Chapter 5

These past few days, I hadn't been home.

Jameson's life had turned into a mess. He barely touched breakfast, eating just a few bites to get by.

The way he said it carried a subtle accusation.

"Mia, you…"

Jameson stopped in his tracks. There was no sign of me in the hospital room.

I followed his gaze and saw Isabella chatting and laughing with a nurse. Their conversation halted the moment they noticed him at the door.

Jameson's expression shifted when he saw who it was. He forced himself to act composed as he walked in. "Isabella, it's you?"

Isabella smiled. "It's an important day. Dad's being discharged. Of course, I came. You mentioned Mia just now. Has she come back?"

Jameson shook his head.

Isabella glanced at the time. "It's still early. Maybe there's traffic. Mia's always been filial—she'll come."

Jameson's eyes softened.

That was what he admired most about Isabella. She could be strong, but also gentle. Unlike Mia, who was delicate and aloof—quick to throw a tantrum when things didn't go her way.

I stood by the window, watching the snow swirl outside. My eyes were full of sorrow.

'Jameson, I've been dead for so long. Why haven't you realized it?'

...

He was destined to be disappointed.

I never showed up—not even after Paul finished his check-up.

Sitting in his wheelchair, Paul sighed. "Jameson, Mia's not like Isabella. She's childish and fragile. You're a man—just give in, say a few soft words to calm her down. She'll come back."

Paul treated me well enough, but in his heart, I never compared to Isabella.

Jameson, always respectful toward elders, nodded as he pushed the wheelchair. "I understand. I'll call her later."

Caitlyn, dressed in a white coat, appeared at the door. She was the hospital director and had stopped by to see Paul on her rounds.

Glancing around the room, she asked, "Mia's not here?"

Then she sneered. "This is your good daughter? Still throwing a tantrum over some petty thing? Even now, she won't come to see you get discharged. Honestly, you should've kicked her out back then. But no—you insisted on keeping her. Now look what you've raised. A thankless little ingrate!"

When Caitlyn found out I was Paul's illegitimate child, she'd raised hell, threatening to throw me out of the family.

It was only after a fortune teller told her that only I could shield Isabella from disaster that Caitlyn reluctantly agreed to let me stay.

Facing Caitlyn, Paul lost all his confidence. After all, he had been the one at fault all those years ago.

"What's the point of saying this now? You know what Mia's like—this time she just lost her temper. She…"

Before he could finish, Isabella spoke remorsefully. "Dad, Mom, don't argue. This is all my fault. If I hadn't come back to the family, none of this would've happened. Mia wouldn't have left in anger."

Jameson's expression was full of concern. "It's my fault too. I upset her. I'll call and apologize right now."

I'd always thought Jameson wouldn't lower himself for anyone.

But there it was—concern written all over his face. He really did care for Isabella.

He was even willing to apologize—something he refused to do for me.

'But, Jameson… Even if you apologize now, I can't forgive you. Because I'm already dead.'

Jameson pulled out his phone, ready to make the call.

Caitlyn said, "She doesn't care about us. Why should we chase after her? You did nothing wrong—what are you apologizing for?"

Isabella chimed in, "Jameson, I'm worried about Mia too, but she really crossed the line this time. Dad's been sick, and she doesn't even show up? It's hard to excuse that. Don't apologize—otherwise she'll think it's okay to throw fits like this whenever she wants."

Jameson had been listening closely.

And just like that, he hesitated. He put the phone down and gave up on the apology.

Watching him raise his hand, then slowly lower it again—I couldn't even describe the depth of my disappointment.

A few casual comments from Isabella and Caitlyn were all it took to sway him. That was how little I mattered to him.

After all the years we loved each other, after growing up side by side.

He'd once been everything to me.

'Jameson, how could you be so heartless?'

He personally saw the Dawson family home, where they sat down to a warm, cheerful meal.

At the dinner table, Jameson sat next to Isabella. They chatted and laughed together.

Paul and Caitlyn were in high spirits.

The whole family looked so harmonious. It was as if I had never existed.

After dinner, Paul took advantage of a smoke break to pull Jameson aside.

He said, "Mia might've gone too far this time, skipping even my discharge. But she's still just a girl, out there alone—it's not safe. Just soften your tone and ask her to come home."

Hearing those words, I didn't feel much of anything.

Because for as long as I could remember, Paul's love had always been just enough—not enough to make me hate him, not enough to make me love him either.

He used to slip me some allowance money, but gave Isabella ten times more.

Even taking me out to eat had to be done in secret, always some hole-in-the-wall spot—while Isabella dined openly at the finest restaurants.

Jameson flicked ash from his cigarette. "I know. My birthday's coming up—she'll definitely come back."

He said it with such certainty because he was confident.

We'd grown up together, childhood sweethearts. I had never missed a single one of his birthdays.

He knew my complicated family made me cold toward my family, but he also knew I had endless patience for him.

In his mind, maybe I could miss Paul's discharge—but not his birthday.

Paul nodded. "Good. When she comes back, be gentle. Say something nice."

Jameson stubbed out his cigarette. "Alright. I'll talk to her."

Then he pulled out his phone to take a call.

After a week of silence, Marcus finally called.

Jameson tossed the cigarette butt into the trash. "Hey, the busy man finally has time to call me?"

Marcus had been tied up with a serial killer case—days of no sleep. He was finally catching a break, enough to chat for a bit.

"There's a family banquet tomorrow. You coming?"

Jameson idly spun his lighter. "If you're going, I'm going. Been a while—let's grab a drink?"

"Sure, we can meet. But no drinking. Rules."

With his job, Marcus rarely drank unless necessary.

Jameson clicked his tongue. "So boring."

"Oh, right. Bring Mia with you. My mom found another one of those necklaces she liked. Tell her to come see it."

Jameson's expression shifted slightly. Then he said, flatly, "She's not coming."

On the other end of the line, Marcus frowned. "Don't tell me… Mia still hasn't come home?"