Chapter 2

Just then, someone beside me handed me a dry coat and a steaming cup of cocoa. "Put this on. You're suffering from severe hypothermia."

I looked up and met a pair of gentle eyes. It was the rescue team captain who had pulled us to safety earlier. His name tag read Luke Lawson.

"Thank you."

I took the cocoa. The warmth of the cup barely managed to ease the chill that had seeped into me.

Only then did Jacob notice the long gash on my right arm. The wound had already turned pale and swollen after hours in the rain.

I'd gotten it when the floodwaters started rising. Desperate not to be swept away, I'd clung to the rusted metal tower and scraped my arm against it.

He froze for a moment, panic flickering in his eyes. "How did you get hurt this badly? Why didn't you say anything?"

He leaned closer to examine the wound, his voice much softer than before.

Chloe suddenly leaned against his shoulder. "Jacob, I'm so dizzy..."

He immediately tensed and touched her forehead. "Why are you burning up? You must've gotten a fever from being out in the rain."

He turned toward the rescue worker in the driver's seat and called out, "Sir, could you drive faster? Someone has a fever!"

He didn't seem to remember that I'd spent three hours standing in the torrential rain too.

Chloe let herself fall into Jacob's arms as the vehicle jolted. He didn't push her away. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her.

I watched their reflections as they held each other, and my stomach churned.

For all these years, I'd always been the one brought along as an afterthought.

I'd thought that if I tried hard enough, if I was understanding enough, one day he'd finally put me first.

But just now, on top of that communications tower, when the water had risen past our ankles...

He'd given Chloe both the best chance of survival and his most heartfelt confession.

The vehicle stopped at the temporary evacuation center.

Jacob didn't hesitate for even a second. He scooped Chloe into his arms and rushed into the medical tent without looking back.

He didn't even turn around to see whether I'd followed or whether I needed help walking.

I held the warm cup of cocoa in both hands and watched their retreating figures disappear into the rain.

The obsession I'd carried in my heart for more than a decade was finally swept away by the typhoon.

...

Three days after the typhoon passed, the city news station resumed normal operations.

Coverage of the disaster recovery efforts became the station's top priority.

In the conference room, the director began assigning everyone their tasks.

The director looked at me. "For this in-depth report, Lena, you'll be taking the lead."

"No." Jacob, who sat across from me, interrupted him immediately. "Lena Foster was too wooden during the incident at the communications tower."

He looked at me, his tone entirely professional. "When faced with an emergency, she didn't even have the most basic camera presence.

"On the other hand, Chloe doesn't go into the field often, but her reactions in the moment are more genuine. They draw people in."

The entire conference room fell silent.

Chloe sat in the corner with her head lowered, looking almost embarrassed.

"I'll take Chloe with me for the disaster follow-up," Jacob said decisively, settling the matter. "She'll be my field host. Lena can stay at the station and write the s."

I stared at his utterly matter-of-fact expression. He hadn't even discussed it with me beforehand. He'd simply handed the story I'd spent half a month developing over to Chloe.

"Jacob, I've been following these leads for a long time," I said calmly.

"So what?" Jacob frowned, apparently irritated by my objection. "We're the station's golden duo. We're supposed to win the national journalism award. The way you're performing right now will only slow me down."

He tossed a file onto the table. "Look at the essays Chloe's written. They have so much warmth. Your copy is too dry."

The meeting ended, and I went to the break room to get some water.

Faint peals of laughter drifted in from outside the door.