Chapter 2

Logan's POV

I immediately got off at the next station and took the subway back.

There, Liam was surrounded by my family on a bench on the platform. Mom held him in her arms, gently patting his back, while Dad stood on the other side, holding his hand.

Ava knelt before him, guiding him to breathe slowly. "It's okay. I'm right here with you. Look at me. Slow breaths."

Liam was crying so hard he could barely catch his breath, his fingers still clutching Ava's sleeve. She let him hold on without so much as frowning.

I stood a few feet away and watched them for a long time.

When Mom saw me, she yelled, "I thought you wouldn't come back! You knew Liam couldn't be without you, so why did you get on the train first?"

I pressed my lips together. "He pushed me."

The moment I said that, tears rolled down Liam's cheeks. "Logan, why would you lie about that? Were you upset because I wanted to go out? Was that why you deliberately shook me off?"

Ava looked up at me, her face stormy with anger.

"Liam had a panic disorderbecause of you. He could barely breathe. Instead of worrying about him, you accused him and tried to shift the blame. What happened to you, Logan?"

My eyes reddened. "I did not!"

"Enough!" Dad snapped at me. "Now is not the time to nitpick over every little thing!"

There it was again. Whatever Liam did was right, while I was wrong for even trying to defend myself.

I braced myself against the wall, my vision darkening in waves. I hadn't eaten a single thing since last night. My voice came out huskily. "I don't feel so well."

Ava frowned and reached out to steady me, but Liam suddenly hyperventilated and collapsed into her arms. "Ava, I can't breathe."

She immediately turned back to him and held him tightly. "Take it slow. I'm right here."

Mom looked worried. "Let's just go home for now. It's too crowded here. Liam will only feel suffocated."

They surrounded him and escorted him out.

Ava held him close, using her body to shield him from the crowd. Dad carried his bag and walked on his other side. Mom went ahead, looking back every few steps with a worried expression.

Not one of them spared me a glance. I wanted to follow, but my legs were growing weaker by the second. Just as I was about to collapse, a young woman held me in place.

"Are you okay? Is your blood sugar low?" she asked, genuinely concerned, and pressed a piece of chocolate into my hand.

I tore open the wrapper and put it in my mouth. Bitterness spread across my tongue. My vision was still blurry, and it took a long time before I managed to whisper a thank-you.

By the time I got home, Mom was talking to the workers installing something in the living room. "Yeah. That room."

She was pointing at my bedroom.

"Mom, what are they installing?"

She didn't even look up. "Cameras."

Her tone was casual. "Liam had two attacks over the last 24 hours because he couldn't see you. We're putting up cameras so he can check on you whenever he wants."

I looked over. There were two cameras, one installed in each corner of my room.

As the workers adjusted the camera angles, one of them muttered under his breath, "Are you keeping an eye on a prisoner or your son? It covers every damn corner."

Mom was unamused. "Excuse me? We're doing this to save our other son's life."

Liam sat on the couch, practically beaming as he hugged the tablet. The screen displayed every corner of my bedroom like an exhibition.

Ava came over and stood beside me. "It's just a couple of cameras. They won't affect your life. We'll take them down once Liam gets better. Give him a break. He's just sick."

I opened my mouth, not knowing where to start. They seemed to have forgotten that Liam had never once gone back for a follow-up appointment for his panic disorder.

His first attack happened the year we took our high school entrance exams. I had gotten into one of the top high schools in the city. The moment Liam heard the news, he had a panic disorder and collapsed on the floor, gasping for air.

The doctor initially suspected panic disorder and recommended a thorough evaluation and treatment, but Liam said I was his medicine. As long as I didn't leave him, he would be fine.

So, I gave up my place at the top high school and went to the same ordinary high school as him.

Then came the SATs. I earned the perfect score. I could've gone to the Wellington Institute of Fine Arts, but Liam had another attack. Crying, he said he couldn't bear to be separated from me.

So, I was forced to attend the same community college as him.

Since then, I had to bring Liam along whenever I had a hangout with friends or a date. Even the graduation trip Ava and I had planned had to be booked for three people instead of two.

Everyone insisted that I wait, that I be patient and put up with him. I had done just that, yet after seven years, he only became more demanding.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was an email from the design firm in Pronce, asking if I could still start on the originally agreed date.

Six months ago, I won an award at a national design competition. One of the judges, a renowned designer, was impressed by my work and invited me to join the firm several times.

But with Liam's countless attacks, I hesitated.

I looked up at the camera, its red indicator light blinking. Then, I lowered my head and replied to the email, "I will be there on time."

Then, I booked the earliest flight to Villerose three days from now.