Chapter 2

Rosalie frowned and pulled me into the car without saying a single word.

The car had a new air freshener, and the cloying scent made me cough. Only then did Rosalie notice, and she thoughtfully rolled the window down. "It's a little strong, but Dorian has good taste."

I glanced at the packaging. It was exactly the same as the birthday present I gave her six months ago. Back then, she gave me a quick thank-you and tossed it aside, then turned around and complained to her friends that my taste these days wasn't good enough for someone of her status.

Yet, she was also the one who got down on her knees in front of her father when Mom cheated on Dad, teamed up with her lover to short our company, and threw us both out of the house. She swore she'd never look down on me and would never marry anyone but me.

I calmly looked away.

Rosalie parked in front of a pharmacy and pulled me over to the shelves. I was about to remind her that we had plenty of cold medicine at home when she asked earnestly, "Gideon, what do you usually take to knock out a cold fast? Dorian's got a bit of a cough."

I froze, my fingers curling into a fist.

My mind went back to the day we first met, when I passed out with a high fever. Everyone around me kept their distance. Then the new transfer student helped me up without saying a single word and handed me her box of medicine with a smile.

"I just got this from the school nurse. Hurry up and take it before the fever fries your brain."

From then on, whenever I got sick, Rosalie always found a way to be by my side, sometimes by chance and sometimes on purpose. Just so she could hand me a bottle of warm milk without anyone thinking twice, she bought drinks for the whole class on the same day every month.

As her face slowly blended with the girl in my memory, my eyes began to sting. I didn't snap out of it until Rosalie's voice sounded beside me. "What's wrong?"

I tipped my head back, wiped the corner of my eye, and grabbed a few boxes. "These."

Rosalie waved to the clerk. "Ten boxes of each of these. Load them into the car."

Once the trunk and back seat were packed full, she turned to me without a second thought. "Gideon, just grab a cab home."

Then she sped off.

Before long, Dorian's Instagram lit up. In the photo, Rosalie had her head down and was carefully washing a pair of men's underwear by hand. His caption read, "I'm so glad you're by my side when I'm at my weakest."

The comments went wild. "Gotta hand it to you, man, you really know how to tame a woman. Ms. Kerr's never done her own laundry in her life!"

A wave of nausea rose in my chest, and I started dry heaving. Sheet after sheet soaked in sticky fluids flashed through my mind.

For every sheet I washed, I got paid 100 thousand dollars, just enough to cover a week of Dad's medical bills. Rosalie always kept her distance, because she was a severe germaphobe and found it disgusting.

But now, the same Rosalie who never lifted a finger her whole life was washing Dorian's underwear with her own hands.

My heart, which I thought had gone completely numb, began to ache again in dull, relentless waves.

Just as I was struggling to breathe, Rosalie did something she hadn't done in ages and texted to let me know where she'd be. "Gideon, I've got a work dinner tonight. I won't be home."

When I scrolled up, the thread was nothing but me talking to myself. I'd sent over a thousand messages and gotten no more than ten replies. It had also been three years since she checked in with me on her own.

I didn't reply. Instead, I took a cab to the funeral home.

It had been seven days since Dad died. After the memorial service, I collected his ashes. Soon, I'd be able to take him to Marivelle, the city he always dreamed of seeing.

As I walked out of the funeral home, dazzling fireworks burst across the sky above the city, and countless drones traced the outline of a man.

Dorian updated his Instagram again. Under the drone show, the two of them were locked in a passionate kiss. He wrote, "Happy ten days together!"

Rosalie, who rarely used social media, posted a photo of Dorian and made it the only pinned post on her profile. Almost instantly, my comments were flooded with mocking remarks.

"He's just putting up with this? Is Ms. Kerr's husband a doormat or what?"

"Just step aside already! Dorian and Ms. Kerr are way better together!"

"Quit dunking on him. For all we know, he's into even kinkier stuff!"

...

I calmly turned off my comments and ignored them. But the moment I got home, someone slapped me across the face.