Frozen Heart: Dreams You'll Never Reclaim

The first thing I did at my parents' funeral was push my husband of seven years, Julian Lawson, off a ten-meter-high balcony in front of all our relatives and friends.

As Julian plummeted, his eyes locked on me, filled with shock and pain, with a flicker of stunned disbelief:

"Vivian... why..."

The memorial service descended into chaos, everyone screaming in terror at the horrifying scene.

Julian was rushed to the emergency room, and his childhood friend Serena Quinn, her eyes rimmed red, immediately called the police.

I was quickly taken away by the police.

However, just three days later, I was released without charge.

Outside the detention center, Julian sat in a wheelchair, his legs in casts, still trembling slightly.

His voice was hoarse beyond recognition, but carried a cautious, ingratiating tone:

"Vivian, was it cold in there? Serena was just being childish when she called the police. Don't be mad at her."

I sneered at him. "You really are hard to kill—a ten-meter fall and you still survived."

Hearing my words, Julian Lawson's heart clenched violently, and his eyes burned so much he almost burst into tears.

"Vivian, I know you hate me. I didn't make it to our parents' car accident. No one feels more pain than I do..."

...

"Pain?" I stared at Julian, pale-faced in his wheelchair, and let out a cold laugh.

"Julian, are you hurting because you didn't get to watch my parents take their last breaths with your own eyes?"

Julian's whole body trembled.

He lifted his head, his eyes bloodshot, his voice thick with pleading.

"Vivian, don't say that. My phone was dead that day. I really didn't know Mom and Dad had an accident on the highway. If I'd known, I would've risked my life to get there!"

Looking at his seemingly tender expression, I only felt a wave of nausea.

"Phone dead?" I repeated those two words.

I pulled my phone from my pocket, opened an audio file, and turned the volume up to max.

On the open ground outside the detention center, the recording of the emergency call automatically dialed by the car system at the time of my parents' crash began to play.

"Julian! Help! We were hit by a truck on the ring road expressway. Your mom is stuck in the passenger seat and can't get out. The car is leaking fuel. Call the police quickly..."

In the recording, my father's voice was raw with desperation, underscored by the sound of metal scraping and my mother's faint moans.

Julian Lawson's face instantly turned pale. He stared at my phone, his lips trembling violently.

The recording continued, but the voice that came through the phone was not Julian's. Instead, it was a sweet, coquettish female voice, tinged with impatience.

"Oh, how annoying, Uncle. Julian is wearing his VR goggles and watching the aurora with me in the virtual pod right now. He can't hear you."

"You poor relatives are such a bother, always calling to ask for money. Don't disturb our date."

Then came the beeping sound of the call being ruthlessly hung up.

Julian Lawson was stunned, his entire body frozen in the wheelchair.

His eyes widened, his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, and he muttered to himself while shaking his head frantically:

"No, it can't be. Serena told me it was just a telemarketing call..."

"A telemarketing call?" I stepped forward, staring into his eyes.

"Julian Lawson, when my parents were burned alive in that car, you were watching a virtual aurora with your childhood sweetheart. And now you're telling me you're more heartbroken than anyone?"

Tears streamed down Julian's face. He frantically reached out a hand, trying to grab the hem of my clothes:

"Vivian, I'm sorry. I really didn't know Serena answered the call. I was in the pod at the time—I couldn't hear anything..."

I took half a step back, avoiding his touch.

"Don't touch me. You disgust me."

Just then, a Maybach slowly pulled up in front of us.

The car door opened, and Serena Quinn stepped out in a white dress, her eyes slightly reddened.

She was holding a blanket as she hurried over to Julian Lawson's side, draping it over his leg in the cast.

"Julian, it's windy out here and your leg's still injured. Don't catch a chill."

After saying this, she turned her head and looked at me timidly:

"Vivian, you're finally out. For the past three days, Julian has been so worried about you he couldn't even eat, and the injury to his leg has gotten worse."

She bit her lower lip, continuing to speak with a pitiful expression.

"What happened that day was really a misunderstanding. I thought it was a scam call at the time—I didn't mean to hang up. I'm also very sad about what happened to Uncle and Auntie..."

I looked at her nauseatingly innocent face, raised my hand, and without hesitation slapped her across the face.

With a sharp crack, Serena Quinn was knocked sideways, and five finger marks instantly appeared on her cheek.

She covered her face as tears streamed down:

"Vivian, you hit me?"

Julian Lawson came to his senses and instinctively shielded Serena Quinn behind him:

"Vivian, what are you doing? Serena has severe depression. You can't provoke her like this!"

Watching Julian instinctively protect her, I was completely done with him:

"Julian Lawson, are you protecting a murderer who killed your in-laws?"

Julian frowned, his eyes filled with helplessness and reproach:

"Vivian, Serena has already explained it wasn't intentional. Mom and Dad's death was an accident. You can't put all the blame on someone who's sick."

He took a deep breath and softened his tone:

"Come home with me. I don't blame you for what happened at the ceremony. Let's start over, okay?"

I looked at this man and woman and felt it was utterly absurd.

"Go home?" I narrowed my eyes slightly. "Julian Lawson, that home disgusts me."