Chapter 2

On the way back to the dorms, my phone buzzed with a message from my mom.

"Mom: [Chloe, sweetie, I shipped two care packages of essentials to your campus. Make sure to drop one off for Julian.]"

I replied with a brief "[Okay]", pressed a hand against my sore stomach, and dragged myself to the campus package hub.

Our families had been close for decades, living in neighboring villas. Julian and I grew up together as best friends.

If not for that horrific kidnapping, we would still be inseparable.

Instead, fate made a cruel joke of us. Julian hated me with every fiber of his being because his father died saving me.

And crushed by unbearable guilt, my parents constantly pressured me to do whatever I could to make it up to him.

Today’s chore: delivering his care package.

I opened SnapChat and typed out a message to Julian.

"[I'm waiting outside your dorm hall. My mom sent some essentials for you.]"

He replied with two cold words: "[At a party.]"

At least he didn't tell me to throw it away.

I sat on the low brick wall near his dorm entrance, waiting for over an hour in the chilly evening air.

Finally, his silhouette appeared under the streetlights.

His messy dark hair shadowed his eyes, hiding his expression. As he stepped closer, the sharp scent of alcohol hit me.

"Drinking this late isn't good for you," I muttered.

"Mind your own business."

I held out the box, but he made no move to take it. My grip slipped, and the items scattered across the pavement.

I dropped to my knees to pick them up, but a hand gripped my wrist and hauled me upright, slamming me back against the brick wall.

Julian stared down at me, his gaze dark and suffocating.

"I told you I never want to see you again. Are you deaf?"

"Does your family really think tossing pocket change and care packages at me will clear your conscience?"

"Fine. If you're so desperate to make amends... how about you sleep with me tonight?"

He let out a cruel, humorless laugh, gripped my chin, and forced his mouth onto mine.

Adrenaline surged through me. I shoved him away with everything I had and swung my hand across his face with a loud "SLAP!"

"You've crossed the line, Julian!"

Tears spilled over my lashes, betraying my anger.

He froze, his cheek stinging red, stunned by the tears streaming down my face.

I spun around and bolted back to my room, burying myself under the covers to cry my eyes out.

Then my phone chimed.

"Mom: [Did you give the box to Julian?]"

"Mom: [You're at the same college, you need to look out for each other. Be extra patient and kind to him, Chloe. His father died for our family. We owe him everything.]"

At first, I truly pitied him.

I used to knock on his door every weekend trying to cheer him up. I took baking classes just to make his favorite cakes, only for him to toss them directly into the trash right in front of me.

Eventually, the pity dried up. If anything, I felt sorrier for myself.

I had done nothing wrong, yet I was forced to shoulder Julian’s endless resentment and my parents’ suffocating guilt.

After I pulled myself together, I texted my mom back: "[I know. He got it.]"

At four in the morning, a notification popped up on SnapChat from Julian.

"[I'm sorry. I had too much to drink.]"

"[Don't get the wrong idea. I have zero feelings for you. I already like someone else.]"

It was the first apology he had offered since the tragedy two years ago.

Yet it felt more like a slap in the face than an apology.

The girl he liked turned out to be Gemma Taylor—the girl he carried to the medical tent during orientation.

She was the top-ranking scholarship student in our department. Fragile on the outside, but painfully insecure and fiercely proud underneath. Yet Julian was completely infatuated with her.

He once sneered that Gemma at least had self-respect, unlike me, who acted like a spineless leech.

Throughout our college years, the two of them were joined at the hip. Even though Julian never publicly confirmed Gemma was his official girlfriend, everyone on campus treated them as a couple.