Unveiled: The Survivor's Triumph

I forced myself to look away, twisted open the drink in my hand, and took a sip to hide my embarrassment.

A girl suddenly rushed up to me, saying excitedly, "Ethan, is the drink good?"

I glanced at the drink in my hand, realizing it might have been the one she handed me earlier. My gaze inadvertently swept across her chest. The girl was wearing a T-shirt that was more form-fitting than the school uniform, and her bust was a size larger than Emily's. But I didn't feel the same blush and heartbeat as before and quickly looked away.

"Thanks! It's good!" I said.

I didn't play in the second half, but our team still won. Emily stomped her foot, and seeing her frustrated look, I couldn't help but laugh.

After the basketball game, there was a 2-mile race, and to my surprise, I saw Emily at the starting line. She was actually participating in the 2-mile endurance race, which surprised me. I stood by the track, wanting to see how her small frame would complete the 2 miles.

At the start of the race, many people overtook Emily, but she wasn't in a hurry, maintaining her own pace steadily. Slowly, she overtook one person after another. By the last two laps, she was struggling, her face flushed red. I couldn't help but feel anxious for her, cheering her on in my heart.

When Emily crossed the finish line, Emily finally couldn't hold on and collapsed to the ground. At that moment, I didn't hesitate for a second and rushed over, picking her up and heading towards the infirmary.

Several teachers and classmates gathered around. The teacher asked me to hand Emily over to them, but I didn't let go. I thought to myself, 'Emily couldn't be in trouble!'

I carried her into the infirmary and laid her on the bed. She wasn't completely unconscious, her eyes half-open as if she wanted to say something but didn't have the strength.

The doctor immediately examined Emily, saying she was exhausted, and quickly gave her some water and medication, and started an IV. She must have been very tired and finally fell asleep.

I stood by the bed, watching her peaceful sleeping face. Her long eyelashes drooped, occasionally trembling slightly, as if she was having a bad dream. Her hand with the IV needle was outside the blanket, looking pitifully thin. Seeing her like this, I quietly felt a growing sense of pity.

I didn't leave until the IV was almost finished. She moved slightly, as if about to wake up, and I quickly left the infirmary. Standing outside the window, I paused, looking in through the window. Seeing her open her eyes, I finally left. The next morning, I was hanging out across from Broadway Alley, waiting. Emily came out with her backpack, looking like she was back to her usual self.

I trailed behind her, watching as she greeted every teacher and classmate she passed. Benjamin handed her some milk and eggs, and she smiled, thanking him.

Not long after that, my world came crashing down. One day in class, the teacher called me out and told me something had happened at home. I rushed to the hospital, but by the time I got there, Cindy was already on the brink. She tried to say something, but no words came out, just tears streaming down her face.

Cindy couldn't let go of me. I saw it in her eyes and those tears. She passed away, full of worry.

Cindy had always been there for me, taking care of me. She'd been sick for a long time, but I never thought it would take her life. Her sudden death hit me hard. I looked at Victor, who stood by the bed with a calm expression.

I had no idea what he was feeling. Was he heartbroken? Or was he relieved? Had he been waiting for this day, tired of having a sick person at home, tired of Cindy's constant coughing?

For me, without Cindy, home lost all meaning. During the funeral, I heard from neighbors that on the day Cindy died, Victor brought Linda into our home, and not long after, Cindy was rushed to the hospital.

I started to think Cindy's death wasn't so simple. I confronted Victor, but he denied everything. When I pushed him, he said Cindy had a sudden attack and couldn't breathe. Later, Martin told me Cindy's bronchial atrophy was the main cause of her sudden suffocation. But I believed Victor bringing Linda home had triggered it, angering Cindy and causing her attack. I thought Martin knew this too, so after Cindy's death, he became colder towards Victor.

I was done with Victor and ran away from home in a fit of rage. I started hanging out with classmates who skipped school, spending time in internet cafes, playing cards, drinking, and getting into fights. I didn't want to be the good student with perfect grades and behavior anymore; it was too exhausting.

My broken home left me shattered. I just wanted to completely fall apart.

Victor eventually tracked me down and dragged my drunken self back home. When I sobered up, I found myself back in my room, with Victor sitting by my bed.

Surprisingly, he wasn't angry. For the first time, he spoke to me sincerely. He said he understood my sadness over losing Cindy, that he would step up as a father, and that he would quit drugs. He seemed so genuine that I actually believed him. But a month later, Victor brought Linda and Richard home and announced that Richard was his son and had changed his last name to match his own.

Suddenly, I felt like an outsider in my own home. Richard acted like he owned the place, always making a mess.

One day, I couldn't take it anymore and argued with him in the living room. Out of nowhere, he grabbed a fruit knife from the coffee table and stabbed me. I thought he was bluffing, but he really did it, right in the stomach.

Victor and Linda were home at the time and were shocked. Victor wanted to rush me to the hospital, and I could see a trace of worry in his eyes. But his concern couldn't heal the wound in my heart. I pushed him away and ran out, clutching my wound.

I found Martin. I didn't want to burden him, but he was the only relative who truly cared for me. I had no one else to turn to.

Martin helped me patch up my wound, cursing Victor the whole time. After that, he took me in, and the home I had known for over a decade was completely given to them. Living with Martin, I finally found a bit of the happiness someone my age should have.

My first guitar was a gift from Martin. Even though he didn't support me getting into music, he still made it happen. At that time, my outlook on life was pretty twisted. I thought, 'If Dad can live so freely when he should be responsible, why do I have to live such a strict and exhausting life when I should be carefree?'

So from then on, I changed a lot. I played music, grew my hair long, and went wild with a group of friends, living life to the fullest every day.

During holidays, Victor would occasionally come to Martin's house to take me back for a few days, probably to avoid public scrutiny. After all, with Cindy gone, what would people say if he didn't want me?

I didn't want to go back, but I couldn't be completely heartless. After all, blood ties couldn't be severed.

Linda was a master at pretending, acting like the perfect wife and mother in front of Victor, and outwardly treating me very well. Richard also became slick, treating me kindly in front of Victor, probably coached by her.

When Cindy was around, Victor didn't care much about me, but now he started to. He said playing music wasn't a proper job. The more he said that, the more I wanted to do it.

In those reckless teenage years, I made a group of friends and did everything he thought was inappropriate, just to make him angry as my form of revenge.

Looking back, my actions were childish, but at the time, I was serious, seriously using this childish way to get back at Victor.

I didn't want to follow his guidance; I wanted to do things my way. Because of the absurd things he did, he had long lost his authority in my eyes. I felt his values and outlook on life were flawed, and the direction he pointed me in wasn't necessarily right. What Victor thought was wrong wasn't necessarily wrong.

I formed a band with a few friends, and my cousin Jason was the drummer. After starting college, he became very busy, working part-time in his spare time, not only as a waiter in a café but also taking on several tutoring jobs. I knew Jason was doing it to help Emily.

Jason was gentle and unassuming, doing everything quietly. Although he never said anything, I understood his feelings. He must have liked Emily, otherwise, why would Jason have cried and refused to move?

I was the least qualified person to appear in front of Emily. So, I tried not to see her and even tried to accept the pursuits of other girls. During that time, I probably looked like a playboy to others, dating several girls of all types. But I knew that with them, I never felt that heartbeat.

That feeling I had when I saw Emily on the basketball court, that blush and heartbeat, I wouldn't forget for a long, long time. Later, with so many girls, that feeling never came back.

To others, I seemed carefree and easygoing every day. In reality, I was like a bird constantly flying in the air, very tired, wanting to find a place to rest but unable to find a perch.novelbin

So I fell in love with cycling. I liked to carry my guitar, ride my bike to the suburbs, to the mountains, find a quiet place, and play and sing alone. One time, I met Fiona.