Chapter 1: A Taste of Fate
Lydia sat by the window of her hospital room, staring at the world she felt she never truly belonged to. The city outside was alive—bustling cars, neon lights flickering in the dusk, couples holding hands, laughter echoing from street corners. It was a world filled with joy, dreams, and possibilities. But for her, life had been nothing but pain and hospital beds.
She had spent years fighting cancer, enduring treatment after treatment, each one draining the life out of her rather than restoring it. She was exhausted—exhausted of being the fragile girl, the patient, the one always watched over with pitiful eyes. If life was going to take her, she at least wanted one good memory before she left.
Her last wish was simple: to taste the finest French cuisine in the city. For once, she wanted to feel like a normal girl, to indulge in something that didn't remind her of IV drips and bland hospital meals. When the hospital finally approved her request, she felt a flicker of something she hadn't felt in a long time—excitement.
Dressed in a simple but elegant cream-colored dress, she arrived at the grand French restaurant, Le Château de Lumière. The place was exquisite—golden chandeliers draped from the ceiling, the scent of fresh bread and exotic spices lingering in the air. Waiters in pristine uniforms moved gracefully between tables, serving dishes that looked like pieces of art.
Lydia found a corner table and took a deep breath, relishing the moment. The waiter approached, and she carefully picked her dish. Tonight, she wasn't just a girl fighting cancer—she was simply Lydia, a girl enjoying life.
As she waited, she noticed a man sitting at the table across from her. He was impeccably dressed in a tailored black suit, exuding an air of power and cold detachment. He ate with precision, every movement refined. But there was something about him that made Lydia uneasy—a sharpness in his gaze, a presence that demanded attention.
Her meal arrived, a masterpiece of delicate flavors and artistic presentation. She picked up her fork, ready to savor her wish come true. But before she could take a bite, something utterly shocking happened.
The man, without warning, reached over, grabbed the sleeve of her dress, and wiped his mouth with it as if it were a napkin.
For a moment, Lydia sat frozen in disbelief. Then, the shock turned into rage.
"Excuse me?! What the hell do you think you're doing?!" she shouted, her voice cutting through the elegant atmosphere of the restaurant.
The man barely spared her a glance. Instead, he reached into his wallet, pulled out a crisp stack of bills, and placed them against her chest. "Buy yourself another dress. That one disgusts me."
Gasps rippled through the restaurant. Lydia's face burned with fury. She had been disrespected before, but this? This was another level of arrogance.
"You—you think you can just throw money at me and solve everything? Who do you think you are?!" she fumed, standing up so fast that her chair scraped against the marble floor.
The other customers had stopped eating, their eyes locked on the spectacle unfolding before them. But the man remained unfazed. His icy gaze met hers as he leaned back in his chair, completely unbothered.
"I own this restaurant. And I don't tolerate disruptions," he said flatly.
Lydia's breath caught. The manager? This smug, arrogant, heartless man was in charge here?
Before she could respond, he signaled to the security guards standing nearby. "Escort her out."
The guards moved toward her, their expressions conflicted but obedient. Lydia's heart pounded. She had only wanted one night of happiness—just one—and it was being stolen from her by this man's cruelty.
As the guards reached her, a sudden wave of dizziness crashed over her. Her vision blurred, her legs wobbled, and before she could utter another word, the world around her faded to black.
The last thing she heard was the collective gasp of the customers and the sharp call of someone yelling her name.
—
When Lydia opened her eyes, she was back in the sterile white walls of the hospital, the beeping of machines filling the air. The moment she tried to move, a gentle but firm hand pressed her back down.
"You shouldn't move yet," a nurse said softly.
Lydia blinked, trying to adjust. And then she saw him—the same man from the restaurant, his perfect suit slightly disheveled, standing by the doorway with an unreadable expression.
Her chest tightened with anger. "You—why are you here? Haven't you humiliated me enough?"
The nurse, seeing Lydia's distress, turned to the man and glared at him. "You should be ashamed of yourself. She's been fighting cancer for years, and she only wanted one nice evening. And what did you do? You crushed it. She has four years left to live, and this is how you treat her?"
The room fell into silence.
The man's expression flickered for the briefest moment—something almost imperceptible breaking through his cold demeanor.
Four years.
Lydia watched as his gaze lowered slightly, his hands clenched into fists. For the first time that night, he looked... affected.
But it didn't matter. She didn't need his pity.
Tears stung her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "Get out," she whispered.
The man hesitated.
"I said get out!" she screamed, her voice cracking.
Without another word, he turned on his heel and left the room.
Lydia's heart pounded as she lay back against the pillow, closing her eyes.
What had she ever done to deserve this?
And why did a part of her feel like this wasn't the last time she'd see him?