too real, someone in the comments offered advice.

[After taking care of a mentally ill patient for seven years, you’ve already done more than enough.]

[I won't judge you, but I suggest you ask her if she has any last wishes? Fulfill them for her.]

[Consider it a chance for both of you to part on good terms, so you won't owe each other anything anymore.]

This comment was pushed to the top. Elena stared at the line of text, her palms sweating with inexplicable tension.

Soon, the original poster’s reply appeared beneath that comment: [Thank you.]

The next second, footsteps sounded outside, and Arthur stood at the doorway.

His voice was low and gentle: "Elena, is there any special wish you’ve been wanting to come true?"

Chapter 2

The words landed softly, yet they struck her ears like a thunderclap.

Elena looked up at him abruptly, her fingers instinctively clutching her still-glowing phone, her fingertips turning icy cold.

The comment in the post about "fulfilling her final wishes so they could part ways on good terms" and Arthur’s gentle inquiry before her overlapped perfectly, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle.

The person who made that post was Arthur. He had already decided to cast her aside.

This realization pierced through Elena’s chaotic mind like an ice pick.

Seeing her frozen, Arthur naturally reached out to touch her forehead.

"What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?"

Elena recoiled as if electrocuted, dodging his hand.

Arthur’s brows furrowed imperceptibly, but he stubbornly reached out to touch her forehead anyway.

"No fever. Did you eat something that upset your stomach tonight?"

His tenderness was no different from any other day, yet Elena could hear the trembling in her own voice.

It sounded like a spiderweb about to shatter in the wind.

"Arthur, why did you suddenly ask that?"

Arthur withdrew his hand and took the opportunity to rub his temples.

Soon, he replied, "You’ve been down lately, and I wanted to do something to cheer you up."

Elena’s heart felt as if it had been submerged in winter seawater—cold and heavy.

Was the "happiness" Arthur wanted to give her just a way to fulfill her wishes so they could be finished with each other?

Elena lowered her head, not daring to look at him; she did not want to see those eyes, once filled only with tenderness, stained with the intent of abandonment.

Her nails dug deep into her palms, the pain helping her concentrate just a little.

Elena’s voice was very faint. "If I have many wishes, is that okay, too?"

Like a child pestering a toy store clerk, she naively thought that stalling would be of some use.

Elena thought, if she had enough wishes—so many that they could never be fulfilled—would he be unable to abandon her forever?

Arthur was silent for a moment before he chuckled indulgently. "Of course."

"Then, what is your first wish?"

Elena looked up at Arthur, who was waiting patiently.

Her voice was hoarse. "I want you to cook a meal for me. Arthur, you haven't sat down and had a proper meal with me in a long time."

A flicker of surprise flashed in Arthur’s eyes.

Was it guilt, or hesitation? She couldn't tell.

Elena simply followed him as he walked into the kitchen.

He put on an apron, washed the vegetables, and chopped them, his movements practiced. The warm, yellow light cast a glow on his profile, and his high, straight bridge of the nose cast a small shadow under his lower eyelids.

He was always very serious whenever he cooked for Elena.