Late Return, Gazing at Stars

Olivia’s hand went still, her fingers tightening unconsciously.

Yes. She and Carl had a child together.

At sixteen, she’d made the bravest decision of her life—running away from the group home with Carl, never looking back.

They took a train for over ten hours, arriving in this strange, sprawling city.

Life was lived at the very bottom. At their lowest, they squeezed into a shoebox apartment, splitting a single pack of instant noodles.

Four years later, having saved a decent sum from street vending, Carl started his own business.

But they hadn’t accounted for human treachery. Betrayed by a partner, he was left drowning in debt, wiped out overnight.

The pressure was suffocating. Carl would jolt awake in the dead of night, and Olivia would always find him on the balcony, the cherry of his cigarette burning a solitary red in the dark.

That was when Pamela, her closest friend, introduced her to an upscale nightclub.

Olivia was pretty, with a good figure. Hired as a cocktail waitress, she pulled in a shocking amount in tips her very first night.

If she could ease even a little of Carl’s burden, she thought, it would be enough.

Until one day, for fifteen hundred dollars, she drank the glass a customer handed her.

She woke up naked, pinned beneath a middle-aged, overweight man.

She struggled. She screamed. It was useless.

Afterward, the man threw a wad of cash in her face.

Fifty thousand. A full fifty grand.

She’d never imagined one night of hers could be worth that much.

But when she told Pamela, her friend said, “That’s a *good* thing! Fifty grand—there are plenty of women at the club who’d kill for that and never see half of it.”

“Isn’t Carl desperate for money right now? I heard the bank people came by again, pressing you. Honestly, if this works… maybe you should consider…”

Olivia’s heart dropped.

She thought of Carl these past days, tormented by debt collectors, barely sleeping. Slowly, her hands clenched into fists.

Pamela gently took her hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it secret. If you’re willing… I have some connections. I can help you…”

Olivia bit her lower lip until it bled, then gave a hard nod.

She was already ruined. What did it matter if she was defiled further?

As long as it helped Carl through this crisis, as long as he got what he wanted, she was willing.

And so, she began saving up. Bit by bit.

Ten thousand, twenty thousand…

She shattered herself, trading in the cheapest kind of allure, faking desire for one man after another.

Eventually, Carl found out.

The moment the door opened, she was pinned beneath a burly, middle-aged man.

Their eyes met. In Carl’s gaze, she saw disappointment, fury, agony, despair.

She knew there was no going back.

Facing Carl’s heart-wrenching accusations, Olivia laughed—a sharp, brittle sound, utterly devoid of warmth.

“What did you expect? You’re useless.”

“I’m done living hand-to-mouth because of you! Coming to Ashford showed me money really is everything.”

“Even love isn’t enough to make me suffer in some rented hole with you.”

“Now that you know, I’m done pretending. Let’s break up, Carl. I’m tired of being poor!”

Later, Carl really left.

Completely, utterly—vanishing from her world.

And Olivia? She let herself go completely, moving from one man’s bed to another.

It wasn’t until the day she discovered she was pregnant that she anonymously transferred all the money she’d earned over two months into Carl’s account.

For five years, Olivia prayed every single day.

She prayed Carl would achieve his dreams. A man like him, so talented, shouldn’t be buried by poverty.

Fortunately, he succeeded.

Five years later, he swaggered back into the city, fiancée in tow.

It was fine.

From now on, their lives would return to separate tracks. And this secret—she would bury it deep in her heart.

Until death.

Olivia fished her diagnosis report from her bag and dialed the number on it.

“Dr. Caleb, I’ve got the money for the transplant surgery. I’ll come to the hospital tomorrow to discuss the details?”

A pause on the other end.

“Actually, Ms. Olivia, I was just about to call you.”

“Half an hour ago, someone offered two million and bought the heart.”

“If you can bid higher, there might still be a chance…”

The world went dark before Olivia’s eyes.

“The one million I have… I nearly killed myself to get it. Another million on top of that? How could I possibly raise that…”

“Well… how about this, Ms. Olivia. I’ll give you the contact for the buyer. Talk to him properly. This person… his status is unusual. Two million is nothing to him. See if he might be willing to give up the heart.”

The call ended. Olivia clutched her phone, waiting for Dr. Caleb’s text.

With a *ding*, she opened it immediately.

A string of familiar numbers appeared on the screen.

The realization settled in her gut—a cold, hard weight.

This number… she’d recited it ten thousand times over the past five years. No one knew it better than her.

The one who bought the heart was Carl.