Earlier that day, Tristan had been pacing like an ant on a hot pan, growing more frantic by the minute. The dread gnawing at his conscience spread through his whole body.
The moment he got off the plane, he sped straight home, ignoring every message and call from his assistant.
"Celine! Where are you?!"
Just as he was frantically searching for me, I stepped through the door.
The second he heard the sound, he bolted toward me and pulled me into his arms.
"You're back—" he didn't even finish the sentence before tightening his embrace.
His voice trembled, and his arms wrapped around me with desperate strength—warm, overwhelming, almost suffocating. My mind went blank for a moment.
He held me tightly, inhaling every trace of my scent like he was trying to confirm I was truly alive and safe.
A droplet fell onto my shoulder.
He... was crying?
In ten years, I had never once seen him shed a tear. He was the type to swallow every emotion, never losing control in front of me.
"What's wrong?" I asked, attempting to push him away from the embrace that was becoming a little too tight.
He didn't answer. His grip didn't loosen, only softened slightly.
Half an hour later, he finally calmed down enough to explain why he came back so suddenly.
The child's story was heartbreaking. My throat tightened.
"Don't worry. That beast of a father has paid the price."
"That's good," I murmured. I unknowingly sneezed a few times.
The early winter wind seeped in; I had gone out dressed too lightly, and a shiver ran through me.
My eyes drifted to the glossy black mink coat. I forced a little smile and turned to head upstairs to change.
Tristan noticed and reached for the coat to place it over my shoulders.
"Celine, why didn't you listen to me and wear a coat?"
The fur settled on my shoulders, and I sneezed again. I was about to explain when his quiet mutter brushed past my ear.
"...Why is it this one?"
His voice was soft, but I heard every word.
He quickly typed something on his phone—clearly messaging his assistant.
I didn't understand what he meant, but before I could ask, he grabbed my hand.
In the next instant, I found myself being whisked to the city's newest luxury mall.
Anything my eyes lingered on for more than a second, he waved at the staff to pack up. Everything was carried straight into the truck following behind us.
In half an hour, the truck was filled to the brim with branded shopping bags.
People passing by stared in disbelief. I tried to refuse, but he was unwavering.
"Celine, I want everyone to know—you are my life."
For a moment, I felt dazed.
It was like stepping back in time to when we first met—when he loved fiercely, recklessly, and treated me like I was the center of his world.
Just as I was about to look deeper into his eyes, a sudden ringtone shattered the moment.
It was Jasmine.
He instantly hung up, but her bold, glamorous profile picture flashed across the screen—just long enough for me to see it.
That single call shattered the last fragile illusion.
I inhaled slowly and told him calmly that he didn't need to spend money on me.
"It's getting late. I'm not feeling well, so I'll head home first."
I gently pulled my hand away and turned to leave.
Seeing my face had gone pale, he immediately rushed after me.
"Celine, are you okay? I'll take you to the hospital. Your eyes haven't been rechecked for a long time—I'll go with you."
Earlier that morning, the doctor had reminded me to come back in a few days for another check-up. I had completely forgotten.
His gaze was cautious, waiting for my answer.
Maybe today was the day to tell him the truth.
Taking a deep breath, I nodded.
Five minutes later, we arrived at the best hospital in the city. As with my previous check-ups, I was scheduled for a full examination.
Jasmine called again. As he was preparing my medical documents, he accidentally hung up on her.
"Why isn't he answering my calls?"
Annoyed, Jasmine slammed her phone on the floor. The noise of the crowd around her only worsened her irritation.
"Patient number seventeen, please proceed to the exam room..."
The overhead announcement echoed. Jasmine picked up her phone, grabbed her paperwork, and walked into the consultation room.
