Chapter 4

I shoved her away with all my strength.

My hand instinctively went to scratch my face, but the slightest touch sent a wave of skin-crawling pain through me.

"Cough... cough... my face, what was that..."

Ronan rushed out from the bedroom and froze the moment he saw me. He grabbed Clara's wrist, his voice sharp with fury.

"You said you were just going to switch her perfume! How could her face react like this?!"

"What the hell are you trying to do?"

Clara wrenched her hand free, her face flushed and her lips trembling.

"I... I don't know! I just grabbed a random bottle!"

"How was I supposed to know she was so delicate? Besides, you were the one complaining a few days ago about how you hated her boring perfume. You basically gave me permission to do it!"

The volatile chemical made my body tremble, my skin going numb. My windpipe was swelling rapidly, making each breath feel like swallowing razor blades.

"So you were willing to let her apologize to me... Ronan, you don't deserve the dignity of a clean break."

I leaned against the wall, trying to make my way to the bathroom to wash my face. But after just two steps, my vision went black.

The last thing I heard before losing consciousness was his panicked voice, calling my name, just like he had six years ago when I'd cut my finger.

"Aurora—Aurora, don't scare me!"

When I opened my eyes again, it was evening. The air was thick with the heavy smell of medical alcohol.

The pain on my face and neck was still intense enough to make me wish for death.

I vaguely remembered hearing the doctor say, as I was being carried in, that I had suffered a severe allergic reaction to the chemical.

The skin on my jaw and right cheek was badly blistered and inflamed, and it would take considerable time and treatment to fully recover.

My faint gasp alerted Ronan, who was sitting in the shadows.

"Aurora, you're finally awake... you scared me to death. The doctor said you were exposed to a highly acidic chemical and went into anaphylactic shock."

He leaned closer, his voice low.

"Clara really did want to apologize. You know she has been spoiled since she was a kid. She's arrogant, but she absolutely did not do it on purpose. Stop being difficult. Whatever you want, jewelry, a sports car, just name it."

I looked at him.

As he eagerly defended her, he never once asked if I was in pain, never mentioned how much I would suffer during the recovery process.

It did not even occur to him how agonizing it was for me to endure this burning sensation, or how hard it would be to deal with my swollen face.

Everything he said was to absolve his precious childhood sweetheart. His mouth, his heart, they were all full of her.

The tears just started falling then, making the inflamed skin on my face burn with an unbearable pain.

But in that moment, I couldn't tell which hurt more, my body or my heart.

"I'm not angry," I heard myself say. "I just regret it. I should never have said yes to you back then."

His body went rigid. He opened his mouth to say something, but his phone lit up on the side table.

He glanced down. From the corner of my eye, I saw it was a call from his family's Don.

The emotion on his face vanished, replaced by the calm, controlled expression I knew so well.

"I'm going to take this outside. You rest. I'll be right back."

He walked briskly out of the room. I watched his retreating back and, with a courage I didn't know I possessed, threw off the covers, pulled out my IV, and followed him out on bare feet.

In a dim corner of the hallway, I saw him standing with Clara, who was leaning against the wall, smoking.

"Alright, cut the act. She's awake. Once she's done with her little drama, it'll be fine."

"She's always like this."

Clara blew a smoke ring, her expression showing not a shred of guilt.

"She can't even handle a little excitement? What if she finds out that you chasing her wasn't some 'love at first sight' bullshit? That it was just because you lost a game of Truth or Dare to me that year."

"And that anniversary she's so obsessed with? It was just the deadline for our bet."

"She'd go completely insane if she knew all that, wouldn't she?"

Ronan's expression hardened, and he snatched the cigarette from her hand. "Shut up! You'd better bury that story and take it to your grave!"

In that instant, a roar filled my ears.

I couldn't hear anything but a constant, high-pitched ringing.

I leaned against the wall, my legs weak, as if my bones were being pulled out one by one. I could barely stand.

All the things that had been stuck in my heart for years, things I could never figure out, now had an answer.

Why he always chose her over me.

Why he said he loved me so much, yet let her hurt me every single time.

I had thought he was a man of loyalty and honor, deeply devoted to his family, maybe just lacking a sense of boundaries.

I had never dared to imagine that from the very first second we met, everything he had given me was a lie.

Even that night I thought was my salvation, his words "you're the only one for me," were just a chip in a bet.

It turned out that in their eyes, I was never Ronan's lover.

I was just a clown in their game, there for their amusement.

In that moment, the self-respect and dignity I had spent six years trying to maintain were torn to shreds.

I bit down hard on the back of my hand, forcing back the sob that was about to escape my throat. I had to get out of here.

Leave this place, leave this suffocatingly fake world, leave everything that had ever borne his name or been touched by his influence.

While no one was looking, I slipped out the back door of the clinic, went back to the hotel, grabbed my luggage, and headed straight for the airport.

I paid a hefty fee to change my ticket to the next flight to San Loro City.

Just before going through security, my phone screen lit up with a text from Ronan.

"The doctor said you need to be under observation. Don't run off. Where are you? I'll come get you."

I stared at the urgent message, a bitter laugh escaping me as tears rolled down my cheeks.

I didn't reply. One by one, I blocked and deleted his number and the contact information of everyone in his circle.

I finally stopped at his contact name. love Ronan.

I hit delete.

The screen flickered, and the name that had defined my life for the last six years vanished completely.

The final boarding call echoed through the terminal.

I picked up my bag and walked into the jet bridge without looking back.

Now you and Clara can play your games of Truth or Dare all you want.