Chapter 6

Lily's POV

I clutched my soaking-wet bag to my chest and crouched beneath the eaves as I called a locksmith. Huddled in the corner, I looked like an abandoned stray cat.

The locksmith arrived on his electric scooter in the rain, also soaked to the bone. He glanced at the lock and said bluntly, "200 dollars."

I emptied my pockets and pulled out crumpled five- and ten-dollar bills, all damp from the rain. I spread them across my palm.

I counted them again and again, but I was still far short. "Sir, could you… charge me a little less?"

The locksmith took out his tools, sounding impatient. "I hate dealing with people like you. You live in a fancy villa, and you can't even scrape together 200 dollars?"

I didn't say anything. I simply lowered my head even further. I really couldn't afford it.

If it were Rose, she probably wouldn't have ended up in such a sorry state. She got 200 dollars in pocket money every month, while I had to save up every single dollar.

The lock cylinder turned a few times before it clicked open.

The locksmith straightened up. As he packed up his tools, he asked casually, "Why are you home alone? Where's your family?"

"They went on a trip," I replied, lowering my voice. "They forgot I was still outside."

He closed his toolbox and dusted off his hands. "Alright, this one's on the house."

I froze at his words. "No, you should let me pay you."

"For someone in my line of work, picking a lock is nothing," he explained.

Seeing how distressed I was, he closed the door and quickly fiddled with the lock again using his tools.

"See? It was locked, but I opened it again. And it's locked. Then it's open again. It's really nothing," he laughed heartily as he opened and closed the door.

But at that moment, my tears began to fall uncontrollably. It was as if I was letting out 18 years of grievances at once.

"H-Hey! Don't cry!" He immediately became flustered. "Get inside and take a shower. Don't catch a cold!"

He gently pushed me inside. Then, before he left, he turned around and said, "Call me if you ever need a locksmith again. Free of charge."

I watched him leave before crouching down, hugging my knees as I sobbed. Even a complete stranger was willing to help me when I was at my lowest. Yet, my supposed loved ones had been the ones to keep me out in the rain.

I cried for a very long time, until my throat was raw and the sky gradually cleared. And finally, my heart grew quiet.

I went upstairs and started packing.

Honestly, I wouldn't call it packing. There wasn't much to pack, only a few changes of clothes and some essential documents.

When I opened the drawer in the corner, I found the diary I had treasured for years. It was filled with the secret thoughts of a girl in love.

I had carefully written down every insignificant moment, including the day Shane handed me a bottle of water in the hallway, the time he called my name during the sports meet, and the evening he offered to walk me home because it was getting dark.

It was as if I was collecting pieces of a promise that was never meant to be fulfilled.

When I turned to the last page, my fingers froze.

Three people had been drawn on it—me, Rose, and Shane. We stood hand in hand, with a crooked tree between us and a round sun overhead.

I stared at that drawing for a long time. Then, slowly, I noticed a detail that made my throat tighten. Even in my own drawing, Rose was standing in the middle.

I couldn't bear to look at it any longer. I tore the drawing from the diary. I tore it into four pieces, then eight. And soon, countless fragments were scattered across the floor.

I threw the diary in the trash can and lit it. As the flames sprang up, all those carefully recorded moments turned to ash, drifting into the air.

I watched them burn to nothing. Then, I picked up my bag and went downstairs.