With his words and actions, he shielded Nina so completely nothing could touch her.
That gentleness used to be hers alone.
Clarissa couldn't be bothered with them. She carefully set down a chrysanthemum.
Baby, I hope next time in heaven you choose your mom well. Don't get reincarnated to me again.
Behind her came Nina's deliberately surprised voice.
"Ethan, why doesn't this headstone have a photo or a name? Could it be a pet?"
"Honestly, I had someone check—this plot has perfect feng shui. I've always wanted to move my mom here!" She turned. "Clarissa, since it's just a pet, it doesn't matter where it's buried, right?"
"In your dreams!"
Clarissa's voice, rarely, rose. She was so agitated her chest heaved.
Ethan scoffed and called over the cemetery manager.
"How much is this plot? We'll buy it."
The manager looked troubled. "Sir, this isn't a matter of money. This plot already belongs to this lady, and besides, the dead deserve respect..."
"Name a price. Money isn't a problem."
He was speaking to the manager, but his gaze swept over her—intentional, pointed.
She understood him too well. He was warning her not to provoke him.
But buried down there was their child.
"Ethan, don't—"
Nina's red lips curved into a gorgeous arc. "Ethan, don't waste words with her. Just move the grave. Our moms deserve the best."
That woman who abandoned him and then regretted it—what right did she have to take her child's grave plot!
Clarissa lost all reason.
She rushed at Nina, and a hard slap landed on her face.
"Touch my baby and I'll kill you!"
"Y-you... you actually hit me!"
Nina seized the opportunity to cry and collapse into Ethan's arms.
Clarissa was immediately pinned down by several people. She'd already been injured at the wedding; she didn't even have the strength to struggle, let alone against these towering security guards.
Others grabbed shovels and started digging directly on her baby's grave.
The manager spun in anxious circles. "You can't do this..."
Clarissa was pressed hard into the dirt. She tried with everything she had to lift her head, her voice hoarse.
"Stop..."
"Ethan, you'll regret this..."
Her eyes were so red they were bloodshot, yet she still clearly saw the indifference in his gaze.
Yes. He had stopped loving her long ago.
So how could he care about their child?
At that thought, her heart—already shattered—seemed to go numb.
The next second, her vision went black.
...
The sharp smell of disinfectant pulled Clarissa back to consciousness.
By the bed, Anastasia Perez saw her open her eyes and sprang to her feet.
"Clarissa, you're finally awake! You have no idea how worried I was!" She gripped her hand. "How did you end up like this?"
Clarissa smiled weakly. A tear slid silently from the corner of her eye.
Anastasia's expression crumbled with heartache, her tone turning sharp. "I called Ethan so many times, and he actually blocked me!"
Clarissa gave a bitter smile. He must be "busy."
Newly married—how could he care about a stranger?
"Clarissa, what exactly is going on between you two?" Anastasia demanded. "I didn't find out until someone mentioned it—he actually married someone else? And the bride is his stepsister? What kind of mess is this!"
"Did he hit his head in South Africa? Everyone knows how much he loves you. Back then, for you, he didn't even want his life..."
"Forget it, Anastasia." Clarissa's voice was barely a whisper. "It's all in the past."
A past only her closest friends knew about.
Sophomore year of high school, right after the final bell. Clarissa was passing an alley when someone grabbed her and dragged her inside. If Ethan hadn't appeared out of nowhere and clung to that guy's leg with everything he had, she might have—
The one who risked his life for her back then was the same one tearing her apart now.
"He and I… it's over."
Anastasia's lips parted, then pressed shut. Meeting Clarissa's gaze—hollow, extinguished—she said nothing more.
"Get some rest."
Three days later, Clarissa walked out of the hospital and headed straight for the airport.
She packed light.
Over the past decade, Ethan had showered her with gifts—anything he thought she might like, he bought. Every single thing.
She left it all behind. A twenty-inch carry-on held her entire life now.
Before boarding, she sent one last message.
Leave according to the plan.
Then she tossed the SIM card and got on the plane.
The past dissolved into the clouds below. She never looked back—not once.
—
