Chapter 1

Six months ago, I found a little girl who blinked up at me and said,

"So this was what you were like back when you were full of life."

Before I could understand what she meant, she dropped to her knees in front of me.

"Please take me in. I don't have parents. I'm starving to death..."

Looking at her face that resembled mine in some ways, my heart softened and I brought her home.

Strangely enough, she seemed to know all my habits, like she was my shadow.

"Serena, I love you more than anyone in this world... No, I only love you."

She always looked at me with bright eyes, but looked at my husband with eyes full of poison.

Until the day I got pregnant, she suddenly became a different person...

During the time my husband and I were trying to conceive, I found a girl downstairs.

She blinked at me cutely.

I was still hesitating about whether to take her to the police station when she suddenly dropped to her knees in front of me.

"Please take me in. I don't have parents. I'm starving to death..."

Looking at her face that resembled mine in some ways, my heart softened and I brought her home.

My husband Marcus woke up and came out of the bedroom rubbing his eyes.

When he saw the girl I was supporting, he froze for a moment, then showed a gentle smile.

"Is this your sister? You two look so alike."

I laughed. Taking a closer look at the girl, we really did look similar.

"Found her downstairs. She has a high fever," I said.

Marcus immediately came over to help. The moment his hand touched the girl's shoulder, she jerked away like she'd been shocked, staring at Marcus with eyes that made my back go cold.

"She's probably scared," Marcus said, withdrawing his hand. His smile looked a bit stiff. "I'll go get fever medicine."

I changed the girl into dry clothes.

She was very thin, with protruding collarbones and wrists so slender they looked like they might snap.

While drying her hair, I noticed a scar behind her ear that looked like an old wound.

For some reason, this made my heart clench, and I unconsciously softened my movements.

Marcus brought warm water and medicine, but the girl refused to drink.

I took the cup, and only then did she open her mouth, her eyes never leaving me.

"What's your name?" I asked gently.

"...Lily."

"And your last name?"

She was silent for a long time, then glanced up at me before quickly lowering her eyes again. Her voice was so soft I could barely hear it. "Whitmore."

Same as mine.

What a coincidence.

That night I slept in the guest room with her.

I don't know why, but facing this child of unknown origin, I couldn't muster much wariness. Instead, I felt a strange sense of closeness.

I woke up in the middle of the night to find her staring at me with eyes too complex for a child.

"Go to sleep." I tucked the blanket around her.

"You shouldn't have brought me back," she suddenly said.

"Why?"

"You'll regret it."

I didn't take it seriously, thinking she was delirious.

By morning, her fever had broken, but she insisted on not contacting family or going to the police station.

"I don't have any family," she said.

Marcus suggested at breakfast, "We should still contact the police. What if she ran away from home..."

"I'm not leaving." Lily cut him off, her voice cold.

The atmosphere became awkwardly tense. I tried to smooth things over. "Let her stay a few days. We can talk about it when she's better."

Marcus glanced at me with a look that made me uncomfortable.

But he quickly smiled. "Whatever you say."

He was always like this---gentle, considerate, always putting me first.

My colleagues all said I was lucky to marry such a perfect husband.

I thought so too, but Lily didn't seem to agree.

Lily settled into my home.

She was very quiet, so quiet she was almost like a shadow.

But I could feel her gaze always following me, watching me make coffee, watching me answer the phone, watching me stand on the balcony lost in thought.

On the third day, she did something that surprised me.

My migraine flared up and I was searching everywhere for medicine.

Lily silently walked over and handed me a box of ibuprofen and a glass of warm water.

"You usually keep it in the left second drawer," she said. "But you ran out last time. This is newly bought."

I froze.

The medicine was indeed in the left drawer, and I had indeed run out.

I hadn't had time to buy more yet.

"How did you know..."

"I guessed." She looked away.

Later I discovered she knew too many things.

She knew I only drank water at 131 degrees Fahrenheit, knew I had a back injury and couldn't sit for long, knew I bit my nails when stressed.

Once when I was cutting fruit and cut my hand, she rushed over with abnormal speed, grabbed my wrist to check the wound, her face frighteningly pale.

"It's fine, just a small cut." I tried to comfort her.

Her expression looked so fragile.

But Lily stared at the blood mark, her eyes vacant for a moment.

"...It was like this before too."

"What?"