When His Love No Longer Mattered

Ever since I saw that unsent Instagram draft on River's phone, I changed completely.

When he worked night shifts, I stopped waiting up.

When his clothes carried unfamiliar perfume, I stopped asking questions.

When he explained that running into his first love was just a coincidence, I said flatly, "I believe you."

In the car accident, he instinctively shielded Clara in the passenger seat. I was in the back, my face covered in blood from the impact.

At the gallery, he threw himself toward Clara without a second thought. I stood there, cut by shattered glass, no one caring.

At the fire scene, he rushed in recklessly to save her. I stood outside and took off the engagement ring he'd just placed on my finger.

I left a breakup note on the coffee table, flew to Africa, and disappeared into the crowd.

Three months later, he tracked me down to the savannah like a madman, his eyes red. "Winona, you're the one I actually love."

I looked at him and smiled. "River, I don't care anymore."

Winona's POV

Ever since I saw that unsent Instagram draft on River's phone, I became a completely different person.

When he worked night shifts until dawn, there was no longer a light waiting for him at home.

When he spent over ten hours straight in the operating room, I stopped texting to ask if he was tired.

When his shirts occasionally carried traces of unfamiliar perfume, I stopped asking about it.

Even when acute gastroenteritis struck me in the middle of the night and I dragged myself to the ER alone, when the nurse quietly asked, "No family member with you?"

I simply said, "I don't have any family."

The nurse looked down at her computer, then glanced at me again. "You're... the director's girlfriend, right? I saw you at the hospital gala last time. The director is working the night shift tonight, just upstairs. Should I call him?"

River was the youngest director this hospital had ever had. I hadn't expected to be recognized.

"No need," I closed my eyes. "Don't disturb him at work."

The nurse seemed like she wanted to say something but ultimately just arranged for me to stay in the observation room.

Half an hour later, the observation room door swung open.

River walked in wearing his crisp white coat, his palm habitually pressing against my forehead, his brow furrowing slightly. "Why didn't you just call me when you got sick?"

His palm was warm, with that familiar touch.

In the past, even with just a mild headache, that warmth would have been enough to help me sleep peacefully.

I turned my head away, avoiding his touch. "It's just acute gastroenteritis. Some IV fluids and I'll be fine. It's not a big deal."

River's hand froze in midair.

He wanted to say something, but conversation from the hallway interrupted him, growing closer.

"The director really cares about that Miss Clara in the VIP room... It's just an appendectomy, but he personally performed the surgery, and he visits her every single day after, staying for ages."

"I heard that Miss Clara is the director's professor's daughter, and they used to date?"

"No wonder the director treats her so specially. It's already eleven at night, and didn't the director just go up to see her again?"

The voices faded with the footsteps, leaving an awkward silence.

River's expression changed.

"Don't pay attention to that gossip," he said, almost reflexively. "Clara is my professor's daughter. Before he died, he asked me to look after her. She has no family in this city. As her doctor, it's my responsibility to take extra care of her."

"Mm."

I acknowledged with a sound and said nothing more.

This response somehow irritated River. "You don't believe me?"

"I believe you." I turned to look at him. "You've always been a responsible doctor. It's right to take care of your patients."

River froze, suddenly at a loss for words.

In the past, he always found my insecurity annoying and would explain impatiently, "Clara and I are ancient history. Now I only see her as my professor's daughter. Can you stop being so sensitive?"

Now I'd finally become what he wanted-not sensitive, not questioning, not angry.

His frown deepened. He was about to speak when a soft thud came from outside the door.

Clara stood in the doorway, leaning on an IV pole, her face pale as paper, the hem of her hospital gown stained with red from blood backing up into the IV line.

"River..." She bit her lip, her voice weak. "I heard from the nurse that Miss Winona was hospitalized too..."

"Why are you out of bed?" River rushed over to support her, his tone both reproachful and concerned. "Didn't I tell you that you must stay in bed and rest?"

Clara leaned weakly against him. "I was worried about Miss Winona. I wanted to come see her..."

River sighed helplessly, scooped Clara up in his arms, and said to me over his shoulder, "I'll take her back to her room first. I'll be right back to stay with you."

His silhouette carrying Clara disappeared into the white light at the end of the hallway.

I stared at the needle in the back of my hand, remembering River's unsent Instagram post.

The caption read: "Being by your side feels like going back to the past."

In that moment, I woke up as if from a dream. I finally understood. Deep in River's heart, he had never truly let go of Clara.

I suppressed the sharp pain in my chest, picked up my phone, and opened the unread email.

I replied, "I have carefully read the email and am willing to accept this three-year photography expedition to Africa."

Winona's POV

By the time the IV finished, the sky was already showing its first light.

River never returned.

I called the nurse myself, had the needle removed, declined the suggestion to stay for observation, and walked alone through the empty hallways.

The smell of disinfectant filled my nostrils, and I suddenly remembered many years ago, also at a hospital, also on a cold morning like this.

Back then, I was accompanying my mother for chemotherapy.

After my mother fell asleep, I crouched in the stairwell, completely breaking down, not daring to make a sound, burying my face in my knees, my shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

Suddenly, a pair of clean, slender fingers handed me a pack of tissues.

I looked up and saw River in his white coat. His features were refined and handsome, his expression gentle as he comforted me. "Don't cry. Your mother will get better."

The first time I met him, I remembered that voice and those beautiful eyes.

Later, when my mother passed away, I found a note under her pillow while sorting through her belongings. It had a phone number written on it, with a small line of text beside it: "If you need help, you can call this number. River."

I never called that number, but I carefully kept the note in the pocket of my wallet.

The second time I met him was at a gathering a friend organized.

River sat in the darkest corner of the booth, his white shirt unbuttoned at the top two buttons, gold-rimmed glasses resting on the table.

He drank alone, the surrounding commotion seemingly unrelated to him.

My friend pushed me over. "That's Dr. River. Like you, he's single. You two should have a good chat."

As I approached, River looked up.

The moment our eyes met, his gaze clearly wavered. "Have we met before?" he asked.

I took out that yellowed note from my wallet.

River stared at it for a long time, so long I thought he'd forgotten that first meeting, before I heard him say, "So it was you... You actually kept this note?"

"Yes." I replied softly. "Thank you for that."

That night he drove me home. In the car, he suddenly spoke. "Winona, want to be with me?"

My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would leap out of my chest.

But I held back the impulse and asked him, "Why... so sudden?"

"I just think you're a really good person." He paused. "And you like me, don't you?"

I did have different feelings for him because of that first meeting.

The note he left me had been a sliver of warm light in my darkest, saddest moments.

Only later did I learn that the reason he was drinking alone that night was because he'd just broken up not long before.

Clara had been the one to end it.

Simply because Clara was going abroad to further her studies and felt long-distance was too difficult, she broke up with him directly.

Clara left decisively, completely uncaring about River's humble attempts to salvage the relationship.

I wasn't unaware that when he started a new relationship at that time, it wasn't because he liked me that much, but because he wanted someone to help him move on from his dead-end romance with Clara.

But even so, I still agreed to be with him.

I always believed sincerity could be met with sincerity.

As long as I was good enough to him, loved him enough, eventually he would completely let go of Clara, with only me in his heart and eyes.

In reality, during the four years we'd been together, River was a competent boyfriend.

He remembered all my food aversions, remembered my monthly cycle, remembered my birthday and all our anniversaries. His gifts and restaurant reservations were always thoughtfully arranged.

My friends always envied me, saying thoughtful men like River were nearly impossible to find even with a lantern to light the way.

I also thought I'd truly entered his heart.

But a month ago, Clara suddenly returned to the country. A phone call came through, her voice tearful, saying her father was critically ill and she was alone at the hospital.

After that, everything changed.

Not only did he come home later and later after work, but his clothes always carried traces of unfamiliar perfume. Even in the middle of the night, when Clara dreamed of her deceased father and became sad, he'd grab a jacket and rush out.

Because of Clara, we started arguing frequently.

I felt like a paranoid, resentful woman. While despising myself, I couldn't help asking him again and again with red eyes, "After all these years, have you still not forgotten her?"

He grew increasingly impatient, blaming me for being sensitive and suspicious, saying he only took care of Clara to fulfill his professor's dying wish.

For a time, I thought maybe I really was being too sensitive and suspicious.

Until I accidentally saw that unsent draft post on his phone.

At that moment, my world completely shattered.

My heart felt like it was being cut with knives, unbearably painful, yet instead of fighting or making a scene, I completely gave up hope.

Winona's POV

When I got home, it was already full daylight.

The house was quiet, just as it had been when I left for the ER.

Suddenly, my phone rang.

"Is this Miss Winona?" A capable female voice came through. "Regarding the three-year ecological photography expedition to Africa, we need final confirmation. Have you really thought this through? The conditions in the African wilderness are extremely harsh, and you'll need to be away from family and friends for an extended period."

I gripped my phone. "I've thought it through."

"Alright, we'll handle the visa on our end. We just need you to provide some documents. The departure date is set for the fifth of next month. Is that okay with you?"

The fifth of next month-two weeks from now.

I responded, "No problem."

After ending the call, I looked around every corner of the house.

I'd decorated this home bit by bit.

When I moved in four years ago, it was empty with only the most basic furniture.

I spent so much effort choosing curtain colors, selecting sofa styles, filling the balcony with plants, hanging my photography work on the walls.

I used to think this would be my forever home with River, that we'd live here together for a very long time.

But now, soon I'd be leaving forever.

I pulled out my suitcase and was halfway through packing when the door opened.

River stood in the doorway. Seeing my open suitcase, he froze. "What are you... doing?"

I paused. "Nothing much. Just felt like the house had too much stuff. It's been a while since I did a clean-out, so I'm throwing away things I don't use or need anymore."

He was about to ask more when his phone suddenly rang.

It was a special ringtone.

His expression shifted slightly. He picked up his phone and walked to the balcony to answer.

"Just got home. What's wrong?"

I continued organizing my camera equipment, pretending not to hear.

From the balcony, River's lowered voice came in fragments.

"The wound hurts? Is it infected... Don't worry, I'll come check on you right away... Okay, I know, just lie down and don't move..."

After the call ended, River walked back, his expression somewhat complicated.

I'd already finished cleaning my last lens and was carefully placing them into specially protected cases.

I looked up with a smile. "What's wrong? Something at the hospital?"

"It's Clara..." River hesitated. "She said her wound suddenly hurts a lot. It might be infected. I need to go check on her."

I looked at him and suddenly felt like such a failure.

Four years-over a thousand days and nights of companionship and devotion-couldn't earn a man's wholehearted love.

I nodded. "Then go quickly. Wound infection is no small matter. You can't delay."

"Winona, I..."

"Go on." I'd already stood up, zipping up my camera case. "Miss Clara needs you most right now. Don't keep her waiting."

In the past, if I heard he was going to see Clara, I would definitely have asked with red-rimmed eyes, "You just came back from the hospital. There are other doctors. Do you really need to go?"

But now, I just smiled and even reminded him not to keep Clara waiting.

"I'll be back as soon as possible." River nodded. "Let's have lunch together, okay? At that new Japanese restaurant you've been wanting to try."

I smiled. "Sure. But if you get held up there, it's fine. I can take care of myself."

River opened his mouth to say something but ultimately said nothing, turning and leaving the bedroom.

I stood there, listening to the sound of the car engine starting and gradually fading away.

Then I continued packing.

Winona's POV

At noon, River didn't come back. I received a text from him.

"Clara's wound is indeed a bit infected and needs treatment. I might be late getting back. Eat lunch yourself, don't wait for me."

I looked at that text, my finger hovering over the screen for a few seconds, then I turned off the screen without replying.

The day Clara was discharged happened to be my birthday.

River had mentioned it to me a few days in advance.

"Clara just lost her father not long ago, and she doesn't have any relatives or friends here. I want to throw her a birthday party, to lift her spirits and improve her mood."

I was organizing my equipment list for the Africa trip. Without looking up, I said, "Sure, do you need me to help arrange it?"

River paused. He'd expected me to be unhappy. "You don't mind?" he asked tentatively.

"Mind what?" I looked up. "Throwing a party for a friend is perfectly normal. Besides, Miss Clara's had it pretty rough-her father just died, and she had surgery and was hospitalized herself."

He didn't let me help arrange the birthday party.

On the day itself, everyone who attended were old classmates Clara and River had in common.

As River's girlfriend, I was naturally on the invitation list too.

After too much drinking, the atmosphere grew lively.

"I'm just saying," a tipsy guy stood up with his glass, "our director and Miss Clara were the best couple at medical school back in the day! I want to see them drink while gazing into each other's eyes!"

The private room instantly erupted with jeering.

River frowned. "Stop it. Winona's here."

"What about Winona?" another girl chimed in. "Winona's super chill! Right, Winona?"

Everyone looked at me.

I said casually, "Go ahead and play. It's a birthday-having fun is what matters most."

Amid the jeering, River and Clara picked up their glasses.

The two stood very close, close enough to smell each other's breath.

Clara's face was flushed, her eyes bright as she looked at River, while River's expression was complicated, his gaze involuntarily drifting toward me.

I held up my phone, taking photos.

After they finished drinking, the room filled with applause and whistles.

River set down his glass, his first reaction to look at me.

I'd already put away my phone and was chatting with someone nearby.

"Winona..." River walked to my side, lowering his voice. "Just now..."

"The photos came out really well."

I turned my phone screen toward him, showing the photo I'd just taken, the image frozen on the moment River and Clara drank their crossed toast.

"Look, the lighting and composition are both good. Miss Clara's white dress photographs beautifully."

River was speechless.

Halfway through the party, I got up to use the restroom.

Coming out of the restroom, I ran into Clara in the hallway.

"Miss Winona." Clara stopped me, an apologetic look on her face. "About earlier... I'm sorry. Everyone was just playing around. Please don't take it to heart."

I turned to look at her. "Why would I take it to heart?"

Clara was caught off guard, pausing before saying, "I mean... River and I really are just friends. Please don't misunderstand..."

"I haven't misunderstood." I smiled. "You're friends, old acquaintances, each other's youthful memories. I know all that."

I turned to leave.

"Wait!" Clara suddenly called out.

I stopped but didn't turn around.

"He has a hidden album on his phone. The password is my birthday. It contains all our memories." Clara's voice carried a hint of triumph. "Winona, you've been with him for four years. Has he ever created a dedicated album just for you?"

My body stiffened.

But I didn't turn around. "So what?"

"So..." Clara walked in front of me, looking at me. "So he's never forgotten me. Winona, these four years, you've just been keeping him company in my place."

Winona's POV

I laughed. "Miss Clara, we're all adults. There's no need to play these games. If you want him, go fight for him. You don't need to come show off to me about how special you are to him."

Leaving Clara with an ugly expression, I walked away.

When I returned to the private room, River was looking for me. "Where did you go? You were gone so long."

"I ran into Miss Clara and we chatted for a bit."

I sat down and took a sip from my glass.

River frowned. "What did you talk about?"

"Nothing much." I smiled. "She just told me you have a hidden album on your phone, and the password is her birthday."

A flash of unease crossed River's eyes. "Winona, let me explain..."

"No need to explain." I interrupted him. "That's your privacy. I respect that."

River stared at me.

"Winona, something's really off with you." River grabbed his coat. "Come on, let's go home and have a proper talk!"

"But the birthday party isn't over yet..."

"Let's go!"

He pulled me up without allowing any argument, said goodbye to everyone, and left the private room.

As soon as we got in the car, someone knocked on the window.

River lowered the window. Clara stood outside, her long hair gently lifting in the night breeze.

She bit her lip. "Everyone's left. I can't get a ride. Could you give me a lift?"

Before River could speak, I'd already pushed open the car door. "Of course. Miss Clara, sit in the front. The view's better."

Clara froze, the words she'd prepared stuck in her throat.

She looked at me, confusion flashing in her eyes, but still got into the passenger seat.

The car drove through the night. Clara kept talking, reminiscing about college days, reminiscing about all the little moments with River.

River occasionally responded with a word or two, mostly staying silent.

She continued with melancholy, "Sometimes I really regret it. If only I hadn't gone abroad back then..."

"It's all in the past." River cut her off.

The car fell into brief silence.

Just then, a car suddenly shot out from a side road.

River jerked the steering wheel and slammed the brakes. The car spun out of control and crashed into the roadside barrier.

In the tremendous momentum, River instinctively reached out to shield Clara in the passenger seat.

In the back seat, I was violently thrown forward, my forehead slamming hard into the back of the front seat.

Intense pain struck, and warm liquid flowed down from my temple.

"Winona!" River turned to see my face covered in blood, his face instantly turning deathly pale. "Are you okay?"

I wiped the blood blurring my vision with the back of my hand. "I'm fine... Take Miss Clara first."

"You're like this and you still..."

"I'm really fine. I can take a taxi to the hospital myself. Miss Clara was frightened. You should take her home to rest quickly."

With that, I pushed open the car door, walked to the roadside, hailed a taxi, and left without looking back.

After I finished getting my wound treated and left, I returned home and leaned on the sofa.

River pushed through the door and rushed over, crouching in front of me. "Why did you leave alone? Do you know how worried I was?"

I opened my eyes. "Weren't you supposed to take care of Miss Clara? Her father just died, she's emotionally unstable-she needs you more."

"Winona!" River finally couldn't hold back. He grabbed my hand. "What's been going on with you lately? Is it because Clara came back and you're uncomfortable? I've told you, she and I..."

"I know." I pulled my hand back. "You're ancient history. You're taking care of her only because her father just died and she has no family in this city. I understand all of it."

"Then why are you..."

"River," I looked at him and suddenly smiled, "do you remember how I used to get upset when you spent time with Clara, and you'd always say I was too sensitive, too unreasonable?"

River froze.

"Now I'm reasonable, not sensitive, not upset." I shrugged. "Isn't this what you always wanted?"

Winona's POV

I stood up. "I'm not feeling well. I'm going to bed."

As I turned, he suddenly grabbed my wrist. "Winona, you're not going to leave me, are you?"

I hadn't expected him to notice so keenly.

Since he'd guessed, I might as well be honest-we could part on good terms.

But then River locked his gaze on me intensely. "We've been together for four years. By now we're both used to each other's presence. You won't leave me, right?"

So he was anxious about me leaving only because he'd grown accustomed to my presence.

I suddenly remembered that in all these years together, though River had been a competent boyfriend, he'd never once said the word "love" to me.

Thinking about it now, he never said "love" to me perhaps because the person he truly loved in his heart was someone else.

As for me, I was just a habit.

I smiled slightly. "You're right."

I had indeed grown accustomed to his presence too.

It was just a habit I could break.

Perhaps it was my recent abnormal behavior that made River especially uneasy. He actually took several days off and stayed home specifically to keep me company.

He personally cooked the dishes I liked, took me out to movies and shopping-everything seemed just like before.

Yet something had changed.

A couple days later, Clara called.

When the specially assigned ringtone sounded in the living room, I was watering plants on the balcony.

I heard River answer the phone, his tone unconsciously gentle. "Clara?"

My hand paused. Water flowed in a thin stream from the watering can's spout.

River hung up and came over. "Clara said a friend of hers is holding an art exhibition here, opening tomorrow. She got two extra tickets and wants to invite us both."

Before he spoke, I heard that he'd already agreed.

"Sounds good." I set down the watering can. "I haven't been to an exhibition in a long time anyway."

The next day, when River and I arrived at the exhibition venue, Clara, carefully made up, was already waiting at the entrance to the gallery.

"River! You're here!"

She hurried forward, very naturally reaching out to link her arm with River's.

River's body stiffened slightly, his peripheral vision glancing at me.

I'd already started walking inside.

Behind me, Clara's soft voice continued, "This exhibition is hosted by a friend of mine who just returned from France. Many of the works are really interesting..."

The gallery had soft lighting and sparse crowds.

"River, look at this one." Clara pointed at an oil painting depicting a seaside sunset. "Doesn't it look like that bay we went to for landscape painting in college?"

River followed her pointing finger, memories stirring, his expression somewhat dazed.

"Mm, it does look similar."

Clara wore a nostalgic expression. "Thinking back to that time, it was really wonderful. We did so many things together, went to so many interesting places..."

I had no interest in listening to them reminisce. I was quickly drawn to several works combining ecological photography with oil painting and slowed my pace.

"Watch out!"

The instant the cry rang out, a sharp snapping sound came from overhead, steel cables breaking.

I looked up and saw a massive suspended installation losing balance, toppling toward where they stood.

Everything happened too fast.

River didn't hesitate for even a second. He lunged toward Clara, wrapping her tightly in his arms as they both rolled toward a safe area.

I only had time to raise my arms to protect my head and face.

Shattered crystal fragments rained down. Sharp pieces sliced across my left shoulder, bringing piercing pain.

I staggered backward. My foot caught on something and I fell.

The back of my head slammed hard against the edge of a metal display stand. Intense pain came with instant darkness, warm liquid flowing from both my shoulder and the back of my head.

I lay on the cold floor, ears ringing, vision beginning to blur.

I used all my strength to turn my head slightly. Through the blood haze, I saw River helping Clara to her feet.

Blood seeped through his back, yet his first instinct was to check on Clara. His voice carried a panic I'd never heard before. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? Where are you injured?"

Clara leaned against him, pale, shaking her head gently.

So he really did love Clara.

Loved her so much that in a crisis, he'd instinctively save her first. Loved her so much that he'd ignore his own wounds. Loved her so much that he'd forget about me, his girlfriend of four years, and how badly I was hurt.

I tugged slightly at the corner of my lips, then lost consciousness as darkness swallowed everything.