I spent the entire Thanksgiving alone in the hospital. Most of my time was spent gazing out the window, admiring the snowy landscape, the starry sky, and the fireworks lighting up the night. During this time, Legacy never called. Instead, Arabella Elliott flooded Instagram with countless photos of them traveling together. Their mutual friends left teasing comments beneath the pictures.

"You two spent the whole holiday together—might as well make it official. You're a match made in heaven!"

"Arabella, keep those pictures coming! You're such a stunning pair!"

I stared at the screen, feeling a strange calm, like a still pool of water. I refreshed the page and saw Legacy replying to a few comments.

"Stop with the nonsense. I'm just keeping Arabella company while she's alone in New York for the holidays."

"Just to clarify, Arabella and I are just really good friends. Everyone, relax."

His replies only added fuel to their excitement. They continued to promote the idea of them being together. I knew those people never accepted me, nor did they believe in my marriage with Legacy. But we weren't divorced yet—did they have to be so ruthless? I swallowed my tears of humiliation and replied:

"Looks like good news is on the horizon, congrats."

As soon as I posted my comment, Arabella deleted all her recent posts. I silently chuckled, finding her actions pointless—they were meant for me to see, after all. I expected Legacy to call and berate me for upsetting Arabella. Sure enough, the phone rang shortly after. I picked up to find Arabella on the line.

"Estrella, did you misunderstand me and Legacy? I truly see him like a brother. If you're upset that he spent the holidays with me, I'll leave New York right away."

Her tearful voice pierced through the phone. I frowned, my patience wearing thin. Before I could respond, Legacy's voice, heavy with anger, took over the line.

"Arabella, I'm your brother's friend; it's only right to look out for you! People with bad intentions should be ashamed!"

Arabella continued to sniffle. I listened silently. No one spoke after that, and I thought that was the end. But Legacy, clearly not done expressing his anger, grabbed her phone and shouted at me furiously:

"Are you happy now, Estrella? Are you satisfied after making Arabella cry?"

"How could you be so heartless? No wonder, among the three of us skiing, only you ended up seriously injured—you deserved it!"

The sound of fireworks exploding outside drowned out Legacy's angry rant. Tears welled up in my eyes once again. For the first time, I hung up on him.

The phone rang yet again.

It wasn't until I shut it off that tranquility returned.

I couldn't comprehend how Legacy and I, once so connected, had reached this point.

Legacy had admitted, early in our relationship, to having a past love—the type often referred to as "the one who got away."

To ease my worries, he promised I would be his sole love from then on, the only one he cherished. He vowed that he’d be my family.

Having been raised without parents, the notion of someone being my family was deeply alluring.

We did enjoy some genuinely happy times together.

But everything unraveled when Arabella came back from overseas.

I should have known better than to count on Legacy to fully commit to me.

Determined not to prolong the agony, I contacted an old friend to help me draft a separation agreement.

It was only upon receiving the agreement that I felt some relief.

I drifted into sleep close to dawn.

Just as I sank into a deep slumber, someone roughly shook me awake.

As I opened my eyes, Arabella’s overly sweet smile greeted me as she chirped, “Estrella, you’re awake! Legacy and I are here to see you. We brought your favorite spiced honey cake. Come on, have a bite.”

She shook my bed carelessly and awkwardly tried to help me sit up.

While doing this, she tugged at my wounds, causing me to gasp in pain. I instinctively pushed her away.

Arabella fell backward.

Legacy caught her quickly, his voice full of urgency, "Are you alright, Arabella?"

Arabella started sobbing theatrically, weakly pushing him away while insisting, "I’m fine, Legacy. Let go, or Estrella might get upset again."

I watched her dramatic performance with a cool detachment.

I anticipated Legacy's anger towards me.

Sure enough, after calming her, he approached and struck the area near my wound.

The pain rendered me speechless.

Legacy seemed satisfied, saying, "Estrella Ruiz, you had this coming."

I locked eyes with him, my face pale.

Legacy’s expression was indifferent, while Arabella gave me a triumphant smile.

The wound on my abdomen reopened, soaking the gauze with blood.

Legacy glanced at it and frowned, "Arabella, you’re squeamish at the sight of blood. Don’t look; it’s gross."

Then, he sheltered her and walked away, leaving me there.