Chapter 3

"Christmas is coming soon, Hazel, don't forget to buy gifts and decorate. Declan loved Christmas as a child, though not so much when he grew up."

My mother-in-law had just returned from shopping, wearing a mink coat, her high-heeled shoes clacking loudly.

"Okay."

"Ah—" My mother-in-law sighed again and said, "No matter the holiday, it's only lively with a child. You've never been pregnant all these years, so it's no wonder Declan isn't fond of them."

She had been urging me to have children since I married into the Declan family, but each time it pained my heart.

I couldn't help but retort, "Mom, you said you didn't want me to disturb Declan's rest, only allowing me to share a room with him twice a month. I want to conceive too... but having a child isn't just up to me."

Hearing this, Mother-in-law's eyebrows furrowed, her tone urgent: "It's your fault for not being able to conceive, and now you're blaming me? Declan will take over the company in the future. How can he progress if you keep clinging to him?"

She shot me a sideways glance, "You can't do anything right, but you're good at talking back. It's better if you can't have children. A servant's daughter can't give birth to smart kids. I really don't know why Declan agreed to marry you."

"Enough, say no more!" came a voice from upstairs, aged yet authoritative.

"Grandmother, why are you coming down?" I quickly went to her, supporting her as she slowly descended the stairs, her eyes like daggers aimed at my mother-in-law.

Mother-in-law looked slightly embarrassed.

The old lady was Declan's grandmother. Without her support, I would never have been able to marry into the Declan family.

Honestly, I never understood why Grandmother liked me. All I knew was that if not for her, my days would have been much harder.

"Don't glare at me like that. I'm not wrong," Mother-in-law said.

"Disharmony among children is often due to the lack of virtue in the elderly. Declan and Hazel's relationship is strained because of you," Grandmother bluntly criticized. She then turned to me and said, "Hazel, don't take it to heart. Accompany Grandmother to the hospital for a check-up tomorrow afternoon, and get yourself checked too, just as a precaution."

I nodded obediently, though I had made up my mind.

No check-up.

Declan's heart isn't with me. What's the point of having a child? Does he really want a child with me?

I returned to my room and threw myself into drawing design drafts and building models, immersing myself in work.

Only this way could I briefly suppress the pain.

H: "[Video], it's decorated according to your design, and my heart feels like it's in an ice cellar."

I immediately got nervous and quickly asked what was wrong.

H, a person both familiar and unfamiliar, we've known each other for ten years, but only online.

Ten years ago, at just 17, I got into a car accident and came to this strange world to be Declan's pursuer.

Back then, I was naive and thought everything was a game. So I eagerly confessed, and after failing, I was punished with an electric shock, landing me in the ICU.

That's when I met H. The hospital organized patients of the same age to write their contact information in little envelopes, and I added him.

But we never met in real life. He had gastritis at the time and was discharged before me.

Over the years, we've kept in touch sporadically. My girlish feelings that Declan never reciprocated were all absorbed by H.

He knew I had unavoidable reasons to like someone and that I genuinely liked that person, to the point of losing my mind, knowing full well he didn't love me back, yet still persisted.

After marrying Declan, my contact with H became less frequent.

Recently, however, he found out I became a Content Creator and was eager to be my guinea pig.

We never met in person, and he was suffering from gastritis at the time, so he was discharged from the hospital before me.

Over the years, we occasionally kept in touch, but my innocent feelings for Declan were never reciprocated; instead, they were absorbed by H.

He understood that I felt compelled to like someone, and he knew I genuinely liked that person to the point of losing myself, even though I knew he didn’t love me back, yet I persisted.

After marrying Declan, my contact with H became less frequent.

Recently, when H found out I became a Content Creator, he was eager to be my first test subject.

As my first client, H's opinion was crucial, but now he seems horrified by my design.

Is it really that bad...

H: [Just kidding, sis, your design is my dream home.]

I couldn't help but smile, but I wasn't really in the mood for joking around, so I just sent an emoji.

However, H sensed something was wrong and asked, [Is something bothering you? Is it about him again?]

[Don't worry about me, I'm used to it.]

There was a long silence before a voice call came through.

I panicked and almost hung up.

For so many years, H was like a presence in my life rather than a real person.

I didn’t know his appearance, his job, his family, or even his voice.

In my mind, he was like a playful big brother who never got upset easily.

When his gentle and clear voice came through the phone, I was taken aback by how wonderful it sounded.

With a voice like that, if he could sing in tune, he could be a singer.

"You don't have to talk; I just want to sing you a song."

Could he really sing? I wondered if he could read my thoughts, so I simply hummed in response.

His singing was even more impressive than his speaking voice.

I bit my lip, feeling tears welling up: "Thank you..."

This long-lost comfort.

"Take care of yourself, we’ll talk another time. I’ll hang up now."

The call ended, and I found myself looking forward to our next conversation.