Chapter 4

I stayed in the medical room for four days. During those four days, Ricardo never came to see me. Though this fact was expected, my heart still felt a pang of bitterness.

In a few more days I could leave here, I consoled myself. In a few more days, Ricardo would never see me again.

Just then, Ricardo walked in, Sofia on his arm. She was wearing that blue diamond ring today, the diamond so large it was almost ostentatious, flashing heart-breaking light on her slender finger.

"Miss Ella." Sofia released Ricardo and walked to my bedside. Her face wore that perfect expression of concern, like a well-rehearsed performance. "We came to see you. How are you feeling?"

"Much better," I said. My gaze moved from her face to Ricardo.

He stood behind her, his hand naturally resting on her shoulder. This posture reminded me of years ago, when he stood beside my sickbed in the same way. The difference was, back then he would hold my hand.

Sofia sat in the chair beside the bed, her legs elegantly crossed. Her gaze didn't leave my face, but I could feel her attention was elsewhere.

"Your scar..." she said softly, her gaze finally landing on the small tattoo below my collarbone visible through the open hospital gown collar. "Will it scar?"

"Probably," I said.

"That's such a shame." Her voice carried false sympathy, then she turned her head to look at Ricardo. "Darling, do you remember the first time we saw Miss Ella's tattoo? You said it was very special."

Ricardo said nothing. His expression was calm, but I knew he was listening.

Sofia stood up and walked to Ricardo's side. Her hand moved to his nape, fingers gently caressing beneath the shirt collar. The gesture was so natural, so intimate, as if she'd done it countless times.

"That tattoo on the back of your neck," her voice softened, tinged with just the right amount of distress, "every time I see it, I think about how it was something you and Miss Ella designed together. A snake coiled around a heart with irises blooming inside... a beautiful design, but it makes me uncomfortable."

She looked up at him, her eyes like those of a frightened little bird.

"It symbolizes a past between you that I don't know about." Her voice grew softer. "It makes me feel insecure."

The medical room fell quiet. I watched Ricardo, waiting for his reaction.

Seven years ago, on that night, I knelt behind him, using a pen to sketch that tattoo design on his skin. The snake represented him, the iris represented me, the heart symbolized the close connection between us. He'd looked at the pattern in the mirror, showing a rare genuine smile. He said this would be our eternal secret, a secret only the two of us knew.

Now Sofia's hand rested on that secret.

Ricardo was silent for a few seconds. Then he pulled out his phone and dialed a number.

"Marco," he said, "get the tattoo artist to the medical room. Now."

He put down the phone and looked at Sofia, his eyes tender. "This way you won't feel insecure."

Those words were like a knife, precisely inserted into the softest place in my chest. I looked at him, trying to find a trace of hesitation in his face, a trace of struggle, even just a moment's reluctance.

But there was nothing. His expression was calm and resolute, as if making a perfectly normal decision.

The tattoo artist arrived twenty minutes later. A young man who was clearly taken aback when he saw the scene in the medical room.

"Boss," he asked carefully, "are you sure you want to do this here..."

"Yes." Ricardo began unbuttoning his shirt.

Sofia helped him remove the shirt, her movements practiced as if she'd done it many times. His back was completely exposed to the air. I could clearly see that tattoo—the snake-coiled heart, the irises blooming within. I remembered every line because I'd designed it myself.

"Use the double bear totem," Sofia said to the tattoo artist, her voice barely containing her delight. "The Rostov family crest. Completely cover the old design."

The tattoo artist looked at Ricardo. Ricardo nodded and sat in the chair.

The sound of the machine starting was particularly harsh in the quiet medical room. When the needle first pierced the skin, Ricardo's back muscles tensed. But he made no sound, only gripping Sofia's hand.

"Does it hurt?" Sofia asked softly, wiping his forehead with tissue where there was no sweat.

"It doesn't hurt," Ricardo said. He looked at her, his eyes focused and tender. "Nothing hurts when I do it for you."

I watched the tattoo on the back of his neck gradually disappear. Black ink bit by bit swallowed the light purple of the irises, the bear's claws covered the snake's body, the Rostov family totem slowly taking shape. That mark symbolizing our seven years together was being completely erased before my eyes.

And on Ricardo's face was no pain, no struggle. Only a calm acceptance, even a kind of satisfaction.

Because he loved her. This realization poured over me like ice water.

The tattoo artist worked quickly. In less than an hour, the old tattoo had completely disappeared, replaced by a brand new double bear totem. The reddened skin was still seeping blood, but the pattern was already clearly visible.

Sofia leaned close to examine it carefully, her face breaking into a brilliant smile.

"Perfect," she said, kissing Ricardo's cheek. "Now it belongs only to me."

Ricardo stood up and put on his shirt. He wrapped his arm around Sofia's waist and kissed her forehead in return.

He erased seven years of our mark right in front of me. For her.