When You Want to Love Me Again, I Don't Need it Anymore

Ralph opened the office door and was surprised to find the chief commissioner, Colin Firth, waiting inside.

He quickly poured him a cup of coffee.

"Why didn't you call me before coming? You've been waiting for a while, right?"

Colin said, shaking his head, "I just wanted to check in on you. Your casework is crucial."

Colin pointed to a box on his desk. "The security guard asked me to give this to you when I came in."

Ralph walked over to inspect the box, which only had his name written on it, nothing more.

He furrowed his brow while I couldn't take my eyes off the parcel.

I had a feeling that inside were some parts of my body.

Colin chuckled, lightening the mood. "Don't worry, it's not a bomb; it passed through security."

Ralph laughed softly. "Not that. Just surprised someone would send me something."

"What about Cynthia?" Colin mentioned my name matter-of-fact.

Ralph's expression darkened suddenly, causing my breath to hitch.

Ever since his father's death, whenever someone mentioned me in front of him, he would react this way.

Colin sighed, asking, "Are you still at odds with Cynthia?"

"Mr. Firth, I've said it before, I have nothing to do with Cynthia anymore."

As Ralph spoke, his tone turned cold, but Colin persisted.

"The case isn't fully resolved yet, why do you insist it was Cynthia who killed your dad?"

"I saw it with my own eyes. Can it be fake?"

Ralph's grip on the coffee cup tightened, his eyes welling up.

My heart felt like it was being stabbed repeatedly.

The truth blocked in my chest, but I couldn't defend myself anymore.

I had cried and explained to him, "I didn't do it, how could I harm your dad? I'd rather die for him. Ralph, why don't you believe me?"

It was not the first time I had said these words to Ralph.

But he never believed me; every time, he would just stare at me with no warmth in his eyes.

"Why wasn't it you who died, Cynthia?"

And this time, I wouldn't even hear that cold sentence again.

"Is seeing it with your own eyes always the truth? You've handled so many cases, don't you know everything requires evidence?"

Ralph turned away, not wanting to hear more from Colin.

"Mr. Firth, do you remember how my dad looked at Cynthia before he died? I can never forget that."

Colin opened his mouth but ultimately stayed silent.

I felt bitterness inside, memories flooding back.

On the day we joined the detective bureau, we swore together that we would be loyal to the country, loyal to the people, loyal to our faith, never to betray!

After the oath, Ralph hugged me and added, "Always believe. Cynthia, I will always trust you."

I hugged him back, happily responding, "I will too, always believe in you!"

But in the end, he didn't believe me; he only trusted his own eyes.

Feeling the atmosphere grow heavy, Colin redirected the conversation back to the box.

"Should we open it?"

Ralph glanced at the box, seemingly convinced it was from me, and shook his head in disgust.

"Why bother looking at something sent by an ungrateful person? Later, help me take it downstairs to throw it in the trash."

Colin pouted, "I won't do it. It's a heavy box; do you expect an old man like me to help you carry it up and down?"

Before Ralph could respond, his phone rang, softening his entire demeanor.

"Is there something you need, Charlotte?"

At the mention of this name, I felt a chill run down my spine, causing me to shiver uncontrollably.

Charlotte Freeman!

She was the person Ralph had once secretly loved, but they drifted apart when they went to college. Yet, two years ago, she suddenly reappeared in Ralph's life.

Ralph always believed their reunion was fate, a coincidence.

I tried to distance myself, not wanting to witness the sudden tenderness that would appear on his face.

But even now, the farthest I could be from him was just three feet away.

I couldn't see his face, yet I could still hear the deliberate softness in his voice.

"Sure, okay.

"By the way, did you come to the office today to bring me something?

"Oh, it's nothing. I just received a box, but I'm not sure who sent it.

"Okay, you're right. I'll open it later and see what's inside."

I covered my ears, trying to escape the overwhelming feeling that shook my very soul.

When he thought the box was from me, he was terrified beyond measure. But if Charlotte spoke, no matter how repulsed he felt, he would still listen to her.

I thought, "Ralph, have you ever truly loved me at all?"