Chapter 4

Chloe's POV

When I woke up, I found myself lying in my own room.

The cut on my hand had been treated and wrapped in a thin layer of gauze.

I turned my head and saw Julian sitting by the bed, holding the leftover roll of bandages.

"You're awake?" His expression was indifferent. "Behave yourself. Mia has a gentle temper and isn't holding a grudge, but don't provoke her again."

"When I collapsed, where were you?" I asked.

"Downstairs, waiting for the doctor with her," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

I looked at him.

I figured after I passed out, he was the one who carried me back to the room and bandaged my hand.

But his heart no longer belonged to me.

How I passed out, whether I was in pain, whether I was scared—he didn't ask a single question.

I pulled my bandaged hand under the blanket. "Understood."

Julian stood up to leave.

Staring at his back, I couldn't help but ask, "Her knee was slightly red, and your heart ached for her. When you bandaged my hand, didn't you see the blood?"

Julian paused, but didn't turn around. "You're stronger than she is."

The door clicked shut.

Staring up at the plain white ceiling, I let out a dry laugh.

Strong.

In his eyes, the blood pouring from my body wasn't a wound; it just meant I had a higher pain tolerance.

A few days later, a group of people drove out to the countryside for stargazing.

They called it stargazing, but in reality, Julian just wanted to take Mia out to clear her head.

Tents were pitched in the valley. The night wind blew hard, and the stars hung so thick they looked ready to fall.

Late into the night, disaster struck on the hillside.

First came panicked screams, followed by a violent tremor beneath our feet, and chaos erupted outside the tents.

Julian lunged forward, pulling Mia into his chest and shielding her with his entire back.

A stray rock grazed his forearm, tearing open a bloody gash, but he didn't even flinch. He just kept his head down, asking Mia if she was scared.

As the fleeing crowd rushed past, he scooped Mia up and ran toward safety with them, vanishing in an instant.

I was left behind.

In the past, he would have immediately pulled me behind him and said, "I'm here."

Tonight, that tenderness belonged to someone else. I stood there alone, and he hadn't spared me a single glance.

The mountain path was pitch black, steep, and narrow.

My foot slipped, my knee crashed against a boulder, and my hands were scraped raw.

Gritting my teeth, I pushed forward. Just as I was about to reach the safe zone, I spotted a figure standing ahead. It was Mia.

Seeing me, she put on an expression of deep concern. Pointing off to the side, she said, "This way is faster. Take this trail up."

I paused at the fork. The path was pitch black, leading into nowhere.

"Hurry!" Mia urged. "There are more rocks falling behind you!"

I followed that path.

The further I walked, the more desolate it became. It was completely abandoned, a massive detour.

I stumbled around in the dark for what felt like hours, twisting my ankle and tearing open the wounds on my hands. By the time I finally found my way back to the lights, I was covered in mud.

One of the crew members gasped and reached out to support me. "Chloe, what happened to you—"

"I'm fine." I brushed his hand off and stood on my own.

Julian was currently sitting beside Mia, warming her hands in his.

I limped into the pool of light.

He looked up, scanned my disheveled state, and immediately scowled. "How did you end up covered in cuts? You can't even walk properly? Stop making a scene."

Mia, wrapped snugly in a blanket, tugged on Julian's sleeve with wide, innocent eyes. "Don't blame Chloe. She didn't do it on purpose."

I looked at her.

"Mia gave me the wrong directions." The words were right on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them down again.

Back upstairs, she cried in his arms, and he instantly believed her.

Now, even if she sent me down the wrong path on purpose, he would still take her side.

Speaking up would only add another charge of "framing Mia," giving him another excuse to rattle off my parents' address.

I slowly bent down, pressing a hand against my bloody knee.

"Yeah," I said softly. "I was careless."

I found a quiet corner to sit down, dug out some ointment from my bag, and treated my twisted ankle.

It hurt. It hurt terribly.

But for the sake of my parents' peace in that small town, this pain was worth it.

Across the campsite, the sound of Mia being pampered and teased drifted through the night air, muffled by the wind.

I pulled my pant leg down and closed my eyes.

Tonight made one thing crystal clear: when real danger struck, he could only save one person, and that person was no longer me.