“How’s the surgery coming along? Did they find a donor?” Charlotte asked, her tone light and cheerful.

Her smile brightened as she added, “Oh, I was just about to tell you—Mother sent word. It’s all settled. The donor is from Cedar Creek and the surgery is scheduled for the end of the month. The paperwork’s already signed.”

Christopher gave a small nod. “Be sure to thank them. This surgery is risky—you could still die on the operating table.”

Charlotte frowned, brushing the concern aside with a casual wave. “There’s no need. Mother mentioned the donor insisted on staying anonymous. Apparently, they didn’t want to meet me and even refused the money we offered.”

Her lips curved into a faint smile as she added, “From what Mother said, the donor has been dealing with depression for a long time—didn’t want to live anymore. It took a lot of convincing for them to agree. Let’s not bother them unnecessarily.”

Charlotte’s emotions were a whirlwind that day—disheartened by Christopher’s persistent concern for Evelyn, yet buoyed by the news of her impending heart transplant. Despite her outward composure, unease lingered.

Someone willing to give up their heart so easily, choosing to remain anonymous… Why?

What if reaching out to thank them caused them to change their mind? The thought alone sent a chill through her.

Besides, her family had already offered payment and the donor had refused. If the donor no longer valued their life, perhaps they viewed this as a form of gratitude to themselves.

Christopher’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Alright. Handle it as you see fit.”

Charlotte exhaled in relief, her tense shoulders relaxing. She gave him a soft, bashful smile. “Chris, you said you’d grant me any birthday wish this year. About the wish I just made…”

“No.”

He cut her off sharply before she could finish.

Her smile faltered and she noticed the shift in his expression. His eyes had opened, cold and unyielding, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.

“I won’t leave Evelyn. Don’t bring it up again, Charlotte. I’ll grant you anything else, but not this.”

For a moment, Charlotte sat frozen, the rejection sinking in. The corners of her lips twitched awkwardly, but she quickly recovered, masking her disappointment with her usual charm.

Disguising her true feelings had become second nature—she knew exactly how to present herself as the woman Christopher admired.

Two seconds later, she giggled lightly, as though his stern words had rolled right off her. “Alright, then let’s pretend I didn’t make that wish. But if that one doesn’t count, you still owe me a wish for later, okay? You’ll have to agree to one condition in the future!”

Her playful tone was enough to make Christopher chuckle. “Fine. Save it for later.”

Satisfied, Charlotte straightened up, choosing not to press the issue further.

But inside, resentment burned hotter than ever, simmering beneath her polished facade.

This was the first time Christopher had denied her anything—and it was because of that woman, Evelyn, who had only entered their lives five years ago.

In the past, Christopher had entertained other women in his life, but none of them had ever mattered. Charlotte had always been his priority, his constant. If she’d asked him to end things with someone, he wouldn’t have hesitated.

Why was Evelyn different? What made her so special?

If Charlotte hadn’t left for her studies abroad, Evelyn would never have had the chance to worm her way into Christopher’s life.

But no matter. Soon, Charlotte’s health would be restored and time would be on her side. She had no intention of losing to Evelyn.

***

Later that night, when Christopher returned home, he found Evelyn still kneeling in the snow.

Her body trembled from the cold and snowflakes had piled onto her shoulders, forming a thick, undisturbed layer. She hadn’t even bothered to brush them off.

Christopher stood there for a moment, watching her silently. The sight of her like this stirred something unnameable within him—frustration, concern, perhaps guilt.

Finally, he walked toward her and broke the silence.

“Do you know what you did wrong?”

Evelyn’s eyelashes quivered as the frost clinging to them glinted faintly in the moonlight. The icy crust masked most of the emotions in her eyes, leaving her expression unreadable.

Evelyn lifted her head slowly, her voice barely above a whisper, hoarse and broken,

“Chris, my knees hurt.”

Her words hung in the icy air, fragile yet defiant.

Christopher let out a soft sigh, the kind that spoke of exasperation laced with resignation. He crossed his arms, visibly trying to rein in his temper.

“Evelyn, you know Charlotte and I grew up together. I’ve always been close to her and I care about her like family. That’s not something you can just change.”

He paused, searching her face for understanding, then continued, “I know you don’t like her, but you can’t lash out at her like that. She’s not in good health—her heart condition makes things worse. She can’t handle the stress.”

Christopher felt as though he was being more than fair, speaking to Evelyn with patience despite his frustration. To him, this was her chance to reflect and apologize.

If she just took responsibility, he might be willing to forgive her.

But instead, Evelyn repeated the same words, her voice softer this time,

“Chris… my knees hurt. I can’t kneel anymore.”

His patience snapped.

The calm facade melted away as his brows furrowed and anger darkened his gaze.

“Don’t act like you haven’t knelt before. You’ve been through this and come out fine. So why now? Why pretend you’re in pain after just one night?”

His voice grew sharper, harsher. “I didn’t save you or stand by you just so you could throw tantrums. Stop pushing your luck, Evelyn.”

A bitter laugh echoed in Evelyn’s mind, though her face betrayed no emotion. She had known this would happen. She had known he wouldn’t care—wouldn’t believe her.

Once, Christopher had always been the one to shield her. When he’d made her kneel in the past, it had been more for show than punishment. The moment she’d looked truly pained, he would falter, his heart softening enough to pull her back to safety.

It hadn’t taken her long to learn the rules. Back then, she could feign discomfort and he would carry her back inside, guilt etched on his face.

But this time was different.

Yesterday, everything had changed.

Evelyn and Charlotte had fought—words sharp enough to cut, leaving deep wounds. Charlotte had hurled cruel insults, accusing Evelyn of being manipulative, of worming her way into Christopher’s life and ruining their bond.

“You’re just like your mother,” Charlotte had sneered. “Pathetic, unwanted. No wonder your father left her—and you.”

Evelyn couldn’t hold back. Years of life on her own had given her a sharp tongue and she let loose with biting retorts that left Charlotte visibly shaken.

But then Charlotte had done the unthinkable. With a shove, she’d sent Evelyn tumbling down the staircase, leaving her knee bruised and swollen.

And, as if on cue, Charlotte had played the victim perfectly. The moment Christopher appeared, she clutched her chest, gasping, feigning a heart episode.

“She attacked me,” Charlotte had cried, her voice trembling.

Christopher hadn’t even looked at Evelyn before sweeping Charlotte into his arms and rushing her to the hospital.

Hours later, Evelyn had spent what little energy she had dragging herself to a clinic. The doctor’s words had been blunt: a hairline fracture in her knee. Rest and hospitalization were recommended. But Evelyn had refused, swallowing painkillers instead.

Now, after kneeling in the snow for hours, the pain had reached unbearable levels, radiating up her leg and threatening to consume her.

Christopher didn’t know any of this. He only saw her silence, interpreting it as stubbornness. His frustration mounted.

“I’ve been too lenient with you,” he finally said, his voice low but cutting. “But this time, Evelyn, I won’t let it slide.”

With that, he turned and walked into the house, leaving her alone in the biting cold.

Evelyn tilted her head back, staring at the sky as snowflakes continued to fall, their icy edges slicing into her skin like tiny knives.

The wind howled, relentless, tugging at her hair and clothes. Her lips quirked upward in a faint, bitter smile.

“You haven’t been soft on me for a long time, Chris,” she murmured.

***

When Charlotte arrived the next morning, Evelyn was still there—kneeling in the same spot, her body almost entirely buried in snow.

Charlotte snorted derisively, a cruel smile spreading across her face. “This is what happens when you cross me,” she said, her tone dripping with mockery. “So what if you’re Chris’s girlfriend? He’ll always put me first.”

Evelyn didn’t respond. Her lips were pale, her body swaying unsteadily, barely holding itself upright.

Charlotte adjusted her coat, brushing past Evelyn with deliberate force, causing her to stumble to the side.

Once inside, Charlotte shrugged off her coat and hung it neatly by the door. Her mood lightened as she spotted Christopher seated on the sofa, engrossed in a discussion with his assistant, who held a tablet and gestured animatedly.

Charlotte approached with a casual grace, her eyes glinting with anticipation.

“What are you looking at?”

Charlotte’s voice was light, almost playful, but her eyes betrayed the tension beneath her carefully composed exterior.

Christopher didn’t glance up, his focus fixed on the tablet in his hands. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips as he replied,“The venue for my wedding with Evelyn. She’s always loved traditional weddings, so I’m trying to find the perfect place.”

Charlotte’s hand froze mid-air, the casual grace of her movement faltering. A wave of bitterness surged in her chest as she forced herself to sit down beside him. Her tone was measured, but there was a sharpness to her words, “Do you really think someone from a background like hers deserves such a grand venue? Brother Chris, I think a simpler one would be just fine.”

Her words lingered in the air like a thin veil of smoke, but Christopher’s reaction was immediate.

His gaze snapped to hers, sharp and unyielding. The weight of his stare was oppressive, making Charlotte’s heart sink.

“Her background?” he repeated, his voice cold and cutting. “And what about yours? Do you think you’re somehow above her?”

The chill in his tone deepened. “Three years abroad and you’ve come back with prejudice? I thought you were better than that.”

A bead of sweat formed on Charlotte’s temple as she realized she’d misstep. She knew Christopher well enough to recognize the subtle shifts in his temper—this wasn’t something he would easily overlook.

Pasting on a strained smile, she quickly backpedaled, “That’s not what I meant, Brother Chris. I only meant that... maybe I could help? I know women best, after all. I could make sure Evelyn’s dream wedding is exactly what she wants. It’d be a nice surprise.”

Christopher studied her for a long moment, the ice in his eyes thawing just slightly. Finally, he gave a small nod. “Fine. I’ll leave it to you. But use this chance to build a better relationship with her. Evelyn is your future sister-in-law and the two of you shouldn’t be at odds all the time. It makes things... difficult for me.”

Charlotte’s nails dug into the palm of her hand, but her smile remained intact.

“Got it,” she said, her voice dripping with false enthusiasm. “I’ll take care of it.”

***

Evelyn returned home late that evening, her body trembling from hours spent in the snow.

The nanny helped her inside, but the warmth of the house offered little relief. The sudden change in temperature sent jolts of pain through her body, as though needles were piercing her skin. Her legs throbbed with an excruciating ache, as if thousands of nails were driven into her bones.

By the time she reached her room, the pain had become unbearable and her vision blurred. She collapsed onto her bed, fever overtaking her almost immediately.

She barely had time to pull the blanket over herself when the door swung open.

Charlotte entered, a smug expression on her face and a tablet clutched in her hands. She stood at the foot of the bed, her tone laced with mockery. “Oh, you’re still alive?” she sneered. “Brother Chris asked me to let you know—the bride for the wedding next month has changed. It’s me.”

She didn’t wait for a response before shoving the tablet in Evelyn’s face. On the screen were photos of luxurious wedding venues. “See? I’m already picking out the location.”

Evelyn didn’t respond. Her face was pale, lips cracked and her body shivered under the covers. She didn’t even bother to glance at the screen, her indifference cutting deeper than any retort.

Charlotte’s smirk faltered. She frowned, her voice turning sharp. “You know how Chris feels about me, don’t you? Let me warn you—get out while you can. Don’t embarrass yourself.”

She leaned closer, her words dripping with venom. “A woman like you, who was abandoned by her own parents, has no place in Chris’s life. You’re nothing but a pathetic mistress.”

Evelyn finally spoke, her voice barely audible but steady, “Don’t worry. I’ll leave soon. You don’t need to make this harder for me. Now get out.”

The words were simple but firm and Evelyn didn’t give Charlotte the satisfaction of seeing her break. She turned over, pulling the blanket tighter around her fragile frame and closed her eyes.

Charlotte stared at her in disbelief.

The Evelyn she knew would have fought back—sharp words, bitter accusations, anything to defend herself. But now, Evelyn was strangely calm, almost resigned.

It unsettled Charlotte, though she quickly dismissed the feeling. Fine, she thought. It’ll save me the trouble.

With a click of her heels, she turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her.

Once the room was quiet again, Evelyn opened her eyes.

It was hard to say what hurt more—her legs, her head, or the hollow ache in her chest.

Tears slipped silently from the corners of her eyes, soaking into her pillow. The overwhelming despair returned, suffocating her. The thought of leaving everything behind—of simply ceasing to exist—seemed almost comforting.

Her fever worsened, her thoughts growing hazy as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

In her fevered state, she dreamt of faces from her past—people she had loved, people who had mattered. The images were blurred and fleeting, but the emotions were vivid, pulling her deeper into the haze.

For a moment, she felt warmth. And then, only darkness.