My boyfriend passed away from illness. Before he died, he asked me to look after his only younger brother—Callum Ressler.

I put Callum through college, and helped him build his company from the ground up.

Then one night, after a round of drinking at some work function, he ended up in bed with me.

While I wrestled with what we were to each other, I noticed something on his office desk: a photo of me, framed neatly beside an engagement ring.

My heart stirred.

I pushed open the lounge door, ready to finally talk about us.

But just as the door creaked open, a white camisole fell at my feet.

I froze.

Callum pulled the covers tightly around a shocked female assistant.

"Diana, ever heard of knocking?" he snapped.

Face pale, limbs suddenly uncoordinated, I started backing out. But the assistant's timid voice stopped me. "Diana… could you hand me my clothes?"

I ignored the hostility behind her eyes, grabbed the garment, tossed it onto the bed, and left in a hurry.

Once I stepped outside the company building, Callum called. "Diana, you should really stop barging into my room like that."

I laughed and agreed. From that moment on, I never stepped into his world again.

I came home and drew the curtains tightly shut.

Not a sliver of light could seep into the living room. The dimness calmed me, made it easier to breathe.

I curled up on the sofa and dialed my agent's number.

"Samuel," I said quietly, "you suggested I study abroad to refine my technique. I'll go."

Samuel Harper laughed, genuinely pleased. While praising my bright future, he couldn't help but ask, "What about Callum? Can you really leave him behind?"

"You always said he seemed young, like he still needed looking after," he added.

I pulled the blanket tighter around myself.

"He's grown up now," I murmured. "He doesn't need me anymore."

I drifted for a moment, caught in the haze of memory.

When my boyfriend Sean Ressler died, his last and only concern was me—and his little brother, Callum Ressler.

I had no family of my own. Callum was alone too. Loving him, making him the center of my world, gave me a reason to keep going.

After that absurd night, I'd woken before him. I stared at him for a moment, then bolted.

That was the first time it truly hit me—he was no longer a boy.

But the way those feelings shifted overnight left me unmoored. I couldn't sort any of it out, so I left. Traveled. Tried to clear my mind.

Still, Callum called me. He asked where I had gone, as if nothing had changed.

I didn't realize then that he hadn't figured things out—he had simply forgotten.

He had someone else now.

And me? I was no longer someone who had any place in his life.

After hanging up with my agent, I called Callum.

He picked up quickly. "Diana, what's up?"

I had meant to tell him everything. About that night. About what it meant. I wanted to draw a line and end the story of us, properly.

But before I could speak, a girl's voice broke in through the receiver.

"Callum, it's already so late, and she's still calling you? Doesn't she know how to keep some boundaries between men and women? She's not into you, is she?"

Caryn Dudley's hostility was blatant.

Callum's tone turned cold. "Diana, maybe don't call me this late anymore. It's easy for people to get the wrong idea. I'm hanging up."

He had never spoken to me like that before. By the time I gathered myself, the call had already ended. Long ago.

I looked at the clock.

It wasn't even eight yet.

That wasn't late by any measure.

There was a time when I could call Callum at three or four in the morning, and he'd answer right away, asking what was wrong.

Now, my call was just a nuisance.

I let out a quiet, bitter laugh and pulled the blanket tighter around me.

Maybe I was just too tired.

Even the thunder, the wind, the sudden downpour—none of it could wake me.

Not until the window shattered.

And in my drowsy haze, I fell into a pair of warm, rain-drenched arms.

"Callum, what's wrong?" I asked.

His body was tense. In the dark, his hand reached out to touch my cheek. Only after confirming there were no tears did he finally explode.

"Diana, there's thunder and pouring rain. And you won't answer your phone or reply to my messages. Are you trying to scare me to death?"

It was only then I noticed the sound of rain against my windows.

A delayed wave of fear surged up, and I instinctively gripped his hand. My voice was hoarse. "I didn't hear it."

Sean had died on a night like this.

Ever since, I couldn't sleep when it rained. Neither could Callum. For five years, we'd gotten through stormy nights hand in hand, comforting each other through the dread.

He would whisper to me, over and over again, telling me not to be afraid.

But now, his face was pale.

He stared at me for a long time before speaking. "You're staying at my place tonight."

I pulled away and shook my head.

"You have someone you like now. It wouldn't be appropriate."

His concern had briefly thawed the numbness in my chest. But then my eyes caught the faint lipstick stain on his collar, and the warmth slipped away, swallowed whole by a cold void.

His expression darkened. His voice was sharp. "Diana, don't be like this. I left Caryn at the restaurant because I knew you'd be scared. And now what? You want to stay here, call me after I go back, crying and begging me to come over again? Might as well save us both the trouble and come now."

I pressed my lips together and said nothing.

In the past, I could call him because we only had each other. And he was scared too.

But now he had someone else. No matter how tangled my feelings were, I couldn't justify inserting myself into someone else's relationship.

I turned toward my bedroom. "I'm not going. Go be with your girlfriend. I'll be fine on my own."

Before I could take another step, Callum grabbed my wrist and yanked me toward the door.

His grip was tight, painful. I struggled hard. "Callum, what the hell are you doing? I said I'm not going!"

He frowned, irritation flickering across his face.

Then, without a word, he lost his patience. He swept me into his arms, holding me tightly.

He carried me outside, grabbing an umbrella on the way out.

The rain fell hard, but my body stayed dry. His didn't. His shoulders were quickly soaked through.

Despite myself, I felt a pang of worry.

What if he caught a cold?

I stopped struggling and rested quietly against him.

But after only a few steps, he froze. His whole body tensed.

I turned my head.

Not far away stood Caryn.

Her umbrella lay on the ground, rain drenching her hair and clothes. Tears and rain mixed on her pale face.

She swayed slightly, her voice barely audible. "What… what is this?"

Callum's arms slackened. He gently set me down.

Before I could even regain my balance, he had already rushed toward her, shielding her with the umbrella.

I hit the ground hard, watched him comforting her, watched as he got ready to take her home.

Before leaving, he looked back at me.

"Diana, find a hotel tonight. I'm taking Caryn home."

With that, they walked away—without looking back.

But my focus wasn't on them anymore.

All I could feel was the sharp pain in my lower abdomen… and the blood pooling in the rain.

I don't know when I passed out. But when I woke up, the news hit me all at once.

Pregnancy. Miscarriage.

I placed a hand on my stomach, flat as ever.

And felt… nothing.

No sorrow. No tears. Just silence.

I never expected the child to show up—so when it left, I felt no sadness. Only a quiet sense of how life plays its little tricks.

While my thoughts drifted, the nurse came in for rounds.

She gave me a once-over. "You're awake? Your attending physician covered your medical bills. You didn't have a phone on you when you came in. We had no way to contact your family."

Then she pulled her phone from her pocket and handed it to me. "Since you're awake now, you can call them yourself."

I knew Callum's number by heart.

I dialed. The line connected quickly.

A sweet, girlish voice answered. "Hi, Callum's busy right now. If it's something important, please call back later."

Bitterness rose in my throat. I kept my voice steady. "Alright."

She recognized me. Her tone changed, light and mocking. "Oh, it's Diana. Callum said he won't be taking your calls anymore. I hope you'll stop disturbing us."

She was about to hang up when I spoke softly, "Wait… let me just say a few words to him."

But before I could speak, she sniffled and began to cry.

"Callum, does Diana really like you?" Her voice trembled, loud enough for me to hear every word. "She knows how we feel about each other, but she still won't back off. If she truly loved you, I'd even give you up for her."

He sighed. "Caryn, don't talk like that. Diana was my brother's girlfriend."

The nurse standing nearby shifted uncomfortably, cleared her throat, then turned away—pretending not to hear.

I tightened the blanket over my aching body, pressing against the pain in my chest with every breath.

Before I could respond, the line went dead.

I sat still for a moment, then called my agent.

A miscarriage wasn't considered a major procedure. I was discharged the same day.

Back home, I arranged for someone to replace the window Callum had broken the night before.

Then I slid the medical report into the top drawer of my bedside table.

That drawer held all my most precious things:

The belongings my parents left behind, Sean's keepsakes, proof that my child had existed, and the charm pendant Callum had begged for on my behalf when I fell ill three years ago.

I took out Sean's belongings—there was still a faint bloodstain on them.

I talked to him for a long time, updating him on Callum, on everything.

Then, carefully, I placed it all back inside.

"Sean," I whispered, "I'm going to live my own life now."

After locking the drawer, I packed my luggage and booked a flight five days out.

For the next five days, I stayed home and painted.

Callum, meanwhile, was off traveling with Caryn. Their couple photos were sent to me, one after another, from an unfamiliar number.

I knew it was Caryn.

During those five days, Callum called me more than once. I didn't answer.

Then, the day they returned, I got a call from another unknown number.

"Diana," Caryn said, her tone giddy, "Callum proposed to me."

We'd only spoken three times before, and I'd barely said a word each time.

Now, I gave her a single response. "Alright."

Then she sent me a photo—her hand with a ring on it.

I swallowed the bitterness rising in my chest and replied, "Congratulations."

Then I ended the call and drove to the airport.

Just before boarding, a message from Callum popped up.

[Diana, where are you? You're not home.]

Then his calls came, one after another. I ignored them all.

Only when I was about to turn off my phone did I finally answer.

"Callum," I said. "Take care of yourself. Goodbye."

Then came his voice—rough, almost broken. "I saw what you kept in your nightstand! Is that why you're leaving? Because of your pregnancy and the miscarriage? Are you leaving out of guilt because you think you've let my brother down?"