Henceforth Divided by Light

"Is it serious?" From the doctor's expression, Emma Brown could somewhat guess the answer. "It's not too late for chemotherapy," the doctor said, looking at the report. Emma Brown thought for a moment, "Just prescribe me some medication, please. Chemotherapy is too painful." The doctor looked at her calm expression and frowned slightly, "It's better to discuss this with your family first." Emma Brown nodded, "I know, but I have no family." Family? Steve Moore? Discuss her condition with him? Emma Brown could almost imagine Steve Moore's expression, coldly saying, "Leukemia? Do you think I would believe that?" Leaving the hospital, Emma Brown wrapped her coat tightly around herself. It was an unbelievably cold day. Returning home, she stood in the vast room, like a silent ghost. After a while, she turned around and picked up her clothes to head to the bathroom. Warm water cascaded down her snow-white neck. Suddenly, she noticed a couple of drops of bright red blood falling onto the bathroom floor, gradually fading until they were transparent. Emma Brown stared for a moment, dried herself off, and left the bathroom. She poured the medicine from her pocket into a small bottle on the table, which had uneven marks carved into it by Steve Moore. Back then, she was the young Miss Brown, and he was the young Mr. Moore. They were both from prominent families and of similar age. She quickly fell for the handsome young man. "Emma Brown, keep this. It's one of a kind," he had said without the shyness of an ordinary youth, but with the pride of being the young master of the Moore family. She caressed the marks and murmured, "The three words 'Steve Moore,' aren't they one of a kind?" Emma Brown looked out the window, recalling their wedding day. She timidly entered the bridal chamber, only to be met with Steve Moore's cold and icy words, "Get out, Emma. It turns out you're no different from those other women." That night, Emma Brown discovered that her grandfather's hard work to secure her happiness was nothing more than a means to save the Brown family from a crisis in this man's eyes. Emma Brown sighed deeply, and as she was about to take her medicine according to the doctor's orders, the door creaked open, and a man with a cold aura entered. Emma Brown looked at Steve Moore in surprise, feeling as though they were worlds apart. The last time he had come home was a month ago. Steve Moore's expression remained unchanged as he glanced at the white pills in her hand. Without saying a word, he entered his study. In a short time, he emerged with a folder, seemingly ready to leave again. Unable to control herself, Emma grabbed his sleeve and said, "Steve, can you stay with me?" "Stay with me for my last days, please?" Steve stopped, and his indifferent eyes lingered on her emaciated figure for a moment. When did Emma become so thin? He then looked away. Her condition was none of his concern. Steve shook off Emma's hand with a bit of force, "Stay with you? On what grounds?" Emma was taken aback by his question and suddenly wondered if Steve would react differently if he knew about her terminal illness. "Steve, I went to the hospital today..." Emma had just started speaking when the phone rang, interrupting her. Steve picked up the call, his voice softer than ever before, "What's wrong?" Emma clearly heard the delicate feminine voice on the other end. The only person who could make Steve act like this was Lily Smiths. Thinking of this, Emma's heart ached. "Will you come back tonight? I'm a bit tired." "Be good, I'll be back soon." Steve said before hanging up and walking out the door without even glancing at Emma. "Steve, I went to the hospital today and the doctor said it's incurable," Emma stubbornly spoke to the empty room, finishing her earlier sentence. The surroundings were silent, and the only response she received was the sound of wind and snow blowing outside, brushing past the windowsill, as if someone were sobbing.