Chapter 6: Never Say Goodbye

Her noise gave me a headache, so I snapped back.

“He lost his memory, you lost your mind? Who’s clinging to whom now?”

Savannah was speechless.

She glared at me hatefully, grabbed Evan’s hand, and tried to drag him away.

I was about to close the door when a hand pressed against the doorframe, stopping me.

Evan frowned, pain flashing in his eyes. My breath caught in my throat.

“Babe, do you not want me anymore?”

...

I almost softened.

But in this twisted relationship, he was the one who decided to start, and he was the one who decided to end it.

In the end, who abandoned whom?

Evan, you were the one who let go first.

...

“Yes.” I took a deep breath. “I don’t want you anymore.”

All the color drained from his face. His hand on the doorframe slowly dropped.

I seized the moment to close and lock the door.

Even if Evan had a master key, he couldn’t get in again.

His footsteps faded away, but my heart felt like it was being stabbed with needles. It hurt so much.

Ten years—it’s really hard to let go.

Near midnight, there was another knock at the door.

Through the peephole, I saw Evan again, standing there like a lonely ice sculpture, silent and desperate.

“Can you not drive me away?”

He murmured over and over again.

Because I didn’t respond for a long time, those once-bright eyes slowly dimmed.

I steeled myself and ignored him, pressing my back against the door.

When dawn broke, my phone’s vibration woke me.

“Babe, did you sleep well?”

“It’s okay if you ignore me, I can wait.”

“I won’t give up on you.”

I never thought Evan could be so persistent. It left me off balance, unsure whether to be annoyed or moved.

For several days, he followed me everywhere, and I couldn’t shake him off.

Finally, the director couldn’t stand it and earnestly advised me:

“It’s normal for couples to fight. But Emily, making Evan sleep in the hallway—isn’t that a bit much?”

Too much?

But I never forced Evan to sleep on the floor. Who was he trying to impress?

“Director, we’re not fighting. We’re already—”

Before I could say “divorced,” my phone rang.

My best friend was on the other end, urging me to clarify things on Instagram.

Only then did I find out—Evan had slept in the hallway for several nights, and someone took photos and posted them online.

People joked he was a doormat husband camping outside his wife's door.

And my name was trending too.

Of course, I was cursed by his fans. The comments were brutal.

“Emily Reese dares to lock our Evan out?”

“Making him sleep in the hallway—how shameless is Emily!”

“Did she cast a spell on Evan? I’m so mad.”

“To be fair, Evan confessed his marriage at his peak, gave Emily security. What more does she want?!”

“Exactly! People who trample on love don’t deserve love!”

I couldn’t help but laugh as I read. So true.

But was I the one who trampled on love in the first place?

Evan has a huge fan base. In less than five minutes, my latest promo photo was edited into a black-and-white memorial picture.

“Emily, go die.”

Those four bloody words splattered across the photo.

I couldn’t breathe. My chest tightened.

My phone hit the floor, the screen shattering into a spiderweb of cracks.

Evan rushed over, carefully pulling me into his arms.

“Babe, don’t look at those.”

I’d worked for years, always diligent, never involved in any scandals. This was the first time I was truly scared and confused.

It took me a long time to find my voice.

“Evan.”

“I’m here, I’m here.”

His arms around me tightened.

“Let’s announce our divorce.”

His body stiffened instantly, as if even his heartbeat stopped. He trembled, begging me to give him another chance.

“Let me handle it. Trust me just once, okay?”

I shook my head and refused.

Before, when I said I liked Evan, I meant it. But now, when I say I want to let go, I mean it too.

I asked the director for leave, got ready to go home with Evan, sign the divorce papers, and post a statement on Instagram.

But in the car, he suddenly grabbed my wrist.

“Does it have to be this way?”

He asked in a low voice, like it was unbearable pain for him.

I looked at the trees passing by outside the window, feeling strangely numb.

There’s no rewind button in life. My feelings too—once missed, they’re gone.

“Evan, it’s impossible for us.”

I answered firmly.

He was silent for a moment. His face turned from white to blue, veins bulging on his forehead, a chill radiating from his whole body.

“Say it again.”

I did.

He suddenly lost control, yanked off his tie, grabbed my hands, and pressed them against the window.

Forced love isn’t love.

My legs trembled, but I forced myself to stay calm and warned him, “Let go, Evan. Don’t make a scene.”

But he lowered his eyes and laughed, a dark sound. When he looked up again, his eyes were full of aggression—just like Evan before he lost his memory.

I wasn’t sure what to expect next. My heart hammered.

“You won’t know until you try.”

He held the back of my head, then bit my lips in revenge, every atom in the air charged with chaos.

...

By sunset, I was left weak and trembling, my body exhausted and my mind spinning.

Evan ruffled my hair, smiling contentedly.

“Sweet.”

I kicked him hard, annoyance burning in my chest.

Not only was he not angry, he just grinned and handed me a new phone.

The internet exploded again.

Half an hour ago, Evan posted on Instagram and tagged me.

“Made my wife angry. Sleeping on the floor and asking for forgiveness—pitiful.”

The company’s legal team also stepped in, calling out several haters.

“We’re pursuing legal action for personal attacks.”

Public opinion flipped.

People online praised us—real couples are so sweet.

Only then did I realize, he’d tricked me into the car just to buy time and handle things his own way.

So cunning.

He had the driver turn around and head back to the set.

I pressed my lips together, ignoring everything he said. My jaw ached from clenching it.

“You’re mad? Hey, slow down.”

After getting out, Evan put his hands in his pockets and followed me at a leisurely pace.

I sped up to widen the distance, my heels clicking hard against the floor.

He didn’t mind, just laughed and said I was cute, like a little hedgehog.

Because I was walking too fast and too distracted, I didn’t notice the potted plant on the second floor about to fall.

Bang.

It fell!

I didn’t have time to dodge. My heart skipped a beat, adrenaline flooding my veins. But a figure suddenly threw himself over from behind.

He wrapped around me and we rolled across the floor.

My arm burned with pain, my palm sticky with blood. My head spun.

Only then did I realize—the person lying in a pool of blood was Evan.

He was clearly in pain, but still smiled at me, gentle as ever. My chest tightened at the sight.

“What a shame, I didn’t get to say it in time.”

“I really was a jerk before, but now...”

“I really like you.”

Evan was injured and in a coma for a week.

During that time, I thought about a lot of things. My mind wouldn’t stop racing.

But even I couldn’t figure out—why, when I saw him hurt, did my heart ache so much?

Was it guilt, gratitude?

Or had I not let go at all?

I didn’t know.

So the day he woke up, I went to the hospital, my stomach in knots.

Unfortunately, someone got there before me.

Savannah was holding his hand, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.

“Evan, the doctor said you should regain your memory this time. Look at me, okay? I don’t believe you can just stop loving me.”

My heart trembled, a strange mix of dread and relief.

Evan was finally going to recover his memory? Then he and Savannah should be together soon.

I didn’t want to listen anymore. I was about to leave, when a low roar came from inside.

“Get out.”

He impatiently shook off Savannah’s hand, glaring at her with disgust.

“When you were sleeping with those guys abroad, did you ever think of me? Huh?”

Savannah’s eyes widened, as if she couldn’t process what he said. Her mouth opened, but no words came out.

After a long moment, she stammered, weakly protesting:

“You—you investigated me?”

He took a deep breath, barely restraining his anger. When he looked up again, his gaze met mine outside the room.

The air was still for about ten seconds. My heart pounded.

He suddenly pulled out his IV and staggered toward me.

“Babe, babe—”

After being bedridden so long, he was weak and stumbled to the ground.

I stood still, not moving. My feet felt like they were stuck to the floor.

Savannah rushed to help him up, but he shook her off violently.

She broke down crying, her sobs echoing down the hall.

“Evan, listen to me. That time was because I knew you got married, I got drunk, and in a moment of confusion went to the hotel with them.”

“Forgive me, okay?”

Evan was furious, turning to shout at her:

“Shut up!”

Then he leaned against the wall, struggling to stand, and tightly held my hand.

In an absolutely gentle tone, he asked if I was scared. His voice was soft, almost a whisper.

I just looked at him calmly and asked:

“Did you really lose your memory, Evan?”

He was always pale, but after my question, his face turned ghostly white. His usually calm eyes filled with panic.

At this point, does the answer even matter?

It’s already obvious, isn’t it?

I can’t describe how I felt at that moment. My chest felt hollow, my throat tight.

It’s like—you’ve worked so hard for so long, and the person you’ve been chasing finally looks back at you. Maybe you’re moved, just a little more, and you’d soften.

But reality cruelly tells you: are you stupid?

He never really liked you, the substitute. He just couldn’t stand being betrayed by the real one and projected his feelings onto you.

That’s all.

No wonder, that day in the car when he kissed me, his eyes were just like before he “lost his memory.” He was faking it all along.

“Babe, let me explain, it’s not what you think...”

I shook off his hand, sneering.

I took out a disinfectant wipe from my bag and wiped where he’d touched me, my movements slow and deliberate.

“Don’t call me babe. We’re already divorced.”

My actions hurt him, his dry eyes shining with unshed tears.

I tossed the wipe in the trash and turned to leave, my back straight.

My wrist was grabbed tightly. His touch was desperate, trembling.

A low, trembling voice came from behind:

“Emily, don’t go.”

The high and mighty movie star was humbled to the extreme, half-kneeling on the ground. The hospital floor was hard and cold.

Not far away, people were already raising their phones to take photos and videos.

I forced a smile, lips trembling.

After all, Evan saved me once; I wasn’t heartless enough to ruin his career.

As the door closed, I pulled my hand back, leaving behind a perfunctory sentence:

“Rest up.”

He knew I was acting, but it seemed he didn’t care about his own life.

When I opened the door to leave, he, along with the blanket, fell to the floor again.

His eyes were red, and no matter how hard he tried to hold back, his voice still trembled.

“Don’t go, okay?”

“I won’t force you to get back together, or to love me. Just let me stay by your side. I don’t need anything else—dignity, career, I can give up everything...”

I lowered my eyes and didn’t speak, my heart pounding in my ears.

He half-knelt on the ground, veins standing out on his arms, eyes bloodshot.

“Say something, Emily.”

“What do I have to do for you to stay by my side?”

That afternoon, Evan lay on the ground like a dog. His proud spine was completely broken.

He asked Emily again and again if she could not leave.

Emily just looked at him coldly, backing away step by step.

But he still wouldn’t give up, one hand struggling on the floor to try to reach her foot, but no matter how hard he tried, he was always a little short.

The door closed mercilessly.

Evan closed his eyes in despair, his hand clenched into a fist, pounding the floor.

He knew—

This time, Emily would never look back.

It was his lie that pushed her away completely. He tasted regret, sharp and bitter.

He struggled to lean against the wall, bowing his head deeply, his eyes wet.

He had asked himself more than once:

“I didn’t lose my memory. I was reborn.”

Was this sentence really so hard to say?

But he didn’t dare. He really didn’t dare say it.

Emily would think he was crazy, and would never like him again. The thought hollowed him out.

The back of his head hurt badly. He pressed his palm to it, wincing.

Vaguely, he recalled many things from his previous life, memories flickering like broken film.

Could someone really look so much like someone else with zero relation?

At that time, Savannah had quarreled with him repeatedly. He was annoyed, so he deliberately approached Emily.

When she was being forced by a few spoiled rich boys to drink and dance, he rescued her.

From then on, he had a troublesome shadow he couldn’t shake off.

He often stared at her face in a daze. But as soon as she spoke, her cool and aloof tone was so different from Savannah’s sweet, girl-next-door voice.

Emily liked him for ten years. He wasn’t stupid—how could he not feel it?

But the order in which people appear really matters. He met Savannah first, and couldn’t let her go.

So, when he learned she had gone abroad without a word, and inexplicably wanted to break up, he was furious. He did something he still despised himself for.

“Do you want to marry me?”

He asked Emily, so casually it was like asking if she wanted to eat.

Emily’s eyes brightened for a moment, then dimmed. She smiled bitterly, telling him not to joke.

His heart wavered inexplicably.

“Not joking. Go home and get your ID.”

“I’ll pick you up in two hours.”

After getting the marriage certificate, Emily seemed so happy, calling him:

“Evan.”

He instantly grew irritable, blurting out words as sharp as knives, cutting the smile from her face.

By the time he realized what he’d said, it was too late.

Emily’s face went pale, looking at him helplessly, her clear eyes brimming with tears.

She knew. He saw her as a substitute.

This kind of thing, once done, would be repeated again and again. Since he did it, he would own up to it.

Afterward, as compensation, he introduced Emily to many opportunities. Emily was obedient, always accepting everything.

But once, he drank too much at a wrap party and was carried home by his friends.

The lights turned on. Emily was curled up on the couch, a small bundle, waiting for him.

At that moment, even he couldn’t understand—why did something inside him suddenly collapse?

She heard the noise, rubbed her red-rimmed eyes, and got up to make tea for everyone.

Those friends knew about Savannah. So one of them couldn’t help cursing Evan:

“You’re really a jerk... One in your heart, one at home. Bro, karma’s real, be careful.”

Jerk?

Evan smiled. He knew he was a jerk—he always knew.

He treated Emily badly, hoping she would stop liking him. His heart wasn’t empty, so he couldn’t love her purely. The only thing he could do was help her become an A-list actress, cleanly, without touching her. When they divorced, she could find a better future.

But Evan never expected Savannah would suddenly return and ask to get back together. So, he abandoned Emily to be with Savannah.

From that night on, Emily disappeared from his life, never to return. The emptiness was suffocating.

Half a month later, a malicious injury incident trended on Instagram. His heart skipped a beat. He clicked into the news, and the person hit by the falling flowerpot—was Emily.

His fingers trembled, unable to believe it. Until he saw that pale face in the hospital bed, he couldn’t breathe.

Emily’s agent, also her best friend, slapped him twice.

“How dare you even show up? It was your crazy fan who did this.”

Only then did Evan find out—that fan had staked out his house, seen Emily, but never found a chance to act. Finally, the night she moved out alone, followed her to the set. The flowerpot was heavy and aimed at her head. She wanted to kill Emily.

Evan staggered, nearly collapsing, the world spinning around him.

He returned home in a daze, and heard Savannah flirting on the phone.

“Break up? He makes so much now, why let someone else have him. Don’t be mad, I’ll find you again, mwah.”

So, he had someone investigate why Savannah left the country in such a hurry. Oh—a one-night stand at a bar, went abroad for an abortion. Not only that, she fooled around a lot overseas.

Evan laughed at himself, the sound empty and broken.

What goes around comes around. What he cherished always left him.

He started drinking day and night. When that truck drove toward him, he seemed to see Emily, smiling and reaching out to him. So he forgot to dodge.

At the moment of death, he finally realized—he had fallen in love with Emily long ago. The signs were always there. He just ignored them.

...

When he opened his eyes again, Evan found he had been reborn—back to before Emily’s accident. He was overjoyed, hope flickering in his chest.

If his last life was a mistake, this life, he would make up for it, love her well.

But, but—Emily wouldn’t give him another chance.

Just as I left the inpatient department, someone suddenly grabbed my arm. Sharp nails scratched my cheek. She moved too fast, I couldn’t react, and let out a pained hiss.

“Bitch, it’s all your fault for this face. Let’s see how you seduce Evan now!”

Savannah admired the blood on her nail tip, laughing triumphantly.

People nearby recognized me and crowded around, their voices rising in a confused chorus.

“How do they look so alike? Are they sisters?”

“No way, Emily’s Wikipedia says she’s an only child.”

“She just said seduce Evan, is that the movie star Evan Callahan?”

“Someone saw Evan kneeling to Emily upstairs...”

“What’s going on? Messy first love and stand-in?”

With more and more people gathering, I hurriedly put on a mask and tried to leave, my heart pounding.

Savannah yanked my hair, shouting:

“Come, everyone, take a look... This Emily Reese seduced my boyfriend while I was abroad. Now I want to ruin her face—is that too much?”

Then she ripped off my mask. My wounded right cheek was exposed, burning painfully.

The crowd was noisy and chaotic, voices overlapping in a blur.

Not far away, my best friend came running with a few bodyguards from the van. Before leaving, she raked Savannah’s face with her freshly done nails.

“Damn, idiot! If you’re sick, go get treated!”

She shielded me and got me in the car.

My best friend checked my face, then looked at Instagram, furious.

The top post was a stitched video—Evan kneeling to me, then Savannah trying to slash my face. It made me look like the mistress.

#EmilyReeseMistressDrama

#EvanCallahanStandInScandal

#EvanEmilyFakeCouple

The trending topics just wouldn’t cool off.

Evan called me countless times, but I never answered.

My best friend took me to the hospital for medicine.

When we got home, there was a familiar figure sitting on the steps. The back of his head was still bandaged, lips pale.

“Does it hurt?”

Cool fingertips gently touched my cheek. I flinched.

I instinctively dodged, my heart jumping into my throat.

His hand froze midair, trembling slightly, and only lowered after a long while. His voice choked.

“Don’t hide... I mean nothing else. Just want to see you, just once.”

I avoided his burning gaze, speaking almost heartlessly:

“You’ve seen me, you can leave now, right?”

He answered with a low “mm,” unsteadily supporting himself on the wall as he left.

But after a few steps—bang. He collapsed to the ground, utterly wretched. The wound on the back of his head split open, blood gushing out, terrifying to see.

My best friend exclaimed, “How could he dare leave the hospital like this? He’s crazy. Hurry and send him back before something happens.”

Evan opened his eyes slightly, eyelashes trembling, trying to block the blood. But he couldn’t. He smiled bitterly.

“What are you looking at, turn around. Careful you’ll have nightmares, and no one will comfort you.”

I turned away, unable to bear it. My throat felt dry, as if something was stuck. My whole body was uncomfortable.

Only when my best friend pushed me did I snap out of it.

“What are you spacing out for? Trying to be a statue at your own door?”

That glaring red on the ground hadn’t even dried. But he was already taken away by ambulance.

“He tries so hard, will you soften?” my best friend suddenly asked in the living room.

I was silent for a moment, then shook my head.

“I’m grateful he saved me.”

The next day, I received a message from the director.

“Emily, is your face okay? When can you and Evan come to reshoot the last two scenes? We’re about to tear down the set.”

My fingers paused, just as I was about to refuse.

Another message popped up.

“I know what you want to say, but nothing is settled yet—even bad publicity is publicity. Emily, buzz is capital.”

I fell silent, my mind spinning.

Not long after, Evan contacted me too.

“Can you help me finish this scene? Just leave me a memory... After it’s over, I won’t bother you anymore.”

I typed one word:

“Okay.”

On the last day of filming, Evan arrived early. He’d groomed himself carefully, and when he saw me, he really didn’t pester me. Just smiled faintly, a shadow in his eyes.

I couldn’t read his thoughts, so I just followed him to stand in front of the camera.

He played the role of an ex—the kind who begs humbly for reconciliation.

When filming started, he pulled me into his arms, his whole body trembling. A few tears fell into my collar, burning hot.

“We can’t go back.”

I recited my lines as usual. But the man in front of me seemed not to hear, whispering in my ear:

“I’m sorry for using you as a substitute.”

I froze, my mind going blank.

That wasn’t in the script. Was Evan using the filming to say what he really felt?

I turned to look, and all the staff had left—only the cold, running cameras remained.

I felt uneasy, softly calling his name.

Evan slowly let go, eyes red, posture extremely humble.

“Can I call you babe one last time?”

One last time?

I looked at him, confused.

He held my waist, turned me around so my back faced a small alley.

“Babe, if I hadn’t lied to you back then, would you have softened? Would you have given me another chance?”

Maybe because his eyes were so earnest, I really hesitated for a long time. Time ticked by, second by second. I could hear my own heartbeat, clearer and clearer.

We can’t carve a mark in time for a boat that’s already gone.

“Evan.”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

If a clock could run backward a hundred times, could we go back to the past?

He was stunned, then forced a pale smile.

I smiled too—a smile of letting go.

...

He said he knew my answer. He said, let me forget this bastard. He also said, in the days to come, take care of yourself.

...

I frowned at him, completely unable to understand what he meant. Until the hands on my waist kept tightening. He turned me around with him.

Only then did I realize—today’s shoot was a huge gamble.

Savannah froze in place, panicking at the fruit knife at the man’s waist.

Savannah froze, panicking at the paring knife at the man’s waist.

“You’d give up your life for her?!”

“Evan, are you disgusting? Liking a stand-in? Didn’t you trick her into marrying you just to spite me? Now you act like you’re madly in love—who are you pretending for?”

Her rage burned away all reason. Everything that should or shouldn’t be said, she blurted out.

By the time she realized the camera was live—the police had already arrived.

The internet exploded again.

Before they loaded him onto the stretcher, Evan hit send on a drafted post.

It was short, only one line:

“My fault, she’s innocent.”

I sat in the hospital corridor, hands and feet cold, refreshing the trending comments.

Those who once cursed and hated me, now all changed sides.

“Poor Emily Reese, tricked into marriage by a jerk, disfigured by a psycho.”

“Damn, she loved him for ten years—how many ten years does a person have?”

“Even after all this, she never said a bad word about him. What an angel, I feel for her!”

“Just for her character, I’ll always support Emily!”

“Those who called her a bitch and made her funeral pic, where are you? Apologize!”

“If I were her, I’d not only make Evan sleep in the hallway, but also beat him up!”

Oh, the truth comes out. Those who cursed me, now love me. How ironic.

My phone dinged. I got another scheduled text.

“Babe, were you scared today?

I seem to have said that was the last time I’d call you that, but I broke my word.

I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you my plan in advance.

So when you see this long message, maybe... I’m already gone.

Babe, you may not believe it, but I’ve lived two lives. Absurd, right?

But I’m useless—never got the chance to love you well. Not even once...

This life, I know I’m destined to go before you.

But I can’t rest easy about Savannah. She wants to ruin your face, and will do worse in the future.

So, I had to find a way to send her away, keep her far from you.

Hurting her meant hurting myself too—only I would pull a stunt that dumb. Don’t laugh at me; I panic when I care.

But, I really don’t want to live either. The script for the rest of my life is set—as long as you’re happy, I have no regrets.

Ten years, 3,650 days, over 87,000 hours—I never said I love you.

Now I’ll make up for it. Is it too late? I’m going to say it... Evan loves Emily...

But he’s a bastard. Only the love after starting over is clean. So please don’t despise it, okay?

Guess I don’t have much time left. I’ll stop here. I want to see you tomorrow, safe and okay.

No time to say goodbye. Don’t be mad at me, babe. Actually, it’s good this way, because—

We’ll never say goodbye.”

I stared blankly at the phone screen until it turned off by itself. My hands shook.

I think, I don’t hate Evan anymore.

Late autumn arrived. I was invited to an event. Coincidentally, the venue arranged by the sponsor was the same mall where Evan was interviewed by passersby.

My poster had already been replaced.

The best thing about live events is that you can wander freely afterward.

Wearing a mask, I strolled around the mall for a while. Finally, I stopped under my own poster.

A few brave high school boys came over with their phones to ask:

“Miss, can we take a photo of you?”

“A guy asked us to ask a few questions...”

I smiled, feeling lighter than I had in months.

“Sure.”

“Do you... still hate him?”

My gaze drifted to a familiar figure not far away. He should be able to hear me, right?

“No, not anymore. Sometimes, just one moment between people is enough.”

“If you met again, what would you say?”

I tilted my head, thinking how to phrase it. I waved at him.

“Wish him—good health, and all the best.”

The most ordinary blessing.

The man stepped back, waved both hands high, and walked out of the mall.

That was goodbye.

But I knew clearly in my heart.

We would never meet again.

A broken mirror can’t be made whole.

Even a withered tree can bloom again.

But before the next spring comes, we must remember—be brave.

Don’t look back.

Epilogue:

The man walked out of the mall, exhaling a long breath.

He knew very well—today was the last day of his life. That truck was destined to come. He was destined never to get Emily’s love.

He only wanted to see her one last time.

The violent crash almost shattered his eardrums. He fell in a pool of blood, opened his mouth, wanting to say something. But in the end, not a sound came out.

In his two lifetimes, the person who seemed unimportant but was actually the most important left him in the end.

And he didn’t even dare to say, see you in the next life.

He was so humble, even he thought he didn’t deserve to have another life with her.