Chapter 1

Eliza's POV

I looked at Dorian Keller one last time.

Then I stood and walked away.

"Eliza is still as difficult as ever. This is all your fault. I told you I didn't want to come tonight. Now I look ridiculous..."

Arabella Crane's spoiled voice floated after me exactly the way it had years ago.

Apparently her family's collapse hadn't changed her much.

I glanced back despite myself.

Dorian had bent down and pulled her protectively into his arms, murmuring something to calm her.

At exactly ten that night, he came home.

He didn't even take off his coat before speaking.

"You should apologize to Arabella tomorrow.

"She cried after you left."

He looked at me with disappointment.

"Eliza, you're not a kid anymore. Arabella wasn't the only person there. We had friends around us. You can't think only about your own feelings all the time. It was rude."

Maybe I hadn't slept enough the night before. My heart was beating so fast it made me uncomfortable.

He went on.

"It was just a bowl of pomegranate. If you wanted some, couldn't you peel it yourself?"

That sentence dragged me back to our first year together.

I had once carried a plate of mangoes to him and asked him to cut them for me.

Dorian had frowned immediately.

"I hate unnecessary work. If something takes that much effort to eat, I'd rather not eat it. And don't expect me to peel or cut it for you."

Back then, I thought his hatred of inconvenience applied to everyone.

Apparently there were exceptions.

I just wasn't one of them.

"You were all kids back then," he continued. "None of that should be taken so seriously. It's time you moved on. Holding on to it only hurts you and everyone else.

"Besides, her family is bankrupt now. Isn't that punishment enough?"

He'd been home for five minutes—three hundred seconds.

Every sentence had been about defending Arabella, even though I had barely spoken.

I stared at him, my eyes growing redder and redder.

Like the pomegranate seeds, they spilled over before I could stop them.

Dorian sighed, looking exhausted.

"There you go again. I'm trying to talk to you calmly. Why are you crying?

"Eliza, when you act like this, it wears me out."

He took off his coat and dropped it over the back of the couch.

I breathed deeply until the trembling in my body eased.

"So you still think this is about a bowl of pomegranate?"

His brow tightened almost instinctively, impatience flashing across his face.

That expression broke the last thread of restraint I had left.

My ears rang.

For a moment, I was back in that summer.

"Eliza Hartwell, you were born pathetic. Why don't you just disappear?"

I had never understood how somebody's cruelty could begin over something so stupid.

On the first day of high school, Arabella and I happened to wear the same color.

We weren't even wearing the same outfit.

That was all it took for me to become the rich girl's favorite plaything.

And whenever Arabella came after me, Dorian used to step between us.

Again and again, he patiently pulled me out of it.

I thought he would always stand on my side.

Dorian reached for a tissue and carefully wiped the tears from my face.

"All right. We only have twenty minutes left. If you keep crying, we're going to run out of time."