Chapter 2

The smell of cooking oil drifted from the kitchen into the living room. In the end, Emily was the one who brought the fish to the table.

I sat in the farthest corner. It was getting harder and harder for me to breathe. I could only take small, shallow breaths.

The herbicide had already begun destroying my lungs. Every inhale felt like swallowing a thousand steel needles.

Meanwhile, the rest of the family sat around the table, happily celebrating the prank video breaking 100,000 likes. Elliot stared at his phone, grinning so hard he forgot to even eat.

"Dad, I've got a sponsor! The prank video is blowing up. An advertiser just reached out."

Dad beamed with pride and placed a big slice of fish onto Elliot's plate.

"I knew our Elliot had talent, unlike certain people who can't even take a joke," he said, not even bothering to hide his disdain for me.

Diane raised her wine glass toward Emily. "Emily, that shove you gave Harry was worthy of an award. Netizens are tearing you apart, calling you a terrible girlfriend."

Emily took a sip of wine, completely unfazed. "Let them talk. Bad publicity is still publicity. If it helps Elliot's video go viral, a little criticism is nothing."

She sounded so noble and selfless. I watched her quietly.

Seven years ago, her startup had failed, leaving her buried in debt. I worked three jobs a day to help pay it off.

I still remembered the day her debt was finally cleared. She held me and cried like a child. She promised that nothing would ever come between us.

Yet, tonight, when there seemed to be a knife at my throat, she had been the first person to push me toward it.

"Harry, what are you staring at?"

Elliot suddenly shoved his phone in my face. Displayed on the screen was an electronic media release form.

"The video is going viral. Everyone who appeared on camera has to sign a media release form. Hurry up and sign it."

I lowered my gaze to the dense wall of text. My vision was already beginning to blur. The toxin was spreading through my bloodstream, creeping toward my nervous system.

I picked up the stylus, my hand shaking so violently that I could barely hold it.

Elliot clicked his tongue impatiently.

"Are you serious? It's just a signature. Why is your hand shaking so much? I'm warning you, if this sponsorship falls through, you're paying the penalty."

I took a deep breath. My chest wheezed like torn fabric. Gripping the stylus tightly, I scribbled my name across the screen in a crooked line.

Satisfied, Elliot pulled the phone back. "Good," he said.

Emily placed a bony piece of fish onto my plate.

"Harry, eat. Then apologize to everyone, and we'll forget tonight ever happened."

I stared at the piece of fish. Ever since I was a kid, whenever we had fish, Diane and Elliot always got the best cuts. All I ever got was the tail or the head.

"Why should I apologize?" I looked up and fixed my eyes on Emily.

For a moment, she was stunned. Then her brows knitted together tightly.

"Are you not done? The whole family is trying to enjoy the holiday, and you're sitting there sulking. Elliot was only trying to liven things up. As his older brother, can't you show a little understanding?"

The metallic taste rising up my throat could no longer be suppressed. I abruptly turned away. A mouthful of dark, bloody vomit splashed into the trash can beside me.

The table fell silent, but only for a second. Then Dad slammed his fork down on the table.

"Harry, where are your manners? We're in the middle of dinner, and you decide now is the time to throw up?"

Diane pinched her nose in disgust. "Seriously? If you don't want to eat, just say so. Pulling something this gross for attention is a new low, even for you."

Emily grabbed a handful of tissues and threw them at me.

"Go clean yourself up in the bathroom. When did you become so unreasonable?"

No one even asked why I was vomiting. In their eyes, even my sickness was just another performance for sympathy.

Slowly, I pushed myself upright using the edge of the table. My legs felt like they were filled with lead. I grabbed the tissues and wiped the corner of my mouth.

"Fine. I'll go."

I turned and dragged myself toward the bathroom. Behind me, the laughter at the dinner table soon resumed.