I married my best friend Ethan Cole's sister, Frost. I was addicted to her for three years, but ever since she gave birth to our daughter, she refused to share a bed with me. When she had needs, she'd rather take care of it herself than come near me. I once suspected something was wrong with me. When I was drinking with Ethan to drown my sorrows, I complained about it. The next evening, I saw Frost pin Ethan against the wall. "You know I'm in love with you! I already did what you told me to—I married Zachary, even gave him a daughter. And now you want me to be intimate with him too? Do you really not care if I live or die?!" Our daughter was wiping away tears beside them. "I like Uncle Ethan too. I want Uncle Ethan to be my daddy." The veins on Ethan's forehead bulged as he pulled them both into a tight embrace. "Frost, you're in my heart too. I want to raise Emma as well. But we're siblings on the same household register. What would people think if I married you?" "Besides, Zachary saved your life during that earthquake. You married him. You two should just live a good life together from now on." "Emma, be a good girl. Your daddy gave you his kidney. You need to honor him from now on, understand?" Frost covered his mouth forcefully. "Isn't giving him a child enough?!" "I can stay married to him, but letting him touch me is impossible. Except for you, I won't let anyone touch me." So my wife wasn't frigid after all. Her body would only submit to another man.
I didn't want to see or hear what came next. I walked home alone, lost and hollow. My chest hurt so badly I swallowed several painkillers. I barely made it through the night. At dawn, I contacted a lawyer to draft a divorce agreement. The lawyer asked me, "Do you want to fight for custody? Your daughter is only six years old. The chances of custody going to the mother are very high." I didn't know. I had poured everything into Emma, but she didn't want me as her father. I could only tell the lawyer, "Let me think about it." The front door burst open. Frost came home with our daughter. I was about to bring up the divorce when my daughter suddenly wrapped her arms around my leg. Her innocent little face was full of pleading. "Daddy, Uncle Ethan's company suddenly got scammed out of fifty million dollars. It's about to go bankrupt. Can you sell the house and lend him the money?" These weren't words a six-year-old should be saying. Seeing I didn't react, Frost's usually cold and distant face showed a panic and nervousness I'd never seen before. "Please, Zachary. If you help, I'll do anything you want." I lowered my eyes, not looking at her, my heart bitter. "You'll do anything? Then if I ask you to give me another child, would you agree to that too?" "Yes!" My nails dug into my palms. I went to the bedroom and took out the property deed. "But think carefully. I'm down one kidney. I can't work overtime or do physical labor. This house is the last safety net for you and Emma." Frost didn't hesitate for a second. She grabbed the deed and left. She mortgaged the house and spent days by Ethan's side. I didn't interfere. I just took my daughter to the hospital for another checkup. The doctor said she was very healthy after receiving my kidney and could live normally from now on. Leaving pediatrics, I stopped by nephrology for my regular checkup. I'd had to come every six months since donating my kidney. The doctor looked at my lab results, his brow furrowing tighter and tighter. "Mr. Spencer, you're down to one kidney, and now this one is showing signs of mild failure. Your creatinine levels are elevated, and your urine protein is abnormal. You absolutely cannot overwork yourself, drink alcohol, or do strenuous exercise from now on, or you might need long-term dialysis." My heart sank, but I kept my expression neutral. "Do I need medication?" "I'll prescribe a course of out-of-pocket drugs. Three thousand dollars a box, taken continuously for three months. Your constitution was never very strong to begin with, and with all the stress lately..." The doctor sighed. "You must rest." I walked out of the consultation room with my report and asked my daughter, "If Mommy and Daddy get divorced, who would you want to live with?" "Mommy." My daughter answered without hesitation, looking at me happily. "Daddy, are you going to divorce Mommy? Then Mommy's wish will finally come true." A bitter taste filled my mouth. I notified the lawyer to give up custody. As I left the hospital, I spotted Frost's car at the entrance. She looked at me with surprise. "Are you not feeling well? Or is Emma sick? Why didn't you call me? I could have come with you." I said flatly, "Emma's checkup. Nothing serious. Aren't you supposed to be with Ethan? What are you doing at the hospital?" Frost was silent for a moment, her eyes showing something like guilt. Then she pulled out an appointment slip. "I came to ask about IVF." "You said you wanted a child. I'll keep my promise." For Ethan's sake, she really was committed to preserving her chastity. She could give me a child through IVF, but she wouldn't sleep with me. I tore the appointment slip in half. "Never mind. I thought about it. Emma doesn't want a sibling anyway. Let me change my request." Frost visibly relaxed. "That's great. What do you want instead?" I handed her the divorce agreement where I'd given up custody. "Just sign this. That's all I'm asking you to do." Frost flipped straight to the last page. Before signing, she was about to look at what was written on the previous pages. The next second, her phone rang. "Frost, did you get the fever medicine? I think my temperature's up to 102." "I'll be right there. Let me ask the doctor about precautions first, then I'll come over." She soothed the man on the other end while rapidly signing the agreement. My daughter was clamoring to see her uncle. Frost took her and left, telling me to get a cab home myself. So she didn't come to the hospital for IVF after all. She came because Ethan had a fever.
I followed Frost to Ethan's hospital room. I stood at the door like some shameful voyeur, peering through the gap. I could see everything inside clearly. Frost's face wore the gentle smile I hadn't seen in so long as she bent down to take Ethan's temperature. Her movements were delicate, like handling fragile porcelain. After checking his temperature, she turned to pour water, tested its warmth, then counted out two pills from the medicine box and placed them in Ethan's palm. Ethan lounged lazily on the sofa. He took the pills but didn't swallow them right away. Instead, he pulled Frost into his arms and kissed her forehead. Frost smiled and pushed him away—that smile I'd never seen at home. The corners of her eyes curved, her lips turned up, looking like a girl acting coquettish. She held the water glass to Ethan's lips and watched as he obediently swallowed the pills before nodding with satisfaction. I stood outside the hospital room, the cold wind in the corridor blowing through me. My heart felt frozen. After donating my kidney to my daughter, my health had deteriorated. Fevers of 104 degrees were common. She had never treated me with such tenderness. She would never smile at me like that. Never speak my name with honey in her voice. She would only call "Zachary" in that flat tone, like addressing a casual neighbor. She wouldn't take my temperature or feed me medicine—she'd just tell me to take fever reducers, then sleep in a separate room. The difference between love and indifference was so painfully obvious. I pocketed my phone and turned to leave. Back home, I opened my mobile banking app to check if last month's salary had been deposited. The kidney failure medication cost three thousand dollars a box. I needed to scrape together the money. The number on the screen made me freeze for a full ten seconds. Balance: $87.42 I checked the transaction history again. Besides the money transferred to Ethan for his "company emergency," there were several recent purchases: Department store shopping $32,000, phone store $9,900, luxury boutique $21,000... all charged to my credit card. I collapsed onto the sofa and called Frost. It rang for a long time before she answered. "What is it?" Frost sounded impatient. "The credit card charges—was that you?" "Oh, I bought Ethan a suit and a phone. He has to meet with investors. He can't look shabby." "But you used my money. It's almost seventy thousand dollars." "You're a grown man. Why are you so petty?" Frost's tone was like scolding an unreasonable child. "Ethan's company is going bankrupt. He needs decent clothes for business negotiations." "Your medicine? Just borrow some money from your parents." Ethan's voice came through the phone, lazy and casual: "Come on, Zachary, don't be so stingy. When my company recovers, I'll pay you back tenfold." I hung up and called Frost's father. "Dad, my kidney is failing. The medication costs..." Her father was silent for a long time, then sighed. "I know you're struggling financially, but your mom and I aren't well-off either. We just helped your brother-in-law pay his mortgage a few days ago. We don't have much left." "We can give you two thousand at most. That's it. You'll have to figure out the rest yourself." My phone vibrated. It was a transfer notification from Frost's father. I sat in the empty living room. Sunlight streamed through the window onto me, but I felt no warmth at all. My phone vibrated again. A collection notice from the bank. I stared at the words "minimum payment due" on the screen and suddenly felt like a complete joke. The next day, I went out in my old jacket. Passing a street corner, a homeless man sat on the ground with a paper cup in front of him. I instinctively reached into my pocket and found only two coins. As I bent down to drop them in, a passerby looked at me with pity and also threw two dollars into the cup. I crouched on the curb, staring at those two coins, and laughed for a long time. I laughed until tears choked out of me.
Frost's social media feed had become all about Ethan. Every caption was a prayer for his recovery, for his company to overcome its difficulties. In the photos, my daughter always nestled against Ethan, as if they were the family of three. I called a cleaning service to clear out everything I didn't need. The clothes and gaming console she'd given me, the necklace and watch I'd given her, the stuffed animals and toys I'd bought for my daughter. The cleaner kept asking if I was really sure I wanted to throw it all away. I never changed my mind. After everything was tossed out, Frost came home. She stared at the empty house, her face full of shock. "Why did you throw everything away?" "The house is being sold anyway. We won't need any of this. Why are you suddenly back?" Frost's first words were a complaint. "Today is Emma's birthday. Mom and Dad reserved a private room at a restaurant. Did you really forget?" How could I forget my own daughter's birthday? It's just that Frost's parents didn't like me. Every time, it was just the two siblings taking my daughter. There was never a place for me. When we entered the private room, we found a strange young woman already sitting inside. Frost's mother beckoned to Ethan to sit down. "Ethan, look at your sister's kid—she's already six years old, and you still don't even have a girlfriend. How can that be?" "This is my colleague's daughter. You young people should get to know each other. If you're compatible, get engaged quickly. I'm still waiting to hold a grandson." Frost's face immediately turned ugly. She gripped her daughter's hand tightly, her eyes reddening. "Mom! You want a grandson—isn't Emma right here? Why are you forcing Ethan to marry someone he doesn't love!" "What nonsense. Who says he doesn't love her? Feelings develop over time, just like you and Zachary. Didn't you two have a good life after marriage?" "What I want is a grandson. What you gave birth to can only be considered a granddaughter from your side of the family." Frost broke down crying: "That's because you don't know how miserable I've been since getting married!" "And I specifically let my daughter take my last name. She's a Cole child. If Ethan agrees, I'll let Emma call him Daddy!" My daughter crisply called out "Daddy." Smoothly, as if she'd practiced it a thousand times. My heart felt crushed by a boulder. The surgical incision from the kidney donation throbbed with phantom pain, but I knew it was all in my head. What really hurt was my heart. Frost's father, who had been silent, finally rebuked her. "You are you, and your brother is your brother. What does it mean for your daughter to call your brother Daddy?" "Sit down and eat properly. Stop making a spectacle in front of this young lady." Tears streamed down Frost's face. She turned to leave but didn't notice the server entering with a stew. The server stumbled several steps from the collision, and scalding soup splashed everywhere. In that critical moment, both Frost and my daughter lunged toward Ethan. And I, forgotten where I stood, was drenched head-on with boiling water close to 200 degrees Fahrenheit. My skin burned with searing pain, like being roasted over a fire. After struggling for a few seconds, I lost consciousness. I don't know how long passed before I heard voices. My eyelids felt sewn shut, but my ears could still hear. It was Frost's mother's voice. "Zachary, are you awake?" I felt someone grasp my hand—rough, warm hands. "The doctor said you have second-degree burns on your face and body. It'll take months to heal. Mom feels terrible for you, but..." She paused, her voice becoming cautious. "We parents can see what's going on between Frost and Ethan." "But Ethan is the only son of the Cole family. You can't ruin his reputation." "You've already married Frost and had a daughter. Just turn a blind eye. Men need to be magnanimous." I wanted to speak, but my throat felt stuffed with cotton. Frost's father's voice joined in, low and stern. "That's right. Ethan said when you're discharged, he'll give you some money. You can find a woman on the side." "As long as you don't divorce, we're still one family." "Dad knows you're being wronged. But think about it—Emma is still young. She can't be without her mother." "If you really divorce, you definitely won't get custody. You're in kidney failure. You can't even support yourself." Tears seeped from beneath my bandages, rolling over my burned skin. It hurt like being cut with a knife. But I couldn't tell if it was the wound that hurt, or if my heart hurt more.
When I woke again, my daughter was leaning over my bed, her round eyes staring at me. I was about to comfort her that I was fine. But my daughter sighed regretfully. "Daddy, you slept for so long. I thought you died." "If you had died, that would have been great. Then Mommy could be with Uncle Ethan." "They're in the living room talking right now. Mommy is crying so sadly." My heart was torn open by her innocent tone. Enduring the pain throughout my body, I pushed open the bedroom door. Frost's voice stabbed sharply into my skull. "Ethan Cole, let's come clean to Mom and Dad. So what if they know we like each other!" "I can't accept another woman being by your side. I'll go crazy." "As long as you're willing to leave with me, I can even leave Emma behind. We'll go somewhere where no one knows us!" Ethan flatly refused. "That won't work. Have you thought about Zachary? Zachary is my best friend and your husband. I can't let him lose both of us." "Then why did you force me to marry him!" "Do you know that I used to feel guilty toward Zachary, but every single second of being married to him, I've hated him. You're the one who made him lose us!" A pathetic groan escaped my throat. The bandaged area slammed hard against the door frame. Ethan's expression changed drastically. He rushed over to support my shoulders. "Zachary, you're awake. Does it hurt? Frost and I were just rehearsing a script. The screenwriter sent it earlier saying the emotions weren't full enough, so we were practicing." I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead and forced a smile. "Is that so? I heard everything just now. I thought you both did very well." Ethan helped me back to the hospital bed and gave a few instructions to "rest well" before hurriedly leaving with Frost. The moment the door closed, soft laughter drifted from the hallway. She was laughing, as if those words had never been spoken. I lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. The wound started hurting again. It felt like fire burning beneath the bandages, but I didn't even have the strength to cry out in pain. The door cracked open. Emma's little head poked through. When her round eyes confirmed I was alone, she swaggered in. "Daddy." She stood by the bed, clutching a pink hair clip in her hand—the one Ethan had given her last week. "What is it?" My voice was so hoarse it was barely audible. Emma climbed onto the chair by the bed, her legs swinging back and forth. She tilted her head and stared at me for a while before suddenly asking, "Daddy, when are you moving out?" I froze. "Uncle Ethan said his new house is ready. It has a bigger yard where we can have a dog. Mommy said she's moving there too." Emma counted on her fingers. "Grandma said after that, I can see Uncle Ethan every day." "Daddy, can you move out quickly? Once you're gone, we can live in the big house." Her tone was as light as discussing tomorrow's breakfast. There was no reluctance in her eyes, only pure anticipation. "Emma," I tried to reach out to touch her face, "if Daddy leaves, no one will tell you bedtime stories." "Uncle Ethan will!" She proudly lifted her chin. "Uncle Ethan tells better stories than you." I withdrew my hand, my fingertips trembling slightly. Emma jumped off the chair and ran to the door. Then she turned back and seriously reminded me: "Daddy, when you leave, take all your stuff with you. Mommy said not to leave anything here. It takes up space." With that, she ran off. The patter of footsteps in the hallway grew fainter and fainter. I slowly closed my eyes. Takes up space. So in her eyes, even my existence was superfluous. The string that had been stretched taut finally snapped in that moment. I fumbled under my pillow for my phone and sent a message to the lawyer: "Process the divorce agreement as originally drafted. I don't want a penny. Just make it fast."
My face and body were wrapped in bandages. I stayed home for many days without going out. I thought Frost would be thrilled. She could brazenly cling to Ethan without worrying I'd find out. But she didn't. Instead, she stayed home taking care of me. She'd wake early in the morning to make chicken soup, then call me to eat after I woke up. She'd patiently help me apply medicine, and when the wounds were exposed, she'd even have our daughter blow on them gently. I couldn't understand what she was trying to do. Until I discovered she had transferred our last bit of savings to Ethan as well. Frost could never give me any emotional response. The better she treated me, the more it meant she was hurting me. But fortunately, I didn't need that money. The seven years I'd been married to Frost were probably the poorest seven years of my life. I just quietly urged the lawyer to process the divorce paperwork. Every night after I went to bed, Frost would quietly leave by car. She thought I didn't know, but I was awake every time. Even Emma knew. Emma asked me, "Daddy, aren't you angry that Mommy goes out?" I just shook my head with a smile. I knew where Frost went. The year Emma was born, we had exchanged GPS locations—just a small feature that was easy to forget. Now every day I could see her location appearing at Ethan's house. That evening, Frost's mother called about a family dinner to celebrate Ethan's company "overcoming its difficulties." I wanted to refuse, but Frost gently persuaded me: "The bandages are off your face. It would be good for you to get out. Besides, Emma wants you to come." I knew Emma didn't want me there, but I still put on my cleanest shirt to cover the scars on my neck. At the restaurant's private room, there was Frost's father and mother, Ethan, Frost, Emma, and that blind date woman from last time. The atmosphere was much better than before. Ethan wore his new suit, looking spirited as he poured drinks for everyone. Emma wore a pink princess dress today with two little buns. Frost had done her hair. Frost's mother suggested having Emma pass around cookies to the elders. "Come on, Emma. Start with Grandma." Emma helped pass around a plate of cookies and walked over, saying sweetly, "Grandma, please have cookies." Frost's mother beamed with joy. "Now serve one to your uncle." Frost's mother pointed at Ethan with a smile. Emma walked up to Ethan, and suddenly called out crisply: "Daddy, please have cookies." The entire room fell silent for a moment. The sound of knives and forks dropping on the table was particularly clear. Frost's mother paused, then smoothed things over. "This child, why are you calling people the wrong names?" Emma said seriously, as if she'd rehearsed it many times, "Mommy said Uncle Ethan is my new daddy. Daddy is moving out soon." Everyone's eyes turned to me. My hand holding the water glass was trembling. Scalding water splashed out and burned the back of my hand, but I felt nothing. I looked at Frost. She was looking down at her phone, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned with a trace of smug satisfaction. Ethan, on the other hand, acted magnanimous, pulling Emma close and kissing her cheek. "Emma is such a good girl. Uncle Ethan will be good to you from now on." Then he looked up, meeting my eyes, and said with a smile: "Zachary, don't take it to heart. Kids are young and don't understand." I opened my mouth, wanting to say something. Frost's mother across from me sighed, looking at me with an expression that said "why are you so stubborn": "Zachary, the child made a mistake. Don't take it personally." I lowered my head, looking at the water glass in my hands. The water reflected my face—half covered with red marks from the burns, like an ugly birthmark. I suddenly felt a bitter taste in my mouth. More bitter than kidney failure medication. I set down the water glass and said quietly, "She's right. I am moving out soon." Then I stood up, grabbed my jacket, and walked out of the private room. Behind me came Emma's cheers: "Yay! Old Daddy is finally leaving!" Then Frost's soft laugh, Ethan's "Come on, let's keep eating," and Frost's mother's "Don't worry about him. That's just his temperament." I stood outside the restaurant entrance. The night wind poured into my collar, blowing against the scars on my neck—painful and itchy. My phone vibrated. It was a message from Frost. "It's better that you left. With you there for Emma's birthday, everyone felt awkward." I didn't reply.
My injuries improved day by day. The lawyer finally contacted me. "Mr. Spencer, your divorce certificate has been processed. I'll send it to you by courier." I immediately stopped him. "Don't send it by courier. I'll pick it up in person." I couldn't wait even one more day. Two thin pieces of paper—what I'd been desperately waiting for. I gave Emma the one that belonged to Frost. "When your mommy comes home, show her this document." Just as I was about to leave for the airport, I suddenly received a call from Ethan. "Zachary, come quick! Something happened to Frost!" I arrived at the bar where Frost was. After asking many people, I finally found the second-floor public restroom. I saw Frost's thighs wrapped around Ethan's waist. She was continuously rubbing and kissing the man's neck, trying to unbutton his shirt. Her voice was sickeningly sweet as she murmured. "Ethan, do you know how happy I've been these past days with you? It's like a dream." "Accept me. Let's be together forever." In the open space, Ethan spotted me immediately. His voice was gentle and coaxing. "What about Zachary? He'd risk his life for you. He'd be devastated to hear you say this." Frost's voice carried a sobbing tone. "I don't care about him. Do you know, when I gave birth to our daughter, I wanted to strangle her?" "I can't accept that Zachary and I have a child together!" "If only he hadn't saved me back then. We'd still have a chance to be together, wouldn't we?" I'd heard these words so many times I'd lost count. Besides feeling sorry for my daughter, I couldn't summon a single emotion. Ethan called me over. "Zachary, don't listen to Frost's nonsense. She drank something spiked just now. She's confused." "Take her aside and help her with the antidote." He said this, but his hands made no motion to push her away. He just watched as Frost's hand gradually reached for his belt. She even waved her hand to slap me. "Don't touch me. I don't want you. Get away." I laughed. "The antidote, right? Fine, I'll help you both." The moment I finished that sentence, before I could make any move, several people in uniforms suddenly rushed up the stairs. "Zachary Spencer? Someone reported that you've been domestically abusing your wife long-term and threatening to harm your wife and daughter. Please come with us to the station for investigation." Two officers grabbed me from both sides, twisting my arms behind my back. "I never abused anyone!" I struggled and shouted. Frost suddenly "sobered up," tears streaming down her face as she rushed to the police: "Officers, it's him! After he was disfigured, his temper got worse and worse. He hits me constantly." "Today he got drunk and said he'd take our daughter with him to die. I was terrified, so I called the police!" She cried hysterically, her shoulders shaking, looking like someone who'd been victimized for a long time. I stared wide-eyed at her performance, unable to say a single word. What broke me even more was that my daughter Emma appeared from nowhere, tugging at Frost's clothes, tears in her eyes as she told the police: "Police officers, my daddy hits my mommy and said he'd kill me." She said it so naturally, without a single stammer. I crouched down, trying to touch her face. "Emma, when did Daddy ever—" "Don't touch me!" Emma screamed and dodged, hiding in Ethan's arms. Ethan looked pained as he told the police: "Officers, I'm her brother. My sister hasn't had a single good day since marrying him. Today he got drunk and followed us here to cause trouble. We really had no choice." Under Ethan and Frost's accusations, I was handcuffed and taken to the police station. I sat in the interrogation room for two hours while a young officer kept repeating the same questions. "Do you admit to domestic violence?" "I didn't do it." "Your wife and daughter both identified you. Neighbors also reported hearing arguments from your home." "Arguments don't equal domestic violence." "Then how do you explain the bruises on your wife's body?" I froze. Frost had bruises on her body?
After staying in the interrogation room for 24 hours, when I walked out of the police station, I felt like I'd been through another lifetime. Ethan's car was parked at the police station entrance. He got out and walked toward me.He patted my shoulder, his voice as warm as a true brother's. "Zachary, just revise the property division in the divorce agreement. Give the house and savings to Frost." "Then I'll have them drop the case. Otherwise, as a domestic abuser, you can forget about ever seeing your daughter again." The night wind blew through me. I was chilled to the bone. "You're the one who called the police." I said. Ethan didn't deny it. He just smiled. "Zachary, I'm doing this for your own good. Look, your health isn't great. Wouldn't living alone be easier? The assets are useless to you anyway. Give them to Frost and Emma, and they'll remember your kindness." I looked at him. At this man I'd once considered my brother. The streetlight stretched his shadow long, like a twisted vine. I signed the case withdrawal agreement. The house went to Frost. The savings went to Frost. Custody of my daughter went to Frost. I left with nothing. Ethan drove away with Frost and Emma. As they passed me, Frost rolled down the window and said flatly, "Smart choice." Emma pressed against the car window and made a face at me. I stood at the police station entrance, clutching that thin divorce certificate. The night wind blew, and the paper's corner dug into my palm. It didn't hurt. I'd already endured worse pain than this. The streetlight stretched my shadow long and faint, like ink that could dissolve at any moment. I remembered the day three years ago when we got our marriage license. Frost didn't smile once. When the clerk said "congratulations," she just hummed in response. I thought she was shy at the time. Now I understood—that was the politeness of someone completely indifferent to another person. My phone vibrated. I looked down. It was a voice message from Frost's mother. I hesitated for two seconds before opening it. "Zachary, Mom knows you signed the papers today." Her voice was low, as if hiding from someone. "Mom wants to tell you something from the heart—it's actually better that you're leaving." "Your face and neck are covered in scars. Emma's still young. If she sees them too much, she'll have nightmares." "Don't come to the house anymore, and don't come see the child. Let her slowly forget you. It's better for her." My hand holding the phone trembled. My throat felt blocked by something. I wanted to say: Mom, those scars are from donating a kidney to save your granddaughter. Those scars are from protecting your daughter when boiling water scalded me. But I said nothing, because I knew it would be useless. The voice message finished playing. The screen lit up again—Frost's mother had recalled the message. A few seconds later, she sent a new one: "Zachary, Mom sent the wrong message just now. Take care of yourself while you heal." I didn't reply. I looked up and saw a 24-hour fast food restaurant across from the police station, warm yellow light glowing through the glass windows. Inside sat a family of three. The parents were wiping their child's mouth. The child laughed and burrowed into the mother's arms. I watched for a few seconds, then reached into my pocket for my phone and removed the SIM card. I bent down and threw it into a storm drain by the road. When the card fell, it made no sound at all—like a complete and utter silence. I straightened up and hailed a cab. "Where to?" the driver asked. "Airport."
The car started moving. Through the rearview mirror, I watched the police station gate grow smaller and more distant, finally becoming a point of light that disappeared into the night. Outside the window, this city's thousands of lights were like a silent river. I sent no messages. I made no calls. Not because I feared they'd ask me to stay, but because I knew too clearly—no one would ask me to stay anyway. So be it. From today on, Zachary Spencer had no more weaknesses. After flying back to New York, I checked into the best hospital. No information leaked out. My grandfather's people cleared the entire floor. Even the nurses had to sign confidentiality agreements before being allowed in. It wasn't the Spencer family being ostentatious—I just didn't want anyone to know where I was. Especially not the Coles. Top dermatology experts came to consult on my case, making sure not a single scar would remain on my body. It wasn't about vanity or saving face. It was because even the slightest trace proving Frost's existence made me feel sick. The expert team conducted three consultations. Each time they took dozens of photos and used instruments to scan every inch of burned skin. Professor Smith, who led the team, was a national authority in burn treatment. After examining my wounds, he frowned for a long time before finally saying: "Mr. Spencer, your burns weren't treated promptly enough at the time. Some areas have already formed scar tissue. To remove them completely will require at least three laser surgeries." I said, "Do it. I'll pay whatever it costs." Professor Smith nodded, then hesitated and asked, "These scars... how did you get them?" I didn't answer. He probably read something in my expression and didn't press further. On the third day of hospitalization, I underwent a comprehensive physical examination. When the results came out, the attending physician called me to his office with a grave expression. "Mr. Spencer, your current physical condition isn't very optimistic." "You're down to one kidney, and that kidney's function indicators have been steadily declining. If we don't find a suitable kidney source soon, within three to five years, you'll likely need long-term dialysis." I sat in the consultation room, looking at the kidney anatomy diagram on the wall, and suddenly felt like laughing. I gave my daughter a kidney, and now even my remaining one was failing. The doctor continued, "The good news is we've registered you in the national organ donation system." "With Mr. Spencer Senior's network, we could find a matching kidney source within three months at the fastest. However..." He paused, looking at me. "However what?" "However, you need to prepare yourself mentally. After kidney transplant surgery, you'll need to take anti-rejection drugs for life. You can't overwork yourself, can't exercise strenuously, and your immune system will be much weaker than a normal person's." "Moreover, a second kidney transplant carries much higher risks than the first." I was silent for a long time. The sunlight outside was beautiful, shining on the white sheets, so bright it hurt the eyes. I remembered three years ago, lying on the operating table at another hospital. Before the anesthesia was administered, I looked at Frost one last time. She stood outside the operating room with no expression on her face. Before the operating room doors closed, I wanted to say something to her, but the anesthesia had already kicked in. My mouth wouldn't open. When I woke up, there was a four-inch scar on my side and one less kidney in my body. Frost sat by the bed. When she saw me wake up, the first thing she said was, "The surgery was quite successful. Emma is in the ICU for observation now." No "does it hurt." No "thank you." As if I'd just gone to donate blood—perfectly natural. "Mr. Spencer?" The doctor called me. I came back to myself and nodded. "I understand. Schedule the surgery as soon as possible." As I walked out of the consultation room, I stood in the hallway for a long time. My phone rang. It was a message from my grandfather: "Rest up properly. Don't think about useless things. The Spencer bloodline doesn't fall down so easily." Looking at that message, my nose suddenly stung. Right. We don't fall down so easily. I'd already fallen once. I wouldn't fall a second time. The doctor also said my current physical condition was too poor. Surviving on just one kidney, there would come a day when it exceeded its capacity. But fortunately, I waited less than three months before finding a suitable kidney source. The day I came out of the operating room, the old man had been waiting in my hospital room for half a day. As soon as he saw me, his face darkened. "Do you know what you did wrong?"
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