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.

After dinner, the living room was filled with laughter and light conversation, but none of it reached Samira.

She sat there, quiet, detached. In the past, she might’ve tried to smile along, pretend to belong. But now, she didn’t see the point. Some things just weren’t meant to be forced.

While they carried on like one big happy family, Samira quietly got up and stepped outside. She didn’t say a word and unsurprisingly, no one even noticed her leave.

She had only been outside for a moment, breathing in the cool air, when Luna’s voice sliced through the silence behind her. “You’re still hanging around the Jourdain Family? Still clinging to Jean? Don’t you have any shame?”

In her past life, Samira had never walked out at this moment, so she had never heard Luna’s true colors like this. She didn’t turn around, didn’t say anything, just stood there, staring ahead.

Luna didn’t stop. “Let me be real with you. Jean only married you to push you out of the inheritance. It wasn’t about love. He sees you as a cruel, heartless monster.”

Samira stood still, her voice calm when she finally responded. “You really think no one sees through your lies? What if they find out—”

“They won’t,” Luna snapped, cutting her off. “You think you can explain your way out of this? Don’t waste your time. Everyone is on my side now. You? You should just crawl back to that sad little town you came from.”

Honestly, Samira didn’t disagree. This house never felt like home. She replied evenly, “Things don’t always go the way you want, Luna.”

That was all it took to push Luna over the edge. With a glare full of rage, she slapped Samira across the face hard. The sound cracked in the stillness. Samira’s cheek flared with pain.

She paused, took a breath. In the past, she would’ve swallowed the hurt and walked away. But not this time. This time, she hit back.

The slap landed with force and Luna stumbled, stunned. Then she launched herself at Samira and the two of them went down in a flurry of fists and hair-pulling. Luna didn’t stand a chance, Samira had her pinned in seconds.

The commotion drew attention. The front door burst open. Her father stormed out, followed by Jean and her mother.

He took one look at them and shouted, “What are you two doing?! Get back inside! Now! Sit down and think about what you’ve done!”

The butler stepped in, separating the two of them and guiding them toward the hall without saying much.

Luna was quick to play the victim. Her face was pale and her eyes filled with tears as she turned to her father. “Dad, don’t be mad, please. I didn’t do anything, Samira started it!”

When he didn’t react, she spun toward her mother, crying harder now. “Mom, you saw it too! I didn’t hit her first!”

Her mother’s face softened immediately. She looked heartbroken, brushing Luna’s hair back like she was still a child. “Honey, you saw it too,” she said to her husband. “Samira hit her. If someone needs to be punished, let it be Samira. Luna was the one who got hurt.”

Samira just stood there, quiet. Her fingers were clenched at her sides, her face still stinging. She wasn’t even surprised anymore, same story, different day.

In the end, they both got dragged away. Her father wasn’t the kind to care much about fairness, he cared about appearances and control.

The two of them knelt in the hall, the silence awkward and heavy. The butler stood to the side, arms crossed, like a chaperone watching over detention.

Then, a few minutes later, Jean showed up. He walked in without a hint of hesitation and said, “I’m taking her.”

The butler blinked. “Sir, I’m sorry, but Mr. Jourdain gave strict orders. Neither of them is allowed to leave tonight. I can’t let you take Miss Samira.”

Jean’s face didn’t change. “I’m not taking Samira. I’m here for Luna. I’ve already talked to Mr. Jourdain. Luna didn’t do anything wrong. She doesn’t deserve to be punished.”

The butler hesitated. “But… Miss Samira’s face was clearly slapped.”

Jean didn’t miss a beat. “And Luna’s not allowed to defend herself? You want her to just stand there and take it?”

That shut the butler up.

Jean walked over to Samira and crouched in front of her. His voice was soft, but it didn’t feel warm. “Samira, I know things got out of hand, but this was on you. No matter what Luna said, you shouldn’t have hit her. Just stay here tonight. I’ll come back for you in the morning.”

Something inside her snapped. She didn’t speak, didn’t even look at him. She just stared straight ahead like he wasn’t even there.

Jean let out a frustrated sigh, muttering under his breath, “So stubborn.”

Her eyelashes trembled, but she kept her head down. The ache in her chest grew heavier, sharp like ice pressing against her ribs. She should’ve expected this. Jean’s version of "trust" was just another lie she let herself believe.

But she kept it all in. No matter how hurt she felt, love that had started when she was young didn’t just vanish overnight. Still, she knew, one day, it would.

Beside her, Jean scooped Luna into his arms and walked away without even glancing back. “Luna, are you okay? Does it hurt? I’m sorry I got here so late…” he murmured, his voice full of concern.

His words grew fainter as they disappeared down the hallway. Before long, the house was silent again.

The butler stood nearby, his eyes quietly following Samira’s still figure. There was a trace of sadness in his expression.

He had watched her grow up in this house. And he knew, this girl wasn’t the cold, cruel person everyone had painted her to be. She was kind. She always had been.

But once the master made up his mind, there was no changing it. The butler knew that better than anyone.

He let out a long breath and walked a little closer. “Miss, you don’t need to sit so straight. It hurts less if you let yourself lean a bit.”

Samira didn’t move. Her posture remained rigid, back straight, chin up. Her voice came out soft but steady. “Thank you.”

That was it. She wasn’t here to explain herself or beg to be seen.

Tonight, she was just quietly paying back the Jourdain Family for the two decades they raised her. Nothing more.

The next morning, the butler quietly approached and said, “Miss, it’s time.”

Samira had gone numb from sitting all night. It took her a few seconds to even register his words. When she finally tried to stand, her legs buckled underneath her. She would’ve hit the floor if the butler hadn’t caught her just in time.

It took almost ten minutes before she could manage to stand properly, leaning against the butler for support as they made their way out. Even walking to the front door felt like a marathon.

When they finally got there, the butler asked gently, “Should I have a car ready for you?”

Samira didn’t hesitate. “Yes, thank you.” Then she added, almost as an afterthought, “You don’t need to call me ‘Miss’ anymore.”

She didn’t plan on coming back. Not ever.

The butler froze, a little caught off guard by that. Before he could say anything, a familiar voice spoke up from behind them. “No need to call a car. I’ll take her.”

Jean. Samira turned, surprised to see him. She hadn’t really believed he would show. But there he was, walking up without a word and lifting her into his arms like it was the most natural thing in the world. He carried her to the car and gently settled her into the passenger seat.

She didn’t speak the entire ride.

Her eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead, expression calm, almost distant. But inside, her mind was busy, already thinking about what she needed to do next, what came after this chapter of her life.

Jean kept glancing at her, uneasy. It wasn’t like her to be this quiet. Usually, she would have said something by now, joked, chatted, anything. But now, nothing. Just silence.

He thought maybe she just needed time. But by the time they were nearly home, she still hadn’t said a word and it was starting to eat at him.

Finally, he caved. “Samira… are you thirsty? There’s water in the glovebox.”

She gave a soft “Mm,” but didn’t move or respond beyond that.

Jean wanted to say more, but just then, they pulled up to the house. Before he could even react, Samira had already opened the door and slowly started to make her way inside, limping slightly.

Jean rushed out, caught up to her and without asking, lifted her again. She didn’t fight him, just let him carry her in and lower her onto the couch.

Still, she said nothing. And Jean couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted for good.

Jean crouched down and gently lifted the hem of her pants. The motion tugged at the wound and Samira winced, sucking in a sharp breath.

“Ah, sorry, sweetheart,” he murmured, visibly flustered. “I’ll be more careful.”

As the scrape came into full view, his expression tightened. Something about seeing it; red, raw, clearly painful, hit him harder than he expected. He didn’t say anything though. Just pulled out the medicine and got to work.

Samira looked down at him in silence. For a moment, her mind drifted. She remembered being little, tripping in the yard, knees all scraped up. Jean had helped her then too, crouched just like this, dabbing ointment and blowing softly to ease the sting.

The sound of a ringtone pulled her out of the memory. Jean glanced at the phone, then stiffened. He gripped it like he was bracing for something. “Samira… I need to take this call, okay?”

In his rush, the cotton swab pressed a little too hard. Samira gasped again, her fingers tightening around the cushion beside her. She lifted her eyes and caught a glimpse of the screen. Luna.

Of course it was.

She didn’t say anything. Just slowly stood up and started making her way to the stairs. Her legs felt like lead, but she didn’t want to sit around listening to him take her call.

She took one careful step at a time. Halfway up, Jean passed her, completely ignoring her struggling up the stairs and disappeared into the study. A minute later, he burst back out with a small bottle in hand.

Samira recognized it. A rare ointment. Powerful stuff. For a second, she thought… maybe it was for her.

But then Jean brushed right past her without so much as a glance. His shoulder bumped her, hitting her already sore knee.

Pain shot through her like lightning. Her leg buckled and she fell. “Ah!”

She hit the ground hard, knees taking the brunt of it. Her vision went white at the edges, ears buzzing like static. For a second, she couldn’t even feel her legs.

Then, through the ringing, she felt a pair of arms around her. Jean’s voice, anxious and breathless, broke through. “Samira? Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

But she couldn’t answer. The pain had swallowed everything else. Jean looked flustered as he bent down to pick her up.

But before he could, his phone rang again. He glanced at it and the second he answered, Luna’s voice came through, sharp and whiny. “Jean, where are you? My knees really hurt… I can’t take it anymore.”

And in that moment, Samira understood. So that was who the medicine was for. Not her. He didn’t bring it for her. He never even thought to.