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As she spoke, Ruby made a gesture of being hit, pointing to her left cheek and saying, “This face was hit.”

Under the light and starlight, Ruby’s pale, delicate face looked poreless and flawless.

However, Steve could faintly see the red finger marks on her face.

He felt a hand gripping his heart, squeezing it harder and harder, causing blood to ooze out slowly, making it hard for him to breathe.

He had always thought that in their loveless relationship, he was the one who loved and hurt the most.

But now he realized that his pain and sadness were nothing compared to hers.

He had thought that Ruby was just good at pretending, like a puppet. But it wasn’t an act—she really was a puppet.

Steve struggled to steady himself, staring at Ruby for a long time before finally moving his dry lips and asking a question, unsure if he was asking himself or her.

He asked: “Were you raised from childhood to exist only for me?”

Ruby’s hand on the table slowly clenched into a fist. After a considerable pause, she gave a slight nod and uttered a quiet “yes.”

For the first time in his life, Steve was at a loss for words.

His eyes bore heavily into Ruby, not speaking for a long while. Finally, he lifted his head and covered his face with his hand.

She existed for him since childhood.

Ruby had existed for him since childhood.

Steve’s eyes began to feel warm.

Ruby sat across from him, telling herself over and over not to cry. She forced a smile and, holding back the sourness in her heart, joked, trying to sound casual, “In the drawer of my dressing table in my bedroom, there’s a notebook. That notebook records every little detail about you ever since I was a child. It’s the story of my life for the past twenty-plus years.”

Upon hearing this, Steve’s hand that covered his face trembled violently.

He closed his eyes, taking deep breaths, trying to alleviate the pain in his chest.

But he found his pain growing even worse.