Chapter 3

As my consciousness surfaced from the haze, the smell of disinfectant filled my nose.

"You're awake?"

George was leisurely peeling an apple, asking me in that gentle voice.

My mind was foggy.

The mockery from the two of them on the phone still circled through my head.

"Why."

A hoarse, calm voice came out of my mouth.

Why did you lie to me?

And why did you let me find out?

Why would you do this to me?

George's hands paused for a moment.

"Because."

"You're too stupid."

"I love you so much that I couldn't bear to have you early. I wanted to save something beautiful for our wedding night."

Then George suddenly burst out laughing.

"You actually believed that kind of stupid nonsense? Hahahaha!"

The next second, his expression turned vicious.

"Who do you think you are, that you deserve to be cradled like a princess by me?"

"Your own parents threw you away, and a lowly mongrel who fights a dog for scraps actually managed to fool me!"

"I really thought your sunny innocence was real."

"These three years of betrayal—that's your punishment."

"You had no idea, did you?"

George opened his eyes wide, leaning close with an exaggerated smile on his lips.

"Every time I did it with Lucretia at home, I'd make her put on your clothes, kneel in front of me, and call me master."

"You only deserve to be a dog I lead around in circles!"

George's laughter drilled through my eardrums, overlapping with my younger brother's laughter in my memory.

"Haha, the mongrel's fighting a dog for food, how funny, so funny!"

In that moment, it was like I had gone back to my childhood.

The childhood of nothing but leftovers, chores that never ended, and curses I couldn't escape.

Grandma and my uncle and aunt would say it with twisted faces—that I wasn't worthy.

A burden nobody wanted, a curse, a mongrel.

Not worthy of a seat at the table. Not worthy of clothes to cover my body.

Not worthy of living in the house, not worthy of a kind look from my family.

And not worthy of anyone's sincerity, not worthy of being anyone's favorite.

I really was stupid.

I thought that once I escaped that house, everything from before would just be the past.

I thought that as long as I wanted it, I could be a sunny, hopeful child, a child someone could love.

But it was all an illusion.

I was obsessed with wanting to be someone's favorite.

To prove that I was worthy.

Worthy of being loved, worthy of the sunshine, worthy of being a person with dignity.

So I grabbed the hand George held out to me.

I thought I had grasped a love that was mine alone.

But the truth was—

I had handed George the dagger that was aimed at me, with my own hands.

And then I was stabbed until nothing was left whole.

I forced my eyes open and squeezed out a sentence.

"Why don't you keep lying to me?"

My heart was hollow, but there were no tears.

It seemed like they couldn't come anymore.

George gave a contemptuous sneer.

"Because you're too stupid."

"So many clues, and you didn't notice a single one in three years."

"I'm getting a little bored of this game."

"But I have to admit—lying there on the bed with your face all pale, you really do look like a dead dog."

As he spoke, he finished peeling the apple in his hand.

Just like always, he neatly cut off a piece and held it to my lips.

Speaking cruel words with a gentle expression.

So this was who he really was.

I looked at him.

Then calmly turned my head, avoiding the piece of apple.

Thunk!

The fruit knife stabbed through the apple and buried itself in the bedside table.

George suddenly stood up, pinching my chin, forcing my head back straight.

"You won't look at me?"

"From the moment you took my hand, you've belonged to me for the rest of your life."

"Want to run? Keep dreaming!"

His words, spoken through gritted teeth, seemed to carry a cold menace.

I looked into his eyes, bloodshot with rage.

One word at a time.

"I want to break up."