Chapter 3

Bright red blood struck the floor, winding out into thin scarlet rivers.

There was a split at my temple, the dark swimming up in waves, Zachery's shape flickering in front of me again and again.

His lips moved, guilt churning in his eyes.

And still the arm he had free went around Lucretia.

I don't know how long it took before I slowly pushed myself up off the floor and inched, step by step, to the couch in the living room.

When Zachery came out of the bedroom, I was dabbing iodine on the cut.

He crossed the room quickly and reached for the cotton swab in my hand.

I tilted my head, just slightly, and slipped away from his hand without letting it show.

His hand hung there in the air, and he looked at me with something complicated in his eyes.

"I didn't mean to."

He lowered his hand slowly and sighed.

"I know you. With a temper like yours, you'd never shove Lucy."

"But she doesn't have much time left. Just play along with her. Apologize to her."

My hand stopped mid-motion, and I looked at him as if I were meeting him for the first time.

"Zachery."

I drew in a deep breath.

"And if I told you Lucretia doesn't have cancer?"

He froze for a moment, then let his gaze slide off to the side.

"Do you have to make a scene like this?"

I turned my face away and said nothing more.

He was quiet for a while, then got up and went to the kitchen.

Not long after, a bowl of steaming red bean porridge was set down in front of me.

"Eat something first. We'll take Lucy for her wedding photos in a bit."

"After all, this is probably the last time the three of us will ever be together in this life."

I looked at that bowl of red bean porridge, and something went hazy in me.

The year I first started college, I fell gravely ill, and doctor after doctor was at a loss.

My parents were abroad and couldn't get back, so it was Lucretia who pulled her family's connections and brought in all those specialists to treat me.

Zachery took me into his home to care for me and had the cook make me something different every single day.

But in that stretch, everything I ate came right back up, and I wasted down to skin and bone.

That was the first time Zachery ever set foot in a kitchen. He shut himself in there for an entire day just to produce one bowl of red bean porridge that hadn't scorched, and a few little plates of plain, light dishes.

Back then, over that one bowl of porridge, I was so moved I wept, and swore I would stay by his side for the rest of my life.

But all my giving in, again and again, had bought me nothing but a double betrayal.

"I'm not going."

I said it flatly.

His expression stiffened for an instant.

"Maureen…"

"You two are the legally married couple, after all. What would I even be there for? To give everyone something to laugh at?"

My tone was so calm it surprised even me.

Maybe once a person has been hollowed out, there's nothing left to stir up any emotion at all.

"Zach, I'm changed. When are we leaving?"

Lucretia stood there in a white dress, her eyes full of longing.

Zachery gave me a long, deep look, and left with Lucretia anyway.

The apartment went quiet.

I lifted a hand and touched my forehead. It was frighteningly hot.

But I couldn't stay here any longer.

I swallowed a couple of fever pills without much thought, braced myself on the armrest of the couch to stand, dug out my suitcase, and started packing.

The cut at my temple throbbed, and even my breath came out scalding, but I didn't dare stop.

I had to be gone before they got back.

"Maurie, are you leaving?"

Lucretia's voice came out of nowhere behind me.

I stuffed the coat in my hand into the suitcase without turning my head.

"Maurie, can you grab my perfume for me? I forgot to bring it."

Lucretia widened those soft, mild eyes and looked at me, all innocence.

"Don't you have hands of your own?"

Lucretia paused, and something vicious flickered at the bottom of her eyes.

I went into the bedroom, picked up the last shirt, and had barely turned around when a thick cloud of scent hit me in the face.

Lucretia was standing in the bedroom doorway, spraying it at my face a few more times.

My airway clamped shut all at once, every breath turning into a sharp whistle.

"Maurie, what's wrong? You look awful."

Lucretia tossed the perfume bottle into the trash, and every trace of the smile wiped clean off her face in an instant.

I dropped straight to my knees, both hands clawing at my collar, my throat as if wrenched tight by a wire, able to push out nothing but a thin hiss of air.

Zachery's terrified voice cracked through the air.

"You… is your asthma acting up?"