"I know it’s no use. What’s lost can never be recovered. The past hurt, the past wounds, can never be erased." Tristan Grayson forced a bitter smile, his eyes filled with deep sorrow.

Mika Summers reached out to steady herself on the nearby sink, sneering, "Since you know all that, what else is there to say?"

"Mika, I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. If... if you still have even a shred, just a tiny shred of feeling for me, please, just trust me one last time, okay? I swear, I’ll cherish you this time. I really will."

"No. Just no. Tristan Grayson, do you think I haven’t been pathetic enough for you? Do you think I’m still the same girl who would throw herself at you like I used to?"

"..." Hearing her words, Tristan Grayson’s lips curved into a smile—a desolate and lonely one.

’There’s really no going back. It’s impossible to fix things now. The woman she is today is no longer his Mika. How could she possibly still love him...’

’His Mika was really gone... gone for good...’

As these thoughts crossed his mind, Tristan Grayson slowly got up from the floor. He placed the ointment back on the table and said in a hoarse voice, "Mika, I’m leaving the ointment out here. Remember to put it on when you come out."

Mika Summers didn’t answer. Instead, she leaned against the wall and slid to the floor.

It felt as if all the strength had been drained from her body.

She curled into a ball, hugging herself tightly, as if she had reverted to the girl she was all those years ago.

The girl who Tristan Grayson constantly bullied but never dared to cry out loud; the girl who, after being bullied by him, could only find a place to hide and cry alone; the girl who, when hurt by him, could only swallow all her pain.

’Why is it like this? It’s been over two years! I had clearly forgotten him. I had clearly become strong enough to face anything. But... but after all my efforts over the past two years, the moment I have to face Tristan Grayson, it’s all for nothing...’

’I can’t be strong on my own...’

She didn’t know how long she sat like that before her emotions finally settled.

She got up from the floor, opened the door, and walked out. She went to the table, picked up the ointment, and a faint, bitter smile touched her lips. "Tristan Grayson, what makes you think I would use anything you gave me?" As she spoke, she turned and threw the ointment at the door.

She threw back the covers, lay down on the bed, and pulled the blanket tightly around herself, starting to cry softly.

’I have to get out of here. If this goes on, I’m afraid I’ll fall back into the same situation as before...’

She didn’t know how long she cried before she finally drifted into a groggy sleep.

Tristan Grayson had been leaning against the door the whole time, chain-smoking one cigarette after another. When he heard Mika’s words, he didn’t know how he managed to suppress the overwhelming emotions swelling within him.

After finishing the whole pack, he stood there alone for about ten minutes before opening the door and going inside. He picked up the ointment from the floor and walked toward her on the bed.

When he reached her side, he clearly saw the two bruises on her arm. He slowly lifted the blanket, his brow furrowing even more deeply. A large, red, and swollen patch covered the lower left side of her back. He twisted open the ointment and gently applied it, terrified of waking her.

Mika Summers had actually woken up the moment Tristan Grayson lifted the blanket, but she kept her eyes closed.

When she felt the stinging pain on her back, she couldn’t help but furrow her delicate brows and open her eyes...