Chapter 5

Joanna's POV

I interrupted her. "Grace, we're all adults. If you can't bear to lose Ethan, you can pursue him, but there's no need to put me down."

Grace looked angry.

I didn't look at her again. I walked out.

In the living room, Ethan had just returned from seeing off friends. He ran right into me.

He glanced at the kitchen, then at my face.

"They drank too much just now. What they said... don't take it to heart."

I looked at him, silent for a few seconds. "Ethan, I saw the photo album on your bookshelf."

The air in the living room seemed to freeze.

"Every single photo is of Grace. Every one has something you wrote on the back." My voice was steady. "'Day 47, missing you.' 'If you come back, I definitely won't let go again.'"

Ethan looked flustered. He tried to grab my wrist, but I dodged. "Joanna, let me explain. That was just-"

"No need to explain." I cut him off.

Ethan stubbornly grabbed my hand.

"Joanna," his voice was tight, "let's talk."

"Ethan!"

Grace came out of the kitchen holding up her hand, her voice urgent. "I just accidentally cut my finger. It's bleeding a lot. Quick, look at it for me. Will the injury affect my ability to do surgery later?"

Blood was seeping between her fingers.

Ethan immediately released my wrist and strode toward Grace.

I stood there, looking down at my released wrist.

Red marks still remained, but they'd fade quickly.

Just like all my traces of him.

I glanced at the two of them, then turned and went upstairs.

The injury on my ankle still hadn't healed. The bandage was wrapped tightly. Going up the stairs, I had to grip the railing hard.

With Ethan comforting Grace as background noise, when I reached the fourth step, the bandage accidentally caught on a metal strip.

I didn't have time to react. My foot slipped, and I fell heavily backward.

That already-swollen foot twisted violently.

Sharp pain shot through me.

I bit my lip. I didn't make a sound.

Ethan's voice came from the living room. "What happened?"

He walked two steps in this direction, then was called back.

"Ethan, I'm still bleeding. Help me first."

The footsteps stopped.

I bit my lip, slowly standing up while supporting myself against the wall.

My left foot couldn't bear any weight at all. The ankle had swollen so much it was about to burst through the bandage.

I pulled out my phone and dialed emergency services. "Hello, my ankle is injured. I need an ambulance."

Ethan finally came over, his expression terrible. "I'll take you."

"No need."

As soon as I finished speaking, a siren sounded outside.

The paramedics came in and helped me onto the stretcher.

From beginning to end, I didn't let him touch me once.

Forty minutes later, I finished treatment and hobbled out of the clinic on crutches.

Ethan stood waiting for me in the corridor.

"Joanna." He blocked my path. "What's wrong with you tonight? Why are you being so cold? If you're angry, just say so. I can change, can't I?"

I stopped and looked at him.

The corridor light was very white. Anxiety and confusion showed in his eyes.

"Ethan," I said, "haven't you always hated it when I lose my temper?"

Ethan froze.

"Every time I came to you about Grace, you said I was too sensitive. You said I should be more mature, stop being unreasonable."

He opened his mouth but couldn't speak.

"Now I'm mature." I looked at him, my voice very soft. "I'm not losing my temper anymore. I can solve my own problems without troubling you."

I paused.

"Isn't this what you always wanted?"