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Chapter 3

Author: Icy Rabbit
Lucas assumed Wendy was upset about his time in the hospital. He hugged her around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.

"Wendy, meeting you is the greatest blessing in my life."

Wendy never wore perfume—only the light scent of her shampoo lingered on her.

To Lucas, it was intoxicating. His breathing deepened, and he tightened his arms around her.

Pain shot through her abdomen, where she had undergone surgery just that morning. Wendy's face paled as she inhaled sharply in discomfort.

Lucas released her immediately, his expression filled with concern.

"What's wrong? You look terrible," Lucas asked.

She forced a small smile as she replied, "Nothing. Just some stomach cramps."

Lucas pressed his warm palm against her lower stomach and pulled her closer.

"Let me warm you up."

Wendy did not resist. She closed her eyes.

Yet, no amount of warmth could cure her disappointment.

Meeting Lucas had been the greatest misfortune of her life.

The next morning, Wendy woke up early.

Lucas was awakened by some noise. He opened his eyes groggily and saw Wendy stuffing all her clothes into a suitcase.

He sat up, an alarm flashing in his eyes.

"Why are you packing? Are you going somewhere?" Lucas asked.

"I'm going to visit the orphanage and donate these old clothes." Wendy continued folding her clothes without looking at him.

In two weeks, she would leave. Lucas, a man accustomed to luxury, would never keep the cheap clothes she had bought. She would give them to the children who needed them instead of letting them go to waste.

Lucas exhaled in relief subtly. He knew Wendy had always been grateful to the orphanage and visited every month.

"I'll go with you," he said.

He had accompanied her many times before, but she did not want him there that day. It would be her last visit, her final goodbye.

Before she could refuse, Lucas' phone rang. He glanced at the screen and quickly stepped into the bathroom to answer.

"It's my boss. I need to pick up this call."

However, sound traveled easily in their tiny rented apartment.

A sweet, spoiled voice carried clearly through the door. "Lucas, I'm in a bad mood today. You have to keep me company. Come shopping with me."

Lucas agreed without hesitation.

He wore his usual apologetic smile when he came out and said, "I'm sorry, Wendy. My boss called me to work. I can't go with you today."

She met his eyes calmly and nodded.

"Alright, go ahead."

Without a second thought, Lucas dressed and left in a hurry.

Wendy thought of all the times he had left her behind in the past two years, always claiming that his boss needed him.

She had pitied him, thinking he was overworked. She had even suggested he look for another job, but he had only pulled her into an embrace, resting his chin on her head.

"I don't mind the hard work," he murmured.

"I just want to earn enough money to marry you and give you a good life."

Such sweet words had moved her deeply.

From then on, she had taken on extra errands to earn a little more money, thinking they were working toward a shared future.

She finally realized she had been a complete fool.

Wendy stopped by the store on her way to the orphanage. Even with little money left, she bought snacks for the children.

As she struggled to carry two large bags toward the subway station, she passed a cosmetics store and overheard a familiar voice.

"Just buy the whole set. Testing them one by one is a hassle."

She turned her head toward the voice's direction and saw Lucas smiling indulgently at a well-dressed young woman.

Despite his complaint, he held out his arm obediently while she smeared lipstick on it.

Even though two years had passed since Wendy last saw her—it was Natelie.

So that was where Lucas had been whenever he said his boss needed him.

Natelie pouted and said, "You're happy to spend all your time with that lowly girl, but shopping with me is a chore?"

Lucas looked at her with a fond smile. "How could I? I did all this to help you teach her a lesson, didn't I? Let's buy these and continue shopping. You have me for the entire day."

He instructed the salesperson to pack up the entire lipstick collection.

The salesperson, seemingly familiar with him, moved swiftly.

"Mr. Lucas, that will be 14,000 dollars. Thank you for your purchase."

Wendy slightly swayed when she heard the amount.

In two years of dating, Lucas's most expensive gift to her was a silver bracelet worth 14 dollars. Most of his presents were cheap trinkets—bracelets that cost a few dollars and keychains from street vendors.

Yet, that 14,000 dollars seemed nothing to him when it came to pleasing Natelie.

That was the real Lucas—carefree, extravagant, and utterly indifferent to her struggles.

Wendy had seen enough. She turned to leave, but the flimsy plastic bag in her hands tore, and the snacks she had bought for the orphanage spilled onto the floor.

The loud noise caught Lucas' attention.

Their eyes met.

For a brief moment, she saw it—the flicker of panic in his gaze.

Guilt.

Fear.

Unease.

Those were all the emotions of a man caught in a lie.
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  • Left in Darkness   Chapter 8

    When Wendy opened her eyes, she was wrapped in bandages from head to toe.The doctor stood by her bed, his expression filled with pity."You had too many glass shards embedded in your body. We had to operate for five hours to remove them all."The wounds on your body are minor. They will heal with time. But there's a deep cut on your face. The flesh was already torn when you were brought in. We stitched it up, but it will leave a scar unless you undergo reconstructive surgery."It will cost 1300 dollars to do the surgery. You should pay the fees now."She had less than 200 dollars left—far from enough for the operation.With difficulty, Wendy said, "Doctor, I—I'm not doing the surgery."The doctor frowned."Are you sure? The scar will be permanent. It's on your face."Every woman cared about her appearance, but she simply could not afford it.After a brief silence, Wendy nodded."Then, you may be discharged now. Just be careful not to get your wounds wet," the doctor said.

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