Chapter 5

When she woke up, Claire was in the hospital.

The curtain beside her hospital bed was drawn shut, but she could still hear Shirley crying on the other side. "Floyd, you were out of your mind back there. To save Claire, you almost got hit by that truck yourself!"

Other classmates joined in with chiming voices.

"Yeah, Floyd. Don't tell us you've fallen for Claire? Why else would you risk your neck just to save her?"

...

Silence hung behind the curtain for a moment before Floyd's cold, detached voice rang out.

"You're overthinking it," he said. "I only saved Claire because we teased her with that button and misunderstood her today. I didn't want her to hold a grudge and cause trouble to ruin Shirley's admission to Yewhaven Unversity."

A long silence followed before Shirley asked softly, "Is that really the only reason?"

"What else would it be?" Floyd's tone grew impatient. "Do you guys honestly think I'd fall for a useless, airheaded bimbo like Claire?"

Those descriptors landed heavily on Claire's heart. Once, she had cried through the night because Floyd mentioned she was too loud. But this time, she felt nothing at all.

She merely closed her eyes, letting out a long, quiet breath. So, that was why Floyd had saved her.

That was great. Now she didn't have to worry about owing him anything ever again.

Fortunately, neither Claire nor Floyd suffered any serious injuries. They were discharged that very day.

The next day was the deadline set by the school for students to clear out their dorms. Since everyone had graduated, the dorm managers were unusually lenient, breaking protocol to allow male students into the girls' dormitories to help carry luggage.

Claire and Shirley shared the dorm room, so halfway through packing her belongings, Claire saw Floyd and a few boys from his class walk in.

Treating them like air, she continued packing her things until a roommate suddenly gasped. "Wait! What's this?"

Claire paused and looked down, only to realize she had pulled a scarf out from the back of her closet. It was a pristine white scarf. Unlike machine-made fabrics with perfectly uniform stitching, it was clearly hand-woven.

The roommate realized what it was immediately, covering her mouth in shock. "Wait, Claire, I remember this! Isn't this the scarf you were knitting for Floyd? Oh my gosh, you finally finished it?"

Floyd's hands froze on the box he was holding.

Memories flashed through his mind. On his birthday last year, Claire had prepared 18 gifts for him, only to meet his rejection.

Her eyes had dimmed for a second, but in the next one, she had looked up with sparkling eyes and chirped warmly, "Since you don't like getting too many gifts, I'll just give you one next year, okay? How about a scarf?"

Her eyes had crinkled into crescents as she smiled. "A white scarf—just like the one you wrapped around my legs that time, alright? Even though your birthday is in the summer, you can wait a few months and wear it when winter comes."

And so, Claire had eagerly started knitting the very next day. From then on, every time they met, Claire would chatter about the scarf.

"Floyd, you have no idea how hard it is to knit a scarf. My fingers are practically tying themselves into knots. But it's fine. I'll keep practicing, and by your next birthday, I'll have made something pretty for you."

And now... she had finally finished it. Floyd's fingers curled inward unconsciously, but before he could process his thoughts, a sharp cry rang out.

Floyd snapped back to reality. He quickly put down his box and rushed over. "What happened?"

A stray nail sticking out of the bed frame had scraped across Shirley's calf, leaving a gash dripping with bright red blood.

"You're bleeding heavily!" The other girls panicked instantly, frantically searching around for something to stop the bleeding.

But with the dorm nearly cleared out, there was practically nothing on hand, until one girl blurted out, "Why don't we use the scarf Claire knitted?"

Floyd froze abruptly, turning his head instinctively toward Claire. He expected her to refuse right away, but to his surprise, she set the scarf down with an indifferent expression. "Suit yourselves."

With Claire's permission, the roommate immediately picked up the scarf to wipe away Shirley's blood, only for Floyd to grab her arm, stopping her.

He looked up at Claire, who was quietly packing her remaining belongings, and gritted his teeth. "Claire, didn't you knit this with your own hands?"

He remembered vividly how her eyes used to shine like a galaxy of stars whenever she talked about this scarf. Yet now, she was agreeing to let someone use it to wipe blood so casually?

Claire paused, but before she could say anything, Shirley burst into tears from the pain. Instantly casting everything else aside, Floyd instinctively grabbed the scarf and pressed it firmly against her wound to stop the bleeding.

By the time he came to his senses, the bright red blood had already soaked through the pristine white scarf.

It was a stark and jarring sight, but Claire only let out a faint laugh. She packed the last of her things and prepared to leave the dorm room.

Just as she reached the doorway, Shirley let out an even more agonized scream, her face turning deathly pale. "Ouch! It hurts so much! There's something on this scarf. It burns my wound so badly."

Floyd froze, but in the next instant, his head jerked up.

He grabbed Claire's wrist in an iron grip, his face thunderous. "Claire, what did you put on this scarf?"