Back home, I found myself saying, "Millie, be good. Mommy's making your favorite for dinner tonight—baked ribs."

Silence answered me.

That's when I remembered—Millie was gone.

Just like my mother before her. Everyone I love slips away, leaving me alone.

My strength gave out, and I collapsed onto the bed, clutching Millie's favorite doll, holding it tight as if her scent still lingered on it.

Millie had always been so easy to reassure; she believed anything I told her. Every birthday, she'd sit on her little stool, waiting for her dad. And every year, Liam never showed.

When she was diagnosed, I called him over and over as her birthday came up, but he never answered. So I put on a smile and said, "Daddy's on a secret mission and can't be here, but he sent you a special gift." Then I handed her the doll.

Millie hugged that "gift from Daddy" right up until her last breath.

I used to tell myself Liam just wasn't one for remembering birthdays. But one day, I saw him post a picture celebrating Vivian's niece. The room was packed with plush toys, covering every inch of the place.

So he did remember birthdays. He just didn't care about ours.

Then I heard the front door code beep.

I barely made it out of the bedroom before Liam grabbed me by the throat, slamming me against the wall. Pain shot through my back.

"Where are you hiding Millie?" His voice was like ice. "Why did the school say she hasn't attended in over six months?

"Your mother gave her life for me, and for ten years my family's looked after you. Wasn't that enough?

"I put up with you using Millie to cling to me, and now what? Trying to force me to marry you by hiding her?"

The pain in my chest and throat was crushing; I couldn't even gasp for air.

My Millie—she could barely stand, let alone go to school. She waited for him until her last breath, and he never showed.

I remembered her birthday, just a week before she died. Liam had promised to visit, and she sat by the window, her face lighting up when she saw him heading toward the building. She clapped, smiling—right as he turned and walked away.

Later, I learned why. Vivian had called him, drunk and crying. "Liam, I know I shouldn't love you, but I can't help it," she'd sobbed.

He didn't even bother apologizing for breaking his promise, brushing it off with, "Millie has you, doesn't she? Just give her extra vitamins or something. Vivian was on the roof—I couldn't risk her doing something reckless."

Hot tears blurred my vision, and his grip loosened. For a split second, he lifted his hand, like he might actually wipe away my tears.

But then Vivian's cold gaze cut between us, freezing his hand midair. "Liam, can't you just talk things over calmly?

"Andrea, did he hurt you? Don't blame him—he's just worried sick about Millie.

"I know you don't want to let her go with him, but hiding her isn't the answer."

A bitter laugh slipped out. I turned to Liam. "Why is she even here?"

His expression turned steely. "You should be grateful she is. If it weren't for Vivian, I might've choked you to death tonight. Now, tell me—where is Millie?"

Through my tears, I started to laugh. "Do you really want to know?"

Seeing me laugh only seemed to boost his confidence. He smirked. "Have I been too soft on you? You think you can pull this kind of stunt with me? I'm telling you, if I don't see Millie today, you're out of this house."

That suited me just fine. I didn't want to stay here another second. I turned and started packing.

Liam's anger only flared more, though he and Vivian didn't stop their little duet.

"Liam, where will Andrea go?" Vivian asked, pretending to care. "She probably doesn't even have enough money to rent a place."

Liam scoffed. "If she's that desperate, she can come begging. Tell me where Millie is, Andrea, and I might throw you a few scraps for old time's sake."

I ignored them both. He still thought I was using Millie to manipulate him.

As I carefully packed a framed photo of Millie from the living room, Vivian reappeared from the bedroom, holding Millie's doll like a trophy, a smug smile on her face as she presented it to Liam.

"Liam, this doll is so vintage. It reminds me of toys I had as a kid. Look, it even has those little dimples on her face! Don't you think it looks a bit like me?"

Liam chuckled, patting her head. "If you like it, it's yours."

My hands clenched. I stepped forward, glaring at him. "That's Millie's favorite toy. What gives you the right to give it away?"

His response was as callous as ever. "It's a raggedy doll. What's it worth, anyway? Why are you so worked up? I could buy Millie a whole room full of dolls—she'd be thrilled and wouldn't care about this worthless thing."

Before he could finish, I grabbed a heavy ornament from the table and hurled it at him. He wasn't quick enough; the sharp edge hit his forehead, and blood started trickling down.

Vivian's face went pale. "Have you lost your mind? You hit Liam over a stupid doll?"

Vivian threw herself into his arms, tears streaming as she fussed over his injury. "I'm sorry, Liam. This is my fault. I shouldn't have taken Andrea's things."

Liam's face darkened, and in a burst of anger, he tore the doll's arm clean off and tossed it at my feet.

Just like Millie's life—once gone, it was gone.

A wave of helplessness washed over me. I had nothing left.

The room buzzed around me as I lifted my hand and slapped Vivian across the face, shouting, "That was Millie's keepsake! I hate you both!"

I raised my hand again, but this time Liam caught my wrist mid-air. Vivian buried her face in his chest, her eyes glinting with smug satisfaction.

I glared up at him. "Millie is dead. You could buy a thousand dolls now, and it wouldn't matter. Are you happy?"

His face went ice-cold. "Millie is your daughter too, but all you ever do is curse her. Do you even have a heart? She's probably as messed up as you made her. Since you're so hopeless, get out. Millie has no mother now!"

Suddenly, his phone rang, cutting through the tense silence. He answered, and his grandmother's voice came through, sharp and unmistakable.

"Liam, where were you on Millie's birthday?"

He kept his face blank. "Grandma, you're back? I was busy with work that day—couldn't get away."

"You fool! Do you even know that was Millie's last birthday? She died that very day!"