Chapter 845

Lena gave me a quick glance and smiled. “Don’t worry, the baby’s doing great. I’ll check on you again later.”

After leaving my room, Lena headed straight to the director’s office. The moment she stepped inside, her breath caught—Nate was sitting on the couch next to Dr. Warren. But Lena, ever composed, quickly recovered. “Dr. Warren. Professor Neumann.”

The formal title hit Nate like a punch. He wanted to call her Lena, but the name stuck in his throat.

“Dr. Lane, please take a seat,” Dr. Warren said warmly, gesturing to the chair next to Nate.

Lena sat down, calm and professional, while Dr. Warren’s gaze bounced between the two of them, clearly sensing the tension.

“You already know Professor Neumann, so I’ll skip introductions,” Dr. Warren began. “He’s made a groundbreaking breakthrough in fetal cardiac correction during pregnancy, and he’s chosen our hospital as the pilot site. Dr. Lane, you’ll be collaborating closely with him on this project.”

Lena’s heart clenched. She was familiar with Nate’s research—he’d told her about it long ago. At the time, he hadn’t planned to conduct trials in their home country, much less her hospital. Now, here he was. She couldn’t chalk this up to coincidence.

Still, the project was significant, with the potential to save countless lives. It wasn’t just important—it was necessary. Even though working with Nate under the current circumstances—given their breakup—might be complicated, it wasn’t impossible.

“Understood,” Lena said, nodding politely toward Nate. “I’ll do my best to support Professor Neumann’s work.”

Dr. Warren beamed, slapping the table enthusiastically. “Good, good! Dr. Lane, I’ll leave Professor Neumann in your capable hands.” Standing, he added, “I’ve got other matters to attend to. Dr. Lane, please help Professor Neumann get settled and ensure the project moves forward smoothly.”

With that, he left the room, leaving Lena and Nate alone.

Silence stretched between them until Nate finally broke it. “Lena, I’m back.”

She didn’t respond, her calm expression unwavering. Nate’s voice grew tighter. “I sent you messages. You didn’t reply to any of them.”

“We’ve separated,” she said, her tone crisp and professional. “What’s in the past is in the past. I’ll work with you for the sake of the project, but I expect you to keep everything strictly professional.”

Her words were sharp, cutting, but Nate wasn’t surprised. Part of him had expected her to assign the project to someone else entirely. The fact that she hadn’t spoke volumes about her dedication—and her strength.

Still, he couldn’t help but wish for immediate forgiveness, even though he knew better. These things took time, and he was prepared to wait. He wasn’t discouraged. He was here now, and they’d have plenty of time together. He’d earn her forgiveness, piece by piece, until the hurt finally faded.

“Alright,” Nate said softly.

“Do you have anything else to discuss? If not, I need to get back,” Lena replied, her expression perfectly composed.

But beneath her calm exterior, her emotions churned. Nate had been her first love, the one who consumed her youth. Pretending indifference wasn’t easy, but she clung to it like armor.

“I’ll walk you back,” Nate offered, his tone practical. “We can discuss the research on the way.”

As they walked, Nate explained more about the project—its successes abroad, how it had already changed lives.

“This procedure is highly advanced and thoroughly tested,” he reassured her. “You don’t need to worry.”

“As expected from you—everything you touch is a masterpiece,” Lena said flatly.

Nate smiled, a little self-conscious. “Are you mocking me?”

“Do I look like someone who would mock you?” Lena replied, glancing at him.

Seeing him now, after months apart, felt surreal. He looked almost the same, and the familiarity wrapped around her like no time had passed at all. But Nate’s sharp eyes caught the faint scar on her neck. His smile vanished, replaced with concern. “Lena, what happened to your neck?”

His hand moved toward her instinctively, fingertips stopping just short of the scar. Before he could touch her, a low, icy voice cut through the air.

“Twinkle.”