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.”

His retreat was practically a flight of shame.

Mariah stared after him without a word.

Dr. Mason paused in wrapping the gauze, his tone pointed. “Mariah, some things just aren’t meant to be. Better to let go early.”

Slowly, Mariah turned her gaze to him. “Joseph… has always loved Piper?”

Dr. Mason nodded, a hint of indignation in his voice. “Yeah. If you hadn’t taken that coveted headquarters posting, Joseph would’ve already proposed to Piper…”

The words out, he seemed to realize he’d spoken out of turn, licking his lips in a clumsy attempt to cover it up.

“But anyway, you two are married now. If you just… don’t make an issue of it, Joseph will keep his promise.”

Mariah looked down at her now-bandaged hands, a self-mocking twist pulling at the corner of her lips.

“No wonder,” she said softly. “From the proposal to the wedding, he had everything prepared in advance. None of it was ever meant for me.”

Dr. Mason let out a derisive snort. “Your parents, your brother and sister-in-law—they all knew the truth. Only you were kept in the dark, thrusting yourself into the role of the other woman.”

Mariah could feel Dr. Mason’s contempt.

If even a bystander could feel such righteous anger, how much more must Joseph, the one who’d made the choice, resent her?

Only now did Mariah finally understand. Joseph didn’t just not love her; he was filled with outright hatred.

How laughable. Mariah, you’ve been a fool from start to finish.

And it was in that moment she finally made up her mind.

She was leaving.

Even if the road ahead meant guarding a desolate, uninhabited lighthouse, she would no longer beg for this counterfeit affection.

When Joseph helped wipe the sweat from her brow, Mariah seemed utterly vacant, quiet and still.

He escorted her back to the ward, his movements noticeably gentler. “The base is going through reconstruction these next few days. I might not have time to come by. You stay here for now. If you need anything, tell Mason.”

Mariah nodded slowly. “Understood.”

Joseph let out a long, heavy sigh. “Be good. I won’t treat you like that again.”

Mariah uttered a single, flat word. “Oh.”

Before leaving, he promised he’d visit when he had time.

But he was busy for the better part of a month. By the day Mariah was discharged, he still hadn’t reappeared.

Leaning on her crutch, she limped her way to the base commander’s office.

Her face was still pale, but her gaze was unwavering.

“Sir, isn’t that remote watchtower station short a keeper? I’m applying for the post.”

“Ms. Carter, that place is in the complete opposite direction from here. Besides the lighthouse staff, there’s no one else on the island. And once your application is approved, you must serve there for a full three years. Are you absolutely certain you want to go?”

Mariah nodded firmly. “Certain.”

The commander looked at her bandaged hands and heaved a long sigh.

“Your dedication to service under these circumstances is noted and appreciated. If you have any needs, you can bring them to me.”

Mariah offered a small smile. “Thank you for your concern, sir. I don’t have any other requests.”

As long as she could get away from Joseph, that was the best possible outcome.

Holding her transfer approval document, Mariah made her way to her newly assigned quarters.

Unexpectedly, Joseph had returned ahead of time.

He was there with his men, cleaning the room.

“Get that spot clean over there. And the windowsill—don’t leave any dust.”

Joseph’s voice held a slight lift, as if he were in a good mood.

Mariah stood at the doorway, her thoughts stirring.

Was he so happy because she was discharged and coming home?

Was this thorough cleaning meant to be a surprise for her?

Clutching the approval document, she felt deeply conflicted.

Just then, Joseph brought out a pot of freshly picked flowers.

“Put this on the windowsill too.”

A gentle smile graced his face.

“Piper loves tulips. I picked a bunch specially. She’ll see them as soon as she arrives this afternoon.”

Mariah’s hand trembled. The approval document slipped from her grasp, fluttering silently to the floor.

Piper was coming to the island?

And arriving this very afternoon?

So Joseph’s meticulous cleaning and tidying were to welcome his beloved, not for her.

A young soldier helping wipe the windows grinned and asked, “Major, is Piper pretty? Can you introduce us?”

Joseph’s face instantly turned cold. “What nonsense are you thinking? Get back to work.”

The soldiers exchanged uneasy, complicated glances.

It was then that someone spotted Mariah standing in a corner outside the door. “Ma’am?”