I bit my lip in frustration. After all these years, I thought I’d only be met with a glaring red exclamation mark.

But unexpectedly, the phone rang almost instantly.

“Belle, what’s gotten into you? Did you lose a game of truth or dare?”

“I’ve been chasing after you since I was in open-crotch pants, and you never even glanced my way. What’s this supposed to mean now?”

Marcus Murphy, my childhood friend.

The first word he ever uttered wasn’t “Mama,” but “Belle.”

When I scraped my knee learning to walk, the one I ran to in tears wasn’t my father. It was Marcus.

Until I was sent overseas to study, and we lost all contact.

Suddenly, I realized how abrupt I had been and awkwardly mumbled, “Sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Just pretend you never saw the message…”

“Damn, not a chance.”

Marcus let out a low, sarcastic chuckle, his voice dropping.

“Since you’ve agreed to come to me, don’t even think about running again. I’ll pick you up myself in a week.”

“Oh, and stop sticking around that fake-smile loser. Come to me. I’ll give you a life ten thousand times better than what you’ve got now.”

.…

The next morning, I began packing my room, piece by piece.

In the closet were the gifts Miguel had given me, things I had once treasured for years.

Only now did I realize the watch had always been a size too small, the necklace was platinum, which I was allergic to, and even the matching pajamas were red, a color I had never liked?

My fingertips trembled, and my whole body felt like it had been plunged into ice.

So I had been this blind, this foolish, deceived for so many years without ever noticing.

The sudden chime of the doorbell snapped me out of my thoughts.

I opened the door to find Saoirse standing there, smiling like sunshine.

“Hi, sis. Miguel invited me over. You’re not going to say I’m unwelcome, are you?”

Before I could respond, she pushed her way in, eyes drifting toward the little garden outside.

“I don’t like these roses. Have them replaced with baby’s breath.”

Those dark red roses had once been flown in from Europe at great cost by Miguel during the height of our romance.

He once told me they symbolized his love for me. That as long as they bloomed, his love would never fade.

Instinctively, I tried to stop her, but a bodyguard stepped forward and coldly blocked me.

“Sorry, this is Mr. Atkinson’s order. Everything is to follow Miss Pearson’s preferences.”

“What…”

My mind went blank. I stumbled back a few steps, nearly collapsing.

The flowers were gone, and so was Miguel’s love.

Saoirse, increasingly smug, strolled freely around the villa like it already belonged to her.

“I don’t like this decor. Make it minimalist.”

The next second, the wall filled with a couple of photos of Miguel and me crashed to the floor, the frames scattering like fallen leaves.

I stood off to the side, clutching Harper, quietly watching it all.

More and more things were destroyed, and my heart felt as hollowed out as the house around me.

Eventually, Saoirse was tired of wandering. Her sharp gaze landed on the puppy in my arms.

Harper, Miguel’s third-anniversary gift to me.

A soft, warm replacement for his absence after fame swept him away.

A bad feeling crept into my chest, and sure enough, the next second, she spoke lightly.

“I’m allergic to dog hair. Get rid of it.”

“No!”

Seeing me refuse, the bodyguard reached out to snatch the dog. In the struggle, I was dragged to the ground.

The sharp gravel tore open the skin on my arm and lower back. Blood soaked into the yellow earth, bright, jarring, impossible to ignore.

“Belle!”

“Who gave you permission to lay a hand on her?!”

Miguel suddenly rushed in, pulling me into his arms. His voice shook as he asked, “Baby, are you okay?”

His embrace was warm, just like before.

The grievance I had buried for so long finally burst free.

“Miguel…”

“Ah!”

A shrill scream sliced through the air. Saoirse teetered dangerously at the edge of the steps.

In the next breath, Miguel let go and bolted toward her.

I was thrown to the ground again. The old stab wound in my chest felt like it had torn open. Warm blood spread across my shirt.

Saoirse stood trembling, looking innocent and pitiful. Her voice was soft, aggrieved.

“Brother-in-law, I’m terrified of dogs. Thank you for saving me.”

“I really don’t want to make things hard for Sister. I’ll just leave…”

I struggled to sit up, fingertips trembling from the pain, but it still paled in comparison to the ache in my heart.

Harper pressed against me, letting out soft whimpers, licking my hand as if trying to take the pain away.

Miguel glanced down at Saoirse’s frightened face in his arms, a twinge tightening in his chest.

Then he turned to me, his gaze filled with disapproval.

“Belle, don’t be childish. A dog isn’t more important than a person.”

“Get rid of it tomorrow.”

"Okay."

I heard my own voice, soft, distant as if it might disappear with the wind.

A flicker of unease passed through Miguel’s eyes, but then he noticed the blood on me.

He stepped forward, his voice trembling. "Belle, what happened to you?"

Back when I was hospitalized, he hadn’t shown up once.

Instead, Saoirse had kept me updated, sending sweet snapshots of them together through her alternate account.

The knife had missed my heart by only a centimeter. While I was being rushed into the ICU, they were announcing their love to the press.

Miguel lit ninety-nine fireworks to declare his devotion to her while my body was drained of blood and refilled nine times over.

As they designed matching rings and whispered promises of forever, I writhed in pain from wound debridement.

I had hidden my injury and hospitalization from him, just as he had hidden his romance with her from me.

What a joke.

I lowered my gaze, fighting the sting in my nose. "It’s Harper’s blood. I’m fine."

Miguel let out a breath, relieved, and spoke like it was just another arrangement.

"Baby, you have no idea how insane the paparazzi have been lately. Saoirse’s been followed nonstop ever since that trending post."

"Your room is private and secure. Let her stay in it."

Who could understand the madness of his paparazzi better than me?

When the blade pierced my flesh, cold struck first, then came the pain.

A searing, bone-deep agony that made every nerve scream.

“Belle?”

Miguel called again, impatience creeping into his voice.

I blinked back to the present and nodded slowly. “Alright.”

While packing the next morning, I suddenly realized I didn’t own much.

Everything I had fit neatly into a single suitcase.

When I rolled it out, Miguel’s brows furrowed. “Belle, what’s the meaning of this?”

I gave a faint smile. “Of course, I’m moving out too. With the paparazzi circling, it wouldn’t look good if news broke that you were living with two women.”

His eyes darkened, the shock in them unmistakable.

He stood still for a long moment before finally whispering, guilt weighing on his face.

“You’re always thinking about me. I’m sorry for making you go through this. I’ll make it up to you later…”

I clutched Harper closer and said nothing. His apologies no longer moved me. I left the villa alone.

It wasn’t until I reached the hotel that I finally had the chance to treat my wounds.

The wounds on my arm and lower back still ached with a dull sting.

The stab to my chest, inflicted a month ago while wrestling a camera from a crazed paparazzi, throbbed with every movement.

And the scar on my knee? That one came from three years back when I tripped onto shattered glass while fighting to land Miguel a role.

On rainy nights and cold mornings, the pain crept back up from the bone.

Six years ago, I had been soft. Fragile. A girl who cried over the slightest scrape.

I still remember the day I fell and skinned my elbow and knee. Blood beaded and trickled slowly.

Miguel had looked heartbroken, gently wiping away the blood. “We need to disinfect it with alcohol, or it’ll leave a scar.”

“But it stings,” I pouted, swatting at his hand. “Just cover it. No alcohol.”

He chuckled, cupped the back of my neck, and pressed a kiss to my lips, hard and sudden.

I forgot to breathe, lost in the heat of it.

And when I came back to myself, the wound was already dressed.

The girl who once cried over a scratch was now layered in scars.

A wave of dizziness crashed over me, and I drifted into sleep.

In the haze, I could feel the fever setting in.

My chest wound burned with a raw ache, and in a daze, my fingers found his number.

The line rang, and then his voice came softly through the speaker.

“Belle?”

I tried to speak, but it felt like my throat was lined with blades. No sound would come out.

His voice, cold and clipped, came through the phone. “You’d better remember you have work this afternoon. I want to see you in ten minutes.”

Ever since he stepped into the entertainment world, I have made his career my own.

I handled endorsements, contracts, and interviews.

For six years, there has not been a single mistake.

I swallowed a fever pill and forced my aching body out the door.

“Miguel, I don’t remember any meetings today…”

Before I could finish, I saw her.

Saoirse was already seated in the leather chair, smiling sweetly.

“I just found out, so Sister’s been working as Miguel’s assistant all this time?”

Miguel walked in right then, dressed sharply in a tailored suit.

“Belle, you’re Saoirse’s sister. Take care of her for me. I’ll be right back.”

I stood frozen as though I had fallen into a pit of ice. The pain in my chest flared again.

So this was the important task he mentioned, babysitting his darling lover.

“Sister, I want coffee—”

Saoirse beamed at me. “From that shop downtown, hot latte with sugar.”

The shop she mentioned was over ten kilometers away.

My feverish body trembled with every step, cold sweat soaking my forehead.

When I finally returned, Saoirse’s smile vanished. “Didn’t I say iced Americano, no sugar? Go back and get the right one!”

Cold sweat slid down my temples. My vision blurred.

And then, darkness.

Just before I collapsed completely, I vaguely heard Miguel’s panicked voice.

“Belle—!”

When I woke up, I was lying on the lounge sofa.

A sharp ache twisted in my lower abdomen, and my throat was so raw I couldn’t utter a word.

Miguel sat by my side, gently wiping the cold sweat from my forehead. His eyes were filled with guilt and worry.

“Baby, does anything else hurt? Why did you suddenly collapse? You scared me and Saoirse too…”

Before he could finish, the door swung open.

Saoirse walked in with a cup of warm water in hand.

“I’m sorry, Sis. It was my fault. Please drink this… and rest.”

She knelt beside me, pitifully lifting the cup to my lips.

“Don’t be angry with me, okay?”

I turned my head away, refusing to acknowledge her.

The cup slipped from her hands, and scalding hot water splashed across my shoulder.

Miguel rushed forward to catch her as she stumbled. A flicker of anger shot through his eyes.

“Belle, she’s your sister! How could you treat her like that?”

Then he scooped Saoirse into his arms and strode out.

“I’ll rinse it with cold water right away, or it’ll leave a scar.”

Watching their backs as they disappeared, I suddenly laughed.

If he had only looked closer, he would’ve seen the truth: most of the water had splashed onto my shoulder.

It was red and raw, already blistering.

I laughed until tears blurred my vision.

But at least now, I had made up my mind to stop loving him.

So, it didn’t hurt quite as much anymore.

After a while, I dragged my weakened body up and prepared to hail a taxi to the hospital.

“Belle, wait.”

Director Evan stopped me. “When are you going to tell Miguel you’re leaving?”

I paused. “In five days. After our sixth anniversary.”

At the hospital, I gritted through the pain to register and queued outside radiology.

Suddenly, my phone rang, it was Miguel’s driver, his voice urgent.

“Belle, please come quickly. Brother Miguel’s drunk again!”

If the paparazzi caught him like that, tomorrow’s endorsement banquet would be finished.

I clenched my jaw and tossed the registration slip aside.

Outside the KTV entrance, Saoirse leaned against the wall, a cigarette between her fingers, eyes clouded in smoke.

I froze at the sight. This was a side of her I’d never seen. “You… does Miguel know you’re like this?”

Saoirse blew a lazy smoke ring in my direction, her tone full of mockery. “Mind your own business.”

“Want to tell Miguel about this? Go ahead. He won’t believe you anyway.”

She seemed to revel in the sound of my dry coughing.

“Believe it or not, the moment I open my mouth, he’ll never choose you.”

Just then, the door creaked open, and a drunken Miguel staggered out.

I instinctively reached out to steady him, but he walked right past me and fell into Saoirse’s arms instead.

“Saoirse, you came to get me.”

She shot me a triumphant smile as she helped him away, slow and sweet. Miguel didn’t spare me a single glance.

I stood there like air, completely invisible.

A sharp pain twisted in my chest, so tight it stole the breath from my lungs.

Before I could move, a few rough-looking men stepped in my path. “Where’d this little chick come from? Come keep us company.”

I turned to leave, but they blocked me again. “Wanna go? Then finish this crate first.”

My body had long been weak, and tonight, I had no strength left to resist. I could only drag the crate over, open bottle after bottle, and force it all down.

Each swallow burned like glass shards down my throat.

The metallic taste of blood rose in my throat. I stumbled to the wall, leaned against it, and retched violently.

Barely holding myself upright, I staggered into the restroom. My stomach burned like fire, my head spinning uncontrollably.

With a trembling hand, I clung to a final sliver of hope and dialed Miguel’s number.

As expected, a busy tone answered me.

Tears streamed down my cheeks without warning.

Belle, you should’ve known long ago that man no longer loved you.

…

When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in a hospital bed.

The sharp scent of disinfectant stung my nose and blurred my vision.

“Miss Belle, you’re awake.”

The doctor’s voice was firm, almost emotionless.

“I regret to inform you we couldn’t save your baby.”

“What…”

My voice was barely audible. I stared at him blankly, then lowered my gaze to my abdomen.

“There… was a baby?”

I hadn’t even known it existed.

I never heard its heartbeat. Never felt it move. Before I could even learn to love it, it was already gone.

My phone chimed. I grabbed it instantly. I wanted to tell Miguel. I needed to tell him.

But the screen lit up with a video from Saoirse.

In it, she stood close beside Miguel, holding up tiny baby clothes.

She tilted her head thoughtfully. “One pink, one blue… it’s so hard to choose.”

Miguel stood slightly turned from the camera, his expression unreadable. His voice, however, was soft and coaxing.

“Then take both.”

That one sentence snapped the final thread holding me together.

I broke down.

Tears fell like shattered pearls, streaming endlessly down my face.

That same afternoon, Miguel finally heard the news from Lori and rushed to the hospital.

The doctor’s disapproving gaze landed squarely on him, this man who claimed to be the father.

“Your wife lost the baby, and you didn’t even know?”