Out of Sight, Out of Mind

I arrived at the café to find Ryan feeding Emily an egg tart.

She glanced at me with a provocative smile in her eyes. "Anna, look at Ryan. He insists on feeding me."

"I originally planned to come find you, but since I'm pregnant and can't move around easily, Ryan asked you to come instead."

"Oh, sorry, I forgot you've never been pregnant, so you probably don't understand how hard it is."

If it were before, I would have been upset and caused a scene.

Now, I did not even pay any attention to her words.

I turned to Ryan and asked him calmly, "What's going on?"

Ryan fed Emily the last bite of the egg tart and gently wiped her mouth. His eyes were full of affection.

Then, he gazed at me with a cold expression and said, "Anna, let's get a divorce."

"Emily's baby is about to be born. As the father, I can't let people gossip about him."

He sneered. "Anyway, you can't…"

Before he could finish, it seemed like something struck Ryan's mind, and he suddenly pressed his forehead, hissing in pain.

He shook his head, muttering in confusion, "Can't... What am I saying?"

I had a pretty good idea of what happened.

After the seventeen-year-old Ryan protected me, my body had fully recovered, and I regained the ability to have children. This memory must have resurfaced in thirty-year-old Ryan's mind.

Soon, his thoughtful expression faded.

He quickly lifted his head, still looking at me with that unfamiliar, cold gaze.

"Anna, I think you're not as good as Emily, so let's get a divorce."

I heard him repeat it again.

I clutched my cup of hot coffee, lightly tracing the edges of the mug, but inside, my heart was frozen.

The ones who were supposed to leave never did for just one reason.

Once one was gone, there would always be another.

"Fine, we'll divorce, but with one condition."

I pushed the diary toward him, lowered my eyes, and said in a low voice, "You have to write in it yourself: [Ryan doesn't love Anna.]"

Ryan glanced at the diary, then looked up at me. His eyes were full of surprise, curiosity, and sarcasm.

"So, do you think this will make me stay?"

"Anna, have you been watching too many romance dramas? Who hasn't said sweet things or made promises when they were young? That was all just my impulsive, angry nonsense to fool you. You actually believed it? How ridiculous."

A wry smile tugged at the corner of my lips as I lightly tapped the diary with my finger. "If that's the case, then go ahead and write it down."

Ryan paused for a moment.

Then, after a moment of hesitation, he picked up the pen and quickly wrote the following words: [Ryan doesn't love Anna.]

After writing them, he said with a cold, heartless expression, "If you're still not convinced, I'll write it two more times."

Before I could speak, he quickly wrote it twice more, clean and swift.

I looked at the diary. There was no reaction on the page.

However, I knew it would show on the other end.

I picked up the pen and signed my name on the divorce agreement he had prepared.

Emily stopped me as I rose to my feet and was about to leave. "Anna, wait, I need to talk to you."

Then she told Ryan to get something to eat, claiming that the baby was hungry.

Ryan gently nodded, then shot me a warning look before leaving.

Emily suddenly snatched my diary and started flipping through it. There was a mocking smile on her face. "Is this Ryan's diary? I heard he used to always write about you in it. Too bad…"

"Even if he loved you so much back then, what does it matter now? If he really loved you, then what's my place?"

"Do you know how obsessed he is with me? After he's with you every year on your birthday and your wedding anniversary, he comes to spend time with me."

"He demands a lot from me. Every time, we'd go through several boxes, and the next day, his legs would be weak. We left traces of us in his Maybach, his office, and even in your bed."

I raised my hand in anger.

However, the next second, Emily was lying on the floor, screaming in pain.

The scream was so loud that Ryan rushed back immediately. When he saw Emily's pitiable expression, his face twisted with frantic concern. "What happened? What's going on?"

Emily theatrically squeezed out a single tear. "It's my fault. I took Anna's place as Mrs. Lane, so she accidentally pushed me."

"Ryan, please don't be mad at her."

Ryan glared at me. His eyes were bloodshot.

Just as I opened my mouth to speak, he suddenly rose, his hands wrapping around my neck with a crushing force. His eyes were wide with fury. "If I'd known you were such a petty, poisonous woman, I shouldn't have protected you back then. I should've let you die!"

I bitterly smiled.

Look, Ryan Lane. Even though I warned you that you would keep using these things to hurt me, you still had not changed.

"Ryan, this disgusting face of yours is enough to make anyone sick."

The diary in my hand fell in front of him.

The thirty-year-old Ryan picked it up, looking at me with disgust.

"Do you think a stupid thing like this can keep me here?"

"Every time I see the words in here, it reminds me of how I loved you, and it makes me feel sick and ashamed."

"Give it back to me!"

Ryan dodged my hand and ripped the diary from me with a sharp tug.

"You want it?"

He immediately ripped the diary to shreds as he listened to me, tossing the pieces in the air. "There, now I've given it to you!"

I crouched on the ground, looking up as the pieces of the destroyed diary fluttered down like snowflakes.

Suddenly, I started laughing louder and louder.

It was over.

It was really over now.

As Ryan watched me laugh, his veins bulged on his forehead, and he finally exploded. "Emily almost miscarried because of you, and you're still laughing?"

His bloodshot eyes filled with murderous intent as he grabbed the steak knife on the plate and lunged at me.

However, the pain I expected never came.

One drop, two drops…

Warm liquid dripped onto my face, along with a metallic smell of blood.

I opened my eyes and saw the knife held firmly in a hand just inches from me.

Following the line of his arm, I saw the seventeen-year-old Ryan appear in front of me.

His abdomen was wrapped in thick bandages. His eyes were bloodshot with fury. He stared at the thirty-year-old Ryan with a gaze that shifted from anger to disbelief and, finally, to utter despair.

He gripped the sharp knife tightly.

Blood dripped from his hand. It fell into my eyes and blurred into a brilliant poppy flower.