Chapter 17
“She tried to threaten Alexander with suicide, but ended up playing with fire and getting burned. Now she’s lost the baby, broken her leg, and become paraplegic. That arrogant heiress has fallen from grace. Isn’t this more torturous than killing her?”
Just then, a knock sounded at the door: “Dr. Johnson, the patient’s being wheeled into surgery.”
Rita responded, cutting off Barbara’s rambling. “Barbara, don’t update me about them anymore.”
None of this concerned her now.
After faking her death to escape, she’d gained a new name–Rita Johnson.
A heart preserving its beginning, light illuminating the future.
Whenever needed, she found the courage to start anew.
She could embrace a bright future without leaning on anyone.
Rita hung up and walked straight into the operating room.
When she finished surgery and stepped outside, rain was falling.
Glancing down the empty hospital corridor, she calculated the ten–minute walk home.
She was about to dash into the rain.
After two steps, sudden dryness sheltered her head.
Turning, she collided with Timothy’s smiling eyes.
She remembered arriving in Canada–stranded, robbed of phone and wallet. Timothy had offered help first, calling police to recover her things before she ended up homeless.
Later he’d guided her through the city, helped her find work. Gradually they grew close, yet never crossed that line.
She couldn’t risk betting again, nor spare energy for new romance.
Especially since Timothy was four years younger.
The youth held a black umbrella large enough for two. Mud speckled his trousers–he’d clearly run here. Rain–damp- ened hair clung to his forehead, making him look less refined and more human.
“Why are you here?”
Rita stepped back half a pace, her tone casually light.
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Chapter 17
“Just off work,” Timothy’s voice lowered with the rain’s rhythm. “Passing through.”
Rita raised an eyebrow.
The hospital stood east; the financial district where he worked was west. What kind of detour was this?
But she didn’t call him out.
They walked silently through the downpour, maintaining careful distance.
Nguyenddenly his fingers circled her wrist.
Not forceful, yet unyielding.
His cool touch burned through her soaked shirt like a sting.
“Sister,” he looked down. Streetlight filtered through rain, casting shadows on his lashes. “Your blouse is wet.”
Only then Rita noticed–her left side was drenched, fabric clinging to reveal dark contours beneath.
Heat rushed to her ears.
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As she tried pulling away, he released her first. Instead, he shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over her shoul-
ders.
Clean cedar scent, still warm from his body.
Just as Rita reached to remove it, he murmured: “Don’t catch cold.”
His serious tone felt unlike his usual playful self.
Rita froze.
She remembered meeting Alexander years ago–he’d draped his coat over her too, offering meticulous care. Yet after marriage, he’d shifted all his care to another woman.
Her heart felt like being pricked by tiny needles. She abruptly pulled off the coat and handed it back. “No need. I’ll just change upstairs.‘
Timothy didn’t take it. Instead, he stepped half a pace closer.
The umbrella tilted, sheltering her completely while his shoulder soaked in the rain. Dark stains spread across his black shirt.
“Just wear it for now.”
His gaze locked with hers, voice soft as a sigh. “Return it when you’re inside.”
The air stilled, leaving only rain drumming against the umbrella.
Rita saw the stubbornness in his eyes and finally relented.
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Chapter 17
Upstairs, she fished out her keys.
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As the entryway light flickered on, she moved to return the coat. But Timothy pulled pink fleece slippers from his bag, placing them at her feet as naturally as if this were his home.
Rita suddenly recalled complaining to coworkers yesterday: “Canada’s freezing–my feet ache in sandals at night.” She never expected him to overhear.
“Timothy…”
His name escaped her lips unconsciously.
“Yeah?”
He straightened up, eyes catching on her neckline. His hand darted out.
She flinched, but his fingers merely brushed her earlobe, plucking off a stray leaf.
“All set.”
He withdrew his hand, fingertips curling slightly as if savoring her warmth. “I’m off.”
Rita watched his retreating figure vanish into the rainy darkness, the black umbrella merging with the night.
Glancing at the coat still radiating warmth around her shoulders, then at the pink slippers, she realized this boy she’d always treated as a younger brother had seeped into her life like this relentless rain–inescapable and all–encompass- ing.
Her phone buzzed–a message from Timothy: Off tomorrow. Wanna grab dinner?
A puppy wagging its tail emoji followed, mirroring his usual wheedling expression.
Rita stared at the screen, finger hovering over Already booked. The draft remained unsent.
Rain–chilled air seeped through the doorway. She tightened the cedar–scented coat around herself, her heartbeat echo- ing through the empty room in an ill–timed rhythm.
Her fingers danced across the screen, deleting and rewriting until only two characters remained:
Nguyenre.
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