It felt as if time had rewound, back to when she was just a little girl—those golden days when it was only her, Mom and Dad, a perfect family of three.

Every evening, Dad would come home from work with bags full of her favorite foods and sometimes, if she was lucky, he'd bring her a new doll. Mom would always complain, “You’re just spoiling her!” even as she helped unpack the gifts, her eyes sparkling with joy.

“Should we hang this pink one above Evelyn’s bed? She loves pink!” Mom would ask with a grin, holding up the latest doll.

And like magic, Dad would always pull out one more surprise—this time for Mom. Sometimes it was a single flower, sometimes a delicate necklace. Mom would blush and laugh, eventually throwing herself into his arms, her protests melting away.

To Evelyn, her parents’ love had always seemed unshakable, indestructible—like a fortress no one could breach. Even when she misbehaved and Mom got angry, it never truly disrupted the harmony between them.

But then, the cracks started to show.

At first, Dad began coming home later and later. Mom grew more irritable, her temper flaring over the smallest things. The laughter that used to fill their home became less frequent. And eventually, the gifts stopped coming—no more dolls for Evelyn, no more flowers or necklaces for Mom.

Late at night, Evelyn would hear Mom’s voice rise into a storm, hysterically confronting Dad, “Who is she? Who is that woman?!”

It wasn’t until much later that Evelyn pieced it together. The family she’d once thought unbreakable had started to fall apart long ago. The tiny cracks had grown into a chasm too wide to bridge.

Eventually, her parents divorced. Evelyn stayed with her mom, while Dad remarried a woman she didn’t recognize. The day they met, the new “auntie” greeted her with a syrupy smile.

“Evelyn, I’m your mom now too. Call me ‘Mom,’ and I’ll give you a red packet! How about that?”

“Or I’ll buy you new clothes!” she added sweetly.

Evelyn clenched her fists. She stayed silent at first, then shouted, her voice trembling with rage, “I won’t call you that! You’re the mistress! You stole my dad!”

The woman’s smile froze and her father’s hand came down hard on Evelyn’s face.

“How dare you speak like that?! Is this what your mother has been teaching you?!”

The woman stepped in, her tone soft but tinged with defeat. “Don’t hit her. She’s just going through a rebellious phase—it’s normal that she doesn’t like me.”

Her father sighed, resting a hand on the woman’s stomach. “I hope our future child won’t grow up to be like this.”

That was the moment Evelyn realized—her father no longer had room for her in his heart. He had a new family now. She ran out crying, wiping her face as she went and from that day on, he barely reached out to her.

It took nearly a decade for Evelyn to come to terms with it. People leave. Parents, lovers—it doesn’t matter. In the end, everyone leaves.

By the time she graduated college and her mother announced she was remarrying, Evelyn accepted it without protest. She’d already learned to expect abandonment.

But then came Christopher.

Despite all her scars, she gave him everything—her trust, her heart, her love—without hesitation. And just when she thought she’d finally found someone to hold onto, she discovered the truth.

There was someone else.

For the sake of that other woman, Christopher belittled her, punished her and humiliated her. Even when Evelyn spiraled into depression, even after she attempted to end her life multiple times, he barely noticed.

No one in this world had ever truly cherished her—not her father, not her mother, not Christopher.

Love always has an expiration date. Once it’s over, it’s gone forever.

Evelyn had once fought against that truth, but now she’d experienced it so often that she’d grown numb.

When she finally opened her eyes, two days had passed. An IV drip was attached to her hand and a fever-reducing patch rested on her forehead.

The first thing she saw was Christopher’s hand reaching out, his palm hovering above her forehead as if to check her temperature.

Evelyn’s eyelashes fluttered as she slowly opened her eyes. For a moment, her blurry gaze locked with Christopher’s before he quietly withdrew his hand.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice low and rough, heavy with fatigue. “My Aunt made porridge. Get up and have some later.”

He looked exhausted, his features worn, as if he hadn’t rested properly in days.

As her awareness sharpened, so did the pain. It radiated from her legs, sharp and relentless, but Evelyn endured it. Her voice was soft, almost fragile, as she asked, “If one day I’m gone... will you marry Charlotte?”

Christopher froze, his gaze darkening as he stared at her. His tone turned firm, laced with a controlling edge. “Where are you planning to go?”

Evelyn didn’t answer directly. Instead, she repeated her question, her voice quieter this time. “I mean, if I leave... will you marry her?”

“There’s no such possibility.”

His response was quick, almost impatient. He adjusted her blanket with a hint of annoyance, his eyes narrowing. “As long as you behave and stop throwing these tantrums, I’ll love you just as much as I always have.”

Evelyn gave him a faint smile, one filled with a quiet resignation. She could feel the cold liquid from the IV drip seeping into her veins, mending her broken body piece by piece. Her voice was soft, tinged with helplessness.

“But Christopher... I’ve never changed.”

***

Evelyn spent the next month confined to her bed.

Some days she scrolled through her phone, other days she lost herself in books. Often, though, she just lay there staring blankly at the ceiling, her thoughts a jumble of tangled memories and emotions.

Charlotte came by daily, her presence like a bitter wind. Sometimes she would sneer, throwing taunts in Evelyn’s direction, but Evelyn never responded. Her silence seemed to frustrate Charlotte, as if she were punching air.

Eventually, Charlotte stopped trying to provoke her. Instead, she focused her energy on something else—planning Christopher’s wedding.

Staring at the wedding photos of Evelyn and Christopher, Charlotte’s jealousy burned like an uncontrollable flame. Those pictures should have been hers. Christopher should have been hers. The thought of them walking down the aisle together, holding hands, kissing, sharing a bed—it was unbearable.

Sitting on her sofa, Charlotte clenched her fists tightly. This wedding cannot happen.

Something had to be done.

***

An hour later, Charlotte appeared at Evelyn’s house with a glass of water in her hand.

Evelyn was reading a book, her body curled up quietly on the bed. Her slender fingers gently turned the pages, her gaze calm and serene.

“Here,” Charlotte said, her voice trembling as she held out the glass. “Drink some water.”

Evelyn glanced up at her, her eyes drifting to the glass. She noticed the slight tremor in Charlotte’s hand, the pale hue of her face, the nervous waver in her tone. It didn’t take much for Evelyn to realize there was something wrong with the water.

But instead of calling her out, Evelyn asked softly, “You’re having surgery tomorrow, right? Are you nervous?”

Charlotte gripped the glass tighter, her throat tightening. She opened her mouth to answer, but Evelyn spoke again, her voice calm yet carrying an unsettling weight.

“If I drink this water and something happens to me... you won’t live long either.” Evelyn’s eyes met hers, unwavering. “Are you sure you want me to drink it?”

Charlotte froze, her brows furrowing. “What do you mean?”

Evelyn’s lips curled into a faint smile. She gestured toward her chest, her tone light yet cutting.

“Someone needs a heart transplant. Yours, to be exact. And it just so happens I don’t want to live anymore. I signed the papers for the donation.” Her voice dropped, chillingly casual. “The heart you’ll be receiving tomorrow is mine.”

Charlotte’s grip on the glass faltered and with a loud clang, it shattered on the floor. She stared at Evelyn, her face draining of color. “What... what are you talking about? Your heart? Are you saying... you signed the contract?”

Evelyn calmly reached into her bedside drawer and pulled out a document. She handed it to Charlotte, her expression unchanging.

“To be honest, I didn’t know the recipient was you when I signed it. The doctor wanted to keep it confidential. If I had known, I never would have agreed.”

Charlotte’s hands trembled as she scanned the paper. Her voice cracked. “You’re lying. You’re lying to me! Why would you give me your heart?!”

Evelyn’s smile deepened, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Why would I lie? It’s the truth. You wanted to take my life away... and now, I’m giving it to you. How poetic.”

Charlotte stared at the paper in disbelief, her chest tightening with dread.

Evelyn turned another page in her book, her expression indifferent, as though the chaos unfolding before her was no more than a scene in a distant play.

Christopher’s voice sharpened. “Evelyn, I’m talking to you! What happened here?”

She looked up lazily, her eyes cold and detached. “I already told you. She fell. Maybe you should ask her what she was doing before that happened.”

Christopher clenched his jaw, his arms tightening protectively around Charlotte, who gasped weakly in his embrace. He reached for his phone and called for an ambulance, his voice trembling with urgency.

Evelyn observed him silently. The man she had once loved so deeply, now pouring his energy and care into someone else. Someone who had schemed and manipulated her way into his life. The irony was almost amusing.

As the sound of sirens approached in the distance, Christopher’s anger boiled over. “Is this how you want to play it, Evelyn? Watching someone suffer without lifting a finger? You’ve changed—no, maybe this is who you’ve been all along.”

Evelyn closed her book with a soft thud, the sound echoing in the tense room. She met his furious gaze with an unsettling calm.

“Changed?” she repeated, her voice low and steady. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve just stopped pretending to care when it’s clear no one cares for me.”

Christopher flinched at her words but quickly masked it with more anger. “This isn’t about you. It’s about Charlotte, who’s fighting for her life right now while you sit there reading like nothing’s happened!”

Evelyn smirked, leaning back against the headboard. “Fighting for her life? Dramatic, isn’t it? But if it helps you sleep at night, go ahead and play the hero.”

Before Christopher could respond, the paramedics burst into the room, swiftly taking over. They carefully lifted Charlotte onto a stretcher, administering oxygen as they prepared to transport her.

As they carried her out, Charlotte managed to glance back at Evelyn, her eyes filled with a mix of desperation and hatred. Evelyn met her gaze, unyielding and emotionless.

Once the paramedics left, the room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the heater. Christopher stood frozen by the door, his fists clenched at his sides.

“You’re heartless,” he finally said, his voice trembling with rage. “I don’t even recognize you anymore.”

Evelyn tilted her head, a faint, sardonic smile playing on her lips. “Heartless? Funny, coming from you. After all, I’m about to literally give her my heart.”

Christopher froze, confusion flashing across his face. “What… what are you talking about?”

Evelyn’s smile widened, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, you didn’t know? Charlotte’s surgery tomorrow—the heart she’s waiting for? It’s mine.”

His expression shifted from confusion to disbelief, then horror. “Stop joking, Evelyn. This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking.” Her voice was ice. “Check with her doctor if you don’t believe me. The contract’s been signed, the preparations are done. Once she has my heart, you can live happily ever after with her. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

Christopher staggered back a step, his face pale. “Why… Why would you do this?”

“Why not?” Evelyn’s tone was indifferent. “I’m tired, Christopher. Tired of fighting, tired of being hurt, tired of hoping for something that’s never going to happen. If my death can give someone else a chance at happiness, then so be it.”

He stared at her, stunned, the weight of her words crashing down on him. For the first time, he saw the emptiness in her eyes, the scars she had hidden behind her quiet smiles and sharp words.

“Evelyn…” he began, but she cut him off.

“Don’t,” she said firmly, her gaze hardening. “Save your pity for someone who needs it. Go. Charlotte needs you.”

Christopher hesitated, torn between staying and leaving, but the sound of the ambulance fading into the distance made his decision for him. He turned and walked out the door, leaving Evelyn alone once again.

As the door clicked shut, Evelyn leaned back against the headboard, her hands trembling ever so slightly. She closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath.

In the quiet of the room, she whispered to herself, “It’s better this way.”

But the silence that followed was deafening, pressing against her like an unbearable weight. For all her talk of being tired, of wanting to let go, the emptiness still hurt.

And yet, she smiled—a bitter, hollow smile. Because this, too, was part of her truth.

She had loved. She had lost. And now, she was ready to disappear.