Chapter 1

"Jessica, HQ just sent out a notice. They want to send you to Paris for advanced training. In six months, you'll be competing in the Global Fashion Designers' Competition. You’d have to leave in a week. Do you want to go? It’s totally up to you. After all, your wedding with Jack is on the same day. Marriage is a big deal—it should come first."

Jessica had just stepped out of the bathroom, her face pale and drained. The moment she sat down in her dull grey and white room, her phone rang. It was Kelly Winfrey, her boss.

She didn't respond immediately. Through the receiver, she could hear Kelly's steady breathing, waiting.

Just as Kelly was about to give up and consider another candidate, Jessica spoke. "I'll go. As for my wedding with Jack, I'll take care of it in the next few days."

"Wait…" Kelly hadn't expected her to agree. She hesitated for a moment, then failed to hide the excitement creeping into her voice. "You're really going?"

Jessica's gaze drifted toward the group not far from her—people gathered around, singing birthday songs, sharing cake, their laughter filling the air.

She swallowed down the bitterness rising in her chest. When she spoke again, her voice was steady. "Yes. I'll handle everything within these seven days. Tell HQ not to worry."

Then, she hung up.

Some things needed to end.

The intrusive hum of the music from the speakers grew louder, making her head throb. She turned to head back to her bedroom, but before she could take a step, Abby approached, carrying a plate of cake.

She smiled warmly. "Jess, have some of my birthday cake. Mom and Dad bought it just for me. Wasn't your birthday yesterday? They never buy cakes for you, do they? You can have mine."

Jessica's face darkened. Her voice turned cold.

"I don't want it. It's your cake, you eat it. I'm going to my room."

She stepped past Abby, wanting nothing more than to leave.

But in the next instant, Abby let out a strange little smile.

Then—without warning—she smashed the cake into her own face.

With a sharp gasp, she stumbled backward, knocking into the coffee table. Glasses and cups crashed to the floor, shattering upon impact. Shards of glass scattered everywhere, some piercing her hands.

The cake, now a mess of cream and crumbs, lay in ruins on the ground.

Tears welled up in her eyes. "Jess… why… why did you push me?"

Everything happened too fast. Before Jessica could react, the others had already rushed over.

Their father pulled Abby to her feet, his face contorted with worry as he took in her wounds. "Jessica! What do you think you're doing? Abby was kind enough to bring you some cake, and this is how you treat her? You ungrateful, heartless wretch!"

Their mother didn't even pause to question. "You… You always do this! Don't you know Abby is weak? You should be taking care of her! Look at her—there's glass in her hands! She has asthma, too. The doctor said we have to keep her from getting upset, but you never learn!"

Asthma?

Jessica lowered her gaze.

Nobody knew she only had a year left to live, but what did it matter now?

Just then, Jack entered the scene, carrying the family's medicine box. He walked straight past Jessica, then lifted Abby and placed her gently on the couch—right in front of his fiancée.

His eyes bore into Jessica, filled with disappointment.

"Jessica," he said, "when I first met you, I never knew you were this petty. Apologize to Abby so we can be done with this and move on."

Jessica said nothing. She lowered her head and swallowed the tears that threatened to rise.

Only when she was sure her voice wouldn't shake did she finally reply, "I didn't push her. I don't apologize for things I didn't do."

Her mother scoffed. "If you didn't push her, who did? Are you suggesting Abby threw herself into the table? You're useless, lazy, and now, a liar too?"

She grabbed Jessica's wrist, her grip tight and punishing. "Apologize to Abby!"

Jessica wrenched her hand free, thinking why should she apologize for something she didn't do.

Abby let out a small, pitiful sob, her shoulders trembling as she gasped for air. Her breathing grew uneven.

Their mother hurried to soothe her, patting her back, while Jack handed her a glass of water.

And then, just as if she were truly drowning in guilt, Abby spoke.

"It's my fault," she whimpered. "I shouldn't have shared my cake with Jess. I didn't mean to upset her… I'm sorry, Jess. Will you forgive me?"

Then—without hesitation—she raised her hand and slapped herself across the face.