She hated saying goodbye, but she knew it was necessary for better reunions in the future.

They were destined to be best friends, but their bond was shattered by worldly emotions, leaving them as strangers in the end.

"James, I hope you can be happy. I hope the next time we meet, you'll bring that happiness with you." Freya smiled at him. The mist in her eyes dispersed, leaving them as clear as a tranquil lake. Too beautiful to disturb.

James's heart overflowed with sorrow. His happiness had always been her, and only her.

Sadly, he couldn't confess or cross the line because she was his uncle's woman.

He buried this love deep in his heart.

Despite feeling overwhelmed, he managed to keep his emotions in check, not wanting to make her uncomfortable or put any more strain on their relationship.

But that didn't mean he had thrown in the towel. He'd still drop everything if Freya ever needed him again and come running.

Freya had no idea that James's mind was racing.

"Let's go visit Mr. Gunther's grave."

Mr. Gunther was her mentor. Without him, there would be no Freya today. As her tutor, he had passed on all his skills to her.

But in Freya's heart, he was more than her father.

A drizzle continued and the air was bone-chilling.

James had been here earlier. The surroundings of the grave were tidy, with a fresh bouquet of lilies placed nearby.

The tombstone showed a lively man with sparkling, bright kind eyes and white hair.

Freya knelt on both knees.

"Sir, I'm here to see you."

Her delicate hands gently caressed the photo on the tombstone, the mist in her eyes thickening.

"I've been unfilial, only visiting you once a year. I've let you down, Sir. I've been doing very well these past few years and used the medical skills you taught me to save many people."

"I've opened many clinics and everyone knows Dr. Lexi. But I've chosen to retire into seclusion. Would you blame me?"

Her voice was hoarse, her mind filled with memories of learning medical skills with her mentor.

She remembered vividly, she couldn't even distinguish between different herbs at the beginning. Then Mr. Gunther took her up the mountain and taught her to differentiate them individually.

Freya also remembered how he used himself as a guinea pig for her medical trials to help her progress.

She was once prescribed the wrong medicine, causing Mr. Gunther to suffer from stomach issues for several days.

Her mentor had lived a lonely life. He had lost his wife and children when he was young and had never remarried. He had devoted himself to the study of medical skills.

When he passed away at the age of sixty-nine, he entrusted all his possessions to her, fearing she would suffer.

Among them was a medical book that recorded the treatment methods for various complex and complicated diseases.

It was this book that helped Freya's medical skills skyrocket. In just a few years, she became an independent doctor and made a name for herself.

She owed everything to her mentor.

Sadly, she hadn't had the chance to repay him before he passed away.

He had once said that a doctor could cure everyone but not themselves.

Freya knew that Mr. Gunther had never remarried because of his deceased wife. They had vowed eternal love for each other in their lifetime.

His last wish was to be buried beside his wife and children.

Freya looked at the tombstone beside her, where her mentor's beloved wife and their children rested. She bowed as a sign of respect.

Tears filled her eyes as she felt uncomfortable and wanted to cry for no apparent reason.

"You were right, Sir. We can cure other people's diseases, but we can't cure the wounds in our hearts."

Freya murmured. Her body was drenched by the drizzling rain, feeling chilled to the bone.

After bowing to Mr. Gunther again, she gently rose and stared intensely at the man in the photo.

James approached with the umbrella over her head, but Freya placed it on the tombstone.

"What time will you leave tomorrow? I'll see you off."

Mr. Gunther was her mentor, but James was the beacon lighting her dark path.

Even if they couldn't be lovers, their bond wouldn't change with time.

He wanted to brush away the wet hair stuck to her pale cheeks but quickly retracted his hand.

"No need. I'll be leaving early in the morning."

"Then ... have a safe trip!"

Freya's voice was hoarse, flooded with emotions that culminated in one sentence.

James's heart ached, but he still maintained his usual gentle smile. "Can you give me a goodbye hug?"

Without any hesitation, Freya stepped forward and hugged him.

What's wrong with a hug between friends before parting ways?

Her relationship with James had long gone beyond that of ordinary friends, more like family.

The warmth of the woman in his arms was overwhelming. James greedily absorbed her warmth, realizing that the naive girl he once knew had grown up.

He had waited for her for many years, planning a future with her.

And yet, they still ended up passing each other by.

Life seemed so unfair to him!

When Freya felt the guy shaking in her arms, she gently let go of him and smiled as brightly as the sun.

"If he treats you poorly, I'll still come back for you no matter what."

James's eyes were deep, his tone unwaveringly firm.

Freya clenched her fist, showing grief in her eyes as she looked down.

However, it just lasted a second. She then looked up and lightly punched his shoulder. "Come on, it's freezing."

James took off his suit jacket and draped it over her slender figure before they left the cemetery side by side.

The rain kept falling.

Royal Garden Mansion.

Bradley sat on the sofa in the living room.

His face was cold and expressionless as he held his phone. His dark eyes were as dark as ink.

"Search the entire city. Find her for me."

His voice was fierce, carrying a chilling frost that instantly silenced the entire hall.

Frederick waited beside him, not daring to speak. He knew Bradley was angry because of Freya's departure.

Still, he dared not ask questions because Mr. Bradley was in a terrible mood.

Bradley ended the call, then frantically dialed the familiar number repeatedly.

But the other end only reminded him that the phone he called was dead.

He smashed the phone in a rage.

She was avoiding him, likely aware of his secret.

He had already decided to be honest with her. Why couldn't she wait for him?

A searing pain tore through his heart like an invisible hand was ripping his organs apart. Fear of loss gripped him, and he ran out into the rain, heedless of the downpour.