"What do you like?" Before I could react, he bit my neck. And just like that, the tables turned. I was starting to believe what Quella always said. For men, love and desire were two completely different things.

Afterward, when the heat faded, Yannick leaned against the bed, studying me like I was some kind of alien species. "Yulia, I’m seriously starting to think you’ve been possessed."

It made sense that he was suspicious. After all, I was not acting like the person he used to know.

I gave him a solemn nod. "Yeah, I've been possessed by a horny ghost."

He narrowed his eyes. "And this ghost couldn’t find anyone else?"

I tilted my head. "Guess you were just the easiest prey."

I grabbed my phone to order food, but he caught my wrist.

"What? You seduced me and took everything you wanted, so now, you want to toss me aside?"

I ignored him.

Thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang.

When I returned, Yannick’s gaze was locked on the yellow paper bag in my hands, and his pupils shrank. He saw what I pulled out from it—a small box of pills. His expression darkened. In a flash, he was in front of me, his grip tightening around my chin.

"Yulia! What the hell are you doing? You’re taking this stuff?"

I winced. "What, you want me to pop out an heir for the Jordan family?"

His entire face burned with fury. "You had the nerve to do this, but you’re afraid of having a kid?"

"You’re hurting me!" I tried to pry his fingers off, but he was too pissed to notice. So, I made something up and said, "Of course, I’d love to give birth to a Jordan heir. But I took antibiotics for a cold a few days ago."

I gave him a pointed look and continued, "What, you think I’d get pregnant just to blackmail you?"

His gaze turned icy. "You wish, you greedy woman."

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, please. If you didn’t want it, I couldn’t have forced you."

He looked furious, and I thought he would storm out. Instead, he slammed the guest room door shut.

Hah. I guessed he did keep his promises.

And suddenly, I felt kind of guilty.

…

Back in high school, Yannick was the kind of guy everyone liked—warm, easygoing, and always ready with a joke.

His family moved into the villa next door right when my world fell apart. My parents were in the middle of a messy divorce, and one day, they just… left. No goodbye, no explanations—they were just gone.

I sat on the doorstep, crying quietly. I was too proud to sob out loud. That was when he walked over, handed me a tissue, and, for some reason, a piece of candy. That was just how he was.

Later, he transferred to my school. We were in the same grade but in different classes. And from the moment he showed up, he became the top student and never let go of this spot.

At the time, I was struggling. I had been left behind, so I was angry and depressed.

But Yannick? He showed up every day—bringing me lunch, helping me with homework, and keeping me company.

Eventually, he introduced me to his parents. Jordan and Louisa were wonderful, kind, and welcoming. They were a real family.

Especially Louisa. Whenever she went shopping, she would pick out clothes for me like it was the most normal thing in the world. Then, she would make Yannick drop them off at my place.

I felt awkward about it at first, but she would just smile and pat my shoulder. "Yulia, don’t overthink it. I’ve always wanted a daughter, and I feel a special bond with you. If I see something that suits you, of course, I’m going to buy it."

One time, when Yannick was walking me home, he laughed while ruffling my hair. "My mom just likes you, so take the gifts and stop overanalyzing everything."

And that was that.

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When it came to money, my so-called parents had never held back on me. But to them, I was nothing more than a painful reminder of their failed marriage—something neither of them wanted to look at.

The Jordans, though? They were a ray of sunlight cutting through the storm. They treated me like family. I knew they were good people, and I also knew they pitied me.

And now? Now, I had their son wrapped around my finger.

Did I feel guilty?

Not even a little.

If he did not want this, there was no way I could have made it happen. But this was just me lying to myself.

Yannick locked himself in the guest room the whole day and did not come out until nighttime. I sat at the dinner table, staring at the untouched food. I was not hungry.

I knocked on his door. "Dinner is ready."

To my surprise, he opened the door and walked out like nothing had happened. He sat down in silence, and his whole vibe screamed, "Don’t even think about talking to me."

I did not care, though. I pulled out a handful of condoms with a blank face. "Pick one."

Yannick lost it. "You seriously can’t get enough of me?"

I nodded. "Maybe."

With an exasperated sigh, he grabbed a strawberry-flavored one and flopped onto the bed. Seeing him like this, a random line of poetry popped into my head.

"May you take as much as you please."

I put in the work, and soon, so did he. By the end, he bit my ear, his voice low and furious as he said, "Yulia! I swear to God, I’m going to kill you!"

I was too drained to respond. But in my heart, I thought that there was no need for him to do so. That day would come on its own.

…

For three days, Yannick was perfectly fine. Every morning, he handled work calls like a pro as he ran his company from afar. Every evening, he somehow found time to mess with me.

Meanwhile, I felt like absolute crap. So, I kicked him out.

Yannick leaned against the doorframe, smirking. "Already sick of me?"

I did not even look at him. "Yeah."

With that, his door slammed shut.

…

On the fourth day, I crashed.

I was having a fever, nausea… The whole deal.

Yannick, realizing I had not made breakfast, stormed in—only to find me curled up in bed. "Yulia, what’s wrong?"

He pressed a hand to my forehead, frowning. "You have a fever."

I weakly shoved him away. "Go away."

Instead, he scooped me up. "You’re going to the hospital."

I clawed at the bedsheets. "No."

"Yulia! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Tears blurred my vision, and my mind was slipping. "If I walk out that door… You won't be coming back…"

His grip on my wrist tightened for a second, and his voice softened. "Relax. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere."

"I won’t go…"

…

When I woke up, I was still home. Yannick sat beside the bed, murmuring into his phone. From the sound of it, it was a work call.

An IV line ran from my arm. Seeing that, I knew he must have called his private doctor. I was relieved. As long as I was here, he would not find out anything.

But I also knew… it was time to let him go.

Yannick always kept his promises, but I never really had him. What I had was his patience.

He looked exhausted due to the constant work calls and emails. The shadows under his eyes were getting darker as well.

Noticing I was awake, he quickly hung up the phone.

"You’re up?"

"Yeah. How long was I out?"

"A whole day. But at least your fever’s gone."

CHAPTER-NAME:

I watched as the last drop of IV fluid disappeared, the monitor's soft beep marking the end of the infusion. The doctor packed up his kit and glanced at Yannick. "Mr. Jordan, I’ll come again tomorrow."

I pulled my hand away from Yannick’s grasp, my fingers brushing against the small bandage on the back of my hand.

"I’m fine now. You should go."

He arched an eyebrow. "Go where? What, now that you’re done with me, you’re just tossing me back into the guest room?"

I forced a small, tired smile. "No, I mean… you’re free. You can go wherever you want."

Without another word, he turned and walked out. The door slammed shut behind him, the impact shaking the walls.

Yeah. He was pissed.

I had planned to hold out until the seventh day, but what was the point? I had already gotten everything I wanted.

In the end, it was all about the experience.

I had been selfish. If hell existed, I'd probably be first in line.

…

On the ninth day of my illness, I still had a mild fever, but that did not stop me from dragging myself out to buy a burial plot.

The saleswoman smiled politely, "What kind of arrangements would your elderly relative prefer?"

I shook my head. "It’s for me."

Her smile faltered.

"As for requirements…" I tilted my head, pretending to think about it. Under her increasingly sympathetic gaze, I finally said, "I want it to be lively."

I hated being alone. There was nothing I could do about it while I was alive, but at least in death, I did not want to be isolated.

I had probably pissed Yannick off too much to count on him for my funeral, so I would have to trouble Quella instead.

When they asked for an emergency contact, I wrote down her number. Then, on a whim, I asked her to come with me for a fancy photoshoot.

She raised a brow. "A birthday shoot? Are you finally coming around?"

I just smiled.

It was not a weird assumption. After all, my birthday was in two days.

It would be my 26th birthday.

Flipping through the dozens of bright, colorful photos, I picked the one where my smile was the widest. Leaning over, I whispered to the photographer, "Can you make it black and white?"

She hesitated. "That’s… kind of morbid."

I grinned. "It’s fine. I need it for my memorial portrait."

…

That night, Louisa called, her voice as warm as ever. "Yulia, your birthday is coming up. Why don’t you celebrate it with us? Yannick will be there too."

I thought back to the way he stormed out the last time we spoke, how furious he had looked. I hesitated, then gently declined, "Sorry, Louisa. I've already planned a trip with a friend. I’ll visit after I get back."

I did not want my birthday to turn into some dramatic mess. To be honest, I had never really feared death. I had gone through every mental breakdown and every moment of despair alone. Each time, the only thought running through my head was why was I still here?

Maybe I had wished for it too hard, and now, the universe had finally decided to grant me my request.

But when the doctor put a real expiration date on my life, something inside me cracked. Suddenly, I was like a drowning person in the middle of the ocean, desperately grasping for anything to hold onto.

It was not because I wanted to live.

It was just because I wanted to die with a sense of security.

…

For my birthday, I wanted a huge cake, a wild party, and to drink myself into oblivion with Quella. Instead, I passed out inside the bakery.

When I woke up, I was already in the hospital. The bakery staff had called an ambulance, and for that, I was grateful.

But a small part of me also thought that if my life had ended right then and there, maybe that would not have been so bad either.

The doctor stood beside my bed, looking grim. "You need to be hospitalized."

I gave him a tired smile. "No, I don’t."

Walking out of the hospital, I spotted someone I had not seen in two days—Yannick. He was not alone. Next to him stood a beautiful woman I had never seen before, and he was smiling at her.

I clicked my tongue.

What a bastard.

…

I got a call from Mom. My parents divorced when I was in middle school. They both had money—plenty of it—but neither of them wanted to deal with me.

So, they just packed up and moved out, leaving me alone in a giant house with a maid who was hired to take care of me.

CHAPTER-NAME: