At night, although Lydia's fever had subsided, her body started heating up again.

In that hazy state between sleep and wakefulness, she vaguely sensed someone pushing the door open and stepping into the room, staring at her.

She struggled to open her eyes, trying to see who it was-but no matter how hard she tried, their face stayed blurry.

People always think too much when they're sick.

Once again, Lydia recalled how strangely Henry had behaved that night. The frustration welled up in her chest, and she couldn't help thinking about her long-deceased parents. Almost unconsciously, she started mumbling their names.

Completely unaware that the very person on her mind was now standing right by the bed.

Henry stood there, towering, cold as ice. His gaze bore down on Lydia, whose cheeks were tinted with an unhealthy flush.

His expression was tight, one hand buried in his pocket, the other gripping his cane a little too hard.

Ever since the day he almost lost control in front of Lydia, he'd done his best to avoid thinking about her. Even when he found out she was hospitalized with a fever, he bit it down and stayed away.

If she hadn't insisted on taking in that stray dog and dragging it out for walks come rain or shine, none of this would've happened.

Again and again, he reminded himself: she brought this on herself.

And yet... he still couldn't stop that quiet, lingering worry deep inside.

So in the end, here he was, slipping into her room for a quick look.

But now, seeing her tangled in feverish murmurs, his chest tightened for a second.

He knew she couldn't speak, but he still tilted forward slightly, eyes fixed on the way her lips moved.

Just as Henry leaned closer, his expression shifted-his face darkening, jaw tightening, eyes flashing with barely restrained fury.

She was mumbling something, voice hoarse and weak. "Dad...?"

His body tensed. For a moment, he froze. Then, without thinking, he grabbed her wrist and gave it a sharp shake.

"Lydia. Wake up."

No response.

He bent closer, voice low and cold. "I said wake up."

Still nothing.

His patience snapped. Without a word, he crossed the room and yanked the curtains wide open.

Sunlight slashed into the room like a blade-sharp, white, and merciless.

Lydia flinched.

A second later, she gasped awake, blinking against the sudden light, breath shallow. "Ah...!"

She struggled to sit up, confused and weak. "Cough-cough..."

Her eyes finally found him, Henry, his silhouette framed by the harsh daylight pouring in behind him.

His expression was unreadable. Cold. Still.

"You-why are you here?" her voice cracked.

"Why can't I be?" he said, voice low. "Still dreaming of your killer dad, huh? Even in your sleep?"

His words hit her like a punch to the gut, sharp and cruel.

With her lips trembling, Lydia tried to fight back, tears burning in her eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean? Yeah, he caused a tragedy, but he's still my dad. Why can't I remember him?!"

She should've been used to Henry's constant sarcasm by now, but no matter how many times it happened, she never saw it coming.

"You really forgot, didn't you?" His voice deepened, clenched with rage. "My dad died in this damn hospital ten years ago. And I lost my leg here too-ten years ago! And you think you have any right to sit here and mourn your killer father in the same place?"

His voice shook with fury, his breath unsteady.

Her tears broke free instantly, spilling down like a snapped string of pearls.

Of course she remembered.

Ten years ago, her parents had both died in this hospital too-on the same day.

That was the day everything in her life started to fall apart.

She wasn't even allowed to mourn them openly. Not with Henry around. She had to hide. To stay quiet. To go somewhere else just to light a candle.

And still, it wasn't enough for him. What more did he want from her?

Grief crashed over her like a wave, stealing her breath. Then, something inside her broke.

"If you really hate me that much..." she whispered, voice ragged. "Then just kill me already! Do it! At least then it'll be over!"

Henry's eyes flared. His jaw tightened. He stepped forward and his hand rose instinctively...

But stopped mid-air.

She stared up at him, tear-soaked, defiant.

His hand dropped.

He turned his face away, breathing hard.

"Don't tempt me," he said hoarsely. "You don't know how close I am."

"Cough... cough..."

At first, Lydia tried to sit up, pushing herself with shaking arms. But the fever weighed her down like lead, and her limbs refused to obey. After a few seconds of struggling, she sank back into the pillow, her chest rising and falling with shallow, exhausted breaths.

Henry stood over her, his face pale with fury, fists clenched at his sides like he was barely holding himself together.

Martha burst into the room, eyes widening at the sight.

"Sir?! What are you doing? She's burning up-she needs a doctor!"

That seemed to snap him out of whatever storm had clouded his mind.

He didn't say anything. His jaw twitched. His eyes dropped to Lydia's flushed, tear-streaked face. She looked like she was on the verge of breaking-inside and out.

For a split second, something flickered in his expression. But it was gone just as fast.

He turned away sharply, raking a hand through his hair in frustration.

Damn it. She actually wanted to die? She really believed she could just disappear-like that would fix anything? As if dying would somehow set her free?

No. Not a chance.

He turned back, his voice low and cutting.

"This is your warning. You want to die? Not unless I say so. As long as you're breathing, you stay right here and pay for what your family did."

His voice was like ice, every word sharp enough to scar.

Lydia didn't respond. She just lay there, staring up at him with red-rimmed eyes, blinking slowly.

Tears slipped silently down her cheeks.

Martha moved quickly to the bed, checking Lydia's condition. "I'll go get the doctor," she whispered, and hurried out.

Lydia stayed still, her eyes unfocused. The ceiling above her blurred, but his voice echoed in her head, over and over.

"You want to die? Not unless I say so."

She let out a bitter laugh, barely audible.

His cruelty always found new ways to hurt her.

Ten years. Would it ever end?

She didn't know.

...

Out in the corridor, Henry stood with both fists clenched, forehead pressed against the cold wall.

He couldn't shake that final look in her eyes-like she'd given up, but also found a twisted kind of peace.

That look lit a fuse in him-rage mixed with something way more terrifying-panic.

Damn it. Couldn't she just behave for once? Always had to push his buttons, again and again.

Frustrated, he clenched his fist and slammed it against the wall, trying to let out all that bottled-up rage inside.

The next morning, Lydia was discharged from the hospital.

Martha finally breathed a sigh of relief and told her to stay put and pack her things while she went to handle the discharge papers.

At the same time, out front of the hospital-

Clara stepped out of the car and quickly opened the back door to help her father out.

Once Charles Spencer stood firmly on his feet, he turned to his daughter with a warm smile and gently tapped her hand.

"Clara, you just got back to the country and probably have plenty on your own plate. No need to stick to me like glue," he said kindly.

"How is that the same?" Clara pouted and grinned, "You're my dad. If you have a hospital check-up, I'd be a terrible daughter if I didn't come with you. Nothing's more important than your health."

Charles chuckled at her words, his face lighting up.

"Oh, you and that sweet mouth-like it's dipped in honey!"

"Alright, alright, let's get inside, Dad," Clara said as she linked arms with him. "UV's strong today, not great for your skin."

So the two of them chatted and laughed as they walked inside.

Just as they stepped in, Clara's phone rang.

She glanced at the screen and said quickly, "Dad, you go on up-I just need to take this call. I'll catch up."

Charles waved it off. "Alright, go ahead."

After Clara left, he made his way upstairs like he'd done it a hundred times before and saw the doctor.

When he came out and noticed Clara still hadn't returned, he figured he'd go grab his medicine first.

Just as he turned a corner, someone in a rush rammed into him.

The medicine flew out of his hand and scattered on the floor, though he managed to catch himself against the wall.

The person didn't even stop or say sorry-just disappeared in an instant.

"People these days..." Charles muttered, shaking his head.

He bent over, ready to pick up his medicine, when a petite figure stepped in front of him, scooped up the package, and handed it to him.

He blinked in surprise, instinctively taking it from her without thinking.

When he looked up, he saw a young woman with a soft, beautiful face-her eyes curved when she smiled, just like little crescent moons.

Something tugged at his heart. She felt oddly familiar.

"Thank you, young lady," he said with a kind smile.

"No problem, sir," Lydia responded with a soft chuckle, giving a small wave.

Right then, her phone rang.

She glanced at the screen, and her expression shifted subtly.

Without a word, she bit her lip and picked up the call.

"You've got ten minutes. Meet me outside the hospital."

The second the call connected, Henry's voice came through, cold and emotionless.

Lydia's face paled. She stared at the screen that showed the call had been cut off, then looked up at Charles. She typed on her phone and showed it to him.

-Are you heading downstairs?

Charles was a bit surprised, then seemed to get the idea-such a sweet girl, and yet...

He couldn't help but feel a little regret deep down.

Keeping a warm smile on his face, he said, "You've got something to do, don't you? It's okay-go ahead. Don't worry about me. I'm just waiting for my daughter."

-Alright then, I'll get going. Take care. It's not always safe to be alone.

She tapped the new sentence and showed it to him again.

That warmed Charles's heart even more. He chuckled and nodded, saying, "Got it, sweetie. I'll be careful. You better hurry too, don't keep your family waiting."

-Goodbye.

The mention of "family" yanked Lydia's thoughts back to Henry, probably still waiting for her outside.

He only gave her ten minutes. She didn't dare waste another second. Turning abruptly, she rushed toward the elevator.

'Ding-'

Just as she got there, the doors opened.

But the moment she looked up, she froze.

Clara?

They locked eyes, both clearly caught off guard.

Lydia quickly pulled herself together, bit her lip, and stepped into the elevator.

"What are you doing here?" Clara couldn't stop herself, her tone sharp. "You stalking me or what?"

Seriously, how could it be this much of a coincidence to run into Lydia here of all places? So annoying.

-I'm here because I'm not feeling well. You've got it wrong.

Lydia frowned as she signed.

But Clara looked even more irritated. "Stop waving your hands around in front of me, it's really annoying, you know that?"

Lydia's fingers hesitated mid-air. She reached for her phone again.

"Oh, forget it! Who's got the time to wait for you to finish typing? Listen, stay out of my way. I don't want to see you again."

She turned to leave just as-

'Ding.'

The elevator doors snapped shut.

Clara blinked, raised her hand to hit the button, but then a loud, urgent alarm went off.

The elevator had stopped.

"Aah!!"

Both of them were caught off guard by the sudden halt.

Clara reacted even more strongly-she almost lost her balance. She reached for the handrail and backed away in a panic.

Right then, there was a crisp "ding"-something hit the ground.

Lydia glanced down and spotted a necklace lying on the floor.

She bent over to pick it up, frowning slightly-it looked... weirdly familiar.

The pendant was shaped like an eye.

Wait a second... wasn't this the same as the one she had a decade ago?

Clara was just starting to catch her breath, hand still on her chest, and when she turned around, she immediately saw Lydia carefully turning the necklace over in her hands.

Clara froze for a beat, then her face changed completely. Without thinking, she reached out and snatched the necklace back. "What are you staring at? Never seen a necklace before?!"

-No, Miss Spencer, you got it wrong. That necklace... it looks like mine. Can I-

"This is my necklace! What's it got to do with you?!"

Clara cut her off before she could finish. Her heart skipped a beat.

So that's it.

No wonder the moment she saw this mute girl, something just felt off.

Both mute. She recognized the necklace. They even looked kinda alike...

No doubt now.

This mute girl-she's the one from back then!

Damn it!

After all these years, why is she still clinging on like a ghost?

Anger and frustration roared in Clara's chest. She shoved the necklace right in Lydia's face and snapped, "Take a good look! My name's on it. It's mine! Lydia, I'm warning you-don't touch my stuff again. Whether it's a necklace or a man, if you've touched it, it's filthy. Because you are."

Lydia just stood there, stunned. She had no idea what Clara was going off about.

Like... what even triggered all this?

Just then, there was another ding-the elevator doors slid open.

The two of them turned to look. Several rescue workers stood outside the elevator.

Seeing both of them safe, they all breathed a sigh of relief and helped them out.

"Clara! Are you alright?" Charles had rushed over not far away, anxious and out of breath as soon as he spotted his daughter.

Clara, still shaken by what just happened, forced herself to calm down and quickly went up to him. "Dad! Don't worry, I'm okay. Just got a little scared. We weren't stuck long. Let's go."

Lydia stepped out of the elevator too and walked a few steps behind-only to realize Clara was already gone.

She felt oddly disappointed. She'd hoped to take another look at that necklace...

"Lydia!"

Suddenly, a hand latched onto her wrist and yanked hard.

She heard a low, biting voice next to her ear.