Chapter 1

Josephine Averly never imagined she would see Julian Faulkner again.

That day, she brought her six-year-old daughter to the hospital for a routine checkup. Her daughter had a congenital heart condition and required regular follow-ups.

But the moment she pushed open the door to the consultation room, she froze.

A man sat inside, focused on the computer, a pair of rimless glasses perched on the bridge of his high, elegant nose. His white lab coat was crisp and pristine, giving him a cool, distant air. Everything about him radiated quiet nobility and restraint.

Josephine's face drained of color in an instant.

She had originally booked an appointment with Dr. Wright, the hospital's top specialist. But he'd been called away for an emergency consultation, and at the nurse's recommendation, she had changed to another doctor.

"Dr. Faulkner just returned from overseas," the nurse had explained. "He's Dr. Wright's protégé. You'll find him in Cardio Room 8."

Now, Josephine stood rigid at the door, her fingers clutching the handle tightly. In a panic, she bowed her head and hurriedly pulled on a face mask.

Only one thought echoed in her mind, 'I need to leave with Julie! Right now!'

Seven years had passed. When had he come back?

Her life had been quiet and peaceful. She never once considered the possibility of crossing paths with Julian Faulkner again. Yet in this moment, it felt like her entire being had shattered. She didn't know how to react.

Instinctively, she gripped her daughter's hand.

Sweat dampened her palm, and her body trembled with tension.

Just then, Julian's voice rang out. "Come in."

Julian looked up toward the door.

Behind his glasses, his eyes were calm and detached. The moment their gazes met, Josephine's breath faltered.

At twenty-eight, he overlapped perfectly—and yet distantly—with the twenty-one-year-old boy in a crisp white shirt from her memory. The boy who once stood on a pedestal at Beller University, cold and untouchable, had secretly dated her, a girl who weighed nearly 90 kilograms.

She stared back at him with composure, biting down hard on her molars. Even the motion of turning to leave with her daughter was frozen in place.

His fingers tapped lightly against the desk. "Julie Averly, right? Let me take a look at the medical records."

Josephine forced herself to return to a semblance of calm, though her complexion remained pale. She reached up to touch her face, her fingers brushing against the mask that served as a small, fragile boundary that brought her back to her senses.

He hadn't recognized her.

Of course, he hadn't.

She was Josephine Averly now. No longer Phoebe Lancer from seven years ago. No longer the overweight girl he once dated in secret. She now stood at 1.7 meters tall, weighing just over 50 kilograms.

Julie walked over and sat quietly in the chair, letting him examine her.

From this close, Josephine could clearly see Julian.

His familiar, distant aura expanded in her chest like a cold wave, both foreign and hauntingly known. She reflexively rested a hand on her daughter's shoulder.

Her gaze drifted to his face.

He wore frameless glasses, and the coolness he radiated was palpable. Under his white coat was a high-quality white shirt.

He conducted the examination with meticulous seriousness, occasionally frowning before calmly stating, "Keep a close eye on her condition. It's best to plan for surgery within the next two to three years. You're probably aware of the cost."

His eyes briefly swept over the worn leather handbag looped over Josephine's arm. The black bag's handles were scuffed and peeling. Her white canvas sneakers had yellowed with use, and her jeans were faded from frequent washing.

Her clothing was modest and practical. She looked like the kind of woman unlikely to afford an expensive surgery.

He saw patients like this every day.

And yet, for some reason, he looked at her again, twice.

She was slim and tall, with fair skin. A low ponytail fell neatly behind her neck, and the mask covered most of her face. At a glance, she looked young, but her daughter was already six years old.

Stray strands of dark hair brushed her long neck. She had an air of quiet gentleness.

The woman lowered her gaze, never once meeting his eyes.

She stood behind her daughter like a statue—or a guardian.

The mask obscured most of her face, leaving only a pair of downcast eyes visible.

She hadn't spoken much since entering the room. Julian frowned slightly, mistaking her silence for disapproval. Perhaps she had hoped to see Dr. Wright and was disappointed by his younger substitute.

"If you're not happy with my diagnosis," he said, "I can transfer your case to pediatrics. Dr. Makhem should still be on duty. You're welcome to get a second opinion."

She nodded silently, her bangs concealing her eyes. In a low voice, she murmured, "Sorry to bother you."

She quickly gathered the papers scattered on the desk and left with her daughter.

Julian watched her retreating figure, the crease between his brows deepening. After she left, he adjusted his glasses and resumed his work.

He saw two more patients.

Then, during a short break, he brewed a pot of water and answered a call from Sean Campbell, his high school's class rep.

"Our Class 3 reunion is on the 20th. Everyone in the group chat who's still in Fleuris City has confirmed their attendance. You were always abroad before, but you're finally back this year. You have to come."

"We'll see," Julian replied. "I'll check my schedule once the roster is out."

"You're always so busy," Sean teased. "We've organized so many reunions, but only you and Phoebe never showed up."

At the mention of that name, Sean kept going, "Remember her? The heaviest girl in our class. After graduating from university, it was like she disappeared off the face of the earth. Do you still remember her?

"Hello? Julian, are you there?

"Hey, why aren't you saying anything?

"Bad signal? I can't hear you."

The kettle on his desk whirred and bubbled. Boiling water spilled over, soaking several sheets of paper. Still seated, Julian didn't move, the phone held to his ear, his expression unreadable. Behind his glasses, his eyes roiled with emotion.

The consultation room door was open.

A nurse passed by and rushed in. "Oh no, the water spilled everywhere! Dr. Faulkner, are you alright?"

Her voice brought him back to the present.

He stood up but didn't respond to her. Instead, he walked to the window, gripping the phone tightly.

"She never attended a single reunion?" he asked. His tone was calm, but his gaze had deepened.

"Who? Hey, is the signal bad on your end?" Sean replied, wondering if the connection was off. "You mean Phoebe? No, we've never been able to reach her."

Sean continued talking, but Julian had already tuned him out.

The young nurse blushed as she tidied his desk. She tried to start a conversation but quickly noticed the distant look on his face—lost in thought, unreachable.

Left with no choice, she quietly left.

Julian seemed suspended in his own world.

He had three more patients scheduled that morning. For the rest of the shift, he struggled to stay focused, only managing to get through the appointments with effort.

Afterward, he opened a drawer and took out a long, blue velvet box. Inside was a black fountain pen.

It had fallen recently and cracked. He'd used it for six or seven years, and the black lacquer was now chipped and worn from age.

The fall had damaged the nib, causing leaks. He'd just gotten it repaired. Now it sat unused, carefully stored in his drawer.

Julian rubbed his brow, a sudden wave of exhaustion washing over him.

…

Josephine sat on the bus with her daughter, lost in thought.

Her mind wandered back to that night—seven years ago—at a birthday party she would never forget.

It had been Julian's birthday.

Back then, she had approached the private room, her heart full of anticipation. But what greeted her wasn't warmth or celebration—it was laughter, sharp and mocking, slicing through the air like knives.

"Holy shit, what's that on Julian's neck? A hickey?! Don't tell me you slept with that fat chick!"

"No way, Julian. That fat girl is really your girlfriend?"

"Come on, man. It's the same with the lights off! Hahaha!"

"Are you serious, Bro? I saw the gossip thread on the forum and couldn't believe it. You're actually dating that fatty?"

"It's not like she didn't scheme her way in. I heard she used Sabrina's incident to blackmail Julian. Otherwise, why would he ever date a freaking pig?"

Then she heard Julian's voice.

Phoebe—who she had been back then—would never forget the sound of it for as long as she lived. Maybe his voice was too distinct, too rich, too deep. It cut through the singing, the laughter, even the ridicule.

"Yeah," he said coolly. "It's just a fling. I'm leaving the country soon anyway."

She had stood frozen outside the door, her eyes brimming with tears, her heart clenched so tight it felt like she couldn't breathe.

Julian came from one of the most prestigious families in the country, a world she never dared dream of entering. She had always known he would eventually go overseas. She had even told herself that after celebrating his twenty-first birthday, she would let him go and quietly end things.

But that already fragile love turned to ashes in the face of his cruel indifference and his friends' ridicule.

She had brought a gift for him—a black fountain pen.

It cost her two hundred dollars. She'd worked part-time for two months to save up for it.

His friends had laughed when they saw it.

"Where the hell did this cheap thing come from? Don't tell me the fatty gave it to you?"

"Julian wouldn't use this trash brand. Makes him look bad."

"Mommy—" A small hand suddenly tugged at hers, jolting her from the suffocating memory.

Josephine blinked, returning to the present, and quickly pulled Julie into a hug.

Josephine gazed at the little face in her arms. Julie's features were becoming more and more familiar as time passed. As Julie grew, her eyes and brows bore an uncanny resemblance to Julian's.

"Mommy, that doctor who saw me today…" Julie asked, "Is he my daddy?"