No More Tears, I Left the Blind Billionaire Behind

On the day Ethan Carter regained his sight, I stayed up all night outside his hospital room, just to hand-deliver a pot of chicken and rice soup that I had simmered for four hours. But before I could push the door open, I heard him call another woman. "Chloe, I can see now." "Don't cry. I promised you that as soon as I got better, I’d come to get you myself." Standing outside the door, the thermos in my hands slowly grew cold. For three years, I had stayed by his side through his blindness, his violent rages, and countless painful nights. I had even given up my own future just to be his eyes. Yet, once he regained his sight, the first person he wanted to see was never me. Later, his mother handed me a check for ten million dollars. "Take the money and leave with some dignity." Looking down at the newly transferred balance in my account, I smiled for the first time. "Okay." This time, I didn't want him anymore. --- **Nora's POV** New York-Presbyterian Hospital. The early morning sun streamed through the glass windows, lighting up the VIP suite. I had been standing in the hallway outside his room all night, without a single wink of sleep. My legs were stiff and numb from standing so long, and my eyes were heavily shadowed with dark circles. Yet, my hands still held the thermos steadily. Inside was a soothing chicken and rice soup. I had borrowed the hospital's small kitchen at three in the morning and simmered it for four hours. Knowing Ethan's fragile stomach, I had shredded the chicken finely and cooked the rice until it was practically melted, leaving only a rich, warm, comforting broth. Through the cracked door, I could see the doctors and nurses moving around. They were probably removing the final layers of bandages. I didn't dare push the door open. I was terrified that my sudden entrance might distract the doctors. More than that, I was terrified that the hope I’d carried for three years would end in disappointment. So, like a devout believer, I waited humbly outside, barely daring to breathe, silently praying for everything to go well. "Mr. Carter, you can try opening your eyes slowly now. Take your time, don't force it, let your eyes adjust to the light." The lead doctor’s voice drifted out, laced with relief. The room fell dead silent for a few seconds. Then, I heard Ethan’s ragged breathing, followed by his trembling, ecstatic voice. "I can see... Doctor, I can see!" The moment I heard those words, all my exhaustion vanished. Tears of pure joy spilled over before I could stop them. Three years. Over a thousand days and nights of darkness and suffering had finally led to this moment. I was trembling with excitement. I took a step forward, ready to push the door open. I wanted to run in, hold him tight, and be the very first thing he saw now that he had his sight back. But before my hand could touch the doorknob, Ethan’s urgent voice cut through the air. "My phone! Leo, get me my phone!" I froze. Inside the room, Ethan dialed a number with practiced ease, his voice filled with his old confidence and wild joy. "Mom, the surgery was a success. Yes, I can see. Everything is perfect. Don't worry." After a brief call to reassure his mother, he hung up. I thought he would call my name next. For the past three years, whenever he was awake, whenever he needed anything, the first name out of his mouth was always "Nora." Instead, the soft sound of dialing echoed again. Ethan was making a second call. The hallway was so quiet that even through the crack in the door, I could clearly hear the soft, tearful voice of the woman who answered. "Ethan..." Chloe Vance. That name, that voice, made my chest tighten instantly. "Chloe, I can see now." Inside the room, Ethan’s voice completely changed. It wasn't the excitement he had shown his mother, nor was it the cold dependency he had shown me over the last three years. It was a gentle, soothing tone so tender it made my blood run cold. "Don't cry," he murmured, his voice thick with devotion and tenderness. "I promised you that as soon as I got better, I’d come get you myself. Don't cry, baby. It breaks my heart." Outside the door, I felt as if I had been turned to stone, frozen in place. ---**Nora's POV** I looked down, my blank gaze falling onto my hands. Over the past three years, I had ruined them. Constant washing, cleaning, and cooking in cold water had left my knuckles rough and slightly red. My skin bore various faint burn scars, and my fingertips were calloused from carving custom braille tools for him. Below those hands, I was wearing a cheap, faded cotton shirt with slightly frayed cuffs. Looking at myself, my mind drifted back to three years ago. Back then, Ethan had just woken up from a horrific car accident. The doctors told him his optic nerve was severely damaged, and he might be permanently blind. The golden boy of New York had fallen from his pedestal, and he completely lost his mind. He locked himself in this VIP room like a wild animal, smashing every single object he could reach. The sound of shattering glass and his desperate screams had terrified everyone. Outside, his mother, Victoria Carter, was crying so hard she almost fainted. All the doctors, nurses, and bodyguards were helpless. No one dared to go near the raging madman. Except me. I was just a poor student who had only managed to finish med school thanks to the Carter family's scholarship program. But back then, I don't know where I got the strength. I threw myself against the locked door, broke in, and ran through the shattered glass. Amidst the chaos, Ethan was swinging a heavy metal IV stand. Without hesitation, I lunged forward and threw my arms tightly around his waist. "Get out! Everyone get the hell out!" Out of his mind with rage, Ethan violently shoved me away. The force sent me flying backward, and the back of my head slammed hard against the sharp edge of a solid oak coffee table. Warm blood immediately gushed out, blurring my vision and dripping onto Ethan’s hospital gown. Everyone was terrified, but I didn't cry, and I didn't let go. Fighting through the dizzying pain of a severe concussion, I crawled back to him, wrapped my arms around him again, and whispered in his ear over and over: "Ethan, you still have me. I’ll be your eyes." The next day, with a thick white bandage wrapped around my head and my face pale as paper, I was right back at his bedside. I took his hand, which was raw and bloody from his own self-destructive fits, and patiently taught him how to feel the world again, piece by piece. Three years. Over a thousand days and nights. I turned down a fully-funded residency program recommended by my mentor. I gave up a prestigious ophthalmology fellowship at a top clinic. I turned myself into a human crutch, a 24/7 on-call nanny. I had thought that if you treated someone with unconditional love for three years, even a heart of stone would melt. "Chloe, I don't blame you for what happened back then. I know your parents forced you. Come back. I’ll be waiting for you in New York." Inside the room, Ethan’s tender promise felt like a vicious slap across my face. My three years of absolute devotion were nothing but a pathetic joke. It turned out he wasn't naturally cold. He had just saved all his tenderness for the ex-girlfriend who had called off their engagement and fled the country the very day he went blind. And I, Nora Miller, was nothing but a cheap tool used to get him through his darkest nights—a placeholder to be discarded. When disappointment reaches its peak, all that's left is a suffocating peace. I began to step back slowly. One step, two steps, moving away from that door that let in the light but would never belong to me. Finally, on numb legs, I walked to the nurse's station at the end of the hallway. I set down the thermos—still warm after a whole night—onto the counter. "Nora?" the nurse on duty asked, surprised by my pale face. "Why aren't you going in? Ethan just got his bandages off. He must be starving." I looked down at my disheveled reflection in the stainless steel thermos, a bitter smile tugging at my lips. "I'm not going in." My voice was barely a whisper. I turned away, leaving the nurse with only the view of my retreating back. "If he asks, just say it's a patient meal from the cafeteria." With that, I walked to the elevator. The doors slid open slowly, then shut with a cold, metallic click. I closed my eyes, letting the last trace of my hope, along with three years of my youth, crush into nothingness. ---**Nora's POV** A week later. Ethan threw a massive celebration party at Cipriani Wall Street, one of New York's most exclusive venues. Almost every wealthy heir, socialite, and influencer in the city showed up. The valet parking lot was packed with limited-edition supercars. Standing in the gilded lobby of the venue, I felt completely out of place. I was wearing a simple white dress—the only decent piece of clothing in my closet. I had bought it for thirty dollars at a thrift store two years ago just to accompany Ethan to a family dinner he couldn't avoid. The fabric was stiff, and the fit was slightly off. Surrounded by six-figure designer gowns, I looked incredibly cheap. Honestly, I hadn't wanted to come. But Ethan’s close friends had taken turns calling me, saying, "Nora, Ethan got his sight back, and you're the MVP here. If you don't show up, we won't even enjoy the drinks." Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the heavy double doors of the private room. But as the door cracked open, the laughter and conversation inside made me freeze. "Ethan, now that your eyes are finally healed, when are you going to marry Nora? She took care of you for three years without a single complaint. Even we were touched by how devoted she was." It was Ethan’s childhood friend, Dylan Foster, speaking with a mix of teasing and sincerity. The room fell quiet for a second, and everyone turned to look at Ethan, who was sitting at the head of the table. Ethan was swirling a crystal wine glass, the dim lights highlighting his flawlessly handsome, sharp features. After a moment of silence, his lips parted. "Nora is a good girl." He paused, then added, "But for three years, what I owed her wasn't love. It was a debt of gratitude." *A debt of gratitude.* The words cut through the crack of the door, ringing painfully in my ears. "Then how do you pay that back?" another wealthy heir chimed in. "Just give her money? The Carters have plenty of cash, but what about her youth? Ethan, don't tell me... you're still thinking about Chloe? She ran faster than anyone when you had that accident!" At the mention of Chloe's name, Ethan’s grip on his glass tightened, his knuckles turning white. He didn't deny it. He only offered a suffocating, heavy silence. Just then, the sharp click of high heels on the marble floor echoed from the end of the hallway. "Ethan, sorry I'm late." Accompanied by a sweet, melodic voice, the door was pushed open. Chloe Vance walked in, wearing the latest runway-model red backless designer gown. She looked like a proud swan, stepping into the room with absolute confidence. Her makeup was flawless, and her eyes sparkled with the thrill of victory. The air in the room instantly froze. Everyone knew about Chloe calling off the engagement back then. Seeing her walk in like she owned the place made several people give her highly skeptical looks. But Ethan’s reaction caught everyone off guard. He set his glass down, stood up, and personally pulled out the chair next to him. His gaze softened as he looked at Chloe. "You're not late. We just started." Chloe gave a smug, sweeping glance around the room before sitting down next to Ethan as if it were her birthright. As the tension reached its peak, I took a deep breath and walked into the room. My entrance made the already awkward atmosphere drop to absolute freezing point. My cheap white dress and her red haute couture gown formed a brutal, humiliating contrast. ---**Nora's POV** "Nora... Nora, you're here!" Dylan was the first to react. Trying to break the ice, he stood up and quickly pulled out the chair on Ethan's other side. "Come, sit next to Ethan!" A few of Ethan's other friends, who had witnessed my three years of sacrifice, chimed in. They deliberately struck up conversations with me, pouring me drinks and passing me fruit, pointedly ignoring Chloe. Chloe’s expression turned sour. She bit her lip, then suddenly suggested, "Just sitting here is boring. Let's play a game. Truth or Dare, anyone?" Not wanting to ruin Ethan's mood, the others reluctantly agreed. After a few rounds, the bottle pointed straight at Chloe. "I choose dare. I’ll take three shots of whiskey," Chloe said smoothly, picking up a glass and downing it. But immediately after the first shot, her brow furrowed in pain. She clutched her head and slumped weakly against Ethan. "Ethan... I feel so dizzy. My stomach hurts..." Almost on instinct, Ethan reached out to support her, his brow furrowed in deep concern. Without a second thought, he picked up the remaining two shots of whiskey and downed them both in one go. His voice grew raspy from the strong alcohol, but his gaze was ice-cold as he swept it across the room, finally locking onto Dylan and the others who had been ignoring Chloe. "Chloe can't hold her liquor. From now on, anyone who targets her or forces her to drink is making an enemy out of me." He delivered the warning coldly in front of everyone. The room fell into a dead silence. No one dared to speak, but their eyes kept darting back and forth between Ethan and me. Sitting to Ethan’s left, I watched him shield Chloe in his arms. I watched him down those two shots for her, and watched him threaten his own friends to protect her. My hands were clenched under the table, my nails digging so hard into my thigh that they drew blood, just so I could keep a calm face. It turned out love and indifference were so incredibly obvious. The heart I couldn't melt after three years of sleepless nights was easily won over by Chloe simply furrowing her brow. "I'm not feeling well. I'm going to head out," I said, my voice so calm it surprised even me. Without giving Ethan a single look, I turned and walked out of the room. The night air in New York was harsh and freezing. Standing on the steps of the venue, I pulled out my phone and opened a webpage. It was the application page for a fellowship program at St. Mary's Hospital in London. Six months ago, my mentor, Julian Reynolds, had sent me the invitation. But back then, I was too busy taking care of Ethan to give him a clear answer. Now, I clicked "Accept." Then, I dialed the visa application center. "Hi, I’d like to expedite my work visa for the UK. As fast as possible, please." ---**Nora's POV** Ever since the party, Chloe had assumed the role of Ethan’s official girlfriend. Every single day, she delivered lunch to the CEO’s office at Carter Enterprises. To show off her "devotion," she personally picked up takeout from New York’s trendiest, most viral restaurants—greasy, spicy hot chicken, spicy Thai tom yum soup, and ramen loaded with chili oil. She had no idea that during his three years of blindness, Ethan’s severe depression and irregular eating habits had left him with a terrible stomach ulcer. And Ethan, desperate to make up for abandoning Chloe in the past, ate every single bite of those irritating foods without even blinking. By the fourth afternoon, Ethan suffered an acute gastric spasm in the middle of a board meeting. He collapsed on the spot and was rushed to the ER in an ambulance to get his stomach pumped. Late that night, the VIP ward smelled heavily of disinfectant. Ethan lay against the pillows, his face pale, too weak to even open his eyes. When Chloe found out his stomach had to be pumped, she couldn't handle the smell of the hospital or the sight of fluids, so she made an excuse and left. And so, the person sitting by his bed taking care of him was still me. In his half-asleep state, Ethan seemed familiar with my scent. He instinctively leaned toward me, resting his heavy head against my shoulder. I didn't push him away. I poured a cup of warm honey water and used a cotton swab to gently moisten his dry, cracked lips. Then, I rubbed my hands together until they were warm and gently massaged his upper stomach in a slow, clockwise motion. I had done this thousands of times. During the countless nights when his stomach pain was so intense he broke out in cold sweats, I would stay awake all night, using my own body heat to soothe his pain. Under my touch, Ethan’s tense brow slowly relaxed. His breathing grew steady, and he fell into a deep sleep against my shoulder. I tilted my head slightly to look at his face. He was still incredibly handsome, but he no longer belonged to me. I suddenly thought of the handwritten recipe book sitting in my apartment drawer. It was a thick leather notebook, filled with over a hundred recipes for gentle, stomach-soothing meals. To write that book, I, a medical student trained to hold a scalpel, had forced myself to become a nutritionist, my fingers constantly blistered from hot oil. I still remembered the time I spent three hours making a soothing chicken noodle soup for him when he was at his angriest. He had taken a bite, fell silent for a long time, and for once, didn't smash the bowl. Instead, he muttered, "Nora, your cooking isn't half bad." That was the gentlest thing he had ever said to me during his darkest days. ---**Nora's POV** For that one "not half bad," I had gladly spent three years of my youth in the kitchen. But now, he would rather eat the toxic meals Chloe brought him than take another sip of my soup. My eyes stung. Taking a deep breath, I carefully lifted Ethan’s head, laid him back onto the pillow, and pulled my numb arm away. Just then, my phone screen lit up in my pocket. It was a text from Chloe. Several photos popped up, all of them candid shots of Ethan eating the spicy Thai soup she brought him. In the photos, even though Ethan was slightly frowning, his eyes were full of absolute indulgence. Then came a long text message: *Nora, see this? Ethan has always loved me. Even if I feed him poison, he’ll eat it with a smile. Did you really think taking care of him for three years would change anything? In his eyes, you're just a glorified, expensive maid he hired—a little clown to keep him amused while I was gone. Wake up and stop clinging to him like a desperate loser.* I stared at the screen, feeling nothing but a ridiculous, hollow sadness. I didn't reply. I just locked the screen. But the moment the screen went black, the phone buzzed again. It was an unregistered landline number, but I recognized it instantly. It was the Carter estate. I stepped out of the room and answered it in the quiet hallway. "Nora," Victoria Carter's cold, aristocratic voice echoed from the receiver, carrying the typical snobbery of a billionaire's wife. "Ethan’s eyes are fully healed, and he’ll officially take over Carter Enterprises next month. As the head of the company, his wife must be someone whose family background and education can support his career—someone like Chloe." Victoria paused, her tone turning patronizing. "Not someone from the bottom of the ladder like you, who can do nothing but cook soup and hand him medicine. You’ve worked hard these past three years, and the Carters won't treat you unfairly. I’ve had ten million dollars wired to your account. This money is enough for you to live comfortably for the rest of your life. Take it, leave with some dignity, and don't make things difficult for everyone." Silence hung over the line. I could picture Victoria sitting on her luxurious designer sofa, confidently waiting for me to cry, beg, or scream about how unfair this was after everything I had sacrificed. She had probably prepared all her arguments to shut me down. But on my end, there was only ten seconds of absolute silence. Just as her breathing started to sound impatient, I finally spoke. No tears, no anger, no resentment. My voice was as calm as still water. "Okay, I understand. I'll take the money. Thank you, Mrs. Carter." With that, I hung up. I turned around and took one last look at Ethan through the glass of the VIP room. The cold hallway draft rustled my thin jacket. I pulled my hair back and walked toward the elevator without looking back. That recipe book with over a hundred dishes was finally ready for the trash. ---