Chapter 4

The private room was brightly lit. The light shone directly on Julian's face. His expression was as still and cold as a marble statue.

Between his fingers, a cigarette smoldered—its ember had burned all the way to his skin, yet he didn't seem to feel a thing.

A faint scent of his scorched flesh reached his nose. But his nerves felt numb, like dulled wires.

Suddenly, he stood up, bent down, and picked up the jacket that had fallen to the floor.

His face remained composed, but beneath the surface, something dark churned in his eyes.

"There's an emergency at the hospital. I have to go."

He left quickly, almost like he couldn't stand to stay a moment longer.

Sean tried to catch up, but Julian had vanished down the corridor in a flash. Left with no choice, he turned back to the private room.

Inside, the chatter had slowed, and a girl who had remained silent most of the evening suddenly spoke up, hesitating at first, but her soft voice cut through the room like a blade.

"Haven't you heard the rumor?"

"What rumor?" someone asked.

"Phoebe and Julian both went to Beller University. They secretly dated for three years."

Gasps erupted across the room.

Cassandra's voice turned shrill. "Mona, are you out of your mind? Phoebe? That ugly fat girl? Julian would never stoop that low. Are you dreaming or delusional?"

"Exactly, Mona! You must be misremembering. If someone like Phoebe could date Julian, then I could've been his wife by now."

A male classmate muttered, almost defensively, "Well… she was chubby, but not ugly. She had really fair skin, and her voice was soft..."

Mona Fray nodded. "I was shocked too, when I first heard it. But it's true. My sister went to Beller University. The whole campus knew. It was this huge secret romance: the fat girl and the campus prince. If you don't believe me, ask Julian yourself."

But no one dared to.

Still, Mona sounded so certain that no one could quite dismiss her words.

"Wait… is Phoebe really dead?"

Cassandra, already fuming, scoffed. "Probably. Didn't Amelia just say she saw Phoebe with a huge tumor in her stomach?"

"Yeah, must be. Otherwise, how could no one reach her after all these years?"

In this age of data and digital footprints, complete disappearance usually meant just one thing.

At the end of the hallway, just as Julian turned the corner, he collided with someone.

He had been walking fast.

A soft, surprised voice cried out, "Oh—!"

The woman stumbled back, barely catching her balance. Instinctively, she grabbed onto something—his shirt.

By the time she steadied herself, she realized what she was holding.

"I—I'm sorry."

Josephine apologized quickly, raising her head. The moment her gaze landed on his face—handsome and unmistakably familiar—her lips blanched of color.

She hadn't expected to see him again.

Was the world really this small?

Julian muttered a brief "sorry" and brushed past her without pause. He was distracted, desperate to find space to breathe.

The faint, cool scent he carried still lingered in the air.

Josephine remained where she stood.

She'd only stepped out to use the restroom. How had she ended up running into the one person she once knew best?

Her eyes lowered, glancing at the floor.

A cufflink had fallen. It was elegant and finely crafted, clearly his.

She picked it up.

Then, almost without thinking, she turned to chase after him, walking a few steps before abruptly stopping.

There was no need. They were nothing to each other now.

To meet again and remain strangers—perhaps that was the best kind of closure.

…

After returning home and taking a shower, Josephine lay on her bed, her gaze fixed on the cufflink resting on the nightstand.

She reached out and gently brushed her fingers over it, her thoughts drifting.

His habits, his preferences—none of them seemed to have changed.

Back then, this had been one of his favorite brands. Niche, understated, and exquisitely crafted.

A sudden ringtone snapped her out of her reverie.

Seeing the caller ID, Josephine quickly answered the call.

"Hello, Grandma."

"Phoebe, why did you send me money again? I really don't need it. I'm just at home. There's nothing to spend on."

Hearing her grandmother's familiar mixture of scolding and concern, Josephine smiled. "Then just keep it for me."

They chatted briefly.

Work had been hectic lately. Josephine had originally planned to take Julie back to her hometown before the new school term started, but her schedule had been too packed. She now thought it might be better to wait until things settled down a bit, then bring her grandmother to stay with them for a few days.

Her grandmother was the only family she had left.

Just as they were about to hang up, her grandmother's voice came through again.

"Phoebe… your uncle, even though… well, he is your uncle. He came home a while ago and asked about you."

There was hesitation in her tone.

Josephine didn't want her grandmother to worry about such things.

Her parents had divorced when she was very young. Her mother left and never came back, not even when her grandfather passed away. Josephine had been just two years old. She barely remembered her mother.

As for her father, she only recalled that he was a gambler. When he lost, he disappeared. When he won, he'd occasionally buy her snacks. But more often than not, he dumped her at her grandparents' place and vanished.

It was her grandfather and grandmother who had raised her.

"I understand, Grandma," Josephine said gently.

But those words were more to reassure her grandmother than anything else. Josephine had no intention of reconnecting with her uncle and his wife. Not even if they lived in the same city.

After the call, she sealed the cufflink in a small plastic bag and put it away carefully.

That week, when she took Julie to the hospital for a routine check-up, she deliberately avoided Julian's consultation room. Since he saw patients every Tuesday, she always scheduled their visits for Monday or Wednesday.

Unfortunately, they still crossed paths.

The hospital was bustling with people, faces wore the same exhaustion and worry, etched deep by illness and haste.

Josephine wore a mask and held Julie's hand as they stepped into a packed elevator. People flowed in and out continuously.

A nurse's voice rang out, "Dr. Faulkner!"

Behind her, a deep, familiar voice responded.

Josephine instinctively tightened her grip on Julie's hand. She could feel Julian standing just behind her. She could even hear the rhythm of his breathing.

When the elevator reached the third floor, the crowd dispersed. Josephine, Julie, and Julian headed toward the same wing of the hospital.

Josephine lined up outside Consultation Room 6. She watched as Julian entered Room 8.

"Mommy, your hand is all sweaty," Julie said, suddenly looking up and swinging Josephine's hand.

Josephine lowered her gaze. Only then did she notice her palm was slick with cold sweat.

Every time she ran into Julian, tension would seize her body, even though she knew he wouldn't recognize her.

Seeing him again had been an accident, completely beyond her control.

But it still stirred something within her.

That night, she quietly left the cufflink he had dropped at the nurse's station.

…

Later at night, Josephine peeked into her daughter's room. Julie was fast asleep, hugging her bunny plushie tightly.

She looked so much like Julian, especially her eyes and her nose...

Josephine walked to the bathroom and glanced at her reflection in the mirror.

She looked pale and slender, with long hair falling loosely around her shoulders. Her irises shimmered faintly, and her lips were a soft pink blush.

No one would ever connect the woman in the mirror to the chubby girl from seven years ago.

In Fleuris City—a sprawling metropolis of over ten million residents—a chance encounter was nothing more than a fleeting moment between strangers.

…

That evening, Julian returned home.

During dinner, his dad, Shane Faulkner, let out a cold huff and set his utensils down. Vera Quinn shot him a warning look before turning to her youngest son.

Vera had married Shane in her early thirties. The year after their wedding, her dearest friend perished in a plane crash, leaving behind a twelve-year-old son, Harrold Cooper.

The Faulkner family adopted Harrold, and he later took the Faulkner surname.

It wasn't until Vera was thirty-three that she finally conceived a daughter, Rosalyn Faulkner.

Faulkner Group's operations were now largely run by Harrold and Rosalyn.

Then, at forty-five, Vera gave birth to twin boys—Nicholas and Julian. But twenty years ago, a kidnapping case that shocked all of Fleuris City shattered the family.

The twins were kidnapped, but only one survived. The younger son, Julian, made it out alive.

Vera's eyes turned red as she thought of the son she had lost.

But tonight was meant to be a cheerful family dinner. She quickly wiped her eyes in secret and turned her attention to her youngest.

Julian had always made them proud. From childhood to adulthood, he'd never given them a single headache, except in one area: romance.

Vera had even begun to worry there might be… underlying health concerns. His emotional life was a blank slate.

Now in her seventies, Vera was usually cheerful and easygoing. But tonight, she was upset.

"Julian, why didn't you show up to the meeting with the Moore family's heiress on Wednesday?"

Julian replied simply, "Mm."

"'Mm' what?" Vera massaged her temples. "That girl, Myra… I've seen her. She's beautiful, and she used to visit our house when she was little. Her grandfather and your grandfather were war comrades. The least you could do is meet her, get to know her. If you don't like her, fine—but you're almost thirty!"

Julian frowned slightly. "Alright then, just arrange it as you see fit."