For five years of marriage, Emily Smithhad never been intimate with her husband.

All because Harold Anderson, the youngest senior physician, suffered from severe mysophobia.

Harold once said, "I dislike physical contact."

Yet on their fifth anniversary, Emily traveled 7,944 kilometers through grueling journeys to see him.

Only to witness him removing soaked shoes and socks for another woman outside the Edinburgh medical institute.

"Still acting like a child, sweetheart? Can't even take care of yourself?"

Torrential rain drenched Emily as she stood frozen, clutching roses like a drenched chicken.

In the distance, the woman in a tailored suit tilted her head, laughing with Harold.

Emily had never seen Harold show such a tender expression, as if all his icy edges had melted away.

As she spoke, he watched with a soft smile, his gaze never leaving her for an instant.

Six years ago, Emily accidentally rear-ended Harold's car. The moment he stepped out of the driver's seat, she fell for him.

Harold was the top surgeon at the hospital, known for his stern composure. Emily, however, had always been outgoing and excelled at relentless pursuit.

Emily chased him for a full year before they finally got together. Only then did Emily discover how pathologically averse Harold was to physical contact.

In the five years since they got married, they'd only been intimate once. That was when Emily kissed him on the lips.

Harold reacted so violently he ran to the bathroom and threw up. Even though he later explained it was a reflex, not because of her, Emily nursed that hurt for ages.

This time, she came to see Harold because they'd been separated for a year.

A year ago, he'd been sent to the UK to lead an international medical project. As his wife, Emily barely ever got replies to her messages. Only when she asked about his parents would he respond with a few clipped words:

"Thanks for your hard work. I've transferred this month's household allowance."

To maintain their long-distance marriage after a year apart, Emily had planned a surprise for Harold today.

Never did she expect to witness this scene.

After what felt like eternity, Harold finally noticed Emily standing in the rain.

His smile faded slightly as he whispered something gentle to the woman before walking straight toward Emily with his umbrella.

"What are you doing here?" Irritation laced Harold's voice.

Emily handed him the red roses, forcing a smile.

"Happy fifth anniversary."

Before Harold could take them, the woman's voice carried from afar, "Harold, the meeting's starting."

Expressionless, he said to Emily, "Follow me."

Emily froze in place for a long moment before catching up to Harold.

As they approached the unfamiliar woman, she naturally fell into step beside Harold. They walked shoulder to shoulder ahead of Emily.

Whispers of work-related conversations drifted back to Emily. All medical jargon—esoteric terms she couldn't grasp.

But Emily learned this woman was Sophia Brown, clearly familiar with Harold.

Several times Emily tried to speak privately with Harold, only to be interrupted by Sophia's deliberate or accidental interference.

Finally at the conference room entrance, Sophia turned to Emily and suddenly remarked in Spanish, "So this is your wife back home? Doesn't match you at all."

Whether intentional or not, Harold replied in Spanish.

"Matching doesn't matter. As long as it works."

Emily and Harold both assumed she couldn't understand, but five years ago, when pursuing Harold, Emily had taken Spanish classes after learning he spoke the language.

After Sophia entered the conference room first, Harold finally looked at Emily, his tone still holding no warmth.

"I have a meeting. Wait here."

It sounded like he was addressing a complete stranger.

Emily's throat felt dry. "Alright."

Once he disappeared into the conference room, she glanced down at the roses in her arms—already wilted.

Just like her relationship with Harold, sustained by her one-sided devotion for five years, all for nothing.

Emily wiped her rain-soaked face before tossing the unwanted bouquet into the non-recyclable bin nearby.

Emily intended to fly home immediately but decided to wait for Harold to settle things face-to-face. She hadn't expected the wait to stretch two hours.

Drenched clothes clung to her skin as she stood shivering. By the time Harold emerged, her face had turned ghostly pale with bloodless lips.

When Emily tried to speak, others exiting the conference room cut her off.

"Who's this?"

She glanced at Harold.

Getting no response, she stammered through chattering teeth, "I'm Harold's wife."

The crowd froze, stunned.

"Isn't Harold single?"

"Aren't you and Sophia a couple?"

"Right, you've been together since high school. How could..."

Harold calmly stated, "Sophia and I are past tense."

He then briefly introduced Emily.

"This is Emily. We got married five years ago."

The group collectively gasped, murmuring in astonishment. Just then, someone spoke up.

"Let's grab dinner. These long meetings are starving us."

Numbness in her legs kept Emily momentarily still. She could only watch Harold and Sophia walk past, leaving her stranded at the rear.

Emily wasn't sure if it was intentional, but when she opened the Toyota Alphard's door, only the passenger seat remained available.

Harold and Sophia sat in the back row, seemingly discussing the recent meeting. Emily glanced at them before taking the vacant spot.

During the drive to the restaurant, everyone in the car spontaneously conversed in Spanish.

"I thought Sophia and Harold were already married. After all, Harold's confession—'All my life, I will dedicate myself to medicine and to you!'—remains a legend in med school."

"Despite Harold's usual coldness, he punched a professor harassing female students for Sophia during our third year, nearly getting his graduation delayed."

"I still remember them signing body donation pledges together, vowing to stay united in life and death."

Emily heard these words and finally realized that Sophia was Harold's ex-girlfriend...

Since meeting Harold, she had always seen him as gentle and distant, like a glass of lukewarm water, forever bland.

Emily couldn't imagine what he looked like when he confessed to Sophia, or when he fought for her.

Lost in thought, she didn't even notice when they arrived at the restaurant. When Harold's friend came to open the car door for her, he was somewhat surprised.

"Mrs. Anderson, why are your clothes all wet?"

Before Emily could answer, he said to Harold in the back, "Harold, why don't you go to the mall next door and buy Mrs. Anderson a change of clothes? Change before eating, or she might catch a cold."

It wasn't until someone reminded him that Harold realized his wife Emily's clothes had been wet for so long.

He said to Emily, "Wait in the car. I'll get you some clothes."

Everyone in the vehicle stepped out, heading toward the restaurant reservation.

Emily waited alone in the car for fifteen minutes before Harold returned with a luxurious shopping bag. The clothes were expensive, the fabric soft, but they never fit Emily right.

Just like her marriage to Harold—never fit from start to finish.

When Emily changed and got out, the parking lot stood empty.

Her phone lit up with an unread message in Harold's usually silent chat:

"It's Sophia's birthday. I went ahead. Private room A1701."

After five years of marriage, this was the first time Harold had initiated contact with Emily, and the first time he'd sent such a lengthy message.

Emily rode the elevator alone to the 17th floor and found the private room.

Just as she reached for the door, she glimpsed Harold through the crack handing Sophia a bouquet of lily-of-the-valley and an exquisite box.

People inside started teasing.

"Harold, lily-of-the-valley is out of season now. How'd you get it?"

"Come on, you know Harold would fetch stars from the sky or the moon from the sea if Sophia wanted it."

"Seriously though, Harold—if you're still in love with Sophia, why'd you marry that woman just now?"

Through what these people said, Emily learned about Sophia and Harold's past.

They had started dating in high school and remained the envy of their peers all through college.

But the year they graduated, Sophia decided to pursue advanced studies in the UK while Harold chose to stay for his doctoral degree. Due to their diverging paths, Sophia unilaterally ended their relationship.

"We all know you came to Edinburgh for medical research because of Sophia. Since her studying abroad with the professor was just a misunderstanding, and you both still care for each other, why not take this chance to reconcile?"

"Exactly, that abusive ex-husband of Sophia's is already behind bars thanks to you. Nothing stands between you two now."

Later, after Harold completed his doctoral studies, he actually went to England to find Sophia, only to learn she had married someone else. This fairy-tale romance came to an abrupt end.

After returning home, Harold became the youngest full professor thanks to his extraordinary talent. A year later, he met Emily.

Emily pushed open the door to the private room. The large round table inside was laden with an array of dishes that were a feast for the eyes and nose, yet she had no appetite.

After a ten-hour flight and a four-hour taxi ride, compounded by a heavy downpour, she was utterly exhausted.

At the table, everyone naturally overlooked her.

Emily listened as they chatted from their college antics to their current work at the institute. Inevitably, the conversation touched upon Harold and Sophia.

Though they only touched on it briefly, Emily could still sense how passionate and intense their relationship had been. As someone completely uninvolved from start to finish, she felt like an outsider looking in.

Finally, the dinner ended, and Emily followed Harold back to his place in England. It was a studio apartment allocated by the research institute—bright, spotless, and impeccably tidy everywhere.

The only thing that clashed with Harold's reserved and low-key personality was the colorful dreamcatcher hanging by the entrance.

Just then, Harold handed Emily a new pair of slippers.

But her eyes caught another pair nearby—unworn but clearly used, women's slippers. The pattern on them matched Harold's men's slippers perfectly—a matching set.

I've ordered new toiletries online, they'll arrive soon. Have a seat."

Then Harold added thoughtfully, "You barely ate anything earlier, I'll make you some noodles."

His behavior toward Emily was always polite but distant. Even more than with his research institute colleagues.

Watching Harold bustle in the kitchen, Emily drifted to the entryway and took down the dreamcatcher.

Two tiny embroidered lines graced its back: "May Harold have sweet dreams every night – from Sophia."

Emily rehung the dreamcatcher with unchanged expression.

She couldn't define this feeling. Though resolved to let Harold go, seeing these things still brought an uncontrollable pang of sadness. After all, she had loved him for six years.

Exhausted from her long journey, she sank onto the living room sofa. Suddenly, Harold's phone glowed nearby.

From her proximity, she instantly recognized the contact name flashing on screen:

Sophia.

Throughout their five-year marriage, Emily had never touched Harold's phone. Today, she couldn't resist picking it up.

The message from Sophia read:

"If you'd come for me sooner back then, would I be the one sitting beside you now?"

Emily watched the message vanish, revealing Harold's lock screen photo beneath—

That was actually Sophia's back view with a ponytail and graduation gown.

Her husband, the man she married, had actually used his ex-girlfriend's photo as his phone wallpaper for five years.

At this moment, Emily truly realized how superfluous she was in Harold's world.

The clatter of dishes echoed from the kitchen. Emily turned off the phone screen, placed it back on the coffee table, and walked toward the kitchen island as if nothing had happened.

Harold noticed nothing unusual, simply handing her chopsticks.

"Try it. Don't force yourself if it's bad."

Emily took the chopsticks without looking at him, her voice barely audible.

"Can you tell me what happened between you and Sophia?"

Harold answered calmly.

"Sophia was my ex. We dated for eight years and almost got married."

"She wanted to build her career abroad while I chose to stay back home."

Though spoken casually, Emily caught the faint tremor in his usually steady voice.

Emily kept her head down, slurping noodles from her bowl.

"Just that?"

Harold stayed silent.

That night, they lay in bed occupying opposite sides with separate thoughts. Suddenly, Harold reached for Emily's hand.

Emily froze.

Back when they lived together back home, he'd always pulled away whenever she touched him. This was the first time he took the initiative to hold her hand.

Emily thought he would explain everything that happened today, but instead he said, "Emily, I've decided to settle down here."

Emily's hand instantly turned cold.

A year ago, when Harold came here, he told her it was just a one-week business trip. But week after week passed, and he never went back. Meanwhile, Emily had to take care of his parents back home.

Because she always believed Harold would come back, but now he was unilaterally telling her that he wanted to stay here.

She spoke slowly, "It's quite nice, but it's a pity it often rains here. Take good care of yourself."

Harold obviously didn't expect her to agree so quickly.

He tightened his grip on Emily's hand again and said, "Emily, thank you."

Emily didn't answer and closed her eyes.

Late at night, Harold's phone kept vibrating. Emily knew that Sophia had sent him a message. After who knows how long, Harold turned over and got up.

He said softly, "Sophia was abused by her ex-husband and is very afraid of thunder. I'm going to keep her company."

As if to reassure Emily, he added, "I'll be back soon."

Emily didn't answer and pretended to be fast asleep.

But she knew very clearly that this time she wouldn't wait for him to come back.

After Harold left, Emily couldn't sleep at all, alone in this foreign country, unfamiliar city, and strange bed.

She got up, grabbed her charging phone nearby, and booked a 4 a.m. flight.

This was already the fastest available flight home.

Then Emily rolled out of bed. After drying her soaked daytime clothes, she changed out of the ill-fitting outfit Harold had bought her. She folded the clothes neatly and placed them on the sofa.

By then, only an hour and a half remained before takeoff.

Emily glanced at this place she'd occupied for less than four hours, then pulled an exquisite box from her backpack.

This is an Audemars Piguet Royal Oak watch, priced at $240,000.

Over five years of marriage to Harold, she'd scrimped and saved relentlessly, even cashing in half her fixed deposits to afford it.

Originally meant as their fifth anniversary gift, she now used it to punctuate this farcical marriage.

Emily took a blank sheet and wrote:

"Harold, this is my final gift to you. Farewell."

After placing the paper beside the watch, she hoisted her lightened backpack.

The door clicked shut softly as she strode forward.

Without a backward glance.