I knelt at the memorial hall, numbly thanking the guests with my father’s students.

"Child, my condolences," said Uncle Harvey, a longtime friend of my father's, as he comforted me with a sigh.

"Thank you, Uncle Harvey."

It had been three days since my father passed away. Upon hearing the news, my father’s fellow disciples hurried to help, understanding my fragile state and taking charge of the funeral arrangements.

My father had made significant contributions to medicine as a professor and dean, treating many patients. Besides his close friends, patients who had benefited from his care came to pay their last respects.

We had chosen a large venue for the ceremony, and his fellow disciples stayed by my side, helping me thank the guests as family.

This should have been Aubrey’s responsibility.

As I stood up, my legs felt weak, but fortunately, someone nearby supported me.

"Be careful."

"Thank you," I murmured to Frederick Jensen, feeling a surge of guilt as I noticed the dark circles under his eyes.

He was my father’s favorite student, but due to his natural aversion to blood, he couldn't perform surgeries. Though it was a pity, my father still taught him as much as he could. Eventually, Frederick took up a position at his alma mater, continuing his research.

After my father’s accident, Frederick was the first to come to my side, staying with me through the entire ordeal. He kept urging me to rest while he barely slept.

I had called Aubrey dozens of times, hoping he would return to support me, but he didn’t answer. No response, no shutdown—just a dismissive attitude.

"Where is Aubrey?" Uncle Harvey scanned the hall.

I didn’t reply. Just then, Director Curtis stepped in and said quickly, "Dr. Ramos is still out on a rural medical mission."

Uncle Harvey sighed, "I'm too old to understand your younger generation. All I know is that Mr. Jenner treated him like a son. Even if it's a heavy mourning, he should be here."

He shook his head as he spoke.

Director Curtis could only offer an awkward smile, explaining that the signal was poor in the countryside and that they were trying to notify him.

I forced a bitter smile.

My father had gone to great lengths to pave the way for Aubrey. Getting Aubrey into the hospital was a favor my father had arranged through personal connections. Even the papers Aubrey needed for his promotion were edited late into the night by my father.

And yet, I received nothing but indifference in return.

As night fell and all the guests had left, Frederick urged me to rest while he saw off the fellow disciples who had come to help.

I sat on the floor against the wall, pulling out my phone that hadn’t been used all day. The cracked screen held up stubbornly.

It was filled with messages of condolences.

But there was nothing from Aubrey—no messages, no calls.

Suddenly, a notification flashed on Twitter. It was from someone I followed.

I rarely used Twitter and had only followed a few accounts.

By chance, I opened it to find a post from Wynne.

The first picture was of the night sky. The second photo showed two pairs of feet side by side. One of the shoes was familiar to me—it was a pair of hiking boots I had bought for Aubrey.

During his first rural visit, he hadn't anticipated the remote area he was heading to. He wore dress shoes that fell apart within a day. He called me, joking about how living in the city had made him forget what the countryside was like.

The next day, I bought him those hiking boots.

I buried my face in my knees, suppressing the sob that was about to escape. I couldn’t let my father worry about me from beyond.