Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Ethan Carter, we trusted you with her, and this is how you take care of her?"

When I regained consciousness again, I could feel the warmth of sunlight streaming through the window and onto my face.

I tried to figure out who was speaking.

"Xiao Ning only has her grandfather left. If something happens to her, how do you expect that old man to handle it?"

It was my best friend—my closest friend from high school.

One by one, they took turns asking Ethan questions, leaving him speechless.

My eyes stung, and my heart felt like it was being squeezed tight.

I hadn't talked to them in so long.

After moving to a new city with Ethan, starting a new job, and making new friends, my time had been filled with work and Ethan. There was no room left for anything else.

I barely even visited my only grandfather.

He lived in a nursing home now, leading a simple, happy life—because he couldn't remember the painful things, not even my existence.

I didn't want him to remember. Because remembering would mean reliving the pain of losing his wife and his son.

But his forgetting also meant that in this entire world, there was no one left who remembered me as family.

Only when I was at Ethan's house could I feel even a little bit of warmth, a hint of what a family should be.

Only I knew how much I'd longed to build a family with him, to fill the void in my life.

"Ning Ning, hurry up and get better. We promised to be sisters for life," my friend said.

"Last time we asked you to travel with us, you said you were busy. You still owe us a trip."

"We're going to visit your grandfather with you, remember? Who says you have no family? We're your family now."

"And don't forget—you always said you wanted to be an illustrator. You haven't made that dream come true yet."

My friends sat beside me, pouring their hearts out.

I couldn't believe it—they remembered everything about me, even the smallest details.

I felt my eyes grow wet. I wasn't sure if tears were actually streaming down my face.

Maybe I had no right to blame Ethan. Because in the end, we were just alike.

We didn't cherish what we already had.

We couldn't see who was truly good to us.

With Ethan, I'd walked on eggshells, always trying to keep the peace.

Afraid that my arguments would make him tired of me, afraid that another woman would steal his heart.

Was this really the kind of love I'd always wanted—this 小心翼翼，self-sacrificing kind?

With my friends, I didn't have to do anything.

I didn't have to hold back my temper, didn't have to try to be perfect for them.

And they still loved me.

Why did I always put love on a pedestal, like it was more important than anything else?

Did I still have a chance to live?

A chance to get back everything I'd left behind?