Chapter 1
Catherine Hawthorne had always imagined herself in a whirlwind romance, not tethered to a rigid schedule, sharing her life with Gregory Brightwood, an orthopedic surgeon obsessed with rules and regulations. It didn’t take long for the novelty of early marriage to wear off, and she quickly realized just how stifling her husband’s meticulous nature could be. “Catherine Hawthorne,” Gregory said one night, his voice devoid of inflection, “no talking at the dinner table.” He stopped, fork poised mid-air, as if that would somehow compel her to follow. “Seriously? I can’t even compliment your cooking?” she shot back, trying to mask her frustration with sarcasm. “Nope,” he said, without looking up from his plate. “What if I say you’re handsome?” she persisted, testing the bounds of his rigidity. “Not allowed either.” With a huff, she threw her hands up in exasperation. “Alright! I won’t speak another word, then!” Gregory glanced at her, an eyebrow quirked. “That’s even worse.” Her confusion deepened—how could not talking be a bigger sin? The absurdity of it all flowed through her, a little seed of rebellion sprouting in her chest. She envisioned a life beyond these walls of verbal oppression—one where her laughter echoed freely, not smothered by a whispered list of dos and don’ts. Fast forward to the day she decided to file for divorce. Catherine stood at the Civic Hall, rehearsing her brave face. Gregory's family flooded the room, a wall of concerned expressions and desperate pleas for her to reconsider. Among the chorus of voices, one thing stood out: Gregory, quiet and stoic, standing like a statue while the world around him went mad. Everyone knew it was a loveless marriage—two people living separate lives under the same roof. But just when she thought he was finally ready to let her go, something unexpected happened. The night before the hearing, she found him, surprisingly disheveled, at a local bar. His usual air of control shattered. Gregory, the teetotaler, was three sheets to the wind. Red-eyed, he pulled Catherine close, his breath reeking of whiskey and desperation. “Catherine… please,” he murmured, struggling to focus as he locked eyes with hers. “Can we just—can we not do this? Just this once?” All her carefully laid plans began to falter beneath the weight of his desperate plea. His normally composed demeanor was replaced with a raw reveal of vulnerability, leaving her at a crossroads. Every sharp word she had rehearsed to slice through the air crumbled like dry leaves. Against the backdrop of his brokenness, she realized she hardly knew this man. Where was the Gregory that stuck to the rules? What had broken him so entirely that he now stood before her begging like a lost child? Catherine inhaled sharply, torn between what was right and what she felt was necessary. The love she once envisioned had been buried beneath layers of rigid correctness and unmet emotional needs. But as he swayed, she also saw the glimmer of a person—someone who, despite everything, had the capacity for longing and change. Desperation hung in the air, each heartbeat marking the seconds that could determine her future. The question now was clear: Did she have the heart to turn away from the man who had finally shown her a sliver of humanity, or would she leave him standing there, drowning in his own regrets, a stark reminder of a marriage that had never really begun? “Greg,” she whispered, her voice barely louder than a breath, unsure if they were speaking of the marriage or of their own histories. The weight of their years together pressed on her chest like a quiet storm. But for now, as the clock ticked toward an irrevocable decision, the fate of their love hung precariously in the balance.
Chapter 2
As autumn settled in, the once-vibrant green outside Catherine Hawthorne's window shifted to mottled hues of yellow and brown. The occasional breeze sent brittle leaves spiraling down like confetti, an elegant, if melancholy, scene. But inside, the atmosphere was anything but poetic. Catherine, hunched over her sketchpad, glanced at a stray leaf that had floated onto her workspace and flicked it away with annoyance. Her mood mirrored the constant ping of notifications on her phone, demanding artwork, feedback, and the usual relentless barrage of deadlines. There was a knock on the door, followed by it swinging open. “Catherine!” She didn’t look up. “I didn’t say you could come in.” “Ugh, you stubborn girl…” Eleanor Kingsley, her mother, glided in, looking every bit the part of a well-preserved socialite in a tailored dress. Carefully, she perched on the edge of Catherine's bed. “Ouch! This back of mine is killing me.” Catherine sighed, finally turning her head to face her mother. “What is it, Mom? I’m trying to work here.” “‘Work.’ What are you working on? You think drawing is going to put food on the table?” “Funny you mention food, because yes, it pays for some of it.” Catherine rolled her eyes. “Enough with the sarcasm. You can’t even afford to buy a decent outfit for yourself with that hobby,” Eleanor shot back, exasperated. “Put down your little doodles; your grandmother's in the hospital, and you need to go see her this afternoon.” “Grandma’s sick?” “Honestly, how did you not know this? You’re her granddaughter!” Catherine sniffed. “To be honest, I had completely forgotten.” Eleanor rolled her eyes skyward, clearly fed up. “Look, Gregory will be back later today. You can go together.” “Gregory Brightwood is back?” Catherine straightened up, genuine surprise lacing her voice. Eleanor's eyes widened, her irritation bubbling over. “See? This is exactly the problem! Your husband is returning, and you’re acting like it’s just another Tuesday. Could you pay a little attention?” Catherine rested her chin on her hand, irritation brewing. “Mom, keep your voice down. I don’t want the neighbors thinking my marriage is on the rocks.” “Is it not?” She scoffed, crossing her arms. “I’m tired of this. You’re always nagging me. For crying out loud, I'm only twenty-four! Can’t a girl enjoy her youth without being pushed into motherhood every five minutes?” Eleanor, bristling, shot an indignant glance at her. “That’s not what I meant! I just—he’s back, and you two need to reconnect. You’ve been married for six months already, and still no news on a baby?” Catherine could barely contain her laughter. “Married for six months, but he’s been in Hong Kong for most of it! It’s not like I’m dating a ghost here.” A teasing smile crossed her face. “And, let’s be real, this obsession with me getting pregnant is so outdated.” Eleanor was clearly flustered now. “I’m just saying you need to take this seriously. He’s settled back in, and you two need to figure out your future.” “Sure, Mom, I’ll get right on that. But right now, can you please leave? I really need to focus.” Catherine punctuated her sentence by slipping on her headphones. Eleanor, feeling outmatched, huffed and retreated after a few more half-hearted admonishments. Once her mom was gone, Catherine put the finishing touches on her illustration. After sending it off to the studio, she glanced around her childhood room, the familiar clutter settling her thoughts. The Brightwood name had been more business than romance for a while now, but that was fine by her. She packed her things decisively. With Gregory back in town, lingering at her parents’ house would be a recipe for disaster—her mother’s nagging was relentless, and Catherine was tired of it. She hopped into her SUV, a massive vehicle that suited her tastes but felt oddly out of place for a woman of her artistic persuasion. The couple’s apartment in Market Square was an extravagant choice driven by convenience; its proximity to the Royal Infirmary was a perk Greg had insisted on when they bought it. Who would’ve guessed that right after tying the knot, he’d be whisked off to Hong Kong? But Catherine had never resented him for it. In fact, she had enjoyed the solitude. Arriving back at their apartment, Catherine grabbed her art supplies in one hand and her suitcase in the other, making her way upstairs. She keyed in the code and pushed the door open. The apartment was quiet, almost unsettlingly so, except for an unattended suitcase lying smack in the middle of the living room floor—its shipping tag still attached. Gregory had been here. She stowed her suitcase in the bedroom closet, then flopped down on the couch, pulling out her phone to text him—a message long overdue. “Hey, Gregory. Heard you’re back?” Within seconds, his reply lit up the screen. “Yeah.” Catherine arched an eyebrow, feeling the coldness radiate from that reply. But just moments later, another message popped up: “Sorry, didn’t tell you sooner.” With a scoff, she couldn’t shake the sensation of his chilly demeanor. This was Gregory Brightwood—caring yet detached, polite at the expense of warmth. She knew they had responsibilities to one another, but after months apart, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something fundamental was still missing between them.
Chapter 3
Lu Sangsang’s fingers flew over her phone screen: "I heard Grandma's sick. Let’s go visit her at the hospital. Where are you?" Duan Jinghuai replied, "I’m already at the hospital." She rolled her eyes. Seriously? He didn’t even invite her to join him. It felt intentional, as if he was trying to brand her as the ungrateful granddaughter. Irritated, she forced herself to respond politely, "Which hospital? I'm worried about Grandma. I want to see her too." "Second Hospital, VIP ward," he texted back. "Okay, on my way," she typed quickly. Their conversation flowed so smoothly, it was as if they were completely unconcerned about the fact that they hadn’t communicated in over half a year. When there was no further reply from him, Lu Sangsang took her time, rising from the couch to freshen up in the bathroom. After sprucing up a bit, she grabbed her car keys and headed out. As she drove to the hospital, boredom set in, and her thoughts drifted back to their wedding. It had been understated, with only a handful of guests. She could still picture Duan Jinghuai standing before the officiant, slipping the ring onto her finger with all the warmth of a cold winter breeze; his sharp features devoid of any joy. At least she had been smiling that day; it was hard not to, marrying a guy from a wealthy, powerful family who looked good too. About ten minutes later, she parked in the hospital lot. Lu Sangsang took the assortment of fruits and health supplements she had bought en route and headed straight to the inpatient building. "Good afternoon, may I see your ID card?" the nurse at the reception desk asked. "Sure," she replied, pulling out her hospital pass. The VIP ward had strict access rules. The nurse continued, "Or you could tell me who you're visiting, and I’ll contact the family." "Oh, one sec. Let me call." She fished out her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she found Duan Jinghuai’s name and dialed. The phone rang and connected almost immediately. "Hey," he answered. "I’m here, can you come and escort me?" she said. "Yeah," was his brief reply before he hung up. A minute later, she spotted a tall figure approaching from the end of the hallway. He wore a crisp black shirt tucked into tailored black slacks, the long black coat draping over him like a model on a runway. She couldn’t help but recall how stunning he looked in his wedding suit half a year ago, making even her bridesmaids blush. Duan Jinghuai was undeniably good-looking, but his face was still set in its usual stoic mask. Unyielding, unsmiling, he resembled that untouchable lotus flower someone had once called him in the elite circles of the capital, untouched by the muck of the world. After all these years, he hadn’t changed a bit. "Duan, doctor," Lu Sangsang quickly altered her demeanor, raising her hand enthusiastically to greet him. "I’m right here!" He had already spotted her. After exchanging a few words with the nearby nurse about letting her in easily, he turned to Lu Sangsang, his gaze assessing her cheerful facade. "Give me that," he said, holding out his hand. She handed over the two hefty bags she was carrying without hesitation. "These are pretty heavy," she remarked. He grunted in acknowledgment and started to walk inside. Lu Sangsang trotted after him, unable to resist. "Hey, you didn’t mention you were coming back." "Last-minute decision," he replied curtly. “Oh." She hesitated. "Well, you should’ve let me know, just in case the family asks me where you’ve been." His features remained impassive as he glanced sideways. "I’m not going anywhere. I wrapped things up in Hong Kong." "Got it…" she replied, a hint of regret creeping into her tone. So much for a ‘single’ life. "Is this the room?" "Yes." They stopped in front of a patient’s room. Duan Jinghuai, still carrying the items, nudged her to open the door. Just as she reached for the handle, it swung open from the inside. A man stepped out who was roughly the same height as Duan Jinghuai, his features bearing a slight resemblance but vastly different in temperament. Lu Sangsang knew this newest arrival well. “Brother," the man said, spotting Duan Jinghuai. She recognized him immediately. This was Duan Jinghuai’s younger brother, Duan Jinghang. As their eyes met, Duan Jinghang’s gaze softened. He smiled and greeted her, "Sister-in-law." His voice was easygoing, and the casual title struck her as odd; she was not used to it coming from him, especially considering he was three years her senior. Lu Sangsang chuckled nervously, "Uh, hey." "Come on in," Duan Jinghuai urged. “Sure,” she replied, stepping inside, her heart racing a bit as they passed each other. The moment felt slightly surreal, mixed with a wave of awkwardness. Although she hadn’t seen Duan Jinghang for years, old memories flooded her mind, reminding her of their less-than-stellar past. After all, she had had a crush on him once, and now she couldn’t help but think about how she’d ended up with his older brother instead.
Chapter 4
"Well, look who decided to show up, Catherine." As Catherine Hawthorne stepped through the door, her eyes landed on a woman sitting on the sofa, dressed in a striking red dress. Matilda Ashford—her mother-in-law. "Hi, Ma," Catherine greeted, forcing a smile. "Your grandma was just asking about you. I didn’t think you’d come so soon." "Actually, I'm late," Catherine said, moving towards her grandmother, Elizabeth Westfield. She placed her bag down, concern flitting across her face. "Grandma, how are you feeling today?" Elizabeth’s face lit up when she spotted her granddaughter. "Oh, I'm just fine. You don't need to worry about me." "I’m so sorry for not coming by sooner," Catherine said, guilt creeping in. "It's alright, sweetie. You have your own lives to manage. Besides, I'm just dealing with some old age stuff—nothing serious." "I brought some fresh fruit for you. Is there a kind you’d like me to wash for you now?" Catherine offered cheerfully. "Not just yet." Elizabeth took Catherine's hand in hers, her grip warm and steady. "I just want to sit here and enjoy your company." "Of course," Catherine replied, settling at the edge of the bed, ensuring she had her grandmother in view. The two sat close to Elizabeth’s bed, the room filled with a comfortable stillness. Elizabeth couldn’t help but glance at her grandson, Gregory, who sat across the room. Her tone shifted slightly, a hint of maternal resolve piercing through her genial demeanor. "Catherine, I feel for you during these tough times. Look at Gregory—he's never home." "It's fine, Grandma. We keep in touch regularly, and I’ll be going to Hong Kong to see him soon," Catherine said, her voice steady despite the lie slipping from her lips. "Distance doesn’t matter, right?" She directed her question toward Gregory. He frowned slightly but nodded, feigning nonchalance. At first, Elizabeth had reservations about their relationship, but over time she found Catherine to be an endearing presence. That initial worry faded, replaced by a sense of approval. "That’s what I like to hear! You two should cherish each other. I’m just hoping to hold my great-grandchild soon," Elizabeth teased, an affectionate smile playing on her lips. Catherine’s cheeks flushed with an embarrassed warmth. "Let’s not rush things," she managed to utter, her heart racing at the thought. "Why not?" Matilda interjected, her voice softer yet firm. "Gregory, now that you’re back, it's about time you two started making some decisions." Gregory, maintaining his usual stoic demeanor, replied, "We can talk about it later." "Later, later... You keep saying that. You need to take real action," Matilda continued, switching her gaze to Catherine, her tone gentler now. "Catherine, trust me, having kids is better sooner rather than later. If you need a hand, I'd be happy to help out. You won’t even notice the difference in your young lives." Catherine smiled, nodding in agreement. "Got it, Mom." Once they left the hospital, it was already past seven in the evening. The night had fully settled, streetlights casting a soft glow over everything, half-hidden in the shadows. Catherine and Gregory walked in silence, the air thick with unspoken words, feeling like strangers despite the history they shared. Though they didn’t share a close bond, she knew Gregory well enough. Their paths had crossed long ago, when she was around sixteen or seventeen. Back then, elite families resided in the upscale Manor District of Imperial Capital. Hawthorne Enterprises and Brightwood Holdings were neighbors, and her parents often spoke of the Brightwood family’s exemplary children—especially Gregory—as the ideal benchmark. Gregory was the quintessential "perfect child." "You drive here?" Catherine broke the silence. "No," he replied curtly. "Then hop in my car." Gregory nodded slightly, his tone stiff yet polite. "Thanks." Catherine gave him a knowing smile. "It’s no trouble. We’re headed to the same place." “…” The conversation ended there, and they slid into the warmth of the car as daylight faded into an electric night, the streets alive with the hum of traffic and neon colors. Catherine stole glances at Gregory as he sat upright in the passenger seat, all business-like, his expression stoic and unreadable. She usually prided herself on being chatty, but around Gregory, words fell flat. As for him, he had always been the quiet type. She often thought it was for the best that he pursued a medical career; with his lack of social skills, he wouldn’t fare well in the cutthroat business world. Yet, the Brightwoods had always been entrenched in the medical field, branching out to business only with Gregory’s father. Brightwood Holdings was thriving, especially in real estate. Everyone expected Gregory, as the eldest son, to take the reins, but he surprised them all by choosing medicine instead. His younger brother, Arthur, seamlessly slid into the family business. Still, none of this mattered now. At this point, regardless of whether Gregory practiced medicine or business, his status as the Brightwood heir remained unchanged. — Before long, they arrived home at Village Commons. The pair grabbed a quick bite downstairs before retreating into the familiar walls of their residence. As Catherine headed for a shower, Gregory took to organizing his belongings in the living room. After a lengthy routine—caring for her skin, washing her hair—Catherine emerged refreshed. Gregory had already finished showering and was seated on the couch, deeply engrossed in paperwork. A folder lay open on his lap, and he leaned forward, intent on the glowing screen of a notebook. The blue light harshly illuminated his chiseled features, softening his typical stern demeanor just a touch. What a handsome sight, she mused, but why so cold? "Dr. Brightwood, still working this late?" Catherine said with a light chuckle, picking up a glass of orange juice from the table. Gregory looked up, his expression serious. "I need to review a patient’s file." "Got it." Catherine placed the glass back down, adjusting her tone. "Well, I’m kind of tired. I’m heading to bed now." "Wait." Gregory's sudden call caused her to pause, brows furrowing in confusion.
Chapter 5
Catherine Hawthorne raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise on her face. "What’s up?" Gregory Brightwood furrowed his brow, pausing before replying, "You really don’t have to take what my grandmother said to heart." Catherine's expression shifted as understanding dawned. "You mean about having kids?" He nodded. She leaned back, arms crossed defiantly. "What if I never want to have kids? Can I just ignore them forever?" His fingers stilled momentarily over the keyboard, and after a few seconds, he replied coolly, "Do whatever you want." Catherine smirked. "So respectful of my choices. What if I decided to have a baby right now? Would you be all in?" She knew she was poking the bear—Gregory didn't truly respect her whims; he just wasn't interested either. It was a playful jab, a habit of hers to tease. Sure enough, the playful banter shifted the mood. Gregory's expression hardened, like he was searching for the right words but couldn't find them. For a fleeting moment, she regretted her quip. She remembered how intimidating he used to be. Always with that poker face, calm and unreadable. The only time she witnessed a crack in that facade was on her eighteenth birthday when they woke up together, entwined in bed, bare and vulnerable. That morning, he looked far more interesting—his handsome face flushed, caught between embarrassment and anger. Amidst her panic, she couldn’t help but think how amusing it was to see him blush. “Hey, I was just joking,” she laughed, breaking the tension. “We’re still young, and with our, uh, relationship, having a kid too soon would just complicate things.” Gregory met her gaze, his eyes serious. “What exactly is our relationship?” “Um… let’s say it’s mutually beneficial.” She adjusted her hair, attempting to lighten the mood. “We’re both kind of trapped here. As long as we fulfill our roles, it’s fine, right?” Sure, marriage was never part of their initial plan, but in a family like theirs, how many unions were built on sincerity? Freedom within the confines of matrimony—stability and respect—was a rare gift. “Doctor,” she added. “Yeah,” Gregory replied, his voice flat as he awaited her next move. “If you ever find someone you really like, you need to tell me.” He paused. Catherine continued, “But I mean, not like super duper in love or anything. We both know if we divorced, it would be a fiasco with our families. So, a low-key type of relationship is cool, just don’t expect I’ll be making any changes.” Gregory’s face darkened. “You might want to reflect on that statement.” Catherine blinked innocently. “Oh, of course.” — Afterward, Catherine headed to the master bedroom while Gregory remained in the living room, engrossed in work. Bored, she grabbed her phone and opened her Twitter. Her username was simply Catherine, the same she used in her comic artist circles. With a following of five million, she was a well-known figure in that world. Besides submitting illustrations to several magazines, she frequently posted serialized comics that garnered a lot of attention. No one in her family acknowledged her passion, but that didn’t matter. It was her escape, while she plotted her own empire at Hawthorne Enterprises. Family feuds over wealth and power were just a part of life in households like hers. A notification pinged, pulling her from her thoughts. Beatrice Wesley had messaged her. 【Hey, Catherine! Just got back from the States. Let’s meet up at the bar tomorrow night! Don’t flake!】 Catherine replied, rolling her eyes. 【You finished your business trip that fast?】 Beatrice responded with a slew of laughing emojis. 【It was just a formality. My dad wanted me to see the world, but it’s not like I had to do anything serious.】 Catherine quipped back, 【Must be nice being the only child.】 【Well, your family is probably just as chaotic. What’s going on, did they stir up trouble again?】 Catherine snorted. 【Just flexing their age and authority.】 Beatrice reassured her, 【Don't worry about it. At least your mom is in your corner. My siblings don’t even have that.】 Catherine sighed, 【Yeah, but my dad is super biased toward his late wife's kids. Sometimes I wonder if I’m even his real daughter.】 Beatrice sent more laughing emojis. 【Don’t stress. Let's meet up; I’ll give you some advice.】 Catherine typed back, 【Sounds good. Same place, right? See you there!】 — The next morning, Catherine woke up early to prepare for work. As she ventured out, she noticed Gregory already in the kitchen. “Breakfast?” she brightened, spotting toast on the counter. “Gregory, did you make this?” He plated the toasted bread with a calm demeanor. “If you’re hungry, grab a seat.” Having a “roommate” like him had its perks—especially breakfast. “Sure thing!” She plopped down at the table, slathering jam on her toast. “What got you up so early? Don’t you have a shift at the hospital?” “Just a habit,” he replied, entirely composed. Catherine took a bite and nodded, appreciating the taste. Suddenly, her phone buzzed with an incoming call. Because she was in the middle of breakfast, she glanced at the caller ID and hit speaker. “Yo, what’s up this early?” a familiar male voice chimed in. “Just got a message from Beatrice about hitting the bar,” she said, her mouth half-full. “Seems like everyone’s back—time to let loose for a bit.” Gregory glanced her way, but his focus quickly shifted back to his meal. “Cool, I’ll catch some Zs then meet up later,” he said before disconnecting. “Great!” Just as she was about to end the call, her friend asked, “Heard Gregory Brightwood’s back.” Catherine shot a quick glance at Gregory, a grin spreading across her face. “Yep!” “Oh man, that’s sad. All that eye candy gone just for you!” Gregory placed his fork down with a soft clink. “Catherine,” he said coolly. “Yeah?” “Eat your breakfast without taking a phone call.” Before she even realized it, she hung up abruptly, feeling slightly sheepish. “… Right. Got it.”
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