Five years ago, Warren’s career reached its peak—his moment of glory.
And for his success, I didn’t hesitate. I agreed to undergo artificial cornea implantation surgery.
But the surgery was far from perfect. The artificial cornea was still an experimental technology, flawed and unreliable. No one could guarantee the results.
I was little more than a test subject. The materials used were cheap, and now, after years of wear, my vision was failing. Everything before me was a blur—I could barely make out shapes, let alone faces.
Blindly, I reached down, fumbling for the check. When my fingers found it, I let out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh before making my way to the payment counter.
But when I tried to cash it, I was met with cold indifference.
"The check is invalid. It can't be processed."
For a moment, I stood there in stunned silence. Then, almost instinctively, my thoughts drifted back to Warren.
When we broke up, I made sure he hated me. I sneered at his gaming dreams, mocked his future, and told him I wanted nothing to do with someone who couldn’t even see the path ahead.
I walked away without looking back.
The boy who never cried—no matter how hard life was, no matter how exhausted he became—fell to his knees that day, begging me to stay.
But I knew the truth.
We had loved each other too deeply, and I couldn’t bear for him to suffer, not even for a second. If I stayed, he would have found out about the cornea transplant. He would have worried, taken care of me, sacrificed his dreams.
I didn’t want to be the reason he was held back.
So I left.
Even if it meant being hated. Even if it meant never being forgiven.
Fortunately, he achieved his dream.
My thoughts snapped back to reality. Just as I was about to leave, Belinda appeared beside me, holding a medical report. Her eyes widened in surprise upon seeing me, but then, with a smug smile, she shook the pregnancy test results in my face, flaunting them like a trophy.
"See this? If you have any shame left, don’t ever appear in front of Warren again."
I had no intention of engaging with her. Without a word, I stepped past her.
But the next moment, she lunged forward, crashing to the ground with a dramatic gasp. Panic filled her voice as she clutched her stomach.
"My child! Ivy, how could you be so cruel? I know it upsets you that I’m pregnant with Warren’s baby, but the child is innocent!"
I froze.
Before I could even process her act, a sharp slap landed across my face.
The force was staggering, sending me a step backward. My ears rang, and my skin stung.
Warren stood before me, his eyes burning with anger and disappointment.
"Ivy, I never thought you’d stoop this low!"
Belinda whimpered, and I watched as he gently helped her up, his touch filled with concern.
It was in that moment that everything became painfully clear.
"Warren, after all these years, do you really believe I would do this?"
His expression remained cold, unmoved.
"If it wasn’t you, then what? Are you saying Belinda fell on her own and framed you?" His voice dripped with sarcasm. "I thought maybe you had your reasons, maybe you were struggling—but first, you beg for money, and now you hurt people? How could you be so heartless?"
A sharp pain stabbed through my chest. After everything, was this truly how he saw me?
"It's okay, Warren," Belinda said weakly, clutching her stomach. "I don’t blame her… Fortunately, the baby is fine. But I—I feel a little uncomfortable. Let’s see a doctor, just in case."
"Of course. Let’s go."
Without sparing me another glance, he carefully supported her as they walked away.
I watched them disappear down the hall, my vision blurring—not just from my failing eyesight, but from something far deeper.
This time, I truly wanted to give up.
He was doing better, moving forward with his life. Maybe it was time for me to stop holding onto the past. Maybe I could finally accept the darkness.
But life has a way of forcing you to start over just when you’re ready to surrender.
That evening, while I rested in my small rental room, a loud knock startled me awake.
The landlady stood at the door, arms crossed, holding a roll of bills.
"Two thousand. Pay up."
I swallowed hard. I had spent every last cent on medical expenses. There was nothing left.
She studied me for a moment, then sighed.
"I’ll arrange a job for you," she said finally. "Work hard, and you’ll find a way forward."
The job she found was audio editing. She knew about my worsening eyesight and chose something I could manage—something that relied only on sound.
At that moment, I wanted to thank her.
She didn’t say much, only reminded the others to look after me.
But fate wasn’t done with me yet.
Because that was when I met Warren again.
