Chapter 2

It was pouring when the train pulled into South Station in Boston.

With their new positions in New York, Sophie and Adrian were the center of attention. The brand's PR team was already waiting outside the station to shoot a homecoming announcement about the "emerging design duo." Adrian carried Sophie's bag in one hand and wheeled her suitcase with the other, attentive every step of the way.

At my feet sat two oversized portfolio cases holding three years' worth of samples, pattern drafts, and tools. He wheeled his own suitcase over to me as well. "Keep an eye on this. I'm going to shoot with Sophie. I'll be back in a minute."

The rain grew heavier. I dragged both cases out to the front of the station. I'd barely found my footing when the PR rep told the driver to leave, saying all four seats were taken.

Adrian glanced at the cases at my feet and pushed them back inside the glass doors. "You have too much stuff. It'll take up too much room. Get an Uber. It'll be easier."

"You just said you'd wait for me at the corner."

"The rain's too heavy, and the press is on a schedule." He spoke quickly. "Get your things together. We'll meet up later."

He opened the door and helped Sophie in first. My parents were already in the back seat. Adrian's family got into the other car. The PR rep held an umbrella and hurried them along. "We have to go. There's no time."

Adrian waved at me. "See you at home." The door shut. The black SUV pulled away into the rain and was gone.

I stood there alone in the rain, one hand gripping a case handle. I felt hollow.

Ten minutes later, the truth sank in: they weren't going to wait for me. I called Adrian. No answer. My mother didn't pick up either. On the fifth try, my father answered.

"Elena?"

There was noise in the background. I could hear Sophie and the PR rep laughing.

"Where are you?"

Two seconds of silence. "You didn't get in the car?"

I wasn't angry. I was numb. My mother took the phone from him. "How did you miss the car? Wasn't Adrian with you?"

"He got in."

"Then call a car yourself. We're already on the highway. It's pouring. Don't just stand there at the curb."

She hung up. Not one word about whether I was all right.

It was rush hour in the rain, and Uber fares had surged to three times the usual rate. Driver after driver canceled on me. I huddled under the shelter with my arms around the cases as the rain blew in sideways, soaking my hem and shoes until I shook with cold. Eventually, a cab driver pulled over and got out to help me with the cases.

"Careful. Water's bad for what's in there, isn't it?"

"Yes. It's all my work."

He found an old blanket and draped it over the cases. Once we were on the road, he looked at me in the rearview mirror. "Where's your family, sweetheart? Why are they letting you haul all this through the rain by yourself?"

I opened my mouth, but all I could manage was, "They went on ahead."

He didn't ask again. But one offhand question from a stranger was enough to undo me. My eyes began to sting.

On the way home, I came across my father's post. A group photo. My parents, Sophie, and Adrian stood side by side in front of the brand's car, all of them smiling. Sophie held an armful of white peonies. The caption read: [So proud of our girl. New York, here we come.]

I wasn't in the photo.

When I arrived with my soaked cases, the warm house felt like a different world from the rain outside. The coffee table was covered with New York apartment listings and welcome boxes from the brand. Sophie sat on the rug with a tablet while my mother helped her choose a neighborhood. Adrian cut her a slice of cheesecake and handed it over. "You've been running around all day, and you barely ate lunch. Have something sweet, sweetheart."

My father took one look at me and frowned. "How did you end up like that? You're a mess."

I pushed the cases into a corner. Sophie got up at once. "Elena, I'm sorry. I thought you'd have no trouble getting a car home."

"It's fine."

My father's expression hardened. "Sophie has been through one interview after another today, and she's exhausted. Don't start sulking and giving us the cold shoulder."

I took off my wet coat, went upstairs, and shut myself away from the warmth downstairs.

That night, I came down with a fever. I burned and shivered at the same time, my head foggy and aching. I lay in bed staring at my dark phone screen, some small part of me still clinging to hope. Then an account notification appeared: the card linked to the family account had been frozen.

Then a message from my mother.

[You were in a terrible mood today, and you acted selfishly.]

[I've frozen the card linked to the family account for now. When you learn not to bring your bad moods home with you, I'll reactivate it. Your career is going well anyway, so this money can't matter that much to you.]

I read her message for a long time, and the last bit of warmth inside me went out.

All my life, whenever Sophie and I clashed, my family told me the same thing: I had parents who loved me and plenty of resources, so I should give in. Sophie had a difficult start in life, so she needed more. I was the one who had everything, so I had to be sensible and step back. And I always did.

But there I was, burning up, and no one knocked on my door. Not once.

I finally understood. When they said, "You have so much," what they really meant was that they were certain I'd never leave.

I put the phone face down on the nightstand and, for the first time, seriously planned how I would get to San Francisco without any of their help.