Chapter 1

The ping of the phone on the nightstand wasn't just a notification; it was a second heartbeat bringing me to life in the middle of a house that felt like a coffin. The screen lit up, displaying the name 'My Love Kent.' Instantly, the remnants of exhaustion from a whole day of wrestling with a stack of calculus books evaporated. My lips curved, forming a slight smile that belonged only to him.

"Hi, honey," I whispered softly. My voice caught, a mix of longing and the fear that always haunted my every move here. My eyes darted around, scanning the slight crack of the open bedroom door. I had to make sure Mom's footsteps weren't approaching. If Mom knew I was talking to Kent, the walls of this house would collapse on me.

"Hi, honey," he replied. That baritone voice—calm, low, and capable of tearing down my defenses in a matter of seconds. "Are you home? I... I can't help myself anymore. I need to see you, right now."

"I'm home," I answered, my breathing growing heavy. My eyes were still locked on the shadow behind the door, making sure the hallway remained quiet. "Wait for me. I'll be right there. I love you."

"I love you too."

The call disconnected. I tossed the phone onto the bed as if it burned my hand. I turned around, my gaze landing on the desk filled with a row of acrylic trophies. Those objects stood in a rigid line, gleaming arrogantly on the desk. '1st Place Math Competition,' 'Outstanding Student,' 'Gold Certificate.' The name 'Jose Waston' was sharply engraved there, a token Dad always bragged about at every family event.

I used to view those trophies as proof of achievement. Now, they felt like a pair of eyes constantly watching and demanding perfection. I hated how shiny they were. I turned my face away, feeling sick to my stomach as the glare caught the light. How would they react if they knew that behind the 'golden boy' label I wore, I kept a secret that to them was a major sin?

A knock at the front door broke my daydream. The sound was low, warm, and deeply familiar. Without worrying about the phone left behind, I rushed out.

"Jos! Please get the door!" Mom yelled from the kitchen, her voice competing with the thud of the knife on the cutting board.

"Okay, Mom!" I called back, trying to steady my racing heart.

I opened the door. Kent stood there. His broad shoulders seemed to swallow up the entire space in the doorway. We locked eyes in a heavy silence. There was an invisible magnetic pull, catching my breath in my throat. I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the feeling of fear slowly creeping up to the surface of my skin.

"Who is it, Jos?" Mom asked, her footsteps drawing closer.

"A college friend, Mom," I answered quickly, a bit too stiffly. I turned toward the hallway and whispered, "Let's just go to my room."

As soon as the bedroom door closed and locked, a pair of arms wrapped around my waist from behind. Kent's warm breath on my neck made me close my eyes. "Congratulations, honey," he whispered hoarsely. "The graduation finish line is right ahead."

I leaned against him, letting myself fall apart for a moment. My hands squeezed his hands curled over my stomach. The scent of soap and the lingering trace of masculine sweat from him filled the room, wrapping our fears in a fragile bubble of privacy. Our heartbeats slowly synchronized, in rhythm with the suffocating silence.

Suddenly, the sound of the doorknob being harshly forced open made us flinch. The door swung wide open, and there Mom stood with a gaze that could strip away the soul. My heart seemed to stop beating, then jumped into my throat. My entire body went rigid, losing all control.

"What are you doing?" The voice was cold, sharp, and deadly. I jumped away from Kent, breaking physical contact as if we had been electrocuted. Kent moved quickly, covering his shock with a slight, forced smile.

"Auntie! Jose choked!" Kent blurted out spontaneously.

I responded immediately. My hand clutched my chest, my throat letting out a harsh, painful fake cough. My face turned red, not from choking, but from the exploding adrenaline. This act felt incredibly real, incredibly sickening, and at the same time, the only way to save ourselves.

Mom looked back and forth between us, her brow furrowing. After a pause that felt like long hours, she delivered a sharp warning, "Don't try anything funny in here." The door slammed shut, leaving an echo that vibrated through the bedroom walls.

Our breath came in gasps. We slid down to the floor, sitting amidst the dust and the lingering horror that still clung to us. The soft laughter that escaped our lips sounded bizarre, bitter, and full of despair. I glanced at the mirror; my face was pale as a ghost, cold sweat drenching my temples. Kent stood up, looking at me with a gaze that implied an inevitable goodbye.

"I have to go home. See you tomorrow," he whispered.

I hugged him one more time, tighter than before, as if wanting to draw out the essence of his warmth so I could survive in this suffocating house. "I love you," I whispered, a promise wrapped in fear.

"I love you too."

He disappeared behind the door, leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne that slowly faded away.

7:15 PM. The phone showed the time as Dad walked in, dropping his briefcase with slumping shoulders, bringing the weight of the world into the house. "Go take a shower first, honey," Mom greeted from the dining room. Her voice was sweet, as if the incident just now had never happened.

I sat in the living room, my fingers moving nimbly across the screen, sending a quick text to make sure Kent was safe. However, my peace was disrupted by Mei, my younger sister, who approached with a whining face.

"Bro, let me borrow your phone," she begged while tugging at my sleeve. "My battery is almost dead, Mei," I answered quickly, perhaps too sharply, causing her to flinch. "Ugh, so stingy. I just want to send a quick text." "I'm working on an assignment too," I said, forcing a flat tone. "Go try borrowing Yael's in his room."

Mei huffed and walked away with a resentful stomp of her feet. I let out a long sigh, quelling the shaking in my hands. Every interaction in this house now felt like walking a tightrope over a deep canyon. One wrong step, and it would all be over.

The clinking sound of plates from the dining table called to me. I stood up, straightened my clothes, and walked toward the dining table. There, under the bright, glaring lights, I would put the mask of the perfect child back on, unaware that tonight might be the last night I could keep up this act.