It was as if they would never see each other again.

In that moment, Andrew Lane reverted to his impeccably professional, almost robotic self-utterly composed, his emotions sealed away. He glanced coolly at Emily Blair, his eyes revealing nothing, then turned away with practiced detachment.

He walked off, his gaze growing colder.

Knowing when to stop had always been his principle.

If Emily Blair had made her choice, he would respect it.

Emily watched Andrew's retreating figure and finally, slowly, let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

There was no time to dwell on it. The security agent began urging her along. “Ma'am, please hurry-boarding is about to close."

Emma George nodded quickly, grabbing Emily's hand. "It's over, Emily. Come on,

let's go."

Emily pressed her lips together, nodded, and picked up her bag, stepping into the walkway.

Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks.

Elizabeth Wilson asked quietly, "Are you alright?"

"Did you forget something?" Emma chimed in, glancing at her.

Emily shook her head.

People in the terminal were starting to watch her. She quickly slipped her SIM card out of her phone.

Elizabeth caught the motion, her lips parting in understanding—she already knew what Emily intended to do.

With a decisive snap, Emily broke the SIM card in half and calmly tossed the pieces into a nearby trash bin.

Emma stared in surprise. "Emily, why did you throw your SIM card away?"

Emily didn't pause. She started walking again, her voice cool. "It's fine. I'll get a new one when we arrive. I don't need this one anymore."

As the plane lifted off, it felt as if everything was abruptly suspended-love, hate, all the tangled history left behind, separated now by miles of sky and a blur of taxis and flights. It was a real, final goodbye; old wounds faded into invisible scars, numb and distant.

It looked like morning had finally broken.

But only Emily knew—it was just a temporary dawn.

One day, she would return.

If not for herself, then for the sake of the daughter she'd lost in another life-she would come back, and settle the score.

When Andrew Lane arrived at his apartment, the sky was already growing pale with the coming day. It was half past five in the morning.

Isabella Austin had been up all night, sitting alone in the living room.

The lights were still on. The moment Andrew stepped inside, he saw her curled up on the couch.

She was wrapped in a thin nightgown, and the sight made Andrew frown instinctively. He crossed the room in his socks, picked up a lightweight blanket, and draped it over Isabella's shoulders, his voice low and gentle. "Why aren't you in bed?"

Isabella looked pale, her eyes fixed on him.

"Andrew..."

He adjusted the blanket around her with care and answered with a quiet hum.

Suddenly, Isabella reached out, wrapping her arms tightly around Andrew's waist, burying her face against his chest, her voice muffled.

"I waited for you all night, Andrew. I kept waiting...”

He placed a hand firmly on her shoulder, holding her close. "I'm here now," he murmured.

She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with vulnerability. "Good. I just wanted you to come home."

His gaze softened for a moment as he noticed the dark circles under her eyes. He gently nudged her shoulder. “You should get some rest.”

But Isabella clung to his hand. "I want you to stay with me. Just for a while."

Despite a sleepless night, Andrew's years of disciplined routine had him awake by eight.

When he opened his eyes, his neck ached and he rubbed it irritably, a trace of morning grumpiness creasing his brow.