Chapter 3
1843words
Around her were young couples with expectant faces and single women with anxious expressions, like a ukiyo-e painting reflecting her current absurd situation.
"Claire Wilson."
Hearing her name, she stood and walked into the consultation room with steady steps. Facing the doctor's formulaic questions, her voice was calm and unwavering: "Yes, I've thought it through. I'd like to schedule the procedure."
The doctor looked up at her, perhaps noticing her extremely pale complexion, and added: "Do you need to discuss this with your family? Or perhaps have your boyfriend come in?"
Claire pulled at the corner of her mouth, showing an expression that couldn't quite be called a smile. "No need! I can decide for myself!"
Receiving the surgery appointment slip, that thin piece of paper felt as heavy as a thousand pounds. She folded it, then folded it again, stuffing it into the innermost compartment of her backpack, as if hiding an unbearable secret. At the same time, she received an official email notification from the hospital approving her advanced studies in the United States.
Departure and beginning, destruction and rebirth, proceeded in such an eerily synchronized manner.
She began discreetly sorting through items in her apartment, throwing away what needed to be discarded, packing what needed to be packed. She contacted a real estate agency, entrusting them to rent out her apartment. Everything proceeded calmly and methodically, just as she would handle any complex psychological case. Only occasionally, when sorting through items Lucas had left at her place—a tie, a lighter, several business magazines—would her movements momentarily pause, but she would quickly resume as normal, tossing them all into a cardboard box labeled "To Be Processed."
That afternoon, the dean personally called, his tone polite. "Claire, I need to trouble you with something. Professor Guthrie, that top academic authority from our law school, has been emotionally unstable recently due to some family matters, and his family is worried. His son, Mr. Ethan Guthrie, specifically requested that you help with a psychological guidance session. What do you think..."
Claire wanted to decline, as her current state was really not suitable for receiving such an important visitor. But hearing the name "Ethan Guthrie," she recalled that brief meeting with the scholar who had been so gentle and refined, with clear eyes.
She hesitated for a moment, but still agreed. "Alright, Dean, I'll arrange a time."
In the specially prepared Psychological Counseling room, Claire met Ethan Guthrie and his father.
Professor Guthrie had an irremovable gloom between his brows, but being extremely well-mannered, he still maintained his dignity. Ethan quietly accompanied him, looking at his father with eyes full of concern.
The counseling session went smoothly, as Claire's professionalism and empathy quickly earned Professor Guthrie's trust. By the end, the old man's expression had visibly relaxed.
Ethan escorted her to the office door, thanking her sincerely. "Dr. Wilson, I really can't thank you enough. My father hasn't opened up to anyone like this in a very long time." His gaze was genuine and gentle as it rested on her face, showing obvious appreciation. "I heard you applied for the Stanford exchange program? What a coincidence—I happen to know one of the directors at their medical school. If you need any help with paperwork or recommendation letters, please don't hesitate to ask."
He didn't pry further, simply expressing his goodwill and support at the right moment. This perfectly measured respect brought Claire, who was exhausted both mentally and physically, a long-forgotten sense of warmth.
She didn't refuse, nodding slightly. "Thank you, Professor Guthrie. I'll contact you if needed."
Perhaps this was truly another window of opportunity that fate had opened for her.
However, the peace was soon broken.
Lucas found out after all! Perhaps he sensed something unusual in her increasingly distant attitude, or maybe the real estate agent leaked information while showing the apartment, or perhaps his all-capable assistant discovered her application to go abroad. In any case, three days before her surgery, Lucas stormed into her apartment like a whirlwind.
At that moment, Claire was sealing the last cardboard box when the door was violently pushed open, slamming against the wall with a loud bang. Lucas stood in the doorway, his face ashen, chest heaving dramatically, clutching in his hand a copy of the abortion appointment slip she had hidden away.
"Claire Wilson!" his voice trembled with extreme anger, his eyes seeming to shoot fire. "How dare you! How dare you get rid of my child!"
He strode to her in a few steps, his tall figure carrying an intense sense of intimidation, and grabbed her wrist with such force that it almost crushed her bones. "Who gave you permission to do this?! And this!"
With his other hand, he slammed several printed papers in front of her—her study abroad application materials. "You're going abroad? Where do you think you're running off to? Is it for that Ethan Guthrie? Let me tell you, don't even think about it!"
Claire was in pain from his grip, but she didn't struggle. She simply raised her eyes and coldly stared at his handsome face that was distorted with rage.
There was no fear in her gaze, no guilt, only a deathly calm.
"Mr. Reed," her voice was like ice, "My womb, my life, apparently none of it requires your approval!"
These words, calm to the point of cruelty, completely ignited Lucas's fury. He suddenly pulled her close, his hot breath hitting her face. "Don't need my approval? Claire Wilson, have you forgotten whose woman you are?! These three years, I've indulged you, but not so you could climb over me and run wild!"
Just then, Claire's phone on the table rang, with "Ethan Guthrie" flashing on the screen. Looking at Lucas's murderous gaze, she suddenly felt a reckless courage. She forcefully broke free from his grip and, right in front of him, pressed the answer button and deliberately turned on the speakerphone.
"Professor Guthrie." Her voice instantly became calm, even carrying a deliberately casual tone.
Ethan's gentle voice came through from the other end: "Dr. Wilson, am I disturbing you? I just wanted to confirm about the materials needed for Stanford..."
"Well, it's about time, and my luggage is almost packed." Claire's gaze never left Lucas's fiery eyes, though her tone grew increasingly natural. "Thank you for helping arrange the temporary accommodation. It saved me a lot of trouble."
"It was nothing. So... I'll see you at the airport? I happen to be dropping off a friend that day too."
"Alright, see you at the airport!"
Those three words, "see you at the airport," were like the spark that finally ignited a barrel of explosives.
Lucas's rationality completely snapped. He grabbed the phone and smashed it violently to the ground! The screen instantly shattered, and the sound abruptly stopped.
"Are you that desperate to run to him?!" His eyes were frighteningly red, jealousy and loss of control making him speak recklessly. "Claire Wilson, I really underestimated you! Acting so high and mighty while you've already lined up your next man! Forget it! You're not stepping foot outside this door today!"
Claire looked at the shattered phone on the ground, then raised her eyes to the man before her who appeared possessed by madness. The last pitiful trace of lingering attachment in her heart completely dissipated. She even gave a slight smile.
"Lucas Reed, you're truly pathetic!"
At the airport,
Claire carried only a simple suitcase, completed her check-in, and walked toward security. She looked as calm as if she were just going on a short trip.
However, just as she was about to queue for security, a figure suddenly blocked her path. Lucas had obviously rushed here in a hurry—his hair slightly disheveled, his suit jacket buttons fastened incorrectly, and his eyes bloodshot. His entire being radiated a frantic energy on the verge of collapse.
"Claire... Claire, let's talk!" He tried to grab her hand, his tone carrying a barely detectable plea, but more dominantly, an uncompromising forcefulness. "Don't go. About the child... we can discuss it. That Ethan Guthrie, he..."
Curious glances were cast from the surrounding crowd.
Claire forcefully shook off his hand, stepping back to create distance between them. Against the background noise of the bustling airport, she raised her head, her gaze as precise and cold as a surgical knife, staring directly into his eyes that were twisted with pain and jealousy.
"Lucas Reed," her voice wasn't loud, but it cut clearly through the noise with a professional, undeniable penetrating power, "Look clearly! Standing before you is Claire Wilson, a licensed psychologist, a living, thinking person with dignity! Not a substitute for Rachel Morgan that you can use for comfort when you need her and casually set aside when you don't!"
Lucas looked as if he'd been struck hard, his face instantly turning pale, his lips trembling, unable to make a sound.
Claire stepped closer, her words sharp as a blade: "What you feel for me isn't love at all! It's simply a classic case of 'Pathological Attachment Projection'! Because you can't accept Rachel Morgan's death, can't process your inner trauma and guilt, you found me—someone who happens to look similar to her, and forcibly projected all your emotions and fantasies about the deceased onto me! What you're afraid of losing isn't me, Claire Wilson; you simply can't bear to see 'Rachel Morgan's shadow' disappear from your world again! My professional knowledge and clinical experience are all telling me, Lucas Reed, that the person who truly needs to face the past and receive psychological treatment is you!"
These words were like ice water poured over his head, like a thunderous wake-up call. Lucas stood frozen, staring at her blankly. In those eyes that were always filled with control and coldness, for the first time appeared enormous, bewildered helplessness and... the panic of being completely seen through.
Every word she said was like a hammer striking his heart, shattering the shell of self-deception he had maintained for so long.
Claire no longer looked at him, resolutely turned around, and handed her boarding pass and documents to the security staff.
Going through the security gate, retrieving her luggage, from beginning to end, she never looked back at the man standing motionless as if his soul had been extracted.
The plane soared into the sky, piercing through the thick layers of clouds. Claire gazed at the gradually shrinking city outside the window, and tears finally silently fell.
But these tears were not for the lost false love, but for herself who was forced to grow up quickly and cut off her shackles with her own hands.
She knew that Lucas, down on the ground, was now experiencing the first real earthquake of his inner world in his life.
And her world was about to welcome a new chapter.
