Counterfeit Affection

Henry's expression was one of genuine bewilderment. He smiled and affectionately squeezed my cheek, saying, "I'm happy as long as you're by my side. Is there a reason why you're acting so strange today, Claire?

"I'll talk to you later since I need to go make that chicken noodle soup of yours; otherwise, you'll genuinely catch a bad cold."

I watched him walk away, and the desperate smile I had managed to construct instantly crumbled. I lowered my head in desolate silence, thinking that despite the shocking discovery, I was utterly incapable of hating Henry. He didn't love me, but he had, in every other way, been truly good to me.

I inhabited this physical body, which was only eight years old, when the system transferred me here. Henry and I could be considered childhood friends, having grown up together.

I was 16 years old when a group of street ruffians cornered and harassed me in a passageway, and he had rushed in fearlessly to shield me, sustaining an injury to his arm as a result.

I was 18 years old when my parents separated and both established new households, leaving me unwanted. Henry was the one who had welcomed me into his home, assuring me tenderly that he would be my new source of strength and stability.

I carried the weight of being an orphan from the real world, and my time here was marked by parental neglect, making my existence suffocatingly painful. Henry represented the sole source of genuine warmth I had ever secured.

I could tolerate that his love was a pretense because the assistance he rendered was absolutely authentic, and my gratitude for him was boundless.

I suddenly felt a crushing, sharp ache in my chest that tore me from my painful memories. I clutched at my chest, fully aware that the system was draining away my life force. I then murmured to myself, with an uncanny calmness, "I suppose with the antagonist dying now, everyone in this world will be happy about that."

Henry could finally stop living in dread, constantly afraid that I would become vengeful and hurt the woman he cherished. He would no longer be required to sacrifice his whole life, maintaining a false, deceitful marriage with a woman he held no affection for.

…

It was the following day when I was roused by a stabbing, twisting pain. I tried to stand, leaning heavily on the table, but I was so unsteady that I almost lost my footing.

I got lucky as Henry, who had just walked into the room, caught me in his arms. He noticed my ghastly, pale complexion and immediately furrowed his brow. "Your condition seems rather serious, so it's probably more than just a cold now. I'll take you to the hospital, so we can have you examined, Claire."

I shook my head in refusal, knowing that it was the system actively withdrawing my life force; therefore, any medical examination at a hospital would be useless, as they could never identify the true source of my condition.

Henry locked his arms securely around my waist, his demeanor hardening into one of uncharacteristic resolve. "You're going no matter what."

He carried me to the hospital. His brow furrowed deeply with anxiety throughout the journey. His public display of concern once again made me mistakenly believe that he was truly concerned for me.

I was waiting for my medical consultation when I suddenly looked up and spotted William rushing into the hospital, carrying Renee in his embrace. Renee's forehead was slick with cold sweat, clearly indicating that she was in severe pain.

Henry spotted Renee, too, and his expression suddenly shifted. He grabbed the nearby nurse and asked urgently, "What's wrong with that young lady?"

"That young lady presented with a sudden onset of gastroenteritis. Her boyfriend is currently discussing the treatment plan with the doctor."

I suddenly felt my heart constrict when Henry turned to look at me. I whispered, "I'm feeling much better now, so you should go check on Renee. I mean, she's my friend too."

Henry appeared visibly torn, yet he ultimately agreed, saying, "I'll go check on her since her condition seems more critical than yours. If you need me, just call, and I'll come back immediately, Claire."

Having said that, Henry rushed toward Renee.

I sat silently, watching Henry and William attend to Renee, noting the look of heartbreak on their faces with a surge of deep envy. I finally understood that this was the true power of the protagonist, to command the unwavering devotion of both men, who were ready to give up everything for her.

I snapped out of my daze as the doctor called for me. I went into the consultation room and was told that I was suffering from multi-organ failure; my life was nearing its end.

I had fully expected this outcome, yet hearing the diagnosis spoken aloud still brought a wave of profound sorrow. I sat there, paralyzed for a few moments, before the stark realization hit me—my time was running out, and I had made no arrangements for what came after.

I considered Henry's demanding schedule and his obvious lack of true affection and chose not to inflict the trouble of my funeral and final affairs upon him.

I hailed a cab and went straight to the crematorium. I had just selected a tombstone when I was approached by an attendant holding a clipboard for the final details. "What is the deceased's name, and what is your relationship to them?"

I replied, "It's Claire Jensen, and the tombstone is for myself."

That attendant immediately raised his head, giving me a look of deep astonishment. "You're still so young. Did you come here by yourself? Why isn't your family with you?"

I recalled my estranged parents and Henry, who was preoccupied with his true love. I replied softly after a moment of silence, "I'm sorry, but I don't have any family."

That attendant ultimately remained silent. Instead, he quietly met my gaze with deep compassion as he processed and completed all the necessary formalities.