Chapter 3

"Tara, aren't you going to eat some food?"

Seeing my indifference, Ethan proactively pushed the plate of peeled shrimp toward me.

"This shrimp is quite fresh."

Looking at that plate of shrimp contaminated with Rachel's saliva, my stomach instantly churned.

I felt utterly disgusted.

"No, thank you," I said flatly.

"Tara, what are you making a fuss about now? You've been sulking ever since Rachel walked through the door."

"What happened to our daughter was an accident. Why do you insist on blaming Rachel?"

Ethan's voice turned cold.

I looked at him in confusion, about to speak---

But was interrupted by Rachel's crying.

"Ethan, should I not have come? Tara seems to really hate me... Maybe I should just leave, even if those people beat me to death..."

"Don't talk nonsense. This is my house. I can let whoever I want stay here."

"She's just been in that place too long. Her temper's become strange. Don't pay attention to her."

Ethan coaxed her gently.

Hearing these words, my heart felt nothing.

Only numbness remained.

And so Rachel moved in.

She couldn't sit still either.

Every day she found new ways to assert her presence in front of me.

Wandering around the living room in a silk nightgown.

Looking for something, her eyes occasionally glancing my way.

I found her behavior bizarre.

I just thought there was something wrong with her brain.

Ethan had been so busy these past few days that he'd been staying at his office. Who was she performing for?

But I couldn't be bothered. I turned back to watching TV.

Then I caught sight of a small plush toy in the corner of the TV cabinet.

The toy was dusty, one eye slightly loose.

My heart clenched painfully.

This was my daughter's favorite. How could it be here?

I was still pondering this when Rachel suddenly reached from behind me and snatched the plush toy from my hands.

"Oh thank god, I thought I'd lost it."

I stared at her. "This is yours?"

Rachel raised her chin, smiling smugly. "Yes, Ethan gave it to me. He said it suits my personality perfectly."

Ethan gave it to her?

Fragments of broken images flashed through my mind.

My daughter running toward me in a pink tutu, bouncing with joy.

"Give it back." I reached out to Rachel, my voice hoarse.

"Why should I? It's mine!"

"This was my daughter's. It can't be yours!"

I lunged forward and grabbed Rachel's wrist.

"Let go of me!" Rachel screamed.

The front door burst open and Ethan, who'd left work early, rushed in.

Seeing this scene, he said nothing and shoved me away.

I crashed heavily into the corner of the table, sharp pain shooting through my waist.

Ethan shielded Rachel and glared at me furiously. "Tara, have you lost your mind?!"

I pointed at the plush toy, tears streaming down my face.

"This was Nina's. Ethan, why is she saying it's hers?"

A flash of discomfort crossed Ethan's face.

"That was a gift I gave Rachel!"

"Now you're even trying to steal this? Are you still sick?!"

Those words were like a bucket of ice water poured over my head.

I stopped arguing.

Because I suddenly realized my memory had serious problems.