“I didn’t touch you,” I said quietly, but no one listened.

They were too busy hovering over Sabrina, who cradled her hand like it had been severed and not barely nicked. Her performance was flawless—wide teary eyes, a quivering lip, trembling shoulders. Every gesture perfectly calculated.

“You should’ve stopped her!” Nathan snapped at me. “She’s still recovering! Why did you let her near the kitchen?”

“I told her no,” I murmured. “She didn’t listen to me. Why are you blaming me?”

Gabriel’s glare could’ve sliced me in half. “You should’ve insisted. You know she’s not well. You’re supposed to be the responsible one.”

“And what about you?” I muttered under my breath. “I’m not well either.”

But again, no one heard me. Or maybe they chose not to.

“Next time, just cook for everyone yourself,” Nathan said sharply. “Sabrina shouldn’t be lifting a finger in her condition. Have some care for her! You guys are best friends, and we’re family here.”

Family? I wanted to vomit at the thought. I started, but the words withered before they reached them. What would be the sense of explaining when they wouldn’t listen to me at all?

“She shouldn’t have to want anything. Just take care of it,” Gabriel cut in. “You’re the one who’s fine now, right? So act like it. Cook for us! We want to eat something decent.”

They took Sabrina—still sniffling—into her room. Nathan had his arm around her like she was made of glass. Gabriel followed, saying something about getting her some ice.

And once again, they left me.

Alone. I stood by the stove, the soup long gone cold. I reheated it without thinking, added some salt, cracked an egg into the pot. My body moved automatically, stirring, ladling, pouring the food into a bowl with practiced care.

But this time… I didn’t cook for everyone. Why would I? They didn’t even want me with them in Finland. They don’t deserve me, not even once, so everything I do now is for myself.

Just for me.

I sat down at the table and began to eat.

The broth was warm, the taste soft on my tongue—comforting. It didn’t fix anything, but at least it was mine.

Halfway through the bowl, footsteps stormed into the kitchen.

Nathan and Gabriel.

“There you are,” Nathan said, glancing at the table. “Where’s our food?”

Gabriel followed with a frown. “Isn’t it done yet? What did you even make?”

I didn’t look up. “Nothing. This is just for me.”

Nathan blinked. “You only made food for yourself? Didn’t you hear me say you should cook for us, and also Sabrina? Where is it now?”

“I’m not your cook,” I said simply, spooning another bite into my mouth. “I didn’t even agree.”

Silence. Then the scoff.

“This is because of Sabrina again, isn’t it?” Gabriel snapped. “God, Elena, when are you going to let this go?”

I didn’t answer.

“She’s sick. She’s hurt,” Nathan added. “Why do you have to be so bitter all the time? What, you think we’re supposed to just abandon her so you can get attention?”

Still, I kept eating.

Bite after bite, the silence growing louder around me.

“You’re so damn selfish,” Gabriel growled. “Seriously. Everything’s always about you, huh? You think the world owes you something just because you were here first?”

I stared at the bowl. My hands trembled slightly. But not from fear.

Just fatigue.

“She didn’t ask to get hurt,” Nathan added. “You’ve been nothing but cold since she got back. She’s trying, and you just… sulk. You’re jealous. Admit it.”

Jealous.

That word again.

The word they always used to shut me down.

I put my spoon down slowly.

“I’m not jealous,” I whispered. “I’m just… done.”

But they didn’t hear it. Or maybe they did and just didn’t care.

Suddenly, Gabriel slammed his palm on the table, making the spoon rattle. I flinched.

“You know what?” he snapped. “You really are nothing compared to her.”

Then, without warning, he grabbed my bowl and threw it against the wall.

The ceramic shattered. The soup dripped down like blood.

I stared at the mess.

Nathan didn’t stop him.

Neither of them did.

“Useless,” Gabriel muttered, shaking his head. “You’re just… useless.”

The words echoed in the air, thick and heavy.

They left the room again, their footsteps fading down the hallway.

I stood there, staring at the broken bowl. The mess they didn’t even try to clean.

And strangely…

I didn’t cry.

Not this time.

Not anymore.

Because I was past that.

By morning, most of my bags were packed. Boxes lined the wall beside my bed—neatly labeled and taped. Clothes, documents, photos I hadn’t burned yet. I folded the last few shirts with quiet precision, not because I cared, but because there was something strangely peaceful about moving in silence.

They all thought I was just packing for the wedding.

No one asked when I’d return. No one even asked if I would return.

That silence confirmed everything.

I moved to the corner of my closet where I kept a small velvet-lined case. My jewelry collection. Trinkets from birthdays, old gifts from relatives, little mementos I had held onto.

I opened the box to check on it. The necklace.

A diamond pendant set in platinum, delicately wrapped in an antique design. It had belonged to my grandmother. Passed down to my mother. And then to me. I was supposed to wear it on my wedding day—whenever that day came.

But when I opened the case, it was gone.

The necklace was gone.

I froze.

I searched the drawers, the shelves, the small lockbox I’d tucked beneath my bed. I tore through my bag. Nothing.

Heart thudding, I marched straight into the living room. Nathan was there, lounging on the couch with his phone in hand.

“Nathan,” I said sharply, “where’s my diamond necklace?”

He barely glanced up. “Oh. That.”

“What do you mean, ‘that’?”

“I gave it to Sabrina,” he said casually. “She’s gonna wear it on our Finland trip. Looks good on her.”

My heart stopped. “You what?”

He finally looked at me, annoyed by the tone of my voice. “She liked it. And it suited her. I figured, why not? You weren’t wearing it.”

I stepped closer, fists clenched. “It’s not just some accessory. That necklace is a family heirloom. It belonged to my mother’s family. It was given to me. It’s mine.”

Nathan shrugged. “Sabrina’s family too. Why are you being like that? And she was just borrowing it.”

“No, she’s not,” I hissed. “She was never family. I made her part of our lives. I begged my parents to take her in. I gave her a home. And what did she do? She took everything.”

His expression darkened. “You’re being rude, Elena. I can’t believe you were really jealous of her like she said.”

“I’m being honest,” I spat. “I regret ever bringing her into my life, and I am not jealous! Never! She’s nothing but a bitch!”

And then it happened.

Slap.

My head whipped to the side. A sharp sting burned across my cheek.

I blinked, stunned. Nathan’s hand still hung in the air between us.

“She’s your sister, not by blood, and also your best friend," he snapped. “She is also like us. Don’t ever talk about her like that again.”

Before I could respond, Sabrina walked out of her room in a silk robe, barefoot, and playing innocent like she always did.

“What’s going on?” she asked sweetly, looking between us. “Why are you shouting?”

I pointed at her chest. “Where is the necklace?”

Sabrina glanced down like she’d forgotten she was even wearing it. The diamond glinted at her collarbone.

“Oh… this?” she said, touching it lightly. “I just borrowed it. I didn’t think you’d mind. Nathan said it was okay. And I mean, I’m part of the family too, right?”

“Take it off,” I snapped. “Now.”

Her expression faltered. “Elena—”

“Take. It. Off.”

I stepped toward her. She backed away, clutching the necklace.

“What’s wrong with you?” she said, voice rising. “Why are you acting like this? I just wanted to feel pretty. I love this necklace—”

I reached out to snatch it, but she yanked it back. We struggled. She fought harder than I expected, and the delicate chain snapped.

The diamond pendant clattered to the floor, rolling under the coffee table.

“You ruined it!” I screamed.

“It’s not a big deal,” she said breathlessly. “It’s just a necklace!”

“You had no right to wear it!”

Nathan rushed to Sabrina’s side, placing himself between us. “Back off!”

Gabriel came out from the hallway, immediately rushing to Sabrina. “Are you okay?”

“She’s lost her mind!” Sabrina cried, sniffling as usual. “She’s so… so mean. I didn’t mean to break it…”

“She attacked me,” she added as an afterthought. “I think she pushed me.”

“You’re unbelievable,” I whispered, numb.

Gabriel turned to me, his eyes sharp. “What’s wrong with you? She didn’t mean to break it. You’re always looking for a fight!”

Then Nathan shoved me back lightly, but enough to make me stumble.

“Just stop already,” he muttered, grabbing Sabrina’s hand and leading her back toward her room.

And once again… they left me.

Alone.

I stood in the middle of the living room, breath ragged, eyes on the shattered necklace chain on the floor. I knelt, silently, and picked up each broken piece of the pendant with trembling fingers.

That was it.

That was the last line they crossed.

I walked straight to my room, pulled out my phone, and dialed the landlady.

“Hello?” she answered sleepily.

“It’s Elena,” I said flatly. “I want to sell the apartment.”

“Sell?” she repeated. “Right away?”

“Yes,” I said. “List it. Put it on the market.”

“Yes,” I said. “List it. Put it on the market.”

There was a short silence on the other end of the line, then the real estate agent cleared her throat. “Understood, Ms. Reid. Just to confirm, you’re selling the property fully? Will there be any tenants to notify?”

I exhaled slowly. “Yes. Three of them—Gabriel, Nathan, and Sabrina. They’ve been living there with me for years. I want official notice sent to them after I’ve left.”

She paused. “Any rental contracts?”

“No,” I replied flatly. “They’ve been staying here for free. It was never supposed to be permanent.”

The apartment had been a gift from my parents when I entered college. A quiet, two-bedroom flat turned into a shared space once Nathan and Gabriel moved to the city with me. Sabrina followed a year later, right after her adoption was finalized. I had begged my parents to let me live independently, to build a life with them, to be free from the pressure of our family’s company.

They didn’t understand. They thought I was reckless. But I was just in love—with Nathan, with the idea of a found family, with the dream of forever.

Back then, nothing mattered more than being together.

Now, everything I built had crumbled.

“I want an invoice calculated,” I added to the agent. “Back rent for the past four years. Break it down clearly. If they can’t pay it, kindly begin the process to remove them.”

“Consider it done,” she replied. “I’ll prepare all paperwork discreetly and schedule the listing.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

After ending the call, I dialed another number—my storage and estate agent.

“I want all my things sold,” I told him. “Furniture. Appliances. Whatever’s still here.”

“All of it?” he asked.

“Yes. I’m not taking anything with me.”

The call ended, but I didn’t move right away.

I looked around the apartment—my apartment—for what I knew was the last time. It felt quieter than usual, but maybe that was just the emptiness finally settling in. The walls that once held laughter now only echoed back silence.

I walked through the living room slowly, letting my fingers trail across the back of the couch where we used to pile up on movie nights. The dent in the cushion where Sabrina used to sit was still there. So was the chip in the coffee table Gabriel caused after tripping over his own shoes. Even the photo on the wall—our first one together, fresh out of college—still smiled back at me.

I remembered baking banana bread with Nathan at 2 a.m., how we burned the first one and still ate it anyway. The nights we all sat around this very table, playing cards, betting on who’d do the next grocery run. The way they made me feel like this place was more than just bricks and furniture—it had been ours.

I had built my little world here. A home.

And now it was a graveyard of memories.

A part of me still wanted to believe we could’ve saved it. That maybe, if I had just tried a little harder…

But no. I had tried. Far too long.

With a steady breath, I whispered, “Goodbye,” to the space—and to the girl who had once believed that love alone could hold people together.

Then I picked up my suitcase, stepped out the door, and didn’t look back. I checked into a modest hotel across town—something temporary until my flight. No goodbyes. No closure.

Just silence.

It wasn’t peace yet, but it was the closest I’d come in years.

I was sipping tea in the hotel room when my phone buzzed.

Nathan: What is happening? Why is there someone here picking up our things??

I didn’t answer right away. I let him stew in confusion for a moment. Then I typed back: Oh, that’s the eviction notice.

A second later, he called.

I answered.

“What the hell are you talking about?” he demanded. “Eviction? Why are movers here? Is this some joke?”

“I’m selling the apartment,” I said calmly. “The papers were signed this morning.”

“You can’t sell it!” he shouted. “We didn’t agree to that!”

“I don’t need your agreement,” I said coldly. “It’s my apartment. You’ve never paid a single cent. Not for rent, not for electricity, not even for the groceries.”

He went quiet, but only for a second.

“You’re overreacting—again,” he snapped. “Come on, Elena. We can fix this. Stop making it worse.”

“There’s nothing to fix, Nathan,” I said, standing by the hotel window, watching the rain blur the city lights. “I’m done. With all of you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. I’ve meant it for a long time now.”

And with that, I ended the call.

No screaming. No begging. Just the dial tone.

I stared at the phone for a moment, then scrolled to the one contact that still mattered.