Minerva walked for nearly four hours before she finally made it to the city and flagged down a cab. By the time she got home, the sky had turned dark.

The soles of her feet were raw, bloodied, and riddled with blisters. Every step she took sent a sharp ache through her body.

She had just finished tending to her wounds when Algernon and Maxine came rushing down the stairs in a panic.

"Mr. Davison, Mrs. Davison, what's wrong?" she asked, catching Maxine just in time before she stumbled.

Tears streamed down Maxine's face as she clutched Minerva's arms, her voice shaking.

"Frederick was in a car accident. He tried to protect that girl, Yolanda! I knew she was trouble. I told him she'd bring disaster, but he wouldn't listen. And now look at what he's done to himself. It sent him straight to the hospital!"

Seeing how distraught they were, Minerva worried they might collapse if things turned worse. So, she accompanied them to the hospital.

By the time they arrived, Frederick was out of surgery.

The doctor flipped through Frederick's chart, clicking his tongue. "That was a serious crash. Your boyfriend fractured six ribs, but you didn't even get a scratch. If that's not proof of how far he's willing to go for you, I don't know what is."

Yolanda let out a sob and flung herself into Frederick's arms, crying even louder.

Frederick let out a sharp breath, his jaw tightening as pain flickered across his face. But his eyes softened with concern as he looked at her. "Alright, Landa. Don't cry. I did it willingly."

His chest bandages were already tinged red, but he kept comforting Yolanda like nothing mattered more. Watching this, Algernon and Maxine lost their patience completely.

They stormed forward and pulled Yolanda off him, their voices sharp and furious. "Move! You're pressing on his ribs."

Yolanda clutched at the hem of her blouse, her tears falling again.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just… I'm just so worried about him."

Seeing her look so pitiful, Frederick immediately stepped in, his voice low and firm. "It's just a few broken bones. Why are you yelling at her like that? She didn't do anything wrong!"

That one sentence sent Algernon's and Maxine's anger erupting.

"A few broken bones? What do you think a serious injury looks like, then? Frederick, how many times has this girl messed up your life?" Algernon growled.

"She didn't even mean it this time, and you still ended up in the hospital. What if one day she does mean it? Are you going to let her destroy this family?"

Faced with his parents' fury, Frederick didn't back down.

His voice was steady, filled with unwavering resolve. "No one can break us apart. I want to be with her, no matter what I have to give up. If you're mad about it, then go ahead and hit me again—ten times if you have to."

"You ungrateful brat!" Maxine shouted.

Before the shouting could escalate further, Minerva gently pulled Algernon and Maxine away and out of the hospital room.

She tried to calm them down for several minutes, speaking in soft tones. But neither of them would budge, and they stormed off with darkened expressions.

Soon after, the doctor exited with Yolanda, who was crying so hard that she was on the verge of fainting. He glanced toward Minerva.

"Your brother's still under observation. He'll need someone to watch him overnight. You'll take care of him, yes? Don't leave."

Minerva froze for a moment, then gave a small nod, remembering that she was now officially Frederick's sister.

When she pushed the door to his room open, Frederick was frowning, giving her a long, puzzled look.

"Why are you still here? To take care of me? I don't need that, especially not from you. You've never been any good at it."

Minerva closed the door quietly behind her and replied without thinking, "I was. Did you forget? I used to take care of you."

The moment the words left her mouth, both of them stilled. A beat passed, and without needing to say anything else, they knew they were both thinking about the same memory.

Six years ago, Minerva had been cornered at the edge of an alley by a group of knife-wielding thugs. They wanted her to date their leader. At the time, Frederick charged in to save her without hesitation.

He was stabbed multiple times, bleeding out so badly that he nearly died.

Minerva had cried so hard that her chest physically ached. She stayed by his side day and night at the hospital for days.

But she had been raised in comfort, unaccustomed to taking care of others. She knocked over his glass, handed him the wrong medication, and fumbled through every task.

Frederick was in pain, but her clumsy efforts made him laugh.

Now, six years later, Minerva had changed.

She quietly righted the chair, confirmed the time for his next dressing change, and ordered him a light dinner. Eventually, the room grew quiet.

After a long silence, Frederick's voice broke through. "Let the past stay in the past."

Minerva's hand paused as she poured him a glass of water. Her voice was barely audible. "You're right. It's all in the past now."

In the days that followed, she stayed at the hospital, taking care of Frederick.

Yolanda came by multiple times each day, insisting she wanted to help take care of him. But she only ever seemed to make things worse.

One afternoon, she spilled scalding soup all over Minerva's legs. The pain had her breaking into a cold sweat, barely able to stand.

When Frederick caught sight of the red, blistering skin, his expression darkened. "You don't need to take care of me. Go home."

Minerva's hands trembled as she cleaned up the mess. Her voice shook and was barely above a whisper. "Your parents are still furious and won't come to see you. Given our relationship… it should be me looking after you."

He thought, "Relationship? What relationship?"

Frederick didn't understand what she meant. It sounded like there was more she wasn't telling him.

Just as he was about to ask, Yolanda climbed into his lap, eyes brimming with tears."This is all my fault, Frederick. Punish me if you want."

The interruption erased whatever he had been about to say. He chuckled softly and pinched her cheek. "Alright. I'll punish you, then."

She closed her eyes, and he leaned down to kiss her.

Their lips locked, the kiss deepened, and their bodies drew closer.

Minerva forced herself to stand. The pain in her leg flared with each step, but she said nothing. She held the wall for support and left the room in silence to tend to her burn wound.

When she returned, Yolanda was long gone.

Frederick was sitting up, holding Minerva's phone, his tone icy. "Someone called. They said you made an appointment at a tattoo parlor. What are you trying to do?"

Minerva dropped her gaze, her fingers absently brushing over the spot where the tattoo lay hidden beneath her shirt. A faint, almost mocking smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

She was erasing every trace he had ever left on her. After all, no sister would ever have her brother's name inked over her heart.

Although she was planning to remove her tattoo, Minerva didn't want to complicate things. Thus, she lied.

"No idea. Probably just a marketing ad," she said casually.

Frederick didn't buy it. Her tone was too light, too dismissive. He knew she was hiding something.

He wanted to press further, but a nurse knocked on the door to remind them about his scheduled scan at this moment.

Wordlessly, Minerva brought over the wheelchair and pushed him to the radiology department.

After the results came back clear, Frederick was discharged that afternoon.

Once they got home, Minerva pulled out her suitcase and began packing. She stayed up until nearly 2:00 am sorting through her things before finally calling it a night.

The next day, she slept in. Around noon, she was jolted awake by a persistent knock on her bedroom door. She rubbed her eyes and opened the door to find Frederick leaning casually against the frame.

"You're still in bed? Lunch is already on the table."

"You and your parents go ahead. I'm skipping this one. I've got errands later."

At her words, something unreadable flickered in Frederick's eyes. When he spoke again, his tone left no room for argument.

"They left early this morning and won't be back for two days. Before they left, they asked me to take care of you. I don't care what your plans are. Right now, you're coming downstairs for lunch."

Minerva didn't want to waste energy arguing over something so trivial. She nodded and reached to close the door to change.

But Frederick raised his hand, pressing it against the doorframe to keep her from shutting the door. His expression darkened. "Why is your room so empty? Where's all the stuff I gave you? The photos?"

She paused for a second, then quickly composed herself. "I'm just staying here for a short while. I never really moved in."

Frederick stared at her for a long moment, then glanced around the room.

All her belongings remained—daily necessities, the trophies she had earned over the years, and the framed portraits of her late parents.

Her excuse didn't quite add up. He looked like he was about to step inside when his phone rang.

Glancing at the caller ID, he muttered, "Be down soon."

Then, he turned and walked away.

Minerva let out a slow breath of relief and zipped her suitcase shut. After getting dressed and cleaned up, she made her way downstairs.

Laughter and casual conversation floated in from the dining room.

The moment she entered, she paused.

Yolanda was sitting on Frederick's lap, cheerfully feeding him ravioli.

"What's she doing here?" Minerva asked.

Frederick lifted a brow. "This is my house. I'll bring my girlfriend over for lunch if I want to. Any problems with that?"

"None," Minerva replied, shifting her gaze away. She sat down and picked up her breakfast.

With Frederick backing her up, Yolanda became even more smug. She faked a pout and teased, "Frederick, you and Ms. Sowle seem close. Does she stop by every day for a visit?"

Frederick chuckled and planted a kiss on Yolanda's forehead. His eyes flicked toward Minerva as he said, "Jealous? Don't be. She's just a neighbor staying over for a couple of days."

Just then, the housekeeper, Sharon Lowe, entered with a bottle of milk. Knowing Minerva was about to transfer her residency there, she froze at what she heard. "But isn't Ms. Sowle about to—"

"Sharon, could you switch my milk out for some oat milk instead?"

Minerva quickly cut Sharon off mid-sentence. As she turned around, she caught Frederick watching her closely, his gaze sharp and probing.

"What's about to happen?"

She replied casually, "Nothing important. I'll be gone by then."

Frederick assumed she meant moving back to her place and didn't press further.

Yolanda casually picked up the glass of milk, lifting it to Frederick's lips as if to feed him. But he simply tapped her lips, his tone lazy and teasing. "Use this."

A flush crept up Yolanda's cheeks. She mumbled something half-heartedly about how annoying he was, then took a sip of milk and kissed him with it still on her lips.

The slick, intimate sounds coming from the dining room turned Minerva's stomach and killed her appetite entirely.

She put down her utensils, grabbed her bag, and walked out the door.

…

When she arrived at the tattoo parlor, she lay down without saying a word.

The name that had taken two painstaking hours to ink into her skin was erased in less than 30 minutes.

By the time it was over, Minerva was drenched in sweat, her face as pale as a ghost. She sat in the waiting area for a long time, her hands trembling slightly as she tried to gather her strength before heading back.

The house was quiet when she returned, and for a second, she assumed the two of them had already left.

But as she reached the second floor and neared her bedroom, a strange rustling sound made her stop in her tracks.

The moment she pushed the door open, her heart dropped.

The room was a disaster—clothes, decor, and makeup products were scattered all over the floor. Her dresser drawers were open, her wardrobe torn through, and everything lay in an abandoned heap.

Right in front of the ransacked closet stood Yolanda, who turned with an unbothered smile on her face.

"You're back? Frederick tore my dress earlier, so he told me to grab something from your room. I couldn't find anything that fit, and well... I guess I made a bit of a mess. Sorry about that."