Chapter 4

Elara Vance pov

I glanced at the calendar on the nightstand, seeing that special day circled in red. I remembered it was Nate Thorne's birthday.

Just one last try.

I forced myself to endure the stinging pain in my hands and the dizziness from the high fever, working in the kitchen for a whole afternoon.

My fingers, numb from frostbite, wouldn't obey, and the whisk dropped to the floor several times. Each time, I picked it up, washed it clean, and continued.

The cake batter burned twice, but I patiently started over.

By evening, a delicate Black Forest cake was finally complete. It was Nate's favorite flavor from before.

I then dug out old photo albums, selecting a few pictures of us from our youth, and, enduring my trembling hands, made a handmade photo album.

Finally, I gathered my courage and sent Nate a message:

[Nate, I'm waiting for you at our usual spot. I have something I want to tell you.]

After the message sent, I left and went to the riverside restaurant we used to frequent.

I arrived half an hour early, placed the cake and gift on the table, and waited nervously.

Nate was an hour late.

When he pushed open the door, he was dressed in a well-tailored black suit, his eyes stern. Upon seeing the cake on the table, his expression instantly turned extremely grim.

"Did you forget I don't celebrate my birthday after my parents died?"

He said coldly, walking forward and mercilessly knocking over the cake.

The delicate Black Forest cake crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces, cream splattering onto my skirt, but I didn't flinch:

"I know… but after all these years, my parents have died to atone for their mistakes, and I've suffered so much torment…"

My voice trembled, and I looked up at him, with a last sliver of hope,

"Can we let each other go and start over?"

"No!"

Nate answered decisively,

"The torment you've endured is far less than a tenth of what I experienced back then!"

He leaned in close, hands braced on the table, his eyes brimming with immense hatred:

"Elara Vance, because of your parents' drunk driving, I watched my mom, dad, and sister die right in front of me. My loving grandfather saw their bodies and died of a brain hemorrhage from grief. Overnight, my family was destroyed!"

He suddenly reached out and squeezed my chin, his nails almost digging into my flesh:

"You want me to let it go? How can I? Every time I see your face, I remember how my parents died!"

My tears rolled down, hitting his hand:

"I'm sorry… I really…"

"Nate!"

A clear voice interrupted her.

Sera Bloom, wearing a white sweater, ran in, holding a delicate glass jar filled with colorful paper cranes.

"Happy Birthday!"

Her smile was bright, and she handed the jar to Nate, seemingly oblivious to my disheveled state.

"I folded them myself, a thousand of them. From now on, every time you take one out, you can make a wish to me."

Nate froze, his hand clutching my chin abruptly loosening.

My heart felt like it was gripped by an invisible hand, and even my breaths tasted of blood.

This scene was too familiar.

When I was eighteen, I had also given Nate a jar of paper cranes just like this, saying the exact same words.

"Sera…"

Nate's voice was a little hoarse, the hostility in his eyes instantly dissipating.

He took the jar, his fingertips gently tracing the glass surface, his gaze distant.

The next second, he suddenly pulled Sera into a hug, his voice so tender it could drip honey:

"I love this gift. Thank you, Sera."

Sera shot me a triumphant glance, then hugged Nate back:

"As long as you like it."

I sat there, my fingers stroking the neglected handmade photo album, my heart feeling like it was being sliced by a dull knife, instantly a bloody mess.

I hadn't expected that it wasn't someone else who defeated me, but my past self.

Nate would always hate the current me, but deeply loved the girl from his memories.

Watching the two embrace intimately, I didn't have the courage to watch anymore.

I stood up, stumbled out of the restaurant, and drove into the night.

The neon lights outside the car window blurred into a streak, and tears fell uncontrollably.

I wiped them away, but new tears welled up, endless.

I thought I had long since become numb, but it turned out I still felt pain.

Just as the car was about to pass an intersection, a white figure suddenly rushed out from the roadside.