Chapter 2

Half an hour later, I arrived at my childhood home. I was there to retrieve my parents' belongings.

I had thought that time had mellowed the raw edges of my emotions, but looking at the familiar furnishings in the house, my eyes still welled up with tears.

Every birthday, my mom and dad would prepare a three-tiered cake for me.

Dad would hold me close, his light stubble tickling my cheek. Mom would stand by, laughing and playfully scolding him for being silly.

But now, the people in those cherished memories were just small, black and white photographs.

I traced my parents' photo, lost in thought for a long time, until the doorbell rang.

Gaylen Thorne stood before me, a hint of apprehension in his eyes.

Behind him stood Stella Vance, whom I hadn't seen in seven years.

"I knew you'd come back here on your birthday."

"Honestly, you don't have to lie to me about being married."

"We grew up together, Alice. No matter what, I truly wish for your happiness."

Before I could even speak, Stella's eyes already began to redden.

She clasped my hand, her voice choked with tears.

"Yes, he told me everything. You've had a really hard time these past few years, and you even became a hostess, didn't you?"

"Don't degrade yourself like this. If you're in trouble, just tell me!"

"We're sisters, after all. I've forgiven you for what happened back then!"

Forgiven?

I found it utterly ridiculous.

I gave a faint, cynical tug at the corner of my mouth, then sat on the sofa and spoke calmly.

"Seven years. I'm beyond caring about who was right or wrong."

"Gaylen Thorne, Stella Vance, if you're just here to spout nonsense, please leave."

Stella's sobs froze, and for a moment, the atmosphere was thick with tension.

Gaylen looked at me, then broke the silence.

"Go get her a coffee first, her favorite, with just a touch of sweetness."

His familiar, casual tone made me momentarily stunned.

My thoughts drifted back more than twenty years.

Back then, Gaylen and I grew up together, and we were engaged from a young age.

When the Thorne family went bankrupt, his father was sentenced to life, and his mother driven to suicide. It was *my* father who, despite immense pressure, took Gaylen in.

And it was my mother who held him close when others looked down on him, telling him he wasn't an unwanted child.

I remember little Gaylen, his eyes red and swollen from crying, stammered a promise: he'd make me the happiest girl in the world when we grew up.

I believed him. And at first, he truly was wonderful.