Chapter 1

Before I could say a single word, Jose Hanson took Rachel Thorne by the hand and led her downstairs.

Hearing the commotion, my mom, Madeleine Pearson, walked over, but she was a second too late and missed their intimate departure. She looked at me with concern and asked, "Did you and Jose fight?"

I instinctively denied it, and she let out a relieved sigh.

"Good. That poor kid has had such a tough life. He worked so hard to get into a great college, only for all of this to happen… Don't throw a childish fit with him."

For a time, I didn't know whether to feel devastated or amused.

Mom had brought Jose home from the orphanage when he was five and raised him as if he were her own biological son.

As the chief of hematology at Aurelian Hospital, she was often so busy that she would stay the night at the hospital and sometimes forget to pick me up from school. But she was never late to pick up Jose. Not even once.

Whenever I got upset with her for playing favorites, she would crouch down, apologize, and gently explain that she was afraid even a moment's delay would make Jose feel abandoned all over again.

"By the way, sweetheart, think carefully about it again," Mom added. "Don't go into medicine on a whim just for Jose's sake."

I froze, and a delayed wave of heartache washed over my chest.

Jose only knew that after graduating from high school, I had suddenly become obsessed with going to medical school. What he didn't know was that I loathed hospitals.

I had resolutely pursued medicine after seeing Jose's medical report. But the moment he mistakenly thought I was the sick one, he abandoned me without a second thought and even wished death upon me.

As the thought crossed my mind, I said, "I'm not going to medical school anymore, Mom. You're right. It was an impulsive decision and not worth it."

The second the words left my mouth, my phone rang. The caller ID showed a loving nickname, but Jose's voice over the line was cold.

"Did you make things clear with Madeleine? Once you have, remember to mail the stuff in my room to me. I'm renting a place with Rachel."

I found it almost laughable. "And what if I refuse?"

"Then throw it out. Do whatever you want."

After the line went dead, I immediately received a text containing a shipping address.

I looked at Jose's profile picture on WhatsApp. He had changed it to a photo of a black kitten, which I found quite familiar.

As I scrolled further downward, I saw Rachel's profile picture of a white kitten she had been using for three years.

Putting my phone away with a sigh, I walked into Jose's room.

Honestly, his phone call was unnecessary. I had planned to secretly throw everything in his room away, even if he hadn't said anything.

From this day onward, I would pretend that Jose was never my ex-boyfriend and that Mom had never adopted him.

I was the one who had personally chosen the paint color for Jose's room and selected every piece of furniture. Back then, Mom had joked that I was too controlling, but Jose had smiled and said that since he was mine anyway, it didn't matter at all.

Now, standing in the room I knew like the back of my hand, I had to take a deep breath to pull myself away from the memories before packing his books and figurines into cardboard boxes.

As I reached into the back of the desk drawer, I found a small, dusty wooden box. It wasn't Jose's style at all.

I opened it and froze.

The handwriting on the notes was both foreign and familiar. Some notes were apologies and others were attempts to make me laugh, but every single one of them began with carefully written words, "To Vicky".