I'm Welcoming My Second Marriage

Christopher’s brows furrowed as he stood at the villa's entrance, his sharp gaze fixed on the empty driveway. His voice, low and unwavering, broke the silence. “Go back and cut the cake yourself.” Charlotte’s bright smile faltered, her voice softening into a familiar, hesitant tone as she played her usual card. “But Chris... my heart’s feeling a little fragile and it’s so cold out here.” At that, Christopher finally turned to look at her. His piercing, icy stare gradually softened, shifting into the warmth and indulgence Charlotte had come to expect. He reached up and adjusted her coat, tucking it tighter around her shoulders. His tone was gentle now. “It’s snowing and freezing out here. Go inside and warm up. I’ll wait a little longer.” Charlotte hesitated before reaching for his hand, but just as she did, Evelyn arrived. She stepped through the gate and into the courtyard, only to find Christopher and Charlotte standing side by side, their attention entirely on one another. Evelyn quickly lowered her gaze, biting her lip. She said nothing, quickening her pace until she reached the center of the snowy courtyard. There, she dropped to her knees without hesitation, her movement precise and practiced. This was Christopher’s punishment. Yesterday, after an argument with Charlotte that escalated into harsh words, he had decreed that Evelyn should kneel in the snow for the entire day. No one could defy Christopher—not even Evelyn. Hearing the noise behind them, Christopher and Charlotte turned their heads. Christopher immediately pulled his hand back from Charlotte and shoved it into his coat pocket, his tone colder than the winter wind. “Where were you?” Evelyn’s voice was weak, her breath barely visible in the icy air. “There was something important I had to take care of.” Christopher’s eyes swept over her pale face, his jaw tightening. His hand flexed inside his pocket, betraying the storm of questions swirling in his mind. Who had she gone to see? Why was she back so late? And why was she wearing so little in this kind of weather? But when he finally spoke, the words came out stiff and unforgiving. “Do you know what you did wrong?” Yesterday, Evelyn had shocked everyone by lashing out at Charlotte, using crude, biting words that left Charlotte shaken—so shaken, in fact, that it triggered a mild heart episode. Christopher had been forced to cancel his meetings and rush Charlotte to the hospital. He’d spent the entire day apologizing, culminating in tonight’s city-wide fireworks display to make her birthday unforgettable. Only after all that had Charlotte forgiven the incident. To appease her further, Christopher had declared Evelyn would be punished—kneeling in the snow all day. In truth, it was more of a symbolic gesture. He hadn’t intended to take it seriously. Charlotte had been his childhood friend, practically family. They’d grown up together and Christopher would never let his fiancée undermine her. Besides, his business partnership with the Sinclair Family was far too important to jeopardize over a petty conflict. As long as Evelyn apologized and Charlotte calmed down, he’d have been satisfied. But to his disappointment, Evelyn raised her head stubbornly, her eyes meeting his without flinching. “And what, exactly, did I do wrong?” Christopher’s expression darkened instantly. If she wouldn’t acknowledge her mistakes, then he’d have to teach her. Standing tall in the snow, Christopher’s cold gaze bore into Evelyn. His voice was like frost. “Then you’ll kneel for another day. Get up tomorrow night.” With that, he grabbed Charlotte’s wrist and turned away. “Let’s go. Time to cut the cake.” As they disappeared into the warmth of the villa, Evelyn tilted her head back, watching the snow swirl and fall around her. Obedience. The word echoed in her mind as snowflakes melted on her cheeks. Christopher was her test of obedience, wasn’t he? Five years ago, he had saved her from a human trafficking ring. And from that moment on, Evelyn had latched onto him, seeing him as her anchor. Her family had been no anchor at all. Her father, who had abandoned her for another woman, barely bothered with an occasional call—at least until his new wife and child came along, after which even the rare phone calls stopped altogether. Her mother, a barely-educated woman who had struggled to raise her alone, had finally remarried and started a new family of her own. Evelyn had become a leftover piece of her broken family, a shadow nobody wanted. And so she had clung to Christopher, following him, obeying him. But now, kneeling in the snow, Evelyn wondered if she was clinging to salvation—or if she had simply traded one prison for another.

Evelyn’s past had shaped her rebellious streak. She had grown strong, fiercely independent and stubborn to a fault. Her reasoning was simple: if even her own parents had abandoned her, how could she possibly expect goodness from anyone else? That was, until she met Christopher. The day they met was etched into her memory—a moment both humiliating and life-changing. She had been grabbed by a group of angry strangers, accusing her of being a mistress. The crowd around her jeered, their judgmental whispers cutting like knives. No one listened to her frantic protests that she didn’t even know these people. No one stepped in to help. Then, like a figure descending from the heavens, Christopher had intervened. He pulled Evelyn out of the mob, his deep, calm voice cutting through the chaos like a balm. His words were firm, authoritative and laced with an unshakable confidence, “I’m her husband. Who are you? Let go of her, or I’ll call the police.” Just like that, he had saved her. As the mob dispersed, Evelyn shoved herself away from him, her pride as bruised as her arms. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the only money she had left—a single crumpled hundred-dollar bill—and thrust it toward him. Her distrust of people dripped from every syllable. “Thanks for saving me. This is all I’ve got. Is it enough? If not, I’ll find a job and pay the rest later.” Christopher had looked at the wrinkled bill, his lips quirking into an amused smirk. He should’ve walked away, but instead, he lingered, something about her defiance intriguing him. “Well,” he said, “as it happens, my company’s looking for a clerk. Interested?” Evelyn frowned suspiciously, snatching the bill back. “You’re not part of some scam, are you? Pretend to save me, then trick me into something worse?” Christopher blinked, momentarily stunned. “...You’re unbelievable.” In the end, with nowhere else to go, Evelyn followed him. What began as an arrangement of necessity gradually blossomed into something deeper. At first, Christopher admired her tenacity. Maybe it was because she was so different from the women in his world—particularly Charlotte. Evelyn’s fiery independence and unpolished honesty were a stark contrast to Charlotte’s delicate, polished demeanor. For three years, their relationship was blissful. They were inseparable and for the first time in her life, Evelyn felt like the world wasn’t entirely against her. But then Charlotte returned. Fresh from her studies abroad, Charlotte re-entered Christopher’s life with all the subtlety of a hurricane. Her presence disrupted the fragile balance Evelyn and Christopher had built. It was around this time that Christopher’s feelings began to shift. At first, he appreciated Evelyn’s stubbornness, her refusal to conform. But then he began to see it as a flaw—a flaw he wanted to fix. “You can’t keep acting like this. You need to change.” “Evelyn, why can’t you be more like Charlotte? Do you always have to be so difficult?” “There’s only so much patience a person has. Don’t test mine.” Evelyn loved Christopher deeply, but she wasn’t naive. She knew love wasn’t permanent. Her parents’ love for her had faded; why wouldn’t Christopher’s? So, she began changing—bit by bit, piece by piece—molding herself into the version of Evelyn that Christopher seemed to want. She hid her temper, bit her tongue and tried to be as poised and agreeable as Charlotte. But the more she changed, the less of herself remained. Depression crept in and soon, Evelyn was a shadow of the person she used to be. She spoke less, smiled rarely and lost interest in everything. And yet, it still wasn’t enough for Christopher. Now, as snowflakes tumbled from the sky, Evelyn knelt in the courtyard, her body trembling from the cold. The icy flakes melted on her cheeks and trickled down her neck, but she didn’t move. Through the windows of the villa, warm light spilled out, accompanied by the sound of laughter. Christopher and Charlotte’s voices mingled inside, their laughter ringing clear as they talked about something amusing. Human instinct craved warmth and light, but Evelyn only bowed her head lower. Her legs had gone numb long ago, but the faint smile on her lips was bitter and indifferent. None of it mattered. A month from now, she would be on the operating table, her life hanging by a thread. She had already decided that if she didn’t make it, so be it. Warmth, love, health, life—it all seemed so pointless. Later that night, after the birthday celebration, Christopher drove Charlotte home. As he passed the courtyard, he saw Evelyn, still kneeling in the snow. She didn’t lift her head to look at him, her figure a motionless silhouette against the white backdrop. Christopher hesitated for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. He climbed into his car, gripping the steering wheel tightly, annoyance flickering in his chest. He didn’t know why he felt that way, but it bothered him. Breaking the silence, he glanced at Charlotte and asked, “Do you think I’m... too harsh on her?”

“How’s the surgery coming along? Did they find a donor?” Charlotte asked, her tone light and cheerful. Her smile brightened as she added, “Oh, I was just about to tell you—Mother sent word. It’s all settled. The donor is from Cedar Creek and the surgery is scheduled for the end of the month. The paperwork’s already signed.” Christopher gave a small nod. “Be sure to thank them. This surgery is risky—you could still die on the operating table.” Charlotte frowned, brushing the concern aside with a casual wave. “There’s no need. Mother mentioned the donor insisted on staying anonymous. Apparently, they didn’t want to meet me and even refused the money we offered.” Her lips curved into a faint smile as she added, “From what Mother said, the donor has been dealing with depression for a long time—didn’t want to live anymore. It took a lot of convincing for them to agree. Let’s not bother them unnecessarily.” Charlotte’s emotions were a whirlwind that day—disheartened by Christopher’s persistent concern for Evelyn, yet buoyed by the news of her impending heart transplant. Despite her outward composure, unease lingered. Someone willing to give up their heart so easily, choosing to remain anonymous… Why? What if reaching out to thank them caused them to change their mind? The thought alone sent a chill through her. Besides, her family had already offered payment and the donor had refused. If the donor no longer valued their life, perhaps they viewed this as a form of gratitude to themselves. Christopher’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Alright. Handle it as you see fit.” Charlotte exhaled in relief, her tense shoulders relaxing. She gave him a soft, bashful smile. “Chris, you said you’d grant me any birthday wish this year. About the wish I just made…” “No.” He cut her off sharply before she could finish. Her smile faltered and she noticed the shift in his expression. His eyes had opened, cold and unyielding, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. “I won’t leave Evelyn. Don’t bring it up again, Charlotte. I’ll grant you anything else, but not this.” For a moment, Charlotte sat frozen, the rejection sinking in. The corners of her lips twitched awkwardly, but she quickly recovered, masking her disappointment with her usual charm. Disguising her true feelings had become second nature—she knew exactly how to present herself as the woman Christopher admired. Two seconds later, she giggled lightly, as though his stern words had rolled right off her. “Alright, then let’s pretend I didn’t make that wish. But if that one doesn’t count, you still owe me a wish for later, okay? You’ll have to agree to one condition in the future!” Her playful tone was enough to make Christopher chuckle. “Fine. Save it for later.” Satisfied, Charlotte straightened up, choosing not to press the issue further. But inside, resentment burned hotter than ever, simmering beneath her polished facade. This was the first time Christopher had denied her anything—and it was because of that woman, Evelyn, who had only entered their lives five years ago. In the past, Christopher had entertained other women in his life, but none of them had ever mattered. Charlotte had always been his priority, his constant. If she’d asked him to end things with someone, he wouldn’t have hesitated. Why was Evelyn different? What made her so special? If Charlotte hadn’t left for her studies abroad, Evelyn would never have had the chance to worm her way into Christopher’s life. But no matter. Soon, Charlotte’s health would be restored and time would be on her side. She had no intention of losing to Evelyn. *** Later that night, when Christopher returned home, he found Evelyn still kneeling in the snow. Her body trembled from the cold and snowflakes had piled onto her shoulders, forming a thick, undisturbed layer. She hadn’t even bothered to brush them off. Christopher stood there for a moment, watching her silently. The sight of her like this stirred something unnameable within him—frustration, concern, perhaps guilt. Finally, he walked toward her and broke the silence. “Do you know what you did wrong?” Evelyn’s eyelashes quivered as the frost clinging to them glinted faintly in the moonlight. The icy crust masked most of the emotions in her eyes, leaving her expression unreadable.

Evelyn lifted her head slowly, her voice barely above a whisper, hoarse and broken, “Chris, my knees hurt.” Her words hung in the icy air, fragile yet defiant. Christopher let out a soft sigh, the kind that spoke of exasperation laced with resignation. He crossed his arms, visibly trying to rein in his temper. “Evelyn, you know Charlotte and I grew up together. I’ve always been close to her and I care about her like family. That’s not something you can just change.” He paused, searching her face for understanding, then continued, “I know you don’t like her, but you can’t lash out at her like that. She’s not in good health—her heart condition makes things worse. She can’t handle the stress.” Christopher felt as though he was being more than fair, speaking to Evelyn with patience despite his frustration. To him, this was her chance to reflect and apologize. If she just took responsibility, he might be willing to forgive her. But instead, Evelyn repeated the same words, her voice softer this time, “Chris… my knees hurt. I can’t kneel anymore.” His patience snapped. The calm facade melted away as his brows furrowed and anger darkened his gaze. “Don’t act like you haven’t knelt before. You’ve been through this and come out fine. So why now? Why pretend you’re in pain after just one night?” His voice grew sharper, harsher. “I didn’t save you or stand by you just so you could throw tantrums. Stop pushing your luck, Evelyn.” A bitter laugh echoed in Evelyn’s mind, though her face betrayed no emotion. She had known this would happen. She had known he wouldn’t care—wouldn’t believe her. Once, Christopher had always been the one to shield her. When he’d made her kneel in the past, it had been more for show than punishment. The moment she’d looked truly pained, he would falter, his heart softening enough to pull her back to safety. It hadn’t taken her long to learn the rules. Back then, she could feign discomfort and he would carry her back inside, guilt etched on his face. But this time was different. Yesterday, everything had changed. Evelyn and Charlotte had fought—words sharp enough to cut, leaving deep wounds. Charlotte had hurled cruel insults, accusing Evelyn of being manipulative, of worming her way into Christopher’s life and ruining their bond. “You’re just like your mother,” Charlotte had sneered. “Pathetic, unwanted. No wonder your father left her—and you.” Evelyn couldn’t hold back. Years of life on her own had given her a sharp tongue and she let loose with biting retorts that left Charlotte visibly shaken. But then Charlotte had done the unthinkable. With a shove, she’d sent Evelyn tumbling down the staircase, leaving her knee bruised and swollen. And, as if on cue, Charlotte had played the victim perfectly. The moment Christopher appeared, she clutched her chest, gasping, feigning a heart episode. “She attacked me,” Charlotte had cried, her voice trembling. Christopher hadn’t even looked at Evelyn before sweeping Charlotte into his arms and rushing her to the hospital. Hours later, Evelyn had spent what little energy she had dragging herself to a clinic. The doctor’s words had been blunt: a hairline fracture in her knee. Rest and hospitalization were recommended. But Evelyn had refused, swallowing painkillers instead. Now, after kneeling in the snow for hours, the pain had reached unbearable levels, radiating up her leg and threatening to consume her. Christopher didn’t know any of this. He only saw her silence, interpreting it as stubbornness. His frustration mounted. “I’ve been too lenient with you,” he finally said, his voice low but cutting. “But this time, Evelyn, I won’t let it slide.” With that, he turned and walked into the house, leaving her alone in the biting cold. Evelyn tilted her head back, staring at the sky as snowflakes continued to fall, their icy edges slicing into her skin like tiny knives. The wind howled, relentless, tugging at her hair and clothes. Her lips quirked upward in a faint, bitter smile. “You haven’t been soft on me for a long time, Chris,” she murmured. *** When Charlotte arrived the next morning, Evelyn was still there—kneeling in the same spot, her body almost entirely buried in snow. Charlotte snorted derisively, a cruel smile spreading across her face. “This is what happens when you cross me,” she said, her tone dripping with mockery. “So what if you’re Chris’s girlfriend? He’ll always put me first.” Evelyn didn’t respond. Her lips were pale, her body swaying unsteadily, barely holding itself upright. Charlotte adjusted her coat, brushing past Evelyn with deliberate force, causing her to stumble to the side. Once inside, Charlotte shrugged off her coat and hung it neatly by the door. Her mood lightened as she spotted Christopher seated on the sofa, engrossed in a discussion with his assistant, who held a tablet and gestured animatedly. Charlotte approached with a casual grace, her eyes glinting with anticipation.

“What are you looking at?” Charlotte’s voice was light, almost playful, but her eyes betrayed the tension beneath her carefully composed exterior. Christopher didn’t glance up, his focus fixed on the tablet in his hands. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips as he replied,“The venue for my wedding with Evelyn. She’s always loved traditional weddings, so I’m trying to find the perfect place.” Charlotte’s hand froze mid-air, the casual grace of her movement faltering. A wave of bitterness surged in her chest as she forced herself to sit down beside him. Her tone was measured, but there was a sharpness to her words, “Do you really think someone from a background like hers deserves such a grand venue? Brother Chris, I think a simpler one would be just fine.” Her words lingered in the air like a thin veil of smoke, but Christopher’s reaction was immediate. His gaze snapped to hers, sharp and unyielding. The weight of his stare was oppressive, making Charlotte’s heart sink. “Her background?” he repeated, his voice cold and cutting. “And what about yours? Do you think you’re somehow above her?” The chill in his tone deepened. “Three years abroad and you’ve come back with prejudice? I thought you were better than that.” A bead of sweat formed on Charlotte’s temple as she realized she’d misstep. She knew Christopher well enough to recognize the subtle shifts in his temper—this wasn’t something he would easily overlook. Pasting on a strained smile, she quickly backpedaled, “That’s not what I meant, Brother Chris. I only meant that... maybe I could help? I know women best, after all. I could make sure Evelyn’s dream wedding is exactly what she wants. It’d be a nice surprise.” Christopher studied her for a long moment, the ice in his eyes thawing just slightly. Finally, he gave a small nod. “Fine. I’ll leave it to you. But use this chance to build a better relationship with her. Evelyn is your future sister-in-law and the two of you shouldn’t be at odds all the time. It makes things... difficult for me.” Charlotte’s nails dug into the palm of her hand, but her smile remained intact. “Got it,” she said, her voice dripping with false enthusiasm. “I’ll take care of it.” *** Evelyn returned home late that evening, her body trembling from hours spent in the snow. The nanny helped her inside, but the warmth of the house offered little relief. The sudden change in temperature sent jolts of pain through her body, as though needles were piercing her skin. Her legs throbbed with an excruciating ache, as if thousands of nails were driven into her bones. By the time she reached her room, the pain had become unbearable and her vision blurred. She collapsed onto her bed, fever overtaking her almost immediately. She barely had time to pull the blanket over herself when the door swung open. Charlotte entered, a smug expression on her face and a tablet clutched in her hands. She stood at the foot of the bed, her tone laced with mockery. “Oh, you’re still alive?” she sneered. “Brother Chris asked me to let you know—the bride for the wedding next month has changed. It’s me.” She didn’t wait for a response before shoving the tablet in Evelyn’s face. On the screen were photos of luxurious wedding venues. “See? I’m already picking out the location.” Evelyn didn’t respond. Her face was pale, lips cracked and her body shivered under the covers. She didn’t even bother to glance at the screen, her indifference cutting deeper than any retort. Charlotte’s smirk faltered. She frowned, her voice turning sharp. “You know how Chris feels about me, don’t you? Let me warn you—get out while you can. Don’t embarrass yourself.” She leaned closer, her words dripping with venom. “A woman like you, who was abandoned by her own parents, has no place in Chris’s life. You’re nothing but a pathetic mistress.” Evelyn finally spoke, her voice barely audible but steady, “Don’t worry. I’ll leave soon. You don’t need to make this harder for me. Now get out.” The words were simple but firm and Evelyn didn’t give Charlotte the satisfaction of seeing her break. She turned over, pulling the blanket tighter around her fragile frame and closed her eyes. Charlotte stared at her in disbelief. The Evelyn she knew would have fought back—sharp words, bitter accusations, anything to defend herself. But now, Evelyn was strangely calm, almost resigned. It unsettled Charlotte, though she quickly dismissed the feeling. Fine, she thought. It’ll save me the trouble. With a click of her heels, she turned and walked out, slamming the door behind her. Once the room was quiet again, Evelyn opened her eyes. It was hard to say what hurt more—her legs, her head, or the hollow ache in her chest. Tears slipped silently from the corners of her eyes, soaking into her pillow. The overwhelming despair returned, suffocating her. The thought of leaving everything behind—of simply ceasing to exist—seemed almost comforting. Her fever worsened, her thoughts growing hazy as she drifted in and out of consciousness. In her fevered state, she dreamt of faces from her past—people she had loved, people who had mattered. The images were blurred and fleeting, but the emotions were vivid, pulling her deeper into the haze. For a moment, she felt warmth. And then, only darkness.

It felt as if time had rewound, back to when she was just a little girl—those golden days when it was only her, Mom and Dad, a perfect family of three. Every evening, Dad would come home from work with bags full of her favorite foods and sometimes, if she was lucky, he'd bring her a new doll. Mom would always complain, “You’re just spoiling her!” even as she helped unpack the gifts, her eyes sparkling with joy. “Should we hang this pink one above Evelyn’s bed? She loves pink!” Mom would ask with a grin, holding up the latest doll. And like magic, Dad would always pull out one more surprise—this time for Mom. Sometimes it was a single flower, sometimes a delicate necklace. Mom would blush and laugh, eventually throwing herself into his arms, her protests melting away. To Evelyn, her parents’ love had always seemed unshakable, indestructible—like a fortress no one could breach. Even when she misbehaved and Mom got angry, it never truly disrupted the harmony between them. But then, the cracks started to show. At first, Dad began coming home later and later. Mom grew more irritable, her temper flaring over the smallest things. The laughter that used to fill their home became less frequent. And eventually, the gifts stopped coming—no more dolls for Evelyn, no more flowers or necklaces for Mom. Late at night, Evelyn would hear Mom’s voice rise into a storm, hysterically confronting Dad, “Who is she? Who is that woman?!” It wasn’t until much later that Evelyn pieced it together. The family she’d once thought unbreakable had started to fall apart long ago. The tiny cracks had grown into a chasm too wide to bridge. Eventually, her parents divorced. Evelyn stayed with her mom, while Dad remarried a woman she didn’t recognize. The day they met, the new “auntie” greeted her with a syrupy smile. “Evelyn, I’m your mom now too. Call me ‘Mom,’ and I’ll give you a red packet! How about that?” “Or I’ll buy you new clothes!” she added sweetly. Evelyn clenched her fists. She stayed silent at first, then shouted, her voice trembling with rage, “I won’t call you that! You’re the mistress! You stole my dad!” The woman’s smile froze and her father’s hand came down hard on Evelyn’s face. “How dare you speak like that?! Is this what your mother has been teaching you?!” The woman stepped in, her tone soft but tinged with defeat. “Don’t hit her. She’s just going through a rebellious phase—it’s normal that she doesn’t like me.” Her father sighed, resting a hand on the woman’s stomach. “I hope our future child won’t grow up to be like this.” That was the moment Evelyn realized—her father no longer had room for her in his heart. He had a new family now. She ran out crying, wiping her face as she went and from that day on, he barely reached out to her. It took nearly a decade for Evelyn to come to terms with it. People leave. Parents, lovers—it doesn’t matter. In the end, everyone leaves. By the time she graduated college and her mother announced she was remarrying, Evelyn accepted it without protest. She’d already learned to expect abandonment. But then came Christopher. Despite all her scars, she gave him everything—her trust, her heart, her love—without hesitation. And just when she thought she’d finally found someone to hold onto, she discovered the truth. There was someone else. For the sake of that other woman, Christopher belittled her, punished her and humiliated her. Even when Evelyn spiraled into depression, even after she attempted to end her life multiple times, he barely noticed. No one in this world had ever truly cherished her—not her father, not her mother, not Christopher. Love always has an expiration date. Once it’s over, it’s gone forever. Evelyn had once fought against that truth, but now she’d experienced it so often that she’d grown numb. When she finally opened her eyes, two days had passed. An IV drip was attached to her hand and a fever-reducing patch rested on her forehead. The first thing she saw was Christopher’s hand reaching out, his palm hovering above her forehead as if to check her temperature.

Evelyn’s eyelashes fluttered as she slowly opened her eyes. For a moment, her blurry gaze locked with Christopher’s before he quietly withdrew his hand. “You’re awake,” he said, his voice low and rough, heavy with fatigue. “My Aunt made porridge. Get up and have some later.” He looked exhausted, his features worn, as if he hadn’t rested properly in days. As her awareness sharpened, so did the pain. It radiated from her legs, sharp and relentless, but Evelyn endured it. Her voice was soft, almost fragile, as she asked, “If one day I’m gone... will you marry Charlotte?” Christopher froze, his gaze darkening as he stared at her. His tone turned firm, laced with a controlling edge. “Where are you planning to go?” Evelyn didn’t answer directly. Instead, she repeated her question, her voice quieter this time. “I mean, if I leave... will you marry her?” “There’s no such possibility.” His response was quick, almost impatient. He adjusted her blanket with a hint of annoyance, his eyes narrowing. “As long as you behave and stop throwing these tantrums, I’ll love you just as much as I always have.” Evelyn gave him a faint smile, one filled with a quiet resignation. She could feel the cold liquid from the IV drip seeping into her veins, mending her broken body piece by piece. Her voice was soft, tinged with helplessness. “But Christopher... I’ve never changed.” *** Evelyn spent the next month confined to her bed. Some days she scrolled through her phone, other days she lost herself in books. Often, though, she just lay there staring blankly at the ceiling, her thoughts a jumble of tangled memories and emotions. Charlotte came by daily, her presence like a bitter wind. Sometimes she would sneer, throwing taunts in Evelyn’s direction, but Evelyn never responded. Her silence seemed to frustrate Charlotte, as if she were punching air. Eventually, Charlotte stopped trying to provoke her. Instead, she focused her energy on something else—planning Christopher’s wedding. Staring at the wedding photos of Evelyn and Christopher, Charlotte’s jealousy burned like an uncontrollable flame. Those pictures should have been hers. Christopher should have been hers. The thought of them walking down the aisle together, holding hands, kissing, sharing a bed—it was unbearable. Sitting on her sofa, Charlotte clenched her fists tightly. This wedding cannot happen. Something had to be done. *** An hour later, Charlotte appeared at Evelyn’s house with a glass of water in her hand. Evelyn was reading a book, her body curled up quietly on the bed. Her slender fingers gently turned the pages, her gaze calm and serene. “Here,” Charlotte said, her voice trembling as she held out the glass. “Drink some water.” Evelyn glanced up at her, her eyes drifting to the glass. She noticed the slight tremor in Charlotte’s hand, the pale hue of her face, the nervous waver in her tone. It didn’t take much for Evelyn to realize there was something wrong with the water. But instead of calling her out, Evelyn asked softly, “You’re having surgery tomorrow, right? Are you nervous?” Charlotte gripped the glass tighter, her throat tightening. She opened her mouth to answer, but Evelyn spoke again, her voice calm yet carrying an unsettling weight. “If I drink this water and something happens to me... you won’t live long either.” Evelyn’s eyes met hers, unwavering. “Are you sure you want me to drink it?” Charlotte froze, her brows furrowing. “What do you mean?” Evelyn’s lips curled into a faint smile. She gestured toward her chest, her tone light yet cutting. “Someone needs a heart transplant. Yours, to be exact. And it just so happens I don’t want to live anymore. I signed the papers for the donation.” Her voice dropped, chillingly casual. “The heart you’ll be receiving tomorrow is mine.” Charlotte’s grip on the glass faltered and with a loud clang, it shattered on the floor. She stared at Evelyn, her face draining of color. “What... what are you talking about? Your heart? Are you saying... you signed the contract?” Evelyn calmly reached into her bedside drawer and pulled out a document. She handed it to Charlotte, her expression unchanging. “To be honest, I didn’t know the recipient was you when I signed it. The doctor wanted to keep it confidential. If I had known, I never would have agreed.” Charlotte’s hands trembled as she scanned the paper. Her voice cracked. “You’re lying. You’re lying to me! Why would you give me your heart?!” Evelyn’s smile deepened, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Why would I lie? It’s the truth. You wanted to take my life away... and now, I’m giving it to you. How poetic.” Charlotte stared at the paper in disbelief, her chest tightening with dread.

Evelyn turned another page in her book, her expression indifferent, as though the chaos unfolding before her was no more than a scene in a distant play. Christopher’s voice sharpened. “Evelyn, I’m talking to you! What happened here?” She looked up lazily, her eyes cold and detached. “I already told you. She fell. Maybe you should ask her what she was doing before that happened.” Christopher clenched his jaw, his arms tightening protectively around Charlotte, who gasped weakly in his embrace. He reached for his phone and called for an ambulance, his voice trembling with urgency. Evelyn observed him silently. The man she had once loved so deeply, now pouring his energy and care into someone else. Someone who had schemed and manipulated her way into his life. The irony was almost amusing. As the sound of sirens approached in the distance, Christopher’s anger boiled over. “Is this how you want to play it, Evelyn? Watching someone suffer without lifting a finger? You’ve changed—no, maybe this is who you’ve been all along.” Evelyn closed her book with a soft thud, the sound echoing in the tense room. She met his furious gaze with an unsettling calm. “Changed?” she repeated, her voice low and steady. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve just stopped pretending to care when it’s clear no one cares for me.” Christopher flinched at her words but quickly masked it with more anger. “This isn’t about you. It’s about Charlotte, who’s fighting for her life right now while you sit there reading like nothing’s happened!” Evelyn smirked, leaning back against the headboard. “Fighting for her life? Dramatic, isn’t it? But if it helps you sleep at night, go ahead and play the hero.” Before Christopher could respond, the paramedics burst into the room, swiftly taking over. They carefully lifted Charlotte onto a stretcher, administering oxygen as they prepared to transport her. As they carried her out, Charlotte managed to glance back at Evelyn, her eyes filled with a mix of desperation and hatred. Evelyn met her gaze, unyielding and emotionless. Once the paramedics left, the room fell silent, save for the faint hum of the heater. Christopher stood frozen by the door, his fists clenched at his sides. “You’re heartless,” he finally said, his voice trembling with rage. “I don’t even recognize you anymore.” Evelyn tilted her head, a faint, sardonic smile playing on her lips. “Heartless? Funny, coming from you. After all, I’m about to literally give her my heart.” Christopher froze, confusion flashing across his face. “What… what are you talking about?” Evelyn’s smile widened, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh, you didn’t know? Charlotte’s surgery tomorrow—the heart she’s waiting for? It’s mine.” His expression shifted from confusion to disbelief, then horror. “Stop joking, Evelyn. This isn’t funny.” “I’m not joking.” Her voice was ice. “Check with her doctor if you don’t believe me. The contract’s been signed, the preparations are done. Once she has my heart, you can live happily ever after with her. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” Christopher staggered back a step, his face pale. “Why… Why would you do this?” “Why not?” Evelyn’s tone was indifferent. “I’m tired, Christopher. Tired of fighting, tired of being hurt, tired of hoping for something that’s never going to happen. If my death can give someone else a chance at happiness, then so be it.” He stared at her, stunned, the weight of her words crashing down on him. For the first time, he saw the emptiness in her eyes, the scars she had hidden behind her quiet smiles and sharp words. “Evelyn…” he began, but she cut him off. “Don’t,” she said firmly, her gaze hardening. “Save your pity for someone who needs it. Go. Charlotte needs you.” Christopher hesitated, torn between staying and leaving, but the sound of the ambulance fading into the distance made his decision for him. He turned and walked out the door, leaving Evelyn alone once again. As the door clicked shut, Evelyn leaned back against the headboard, her hands trembling ever so slightly. She closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. In the quiet of the room, she whispered to herself, “It’s better this way.” But the silence that followed was deafening, pressing against her like an unbearable weight. For all her talk of being tired, of wanting to let go, the emptiness still hurt. And yet, she smiled—a bitter, hollow smile. Because this, too, was part of her truth. She had loved. She had lost. And now, she was ready to disappear.

Evelyn had once been a beacon of kindness and warmth—a girl who wore a tough exterior but had a heart too soft for this world. She would grumble about the stray cats near her house, calling them nuisances, yet secretly leave bowls of food by the gate. Once, when one of those stray cats died, she buried it under a tree, her eyes red and swollen from crying. She didn’t eat for a whole day afterward. How could someone who mourned a stray cat now stand indifferent, watching a living, breathing person suffer on the ground? Christopher’s mind swirled with questions and anger. Had he been the one to ruin her? Had his indulgence and tolerance turned Evelyn into this cold, reckless version of herself? His chest tightened as he gently laid Charlotte on the floor. Rising, he turned toward Evelyn, his expression dark and oppressive, his voice sharp as steel. “Tell me what happened,” he demanded, his tone brooking no argument. Evelyn looked up at him, her face devoid of emotion and then… she smiled. Not a warm or apologetic smile, but one cold enough to cut through the room like a blade. The sight made Christopher’s chest burn with fury. Before he could lash out, a weak voice broke through the tension. “Brother Christopher… don’t… don’t ask. It was my fault. I slipped…” Charlotte’s words were halting, her breath shallow. Her feeble attempt at an explanation only fanned the flames of Christopher’s anger. Charlotte was on the verge of death, yet she still defended Evelyn, who stood there with ice in her veins. It was too much. A firestorm of rage erupted within him, consuming every rational thought. With a swift motion, his hand rose and the sound of the slap echoed through the room. “Snap!” Evelyn stumbled, her head snapping to the side. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, but she didn’t cry out. Instead, a strange ringing filled her ears, sharp and relentless, as if something inside her had snapped. She reached up, touching her ear in confusion. Christopher’s voice, sharp and venomous, cut through the haze. “If anything happens to Charlotte, the wedding is off. Do you hear me? Off!” She heard the words—every syllable—but only in her left ear. Her right ear heard nothing but silence. Her hand trembled as she covered her left ear, testing her hearing. She played music on her phone, pressing it against her right ear. Silence. She was deaf in one ear. Evelyn froze, her fingers slowly dropping to her side. How much anger… how much hatred must Christopher have felt to strike her so hard that he robbed her of her hearing? For a moment, she stood there, dazed, until a bitter smile curled her lips. It doesn’t matter, she thought. Nothing matters anymore. Deaf? Fine. I wasn’t planning on staying alive much longer anyway. Without a word, she wiped the blood from her mouth and sat back on the bed. She picked up the book she’d been reading earlier, flipping through its pages as if nothing had happened. *** An hour later, the book lay finished on her nightstand. Evelyn changed her clothes, grabbed her coat and left the house. Her surgery was scheduled for the next morning—an operation she wasn’t sure she’d survive. Tonight was all she had left and she intended to use it to revisit the places that had once held meaning. On her way out, she sent Christopher a single text: [Goodbye.] He didn’t reply. Of course, he wouldn’t. He was probably at the hospital, pacing anxiously over Charlotte. As she trudged through the snow, Evelyn’s thoughts turned dark. For a fleeting moment, she wished Charlotte would die. If Charlotte were gone, there would be no need for the surgery tomorrow. But the bitterness subsided almost as quickly as it had come. Evelyn let out a dry, humorless laugh. No, it’s better if she survives. I’m the one who should be gone, after all. The pain in her legs made her stagger, but she kept moving, her footsteps slow and deliberate. Snowflakes fell gently around her, blanketing the city in silence. *** She passed the movie theater where she and Christopher had gone on their first date. They had sat in the back row, sneaking popcorn and whispering jokes during the previews. Now, the theater was dark, the doors locked and a closed sign hung in the window. Evelyn lingered there for half an hour, lost in the memories, before moving on. Her feet carried her to her father’s house, where the lights were still on despite the late hour. It was past one in the morning and yet… The sight of the warm light stirred something in her chest—a pang of guilt, a sliver of regret. She pulled out her phone, her thumb hovering over the call button. But then she stopped. It was late. She didn’t want to wake him. Instead, she sent a single text message to both her parents: [Let’s be a family next time.] She stared at the message for a long time before hitting send. *** The city was quiet, the streets empty, as Evelyn wandered aimlessly through the night. Snow crunched beneath her boots, her breath forming pale clouds in the frigid air. As the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, she found herself back at the bridge overlooking the frozen river. She leaned against the railing, watching as the sky shifted from gray to pink. The world felt still, suspended in that moment between night and day. Evelyn closed her eyes, letting the cold seep into her skin. For the first time in a long while, she felt a sense of peace. Tomorrow would come. Or maybe it wouldn’t. Either way, she was ready. Evelyn walked through the quiet streets, her steps slow and measured. The cold bit into her skin, but she didn’t mind. She paused as she passed her father’s house. The lights were still on. She remembered his habit of staying up late, probably helping her half-siblings with their studies. It reminded her of the times when he had stayed up for her too—once upon a time. But those memories felt distant now, like they belonged to another lifetime. With a faint smile, she kept walking. This time, she headed toward her mother’s house. The house was dark, its windows shadowed against the pale glow of dawn. But even in the dim light, Evelyn could make out the white curtains that adorned her mother’s windows. Her smile widened, bittersweet and filled with a strange warmth. Her mother had always wanted white curtains, but her father had vetoed the idea. “They’ll get dirty too quickly,” he had said. “You’ll have a hard time cleaning them.” Back then, Evelyn hadn’t thought much of it. Her father always seemed so concerned for her mother’s well-being. But now, standing here, she saw it differently. Why hadn’t her father offered to clean them himself? Why had it always been her mother’s burden to bear? But now, at least, her mother was free. She had her white curtains and Evelyn was certain there was someone in her life willing to help keep them clean. Evelyn touched her ears absentmindedly, then turned her back on the house. “Goodbye, Mom. Goodbye, Dad,” she whispered under her breath. And then, as her steps took her further away, she added softly, “Goodbye, Christopher.”