Evelyn decided that, in the final countdown of her life, she would leave herself with a proper photograph.

The standard ones provided by funeral homes felt too stiff. She didn't like them.

She chose a well-reviewed private studio and booked an afternoon session.

But the moment she walked in, she saw Adrian and Vanessa inside—right in the middle of their pre-wedding shoot.

"Sir, hold your wife by the waist—yes! Look at each other!" The photographer stood nearby with the camera, enthusiastically directing, "Good, hold that pose! Now lean in and kiss your wife's forehead! Yes—like she's the most precious thing in the world!"

Adrian followed the instruction, lowering his head and placing a gentle, careful kiss on Vanessa's smooth forehead.

It suddenly came back to Evelyn—before Vanessa woke up, she and Adrian had been happy too.

Every morning before leaving, he would do the same—pressing a kiss to her forehead or cheek.

When she was exhausted from taking care of Vanessa, barely able to straighten her back, he would look up massage techniques online and joke that he was her personal therapist.

At the time, Adrian's company was going through a critical phase before going public, and Vanessa's medical expenses were a heavy burden.

So she always carried a quiet regret—no wedding, no wedding dress. She would stop and linger every time she passed a bridal shop.

And Adrian would wrap his arms around her from behind and promise, with absolute certainty, "Give it two more years. Whether Vanessa recovers or not, I'll give you the grandest wedding."

But all that sweetness, all those promises, disappeared the moment Vanessa woke up.

In the past, a moment like this would have hurt her.

But standing here now, watching the two of them wrapped in their own world, she felt… nothing. Not even a ripple.

She turned quietly, ready to leave.

"Evelyn?" A soft, delicate voice called out from behind her.

Evelyn paused mid-step. The music and shutter clicks in the studio fell silent.

She turned back to see Vanessa still leaning against Adrian as she called out to her.

Panic and awkwardness flashed across Adrian's face. He quickly let go of Vanessa's waist and stepped forward. "What are you doing here?"

Evelyn lifted her phone slightly. The confirmation message for her booking was still on the screen.

"I'm here for photos," she said calmly.

Vanessa looked her up and down—the simple dress, the empty space behind her. A flicker of understanding and mockery passed through her eyes, but her smile only grew sweeter.

"Evelyn, you're here for photos too? What a coincidence. Adrian and I are doing our wedding shoot—it's for the wedding. I told him it's just for formality, we didn't need to spend this much. But he said he doesn't want any regrets for our wedding."

She slipped her arm around Adrian's stiff arm and smiled, "Evelyn, since you're here, why not take a few photos with us?"

Her tone was innocent, but every word carried a hidden sting.

"Vanessa!" Adrian snapped, trying to stop her—but without much force.

He looked at Evelyn, his expression complicated—awkward, urging, and perhaps something else he didn't even realize himself.

What was he hoping for? Was he afraid Evelyn would make a scene?

Evelyn's gaze passed over Vanessa's smug expression and settled on Adrian's conflicted eyes.

The corner of her lips lifted slightly.

"No need." Her voice was calm, as if none of this had anything to do with her. "You go ahead. I wish you…"

She paused, her eyes brushing over the dazzling wedding dress and Adrian's white suit, then said softly, "a perfect wedding."

She didn't look at their changing expressions again. She turned and walked away.

Adrian instinctively stepped forward, but Vanessa grabbed his arm tightly. "Adrian, the photographer's still waiting… I'm getting cold…"

Evelyn walked out to the street. The sunlight was a little too bright.

A sudden warmth rose in her nose, and something hot began to run down.

Calmly, she took a tissue from her bag, wiped away the streak of red, and tossed it into a roadside bin.

After that day, Adrian began to sense that something was off.

Evelyn was too calm—so calm it unsettled him.

She no longer left a light on for him when he came home late, or kept a bowl of soup warm. She stopped updating him on every detail of Vanessa's care. Even when he brought up wedding preparations, she only listened, offering no opinion.

This silence unsettled him more than her old obedience ever had.

As if something, somewhere he couldn't see, was quietly breaking apart.

Driven by a mix of guilt and the urge to make things right, Adrian made a detour on his way home and bought the shop's signature strawberry matcha cake from a boutique bakery that was notoriously hard to book.

He remembered Vanessa liked it.

As for what Evelyn liked? He frowned, thinking for a moment, but came up with nothing.

She had always followed his preferences.

Maybe… she liked sweets too.

He pushed the cake toward her, his tone deliberately softened. "I brought this for you. About the studio the other day… I should've told you in advance. I just thought the wedding couldn't happen without photos of the bride and groom. I made the decision too quickly and didn't think about how you'd feel. That's on me. Don't take it to heart."

Evelyn looked at the delicate dessert—the strawberries bright red, the matcha a vivid green.

She didn't like sweets. And she hated the bitterness of matcha even more.

On her first birthday after they got married, he had brought home a Black Forest cake. She had forced herself to finish it, then spent the entire night sick, throwing up.

He had probably forgotten long ago.

"When the wedding with Vanessa is over," Adrian added when she didn't respond, "I'll take you to do a proper wedding shoot. Then we'll go on a trip. Didn't you always say you wanted to see the aurora? How about a destination wedding in Frosthaven?"

Evelyn's fingers trembled slightly.

The aurora.

It was a dream she had mentioned long ago, almost in passing.

And the wedding he had promised her…

He remembered.

Her pale lips parted, the words nearly slipping out—she might not have a future at all.

But his phone vibrated in his pocket. He glanced at it, his expression changing slightly—it was the hospital caregiver.

He answered immediately, his voice tense. "What happened? Is Vanessa feeling unwell again? Alright, I'll be there right away!"

He hung up, grabbed his coat, and spoke quickly to Evelyn, "Vanessa has a slight fever and isn't stable. I need to go check on her. Make sure you eat the cake."

Before he finished speaking, he was already at the door.

So that was all he remembered.

"Adrian." Evelyn called out to him.

He turned back, frowning, one hand still on the doorknob, his whole posture impatient.

Evelyn looked at his face—so familiar, yet so distant—and at the concern in his eyes for another woman. The words caught in her throat.

Did he remember she hated sweets? Hated matcha?

If she were the one who was sick, would he stay?

She already knew the answer.

"Drive safe." In the end, that was all she said, her gaze lowered.

Adrian seemed taken aback for a second, as if he hadn't expected that. He gave a vague "mm" and hurried out the door.

The door shut, cutting off all sound. The room fell into a dead silence.

Evelyn slowly opened the cake box. The sweet scent hit her all at once.

She picked up the small plastic spoon, scooped a bite, and put it in her mouth.

As expected, it made her stomach turn.

She rushed to the bathroom and retched violently over the toilet, until what came up was nothing but murky fluid streaked with blood.

She braced herself against the sink, turning on the tap, watching the red fade and wash away.

In the mirror, her eyes were sunken, her body gaunt.

It didn't matter.

She thought.

Three more days. It would be over soon.

The remaining three days were not easy for Evelyn.

Her headaches grew more frequent.

It was no longer the dull, intermittent ache from before, but a sharp, piercing pain—like a drill twisting inside her skull—accompanied by sudden dizziness and blurred vision.

She knew this meant the tumor was progressing. Time was running out faster than she had expected.

Fortunately, the visa process went smoothly, and confirmation from Silverpine had already arrived.

She quietly began packing. There wasn't much to take—just a few clothes she wore often, and an old photo album filled with pictures of her and the children from Starlight Home.

She didn't take a single thing Adrian had given her.

There had never been much in this home that truly belonged to her.

Before leaving, Evelyn wanted to visit the orphanage where she had grown up, to say goodbye to Lillian Brooks—the orphanage director.

When she called Lillian, the old woman's warm laughter came through the phone. "Evelyn, Ethan is coming to visit today too. I'll have him pick you up at the gate."

At the mention of Ethan Wells's name, Evelyn hesitated for a moment.

Ethan had grown up with her at Starlight Home, a few years older than her.

He had been adopted when she was ten. Later, she heard he got into a top medical school and went abroad, with a promising future ahead of him.

"Alright, I'll appreciate Ethan's help." She didn't refuse the offer. Forcing herself up, she changed into clean clothes and headed out.

But the moment she stepped out of the gate, the suffocating pain struck again without warning—stronger than ever before.

Her vision went black, and she collapsed, the back of her head slamming hard against the cold asphalt.

Pain exploded through her skull, inside and out. The world spun violently.

She lay on the ground, driven by instinct, using every last bit of strength to inch forward, reaching for her phone lying out of reach.

After a tremendous effort, her fingers finally brushed against the cold edge of the phone.

Her vision had blurred into a haze of red.

Relying on muscle memory, she unlocked the screen with trembling fingers and, through the shaking contact list, tapped the number she knew by heart.

"Adrian…" Her voice was hoarse, barely audible. The pain broke her words apart. "Help me…"

On the other end, Adrian seemed to be responding to someone beside him. It took him a few seconds to realize Evelyn had spoken.

"What did you say? I'm out walking with Vanessa, it's windy here. Say that again."

"I…"

Before she could finish, a surge of thick, metallic warmth flooded her throat, cutting off her words. Blood choked her airway, and through the phone, only her strained, broken breaths could be heard.

"Adrian, is Evelyn upset that I've been taking up so much of your time?"

Vanessa's soft voice came through clearly from the other end.

"If she's unhappy, she could just say it. Why would she do this just to get your attention and make you go back…"

Before she could finish, Vanessa suddenly let out a fragile cry, completely drowning out Evelyn's faint breathing.

"Adrian… my chest feels tight… I can't breathe…"

"Vanessa! Don't be scared, I'm here!"

Adrian's voice changed instantly.

"Doctor! We need a doctor here, now!"

Through the phone came his hurried reassurances, chaotic footsteps, and the urgent voices of nurses.

She tried to speak again, but her throat felt completely sealed. No sound came out.

Warm tears slipped silently from the corners of her eyes.

On the other end, Adrian picked up the phone again, speaking quickly, a hint of irritation in his voice.

"Evelyn, I really can't leave right now. Vanessa's condition is bad! Whatever it is, we'll talk when I get back. Be good."

The call ended.

Her consciousness faded with the busy tone. Cold darkness surged in like rising water.

Her body grew colder, the pain slowly dulling.

It seemed she might really die here today.

Evelyn slowly closed her eyes, just as the last thread of awareness began to slip away.

A car screeched to a halt, followed by hurried, frantic footsteps rushing toward her.

A pair of trembling hands lifted her blood-covered face.

"Evelyn! Stay with me!"