Chapter 1

I was running a fever of 104, and my boyfriend, who was about to head downstairs to buy medicine, suddenly stopped in his tracks.

"Actually, when I said I couldn't do it, I was lying to you."

"For my whole life, I'll only ever do it with Lucretia."

"Because everything about her revolves around me."

"And you—you're always ordering me around. I'm not like your boyfriend, I'm like your lapdog."

After saying that, he opened the door and walked out.

All that was left in the room was the cough I couldn't swallow down.

So it turned out that three years without sex was him keeping himself chaste for someone else.

The way he'd gladly handled everything for me was really the reluctant behavior of a lapdog.

After a long while, I opened my secondary social media account and typed out each word.

That's it, then. Let's end it here.

I don't know how much time passed, but my head hurt more and more.

I went down to the pharmacy and grabbed a few boxes of fever reducer.

When I swiped my insurance card, it showed insufficient balance.

I tapped into the insurance card account.

I froze for a moment.

The most recent charge was an hour ago.

Condoms.

Strawberry flavored.

"It's nice to be young. Your boyfriend comes here all the time to buy that stuff—several boxes at a time."

"But you've got a fever, so you really should take it easy."

"It's fine. Her boyfriend buys allergy medicine, cotton swabs, dental floss, everything. He's so thorough."

"You're a lucky girl."

The two women at the pharmacy covered their mouths and giggled.

But I never had allergies, and I never used dental floss.

As the world spun around me, a sour, bitter taste rose up in my throat.

I couldn't help doubling over and gagging.

Nauseating.

So nauseating.

I forced myself home, took the medicine, and lay in bed, but my hand opened the insurance card statement without my meaning to.

Three days ago, at seven in the evening, one box.

That day, he said he'd eaten too much and wanted to go downstairs for a walk.

"How can I take care of my little princess if I don't keep myself healthy?"

He kissed the top of my head and told me to stay home like a good girl.

Two weeks ago, three boxes—grape, strawberry, banana.

He said the company had scheduled a three-day business trip.

"Your Highness the Princess, once I close this deal, I'll be one step closer to marrying you!"

When I saw him to the door, what was I thinking?

He works so hard.

He loves me so much.

Unsurprisingly, the deal fell through.

I couldn't bear to see him so down, so I sold my camera and took him on a trip.

Heh.

I couldn't help it—two laughs pushed their way up out of my chest.

So stupid.

Suddenly, my finger stopped on a date.

Three months ago.

Two boxes.

I remembered that day clearly. The roof downstairs was leaking, and that man forced his way into my apartment to check.

He never found the leak, but he still trashed the place into a total mess.

I called my boyfriend, crying.

On the other end, he was breathing a little heavily.

"Baby, I'm sorry, I'm just too busy, I can't come back."

I didn't want to bother him, so I held back my emotions and quickly hung up.

I never heard the panting of a man and a woman tangled together on the other end.

My finger slid down mechanically.

The list of charges that went on and on—every single one of them mocking me.

Three years.

Every time I needed him, every business trip, even every time I went out alone.

He was always tangled up with some other woman.

I was just like a joke.

My head hurt more and more, like I might lose consciousness the next second.

I opened the dialer.

The emergency contact was George Delgado.

I lowered my eyes and dialed 911.

He was no longer someone I could trust.