I had overestimated my place in Rudy’s heart. I truly deserved to be the laughingstock of the entire city.

Two days later, I completed the discharge process for myself.

In those two days, my phone hadn’t rung once. Not a single call from Rudy, not even a message on Facebook.

I still returned to the Inn, though, because all my belongings were there, including my most important personal documents. I had just arrived home when Rudy, as usual, was supposed to be busy. But to my surprise, he was home early. I was eating dinner when he walked through the door. I stayed seated, not moving, and made no effort to greet him warmly like I used to. Instead, I just looked up briefly and then lowered my head.

Perhaps this change made Rudy uncomfortable. From the corner of my eye, I saw his brow furrow slightly. He tried to hide his displeasure and, with a forced smile, spoke in a voice that was oddly gentle, almost trying too hard:

“Are you back?”

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice flat and devoid of any emotion.

Rudy, thinking I was still angry, wrapped his arm around my waist and leaned in close to my ear. His tone softened as he coaxed me, “I know I messed up with the wedding. Let’s plan another one soon—one that’s grander, more solemn than the first.”

“Here, this is your gift. Don’t be angry anymore.” Rudy handed me a paper bag, his tone trying to be conciliatory.

I glanced at the familiar paper bag with no surprise in my eyes. I knew without looking that it was another new bag from Mitchel’s family.

There’s a room in the villa dedicated solely to the bags Rudy has given me over the years.

Every time Rudy upset me because of Kelsey, he would buy me a new bag to apologize.

Now, with the one in my hands, there were exactly ninety-nine bags, one more away from completely covering an entire wall.

I forced a calm expression, raising the corners of my lips in a small nod. “Okay.”

Rudy let out a quiet sigh of relief, completely oblivious to the fact that my smile didn’t reach my eyes.

Later that night, after I washed up and returned to the bedroom, Rudy noticed the scratches on my arms and knees.

“How did this happen?” His voice was full of concern, and the pity in his eyes seemed almost overwhelming.

But all I could feel was how fake and insincere it seemed.

“It’s nothing. I just accidentally bumped into something,” I replied indifferently.

“Be careful next time. I don’t like seeing you hurt,” Rudy murmured, gently pulling me into his arms, being careful not to touch my wounds.

I wasn’t moved by Rudy’s sweet words. Concerned? Maybe, but that was a long time ago.

There was a time when Rudy truly loved me, when he cared for me with such tenderness, unable to bear seeing me suffer even the slightest grievance. Back then, I felt like the happiest person in the world.

But no matter how strong a relationship is, it can't survive constant strain.

As Kelsey and I argued over and over, Rudy’s patience with me began to wane. He grew more distant, more indifferent, and eventually, his gestures felt hollow, his care more perfunctory.

He gradually turned a blind eye to my sadness, and rather than trying to comfort me, my pain only seemed to tire him.

For love, I compromised in every way I could, bending over backward to accommodate him. But in the end, all I received in return were cycles of disappointment, over and over again.

No matter how passionate the heart is, it will eventually grow cold after enough pain. When disappointment piles up enough, it turns around and walks away.

Rudy lifted a corner of my pajamas, his fingers brushing against the skin of my waist. His intentions couldn’t have been clearer.

I pressed his hand down and said quietly, “I’m tired.”

Rudy studied me with a complicated look. He knew I was making an excuse, but he still pulled his hand away from my waist and murmured, “Go to sleep.”

I tried to pull away from his embrace, but Rudy seemed to sense my movement and tightened his hold. Reluctantly, I lay still in his arms.

There was a time when I thought the warmest thing in the world was Rudy’s embrace. But now, as he held me, all I felt was coldness, not a trace of warmth.

I kept my eyes shut, pretending to sleep, until his breathing grew steady and deep. Once I was sure he was asleep, I carefully slid his arm off me and moved to the edge of the bed.

The space between Rudy and me was so wide that another person could have fit between us, just like the distance that had grown between our hearts—one that could never be bridged.

When I woke up the next morning, breakfast was already laid out on the table.

“Sit down, I made your favorite seafood porridge,” Rudy said, greeting me with his usual attentiveness.

This wasn’t the first time Rudy had made breakfast for me. Seafood porridge had always been my favorite, so Rudy had learned how to make it just for me.

But over time, Rudy became busier, and the porridge became rarer, only appearing when he needed to apologize for something he’d done wrong.

In the past, eating the seafood porridge Rudy had made with his own hands felt like the sweetest thing in the world, from my mouth to my heart.

Now, the porridge in front of me looked the same as it always did, but when I tasted it, it felt empty and tasteless.

“It’s your birthday in three days. Is there any place you want to go or any gift you want?” Rudy asked, his voice full of thoughtfulness.

I shook my head.

Seeing my lack of enthusiasm, Rudy assumed I was still upset about the wedding. After a brief pause, he suggested, “You’ve always wanted to go skiing. I’ll take you skiing that day.”

“Yeah,” I replied, my voice lacking any emotion.

“Alright, I’ll have someone arrange it later,” Rudy said, already dialing his assistant.

When I heard Rudy cancel an important work commitment for me that day, I felt nothing—not a flicker of gratitude or anticipation for my upcoming birthday.

Because by then, I would be gone for good.

After dinner, Rudy prepared to head to work. As usual, he pulled me into his arms and kissed my lips before leaving.

I slightly turned my head, and Rudy's kiss landed on my cheek instead.

He paused for a moment but didn’t think much of it. With a smile, he ruffled my hair. “I’m leaving.”

“Yeah,” I replied, smiling and nodding. But I didn’t tell him to be careful on the road, as I had always done before.

Once Rudy’s figure had completely disappeared from view, the smile faded from my face, and my eyes turned cold.

I grabbed a tissue and wiped away the spot where Rudy had kissed me.

In my mind, I repeated to myself: There are still three days.