On the other end of the phone, Steven fell silent.

After a long pause, his slightly awkward voice finally came through.

“Sorry, Gianna. Something came up at home, and I headed back earlier. Wait for me—I’ll come get you right now.”

As he spoke, rustling sounds and faint background chatter filtered through the line. Chloe’s voice called out cheerfully, “Steven, dinner’s almost ready! Where are you going?”

Gianna pressed her fingers to her temple, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. “Forget it. Don’t trouble yourself—I’ll manage on my own.”

This time, Steven hesitated for only half a second before agreeing.

“Alright, take your time. I cooked something good tonight. It’ll be waiting when you get home.”

After hanging up, Gianna let out a slow breath, though the wounds in her heart seemed to deepen. Lightly touching the Médecins Sans Frontières application tucked in her pocket, she wondered how she could convince Steven to agree to her departure.

Leaning against the hospital wall, she hobbled out, each step sending waves of searing pain through her ankle. After what felt like an eternity, she managed to flag down a cab.

Sliding into the passenger seat, she realized her clothes were drenched with cold sweat.

The driver glanced at her pale face, his voice tinged with concern. “Miss, you don’t look well. Why don’t you call your boyfriend to come pick you up?”

Resting against the seat, Gianna tried to ease the pain and even managed a wry chuckle. “I don't have a boyfriend, just a fiancé.”

“Then call your fiancé. Look at you—your face is white as a sheet. I bet he doesn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“Fiancé?” Gianna scoffed softly, staring out the window. “Too bad he’s busy spending time with someone else. He got no time for me.”

The driver fell silent for a moment before muttering under his breath, “What kind of fiancé is that? Sounds pretty unreliable.”

Gianna chuckled at his candid remark.

“Unreliable?” she mused. “More like indifferent.”

Everything about the wedding preparations, from the invitations to the décor of their future home, had been left to Gianna alone.

When she’d asked Steven for input, his response had been dismissive. “The man works outside while the woman manages the home. Why are you asking me for every little thing? Don’t you have any opinions of your own?”

Yet, when she had completed the arrangements, Steven had found fault with everything. Ultimately, it was Chloe who finalized the décor to his satisfaction.

As she thought back on it all, Gianna felt a wave of exhaustion and disdain.

When the cab pulled up outside her apartment complex, it was just a short walk from the gate to her unit—barely a few hundred meters. Yet it took her nearly half an hour to cover the distance, her every step labored and slow.

Standing at the door, she instinctively reached for her keys before realizing they were missing. Frustrated, she knocked on the door.

It took a while, but Steven eventually opened it.

The first thing he said upon seeing her was tinged with impatience. “Don’t you have your keys? Why are you always knocking?”

Gianna didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she entered the apartment, walking slowly to the living room, and then pulled out her keyring from her bag.

“You took my key off the ring a few days ago to give to Chloe, remember?” she responded coldly.

Her words made Steven pause. His irritation faded slightly, replaced by a faint trace of guilt. But even then, his tone carried a hint of reproach. “I’ve been so busy lately that I forgot. Why didn’t you just get yourself a new one? You’ve got time for things like this.”

Gianna smiled faintly, offering no reply. She had long since stopped expecting fairness.

To Steven, anything concerning Chloe always seemed urgent, while her needs could wait—or be ignored altogether.

As she made her way into the dining room, she realized Chloe was already there.

“Gianna, you’re finally back!” Chloe greeted her enthusiastically, rushing forward to loop her arm through Gianna’s in a playful gesture, sticking out her tongue as she smiled.

"I'm really sorry, Gianna. I was so hungry I couldn’t wait for you," Chloe said apologetically as she pulled Gianna toward the dining table.

However, the table held only scraps of leftovers.

Gianna stood still, staring at the remnants. A complex wave of emotions surged through her—sorrow, disappointment, and something she couldn't quite name.

"Forget it. I'm not feeling well today, so I’ll skip dinner. You two enjoy," Gianna said quietly, turning to hobble toward the stairs.

Behind her, Chloe sounded surprised. "Gianna, what’s wrong? Are you upset because I didn’t wait for you to eat?"

Steven reached out to ruffle Chloe’s hair, his voice carrying a hint of indulgence. "Don’t overthink it. She sprained her ankle today and isn’t feeling well."

This casual display of affection happened to catch Gianna's eye as she glanced back. Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but all that emerged was a sigh. With a downcast look, she turned and retreated to the master bedroom.

Her mind replayed the events of the day. Chloe’s simple phone call had made Steven drop everything and rush to her side. Meanwhile, Gianna could barely walk and yet received no such concern. The stark contrast felt like a dagger to her chest.

Once in the bedroom, she tried to ignore the pain radiating from her ankle as she rummaged through drawers and cabinets, searching for a first aid kit. After what felt like an eternity, she finally found an old medicine box shoved under the closet in the guest room. It contained a single bottle of expired iodine.

With no better options, Gianna carried the iodine back to the master bedroom. She noticed in passing that the guest room had been recently tidied up—clean and organized. However, she didn’t dwell on it.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she carefully dabbed the iodine on her swollen ankle. The moment the cotton swab touched her skin, a sharp pain made her gasp.

After just one day without treatment and the strain of walking such a long distance, the injury has significantly worsened.

"You shouldn’t use that."

The sudden voice startled her. She looked up to see Steven standing in the doorway, holding a new bottle of herbal liniment.

"This iodine is expired. Didn’t you notice? You’re still so careless." He sighed and walked over, crouching down in front of her.

Gently, he reached for her injured ankle to inspect the swelling. However, Gianna instinctively pulled her foot back, avoiding his touch.

"Are you disgusted by me?"

In the dim light of the bedroom, Steven’s expression was unreadable.

Gianna tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, feeling the awkward tension between them. "No... It’s just that Chloe is still waiting for you outside. You should go keep her company. Leave the liniment here—I can manage on my own."

Steven stared at her for a moment, his face impassive. Without a word, he suddenly grabbed her ankle and pulled it into his lap, ignoring her protests.

His abruptness made Gianna wince in pain, a small cry escaping her lips.

When he saw how swollen and bruised her ankle was, the irritation in Steven’s expression softened, replaced by a rare hint of guilt.

"Sorry," he murmured.

The apology caught Gianna off guard.

Steven wasn’t the type to apologize easily. In the three years they’d been together, this was the first time she’d heard the word from him.

Even when he had left her by the roadside with a ruptured appendix, he hadn’t apologized. Later, she learned he’d been rushing to a medical seminar where Chloe was to be introduced as his mentee. Gianna, writhing in pain, had been left behind like an afterthought.

"Why the sudden apology? That’s not like you," she said, trying to resist the temptation to dwell on his fleeting moment of tenderness.

Steven looked up briefly, his hands still carefully applying the liniment. "Your ankle’s in bad shape. I shouldn’t have ignored it earlier."

The sincerity in his voice made Gianna’s heart ache. She had long stopped expecting warmth from him, so his apology felt like a cruel tease—offering hope where none existed.

Biting her lip, she forced herself to smile. "It’s just a sprain. Nothing worth apologizing for."

Gianna feared that her determination to go abroad and join Médecins Sans Frontières might waver if she allowed herself to get caught up in these emotions.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “You’re the renowned Dr. Thompson. Now that you’re giving me a massage for free, I should be thanking you. After all, plenty of people can’t even book an appointment with you. I must be taking a shortcut here.”

Steven frowned slightly, not responding immediately. He couldn’t help but feel her words carried a tinge of sarcasm, as if she were deliberately provoking him.

Suppressing the irritation rising within him, Steven refocused on carefully massaging Gianna’s injured ankle.

It wasn’t until he finished the first session that he finally spoke, revealing his decision.

“Chloe’s house was broken into by a thief. I’ve arranged for her to stay here for a few days.”

Gianna froze, the reason for his recent behavior suddenly becoming clear.

No wonder Steven had been uncharacteristically considerate earlier. His odd actions over the past few days—the removal of her house key, the sudden cleaning of the guest room—all made sense now. Chloe’s prolonged stay had clearly been planned well in advance.

Steven had already made all the decisions before even informing her.

Gianna gave it some thought but ultimately chose not to refuse. Her smile was faint, yet it carried an unmistakable trace of bitterness.

“It’s fine. Do as you think best.” Her light, indifferent response immediately quelled the explanations Steven had prepared in his mind. Seeing that Gianna agreed without resistance, the tension in his furrowed brows relaxed.

“You don’t mind?” he asked, his tone was laced with disbelief.

“Not at all.” Her answer came without hesitation.

Steven looked relieved. Standing up, he handed her the bottle of liniment.

“Apply it gently again in half an hour. I’ll go keep Chloe company for now—she must be bored sitting in the living room alone. I’ll check back on you later.”

Gianna nodded with a smile, but her heart marked another painful tally.

He’d gotten the response he wanted and immediately prioritized Chloe, leaving her behind once more.

Just as Steven’s hand touched the doorknob to leave, he suddenly turned back, his tone laced with a warning.

“Gianna, Chloe has always been sensitive. Next time, don’t act so impolite in front of her—it might upset her.”

He was clearly referring to how she had silently retreated to the bedroom upon arriving home.

But what else could she have done? Sit down and eat their leftovers?

Gianna gripped the bottle of liniment so tightly that her knuckles turned white. Yet, she forced a smile onto her face.

“Got it. Please apologize to Chloe for me.”

Her compliance satisfied Steven, and with a nod, he finally left the room.

The moment the door clicked shut, Gianna could no longer hold back her tears. They streamed down her cheeks uncontrollably.

This was her fiancé. The man she had loved for three years.

Not even for a single second did his heart truly belong to her.

The stabbing pain in her ankle paled in comparison to the unbearable ache in her chest. Her heart, battered and bruised, felt like it was collapsing under the weight of her grief.

When it came time for the second massage, Gianna quietly handled it herself. She had no illusions—she knew Steven wouldn’t return.

She lay alone in the cold, quiet room, listening to the laughter echoing from the living room downstairs.

Eventually, thirst forced her to leave the bedroom. Limping down the stairs, she reached the water dispenser only to find her usual cup missing.

In its place was a new cup—one she didn’t recognize.

It didn’t take much to guess whose it was.