Chapter 3

I wiped my lips instinctively. The crowd that lived for the drama was still stirring things up, and I could feel several stinging stares land on me.

A wave of fatigue washed over me. My stomach, which had been aching all night, lurched suddenly. Nausea hit me fast, and I stood, covering my mouth as I nudged aside the leg blocking the exit and bolted toward the restroom.

As I rushed out, dead silence descended upon the private room, but I didn't care. I'd never run this fast in my life.

Still, when I reached the sink, nothing came up. After a bout of dry heaving, I started coughing. It was the kind of cough that made it feel like my lungs were about to be ripped out of my chest. It was unbearable.

Eventually, I braced myself against the counter. I stared at the bloodstains in the sink, my vision darkening. After a moment, I looked at my haggard reflection in the mirror, finally feeling like someone on the verge of death.

Slowly, my complexion would grow paler and my face would become gaunter. I'd waste away beyond recognition, my hair falling out completely. I'd lie in bed, unable to care for myself, and finally die in the most hideous form possible.

I splashed some water on my face to sober myself up. I then touched up my makeup and sashayed back into the private room in my heels.

Everyone was staring at me when I returned, including Sean.

I smiled. "Sorry, I felt a little queasy earlier. Carry on, guys. Don't mind me."

Sean's expression darkened. I knew this was the prelude to him losing his temper, but I walked over to him regardless, oblivious to everyone else around me.

As soon as I sat down, however, someone yanked me up again.

Sean and I had been acting lovey-dovey when we got out of the car earlier. Now, we sat on opposite sides of the car, not speaking. The air felt like it was frozen solid.

"What the hell are you playing at?"

I blinked innocently. "I'm not."

Sean clearly had no patience for my games. I'd already provoked him several times that day, and I could see the unchecked anger in his eyes.

"Cassandra." He looked at me as he enunciated each word clearly. "Don't push it."

Was that it?

I couldn't help but giggle.

"Behave yourself and don't make me mad," he said.

I stared at him blankly. I could see my own reflection staring back at me in his eyes. He clearly didn't care for me that much, yet he insisted on putting on such a show of deep affection.

"Sean."

I looked like a mechanical doll, emotionless and worn out. I felt utterly exhausted, so much so that I no longer had the energy to keep up this charade.

"Let's break up."

The autumn wind was howling when he dumped me by the roadside. I shivered in the cold, slightly regretting my decision. I should have waited until we'd reached our destination.

The streets were deserted at this hour. Perhaps the alcohol had overtaken me, but I didn't feel like hailing a cab. I slipped off my high heels and walked barefoot on the ground.

The instant my feet touched the ground, a chill shot through me, followed by a surge of unprecedented clarity and exhilaration.

I skipped along the road. I knew Sean was trailing behind me in the car, waiting for me to give in.

Looking back, the past 24 years of my life seemed to have been stitched together by countless acts of submission and retreat. It was truly pathetic!

I marched on like that for the next two hours, walking ahead until both my feet became numb.

When I reached the building, I tossed my shoes aside, turned back, and waved goodbye to the car.