Chapter 2

Five minutes later, Sienna texted back a [2].

Without asking why or where I had gone, she only sent a simple [2].

I smiled bitterly and took a deep breath to stay calm. Since I had decided to break up with her, I should let go of everything.

I opened the hospital website and made an appointment for surgery with trembling fingers.

It was already late at night when I got home. The house was quiet and pitch‑black.

I knew Sienna was already asleep.

Suddenly, I remembered that every time she worked overtime, I waited for her to come home. Even if I was extremely sleepy, I left a light on for her.

I turned on the flashlight on my phone and walked silently back to my bedroom. It was called a bedroom, but it was actually a converted study.

Sienna slept in the master bedroom alone. She said my breathing disturbed her when we slept together. She only came into my room when she had needs. After completing everything like a robot, she left without lingering for a single second.

Since I fell ill, she had not entered this room for a long time.

When I got up the next morning, Sienna was already having breakfast. As usual, she only made her own breakfast, listening to a financial podcast and browsing the news.

When I walked past her, she still did not give me a single glance.

The hydrangea on the balcony was bought on the day I was diagnosed with my illness. After just two days without watering it, it had withered and died.

For some reason, I suddenly felt agony.

I picked up a bucket and watered the hydrangea repeatedly, hoping it would come back to life.

However, the withered leaves and flowers fell off with the water, devoid of any vitality.

Suddenly, I lost all strength and collapsed to the ground, tears streaming down my face. I cried for the flower, myself, and this rotten seven‑year relationship.

Sienna at the dining table did not glance at me. She simply turned up the podcast volume to drown out my sobs.

I slowly stood up and walked over to Sienna. "Let us talk."

Sienna paused the podcast, placed her hands on the table with her fingers crossed, and tapped the surface lightly with her fingers.

Every time I tried to talk to her, she adopted this posture, eyes unfocused and expressionless.

I knew it was a sign she was distracted.

I asked anyway, "Did you see the breakup message I sent?"

She nodded.

A subtle, persistent pain welled up inside me, and I pressed on, unwilling to give up. "Do you not have anything to say to me?"

She looked at me in confusion. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.

Her phone alarm rang. She picked it up and walked past me.

She had no hesitation, as if I were invisible.

The moment the door opened, I heard a familiar male voice.

Ethan greeted me with a smile at the door. "Clint. Sienna is giving me a ride to work. Come along."

Having worked at the same company as Sienna for seven years, she always insisted on keeping work and personal life separate. She never gave me a ride, rain or shine.

Today was Ethan's first day at work, and she was already giving him rides.

A gust of wind blew in from the balcony, and I suddenly felt very cold. Instinctively, I reached to close the window, but tripped over a bucket of water, spilling water all over my pant legs.

I quickly picked up the bucket.

Looking up, they were already gone.

The sound of a car driving away was heard outside.