Chapter 4

Isabella suppressed the panic in her eyes, her voice turning wounded.

"Zoe, what are you saying... Are you sick of me? Fine, I'll go..."

I walked straight over and yanked her up off the sofa.

She took two steps out of reflex, then froze.

After a moment of silence, she lowered her head and stood there quietly.

I stared at her face, and it brought back our college days.

We saved up together to go to concerts, took turns wearing each other's favorite clothes.

When I was heartbroken, she stayed with me on the field, walking until dawn.

She said, "Zoe, from now on, if anyone makes you shed a single tear, I won't let it go."

When a classmate spread filthy sexual rumors about me and my depression flared up and I slit my wrists, she broke down the door and called 911.

She kept watch outside the operating room all night, and the first thing she said when she saw me wake up was:

"Zoe, don't leave me. I can't take it."

All these years, I'd long thought of her as my own sister.

She fell into an online loan scam, and I emptied my living expenses to pay it off for her.

After graduation, when she kept hitting walls in her job hunt, I stayed up late nights coaching her on interview skills until she landed an offer.

When she went through her "domestic-abuse divorce," I drove to the station that same night to pick her up and took care of her down to the last detail.

I handed her the best of everything I had, and she was the one who hurt me the deepest.

My voice was calm.

"Three months of pretending—no, three years—aren't you tired?"

Otto shifted to block her from me.

"It's not her fault. The wrong is mine."

"Don't blame her. If you want to curse someone, curse me."

I looked at him coldly.

"Of course you're in the wrong. Your wrong was making me wait on the woman you treasure like a dog for three months."

He said in a low voice, "Don't put it so ugly. She's still going to be our bridesmaid at the wedding."

Isabella came over and grabbed my hand, her tears splashing onto the back of it.

"Zoe, I know I was wrong. I was planning to end this before you two got married... I didn't want to hurt you..."

I flung her off hard. "Keep this marriage for yourself, then."

Isabella staggered and fell to the floor, bending over and clutching her belly.

Her face twisted in pain. "Otto, the baby..."

Otto's face went white. He shoved me away hard and rushed over to scoop her up.

I dropped onto the sofa, my mind ringing.

My gaze fell on her hand covering her lower belly, then slowly moved to the taut line of Otto's jaw.

I was shaking all over, a wave of nausea rushing up my throat.

"Otto, Isabella, you two make me sick."

He turned his head to look at me, his face livid.

"Is now really the time to hear you air your grievances?"

"If anything happens to the baby, fiancée or not, I won't go easy on you."

He carried her out the door, his hurried figure making it look as if she were the most precious treasure in the world.

The door shut, and I sat alone for a long time.

When night fell, I stood up and took a cab home.

I opened my suitcase and started packing my things.

At half past midnight, Otto sent a message.

The baby's fine. I'll stay with her at the hospital these next few days.

Don't blame Isabella. You're afraid of the pain and don't want to have kids, so she offered to have one for you.

Take this time to cool off. The wedding still happens, life still goes on.

I didn't reply. I dragged my suitcase to the entryway and changed my shoes.

I turned around and took one last look.

The blanket I loved to curl up under was on the sofa, the decorative print I'd picked hung on the wall, and the half-finished bag of chips still sat on the coffee table.

I gave a little wave, saying goodbye to the home I'd lived in for five years.

The door closed softly behind me.

......

A few days later, Otto brought Isabella home from the hospital.

Looking at the empty apartment, the two of them fell silent.

After a while, Isabella spoke. "She needs some quiet time alone. Let's give her a little space."

"I know her. She can't bear to leave us. In the end she'll forgive us."

"The wedding's in a month. She'll come back."

Otto touched the photo of the three of us on the coffee table and gave a low "mm."

But a week went by, then two.

I still hadn't shown up.

He finally couldn't hold back and sent me a message.

You should be over it by now. If you don't come back soon, there won't be time to look at the venue or try on the wedding dress.

When he saw that red exclamation mark, he frowned and called me.

The call connected, and the other end was loud with voices and firecrackers going off.

The voice that came through the receiver was a stranger's.

"Isn't this the bride's phone? How did it end up here in the dressing room?"