Chapter 7

Elara Vance POV

Screech.

A nurse pushing a medical cart down the hallway masked my faint voice.

At the same time, the examination room door opened.

The doctor removed his mask. "The child needs to be hospitalized. Please, parents, follow me to the office to discuss the treatment plan."

Ethan glanced at me, a look of hesitation on his face, but ultimately said nothing and followed the doctor out.

I looked at Leo, already asleep on the hospital bed, then turned and left.

The cold wind was bleak.

I returned home, ate the takeout that had been delivered, and went to sleep.

For a long time after that, I locked myself in the basement to write.

Several times, nosebleeds dripped onto my keyboard, or my headache was so severe that I had to take several packets of morphine powder to relieve it.

Due to the side effects, my complexion worsened, and my sleep became increasingly scarce.

My only comfort was the occasional faint sounds of Ethan cooking.

I would also go to the hospital to see Leo, but I never stayed for long.

Until this day, when my novel was almost finished, I decided to take a break and went to the hospital.

The snow in early January was heavy, covering me from head to toe.

As soon as I entered the ward, I heard Leo's cheerful voice. "Ms. Vance, you're here!"

Ethan, who was peeling an apple, looked up, a slight frown on his brow.

We hadn't seen each other in days, and I had lost even more weight.

I placed the toy I was holding on the table and gently ruffled Leo's hair. "I'll be leaving soon. I'm busy with my manuscript."

Ethan said nothing, just split the apple in half.

He gave one half to Leo and offered the other to me.

Looking at the apple, I hesitated for a moment before taking it, then handed it to Leo.

A flicker of almost imperceptible stiffness crossed Ethan's face.

After playing with Leo for half an hour, I prepared to leave.

"The snow's getting heavy. I'll drive you back."

Ethan also stood up, grabbing his coat from the sofa.

Sensing he had something to say, I didn't refuse.

We walked in the cold wind, the dim streetlights casting two parallel shadows.

Ethan spoke in a low voice. "You look so drawn."

My voice was hoarse. "Didn't sleep well..."

As I spoke, my foot caught on a stone, and I stumbled.

He quickly steadied me, his voice tight, tinged with helplessness. "Watch your step."

I turned to look at him. In a daze, I felt like I was back in some afternoon years ago.

Swaying tree shadows, blue and white school uniforms, and a boy gently blowing on my scraped knee after a fall.

"Clumsy. Why do you always trip?"

Back then, I would playfully throw myself into his arms, and he would wholeheartedly dote on me...

I came back to reality, pulling free from Ethan's hand. "Thanks."

Ethan looked at me. "Leo's treatment over the past month has been positive. I'll be sending him home tomorrow, and his follow-up treatment will continue there."

I froze.

Had it really been a month already? I felt like only a few days had passed...

I asked, "Not renewing the lease?"

"No."

Hearing his low response, I gave a bitter laugh to myself.

It was probably for the best that he left. After all, from the day of our divorce, our lives had already diverged.

The next day.

I pulled an all-nighter. The following morning, after submitting the rest of my manuscript to the editor, I left the basement and went to the living room.

Ethan was coming downstairs, carrying a suitcase.

I leaned against the counter, quietly sipping coffee, my gaze sweeping over the empty living room.

The toys and fairy tales that had been everywhere were gone. The kitchen no longer held the familiar smell of cooking. The house looked as if they had never been here.

It wasn't until he got into the car that Ethan, who had been silent, looked towards me at the door. Something in his deep, night-like eyes seemed on the verge of spilling out.

"Take care of yourself. We're leaving."

Leo, in the back seat, waved sweetly at me. "Bye, Ms. Vance!"

I wanted to say goodbye, but my throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I could only manage a muffled "Mmm."

Watching the car slowly disappear, a destructive emptiness, like a strange fishing net in the open sea, tangled around me, tightening with every struggle.

I gazed into the distance, my slightly red eyes filled with a sense of loss.

Four years ago, I had left without a word the day after the divorce, exiling myself to this chaotic city. Occasionally, I would fantasize that Ethan would regret it, that he would search for me like a madman.

But it was laughable; he had lived a very happy life these past four years.

Was I unwilling to accept it? Of course, but I couldn't control the part of my heart that still wished him peace and happiness.

I closed the door and returned to the basement.

I took out the last cigarette from the pack, lit it, and typed a message on my social media.

"Final book complete. Thank you for your companionship. This is my last."

After posting, I shut down my computer.

I pulled open a drawer and took out a cold, gleaming handgun.

Click!

A soft sound, a bullet chambered.

Suddenly, my phone rang.

It was Ethan.

After a moment of hesitation, I answered.

"Did you leave something behind?"

"Can I keep the house? I might renew the lease."

Listening to his deep voice, my eyes dimmed slightly. "I'm sorry, I plan to sell it."

I paused, then added, "I forgot to tell you earlier, have a safe trip. I wish you and your loved one eternal happiness."

Those words came from my heart.

Perhaps from the moment I heard from Leo that Ethan had a happy family, I had already let go.

Ethan asked, "Where are you going?"

My voice was desolate. "Maybe England, maybe Australia... Ethan, in the future, I'll also have a happy family and adorable children. It won't be any worse than yours."

This was the beautiful dream I was weaving for myself in my final moments.

If there was a next life, I wanted to live it this way.

A stable relationship, so perfect that no flaws or mistakes could be found.

No illness, and no agony for love.

The man on the other end of the phone was silent for a long time before giving a hoarse reply.

"Then, I wish you all the best."

"Thank you. Goodbye."

I placed my phone face down on the table, tears silently falling onto the dark muzzle of the gun.

A long while later, I looked at the cigarette burned down between my fingers, extinguished it, then took out paper and pen, writing my will little by little.