Chapter 3

Felix's eyes were ice-cold as he stared at me, as if I were a stranger.

He said flatly, "Let's take Jocelyn to the hospital first."

He didn't hesitate, question, or even harbor a single doubt about the so-called "crime" they'd pinned on me.

Joseph hurriedly draped a coat over Jocelyn and helped her out the door.

They all rushed out, not one of them sparing me a glance.

The moment the door slammed shut, silence swallowed the house whole. Only then did the weight of it hit me. They were really gone, and I was all alone.

I dragged my numb body back to my room. The silence was so heavy that even the sound of my own breathing felt jarring.

I opened the closet and folded a few everyday clothes into my suitcase. Passport, IDs, and bank cards—I checked them one by one.

As I cleared out my drawer, a thick notebook slipped out and thudded onto the floor. It was the diary I'd started writing when I was eight.

I stared at it, my fingers trembling, and was unable to stop myself from flipping it open.

Page after page, the yellowed paper held the stories of my growing pains and loneliness.

When I was little, money was tight, and my parents always said they had to give the best for Joseph and Jocelyn.

Joseph's brilliance earned him a place at an elite private school, while Jocelyn's frail health demanded their constant care and attention.

As for me? I was sent to a boarding school, and ten years slipped away just like that.

Whenever the holidays came around, the dorm would empty as my roommates were picked up by their parents for family reunions.

I was always the one left behind, standing in the quiet hallway as I watched everyone else roll their suitcases away. The letters that occasionally came from home were brief and cold. "Behave yourself. Don't cause us trouble."

When I finally earned my place at a university, I thought I'd earned the "right" to come home. Yet there were no warm embraces, nor whispered words saying they'd missed me. Their only offering was a cramped, shadowy room in the corner of the first floor.

That was when the realization hit me. In this family, I was nothing more than a burden they needed to tuck away.

At first, I'd cried. I buried my face in my pillow at night, sobbing until my throat burned. But eventually, I forced myself to go silent.

I threw myself into chores, followed every rule, and did everything I could to make myself "useful". I was convinced that if I worked hard enough, they'd finally look my way.

But reality proved, again and again, that no matter how much I tried, some things were simply out of reach. Their love, for instance, had never been meant for me.

My hand froze on a page, my fingers pressing so hard the paper creased.

I took a deep breath and closed the diary.

My gaze drifted toward the nightstand, where the pregnancy test lay. The two lines stared back at me, so stark that it hurt to look.

This morning, I'd pictured myself telling Felix on our wedding day, watching the first spark of joy light up his eyes, and feeling him pull me into his arms.

But now, I knew that this was a secret I no longer needed to share.