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.

The moment his phone rang again, Jean froze. Then Luna’s voice came through loud and clear. “Jean, where are you? My knee’s killing me. It really hurts…”

Right then, Samira understood. The ointment, the rush, the concern, it hadn’t been for her. It never was. Jean's focus snapped back to his phone and the hand supporting her was gone in an instant.

“Hang in there, Luna. I’m on my way!” His footsteps echoed down the stairs, growing softer until they vanished completely.

Samira stayed where she was, curled slightly on the floor, palms flat against the cold ground. Her eyes closed as she breathed through the pain.

Tears slipped silently down her cheeks and for the first time, she couldn’t tell if it was her body that hurt more, or her heart.

It was half an hour before she managed to push herself up again. Moving slowly, she made her way to her room.

Not long after, her phone rang.

“Ms. Jourdain,” a calm voice reported on the other end. “Everything is ready. The body’s prepped and all the points are set. Just waiting for your word.”

She exhaled softly. “Alright. Prepare a new ID for me. I’ll make my move in three days.”

Three days. That was all she needed. Then she would finally be out of here for good. The thought made her chest feel a little lighter.

Jean didn’t come back during those three days. Samira didn’t ask. She already knew where he was and with whom.

On the fourth day, just as she was wrapping things up, he walked in. She was in the middle of clearing out old photos, tossing them into a box, one by one. She wasn’t taking much. And she definitely wasn’t taking memories.

Jean stepped in with a brightness in his eyes she hadn’t seen in a long time. He walked right up to her and gently grabbed her hand.

“Samira, how’s your knee? Is it still bothering you? Let me check.” He bent down, about to lift her pant leg, but she stopped him.

“It’s fine. Healed up already,” she said flatly. He didn’t push, just nodded, looking around as if searching for something.

Then he asked, almost too casually, “By the way… where’s the necklace? The one my mom gave you when we got married?”

Samira paused. The necklace… Miranda had given it to her personally. It was one of those symbolic pieces passed down to the Zaccaro daughters-in-law.

Jean had never even mentioned it before. Not once. She studied his face for a moment but said nothing about it. “It’s in the study. Inside the safe.”

“Great,” he said quickly. “Mom wants to get it cleaned. I’ll just take it over and bring it back in a couple days.”

After today, Samira wouldn’t be the Zaccaro Family’s daughter-in-law anymore. The necklace didn’t belong to her now and honestly, she didn’t care enough to question Jean’s excuse. Whether it was a lie or not, she just didn’t have the energy to dig into it.

Jean took the necklace and left soon after, quick, like he couldn’t wait to be gone.

Later that afternoon, Miranda called. “Samira, come with me to the charity gala tonight,” she said, her voice as warm as always. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

Samira remembered that gala from her previous life, how she had said yes to Miranda’s invitation, walked into the venue… and found Jean and Luna there, together.

That night had ended in flames; pain, humiliation and eventually, death. But tonight, she was going again.

Not because she hadn’t learned her lesson, but because she had. This night was a piece of the puzzle she couldn’t skip.

In the evening, Miranda sent a car. For all her faults, Miranda had always treated Samira with kindness. Even after everything that happened when she was a child, Miranda never backed away from her.

An hour later, the car pulled up in front of the venue. Samira stepped out and immediately spotted Miranda waiting by the entrance. She walked over and Miranda pulled her into a gentle hug.

But when she leaned back, her eyes dropped to Samira’s bare collarbone. “Why aren’t you wearing the necklace I gave you?” she asked, puzzled.

Samira’s heart skipped just for a beat, just long enough to know Jean had lied. But again… she wasn’t surprised.

“I forgot,” she said casually, as if it didn’t matter. Because it didn’t. Miranda let it go and led her inside, introducing her with a proud smile to everyone they passed.

“This is my daughter-in-law,” she said over and over. Samira noticed the awkward looks. The polite smiles. The not-so-subtle glances.

Everyone here knew Jean had come with someone else. She was still the wife, sure, but in name only. She lowered her gaze and let a faint, sarcastic smile touch her lips.

A few minutes later, Miranda excused herself to speak with the event organizer and told Samira to look around.

As she walked through the glittering hall, it felt like déjà vu. Same place. Same faces. Same script. Only this time, she wasn’t the naive woman from before.