Valentine's Day with His Sister, We Broke Up

In the video, the man was half-squatting, carefully wrapping a band-aid around her finger.

Selene pouted coyly. “Darian, it hurts so much.”

The man froze, lowered his head with restraint and kissed that finger, his voice hoarse.

“Does it still hurt?”

It felt as if my own wound had been torn open again, doused with alcohol, the pain suffocating me.

I took a deep breath and dialed 110. “Hello, I want to report a crime.”

But what I ended up facing wasn’t the police—it was Darian, storming in with furious questions.

His eyes held a coldness I had never seen before.

“You called the police? Selene is just a childish girl—was this really necessary?”

Childish girl? My heart filled with disappointment.

“What kind of child would leave me needing more than thirty stitches?”

After my injury, Darian showed no concern for me, only blaming me for calling the police on his sister.

“Ruby, this is a family matter. There was no need to call the police. I’ve already punished her—confined her to the house for a day.”

I froze, then couldn’t help but laugh out loud, laughing until the wound ached.

“Darian, you call that punishment? Even if she beat me to death, would you still take her side like this?”

His gaze darkened.

“With me protecting you, how could I ever let you…”

His tone softened as he reached up to wipe the tears from my face, slipping a document into my hand at the same time.

“The police case has already been withdrawn. Be good, just sign this and in a few days, I’ll have her apologize to you in person.”

Seeing the large characters “Letter of Forgiveness” on the page before me, my heart felt plunged into an icy pit in the middle of winter.

When I lifted my eyes again, there was only coldness in them.

“I’ll sign it, but you have to promise me one condition.”

Darian, holding the signed letter, stopped suddenly as he was about to walk out the door.

“Ruby, if you had a younger sister, you would understand me. You’re both equally important to me.”

I curved my lips in a faint smile. I didn’t have a younger sister—but I did have an older brother.

And I would never put him and my sister-in-law on opposite ends of a scale, forcing him to choose.

Thinking of that, I called my brother. “Willy, I don’t want to get married anymore. I want to go to Switzerland to see you.”

He immediately replied in a warm voice. “Alright, then don’t marry. I’ll book the ticket for you.”

The flight happened to be right after Azura’s wedding.

During those days in the hospital, Darian came diligently, appearing at the same time every day.

He brought light porridge, changed my dressings and when I woke up in pain during the night, he would silently hold my hand.

But inside, I felt no joy—only desolation.

Loving someone for eight years, yet letting go took just a single moment.

“Ruby, this is a cake Selene made to apologize to you.”

I glanced at it and my heart slowly sank. “Darian, did you forget? I’m allergic to mango.”

He clearly knew I had nearly lost my life once from just a spoonful of mango pudding. A flicker of something crossed his face, but still he insisted, holding the cake toward me. “The little girl worked hard to make it. How about you just eat a bite of the plain cake base?”

As he brought the spoon closer, I slapped it to the ground. “Was it not enough for you siblings to harm me once—you want a second time?”

His expression darkened at the sight of the cake on the floor. “How can you say that? Selene didn’t know—”

“She didn’t know, but what about you?”

Because of my sudden movement, the gauze on my head tore, blood seeping through.

Darian’s brows furrowed, his voice low. “I’ll get the doctor.”

But before he could step out of the ward, a phone call came through—a girl’s sobbing voice on the other end.