"Ah!"

The scalding sauce drenched Allen instantly, turning his skin an angry red. Blisters erupted across his arms as searing pain shot through his body, leaving him speechless with agony.

"Allen!"

Serene released Will and rushed to Allen, showing rare concern. "Are you okay? We need to get you to the hospital!"

Allen looked up at her, the pain overwhelming, unable to form words.

"Oh God! Will, you're hurt!"

At this, Serene's attention snapped to Will. She hurried to his side, even more distressed than before. Though only a few drops had hit his arm, she acted as if he'd suffered a critical injury.

Will pulled away, his eyes pained as he shook his head. "I'm fine. Mr. Bennett needs medical attention more urgently."

"Don't be ridiculous! You've always been sensitive to pain. Serene, what are you waiting for? Get Will to the emergency room!" Anne glared at the other table. "What is wrong with you people? Take your fight outside! You've hurt Will, and my sister would definitely sue all of you!”

Will winced but insisted, "It's nothing, really. Please, help Mr. Bennett—he's badly hurt."

But his words only heightened Serene's panic. Ignoring Allen's severely burned arms, she helped Will up and rushed toward the door.

At the threshold, she paused briefly, throwing Allen a guilty glance. "Will has sensitive skin. The hospital's just down the street—you can grab a taxi."

Allen watched them disappear, struggling to breathe through the pain but managing to stay standing.

A sympathetic server hurried over with a first aid kit and helped treat his burns. After taking some pain medication, Allen felt well enough to speak again.

The restaurant lent him clean clothes, and he carefully made his way outside to hail a cab.

---

At the hospital, the doctor pressed cotton swabs against his blisters, explaining the treatment. "Apply this antibiotic cream daily, and it shouldn't leave any scars."

Allen clenched his jaw against the pain, eyes squeezed shut.

Nearby, two nurses wheeled a cart past, chatting.

"Did you hear? Ms. Foster reserved the entire VIP wing for Mr. Anderson. Just a few drops of sauce, and she called in every specialist in the city."

"I know, right? His burn's so minor it would've healed on its own. Wish I had someone that devoted to me."

"Ha, keep dreaming. A woman like that is one in a million."

---

One in a million?

Allen laughed bitterly. A wife who abandons her severely injured husband to tend to someone else's minor burn was indeed unique.

After getting bandaged, he thanked the doctor and left. Just outside the hospital, his phone buzzed with an email.

It was from the art program he'd applied to abroad, confirming his acceptance and requesting a portfolio submission.

For the first time in five years, Allen picked up his paintbrushes again.

---

After buying art supplies, he avoided the Foster estate and headed to Lake Vista Mountain instead.

The view was breathtaking—a pristine lake nestled between rolling hills, its surface mirror-smooth, perfectly reflecting the surrounding peaks.

Taking a deep breath, Allen felt years of tension melt away. The weight of his confined life lifted, replaced by a surge of long-forgotten freedom.

Inspiration flowing, he began to paint. His brush moved across the canvas as the landscape took shape before him.

For three days, he lost himself in the solitude, accompanied only by birdsong and rustling leaves.

---

When he finally descended to ship his painting to the university, Allen turned his phone back on.

The screen lit up with dozens of missed calls and messages, all from Serene.

This was unprecedented.

Usually, Allen was the one calling and texting, only to be ignored. Serene had never actively reached out to him, let alone repeatedly.

While he stared at his phone in disbelief, Anne's number appeared. He answered, and her sharp voice cut through.

"Allen Bennett, where the hell have you been? Do you know my sister's been going crazy looking for you? Don't think you can use this disappearing act to make her care. Get real! The Foster family's future belongs with Will!"

She hung up before he could respond.

He frowned at his phone, confused.

Serene frantically searching for him?

What could she possibly want now?

Allen considered calling Anne back, but the 108 missed calls from Serene told their own story. Whatever it was, she was desperate.

Allen returned home, sketchbook in hand, still puzzling over Serene's calls.

The moment he stepped out of his car, the household staff rushed to greet him. Relief flooded their faces; some looked on the verge of tears.

"Sir! Thank God you're back! Everything's been chaos here. Ms. Foster hasn't been satisfied with anything we've done. She's been in a terrible mood for days..."

Allen understood then.

It wasn't that they couldn't manage; they'd simply grown dependent on his oversight.

But they would have to adjust. He was leaving soon, and they'd need to learn to cope without him.

After a few reassuring words to the staff, Allen entered the darkened house. Not a single light was on.

Serene sat alone on the sofa, moonlight streaming through the windows casting sharp shadows across her features.

She looked up at his footsteps, studying him. "Where have you been?" Her voice held an edge.

Allen shrugged off his coat. "In the mountains, finding inspiration."

She frowned. "Since when are you interested in painting?"

He'd always been top of his class in fine arts. If not for his obligation to the Fosters, he would have studied abroad years ago and made a name for himself as an artist.

But he didn't bother explaining. He simply poured himself water and took a sip. "Just felt like it."

Serene massaged her temples. "About that night at the restaurant—I didn't mean to abandon you. It's just that Will's always been sensitive to pain. Even a small cut affects him for days. We grew up together, and I'm used to taking care of him. That's why I rushed him to the hospital first."

She glanced at him reproachfully. "You didn't object at the time. So why disappear like that? Will's place is ready now, and he's moved out. Don't make such a big deal over small things."

Her tone carried subtle blame—as if his supposed overreaction had forced Will to move out earlier than planned.

Allen didn't care anymore. He gave a noncommittal response, set down his glass, and headed for the stairs.

"Allen!"

He turned back to face her.

"I'm hungry. Make me some pasta?"

Allen held up his bandaged hand. "Did you forget? I'm injured."

Serene froze, caught off guard.

Without waiting for her response, he continued upstairs.

---

The next morning, as Allen left his room, Serene approached him holding an expensive jewelry box.

He looked at her questioningly.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "About that night... I was preoccupied with Will and didn't check on you. This is to make up for it."

Inside the box was an emerald ring. Allen's expression flickered with complex emotions.

Five years. Five long years.

This was the first gift she'd ever given him.

But it wasn't a gesture of affection—it was compensation. Payment for neglecting him while tending to her "true love."

The ring reminded him of all the carefully chosen gifts for Will waiting in his study. Bitterness welled up inside him, but he pushed it down.

A gift he'd never expected was now something he no longer wanted.

When he didn't take the box, Serene assumed he disliked it.

"I've been busy with Will's situation lately, so I had my assistant bid on the most expensive piece at auction. If you don't like it—"

Anne's voice cut through from the doorway.

"Will! See how much my sister loves you? You shouldn't have moved out. At least visit her more often!"

Anne breezed in, pulling Will behind her. Spotting the ring in Serene's hand, her eyes lit up.

"Oh my God, Serene! Will just mentioned how much he loved this ring, and you bought it for him!"

Anne turned to Will admiringly.

Will blushed and looked away.

Serene hesitated, glancing between the ring and Will.

Before she could decide, Allen took the box and handed it to Will.

"If it's meant for him, he should have it."

With that simple statement, Allen made the choice for her, erasing her indecision.

For the first time, Serene didn't immediately focus on Will. Instead, her gaze lingered on Allen.

Something about his calm demeanor unsettled her.

He seemed different now, though she couldn't quite explain how.

One week later, their divorce was finalized.

Allen was finally free to leave. As he packed his belongings, a delivery arrived—a tailored suit from Serene's assistant with instructions to attend a gala at the Foster estate.

Allen stared at the suit and laughed softly. Though they were legally divorced, Serene seemed oblivious, still treating him as her husband.

He considered declining but remembered Mrs. Foster's years of kindness—and the fact that he still needed her help with his travel documents. Reluctantly, he put on the suit and went.

---

The ballroom sparkled with life. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the crowd, while the gentle clink of champagne glasses mixed with the murmur of conversation.

At the center of attention, Will stood surrounded by admiring friends, all raising their glasses in celebration.

"Will, Ms. Foster is clearly still in love with you."

"That ring you're wearing? It's a one-of-a-kind piece from Sotheby's. They say it symbolizes eternal love. Some mystery buyer paid a fortune for it—now we know it was Ms. Foster!"

"She never got over you. Remember in college? She used to walk you to every class. All those little gifts that kept appearing in your locker? That was her. And that time you two fought and wouldn't speak to her? She was desperate to make things right. She came to me for help once—looked like she hadn't slept in days. You not talking to her was like her world had ended."

"Will, no one loves you like Ms. Foster does. When you got married abroad, she was heartbroken. Then, hearing you were unhappy, she flew overseas every week just to check on you and leave those thoughtful gifts. Now that you're divorced, and let's be honest—she never seemed invested in her marriage anyway—why don't you two finally get together?"

"Yes! Get together! Get together!"

The chant grew louder as others joined in.

Allen stood in a quiet corner, listening to stories of how deeply his wife had loved another man.

---

"Allen."

A voice behind him broke through his thoughts.

He turned to see Mrs. Foster and started to say "Mom," but caught himself and switched to a formal, "Ma'am."

Mrs. Foster sighed but said nothing. She handed him a folder of travel documents.

"I've arranged everything for your trip abroad. Your program starts soon, so I've booked your flight—it leaves in three hours. Is there anything else you need?"

Allen looked at the papers in his hands, trembling slightly with relief. The prospect of freedom, of starting fresh, overwhelmed him.

Taking a steadying breath, he placed the documents in his bag and shook his head.

"Thank you, ma'am. You've done more than enough."

After a pause, he added quietly, "Just one small favor. If Serene ever learns the truth and asks about me, please tell her you don't know where I am."

He had no desire to see Serene ever again.

Mrs. Foster looked surprised. "You mean you haven't told her you're leaving?"

What was there to tell? That he'd approached her deliberately years ago? That his unwavering devotion for five years wasn't love but obligation, following Mrs. Foster's plan to help Serene move on from Will? That he was leaving forever?

Even if he explained, what difference would it make? Her "true love" was back—his absence would mean nothing.

Allen smiled faintly. "There's no need. I'd rather leave quietly and avoid any drama."

"What do you mean, leave?"

The familiar voice cut through their conversation.

Allen turned to find Serene standing behind them, her dark eyes fixed on his. His heart jumped as he tried to gauge how much she might have overheard.

Mrs. Foster quickly intervened. "It's nothing. What brings you over here?"

Serene didn't push the issue. Her eyes moved to the cake on the nearby table. "Mom, it's time to cut the cake."

Mrs. Foster rubbed her temples and waved dismissively. "I'm not feeling well. You and Allen can do it."

With that, she let the staff help her upstairs, leaving them alone.

Serene turned to Allen, extending her hand. "Come on. Let's cut the cake."

Allen shook his head, raising his bandaged hand.

"I can't. My hand hasn't healed. Ask Will to do it.”

Surprise flickered across her face, as if his suggestion made no sense. Something felt off-balance.

"Why would I ask him?"

Now Allen was confused.

Why? Hadn't she always chosen Will? She'd flown across the world countless times just to see him. Now, when Allen was stepping aside, why did she look so bewildered?

He managed a slight smile. "You two are close. It's just cutting a cake—no big deal."

Seeing his calm expression, devoid of any anger, she hesitated but didn't argue. She walked to Will, leaned close, and whispered something.

Will's face flushed, but he nodded and took her hand as they stepped onto the stage together.

Piano music filled the room as they stood side by side, hands joined on the knife. The intimate scene looked less like a birthday celebration and more like a wedding.

---

As the night progressed, the older guests departed, leaving the younger crowd—those who had grown up with Serene and Will and knew their history.

Seeing them together, the crowd erupted in applause and started chanting.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Will's face turned crimson, and Serene's cheeks flushed pink. Though she didn't kiss him, she made no move to stop the chanting.

Allen remained unmoved. He checked his phone, calculating his departure time.

With his flight in three hours, he needed to leave now.

But to everyone watching, his quiet demeanor looked like a broken heart.