Chapter 2

The Hayes family crest felt cold against my palm.

I stared at the silver pendant, remembering the Christmas morning when Nathaniel had clasped it around my neck. "So you'll always belong somewhere," he'd said, his fingers gentle at my nape.

Belong. What a cruel joke.

My hands trembled as I placed it in the cardboard box with the other relics of my foolishness. The cashmere scarf he'd chosen for my eighteenth birthday, soft as a whisper and the color of winter sky. The leather-bound copy of Jane Eyre with his careful annotations in the margins, each note a breadcrumb I'd followed deeper into my delusion.

"What are you doing?"

I didn't look up as Nathaniel filled the doorway. "Packing."

"Elena—"

"Don't." The word came out sharper than I intended. "Just... don't."

He stepped into my room anyway, and I caught a whiff of his cologne—sandalwood and something uniquely him that had once made me dizzy. Now it just made me nauseous.

"You don't have to throw everything away," he said quietly.

"Yes, I do."

Every gift, every memory, every stupid momento of a love that was never returned. Into the box they went, one by one, like I was burying the dead.

"Elena, we need to talk—"

"Nathaniel!" Sabrina's voice cut through whatever he'd been about to say. She appeared beside him, all golden hair and perfectly applied lipstick, extending a small velvet box toward me. "I have a little welcome gift for my new sister!"

Sister. There was that word again, twisted into something that sounded like ownership.

"You didn't have to—" I started.

"Nonsense! Open it!"

Inside was a delicate gold watch, the kind that cost more than most people's rent. Beautiful, expensive, and completely wrong for me.

"Let me put it on you!" Sabrina chirped, reaching for my wrist before I could protest.

The metal clasp closed around my skin like a shackle.

The reaction was immediate—a burning sensation that spread up my arm like wildfire. I gasped, trying to unclasp the watch, but Sabrina held my wrist tight.

"What's wrong?" she asked, but her eyes were dancing with something that looked suspiciously like satisfaction.

"Metal allergy," I managed, finally getting the clasp open. Angry red welts were already forming where the watch had touched my skin.

Nathaniel's face went white. "Christ, Elena, are you—"

"I'm fine." I wasn't. My wrist felt like it was on fire.

"Oh no!" Sabrina gasped, but she was looking at Nathaniel, not at me. "I'm so sorry, darling! I had no idea!"

Darling. She was calling him darling while I stood there with chemical burns on my arm.

"It's fine," I said again, even as my skin continued to burn. "Really."

Nathaniel reached for my wrist, his fingers cool against the inflamed skin. For just a moment, I let myself remember when his touch meant comfort, protection, love.

Then Sabrina made a small, wounded sound, and his attention snapped back to her like she was magnetic north.

"Baby, don't cry," he murmured, pulling her into his arms. "It was an accident."

Baby. When had he started calling her that?

I turned back to my packing, adding the watch to the box with everything else. My wrist throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the ache in my chest.

"I'll be staying here for the next few days," Sabrina announced, her voice bright and cheerful again. "Wedding planning, you know! There's so much to do!"

"Here?" I looked up despite myself.

"Well, yes. I mean, this will be my home soon enough." She laughed that musical laugh that made my teeth ache. "You'll have to get used to calling me sister, Elena."

The way she said my name made it sound like something dirty.

"I'm just cleaning out some old things," I said, taping up the box with more force than necessary.

"Spring cleaning in winter?" Sabrina laughed that musical laugh that made my teeth ache. "How... thorough of you. Though I suppose it's good to make space for new memories, don't you think? Family memories."

Family. She kept using that word like a weapon.

Nathaniel was watching me with a frown, his dark eyes searching my face like he was trying to solve a puzzle. "Elena, are you sure you're alright?"

"Perfect," I lied smoothly. "Never better."

That evening, I sat on my bedroom floor surrounded by ten years of memories. Diary after diary, filled with Nathaniel's name in looping script. Letters I'd written but never sent, pouring out feelings I'd been too afraid to voice. Photos from family vacations where I'd stood just close enough to him to feel his warmth but never close enough to matter.

I tore each page methodically, the sound of ripping paper a symphony of liberation.

No tears. I'd cried enough over Nathaniel Hayes to fill an ocean. Tonight, I felt nothing but a strange, cold clarity.

The girl who had loved him was dying, page by page.

And I was finally ready to let her go.

I stuffed the shredded remains into a garbage bag, twisted it shut, and set it by the door. Tomorrow, even the pieces would be gone.

From down the hall came the sound of Sabrina's laughter, bright and victorious, followed by Nathaniel's deeper chuckle.

They sounded happy.

Good for them.

I turned off my light and lay in the darkness, my burned wrist still throbbing against the cool sheets.

In thirty-six hours, I would be on a plane to London, and they would wake up to find me gone.

The thought of their shock, their confusion, filled me with a dark satisfaction.

But first, I had to survive two more nights of pretending everything was normal.