The moment my eyes met Barnaby's, a flicker of amusement passed through his gaze. Then he raised his hand, lazy and unhurried, one finger pointed straight at me.

"That one. I want her."

That day, he took me away and became the only light in my dark world.

He wasn't just my boyfriend. He was my salvation. I'd poured every ounce of love I had into him, and I truly couldn't bear to let go.

While I was lost in those memories, a familiar voice pulled me back.

"Caroline, why are you sitting on the floor? It's cold down there. Come on, get up."

Only then did I realize that the moment I'd walked into the hospital room, my knees had buckled. I was crumpled on the ground.

I stared at Barnaby's lips, still swollen and red from kissing her, and spoke slowly, one word at a time.

"Barnaby, are you hiding something from me?"

"Am I really just your housekeeper?"

He froze. The flash of panic in his eyes made him look, for just a moment, utterly exposed.

"Hiding something? What do you mean?"

"Caroline, did you remember something?"

I wanted to scream yes. I wanted to demand an explanation for everything he'd done to me.

But for some reason, when he asked that question, I shook my head as if something else had taken control of my body.

"No. I just feel like something's off. All of it."

The relief that washed over Barnaby's face was impossible to miss.

"You just went through a serious injury. Feeling disoriented right now is completely normal. It'll pass."

"Come on, let's go home. We can talk on the way."

On the drive back, Barnaby was behind the wheel. Lena sat in the passenger seat.

I sat in the back, staring at their intertwined fingers, a vicious ache spreading through my chest.

Barnaby talked and talked. He said we were about the same age. He said after my parents died and I had nowhere to go, he'd taken me in.

He said I wasn't really a housekeeper in the traditional sense. That in his heart, I was like a sister to him, just not by blood.

He said so much.

But he never once mentioned the five years we'd spent in love.

I spoke quietly.

"So I live in your house, but I'm not a housekeeper, not a sister, and definitely not a girlfriend. Is that right?"

"Then why did you let me stay? Because you felt sorry for me?"

Barnaby choked on his words. Lena jumped in immediately from the passenger seat.

"You two have known each other for years. After your parents passed and you had nowhere to go, Barnaby let you stay as a housekeeper. That's all."

"We're all friends here. Looking out for each other is what friends do."

I lifted my gaze to Lena.

"Is that so? Then what exactly are you doing here, Miss Floyd? Are you coming home with us?"

"Are you two already living together?"

My tone was anything but polite. It dripped with open hostility.

In the rearview mirror, Barnaby's brows drew together.

"Lena is my girlfriend. What's the problem with her coming home with me?"

The protectiveness in his voice was unmistakable. It felt like ten thousand needles driving into the left side of my chest all at once.

The pain hit so fast and so hard it flooded through every limb, every nerve, until I couldn't force out another word.

I closed my eyes and stopped looking at the two of them in the front seat.

The moment I stepped through the front door, I almost laughed.

Five years together. Every corner of this home had been arranged by my own hands. The walls, the shelves, every surface was covered with photos of me and Barnaby.

I looked up at the two people standing in front of me, suddenly curious to see how they'd explain this.

"We're really just friends? These photos don't exactly scream 'platonic.'"

My tone in the car had already put Lena on edge. Now, hearing this question, she didn't bother hiding her irritation.

"What exactly are you implying? You don't actually think you're Barnaby's girlfriend, do you?"

"I wanted to say something back in the car. What's with the attitude you've been giving me?"

"Before you lost your memory, you were constantly trying to sabotage our relationship, always clinging to Barnaby and making him take pictures with you. Now you're using those photos to stir up trouble. I've been more than patient with you!"

Listening to Lena twist reality like she was the victim here, all I felt was a bitter sort of amusement.

I was about to fire back when Barnaby cut me off.

"Caroline, you were out of line today. I've always treated you like a sister, but that doesn't give you the right to disrespect my girlfriend."

"Enough. Apologize to Lena. Now."

I stared at Barnaby in disbelief.

It was like I didn't recognize him anymore.

Over the past five years, even though he'd bought me at that underground auction, he had treated me like I was everything.

When I came down with a fever, he stayed up all night by my bedside without closing his eyes.

When I couldn't eat, he printed out recipes and taught himself to cook, just so I'd take one more bite.

When I told him I loved the blind-box toys that came with kids' meals, he sat through countless rounds of greasy fast food with me, just to pull the one I wanted.

But now, standing next to Lena, Barnaby looked like a complete stranger.

Lena was clearly savoring his protection. She shot me a smug glance, then put on a magnanimous front.

"Let it go, Barnaby. Caroline just got out of the hospital. She's probably not feeling well. It's my fault too. I shouldn't have lost my temper."

"Fine, fine. It's late. Let Caroline get some rest."

Barnaby neither agreed nor disagreed with Lena's little performance. He gave me one cold look, wrapped his arm around her waist, and walked away.

I watched the two of them disappear into the master bedroom.

The moment the door clicked shut, my heart sank with it, dropping into some endless void where no sound could reach.

In the middle of the night, I lay alone in the guest room. Then a sound crept through the silence and into my ears.

I got out of bed and followed it to the hallway. It was coming from the master bedroom.

The woman's voice was syrupy, dripping with a sweetness designed to dissolve bone.

"Stop, you're too worked up. Caroline's right next door. What if she hears us?"

The man's voice was raw, thick with desire.

"Relax. The soundproofing in this place is top-notch. I already shut the door. She can't hear a thing."

"Lena... my Lena. What am I going to do with you..."

He kept murmuring her name, but his movements never slowed.

I had never seen Barnaby like this. Unraveled. Out of control.

In five years together, even in bed, he had always been gentle. Restrained. I'd assumed that was simply who he was, that passion ran cool in his veins.

Now I understood. It wasn't that he lacked fire. The person who could light it just was never me.

And then Lena's gaze drifted, her eyes heavy-lidded, and locked directly onto mine through the gap in the door.

In that instant, everything became perfectly clear.

Barnaby said he'd shut the door. But it was open. The gap was exactly wide enough for me to see everything inside.

Lena had left it open on purpose.

I met her taunting stare, felt a hollow laugh rise in my chest, and pulled the door shut myself.

I booked a flight for the next morning, then fell into a thick, dreamless sleep.

When I woke, the house was silent. Whether they were still in bed or had gone out, I had no idea.

I didn't care enough to find out. I walked straight to the courtyard and stood there, staring blankly at the osmanthus tree.

Barnaby had planted it before we moved in.

Right after graduating college, I'd begged my parents to take me on a graduation trip.

But on the road, we were in a terrible car accident. The driver, my mom, my dad. All three of them died.

I'd been badly injured. When I finally woke up, I was in an underground auction house in a Southeast Asian black-market district.

Just when I thought my life would end there, Barnaby saved me.

But even after the rescue, I developed severe PTSD. I stayed locked inside the house, crying day after day. I wouldn't go out, wouldn't see anyone, wouldn't eat.

I was convinced it was my fault. I was the one who'd insisted on that trip. I was the one who should have died.

During that time, the only thing I was willing to take a few bites of was the osmanthus cake Barnaby made by hand.

After we moved in together, he'd had someone transplant this very osmanthus tree into the courtyard.

"Don't underestimate this tree. Its blossoms can be used to make you osmanthus cake. And in a couple days, I'll build you a swing right underneath it."

"When summer comes, my Caroline can sit on the swing, breathing in the flowers, eating her cake. How perfect is that?"

He built the swing himself. And on the trunk, beside the swing, he'd hung a small wooden plaque with a few words carved into it.

Barnaby & Caroline.

With a little heart in between.

Even now, I could still remember how I'd wrapped my arms around his waist and looked up at him, my eyes full of laughter.

"This is our love tree. As long as it's still standing, I'll still be here."

I was lost in the memory when a shrill, affected voice cut through.

"You never lost your memory, did you, Caroline?"

We were alone now, and Lena didn't bother hiding her smugness.

"I figured it out at the hospital. When you asked who Barnaby was, you almost cracked up. It was obviously a joke."

"But hey, since you wanted to play games, I figured I'd play along. Only fair, right?"

I said nothing. I just looked at her, cold.

Lena had joined the company six months ago. From that day on, Barnaby changed.

The overtime got longer. The business trips got more frequent.

It wasn't until yesterday, when I ended up hurt in the hospital, that I finally learned where all those late nights and trips had actually gone.

But none of that mattered anymore.

When I didn't respond, the triumph in Lena's eyes only deepened.

"If I were you, I'd never have the nerve to stick around here like some shameless leech. So what if you've been with him five years? All I have to do is crook my finger, and there won't be a single corner of his heart left for you."

"But I get it, I really do. After all, I heard that after your parents died, you went crazy. You're just a parentless little orphan now. Of course you'd cling to Barnaby for dear life."

"Oh, and that time in Southeast Asia? It wasn't just an auction, was it? I heard the men there are animals." She let out a low, mocking laugh. "Don't tell me you picked up some disease while you were at it."

My head snapped up. I stared at her, every muscle in my body rigid, the fury in my chest about to detonate.

How could she. How dare she.

My reaction seemed to delight her. She flicked her hair with a satisfied toss.

"You know, looking at you like this, if your dead parents could see—"

I couldn't hold back any longer. My palm connected with her face so hard the crack echoed through the room.

But before I could get a single word out, Barnaby's voice exploded behind me.

"Caroline! What the hell are you doing!"

The instant she heard his voice, the smugness on Lena's face dissolved into wounded fragility.

"Caroline, I just came to talk to you. Why would you hit me out of nowhere..."

Barnaby's gaze locked onto Lena's swollen, reddening cheek. When he spoke, his voice was cold enough to freeze blood.

"Caroline, how could you be so vicious? What did Lena say to you that made you hit her?"

I ignored Barnaby's interrogation. My eyes locked onto his, unblinking.

"That I'm mentally ill. You told her that?"

Barnaby froze. Lena jumped in immediately.

"Caroline, I only heard from Barnaby that you'd been through some trauma before. I was worried your injury this time might affect your emotional state. How can you twist things around like this?"

Barnaby recovered.

"I did mention it to Lena, but it's the truth, isn't it? She was just concerned about how you were feeling."

"Look at yourself right now. You've been acting unhinged ever since you left the hospital yesterday. Forget what Lena said. Even if she called you a psycho, she wouldn't be wrong!"

Tears fell from my eyes in heavy drops, each one crashing down as my heart shredded itself into countless pieces.

When my illness had been at its worst, the doctors kept me strapped to the hospital bed around the clock. The moment they loosened the restraints, all I wanted was to throw myself off the roof.

Back then, Barnaby had been the one sitting beside me, saying the same words over and over.

"It's okay, it's okay. Our Caroline is just sick, that's all. I'll stay with you. Be good for me, okay? We'll get through this together."

But now, the disgust in his eyes when he looked at me was completely unconcealed. He'd even joined Lena in calling me mentally ill.

Perhaps afraid I'd say something else, Lena grabbed Barnaby's hand.

"Barnaby, I feel awful. I'm so dizzy. Can you take me to the hospital for a checkup? Please?"

Barnaby's gaze sharpened the instant he saw my tears.

But his lips moved without sound for a long moment, and in the end, he steadied Lena and walked out the door.

After they left, I went straight to the master bedroom. I didn't pack a thing. I took only my bank card and my ID.

There was nothing left in this house worth holding on to.

Including Barnaby.