“Ian Mitchell.” She heard her own voice, low and small, as pitiful as the whimper of a little animal. “Do you still want me?”

Did she know what she was saying?! Ian Mitchell could only whip around and glare at her, his expression as if he’d seen a ghost. Her voice was so soft and light, but on such a quiet night, how could he possibly not understand? He struggled to regain a shred of rationality, trying to pull his sleeve back, but her hand stubbornly held on.

That familiar stubbornness—Ian Mitchell found himself shamefully nostalgic for it.

“Let go.”

Maybe his voice was too harsh, because her hand actually trembled, and then, finger by finger, she slowly released him.

She lowered her head; Ian Mitchell couldn’t see her expression, but in his mind, he pictured her aggrieved and sad face at this moment.

Every expression was vividly clear in his memory, so clear that he felt his heart would soften in the next second.

If he didn’t ignore her now, Ian Mitchell would lose all control. He walked straight out onto the balcony; the cold night wind sobered him up a lot. She had always had the ability to throw his life into chaos—before, and even more so now. That was why he had to stay calm, or he’d be utterly defeated.

He walked back into the living room. She was still standing outside the door, shrinking into herself. “Come in.” His voice was calm again. “Do you want something to drink? I only have beer and bottled water.” He remembered she used to love those colorful drinks.

Mason Scott shook her head.

Ian Mitchell didn’t insist. He sat down on the sofa, every bit the host entertaining a guest: “What brings you here?”

Mason Scott hadn’t expected him to be so polite and distant, and was at a loss: “I—I went to the hospital today, the doctor said you’d already been discharged…”

“If you’re here to visit a patient, then you can leave now.” Ian Mitchell cut her off.

Mason Scott was speechless.

Ian Mitchell looked at her, a hint of sarcasm in his voice: “If I didn’t mishear just now, it seems you want to have an affair, and I’m honored to be the one you’ve chosen…” He stopped, but Mason Scott knew exactly what he meant. Her face turned pale in an instant. She finally understood how much words could hurt. Embarrassed, she could only squeeze out a few words: “I didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” Ian Mitchell fixed her with a pressing gaze. “You mean you’re not married? That was just an excuse to keep me away?”

Though it was phrased as a question, he sounded almost certain. His suspicion had grounds—he knew she’d always lived alone, she’d even gone on blind dates…

If that was the case, a faint bitterness rose in Ian Mitchell’s heart. So it was just an excuse to keep him away. But still, a subtle joy kept bubbling up from deep inside.

But Mason Scott didn’t give him the answer he hoped for. Her uneasy gaze shifted away.

She didn’t need to say it; Ian Mitchell understood completely. All his rationality and calmness flew out the window, replaced by anger and humiliation.

Ian Mitchell, how much longer are you going to play the part of this pathetic clown?

“Fine, tell me what you want me to be. Your secret lover in China, or your shameful affair? Mason Morgan, let me tell you, don’t even think about it!” He had to struggle to keep himself from grabbing her by the throat.

“No… I… he and I…” Mason Scott was frightened by his fury, her words stumbling and incoherent. There was no way to explain what happened between her and Hugh Wilson in just a few sentences. In her panic, the only thing she could think to say was, “I’m divorced.” She blurted it out, and it actually made her a bit calmer. She unconsciously repeated, “I’m divorced.”

Divorced? Ian Mitchell’s face grew even colder. In his rage, he let out a laugh. “What makes you think that I, Ian Mitchell, would want a woman who’s been divorced?”

Mason Scott froze, her eyes gradually dimming, her shoulders slumping. She’d expected this, hadn’t she? So why come here at all, just to let her already dead heart die again? How ridiculous to gamble everything on a few lines of poetry, on a single photograph!

But she still wanted him to know. “It wasn’t like that between him and me…” Mason Scott tried in vain to explain.

“Enough!” Ian Mitchell cut her off, unable to bear it any longer. “You don’t need to tell me about you and your ex-husband. If you’re looking for sympathy or comfort, you’ve come to the wrong person.”

Her lips moved, but in the end, she said nothing more. Whether she spoke or not, did it really make any difference? The facts couldn’t be changed.

“I’m leaving.” Mason Scott stood up, not looking at him, her voice trembling. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

He didn’t stop her, as if lost in some unsolvable puzzle.

She opened the door, but heard him say behind her, “Wait.”

She turned around. He stood up from the sofa and picked up the car keys from the table. “I’ll drive you home.”

Mason Scott was stunned for a moment, then shook her head. “No need, I can go by myself.”

“You certainly can,” Ian Mitchell said mockingly. “And if something happens to you by accident, I’ll be the prime suspect. Then we’ll really be tangled up for good.”

Are all lawyers this meticulous? Mason Scott managed to force out a few words with great difficulty: “Sorry to trouble you.”

“This is the last time in this life.” Ian Mitchell said coldly.

Mason Scott had never ridden in such a fast car before. The driver looked perfectly calm, but the speed was terrifying. By the time the car finally stopped, she was pale and weak, while Ian Mitchell looked as composed as if he’d just taken a stroll.

“Give me a reason.” He stared straight ahead.

She looked at his indifferent profile, her stomach churning so much she couldn’t even think about what he meant.

“Tell me you love me.”

Mason Scott froze, then suddenly choked up. “Ian Mitchell, I…”

“That’s enough!” He suddenly interrupted her harshly. “Don’t say it!”

She looked at his unpredictable expression, at a loss.

After a while, he said, “You can go. I’ll give you an answer tomorrow.”

Maybe it was the carsickness, but she slept poorly that night. In the early morning, half-awake, her phone rang, and she answered almost immediately.

“Hello.”

“I’m downstairs. Bring your ID and come down.”

He hung up as soon as he finished. Mason Scott didn’t even have a chance to ask anything. She grabbed her things and hurried downstairs. Ian Mitchell’s car was parked across the street. Mason Scott hesitated for a moment, then opened the door and got in.

“Did you bring your ID?”

“I did.” Mason Scott was a bit confused. “Why do I need my ID?”

“We’re going to the Civil Affairs Bureau,” Ian Mitchell said blandly.

“Civil Affairs Bureau?” Mason Scott had a vague idea, but didn’t quite understand.

“Yes.” Ian Mitchell spoke as if it had nothing to do with him. “We’re going to register for marriage.”

Marriage?! Mason Scott stared at him in shock, wondering if she’d misheard. “Ian Mitchell…”

“If you don’t want to go, get out of the car.” Ian Mitchell didn’t even look at her as he threw out the words.

She looked at his resolute expression and suddenly understood. He was forcing her, and himself. No matter the outcome, he wanted closure, leaving no room for regret. If she got out of the car now, there would truly be no future for them.

Mason Scott took a deep breath. “I’ll go.”

“Are you sure?”

Mason Scott nodded. Now that everything was decided, she was calm instead. “Do you remember what you once said? If you’re destined to be my husband, why shouldn’t I exercise my rights a little earlier?”

He turned his head away, his voice cold and hard. “And as it turns out, that kind of thinking only leads to mistakes. Are you really going to make the same one again?”

Mason Scott’s eyes dimmed. “Just drive.”

There were already several couples waiting at the Civil Affairs Bureau, all of them sweet and affectionate, except for her and Ian Mitchell, who stood stiffly to one side like two statues, drawing frequent glances from others.

The round-faced woman sitting next to Mason Scott had been watching them for a while. Mason Scott felt a bit embarrassed under her gaze and smiled politely. The woman smiled back and took the opportunity to strike up a conversation: “Are you here to register too?”

Ha! What a question. Mason Scott nodded.

She glanced at Ian Mitchell, then said enviously, “Your husband is really handsome.”

“Hey, hey, hey.” The petite young man beside her immediately protested, pulling her over. “Your even more handsome husband is right here!”

“Is he?” The round-faced woman looked skeptical, then suddenly pointed at the sky outside. “Ah! Look, look! Why are there so many cows flying around in the sky?”

Her husband immediately played along: “Because your husband is here blowing so hard.”

Mason Scott couldn’t help but laugh. Their happiness was so obvious, it was practically overflowing. If only… She glanced at Ian Mitchell beside her. He was looking out the window, expressionless.

“Hey, how did you two meet?” the round-faced woman asked, clearly curious about them.

How did they meet? “It was a long time ago,” Mason Scott replied, not wanting to brush off her enthusiasm. She recalled, “Back then, I’d just started college. I liked photography and always carried my camera everywhere. One time, I saw him standing under a tree, lost in thought. Without realizing it, I pressed the shutter, and he caught me…”

“I’m going out for a bit.”

Ian Mitchell suddenly stood up, cutting her off, and walked straight out without waiting for her to say anything.