It was the same beetroot soup I used to pester Caleb's housekeeper to make for me when I was a child.

"Does it still hurt?" Caleb asked. He blew on the spoon until the steam thinned, then held it to my lips. "I was out of line yesterday. Don't take it to heart. But Layla really didn't do anything wrong. Stop going after her."

My fingers trembled slightly as I took the bowl from him.

In my previous life, I would have burst into tears, screaming that Layla had framed me and insisting the engagement be called off at once.

But now, I just shook my head. "I won't do it again."

Caleb let out a breath of relief, a rare softness flickering in his eyes. "Once you're discharged, we can travel overseas. You always said you wanted to—"

"No," I cut in, gently pushing the bowl back toward him. "I chose to help Layla. You don't need to make it up to me."

His hand trembled around the spoon, the injury he got saving me from that cliff fall acting up again.

I looked at his pale knuckles, my throat tightening. "You hurt your hand because of me. Do you regret it?"

"If it had been anyone else, I would've done the same," he said quietly. He dropped his gaze and stirred the soup. The thin steam rising from the bowl blurred his expression.

So, there really was nothing special about me. Tears prickled hot behind my eyes.

"I grew up with no parents, always longing for a home of my own. That's why I forced you into marrying me. I must have been such a burden. I know I made your life harder," I said.

But from that day onward, it would all end. He wouldn't have to give up the woman he loved for my sake or be pushed into a marriage he didn't want.

Those 12 years of torment wouldn't have happened, and he wouldn't have died at 31 because of me.

In this lifetime, he would finally get to live a happy life.

I thought I saw Caleb tense, looking suddenly uneasy. He was about to say something when a nurse rushed in.

"Mr. Vale, Ms. Shaw is awake! She keeps asking for you!"

Caleb shot to his feet, the hem of his suit jacket brushing the edge of my bed.

I looked at his tall, straight back and couldn't help letting out a small laugh. "Caleb."

He turned, and I pulled the wedding invitation from under my pillow and nudged it toward him.

"I hope you and Layla are happy," I said softly. "This time, I really won't cling to you."

Caleb glanced at the wedding invitation, clearly anxious to leave. "Wait for me to come back."

"Caleb," I called again, trying my best to give him a bright smile. "I'm sorry. And I hope everything goes smoothly for you from now on. I hope you live a long, peaceful life."

He looked genuinely startled, even a little uneasy. "Why are you talking like that? I'm just going to check on Layla. I'll be back soon. Just stay here and wait for me. When I get back, there's something I want to tell you."

Then, he turned and walked out.

It was getting close to 9:00 am. I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood.

The doctor came by to check on me. After he finished, I gave him a grateful smile.

"Thank you. Could you please tell Caleb that I've gone abroad? Ask him to take care of himself and not worry about me."

...

After checking on Layla, Caleb hurried back to my room.

But when he pushed open the door, he found the bed empty. His face went tight as he turned to the nurse at the station.

"Where's Ms. Wynne? She's still recovering. Where did she go?"

Before the nurse could answer, his assistant, Owen Price, rushed in and urgently said, "Mr. Vale, something's happened! Ten minutes ago, Ms. Wynne was in a car accident. She lost a lot of blood, and the hospital's blood bank was empty. They tried to save her, but she still didn't make it!"