The typhoon hurled Mariah through the window, leaving her with multiple fractures.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, she overheard her husband Joseph speaking with his friend, a military doctor. Every word came through with cruel clarity:

“Compound fracture in the right leg, a puncture wound to the shoulder, and all ten fingernails torn clean off… Joseph, your wife’s injuries are severe. You were right there in the dormitory—why didn’t you go to her?”

“I had to retrieve Piper’s photograph first. It’s the only picture I have with her. I couldn’t let it be lost.”

The doctor sighed. “You really do care for Piper that much. Think back—when the Mariah family’s two sisters had only one provincial job assignment between them, if Mariah had kept her city broadcasting position, Piper would have been sent to a provincial theater troupe. You married Mariah just to secure Piper’s placement in the provincial capital, then you maneuvered your wife out to this remote island. Does Piper even know what you’ve sacrificed for her?”

“She doesn’t need to know. I only want to protect her, quietly.”

The truth struck without warning. All her confusion and helplessness suddenly made sense.

Mariah’s eyelashes fluttered. Bile burned her throat.

The two men in the ward noticed nothing.

Today was Joseph’s birthday. She had taken half a day off, hurrying back to their dorm to bake for him.

Joseph was a soldier. After their marriage, Mariah had given up her position as a provincial broadcaster to follow him to this island in the South Sea.

A full year of marriage, yet a distance always lingered between them.

Beyond their occasional physical encounters, she and Joseph remained practically strangers.

Mariah had felt wronged, but everyone—her parents, Joseph’s comrades—insisted he was simply reserved by nature, a cold man.

She had believed them. She had resolved to melt that ice with her own warmth.

So even after the weather station warned of the approaching typhoon, she had braved the rain to return.

All because Joseph loved her homemade pound cake.

But the typhoon intensified without warning. The wind snatched her through the window, and she caught on a tree branch ten feet above the ground.

“Help! Is anyone there?”

Her fingers clawed into the bark until her nails bled.

That was when she saw Joseph running toward the dorm through the lashing storm.

“Joseph! I’m here! Help me!”

Joseph stopped and looked in her direction.

A flicker of hope ignited in Mariah’s eyes. “Joseph…”

But he only gave her a cold glance before rushing into the dorm building without a second thought.

Mariah watched her husband vanish inside, then saw him appear in their room, frantically searching for something.

She cried out again. “Joseph! Help me!”

Joseph frowned impatiently and snapped toward the window, “Shut up! Stop making noise—hanging there a little longer won’t kill you!”

Mariah stared, unable to believe what she had heard.

Inside, Joseph ignored her distress. He kicked aside fallen furniture and pulled a photograph from a bedroom drawer.

Tenderly, he tucked it into his chest pocket as if it were a priceless treasure.

A soft *crack*.

One of her fingernails snapped.

The pain shot straight to her heart, nearly blinding her. Her grip failed, and she fell from the ten-foot branch.

A sickening *crunch*.

Something pierced her shoulder.

The air smelled of blood.

Mariah lay sprawled in the mud like a broken doll.

By the time rescue arrived, Mariah kept her eyes closed, feigning unconsciousness.

But her mind was painfully clear.

She knew it wasn’t Joseph who had saved her—it was the search and rescue team.

Now, lying in the hospital bed, she pressed her lips together tightly, her whole body trembling.

So, in your heart… I am worth less than a single photograph of Piper…

The two men in the ward still noticed nothing.

“Joseph, Mariah treats you well. Are you starting to feel something for her?”

The doctor’s question made Mariah hold her breath. A fragile hope stirred.

But Joseph’s next words plunged her into an icy abyss.

“…Don’t talk nonsense. What I feel for her is merely obligation.”

“I married her, so I’ll take responsibility. But my heart will always belong to Piper.”

The sentence was pronounced. Mariah could no longer lie to herself.

It had all been a lie.

He had never loved her.

Mariah remembered what the commander had said a few days earlier: the South Sea No. 37 Lighthouse needed a new keeper.

She clenched her fists.

Perhaps it was time to leave.

To go somewhere Joseph would never find her.

Soft footsteps approached the bedside. Joseph stood there for a long, silent moment, looking down at her.

Mariah endured the pain wracking her body—a silent, drawn-out execution.

The door pushed open. “Battalion Commander Joseph, could you come collect the medicine?”

“Coming.”

Their voices faded. Mariah opened her eyes and saw it at once: the jacket draped over the edge of the bed.

The one Joseph had been wearing.

Gritting through the pain, she forced herself up and pulled the photograph from its pocket—the one Joseph treasured.

In it, Piper wore a white dress, her smile bright and radiant. Beside her, Joseph gazed at her with a tenderness that seemed to melt the very air.

Behind them stood the large camphor tree outside the Mariah family home.

From the second-floor window, Mariah’s parents looked down, their expressions holding a gentle tolerance she had never received.

She had always known. Though she and Piper were twins, Piper had been frail since childhood, falling ill at the slightest change. Their mother believed Mariah had stolen her sister’s share of nutrients in the womb.

Her parents’ most frequent words to her were: “You have to give way to your sister. You owe her that.”

So Mariah grew used to yielding to Piper in everything. The only time she ever held her ground was when the provincial assignment came down.

Originally, the leadership had favored keeping Mariah at the Provincial Broadcasting Station as an announcer. When her parents found out, they made a scene, begging for an opportunity for Piper too.

Harassed beyond patience, the official said offhandedly that only one of the sisters could stay.

Of course, her parents seized Mariah and demanded she yield the position once more.

But Mariah—"ungrateful" as they called her—refused.

That time, things nearly escalated to severing ties altogether.

She endured every insult hurled her way. In the end, it was Joseph’s sudden marriage proposal that made her leave the provincial job for Piper.

Until yesterday, Mariah had never regretted her choice.

How could she, when she’d loved Joseph so desperately?

Then the typhoon destroyed everything.

Including the lie Joseph had so carefully woven.

*Plip.*

A few tears fell onto the photograph, blurring Piper’s delicate, smiling face.

“Mariah, what are you doing?”

Joseph’s low roar cut through the air.

A rush of movement—he shoved her aside, hard, and snatched the photo from her bandaged hand.

“Who gave you the right to touch my things?”

Carefully, he wiped the tears from the photograph before turning to Mariah, his eyes like shards of ice.

“It was just that I didn’t go to save you right away, wasn’t it? Isn’t an apology enough?”

Mariah studied him closely, taking in every nuance: the boundless tenderness he held for Piper, and the disgust he directed at her.

“Heh.” A low, choked laugh escaped her throat. The tears fell harder.

Joseph seemed to calm down, as if realizing his tone had been too harsh.

“…Don’t overthink it. When I was a kid, I nearly drowned. Piper saved me. I owe her my life.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze shifting to Mariah’s hand. “Next time, don’t touch my things without my permission. Understand?”

Mariah didn’t answer. She just wept silently.

Joseph’s frown deepened. Finally, his patience ran out.

“Mariah, when you married me, I told you. Following the army to this island would mean a hard life. You swore you weren’t afraid of hardship or exhaustion. What is this now?”

“The path of revolution is full of hardship. If you’re going to act spoiled, I’ll write the application immediately. You can go back to my hometown and take care of my parents.”

He put his jacket back on and shot her a cold glance.

“Your hand needs another debridement soon. I’ll tell the doctor not to use anesthetic. Consider it a lesson.”

There was no proper hospital on the island, only a modest military clinic.

When Mariah was wheeled into the treatment room, Joseph followed.

His friend, the military doctor surnamed Mason, was checking his instruments.

Joseph spoke up abruptly. “No anesthetic.”

Mason looked up, disbelief etched across his face. “What?”

Only Joseph’s eyes were visible above the mask—dark and cold as ink. Their chill made Mariah shiver.

“I said, no anesthetic.”

He repeated the words, deliberate and calm, as though discussing the weather.

Mason hesitated. “But it’ll be excruciating.”

Joseph cut him off, his gaze sharpening. “Do as I say.”

With a sigh, Mason relented. “Then you’ll have to hold her steady.”

Joseph’s hands clamped down on Mariah’s shoulders, his grip so tight she felt her bones might snap.

Her voice began to tremble. “Joseph, you can’t do this.”

His tone was utterly flat. “Keep your hand still.”

When the first drop of antiseptic touched the wound, Mariah gasped—a sharp hiss of pain.

It felt like a branding iron pressed into her flesh, the agony shooting from her fingertips straight to her brain.

Instinctively, she tried to jerk her hand back, but Joseph seized her wrist, pinning it down.

“Don’t move,” he ordered coldly, his hold unyielding.

“It hurts… it really hurts.”

Tears welled up and spilled over, tracing hot paths down her cheeks.

She had never imagined a day when Joseph would be the one causing her such pain.

Ignoring her, Joseph kept his eyes fixed coldly on Mason as the doctor continued dabbing at every wound with a cotton swab.

“Why…” she choked out, “why are you doing this to me?”

Joseph pressed his lips together, looking down at her from his height. “I’m teaching you a lesson. Remember this pain.”

In the eyes she had once loved so deeply, there was now only indifference—and a flicker of something almost like satisfaction.

Mason picked up a scalpel and began trimming the dead skin around the wounds.

The blade scraped against raw, sensitive tissue. A guttural scream tore from Mariah’s throat, her body convulsing in a desperate struggle.

Joseph was ready. He used his body to press her against the operating table, his knee pinning her legs, rendering her immobile.

“Joseph! Please, give me the anesthetic—I can’t take it anymore…”

She sobbed, her voice breaking apart.

Mason couldn’t bear it, glancing at Joseph. “Joe, maybe just a little anesthetic…”

“No,” Joseph refused without hesitation. “She hasn’t admitted she was wrong yet.”

Mason could only try to persuade Mariah. “Mariah, just apologize to him. Why put yourself through this?”

Mariah’s consciousness was starting to blur, her vision swimming with black spots. Only the pain remained crystal clear.

She remembered the first time she saw Joseph, smiling in the sunlight in a white shirt.

She remembered the gentle look in his eyes when he made her ginger tea late at night.

She remembered the firmness in his voice when he said, “I’ll always protect you.”

Those memories burst like soap bubbles, one by one, under the onslaught of agony.

All that tenderness had been an illusion. This was the real Joseph—a man who had never truly loved her.

Exhausted from crying, Mariah lifted her gaze, her voice so faint it was almost inaudible.

“I was wrong…”

The tension in Joseph’s jaw finally eased. “Mason, give her the anesthetic. The best one you have. Put it on my personal account.”

The imported stuff lived up to its reputation. The anesthetic took effect quickly.

Mariah lifted her head, her swollen eyes meeting Joseph’s directly.

In that moment, Joseph saw something in her gaze that made his heart lurch.

Not anger. Not hatred. But a complete, utter deadness.

Unsettled, Joseph looked away. He reached out and brushed a hand over Mariah’s sweat-drenched hair. “Good girl. I’ll go get some hot water to clean you up.”