I didn't care. I nearly died getting those rations—for my family.

Turns out, Willa had been handing them out behind my back. Just to hear a few thank-yous. Then she flipped it on me, said I never comforted her, never cared about her feelings. Claimed I was always breathing fire, scaring everyone off.

They ate my food, used my stuff, clung to me to stay alive.

But when things went south? They were the first to throw me under.

Whatever. Let Saint Willa deal with them.

***

Willa looked wrecked—just stood there like some sad statue.

Head tilted at the perfect angle, of course. Tears rolled down her flawless cheeks in slow motion.

Stubborn. Haloed. All tragic-heroine vibes without saying a word.

Red eyes. Pouty lips.

Total drama queen.

Made my flatbread taste amazing.

I kept chewing, soaking it in.

No wonder she was the female lead. Girl weaponized beauty.

The chat feed lit up:

[Wait, is the plot kinda off?]

["Kinda off"? It's in another galaxy.]

[Selene dipped without blinking—I nearly choked laughing.]

[What about the baby? Tristan's dead, Willa's alone—Selene's a monster.]

The bedroom door creaked.

Cough, cough.

Enzo staggered out, face burning with fever.

He clocked Miranda pocketing supplies but stayed quiet, dragging himself over to sit next to me.

"Don't be mad." He patted my head.

Then glanced at Willa—still crying like she trained for it—and sighed. "You two've been at it since forever. Isn't it time to stop? I heard everything. Don't talk to Willa like that. She's just... too nice. So nice it's stupid. You're the older one—can't you cut her some slack?"

He gave me that soft, pitying look like I was some brat who didn't know better.

I finished my flatbread, looked up. "Hm? When'd your hands come loose? Turn around."

I grabbed a rope and tied him back up quick.

"Whew. Close one."

Enzo had a sketchy little wound and a fever that wouldn't quit. For safety, he agreed to be tied up—just in case things went sideways.

Last time, I couldn't bring myself to restrain him. Locked him in my room instead.

Bad call. The bite was real.

He didn't turn zombie—ended up with a Power instead—but nothing's guaranteed now. I wasn't taking any chances.

"Selene, I know you're upset. I'm your boyfriend. I just want you to be happy. You care so much about Willa... and the baby. I'm scared you'll regret this."

Tch. What a buzzkill.

I smacked him. Hard.

His gold-rimmed glasses slipped sideways.

Then I gave his cheek a light pat. "Shut up, trash."

***

I dragged him back into the bedroom.

"Selene, untie me. Let's just talk." He flopped onto the bed, shirt bunched up, skin flushed and sweaty.

"Enzo." I brushed his face. "You're dying or what?"

"What are you even saying?" He gave a shaky laugh. "Don't jinx me."

"If you're dying, and we've never done it after all this time... kinda sad, right? I'm curious what feverish Enzo feels like." I leaned in, voice low.

"You—" He jerked, face twisted. "That's not funny, haha..."

I didn't answer. My hand was already sliding down.

"Wait!" he blurted, full panic now. "Okay, fine! I was bitten. If you sleep with me... you'll get infected."

I laughed softly, pulling my hand back. "So that's the truth."

Never actually planned to sleep with him. Just wanted to see if he'd crack.

Sure enough, the chat feed went wild:

[Shameless tramp! Still clinging to Willa's leftovers!]

[Even if he's just one of her simps, he belongs to Willa!]

[Omg Selene's smile is fire—literally gasped.]

[Hands off! He's not yours!]

...

A few backed me up, but most were straight-up hate.

Guess Enzo never really liked me after all.

Last time, he died protecting Willa. I didn't think twice—figured he cared because I did.

But the chat feed clued me in.

The Palmers lived next door. Enzo grew up with us. He'd always been into Willa.

When he finally confessed, she said, "Sorry, Selene likes you... I can't..."

She didn't want him, but she didn't want to lose his loyalty either. So, as usual, she threw me under the bus.

Enzo blamed me for getting in the way. But sticking with me let him stay close to her. He was fine with that.

He even made some dramatic vow as a kid—said he'd never touch any girl but Willa. Saving himself for her.

We were together eight years. He never laid a finger on me.

I remembered when we were little—Willa snatched my pendant.

That emerald pendant had been mine for as long as I could remember. When Willa snatched it, my gut reaction was to snatch it right back.

Before I could, Enzo showed up with a cheap plastic hairclip and that fake sunshine smile.

"Be good, Selene. Give Willa the pendant and she'll trade you this 'crystal' clip. You two need to get along. You're older—let her have it, okay?"

A busted hairclip... for my heirloom pendant.

He was five years older and still pulled that con with a straight face.

He said I was the one he valued most—because I "knew how to take responsibility." Said he admired girls with that quality.

It stung. I knew something was off, but still—his words made me feel seen.

Enzo always played the calm, mature type.

He clearly had a soft spot for Willa, but he masked it behind fake neutrality. Always telling me not to "hold grudges." Always nudging me to keep shielding her.

I let out a cold laugh. What a warped kind of love.

I stood and cracked the door, letting him watch the mess unfold in the living room with me.

***

The banging on the door kept getting louder.

A young couple and two middle-aged spouses were bracing it with all they had.

Miranda? Completely useless. She just sat there, snacking and doting on her pudgy grandson like they weren't seconds from death.

"Oh, my sweet baby. You must've been terrified. Here, have some milk to calm down."

Perry took one sip—and spit it everywhere.

"I'm not drinking that! It's gross! I want a cheese stick!"

Miranda took one look at the milk and launched into full drama mode. "No wonder my baby won't drink it. This brand's basically water! And full of preservatives! Why didn't you get real milk..."

Her whining earned her a round of death stares from the folks still holding the door shut.

The middle-aged guy winced watching Perry spit it out. "Don't waste it!"

"Hehe, I'm spitting it out, so what!" Perry got even more hyped with the attention. He chugged the milk, slurped, spat—full-on toddler fountain mode—flashing smug looks at the exhausted door crew.

The young couple—Timothy and Jenny—were about to snap. They'd been grinding at the door nonstop, running on fumes, just to end up as the punchline of this brat's show.

"Willa, we've been busting our asses and haven't had a single bite," Jenny snapped, eyes locked on Perry. "You really think that's fair?"

Willa looked cornered. No one had comforted her earlier when she'd cried, and that damn old woman had even used the chaos to swipe her stuff.

"Be nice to the elderly and kids, okay? Young people these days are so petty," Miranda scoffed, rolling her eyes.

Willa, clearly over it, didn't even bother arguing. Just tossed out her usual line. "Don't be mad at the kid. Childhood only happens once—we should protect it."

Same tired line. But this time, I wasn't the one coughing up blood from rage.

Jenny's face darkened. "Willa, your sister was right. You made this mess—why are we the ones paying for it?"

She marched over and yanked Willa toward the door.

Willa shrieked. Full-on terror.

No way she'd survive if that door gave out. It was already splintering. The second it broke, she was zombie chow.

The yelling inside only riled them up more. The door groaned under pressure, and the three adults holding it started sweating bullets.

"Shut up!" Jenny slapped a hand over Willa's mouth.

I watched, kind of entertained, as their terrified faces contorted with fear.

In my last life, my "stinginess" made Willa look like some generous saint. Everyone called her sweet, angelic, pure.

Now? That illusion was cracking fast.

Of course it was. She never went on supply runs. Only tagged along because she couldn't stand dirty bathrooms. I was the one lugging everything back so she could stay all clean and composed.

That whole "cool, graceful" act? Built on my back, on my bruises.

The moment I stopped playing the mule, what was left for anyone to admire?

The room went dead quiet—then Jenny gasped.

Willa had bitten her hand.

Jenny, livid, slapped her straight across the face.

Willa's mouth twisted into a weird duckbill. She couldn't even fix her expression.

Her lips shook. Tears brimmed. She looked pathetic—and of course, that made Enzo twitch with sympathy. He kept trying to stand.

I pushed him back down, smiling. "Relax. She'll crawl over soon enough."