Chapter 2

Hayley's POV

There was nothing in my eyes. It was like looking at burnt-out embers—not a single spark left to ignite.

For three whole years, my eyes had followed him everywhere, filled with cautious devotion and a smothering affection that always drove him crazy. But now, they were hollow.

His mouth opened to say something, but the office door swung wide from the outside.

"Julian! I just picked up your favorite steak from that Michelin-starred spot you love, are you... oh my goodness!"

Clara walked in, wearing a tailored Chanel suit and balancing on four-inch stilettos. Taking in the mess and the standoff between us, she gasped dramatically, covering her mouth, though a flicker of smug satisfaction danced in her eyes.

"What happened here? Hayley, did you upset Julian again?" Clara strolled naturally over to his side, linking her arm through his with practiced intimacy. "Julian, don't be mad. But really, Hayley, you know he has a sensitive stomach. How could you make such a greasy mess all over his floor?"

A familiar voice. A familiar routine. If this were before, I would have scrambled to explain myself, maybe even burst into tears out of guilt. But right now, I simply pulled my wrist from Julian's grip.

Julian's focus instantly shifted to Clara. The irritation rolling off him miraculously subsided. Letting her hold his arm, he scoffed, his voice slipping back into that haughty, dismissive drawl. "She's just clumsy. Can't even hold a soup container properly."

I didn't say a word. I quietly knelt down and started picking up the sharp porcelain shards with my bare hands. The inner layer was completely shattered, its razor-sharp edges slick with grease—slippery and hazardous.

Watching me crouch on the floor, a malicious glint flashed in Clara's eyes. She took an intentional step forward, planting the needle-thin heel of her shoe directly onto the back of my hand as I reached for a piece of glass.

"Ah!"

A jagged shard instantly sliced deep into my palm. Bright red blood welled up, mixing with the hot, greasy broth on the floor in a gruesome mess.

"Oh! I'm so, so sorry! I didn't see you down there!" Clara shrieked, jumping back and clutching her chest as if she were the victim. Her eyes welled with tears as she looked up at Julian, all fragile and helpless. "Julian, I didn't mean to, really! I just wanted to see the files on your desk... I honestly didn't see her hand."

A searing, throbbing pain shot up my arm. I stared down at the deep gash across my palm, watching my blood drip onto the floorboards.

My mind suddenly went to Jason. Back then, he never even let me chop vegetables, always saying my hands were meant for painting and needed to be protected. Even if I just got a tiny paper cut, he would panic, disinfect it, put on a bandage, and hold my hand to his lips to blow on it softly.

But Jason was dead. There was no one left in this world to care about my pain.

A crushing wave of grief swallowed me whole. I hung my head, heavy tears splashing silently into the pool of blood. I didn't make a sound, but my shoulders trembled violently, like a dying animal gasping for air.

Julian looked at the blood on the floor, then at my shaking frame, his scowl deepening. He took a step forward, but Clara tightened her grip on his arm.

"Julian, is Hayley mad at me? I really didn't do it on purpose... She's bleeding so much. Have someone take her to get it bandaged, please. It's all my fault..." Clara's voice broke into fake sobs, playing her damsel routine to perfection.

"Enough, what are you crying for? Clara didn't mean it!" Julian snapped down at me. "Do you not have eyes? Tearing up over a little scratch—go down to the clinic and get it wrapped already! Stop being such an eyesore!"

My trembling stopped.

Using my uninjured hand against the floor, I slowly pushed myself up. I didn't look at Clara, nor did I look at him. I simply wiped the blood from my hand onto my jeans, my movements mechanical and numb.

"Sorry to bother you."

Leaving those words behind, I turned and walked out of the office.