Lory’s POV

Being with him every day felt like a new kind of joy.

Whenever he teased me, even my darkest moods seemed to lighten.

But then, my mind jolted back to that night.

My leg had been crushed beyond recognition, twisted and bloodied.

Gasoline mixed with my blood, its sharp stench spreading beneath me.

I remembered praying, ‘I don’t want to die. God, someone, please—save me…’

I woke from the nightmare with a gasp, as though an invisible hand was clamped around my throat, suffocating me.

Breathless and unsettled, I decided I needed a break—a day to step outside, walk a little, and clear my head.

I wandered without realizing where my feet were taking me. Only when I lifted my gaze did I see it—the same mountain road where the accident had happened years ago.

The dark tunnel loomed ahead. I froze, unable to step further.

Suddenly, the sound of brisk footsteps echoed from inside.

To my shock, Frayne emerged from the shadows.

Seven years had passed, and time had reshaped him.

His once unruly hair was now cropped short, a soft flaxen brown. His frame looked leaner. But through the thin cotton of his shirt, I could still make out the faint lines of a well-trained body.

As soon as he saw me retreat, his hand shot out and grabbed my arm.

I twisted, tried to break free twice, but his grip held firm.

Anger flared, and I turned on him, meeting his eyes as I bit out each word.

“Let me go!”

His jawline tightened. A flicker of struggle passed through his brown eyes.

Only after what felt like an eternity did he finally release me, his fingers sliding away.

“Lory,” he said softly, voice tight, “I didn’t mean anything else. I just… I only wanted to know if you’re doing well.”

“I’m doing perfectly fine,” I shot back coldly. “Satisfied? Can I leave now?”

His shoulders stiffened. He lowered his gaze, his voice quiet.

“I know you’re still angry. That day… I shouldn’t have left you behind,” he muttered. “Bettina was just a mistake of my youth. The truth is, the only one I’ve ever really loved is you.”

I drew in a sharp breath. Fury burned through me, and I gave a bitter laugh.

“Do you even know?” My voice trembled with rage. “When the accident happened, I was calling your name. I was begging you to save me.”

I scoffed. “If it hadn’t been for a passerby, I’d have died there alone.”

“And now,” I continued, “you dare to ask me to forgive you? Frayne, how shameless can you be?”

My words hit him like a blow. His tall frame swayed, the color draining from his handsome face.

I coldly pulled up the corners of my lips and turned to leave.

He had made his choice back then.

Now, he could live with the consequences.

At the corner, while I was waiting for a cab, a long-haired woman lifted her cap nearby. A mask hid most of her face, but her voice was exaggeratedly sweet.

“Long time no see, my old friend.”

I frowned and stayed silent. She pulled off her mask.

“You really are forgetful, aren’t you? It’s me—Bettina.”

Later, at a business partner’s birthday party, I drank more than usual.

I slipped out to the garden path and sat on a bench, letting the night air cool my flushed cheeks. From near the fountain, laughter and voices drifted over.

Curiosity got the better of me, and I followed the sound with my eyes.

And there she was. Bettina was dressed in a black evening gown, clinging to Frayne’s neck with mock sweetness.

“Darling,” she cooed, “after all these years, have you ever thought of me?”

My eyes narrowed. Even from a distance, her downfall was plain.

The gown was creased and ill-fitted. Her exposed back was marred with scratches and blotches.

Her once plump, collagen-rich face had sunken into sharpness.

The thick hair she used to flaunt was now thinning, streaked with white.

By all rights, no one should have been able to enter without an invitation.

For her to sneak into the manor at such risk, she must have been after something.

I remembered the past vividly.

When I left town all those years ago, my close friends had stood up for me.

They publicly exposed Bettina as the “other woman,” beating her on the street until she was black and blue.

The video was uploaded online, fueled with bought traffic and endless reposts. It became one of the most searched scandals of that year.

The school, afraid of its reputation being tarnished by her disgrace, expelled Bettina soon after.

Lory’s POV

Bettina had poor academic standing and a fiery temper. My close friends never let her out of their sight, which made it impossible for her to keep any job for long.

Eventually, her parents forced her to exchange her bride price and marry a man even older than her own father.

It was said that since she wasn’t a virgin, that old man would beat her half to death whenever he drank too much.

Her life, by all accounts, was worse than death.

That was when I finally understood her true ambition.

What she had always wanted was to marry into the Gallachers—to rewrite her fate and become their wealthy daughter-in-law.

Frayne pressed his lips together, his blue eyes calm and unreadable.

“It was me being childish back then,” he said quietly. “But the motorcycle was already leaking oil. If we didn’t race, it would’ve been dangerous.”

Bettina’s eyes grew hazy, her lips brushing along his cheek before pressing against his mouth. Her breath quickened, unsteady.

“Frayne, you once promised you would marry me,” she whispered.

Suddenly, Frayne raised his hand. A sharp crack split the night as his palm struck her face.

In an instant, a red hand-shaped mark bloomed across her cheek.

“You have no right to bargain with me!”

His eyes finally flickered with a cold, mocking scorn.

“Get out.”

When I returned to the party hall, I caught sight of Bettina from a distance. She came running toward me, her face glowing with the joy of reunion.

“Hi, Lory! We met again! How have you been lately?”

I stared at her blankly, though inside, anger surged like a rising tide.

If Frayne had been blinded by infatuation back then, maybe that could be forgiven.

But Bettina? She saw me injured, and still, she walked away without even trying to help.

To this day, I never knew why she left me then. Was lending me a hand really so difficult?

If she had pulled me out sooner, my leg wouldn’t have been left with this permanent damage.

Now, she stood before me, acting like an old friend, without even a hint of apology for what she did back then. That only deepened my resentment toward her.

“What’s wrong?” she teased, covering her mouth as she laughed. “Made it big now, and you look down on an old classmate like me?”

Her eyes narrowed into crescents as she chuckled.

“Thinking back, I realize you really were pitiful. All it took was the slightest move from me, and Frayne was hooked. Meanwhile, you kept shamelessly begging him, and he wouldn’t even spare you a glance…”

She laughed freely, trying to reclaim the pride she had lost to me through Frayne.

I slipped off my high heels, gripped an empty wine bottle. And the next second, I smashed it hard against her head.

Her eyes widened in shock, as if she couldn’t believe what had just happened.

Then, finding her voice, she screamed for help at the top of her lungs, determined to make me pay.

But what she didn’t understand was that in high society, everything was tied to interests. As long as it wasn’t murder or arson, most guests who witnessed a scandal would pretend they hadn’t seen a thing.

Pressing the jagged mouth of the broken bottle against the artery in her neck, I leaned down and whispered, my voice like ice, “Don’t let me see you again. This is the first and the last time. Do you understand?”

She looked around, still refusing to believe it. She kept calling for help from the crowd. But everyone just stood there, watching the drama unfold like it was entertainment.

When her gaze met my cold, unfeeling eyes, panic finally overtook her. She screamed, trembling.

Across the room, Frayne took a slow sip of red wine. At his signal, two security guards stepped forward and dragged Bettina away like a dead dog.

That single blow to her head had released years of pent-up rage in me.

But in its wake came another storm—an unspeakable restlessness surging through my chest, crushing bone and flesh as it spread, inch by inch, through my entire body.

I pressed a hand to my forehead and slipped out of the crowd, finding my way to a quiet path in the garden.

The night breeze brushed against my skin. Little by little, the wild turbulence inside me began to calm.

Lory’s POV

Tom came running out, holding a steaming cup of tea. He handed it to me, his voice laced with concern.

“Who was that shrew just now?” he demanded. “What on earth happened between you two?”

The warmth seeped into my cold, stiff palms, slowly thawing them. I turned to glance at his strong and resolute face. At that moment, I decided to finally unlock the secrets I had buried in my heart.

“Animals,” I whispered hoarsely. My voice rose with each word, sharp and bitter. “They’re all animals! Do they even count as human? Did something eat their conscience?”

Grinding his teeth, Tom swung his foot and kicked the lamppost so hard it rattled.

He rarely cursed, especially not in front of others. Yet now, he didn’t care about appearances at all.

For a moment, his fury stirred something deep inside me. Overcome, I leaned my head against his chest. His entire body stiffened before he wrapped me in a fierce, almost desperate embrace, as if he wanted to fuse me into himself.

“Tom,” I murmured to him, “do you… maybe like me?”

I remembered the first time we met—how his eyes had lit up with a brilliance I’d never seen before, his expression brimming with the joy of someone who had just discovered a rare treasure.

Whenever I needed a ride, he was there without hesitation, ready to be my driver. If I so much as mentioned a craving, the snack would appear the very next day.

How could someone as sensitive and fragile as I fail to notice his feelings?

And yet, that nightmare from years ago had nearly destroyed my capacity to love. I feared that if I gave my heart again, I’d only end up with the same devastation. What if, in the end, we couldn’t even remain friends?

But Tom’s voice was steady and resolute.

“I’ll wait for you,” he said. “I’ll wait until you’re ready to open your heart and accept me. Until then, just let me stay by your side.”

My nose tingled as my eyes welled. His words moved me more deeply than I expected.

Being with him felt so natural, so comfortable. It had been years—so many years—that I had forgotten what that felt like.

Just then, under the glow of the streetlight, a familiar figure appeared.

“Lory…”

Frayne called my name, his voice trembling.

I shut my eyes and turned my head away, refusing to look at him.

But Tom had already charged forward. His fist smashed into Frayne’s face with a sickening thud, his eyes blazing with a predatory fire.

“Monster! You’re not even human!” Tom roared, striking Frayne again, another heavy punch.

Blood spurted from Frayne’s mouth. Still, his expression was strangely calm.

“This has nothing to do with you!” he said hoarsely.

Tom grabbed him by the collar, his voice laced with scorn. “Nothing to do with me? You harass my girlfriend and dare say it’s none of my business?”

I looked at Tom for a moment, and then I quietly leaned into his side. My silence was my choice—I had taken my stand.

“Lory…” Frayne’s voice cracked, raw with disbelief. “This isn’t true, is it?”

Tom pulled me firmly into his arms, his laugh sharp and mocking.

“What, you think you’re the center of the universe? That everything have to revolve around you? You really do think too highly of yourself, huh?”

“Frayne,” I said flatly, “it’s over between us. The past… Let it stay in the past.”

In that instant, the last trace of color drained from his face. His lips trembled, and tears spilled from his eyes.

“Don’t treat me like this. Please… give me one more chance,” he pleaded. “I’ve been living in regret all these years, Lory. Just… give me a chance to make things right.”

I hooked my arm through Tom’s and lifted my gaze to his face. Then, I looked back at Frayne.

“You don’t need to feel guilty,” I said softly. “We once had happy moments, too. And when couples fight, who can really keep track of who owes what? Does it matter anymore?”

My throat tightened, and for the first time in years, my expression grew solemn.

“Frayne, you have your life, and I have mine. We can’t go back.”

His body shook with grief, as if the words had ripped the last thread of hope from him. He stared at me, greedily memorizing my face, burning it into his mind for the last time.

“I… I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Snowflakes drifted from the sky, the wind battering his unsteady figure until he swayed like a withered tree in the storm.

The wind howled past my ears, carrying his voice away. I couldn’t tell anymore—was it the wail of the wind, or his weeping?