Unwritten Spring Unending Sorrow

Chloe Brooks wrinkled her nose at the smell of my burned foot—it was just too much for her.

Thomas Wells had his servants toss me right out of the doors.

I slumped against the wall, shivering from the pain.

In the background, the TV in the living room droned on about a nasty typhoon hitting us tonight.

There I was, in just a light jacket, in the dead of winter.

I banged on the window, crying out, "Thomas, please! Let me in! The typhoon's coming, and I'll die out here!"

When I was 15, my parents locked me up and planned to end me in a fire. Thomas was the hero who barged in and saved me from that fiery fate.

He was my savior once, but then, he seemed keen on seeing me gone.

I pounded harder, the window shaking with each hit.

Finally, Thomas came over, looking annoyed in his pajamas. "You're making a racket. What's wrong with you?

"Get moving. You woke us, so make yourself useful. Chloe's craving a cake from Victoria Square. Off you go."

"But there's a typhoon, and I'm hurt. Can't you just—"

He crouched down, his fingers ice-cold as they clamped onto my chin. "I said, go."

The servant bundled me up in a bulky, padded coat.

Stepping outside, the chill wind slapped my face raw.

I walked through the pain, teeth clenched.

By the time I got back, my umbrella was history, snapped by the wind. I was a sweaty, bedraggled mess.

Shaking, I handed the cake over to Chloe.

She lounged in the bedroom I used to share with Thomas, her nightgown more teasing than sleep, sampling the cake with a spoon.

"I can't stand this flavor—it's like a rosemary-lemon one. I wanted strawberry," she complained, tossing the cake into the garbage can with a look of disgust.

Thomas overheard and turned to me. "Go get another one, and make sure it's strawberry this time.

"If you're not back in an hour, you might as well bunk with the typhoon tonight."

The bakery owner was taken aback to see me again.

"Girl, you should head back. It's really late, and we're closing up.

"Don't risk your neck for a cake! We're in the middle of a typhoon here. Someone just got crushed by a tree that got blown over!"

As he moved to lock up, I grabbed his hand, desperation in my voice, "I'm sorry... Please, could you make just one more, a strawberry one?"

Cake in hand, I dashed back, narrowly avoiding a car that zoomed by, clipping me.

I hit the pavement hard, my clothes shredded by the rough asphalt.

Scrambling to my feet, I ignored the blood on my hands.

When I finally made it back to the villa with the cake, the servant informed me that Thomas and Chloe were asleep and had left strict orders not to be disturbed.

With that, the door was shut tight.

Panic-stricken, I pounded on the door. "No! Please! Thomas! I got the cake, let me in!"

After what felt like an eternity of silence, my limbs were numb and cold.

I forced myself to leave, remembering a nearby kennel.