The mountainside had collapsed, and my boyfriend, who was out sketching, was missing.

I joined the rescue team, and we dug for three days and nights. Completely exhausted and on the brink of collapse, I finally passed out.

The next day, when I woke up, I found a post from him on his dream lover's social media.

“I was so scared after seeing the news, but I’m so glad to have you by my side!”

In the photo, he was blissfully enjoying life, admiring his dream lover's radiant beauty.

I glanced at my own arm in a cast and silently typed a reply.

“Some people are just so pretentious!”

“And if the dog licked you, don’t forget to get a rabies shot!”

——

The day after I woke up in the hospital, my boyfriend, Scott Carter, finally remembered to call me back.

He had been missing since he went out sketching, and his destination had experienced a landslide.

I couldn't reach him and had gone into a frenzy, calling and texting him non-stop. Eventually, I led a rescue team, doing everything I could to find him.

During that time, I’d sent him updates about my own situation.

I expected at least some words of comfort from him.

But when he called me, I could hear his anger and frustration through the phone.

The day after I woke up in the hospital, my boyfriend, Scott Carter, finally remembered to call me back. He had been missing since he went out sketching, and his destination had experienced a landslide. I couldn't reach him and had gone into a frenzy, calling and texting him non-stop. Eventually, I personally led a rescue team, doing everything I could to find him.

During that time, I’d sent him updates about my own situation. I expected at least some words of comfort from him. But when he spoke, I could hear his anger and frustration through the phone.

“Lillian, why are you cursing people on social media?”

“Hannah is a college friend of mine. She just asked me to help with a portrait, and you’re going off on her like that?”

“You’ve got such a dirty mind that you see everything as filthy!”

“Get it together and apologize to Hannah!”

Not a word about how I’d been during those three days of rescue.

“Scott, I was injured during the rescue…”

Before I could finish, he cut me off.

“You only went on this rescue mission because you’re bored. It’s good you got hurt. Maybe it’ll keep you from shadowing me all the time and giving me no space!”

“Scott, do you like how this sketch turned out?”

The voice of Hannah Levine, sweet and girlish, came through the phone.

“Hold on, I’m coming right now!”

Scott quickly hung up the phone.

On the fifth day of my hospital stay, with my right arm in a cast, I was finally ready to be discharged.

Scott finally decided to reach out.

“When are you coming home? Let’s make some homemade pasta tonight.”

The silent battle was over at last.

In our relationship, he was always the one in control.

He’d shower me with affection when he was happy and pull away into cold silence when he wasn’t.

And I was expected to be at his beck and call, with no right to refuse.

In the past, during our silent treatments, I would anxiously await any sign of reconciliation.

But now, a profound sense of exhaustion washed over me, making everything feel pointless.

“Get ready to leave!”

Maybe feeling a twinge of guilt, he called and said he’d pick me up in forty minutes.

I canceled my hospital meal service and waited from dawn until nightfall.

Scott never showed up and didn’t call again.

Just like so many times before, he disappeared without a word, as if it were nothing out of the ordinary.

As I got into a cab with my arm in a cast, I saw that Hannah had updated her social media.

“You’re like a treasure, always surprising me. I can’t wait to see what else there is to discover…”

In the photo, Scott was wearing an apron, pretending to make homemade pasta.

The hands I once cherished and was reluctant to let do any household chores were now busy preparing a meal for another woman.

I managed a silent smile, but the weariness surged back, clinging to me like a shadow.

The allure of the dream lover was truly formidable, and all I could do was watch from the sidelines.

I struggled to open the door with my uninjured arm.

The apartment still looked the same as when I’d rushed out for the rescue mission.

Scott still hadn’t returned.

Hungry and unable to use my injured hand, I was afraid of burning myself, so I could only manage to make a bowl of instant noodles with lukewarm water.

As I took a bite, tears began to flow uncontrollably.

They started as a trickle and soon turned into a steady stream.

I hadn’t cried when he was missing, I hadn’t cried while leading the rescue team, I hadn’t cried when everyone urged me to stay strong, and I hadn’t cried when a falling rock hit my arm, causing excruciating pain.

Now, with him safe and me finally discharged, I suddenly found myself unable to hold back the tears, overwhelmed by an emotional storm.

Sheriff Chase, the lead investigator, sent a message.

“Doctor Lillian, are you sure you don’t want to return to the forensic team?”

From a young age, driven by a strong sense of justice, I had always wanted to become a skilled forensic pathologist.

I pursued forensic science in college and, after graduation, joined the police department as a frontline forensic expert, helping to crack major cases.

That was until I met Scott.

To align with his preferences and to keep a regular routine with him, I transferred to an administrative role.

“When you first joined, you were incredibly dedicated. You’re the golden right hand with a sharp eye for details. It’s a shame to lose that talent. With the team short-handed now, have you thought about coming back?”

Sheriff Chase, not usually one for smooth talk, was doing his best to convince me.

“Sheriff Chase, my arm is injured, and it’s uncertain if I’ll ever be able to handle that scalpel again.”

Sheriff Chase quickly set up a video call to get more details about my condition.

“Doctor Lillian, I just spoke with some experts. With the right rehabilitation, you should be able to return to your work.”

“Would you consider going through rehab?”

“Yes, I want to come back!”

Sheriff Chase was overjoyed.

“Great! While you’re recovering, you could review some of our recent challenging cases and offer your insights.”

Over the years, I had given up my career and dreams, holding onto the hope of a warm home with Scott.

But even that small dream was shattered.

Though life had already passed the halfway mark, it was not too late. I still wanted to find that person who once reached for the stars with all their heart.

I dug out my old, carefully kept notes and started revisiting my forensic and anatomy studies. Lost in the work I loved, I felt time flew by.

I barely noticed when Scott came in.

“What are you reading, Lillian?”

I looked up and saw a brief flash of distaste in Scott’s eyes.

Early in our relationship, I had once read through my notes in front of him.

At that time, he had covered his mouth and backed away.

“Lillian, how can you be into this? Just looking at it made me lose my appetite for the rest of the day.”

I had been deeply in love with him and had indulged his every whim without question. After that, I never mentioned my work or looked at my notes in his presence.

Now, I faced him directly, no longer avoiding the topic.

“I’m reviewing some professional notes. When did you get back?”

I blinked, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction despite my tired eyes.

“So you ignored my calls just to read this?”

His voice was tinged with irritation and anger.

I didn’t get why he was so upset. Missing one call was a minor issue. He frequently ignored mine, and yet he was enraged now.

It was truly baffling.

I stood up and began searching for my phone, which I had misplaced somewhere.

“What's wrong with your arm?”

It was only then that Scott noticed my arm in a cast.

“It was hit by a falling rock, but it’s no big deal now.”

Scott unconsciously touched his nose, probably feeling a bit guilty, and made a move to touch me.

I subtly stepped back, sidestepping him as I headed for the door.

His hand dropped to his side, and he spoke with a touch of frustration.

“That day, Hannah said she wanted to go sketching in the mountains, but halfway there, she changed her mind.”

“I meant to tell you…”

I gave him a wry smile. He had plenty of opportunities to respond to me that day, even if it was just a single sentence.

When the accident first happened, his phone was still on, but no one answered.

Later, it was just off.

Now, his pale excuses seemed like a cruel joke.

As soon as our eyes met, he quickly looked away, pressing his lips together as he changed the subject.

“Hannah called today, saying she had a cooking mishap, so I went over to help. She knew I loved homemade noodles, so she insisted on making them for me as a thank you.”

“But she’s not exactly a great cook, so it ended up being me…”

As he spoke, a smile of affection and satisfaction crept onto his face.

I stopped in my tracks, turned back, and quietly stared at him.

His high nose bridge, long lashes, and deep, dark eyes always seemed to be filled with a kind of tender affection, even when looking at a dog.

I had been lost in those eyes for five years.

But now, I felt weary.

“She can’t cook, and it’s okay you’re much better,” I said.

He stopped mid-sentence, staring at me in confusion, as if he couldn’t understand why I was so calm.

If this were before, I would have been hysterical, demanding he do the same for me, as if that would prove my place in his heart.

“Lillian, why are you speaking like that? Hannah and I aren’t…”

“I’m not thinking anything! You’re college friends and kindred spirits. If you wanted to be together, what does it have to do with me?”

“I don’t care. Do whatever you want!”

“I’ve got an injured arm and can’t sleep well. From now on, I’m sleeping in the guest room!”

“Get some rest. Good night!”

Without waiting for a response, I closed the guest room door behind me.

I heard the sound of a door slamming outside. Scott was angry again.

He probably thought I was ungrateful for not playing along with his game.

In his eyes, I must have been a walking mistake.

Whether I was hysterical or composed, it didn’t make a difference to him.