On the day we broke up, I deliberately poked right at his deepest wound. "Every time I look at those hands, it makes me sick to my stomach." Years later, he became my father's attending physician. Before discussing the medical chart, he looked at me with chilling indifference and asked: "Ms. Davis, my hands won't cause you any physiological discomfort, will they?" 01 Yesterday, a friend called and told me there might be hope for my dad's condition. Their hospital had just hired a Dr. Sterling, who recently returned from studying abroad. His exact area of research was my dad's rare disease. But I never in a million years expected Dr. Sterling to be Liam Sterling. "Dr. Sterling is so handsome! If his hands hadn't been burned, he'd be absolutely perfect." "I heard from Dr. Miller that his ex-girlfriend caused it. And the worst part? She dumped him because of the scars." "Ew, seriously? That's so disgusting." Passing by the nurse's station, I overheard several nurses gossiping while prepping IV bags. My footsteps faltered for a second, but I kept walking down the hall. With every step closer to that office door, my heart beat faster and faster. Thump, thump, thump. When my hand finally rested on the doorknob, I couldn't stop trembling. But the moment I saw that familiar silhouette, everything went completely quiet. The man in the white coat heard the door open, stopped writing, and looked up. When our eyes met, my heart stopped. My entire body went rigid. Honestly, I had already mentally prepared myself for Liam's mockery and scorn. Because— I was that disgusting, vile ex-girlfriend. 02 But as long as he could give my dad a fighting chance, I was willing to endure anything. In a fraction of a second, the man withdrew his gaze. "You must be Robert Davis's family member. Have a seat." His voice was freezing cold and completely detached. I remembered when I first had a crush on him, he always wore this same unapproachable, distant expression. He tipped his chin toward the chair across from him, and then... He looked back down and continued writing his notes. Was he— Pretending not to recognize me? The thought flashed through my mind, but I instantly dismissed it. How could he pretend to be so calm facing someone he despised? He was a proud, arrogant guy. Back when I was relentlessly pursuing him, if he got annoyed, he would just turn and walk away without sparing me a single word. But thinking about it logically, it made sense. I was wearing a surgical mask and had bangs now. And so many years had passed. —He probably genuinely didn't recognize me. The heavy stone hanging in my chest finally dropped. Sitting across from him, my eyes involuntarily drifted to those shocking, disfigured hands. The raised, hypertrophic burn scars stood out violently against his otherwise pale skin. My heart squeezed. The agonizing pain I had buried deep inside me flared up again. Years ago, a girl in our chemistry lab group made a reckless operational error that triggered a flash fire. Instantly, flames shot across the bench. Liam happened to be standing right next to me. With terrifyingly fast reflexes, he shielded my face with his hands. In the fraction of a second his hands caught the fire, massive patches of skin blistered into horrifying, raw red flesh. It was gruesome. Crying, I asked him why he did it. He looked down, gently wiping my tears away, his eyes completely sincere. "Because it was you. I'd do it a thousand times." Those scars made me absolutely certain Liam was the one. Which is exactly why, on the day I broke up with him, I used those very scars to end it. The vicious words were still ringing in my ears. "Do you know... every time I look at those hands, it makes me sick to my stomach." "I can't stand looking at them for another second." He probably hated my guts. The scars he took for me were rewarded with that vile, ungrateful face. ... "Ms. Davis?" I didn't realize when Liam had looked up, but his gaze was now locked firmly onto my face. "Yes, I'm here." He raised an eyebrow thoughtfully, noticing exactly where my eyes had been glued. "My hands won't cause you any physiological discomfort, will they?" 03 I shook my head awkwardly. "No." How could they? They only looked like that because he saved me. I loved them and ached for them. How could they ever make me feel sick? His lips curled up slightly, and he patiently explained: "That's good. "Everyone's physical tolerance is different, so I had to ask beforehand. "Have the complete blood count and bone marrow biopsies been done?" "Yes, they're done." "When was his last blood transfusion?" "Two months ago." "What is your relationship with Jackson Smith?" Jackson was the mutual friend who had referred me to Liam. But what did that have to do with my dad's medical condition? The answer died on my lips. I couldn't help but look at him suspiciously. "Is that... medically relevant?" He gave me a calm, flat look. "Of course. It's hospital policy." He was the doctor. I was the patient's family. Naturally, whatever he asked, I had to answer. "We went to college together." Those pitch-black eyes suddenly locked onto me, scrutinizing, analyzing, as if trying to decipher something hidden. Before I could say anything else, he pulled out the medical files, instantly switching back to a strictly professional demeanor, and began explaining the treatment plan. A few minutes later, the office door suddenly opened. "Liam, what do you want for lunch?" 04 Behind that sweet, soft voice was an incredibly agreeable, soft-featured face. I barely even had to process it. I recognized her instantly. It was Emily Miller! She was the exact girl who caused the lab explosion. Luckily for her, she had been standing slightly further back and wasn't badly hurt. What a ridiculously small world. She stared at me, too. Slowly, the smile on her face began to slip. A deep, magnetic voice instantly interrupted before Emily could blurt out my name. "Whatever you want. "Or we could just grab Thai food downstairs again. "Go ahead and book a table. I'll be done here in a minute." They spoke right over me. From this angle, I could clearly see the sharp line of Liam's jaw, and... The soft, unguarded tenderness in his eyes. A tenderness that used to belong exclusively to me. In high school, Emily was in our class, but she wasn't particularly close to me or Liam. During breaks, whenever I went to find Liam, Emily would be sitting in the row right behind him. I would always see her sitting quietly at her desk, entirely alone. Maybe she felt awkward and couldn't figure out how to join our conversations. Sometimes, when we accidentally made eye contact, she would immediately look away. But now, the roles were completely reversed. I was the outsider. Before closing the door, Emily gave me one last look. Her expression had already returned to normal, and she gave a polite, detached nod. Once again, it was just me and Liam in the office. He naturally possessed an incredibly dominant, intimidating aura. The air in the room instantly felt suffocating. I lowered my eyes, resting my elbows nervously on the edge of the desk. Suddenly, a large shadow fell over me, blocking the overhead light. His broad chest leaned forward, closing the distance between us. Almost completely by reflex, I jerked backward in my chair, scrambling to put space between us. His outstretched hand froze in midair. His face turned to absolute ice. "What are you dodging?" 05 The contempt in his eyes was barely concealed. "Didn't you just say you weren't disgusted by my hands?" Saying that, he reached past me and picked up a pen that had rolled near my arm. I never expected Liam to have become this incredibly sensitive. Actually, after we broke up, I begged my dad to use his connections to find a specialist hospital for burn victims, hoping they could repair Liam's hands. But by then, Liam already despised me. The mocking sneer he gave me that day is permanently burned into my memory. "I'm just a broken toy to you, aren't I? Tossed in the trash the second I got damaged." "Let me make this clear: I don't give a damn about these hands." "Stop trying to play the saint. It makes me sick." I didn't know if it was just my imagination. But for a split second, I felt absolutely certain that he had recognized me. ... Once the consultation ended, Emily was already waiting by the door, having changed into her street clothes. She was wearing a tight knit dress that hugged her curves perfectly. Liam didn't look at me again. He naturally reached out and took Emily's purse for her. Walking down the hallway, they looked like a perfect match, standing shoulder-to-shoulder, looking incredibly intimate. Honestly, seeing him like this made me feel a profound sense of relief about the choice I made back then. If I hadn't let him go, I might have completely ruined his life. "Hey! Spacing out over here?" "Come on, I'll drive you home." Jackson appeared out of nowhere, snapping his fingers right in front of my face and making me jump. His loud, booming voice echoed down the entire hospital corridor. Up ahead, that tall silhouette stopped walking and slowly turned his head to look at me. Under the harsh fluorescent lights of the hallway, his eyes were impossibly dark and unreadable. Before I could decipher whatever emotion was hiding in his gaze, a heavy hand dropped onto my shoulder, forcefully spinning me around. "Let's go." I was half-shoved toward the elevators at the opposite end of the hall. 06 In the car, Jackson broke the silence. "So, how did it go regarding your dad's case?" I didn't answer. I just stared out the window into the dark night, watching the blurry shadows of trees speeding past. Liam's words kept echoing in my head. "Given the extremely limited number of viable case studies, there is only one surgical option, and it carries massive risks." "If it succeeds, it's obviously a miracle. But if it fails, the condition will accelerate exponentially. He wouldn't last a month." A terrifying, high-stakes gamble with my father's life. I simply couldn't make that choice right now. "Hey! What are you doing?!" While I was drowning in misery, a heavy pair of hands suddenly landed on my head, violently messing up my hair. It was Jackson. Seeing me glaring and swatting at him like an angry cat, he grinned widely. "Just trying to boost your fighting spirit." "You look like a wilted vegetable lately. When we get to my place to grab the supplements for your dad, make sure you take some for yourself too." The only reason Jackson and I were such close friends was that we had both pulled each other out of total rock bottom. Our history started back in college, right after he went through a brutal breakup. His ex-girlfriend had started an internship and started attending high-end corporate galas with her boss. She was picked up in luxury cars every day. Suddenly, Jackson—who practically lived in loud Hawaiian shirts—wasn't good enough for her anymore. She called him "immature." Since he had genuinely loved her, it completely destroyed him to watch the girl he loved turn into someone unrecognizable. He got blackout drunk every single day. One night, he almost fell backward off the top of the stadium bleachers. Thankfully, I was right next to him. I grabbed his shirt, hauled him back, and slapped him as hard as I could across the face. "She's already moved on with her life! Why the hell are you still standing here playing the tragic victim?!" Honestly, I was screaming those words at him... but I was also screaming them at myself. ... After picking up the supplements, Jackson dragged me to a hot pot restaurant. He loved extremely spicy food, and by the end of the meal, my lips were completely swollen and burning. My apartment complex didn't allow non-resident cars inside. Jackson was going to pull over at the main gate, but I told him not to bother. Just as I opened the passenger door, halfway out of the car, he grabbed me by the back of my collar and yanked me back. "It's pouring rain out there and I don't have an umbrella. Just put this over your head so you don't get completely soaked." I turned and looked at the Hawaiian shirt he was holding out. Right on the collar was a bright red lipstick stain. Who knows what girl left it there—he probably didn't even know himself. I immediately waved my hands in disgust. "No thanks, I'll just sprint. It's fine." He ignored me, threw the shirt over my head, and physically shoved me out of the car. "Stop being so picky. I'm throwing it away anyway. Take it home and tailor it into a raincoat or something." Once I got out, I was actually secretly grateful. Thank God I had the shirt to cover me. The rain was much heavier than it sounded from inside the car. By the time I sprinted to my apartment lobby, the bottom half of my jeans was completely soaked. Even so, my footsteps slowed to a dead stop when I saw the completely drenched figure standing by the door. Those eyes, looking even darker and sharper in the shadows, were staring dead at me. He just stood there, motionless, letting the massive, freezing raindrops slide down his face. "Lia... Dr. Sterling? What are you doing here?" When I left the hospital, Liam's eyes had already confirmed it: he absolutely knew who I was. Treating me like a complete stranger, letting go of the past, and moving on with our lives. That was probably the best possible outcome for both of us. The freezing rain did nothing to extinguish the furious fire in his eyes. His gaze swept over my messy hair, my swollen lips, and finally settled on my face with pure, absolute disgust and mockery. "Your father's surgery isn't even scheduled yet, and you're already out screwing around." "You really are something else, Chloe." "What the hell did I do?" He completely ignored my question and continued speaking in a dangerously low voice. "Did you know the city blood bank is completely tapped out?" "Did you know about the hospital's new policy? Before they authorize a transfusion, you have to provide proof of blood donation from five different people. Otherwise, they won't release the blood. Did you know that?" "Even though your father is admitted to the hospital, if the blood bank supervisor doesn't sign off, there is absolutely nothing I can do. Did you know that?!" I was completely stunned. Blood transfusions had never been this complicated before. Usually, the hospital just handled it internally. When did the policy change? He let out a bitter, mocking laugh that mixed with the sound of the pouring rain. "No, you didn't know." "Because you never take anything seriously." In that moment, I couldn't tell if he was condemning the person I was now, or the person I used to be. Maybe because he had been standing in the freezing rain for so long, his lips were completely pale. He looked utterly exhausted, incredibly weak. "Are you okay?" "Do you want to come upstairs and rest for a minute?" His face darkened instantly, his expression practically screaming: I'm not as easy and cheap as you are. He raised a hand, wiped the rain off his face, and violently threw a stack of small red booklets directly into my chest. Then he turned and walked away. I opened them. It was five certificates of blood donation. One of them had his name on it. So the reason he looked so pale and weak... was because... "Liam!" The man stumbled, swaying heavily to the side, and collapsed onto the wet concrete. 07 After dragging Liam upstairs and changing him into dry clothes, I rested my chin on my hands and watched him sleep. He had pale skin and incredibly striking, sharp features. He looked like an untouchable god, the kind of person everyone naturally favored. In high school, practically the entire student body knew... I was head over heels in love with Liam Sterling. His mother had a severe, chronic illness and required constant hospital treatments. The financial and emotional burden on him was crushing. So every single weekend, I would go to the hospital and help take care of her. Until Marcus appeared. He was a local street thug. First, he aggressively and publicly declared his love for me, then started stalking and verbally harassing me. When that didn't work, he started targeting Liam. He even went to the hospital to harass Liam's sick mother. I tried calling the police. But the most they could do was hold him for a few days. The second he got out, he went right back to terrorizing us. Marcus was a jobless delinquent with endless free time, and he took immense pleasure in making Liam's life a living hell. Because of Marcus's relentless harassment, Liam was constantly exhausted and distracted. His class ranking plummeted again and again. He started skipping classes. Before his old bruises could heal, he’d show up with new ones. Eventually, the school administration slapped Liam with a severe disciplinary mark for "engaging in violent street brawls." By the time the news of the disciplinary action reached Liam's mother, she was already incredibly frail, her eyes deeply sunken into her skull. Yet she still forced a warm smile and gently held my hand. "Liam hasn't been focusing on his studies lately, has he?" "I don't have much time left. If I could just see him get accepted into a top-tier university, I could die in peace." "Chloe... you understand what I'm asking you, don't you?" I gripped the hem of my school uniform so tightly my knuckles turned white. Slowly, I let go. Truthfully, she wasn't the only one who had said things like that to me. My classmates whispered that I was a slut who lured in gang members, and that my drama was destroying Liam's chances of getting a full-ride scholarship. Even our homeroom teacher pulled me aside for a "talk." He told me that Liam had a brilliant future ahead of him, and begged me not to be the reason he ruined his life. Every single person around me was telling me exactly one thing: Stay away from Liam Sterling. The most paralyzing, suffocating part was... I couldn't even argue back. Because on the surface, it really did look like I was the one who dragged Marcus into our lives. And because Marcus was jealous, he ripped Liam's previously quiet, focused life to shreds. But back then, my teenage brain couldn't comprehend it. I was a victim too. So why, in everyone else's eyes, was I suddenly the villain? The crushing injustice and overwhelming pressure slowly ate away at my sanity. So, I chose the most extreme, cruel method to escape the rumors. ... I was still drowning in my memories when a sharp clack snapped me back to reality. Something had rolled off the nightstand and hit the hardwood floor. I turned and saw that Liam's car keys had slipped out of his pocket. And tucked underneath the keys was something else— A pair of matching promise rings. The rings that belonged to him and Emily. 08 When I woke up the next morning, Liam was already gone. The blanket on the bed had been folded into a perfect, crisp square. If it weren't for the blood donation certificates still sitting on the counter, I would have convinced myself last night was just a hallucination. A few days later, I scheduled the blood transfusion with the hospital. Just as Liam had warned me, the bureaucratic process was an absolute nightmare. Even the nurse setting up my dad's IV couldn't help but complain. "Lately, the families of patients needing transfusions have been running themselves ragged trying to get approved. You're the smoothest approval I've seen all month." The image of Liam's ghostly pale, exhausted face flashed in my mind again. When I went to his office to find him, he was resting his head on his desk, trying to take a nap. His brows were furrowed tightly, and a thin layer of cold sweat covered his forehead. Without thinking, I reached my hand out, wanting to smooth the crease between his brows. But remembering that he already had Emily, my hand froze in midair. Just as I was about to pull away, a vice-like grip violently clamped down on my wrist. Liam opened his eyes, staring at me with a dark, heavy intensity. "Do you need something?" He was gripping my wrist so hard it felt like he was trying to crush my bones. But a second later, as if he had just touched something disgusting, he violently threw my hand away and sat up straight. "Thank you for helping me last night." He glanced at me, a cold, mocking smirk twisting his lips. "Help you?" "You seem to be confused." "If any other patient had collapsed in front of me, I would have done the exact same thing." ... "Liam. I'm sorry." A flash of absolute shock crossed his eyes. His dark pupils locked onto me as he spoke slowly. "Sorry for what?" "When we broke up... I never should have said those vicious things to you." He didn't speak. He just kept scrutinizing me, clearly waiting for me to finish. I hesitated for a second, then continued. "Your hands were burned because of me. I have always, always been grateful to you." "I have never, ever felt disgusted or grossed out by them." When I finished, dead silence filled the room. The air was so thick it was hard to breathe. "Are you done?" I thought about it carefully, then gave a firm nod. His face instantly turned completely black. With profound impatience, he looked away. "Get out." I bit my lip and walked to the door. But right as I grabbed the handle, a surge of defiant frustration made me turn back. "Then tell me, what do I have to do for you to forgive me?" I watched as he looked up. In those dark eyes, a chaotic storm of emotions I couldn't decipher violently swirled. "I want you to disappear from my life. Completely." "Okay." I answered cleanly and decisively. "Once my dad finishes his treatments, I'll disappear." He didn't say another word, but his face somehow looked even more furious than before. The second I closed the door, I heard the violent, crashing sound of something heavy being hurled against the wall inside the office, shattering into pieces.
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