Chapter 1The Silence of the Strings

Caleb Sterling realized that I had stopped consulting him about everything.

When the company offered me an overseas assignment, I signed the papers before I even thought to ask for his opinion.

When my best friend invited me to her wedding with a "plus one," I attended alone and gave a generous gift.

Even when it came to surgery and hospitalization, I handled the appointments and booked the bed myself.

Caleb, being a doctor, frowned when he eventually found out.

"You’re sick? Why didn’t you tell me? Give me your records; I’ll make the arrangements for you."

I blurted out instinctively:

"I can handle it myself. I don't want to trouble you. Thank you."

The moment those words left my mouth, we both froze.

After all, only half a month ago, I was the "clingy giant infant" he complained about—the one who messaged him to ask which dress to wear on a date or what to eat for lunch.

* * *

"You want the surgery tomorrow? That’s sudden."

The attending physician handed me my chart, his voice tinged with confusion.

"I recall Dr. Sterling is coming back from his seminar soon. You could wait for him to accompany you..."

I interrupted softly, "It’s my own business. I can handle it."

The doctor looked surprised. After all, I was notoriously "delicate" in this hospital; even for a minor headache or a slight fever, I used to insist that Caleb stay by my side.

Just as I stepped out of the clinic, I bumped into a familiar figure.

Caleb was pushing a suitcase with one hand, looking like he had just rushed from the airport back to the hospital.

Lydia Vance followed closely behind him, wearing a white lab coat with a black cashmere coat draped over it—the very coat I had given Caleb for our third anniversary.

Caleb frowned.

"What are you doing here? ... Are you sick again?"

Again.

That familiar note of impatience made it sound as if I were a troublesome chore that needed handling.

He snatched the medical records from my hand, scanned them briefly, and commanded:

"I have things to do tomorrow."

"This isn't an emergency. Move the surgery to next week, and I’ll go with you."

I blurted out instinctively:

"I can handle it myself. I don't want to trouble you. Thank you."

The excessive politeness and distance made Caleb freeze.

After all, the old me would cry and act spoiled over a paper cut. I used to bomb his phone with messages just to have him pick an outfit for dinner.

From my three meals a day to major life decisions, I used to consult him on everything.

Now, I was facing surgery alone without batting an eye.

If we hadn't bumped into each other by chance, my own boyfriend wouldn't even have known.

I snatched the records back, accidentally knocking a small box out of Caleb’s hand.

The name on the box caught my eye—a pack of... birth control pills.

"Don't get the wrong idea."

Caleb leaned down to pick it up, his voice carrying a businesslike detachment.

"Lydia has severe menstrual cramps. This is a common prescription to help."

Lydia pulled the coat tighter around her, explaining in a small, panicked voice:

"I'm so sorry, Piper. Caleb was supposed to head home, but I was so useless—the pain was so bad I couldn't stand, so I bothered him to help me get the prescription filled."

She paused, her tone full of sincere envy.

"If only I could be as independent as you, Piper. Then Caleb wouldn't have to work so hard running around for me."

Once, I had severe abdominal pain and asked Caleb which specialist I should see.

What did the youngest deputy head of neurosurgery at a top hospital say?

He said, "I don't know."

When I complained about his dismissiveness, he pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly, looking at me like I was a nagging child.

"Can't you just Google something that small?"

"You're an adult. Can't you be a little more independent? Stop relying on me like a toddler."

"I'm not your parent. I'm not obligated to teach you basic life skills."

How hilarious. He was a man of few words for his girlfriend, yet for his "junior," he personally accompanied her to the clinic and filled her prescriptions.

An outsider would have thought Lydia was his actual partner.

If this were the past, I would have lost my temper and started a scene right there.

But now, I just said, "Oh," my voice flat.

"Pills aren't enough. You should also massage her stomach, hold her while she sleeps, and keep her hands and feet warm."

Lydia’s face flushed deep red.

"Piper, I didn't mean it like that..."

My well-meaning advice was interpreted by Caleb as a tantrum. His voice turned cold.

"Are you still throwing a fit? Just because I didn't report every detail of my trip to you?"

Half a month ago was his birthday.

I had worked crazy overtime to finish a project so I could take time off. I cooked a whole dinner and picked up a custom-made gift, waiting to celebrate with him.

I waited until midnight, and Caleb never came home.

Only through Lydia’s Instagram did I find out he had left for an international exchange program.

Caleb brushed it off later.

"It was just a business trip. There was no need to consult you."

"Birthdays happen every year, but career opportunities don't. I thought you'd be able to distinguish between what's urgent and what's not."

"Don't you have your own things to do? Why are you always obsessing over my movements?"

My accumulated disappointment was like a bursting dam. I couldn't help questioning him:

"Caleb, is it because in your 'urgent and important' list, I am always the least urgent and most unimportant one?"

Compared to my near-hysteria, Caleb just said one thing before hanging up.

"You're not being rational right now. We'll talk when I'm back."