When Aubrey came back, I was organizing some photos.

Last year, my father had accompanied me on a trip, and we had taken many pictures that I never got around to printing. Now, I was using the printer to bring them to life, carefully laminating each one.

“Bailee.” Aubrey walked in, the scent of earth clinging to him.

Instinctively, I glanced at his shoes—they were exactly the same as the ones in last night’s photo.

I continued sorting the photos, saying nothing.

Aubrey dropped his backpack and came over, kneeling in front of me, reaching out to take my hand.

I shifted away.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know what happened to Prof. Jenner.”

Aubrey always called him “Prof. Jenner,” even after we got married. I used to think it was a sign of respect for my father.

Now that I think about it, maybe he didn’t want too many people to know about our relationship.

I looked up at him, my face devoid of emotion. “I called you.”

Aubrey hung his head. “I’m sorry, I… I thought you were lying to keep me from going out. I didn’t know you were telling the truth.”

I wanted to laugh but instead felt a strange sadness.

Aubrey had ditched me for Wynne more than once. There was one time he planned to go to a party with her, and I pretended to be sick to stop him. When he found out, he scolded me harshly, accusing me of lacking professional ethics as a doctor.

“So, in your eyes, I’m the kind of person who would use my father’s life to deceive you,” I said, mocking myself.

“It’s my fault. I misunderstood you,” Aubrey apologized, gripping my hand.

At that moment, the doorbell rang.

Aubrey stood up. “We’ll talk more about this later.”

He opened the door, and I heard Wynne’s voice.

“You left your clothes in my bag. Good thing I noticed and brought them back.”

I walked to the entrance.

Wynne was chatting cheerfully with Aubrey, but her smile faded when she saw me.

"Bailey, don’t misunderstand," Wynne quickly explained. "The conditions in the countryside were poor, so we had to wash our clothes together."

"I heard about Prof. Jenner. I’m sorry for your loss. It’s such a terrible thing to happen, just bad luck for him."

"You have no right to talk about my father." I stared coldly at Wynne.

"Bailey, Wynne meant well. How could you say that?" Aubrey looked at me disapprovingly.

Wynne quickly tugged at his arm. "Let it go, Bailey’s upset. She didn’t mean it."

Watching them tugging at each other, I sneered, "It seems you know my husband better than I do. No wonder—old flames die hard, right?"

Both Aubrey and Wynne's faces changed.

Wynne hurried to explain, "You’re overthinking it. Aubrey and I are just friends now."

"Friends who answer each other’s phones?" I asked, my gaze icy.

"Bailey, Wynne and I were representing the hospital on a medical mission. Don’t be so narrow-minded," Aubrey shot back.

I wasn’t angry. Instead, I calmly responded, "Yes, while my father was fighting for his life, you two were having a chat."

Aubrey stayed silent, but I didn’t let him off the hook. In a cold voice, I asked, "Aubrey, how does it feel to abandon your professor who shaped your entire career?"

"Bailey, you’ve got it all wrong. Aubri really couldn’t come at that moment," Wynne jumped in, defending him before he could say anything.

"Too busy chatting with you?" I mercilessly exposed Wynne's facade.

Aubrey grabbed Wynne’s arm and began to pull her towards the door. "Enough, she won’t listen."

Wynne looked back at me with a helpless expression.

I leaned against the wall, drained.