My mind was completely absorbed by the details of the case files, constantly wrestling with their complexities.

It felt like someone had interrupted me in the middle of solving a problem, and I was growing increasingly agitated.

“I’m too busy!”

Scott, a genius painter, was known for his works being snapped up at high prices as soon as they were exhibited.

I had once foolishly believed that my genuine love could be exchanged for a genuine return. I wanted to understand his world better, hoping that my sincerity would be reciprocated.

But he had always refused to make our relationship public, claiming it would hurt his young female fans' purchasing power.

Once, I had secretly gone to one of his exhibitions, hoping to surprise him on his birthday.

When he saw me, he turned his back and refused to acknowledge me.

I waited outside the gallery like a fool until it closed.

The security guard had to shoo me away, laughing at my foolishness. I felt like a discarded clown.

When I cried about it later at home, he looked at me with contempt.

“You, with your lack of understanding of art, what do you know?”

Now, he was breaking with tradition by inviting me to his exhibition. In the past, I would have been thrilled.

Scott seemed taken aback by my refusal, especially since I had expressed a desire to attend his exhibitions many times before.

He bit his lip as if making a monumental effort.

“Lillian, are you really not coming? This exhibition will be broadcast live. I planned to announce our relationship to the world.”

I had dreamed countless times of Scott declaring my presence in a grand, romantic way.

Now, hearing him say it, my heart felt as cold and still as a dead sea.

“Forget it. I’m just a mundane person who doesn’t understand your art. I wouldn’t want to interfere with your future.”

I repeated his words back to him verbatim.

“Lillian, what are you being so dramatic about?”

“Once this opportunity is gone, it won’t come back. Don’t regret it later!”

For the first time, I was standing my ground and repeatedly refusing him.

It finally made him angry and desperate.

Scott, I’m not being dramatic. I’ve simply stopped loving you.

The next morning, Scott surprisingly prepared breakfast.

“Since your hand isn’t up for much, I made something simple. Try it out.”

It felt like the sun had risen in the west.

Normally, I was the one up early making breakfast, while he slept in well past noon.

“Thanks,” I replied coolly, taking it as repayment for my previous efforts.

I sat down and ate the rather bland meal, the silence between us stretching like an endless divide.

“Do you need to go out today?”

Scott finally broke the silence.

“Yes, I have to discuss rehabilitation training.”

Scott immediately seized the opportunity.

“I’ll drive you.”

I looked up, meeting his gaze.

“Aren’t you worried about being seen by fans?”

Back when I worked my previous job, arriving and leaving were routine.

Occasionally, if I worked late or had an urgent situation, other women had family pick them up.

I used to envy them and had asked Scott to do the same for me.

“Lillian, I’m a public figure. What would people think if they saw me going in and out of the police station with you?”

I knew it was just another excuse.

He had taken Hannah to all sorts of public places without a second thought.

Even when people mistook them for a couple, he never bothered to clarify.

“No need, I’ll just take a cab!” I insisted.

Scott, in a huff, snatched my phone and stopped me from calling a taxi.

“Fine, let’s take my car then. At least it’s less noticeable,” I suggested.

Scott silently accepted the compromise.

At the hospital for the rehab consultation, Scott stayed by my side the whole time.

As the appointment was wrapping up, the doctor joked, “So, is this your boyfriend? He’s so considerate and patient.”

I smiled.

Patience was the one thing Scott had never shown me.

He could spend days without eating or drinking for a piece of art, but his patience with me barely lasted a minute.

“He’s just a friend,” I said.

Scott’s expression faltered for a moment.

I remembered a time when we were out for dinner, and one of his long-time fans spotted us.

He had been quick to clarify then, “Just friends!”

I was just mimicking his past behavior. There’s no need to make a fuss.

With a wave of complex cases, Sheriff Chase ordered me to work through my injury.

Each day was consumed by sifting through case files and analyzing evidence.

The only respite came during meals.

“Wow, this artist is incredibly gifted. At such a young age, he’s already made a significant mark in the art world.”

“I had no idea he and his girlfriend were college sweethearts. That’s such a juicy detail! I’ll show this to my wife and see if it curbs her habit of buying his paintings now that their relationship is public.”

I glanced at the screen, where Scott’s art exhibition was being live-streamed. His works were selling like hotcakes.

Towards the end, Hannah appeared on stage holding a painting.

The piece depicted a serene moonlit scene, with a young woman, almost angelic, gazing at a white gardenia in the painting.

The title read “Love.”

The crowd was captivated, eagerly bidding on the painting.

But Hannah simply smiled and looked affectionately at Scott.

“Not for sale, no amount of money can buy it!”

The livestream went wild, with people speculating about Hannah’s identity.

Soon, the news of the artist’s relationship was trending.

I glanced down at my meal and smiled quietly to myself.

After all, these sentimental paintings couldn’t compare to the real value of my work: giving a voice to the voiceless and seeking justice for the dead!

Hannah updated her social media with a new post:

“From now on, no matter how high the mountains or how long the roads, you’ll always be my warm harbor. That’s what love must mean!”

I deleted Hannah’s account without a second thought.

Late that night, Scott called me.

“Lillian, where are you? Why aren’t you home yet?”