"A few cheap, pre-made dishes will make her happy. If she’s happy, she won’t challenge your position. Why don’t you understand my good intentions?"

"Don’t go to her place anymore, Emily. Her place is small and inconvenient. If you get hurt, it’s me who’ll feel bad."

Emily snorted, dissatisfied. "I just don’t want to see her monopolize my brother, not even for a single day. My brother is mine. Who is she? She’s lost, so why would she come back? Can’t she just die out there?!"

My brother scratched her nose indulgently. "Okay, okay, I’ll find an excuse from now on and not go to Emily anymore. I’ll just spend every day with my little princess, okay?"

"Hmph, that’s more like it."

A surge of pain rushed through my heart, and I leaned against the wall, somewhat exhausted.

So, this is what my brother always thought. The more I’ve suffered, the more I should be content. Even a small favor is enough to make me willingly abandon.

To be Miss Gardner, a lifelong lover of no one.

He’s worked so hard, sacrificing himself so much for his precious sister.

He even has to set aside one day every month to persuade me not to covet his sister’s position.

But clearly, before I was five,

he said I was the only little princess he loved in this world.

He said he wanted his sister to live a happy, carefree life.

So, my name is Vivian.

I thought he would remember what he promised.

But it turns out I was the only one who remembered.

Tears fell without warning, burning my cheeks.

The old wound in my heart suddenly throbbed, and I remembered the doctor’s advice that emotional fluctuations could relapse.

I desperately raised my head, and the tears I’d suppressed flowed into my throat, bitter and astringent.

I turned away from the two laughing and joking people. I turned silently, walked into the crowd, and left alone.

Perhaps, I should have left long ago. After all, there’s someone who truly loves me, waiting for me far away.

Andrew Gardner seemed to sense something and hurriedly looked up, but found nothing.

He clutched his chest, which was a little uncomfortable, and pulled out his phone to send a message to his assistant.

The assistant quickly replied,

"Mr. Gardner, I personally handed the invitation to Miss Vivian. She looked at it and put it in her bag. She didn’t react too strongly."

Andrew finally breathed a sigh of relief.

He knew I cared about him so much that I would silently accept whatever decision he made.

The next day, my brother came to pick me up.

I leaned quietly against the car door. My brother glanced at me in the rearview mirror.

"Vivian, I’ll find you a new place to live."

When I didn’t say anything, he cleared his throat awkwardly.

"There’s a new apartment building in the north of the city, close to the subway, and only half an hour from the main house…"

Before he could finish his sentence, the ringtone that belonged only to Emily rang. "What? Swollen feet? Wait, brother’s coming soon."

After hanging up, he remembered I was still in the car.

He touched his nose, feeling a little guilty. "Vivian, Emily sprained…"

"Okay," I interrupted with a smile. "I’ll go myself."

Andrew hesitated, looking at my thin, lonely figure and suppressing his irritation.

He thought he’d wait until Emily’s birthday party was over before coaxing me properly.

After all, to him, I was easily moved by even the smallest favors.

I pushed open the dress shop.

But my steps stopped at the door.

At the counter, Emily, holding a pair of scissors, was haphazardly cutting a dress.

It was the coming-of-age gown my mother had designed for me before she died.

This is all I have left of her.

For so many years, I kept it carefully wrapped in my closet, afraid it would fade or snag, afraid even of light.

Now, the packaging lay torn on the floor, the dress shredded into pieces. I felt like I'd been slapped hard, my head buzzing.

"Who allowed you to touch my things?" I practically yelled.

Emily, startled, stepped back.

The scissors in her hand ripped along the front of the dress, tearing it in two.

My mind exploded with a bang.

My hand instinctively shot up, but before I could touch Emily, Andrew shoved me away.

I crashed into the decorative cabinet behind me,

and several ceramic ornaments toppled, shattering around me across the floor.

This time, Andrew glared at me, no longer pretending to defend me.

"Vivian, are you crazy? You're going to hit someone over a dress?"

Emily hid behind him, a look of innocence softening her face. "Sister, I just thought the dress was too old-fashioned, so I wanted to alter it. I didn’t mean to."

She covered her arm and hissed.

Andrew nervously stared at the thin scratch left by the broken porcelain. His face darkened, furious.

"I knew you were such an ungrateful person, rotten to the core. What kind of upbringing could you possibly have?"

"You lose control over the smallest thing. You’re not even as good as a strand of Emily’s hair. I’m glad I left you out all these years. If you’d been married into the Walker family, your behavior would have been enough to make your parents shudder."

Her words cut like a barbed whip, ripping open wounds that had scabbed countless times, blood-soaked and draining every last piece of strength.

Emily stepped forward and grabbed my arm, crying pitifully, "Sister, if you’re angry, hit me. Don’t argue with me."

Her fingertips dug into my wounds, and I instinctively flinched.

She screamed, collapsing heavily despite her slight frame.

Andrew’s slap came down hard.

My head tilted from the blow, a buzzing filling my vision. Through the scattered hair, I saw his eyes, cold and almost murderous. "For a piece of torn clothing, you dare do this to your sister? Apologize to Emily immediately, otherwise—"

"Don’t even think about ever entering the Walker family’s house again."

I lowered my head, my mind numb.

I didn’t want to cry, yet the tears fell, beading like a broken string.

I wanted to ask, if you don’t love me, why did you bring me back?

But in the end, I just picked up the scraps of fabric from the floor, held them close, turned around, and stumbled out of the boutique.

Andrew’s scolding echoed behind me, "I don’t have such a shameful sister. Let her go back and reflect on her actions."

The night before the banquet, Andrew sent me a voice message.

It dripped with self-righteous fairness.

"Vivian, Emily cried all day because of you. Tomorrow at the banquet, I’ll give her the crown I made for you as an apology. I’ve already pleaded for you. Come tomorrow and apologize to Emily. Don’t make things difficult for me."

I found it almost amusing. I packed the last piece of clothing into my suitcase and replied, "Okay."

Andrew’s call came immediately,

his tone uncertain, tentative, "Vivian, you… Aren’t you angry?"

"No."

There was a pause on the other end of the line. "So, did you read everything on the invitation?"

"Yes, I did."

Andrew finally breathed a sigh of relief, secretly laughing at his own paranoia.

But deep down, unease lingered; my reaction felt unnaturally calm.

He secretly told himself he’d make it up to me after the birthday party.

The next day, all the invited friends and family had arrived.

When Andrew walked in with Emily, dressed in her finery, the driver hurriedly told him he hadn’t picked me up.

His heart skipped a beat.

Thinking of my reaction on the phone last night, an unprecedented panic washed over him.

He fumbled for his phone, but in his anxiety, he couldn’t unlock it for a long time.

When the call finally connected, it rang until it nearly cut off before being answered.

Andrew didn’t realize his voice was already shaking unnaturally.

"Vivian, where are you? Everyone’s waiting for you! Brother’s going to take you home today."

I pulled my suitcase out of the station and looked at the man waving at me from a distance.

"I’m home."