When Tracy struggled awake again from endless darkness and unbearable pain, she found herself lying in a hospital ward.
The door opened softly, and footsteps approached.
Even without opening her eyes, she could sense that familiar presence—Alston.
He stopped beside her bed, standing there in silence for a long moment. His gaze lingered on her face—so pale it was almost translucent, streaked with traces of tears that hadn’t yet dried.
“How do you feel?” he asked quietly.
Her eyes stayed shut. Her long lashes trembled violently, but she refused to open them.
With all the strength she could muster, she turned her body to the side, presenting her back and the back of her head to him.
The motion pulled at the wound on her back, sharp pain radiating through her spine until her body curled up involuntarily. But she would rather endure that physical agony than look at him again—or grant him a single word.
Watching her slender shoulders tremble faintly from the pain, seeing the clear tracks of tears still glistening on her face, Alston felt that strange, uncontrollable ache twist inside his chest once more.
His gaze drifted, almost unconsciously, until it fell upon her hair spread across the pillow. Among the blonde strands, he caught sight of her small, faintly visible fair ear—and on it, a tiny black mole.
That mole…
His pupils contracted sharply. A blurred but vivid image flashed through his mind. Many years ago, by that icy lake, a little girl had jumped into the water to save him without any hesitation.
When she was pulled ashore, drenched and shivering, a lock of wet hair had slipped aside, revealing… a tiny mole on her ear. The same position. The same shape.
His breath caught at the memory. Without thinking, he blurted out, “Tracy… when you were a child—at the orphanage in the west of the city—did you… Did you ever save someone?”
The question sounded absurd the moment it left his mouth.
He quickly shook his head, trying to drive the ridiculous thought away.
That incident—no one but him and his rescuer knew the details.
Besides, Avril had admitted it herself. She’d described everything perfectly—the clothes he’d been wearing, the pocket watch that had fallen into the water… How could it possibly have been Tracy?
But at his question, Tracy’s body stiffened ever so slightly.
Her dry, pale lips parted. Fragments of a long-buried memory seemed to stir awake at the edge of her mind, pried open by his words.
She was just about to speak when suddenly, the door burst open with a loud crash.
Avril stumbled in, panic written all over her face.
“Alston! It’s all my fault! I-I made a terrible mistake!” She threw herself into his arms, crying uncontrollably. “I just wanted to draw on her skin with a pen, but it didn’t look real enough, so I thought—what if I tried a tattoo instead? I never meant to hurt her! I didn’t know it would go wrong! I didn’t mean it!”
Alston frowned. His gaze moved from the trembling woman in his arms to the silent figure on the bed, still turned away from them. His voice sank low.
“Avril, this time you went too far. Apologize to Tracy.”
Avril turned immediately toward the bed, her tears streaming down her cheeks. “Tracy, I’m sorry. Please forgive me…”
But Tracy didn’t move or respond. It was as if she hadn’t heard a thing.
Her silence made Avril’s sobs sound all the more awkward and only deepened the restless frustration in Alston’s chest.
In the end, he said nothing more. He put his arm around Avril’s shoulders and led her out of the ward.
After they left, Tracy remained in the hospital for a few more days.
During that time, she scrolled aimlessly through her phone, numb and detached. The screen suddenly lit up with Avril’s latest post on Instagram: a collage of nine photos—intimate shots of her and Alston dining at a high-end restaurant.
And on her ring finger gleamed a dazzling diamond ring.
The caption read: [Thank you for your promise. Please take care of me for the rest of my life!]
Below were rows of comments from their mutual friends offering blessings and envy.
Tracy stared at that blinding diamond ring, but her eyes were empty. There wasn’t even a ripple left in her heart.
Just then, her phone chimed with two text messages.
[Notice: Your identity cancellation request has been processed. All related documents are now invalid.]
Her father called soon after, telling her that all the surveillance footage from that year had been found, and that the plane would depart in two hours.
After hanging up, her hands trembled as she opened the files her father sent—videos proving she was the one who had saved Alston all those years ago.
She copied the footage to a flash drive and sent it to Alston’s address by courier.
Then, she forced her battered body to sign the discharge papers, pack what little she had left—barely enough to fill a single bag—and walked out of the hospital.
She stood by the busy street, the city’s night air brushed across her face, carrying the noise and chill of the traffic.
As she gazed at the skyline, she felt a strange relief in her chest—a freedom she hadn’t felt in years.
Finally, she was leaving this city of lies and deceit for good. She was leaving it all behind to begin her new life.
She raised her hand to hail a cab.
But all of a sudden, a strong arm snaked around her neck from behind!
A rough hand pressed a soaked cloth tightly over her mouth and nose.
The pungent, chemical smell burned her lungs. In an instant, her breath caught, and her vision spun.
She didn’t even have time to scream before everything went black.
