Chapter 5

"I'm heading upstairs," Julian said as he rose from his seat.

Vera clutched her chest as she watched her youngest son's retreating figure.

Shane let out a long sigh. "That temperament of his is just like yours. He's nearly thirty, and while his peers are already married and raising children, all he ever thinks about is his work at the hospital."

"Hmph. So what if he takes after me?" Vera shot him a glare. "You can sleep in the study tonight. I'm going up too."

She had barely stepped onto the stairs when Julian, now dressed and ready, was already coming back down.

"Mom, the hospital just called. There's an emergency surgery. I need to go in."

Before she could react, he was already gone.

At the dining table, Shane slammed his hand down. "Look at that! That's your son. Spends every waking moment at the hospital. He's barely been home an hour, and now he's off again without a word. What kind of respectable family would want to marry their daughter to a man like that?"

"What are you yelling for?" Vera rubbed her ears. "He's my son, but he's yours too, remember? And Julian is just being responsible to his patients."

…

It was nearly 11:30 p.m. when Julian finally returned home from the hospital.

A cream-colored golden retriever trotted over lazily and rubbed against his leg. Julian reached down and gave its head a gentle pat.

He poured himself a glass of water and headed into his study.

The window had been left open when he left that morning. A breeze had scattered books and documents across the desk. He bent down and gathered them one by one.

Among them were medical records he'd recently been reviewing.

There were countless causes behind massive abdominal swelling.

The more he read, the more the strain showed. His eyes ached, dry and sore. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose, but the pressure wouldn't ease.

He glanced at his phone.

Sean had messaged him earlier that morning, but he hadn't replied yet.

Sean: [I asked Queenie. She was in the class next to ours, Class 2, back then. She was closest to Phoebe. She says she hasn't been able to reach Phoebe either.]

Julian stared at the message.

Even her closest friend couldn't get in touch?

He opened the class group chat. Forty-eight members. Most used selfies for their avatars, but six or seven chose different images.

He hadn't opened this app in years.

Phoebe had long since blocked him on Facebook.

He sent friend requests to the ones with image avatars.

Within minutes, three accepted.

They exchanged some shallow pleasantries, hinting at staying in touch, but none were Phoebe.

By the next day, the other three accepted as well.

Again, none of them were her.

Only one avatar remained.

Julian stared at it for a while, then tapped into the profile.

The user hadn't locked their feed, but there was nothing revealing. The avatar was a silly-looking girl in a low-resolution meme photo that looked outdated and offbeat.

Yet something told him… this was her.

That evening, just before dinner, Julian checked his phone again.

No response. The friend request remained pending.

He tried again.

This time, three preset questions were triggered and popped up.

[Why are you adding me as a friend?]

[Who are you?]

[Who am I?]

He answered.

[.]

[Julian]

[Phoebe]

A colleague nearby teased, "Dr. Faulkner, you've been glued to your phone all day. Waiting on a message from your girlfriend?"

In the hospital, Julian had no shortage of admirers. At that moment, several curious glances flicked his way.

Everyone was secretly eager for gossip.

After all, Julian had only just joined and already turned down the hospital director's daughter—a story that had made the rounds like wildfire.

One by one, female doctors had confessed. Nurses regularly brought him breakfast. Yet Julian remained cold and distant, completely uninterested in romantic entanglements.

As usual, Julian didn't bother to reply.

The male doctor who'd initiated the gossip gave an awkward laugh.

…

It was a week later, purely by chance, that Josephine opened the chat app and saw Julian's friend request.

The shock nearly made her drop her phone.

Josephine stared at the request and acted like she hadn't seen it.

Over the course of that week, Julian continued to check his phone, opening the app again and again. Every day, he visited her profile.

The friend request remained unanswered, like a stone tossed into the ocean.

Every break he got, his fingers instinctively reached for his phone.

It felt as if… she were really gone.

He had just finished a workout at the gym, blood pumping, muscles taut. His gray T-shirt clung to his body, soaked with sweat. Defined abs rippled beneath the fabric. As he tilted his chin slightly, sweat beaded on the bridge of his high nose and slid down the sharp line of his jaw.

He ran hard and fast on the treadmill, chasing the rush of dopamine—anything to avoid the nagging thoughts in the back of his mind.

He didn't want to believe it. He couldn't accept that Phoebe… might already be dead.

…

It was another quiet afternoon in the outpatient clinic.

During a brief break, Julian took out his phone and registered a new account.

Maybe… maybe Phoebe was still alive. Maybe she was just avoiding him. Just like back when they broke up, when she'd mailed back everything he had ever given her and cut all ties without the slightest hesitation.

Again, the three questions came into sight:

[Why are you adding me as a friend?]

[Who are you?]

[Who am I?]

Julian stared at them, increasingly irritated, and replied.

[Need to talk]

[Nick Holden]

[Phoebe Lancer]

Nick Holden was Class 18's athletic rep in their second year of high school. He was a star basketball player and something of a school legend.

Julian remembered watching Phoebe and Queenie deliver a love letter to Nick once. That afternoon, Phoebe's cheeks were flushed.

She had fair skin and wore the school's blue-and-white uniform. With her head slightly lowered, her long lashes fluttered. She held Queenie's hand as they bounced down the stairs together, giddy and light, like she had just experienced something truly joyous.

All over a love letter to Nick. Was it really worth being that happy?

Julian admitted that pretending to be Nick just to add Phoebe wasn't exactly noble. But in a moment of impulsive desperation, he had done it.

If she accepted, it would mean she was still alive.

There was a thorn lodged in his heart—too deep to pull out, too sharp to swallow. It festered inside him, aching with time.

That thorn had lived in him for seven years.

He had just returned to Veloria. In all those years, he'd dreamt of Phoebe a few times.

During his final year in university, before going abroad, he'd invited her to a hotel. They spent an entire day and night together. That night, Phoebe had been… unusually compliant.

In the beginning, their relationship had been a mistake. But somewhere along the way, he became addicted.

Julian eventually recognized it himself—he had peculiar tastes in intimacy. He didn't like being intimate in bed. He liked watching her cry. It stirred something darker in him.

Yes, Phoebe was chubby. But he was tall—1.87 meters—and athletic. Carrying her had never been a problem.

Before leaving the country, he had given her a card with 20,000 dollars on it.

When she took the money, he had felt genuinely pleased. She never liked accepting gifts from him. In their three years together, he'd bought her countless things, most of which she either returned or outright rejected.

He'd had to threaten to toss them in the trash just to get her to keep them.

That day, she curled up in his arms, her skin flushed. He told her to buy something nice for herself.

She nodded sweetly and said "okay."

Obedient. Soft-spoken. Just the way he liked her.

After he left the country, just a month later, his mother called to say a package had arrived for him.

"Just leave it there," he told her.

Julian struggled with jet lag and illness during his first few weeks abroad. Lethargic and disoriented, he hadn't reached out to Phoebe, but she hadn't contacted him either.

Their three-year relationship had been quiet. She was never one to message him first.

When he finally tried to reach out, he was met with a message: [This user has blocked you.]

Blocked?!

Julian, who was always top of his class and gifted from a young age, had never faced rejection like this before. He could have any girl he wanted. Why should she be the exception?

He wasn't even ending things. He was just going overseas. And she threw a tantrum?

So that was why she'd been so obedient before he left…

It was laughable and infuriating.

When he returned home for New Year's, he found the package sitting in his study.

The sender's name was Phoebe.

Julian's temples throbbed. His breathing grew shallow as he opened it.

Inside was everything—every single thing he had ever given her during their three years together.

She'd even included a card, consolidating every transaction he had made to her account.

Each item was labeled with a sticky note: the time, the place, and the occasion he gave it to her.

She had noted the cost of each thing, everything from meals, down to hotel stays. Nothing was missed.

The most expensive gifts were a few designer handbags, a bracelet, a necklace, and a wristwatch. They totaled over 70,000 dollars. They were all still brand new, never worn.

Then came the cheaper things. Daily-use items. Shared meals.

Julian's head pounded. His chest grew tight. In a sudden rage, he kicked the box, sending everything tumbling across the floor.

Among the scattered contents were two unopened boxes of condoms.

They landed at his feet, mocking him. Mocking him for being a fool.

She had ended things with brutal clarity, as though she couldn't bear a single lingering connection.