“It’s really not that big a deal...”
That’s what I told him later.
“You probably don’t know this, but at the clinic, I’m kind of the unofficial go-to for old folks and kids. My best friend — Ai — you’ve met her, right?—used to say all the time that for someone like me, an Omega with no looks, no figure, no charm, the only thing I have going for me is patience and the ability to care for others.”

I shrugged. “Honestly, I take care of people all the time. You’re not even in the top three most troublesome.”

He made a face at that—like he didn’t agree—but didn’t say anything.

I didn’t think much of it. Just quietly cleaned up the kitchen.
After washing my hands, I paused. He might be hungry.
So I peeled an apple, sliced it up, and laid it out neatly on a plate for him.

I was yawning, already half on my way to bed, when his voice stopped me.

“I don’t think you should talk about yourself like that,” he said slowly, hesitantly.
“I don’t care who said you’re not attractive… You’re actually really good-looking, you know that?”

My heart skipped—suddenly, inexplicably. I turned to look at him.
But he kept his eyes lowered, like he didn’t dare meet mine.

“If you ask me… you’ve got the best face in the world,” he mumbled, then closed his eyes and let out a long, quiet sigh.

“And not just your face…” he opened his eyes again, clearly flustered now, changing the subject.
“You’ve got a really kind temperament. You’re… gentle.”

“I don’t think I deserve to be married to someone like you,” he said finally.
“But you’ve been willing to take care of me… and for that, thank you.”

My face burned.
I didn’t know what to say.
In the end, I just muttered some scrambled version of goodnight, shut the door, and buried myself under the covers like a coward.

======

It wasn’t until much later that Elliott admitted—when he agreed to marry me, he really hadn’t thought through all the day-to-day stuff—groceries, cooking, chores, just life.
To be honest, if he had thought about it more, he probably wouldn’t have gone through with it.

He admitted that, at the time, his idea was simple:
He just wanted to be closer to me. That’s all. Just a little closer—close enough to see me. He didn’t even need to get that close.

And I get it now. Back then, he wasn’t trying to get to know me as a person.
He just didn’t want to lose the face that looked exactly like Lucian Qin’s. That was all.

But speaking of which…

If Elliott hadn’t gotten injured on duty—if we hadn’t ended up spending those weeks together while he recovered— would we have ended up here, where we are now?

I don’t know.

No one does.

All I know is that, for two people who had felt like strangers, that month was—in some quiet, stubborn way—a kind of beginning.

—

Right before we left the hospital, the doctor pulled me aside and gave me a list of instructions.
“Watch his diet closely. Less oil, less salt. Avoid anything too spicy or greasy—no fried foods, no refined carbs. And absolutely no smoking or drinking.”
She looked dead serious, left no room for argument

I was confused.
Elliott had external injuries—why the fuss about food?

Noticing the look on my face, Dr. Wu adjusted her glasses and hesitated before explaining:
“Detective Lin has chronic stomach issues. We only discovered it during post-op monitoring. Honestly, even if he hadn’t been hospitalized for this, he probably would’ve ended up here within three months anyway—gastric bleeding.
He keeps terrible hours, his eating habits are all over the place, and the stress from his job doesn’t help. If he doesn’t start paying attention, it could get a lot worse.”

I nodded, taking mental notes of everything she said—recipes, meal plans, the lot.
Then I turned to glance at Elliott.

He was sitting by the window, frowning as he talked to Teresa.
He didn’t look very pleased.
Something clearly wasn’t going the way he wanted.

A moment later, he leaned forward in his wheelchair, trying to reach for something in Teresa’s hand.
She pulled a face at him, held whatever it was out of reach, then unfolded it with an exaggerated flair and crumpled it right in front of him before tossing it in the bin.

Only then did I see what it was—a pack of cigarettes.

Dr. Wu and I exchanged a glance— and let out the same long sigh.