I looked at Luc Canh Hoai for several seconds.

Then I smiled.

“All right. Let’s go out.”

Perhaps because I agreed too easily, relief appeared in his eyes.

He took me to the restaurant where we had celebrated our first anniversary.

The same private room.

The same table by the window.

Even the flowers were the kind I used to like.

Halfway through dinner, his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and immediately turned it face down.

“Why don’t you answer?”

“Hospital business.”

I took a sip of water.

“Really?”

He avoided my eyes.

Five minutes later, the phone rang again.

This time I saw the name.

Chu Nhuoc Vy.

The daughter of Principal Chu.

His future fiancée.

Luc Canh Hoai stood.

“I have to go back to the hospital. There’s an emergency.”

I almost laughed.

Tomorrow was his engagement ceremony.

What emergency could possibly require the groom to leave his girlfriend tonight?

But I didn’t expose him.

“Go.”

He hesitated.

“Nam Chi, don’t be angry. I’ll make it up to you.”

“No need.”

He misunderstood my words completely.

He bent down, gently touched my hair and left.

I remained at the table until his figure disappeared.

Then I removed the bracelet he had given me on our second anniversary and placed it beside his untouched glass.

That was the last gift of his I still possessed.

The next morning, Nhan An Hospital was unusually lively.

Flowers covered the main lobby.

Red gift boxes had been delivered to several department heads.

Everyone knew Principal Chu’s daughter was getting engaged.

What they didn’t know was that the groom was Luc Canh Hoai.

Until someone posted a photograph in the hospital group.

Luc Canh Hoai stood beside Chu Nhuoc Vy in an expensive suit.

Underneath were four words:

“Congratulations to the newly engaged couple.”

The group exploded.

Within minutes, dozens of colleagues were staring at me.

Everyone in Surgery knew Luc Canh Hoai and I had been together for five years.

A nurse cautiously approached.

“Nam Chi… did you know?”

“Yes.”

She froze.

Before she could say anything else, footsteps sounded behind us.

Luc Canh Hoai had arrived.

He was still wearing the suit from the engagement ceremony.

The moment he saw me, his expression changed.

“Nam Chi.”

I calmly closed my locker.

He grabbed my wrist.

“Come with me.”

I pulled my hand free.

“There is nothing to discuss.”

His voice dropped.

“The engagement is only an arrangement between our families.”

Someone nearby inhaled sharply.

Apparently, he had forgotten we weren’t alone.

He continued quickly.

“My parents forced me. Nhuoc Vy and I don’t have feelings for each other.”

I looked at him.

“Then why didn’t you tell me?”

He fell silent.

That silence was enough.

Because he knew exactly why.

He wanted the Chu family’s connections.

He wanted the marriage his parents approved.

But he also wanted me waiting at home.

He wanted both.

“Nam Chi, give me some time.”

“For what?”

“When everything stabilizes, I’ll explain it to you.”

I laughed softly.

“No.”

His face stiffened.

I removed my hospital identification card and placed it in his hand.

“I resigned yesterday.”

“What?”

His fingers tightened around the card.

“You resigned?”

“Yes.”

“Because of me?”

“No.”

That answer seemed to hurt his pride more than if I had screamed.

I picked up my bag.

“I simply finished what I came here to do.”

He stared at me as if he didn’t understand.

Before he could ask, the hospital director suddenly appeared at the end of the corridor.

Behind him walked several senior administrators.

Their expressions were unusually serious.

“Everyone to the conference hall,” the director announced.

“We have important guests arriving from Beijing.”

A whisper spread through the department.

Even Luc Canh Hoai frowned.

Half an hour later, almost every department head was seated inside the conference hall.

Principal Chu sat in the first row beside his daughter.

When Chu Nhuoc Vy saw Luc Canh Hoai, she smiled and moved a chair closer.

I remained near the back.

Then the doors opened.

My father walked in.

Chairman Tham.

Behind him came my mother and several executives from the Tham family’s medical investment group.

The entire hall stood.

Principal Chu hurried forward.

“Chairman Tham! We didn’t expect you personally.”

My father shook his hand politely.

Then his eyes moved past everyone.

Straight toward me.

His serious expression immediately softened.

“Nam Chi.”

The hall went silent.

I stood.

My mother smiled.

“Why are you standing so far away? Come here.”

I walked down the aisle.

Every step seemed louder than the previous one.

My former colleagues stared at me.

Principal Chu looked confused.

Chu Nhuoc Vy’s smile disappeared.

But the most interesting expression belonged to Luc Canh Hoai.

He looked as though someone had suddenly erased everything he believed about me.

My father placed a small carved case into my hand.

Inside was the Tham family heir’s seal.

“This should have been yours five years ago.”

I closed the case.

The director finally found his voice.

“Chairman Tham… Doctor Nam is…?”

My mother answered proudly.

“Our only daughter.”

Silence.

Then someone dropped a pen.

The sound echoed through the entire hall.

The girl everyone thought came from an ordinary district family…

The doctor they joked was lucky to date Luc Canh Hoai…

Was the sole heiress of the Tham family.

My father turned toward the hospital leadership.

“Nam Chi came here because she wanted to build her career without relying on our name. Now that her training period has ended, she’s returning to Beijing.”

Luc Canh Hoai suddenly stood.

“Nam Chi.”

Everyone looked at him.

He walked toward me.

His face was pale.

“You never told me.”

I looked directly at him.

“I was going to.”

His expression changed.

“When?”

“The day you disappeared to prepare your engagement.”

He stopped.

Behind him, Chu Nhuoc Vy slowly stood.

Principal Chu’s face darkened.

My father looked between us.

“Engagement?”

Luc Canh Hoai opened his mouth.

I spoke first.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Then I turned to my parents.

“Let’s go home.”

My mother took my hand.

But just before we reached the door, the hospital director hurried after us.

“Miss Tham, please wait.”

He held a document.

“There is something you should know before leaving.”

I looked down.

It was an investment agreement.

The Tham family group was preparing to fund Nhan An Hospital’s new surgical research center.

And printed directly beneath the project title was the proposed name of its future director.

Luc Canh Hoai.

His greatest career opportunity had been waiting for approval from my family.

Luc Canh Hoai stared at the document.

Then at the heir’s seal in my hand.

For the first time in five years, the youngest head of Surgery looked genuinely afraid.

But my father didn’t even glance at him.

Instead, he looked at me.

“Nam Chi, you’re the heir now.”

He placed the agreement into my hands.

“You decide whether this project is worth investing in.”

The entire hospital waited for my answer.