Jean’s hand covered hers, firm and coaxing, trying to guide the pen in her fingers. But this time, Samira didn’t move. Her mind was sharp. Clear.

She gently pulled her hand back and set the pen down. “Actually,” she said, calm and steady, “I have something for you to sign first. You sign that and I’ll sign this.”

Jean blinked, a little caught off guard, but didn’t hesitate. “Sure. Give it to me, I’ll sign it now.”

Samira walked over to the nightstand and opened the drawer. From inside, she pulled out a document she’d hidden long ago, something she had quietly prepared in her previous life: a divorce agreement.

Back then, she had assumed Jean only married her out of obligation, maybe because of the Jourdain Family’s pressure. She didn’t want to make things harder for him, so she had drawn up the papers just in case.

She never had the heart to use them. But now, it felt like the only thing that made sense.

She laid the agreement down in front of him. Jean didn’t even read it. He just signed his name like it meant nothing, then slid his document in front of her with a glance that said, “Your turn.”

His eyes were focused, a little too eager. And Samira met them evenly.

The agreement she gave him would leave her with nothing, no money, no name, no claim. And Jean didn’t care. All he cared about was getting her signature. Probably so he could run straight back to Luna.

Something bitter twisted in her chest. Of course. That was all she ever was, an obstacle to remove.

She picked up the pen and signed anyway, not because he told her to, but because she was done. Done clinging to things that were never really hers. Not the Jourdain fortune. Not the name. And definitely not Jean.

After signing, she quietly folded the divorce papers and slipped them back into the drawer. That was when Jean finally asked, “Wait, what did I just sign for you?”

Without looking at him, Samira replied, “Divorce agreement.”

He froze for a second, stunned into silence. Then, like he thought she was just being dramatic, he chuckled. “Samira, come on. If you didn’t want to tell me, you could’ve just said so.”

He slung his bag over his shoulder, brushing it off like it was nothing. “Anyway, I’ve got stuff to deal with. Don’t wait up, alright? Go to bed early.”

A few seconds later, she watched through the window as his car pulled out of the driveway. The headlights slowly disappeared into the night, leaving the villa dark and quiet.

Samira stayed there, standing by the nightstand, not moving for a long moment. Her legs felt heavy, like they didn’t quite belong to her.

Then finally, she picked up her phone and made a call. Her voice was cool. Almost too calm. “I need you to prepare a body,” she said. “Same height and build as me.”

Samira had made up her mind, she was going to use that murder to fake her death and disappear for good.

In her last life, after she was killed, she lingered in the world as a spirit for a few days. Long enough to see who had actually done it.

The man was unhinged, clearly unstable. And now, with that memory still sharp in her mind, she knew exactly when and where it would happen again. All she had to do was make sure the fake body was in place at the right time.

After hanging up, her phone buzzed again. Luna had posted something. [My knight finally helped me kick the bad guy out. He said no one will bully me anymore!]

There was a photo attached, just two people leaning on each other. Their faces weren’t visible, but Samira didn’t need to see them.

She knew. The "knight" was Jean and the "bad guy"? That could only be her.

She let out a humorless laugh, bitter and dry. On her fifth birthday, she had worn a princess dress and Jean had knelt in front of her like a little gentleman, promising to protect her forever.

Back then, she believed him. Now, forever felt awfully short.

Samira shut off her phone and lay down, not expecting to sleep, but too drained to do anything else. The next morning, just after breakfast, she got a call. “Ms. Jourdain, the jewelry Mr. Zaccaro bought for you last week has been fully serviced and is ready for pickup.”

For a second, she just stared at the wall, stunned. ‘That ridiculously expensive piece?’

A week ago, she had paused in front of the display, admiring it quietly. She never said she wanted it, but Jean noticed anyway and joined the bidding without a second thought. The price kept climbing. She had tried to stop him.

“Jean, it’s too much. I really don’t need it,” she had said.

But he only smiled and told her, “If you like it, I’ll get it, no matter the cost.”

A week ago, he was still doting on her. Still pretending to care. ‘How has everything flipped so fast?’

“Ms. Jourdain? Hello?” the person on the line asked again.

Samira blinked, then cleared her throat. “Yes. I’m on my way.”

She caught a cab and headed to the auction house. But just as she was about to step out of the car, she froze. Right in front of the doors, she saw them; Jean and Luna walking in together.

They looked close. Comfortable. Like they belonged. She stared at them for a few seconds longer, her hand still on the door handle.

The driver glanced at her through the rearview mirror, probably wondering what the holdup was. Snapping out of it, Samira opened the door and got out. By the time she reached the steps, they were already gone inside.

The moment passed, but the ache in her chest lingered. Something inside her quietly shifted. Maybe it was hope. Or whatever was left of it.

Jean was probably here to buy something for Luna. Samira didn’t want to see them, she just wanted to get the jewelry and leave.

She pulled her hood up, waited a couple minutes just in case, then slipped inside. Avoiding the main showroom, she walked straight toward the reception area, hoping to get in and out without being noticed.

But just as she reached the doorway, she stopped in her tracks. Jean and Luna were already there.

The receptionist stood in front of them, holding the jewelry she had come to pick up. He walked over to Luna, smiling like he was presenting a crown to a queen. “So Mr. Zaccaro picked this out for you? It’s perfect on you, miss. He really knows how to choose.”

Samira didn’t move. She just stood there, hands cold, heart heavy.

She remembered how she missed this call in her previous life. She had been drinking that night, too caught up in heartbreak to answer her phone.

She had no idea back then that this necklace, this ridiculously expensive gift, was never meant for her.

She had thought Jean bought it for her. Worn it like it meant something. But now… now she knew the truth. It had always belonged to someone else.

And just like that, the last two years of her life felt even more hollow. A joke. A pity prize wrapped in silver and lies.

Her throat tightened. She blinked hard, trying to shake it off. She wasn’t going to humiliate herself again, not in front of them.

Without stepping inside, Samira turned around, ready to leave and pretend she never saw anything. But just then, a voice called out behind her. “Samira?!”

It was Luna. Of course it was. Samira froze, shoulders tensing. So much for slipping out unnoticed.

All eyes turned to Samira the moment Luna called out. She stood there awkwardly at the doorway, half her face hidden under her hood like someone who didn’t belong.

And maybe she didn’t.

Looking back on her twenty-two years, Samira realized most of the things that were supposed to be hers had somehow ended up in Luna’s hands.

Luna came over quickly and looped her arm through Samira’s like they were long-lost best friends. “What a surprise! Are you here to shop too?” she asked cheerfully, as if this was just a casual run-in.

Samira didn’t answer. Her eyes shifted to Jean, who was standing off to the side. Their gazes met briefly before he quickly looked away, his expression uneasy.

Samira gave a small, tight smile and looked down. Luna caught that little moment and, never one to miss her cue, put on her soft, trembling voice. “Samira… I’m the one who asked Jean to come with me. Don’t blame him, okay? If you’re mad, be mad at me.”

She even threw in a teary sniff or two, looking every bit the poor, misunderstood girl.

Before Samira could say anything, Jean stepped in, like always. He pulled Luna behind him protectively, as if Samira might attack her or something. His tone was cold, guarded. “I brought Luna here. It’s not her fault.”

Samira stared at him for a second. Then, very quietly, she said, “Did I say I blamed her?”

Jean faltered, caught off guard. Samira let out a soft laugh and shook her head. She had died too quickly in her past life to ever make sense of things. But now, she saw it all clearly.

Ever since the kidnapping, Jean had treated her like a threat. Every time she and Luna were in the same room, his guard went up. He was constantly on edge around her, ready to defend Luna, no matter what.

So all this time, she had thought he loved her, he cared. She had just never put herself in direct comparison to Luna before. If she had, maybe she wouldn’t have wasted so much time convincing herself she mattered.

Samira didn’t want to be part of this triangle anymore. She turned and walked out without another word, leaving whatever “love” they had behind her.

Jean watched her go, his chest tightening at the sight of her walking away; quiet, small, alone. He took a few steps toward her before Luna reached out and held him back.

Outside, the air felt heavier than usual. As Samira stepped off the curb, her eyes landed on a tiny kitten hiding in the grass by the steps. It was filthy, limping and clearly injured.

Alone like that, it probably wouldn’t last long.

She sighed and crouched down beside it, gently reaching out her hand. She couldn’t save everything, but this little life, she could try.

Samira walked over quietly, crouched beside the patch of grass and stretched out a hand, leaving some distance so she wouldn’t scare the kitten off. She waited patiently, saying nothing, just letting it decide if she could be trusted.

That was what Jean saw when he stepped outside.

The sunlight caught Samira just right, softening her edges, like the world itself had slowed down for a second. In front of her was the tiny kitten, hesitant but curious, inching closer.

Jean stood frozen, watching her, something twisting in his chest. She looked so much like the girl from all those years ago, the one who used to follow him around, laughing, fearless.

Next to him, Luna glanced over and noticed the look on his face. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

Right then, the kitten finally came close enough. Samira reached out gently, scooped it up and held it to her chest. She gave it a small smile, the kind you only give something helpless. She turned, ready to leave.

But just as she took a step, someone yanked the kitten from her arms. Startled, she looked up and there was Luna, clutching the kitten like it was hers, eyes wide with fear.

“Don’t hurt it!” Luna shouted, stumbling back a few steps like Samira had tried to attack her.

Jean rushed over, totally confused. Luna was already tearing up, voice trembling.

“It looks like the kitten I used to have when I was little,” she said, holding it close. “I didn’t save it back then... but I want to now.”

Jean’s face shifted like something had clicked in his memory. Samira’s whole body went cold. She remembered that kitten too.

Luna had drowned it in the pond. Samira had seen the whole thing, her twisted smile, the way she didn’t even flinch.

Samira had jumped in after it, desperate to save it, only for Luna to run off and spin the story her way. She told the adults Samira did it. No one asked questions. No one ever did.

Now, looking at Luna with that same fake-innocent look on her face, Samira felt her stomach turn. The kitten meowed again, squirming in Luna’s grip. Samira took a step forward and reached for it.

“Give it back,” she said quietly.

Before she could get close, Jean stepped in and shoved her hard. She hit the ground, hands scraping against the concrete.

“Samira, what’s wrong with you?!” he snapped, his voice sharp, full of anger. She didn’t even look at him. Her eyes were locked on the kitten.

“Give it back,” she said again, louder this time.

Luna shrank away, holding the kitten tighter, like she was scared. Jean immediately pulled her into his arms like he was protecting her from something dangerous.

“I’m calling security,” he muttered, already shouting for help. Samira’s cheek was pressed against the cold floor, the weight of the security guard holding her down.

She didn’t fight it, she just laid there, breathing quietly, the sting in her side nothing compared to the one in her chest.

Jean stood a few feet away, his voice sharp and cold. “Why are you always like this? Wasn’t one cat enough when you were a kid? Now you’re trying to hurt another?”

His eyes were full of disgust. Not confusion, not disappointment, just pure judgment. Then he turned away without waiting for her to speak, slipping his arm around Luna like he was some hero protecting her from a villain.

Samira didn’t look up. She stayed still, listening to their footsteps fade away. The pressure on her arm finally lifted when they were gone. But the weight in her chest stayed.

Samira didn’t get up right away. She just lay there for a moment, then let out a low laugh. It wasn’t loud or dramatic, more like the kind that slips out when you realize how foolish you’ve been.

‘Who am I kidding? I can’t even protect myself, how can I possibly protect a kitten?’ Eventually, she pushed herself off the ground and dusted off her clothes. Her movements were slow and clumsy. She didn’t look back as she walked away.

Behind her, one of the security guards muttered, “She looks nice, but turns out she’s the type to abuse animals…”

She had heard that before. A lot, actually, especially when she was younger. Back then, it was a label people stuck on her without thinking and it followed her around like a shadow. She was even bullied because of it.

When her family confronted her about it, she hadn’t cared much what her parents thought. What mattered most was Jean.

She just wanted him to believe her. But when she looked at him, back then and now, his eyes always held that same look of disgust. Cold. Judging. Like he had already made up his mind.

When she got home, she went straight to the closet, pulled out a big cardboard box and started packing.

All the things Jean had given her over the years; little trinkets, notes, gifts from birthdays or holidays. She had kept them all in perfect shape, even after everything. But now, she tossed them into the box one after another, like they were junk.

There was more than she realized. She kept at it until noon, paused to eat something quick, then went right back to it.

That was when Jean came in. He noticed the box and frowned, his gaze settling on the familiar items. “Wait… what are you throwing away? Isn’t this stuff from me?”

Samira paused for a second, then shrugged and kept going. “Yeah. Just clearing things out. It’s been piling up.”

Jean stepped closer, sensing something was off. Then he reached out and wrapped his arms around her from behind.

She instinctively tensed. When she tried to move, he only held her tighter.

“Samira,” he said softly, “you know how Luna gets. That cat really messed her up when we were kids. I just didn’t want her to fall apart again. That’s why I reacted like that. But I believe you. I really do.”

She stopped moving, then slowly turned around to face him. Her eyes searched his. “You really believe I didn’t do it?”

He hesitated, not long, but enough. Then he forced a smile and said, “Of course I do. You? Hurt a cat? Come on.”

But the moment had already passed. She had seen it. The flicker of doubt. The same look from all those years ago. She let out a quiet laugh and looked away.

Samira chuckled quietly to herself. Not because anything was funny, but because Jean was good. Too good.

The way he said those sweet, reassuring words like he actually meant them? If she didn’t know better, she might’ve believed him.

But she did know better. ‘So why the performance? What is the point of pretending now, when he’s already gotten what he wants?’

She gave up trying to make sense of it. Some things just weren’t worth figuring out. With a sigh, she turned back to the pile of memories and kept tossing them into the box like they were nothing.

Jean, clearly thinking the storm had passed, spoke up with an easy tone. “Your mom wants us to come by for dinner tonight.”

“Okay,” Samira said with a nod, not looking up.

But just as they were about to head out later that evening, he paused at the door. “Hey, something came up. Can you go ahead first? I’ll meet you there.”

Samira didn’t even blink. “Sure.”

He kissed her cheek like everything was fine. “My wife’s always so sweet to me.”

Once he was gone, she stayed frozen for a second, then calmly wiped her cheek with her sleeve. She could be sweet, she could be patient, but that didn’t mean she still cared.

Dinner time rolled around and she caught a cab to her parents’ house on her own. Jean still hadn’t shown up when she arrived.

Her father barely acknowledged her, just glanced over and said nothing. He had never really been warm and lately, it felt like she was just another guest to him.

Her mother, though, still had a sliver of affection left. She came over with a smile and gently took Samira’s hand. “Where’s Jean? Didn’t he come with you?”

“He had something to do,” Samira replied with a small smile. “He said he’d come later.”

Her mother nodded and gave a polite smile back, trying to come up with something to say. The conversation felt stiff. They used to be close, really close, but after Luna returned, everything changed.

The awkward silence didn’t last long. The front door opened again. Jean had arrived. And not alone. Luna walked in beside him.

So that was what his “something to do” was.

The moment her mother saw Luna, she let go of Samira’s hand without hesitation and stood up to greet Luna like she was the daughter she had always wanted.

They chatted easily, laughed, exchanged sweet words and gentle touches. Not a trace of awkwardness between them.

Samira didn’t even lift her head. She just sat there, staring at her hands. This wasn’t her home anymore. Maybe it never had been.

At dinner, the seating said it all. Jean sat next to Luna, across from her parents. Samira was at the far end, no one beside her, no one across from her. Just space.

Jean casually reached for food and placed it into Luna’s plate like it was second nature. No one flinched. No one said a word. And in that moment, it hit her. She wasn’t just alone. She didn’t even belong.