Chapter 1

I was lying on the hospital bed, vomiting blood for the third time, while he was carefully asking Pure Love how many grams of brown sugar the traditional medicine needed.

The nurse urgently pressed for payment, and I had to call Eames nine times before he finally answered.

When Eames showed up, he impatiently slapped his bank card on the bedside table, "Sophie still needs to rest. Stop bothering me with these little tricks of pretending to be sick."

I curled up under the blanket, clutching my stomach cancer diagnosis, listening to him talk on the phone with Sophie, his voice so tender it could drip water.

"Don't be afraid, I'll be right there."

Ten minutes later, my phone displayed Sophie's latest social media post.

The girl was holding a caviar brown sugar pot, happily writing, "It feels so good to be cherished by someone."

My heart twisted like a knife, and I completely gave up hope.

I immediately crossed out the family member section on the death notice and, with tears in my eyes, signed my own name.

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1

Eames left, and I lay alone in the hospital bed. Two nurses pushed a cart into the room to change my dressings, chatting quietly.

"Hey, did you see the special care room upstairs? That girl is so lucky!"

The young nurse's eyes sparkled with envy. "I heard she was just admitted for period discomfort, but her boyfriend booked the entire VIP floor. He's been by her side all night, even peeling fruit and feeding it to her!"

"Don't you know who her boyfriend is? It's Mr. Harrington from Huo Corporation, the one always on financial news! Who knew his girlfriend was so beautiful. They're truly a perfect match."

I closed my eyes, my fingers clenching the sheets tightly.

No one knew I was Eames's real girlfriend. He had barely visited in the days since I'd been admitted.

Last week, he came to see me while visiting Sophie in the hospital. Seeing the blood on my tissue, his first response was suspicion.

"When did you learn to fake it with ketchup, Frostine? I don't have time for your games."

The nurse changing my dressings didn't notice my distress and continued, "I just saw him comforting that girl in his arms. He was so incredibly gentle."I turn away, trying to distract myself, but as soon as I open my social media feed, Sophie's update is right there.

The girl is holding a caviar brown sugar pot, happily posting, "It feels so good to be loved by someone."

In the photo, a delicate silver chain adorns her slender wrist, with a small hand-carved Buddha pendant hanging from it.

I stare at that necklace, my fingertips unconsciously curling, my heart aching with a sharp pain.

That was the gift I had prepared for Eames six months in advance.

To make the Buddha carving look authentic, my fingers were scarred and battered by knives and drill bits. For a while, even using chopsticks was a struggle.

But now, it has been casually given to someone else, becoming a testament to their love.

Look at that, my sincerity is worth so little.

For instance, on Eames's birthday, I baked a cake with my own hands while running a high fever, waiting for him until late into the night.

That day, he barely glanced at the cake, didn't even touch a fork, and hurriedly left after receiving a call from Sophie.

"Sophie is back in the country, I need to go pick her up."

Later, I saw photos of them having dinner together on a mutual friend's social media.

A group of friends surrounded them.

He looked at her with a smile, his gaze as tender as if he was gazing at the whole world.Childhood sweetheart, childhood sweetheart, reunited after years apart.

What a beautiful story.

And I'm just a side character not even worthy of having her name mentioned.

But clearly, in the beginning, it was Eames who first came to bother me.

"Miss? Miss Frost?" The nurse's voice pulled me back to reality, "Your hand is shaking, are you feeling unwell?"

I looked down at the back of my hand, covered in countless needle marks, and suddenly laughed, "It's nothing, just a bit cold."

The young nurse tucked in my blanket, "Would you like me to call your family to bring a quilt?"

"No need."

I came to Boston alone for Eames, how could I have any family in this place thousands of miles from home?

The nurse finished changing my dressing and checked my IV drip before speaking again: "Miss Frost, you still need to call a family member to come. The death consent form issued by the doctor requires a family member's signature."

I froze for a moment, then forced a smile.

"I don't have any family."

She hesitated, seemingly not expecting such an answer, and awkwardly said: "Then... can you sign it yourself?"

I took the pen, my fingers trembling so much I could barely hold it.