21 The Truth

Gemma's POV.

The Christmas presents are still piled on the table, so I put them away in the storage room. As I lower my head, I notice a photo album.

Curiosity gets the best of me, and I open it. Inside are Luke's graduation photos. The background shows Columbia University's buildings, and there are also pictures of him with friends.

One of the girls is very beautiful.

Just as I'm getting absorbed in the photos, Luke suddenly appears at the doorway.

His face is shadowed due to the backlight, so I can't make out his expression.

His voice is slightly low, "Is it taking you that long to organize things?"

I smile, "I accidentally discovered my boyfriend's youth."

I turn to look at him, "Why did you put something so meaningful in the storage room?"

"My youth isn't worth remembering." He pulls the album from my hands, placing it back on the shelf. Then he abruptly changes the subject, "Shall we go to the bedroom?"

I'm startled, not understanding what he means, "For what?"

"To do something fun." He suddenly scoops me up in his arms.

"We just did that last night—"

"How else can I prove to you that my youth is still alive?"

I chuckle, "You men have the most baffling competitive streak."

He tosses me onto the bed and pounces on me.

Luke seems particularly passionate today. Normally, he isn't a man who enjoys sweet-talking during sex, but as he enters me, he extends a hand and covers my eyes.

His body is burning hot, but his hand feels slightly cold.

I quickly adjust, and our embrace makes our temperatures merge.

"Do you like me?" Luke suddenly whispers in my ear.

"Of course, the whole world can see that," I reply breathlessly.

He keeps moving in and out of my body, our sweat mingling.

"Then can you make a vow?" At a certain moment, he stops abruptly.

"What?"

"I want you to say that you'll never leave me." Luke's voice is unusually calm.

I pull his hand away from my eyes.

His eyes reflect only me, beads of sweat dot his nose and forehead, and a few strands of his bangs are damp, sticking to his skin.

"Why—" Why should I say that?

But before I can even finish the first word, Luke suddenly lowers his head and kisses my lips.

"Say it with me: You swear you'll never leave me," Luke murmurs in my ear, entering me again.

All my doubts dissolve with this action. My passage instinctively tightens around him.

I follow Luke, gasping but repeating every word without hesitation, "I swear, I will never leave you."

Luke finally seems satisfied. He sucks on my earlobe and neck, leaving marks all over my body, so much so that the next day, I'm forced to wear a turtleneck sweater.

Today, I'm going to NYU Langone Hospital for a follow-up on my eyes.

Two months ago, the hospital called me for this, but I kept delaying it because of work. If I wait any longer, it'll be next year.

Luke drives me there, and while the doctor runs vision tests and slit-lamp exams, Luke stands beside me, holding my winter coat and bag. When the doctor asks about my medical history and gives me instructions, Luke listens more attentively than I do, even taking out his phone to jot down notes.

My right eye is fine, and the doctor says my cornea has healed well. He prescribes artificial tears, and Luke takes the prescription to the pharmacy.

"Your boyfriend is really good to you," the doctor says after he leaves.

"Yeah, I didn't expect to be this lucky."

I walk out of the exam room and wait for Luke in the hallway. Ten minutes pass, but he hasn't returned.

I step out of the ophthalmology department, walk through the corridors, and head to the pharmacy to find him.

However, as I pass the garden, I see someone I never expected: Mrs. Ramos.

Luke is standing in the garden, talking to her.

They know each other.

My mind suddenly goes blank. From where I'm standing, I have a perfect view of Mrs. Ramos's face in profile at a 45-degree angle. Though she's aged, her nose is still high and her mouth curls slightly as she speaks. Her jawline forms a curved arc, beautiful like a piece of art—just like the face of a girl in Luke's graduation album.

Or rather, the girl's face resembles Mrs. Ramos's.

I walk over mechanically.

Mrs. Ramos turns her head and sees me too.

Today, she's different—her eyes are bright, like a rose on the verge of wilting that's revived by rain.

"Gemma!" She hugs me, her voice trembling with joy. "I'm pregnant!"

"Really? Congratulations." My hand lingers in midair before I slowly pat her back.

I step back, glancing at her stomach. Her coat is thick, so I can't tell.

"I thought I'd never have my own child in this lifetime. I just found it out today," she says, clearly excited.

I smile, "Where is Mr. Ramos? He must be thrilled too."

As we talk, Luke's gaze never leaves me.

But I keep looking at Mrs. Ramos.

"He went to get my prescription. I'm waiting for him here," she suddenly remembers Luke's presence and introduces him, "This is Luke, Mary's college friend."

I nod, "I know."

"You know each other?" Mrs. Ramos's eyes widen in surprise.

"Gemma is my—" Luke's voice is a bit hoarse.

"Colleague," I cut him off with a smile. "We're coworkers, boss and subordinate."

It starts snowing.

The snow is light, but the wind stings my face. My boots crunch on the snow.

My mind is a mess, frozen into a chaotic, solid mass in the cold air.

I tell myself this can't be real.

But all the moments between Luke and me flood my heart.

I remember—I was the one who initiated the relationship. I was always the one being proactive.

Luke never did anything. It was me who stubbornly pursued him.

Luke follows close behind me, "Gemma, listen to me—"

"Shut up."

I keep walking, unsure of where I'm going.

I get to the roadside and try to hail a cab, but in the snow, all the passing taxis are full.

"Gemma, let's go home and talk, okay?"

Luke drove us here, and his car is parked nearby.

"It's too cold. Let's go back first."

I continue waving for a cab, but none stop.

I turn to look at him, staring into his eyes.

So many things rush to my lips, but in the end, they condense into a single question. "That night, you said, 'Because you're Gemma Dawson.' What did you mean?"

Luke's lips press tightly together.

I take a deep breath of cold air, feeling a chill in my stomach. "Before we slept together, you said it was because I'm Gemma Dawson. But the truth is, it wasn't because I'm the one unique woman in the world for you. It's because my eye carries Mary's cornea, isn't it?"

"You and Mary were a couple?"

"I guess the day of Mary's accident was your birthday, wasn't it?"

"You were devastated, and your birthday became the day you least wanted to remember. You need alcohol to forget it."

"That night, I was unlucky. I was shameless. I went to you and threw myself at you."

"You opened the door. You saw me, and you thought of Mary."

"So, you slept with me."

"When you sobered up, you regretted it. You're not a good person, but you're not heartless enough to completely shirk responsibility. You regretted using me. You felt guilty, so your attitude toward me changed. You bought me my favorite food, helped me escape my ex-boyfriend's control, and helped me move... none of it was because you fell in love with me. You were... compensating me. That's all."

The scattered pieces fall together, revealing the truth.

As I speak, my voice gets lower and lower, like something is stuck in my throat.

My vision becomes blurry.

Luke walks toward me and hugs me tightly. "I love you, Gemma."

I love you.

The most beautiful love words in the world.

But in this moment, they become daggers piercing my heart, turning into my deepest humiliation.

He hasn't denied a single one of my suspicions.

So does he love me for who I am, or does he love the cornea of his ex-girlfriend that resides in my eye?

From beginning to end, I'm just a vessel, carrying all his longing for Mary.