When I woke up again, Nick was already dressed and had prepared breakfast. His movements were calm, as if he hadn't left last night at all.

He said cheerfully, "Helen, today I'm taking you to see an active volcano."

This year, while watching a documentary, I casually mentioned something and Nick remembered it.

He said, "The team over there said it's predicted to be relatively safe these days. I've already arranged everything, Helen, just follow me."

After breakfast, he had already packed my luggage. Anyone would praise him as the perfect family man.

I once dreamed of watching the Earth's pulse with Nick, sharing every moment worth remembering. Now, he was still with me, but his heart was with another woman.

He kept glancing at his phone, a look of unmistakable tenderness on his face.

I glanced over and asked, "What are you looking at?" I thought he would panic, that he would explain.

But he calmly handed me his phone without hesitation. "I've adopted a shark. I was just checking its location."

I lowered my gaze and saw a cartoon shark icon with the name 'Yvonne' on its head, along with longitude and latitude coordinates in the corner.

He appeared composed. If I hadn't seen the chat interface reflected in his glasses earlier, I might have believed him. Nick, you lied to me again.

I handed his phone back and casually asked, "Why did you name it Yvonne?" That woman's name was Yvonne Chadwick and he called her Yvonne.

Nick's pupils contracted as he carefully studied my expression. Seeing no change in my demeanor, he let out a subtle sigh of relief, "When I first adopted it, it liked swimming south, so I gave it that name."

I kept ask, "When did you adopt it?"

"Three or four months ago," he answered. So, it had already been that long.

He clearly didn't want to dwell on the topic. "If you are interested, I can help you adopt one too. Watching it occasionally is quite stress-relieving."

Stress-relieving, was that his excuse for keeping another woman? I didn't respond to him. Turning away, I couldn't help but bend over slightly.

He was quick to support me, asking nervously, "Helen, what's wrong? Are you feeling unwell? Should I carry you?"

There was still some distance to the volcano. Swallowing the nausea that surged up, I shook my head and said, "The path is rough, don't carry me."