Love Like Snow on Fingertips

Lucy remained at the funeral through the entire night. Ryan did not appear until the next day.

Taking in Lucy’s deathly pale face and the small gravestone, Ryan seemed unable to process the sight. “Lucy… you…”

He rushed forward and pulled her into a crushing hug, his voice thick. “We can have another child, but what if something happens to your health?”

Lucy let out a bitter laugh. “Another one?” Her voice rose, edged with hysteria. “Ryan, do you have any idea how much I struggled to conceive this baby? The doctor said I can never have children again!”

Ryan’s expression darkened. He lowered his head. “I’m sorry, Lucy.”

“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” She pointed a trembling finger at the gravestone, her voice raw. “I kept waiting—waiting for you to come help me. Where were you?!”

“I’m sorry, Lucy. Something urgent came up at the company, so…”

Lucy sneered. “Was it really the company? Or was your little student throwing another tantrum?”

With a heavy thud, Ryan knelt before their child’s grave, his tone suddenly earnest. “Lucy, it’s all my fault. I failed you and our baby. I’m so sorry…”

Watching the man before her perform this show of devastating grief, Lucy suddenly laughed—a wild, broken sound that dissolved into tears.

She should have seen it coming.

The booked movie tickets, the unexplained hotel notifications flashing on his phone, the bouquets of roses that were never for her… Everything had been screaming that Ryan’s heart had long since wandered.

Yet she had chosen to believe his lies.

“You don’t need to apologize,” she said, her voice now eerily calm. “Just send her away, and I’ll pretend none of this ever happened.”

“No.” Ryan refused immediately. “Ruth is all alone in the world. She’s just a kid—how do you expect her to survive?”

Lucy smiled coldly. “Fine.”

She stopped holding back. Pulling out her phone, she called the butler and ordered him to pack up every single item from Ruth’s apartment. “Throw her out.”

“Have you lost your mind?!”

Ryan panicked, snatching the phone from her hand. He muttered a few hurried instructions before hanging up. “She just chose not to donate blood for you. Why are you being so ruthless?”

“She has every right to choose whether to donate or not!”

Lucy felt the sting of betrayal all over again.

That wasn’t what he’d said back then.

“If you’re going to be this heartless,” Ryan said, his voice dropping low and dangerous, “I won’t hesitate to go after your sister. You wouldn’t want to see Amy’s future completely ruined, would you?”

He was threatening her with Amy’s future—for Ruth.

In that moment, the man before her felt like a complete stranger.

“Stop this, Lucy. You need to rest.” He tried to guide her toward the car, but Lucy opened a document and pushed it toward him.

“What’s this?”

She took a deep, steadying breath. “It’s our…”

“It’s fine. If this will calm you down, I’ll sign anything.”

Without even glancing at the contents, he flipped to the last page of the divorce agreement and signed his name in the same bold, flowing script.

Looking at that familiar handwriting, Lucy faintly remembered the first ninety-nine love letters Ryan had written her a decade ago.

The last one had ended with four awkward, earnest words:

“I like you.”

Her eyes stung.

“Oh, by the way,” Ryan added, almost as an afterthought, “I picked out some gifts for you. See if there’s anything you like.”

As he spoke, a long list of luxury items appeared on her phone. It had everything—and yet Lucy felt nothing.

At the very bottom of the list, she spotted a few prenatal education books and CDs. A quick check of the order dates confirmed they hadn’t been meant for her.

Just as Lucy was about to speak, several messages from an unknown number lit up her screen.

Attached was an ultrasound photo labeled: *8 weeks pregnant.*

A follow-up text blinked below: *“Oh, how clumsy of me. My apologies—this was meant for Ryan.”*

It felt like her heart had been ripped out, then ground into the dirt.

A wave of nausea, pure and scalding, rose in her throat. Lucy stared blankly at the screen. Then, slowly, she smiled.

Well. That’s one hell of a present.