My boyfriend and his godsister were caught by the vice squad at a scandalous party.

When I went to the police station to bail him out, he was disheveled, his exposed skin marked with dried candle wax and whiplash scars. His godsister, Sonia, clung to him, sobbing into his arms.

“The light in Sonia’s house was broken. It was too dark, so I went to accompany her,” he said.

I couldn’t help but wonder, Did he accompany her all the way to the police station too?

In the past, I would’ve demanded an explanation, but I was too tired now—too drained to argue. Without a word, I signed the papers.

The vice squad officer looked at me and asked, “Are you Anthony Leeman’s family?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m not familiar with him. Just a colleague.”

Lowering my gaze, I typed out a message to my father: [I agree to get married. Give me three days, and I’ll marry him.]

After leaving the police station, my boyfriend’s godsister, Sonia Scott, tearfully climbed into the front passenger seat as if she belonged there.

Not wanting to talk, I started the car.

Suddenly, she screamed and looked terrified. “Tony, I’m scared. You know I can’t sit in a car driven by someone else.” Sonia bit her lip, her eyes shimmering as though she was on the verge of tears.

I pulled her hand away. “You can get out of the car.”

Before I could finish, Sonia burst into sobs. “I’ll get out, then. I’m sorry, Celine. It’s my fault that Tony came with me to the police station.”

I didn’t reply, but my boyfriend, Anthony Leeman, glared at me.

“Celine, why are you so heartless? You know what happened to Sonia’s father. It’s not personal—she’s just scared. Can’t you be a little more understanding?”

‘Be understanding?’ I thought, glancing at Anthony’s torn clothes and exposed wounds. Did he expect me to sympathize with the fact they attended a scandalous party together?

Anthony caught the look in my eyes, and his expression darkened. He flung the car door open.

It was freezing outside. Dressed in only a single layer, I shivered involuntarily.

“Celine, I didn’t think you could be this cold-blooded. Get out. I’ll take Sonia home myself!” Without giving me a chance to respond, Anthony dragged me out of the car.

The street was bustling with traffic. I stumbled, narrowly avoiding an oncoming car.

Anthony didn’t even look back. He climbed into the driver’s seat and turned to Sonia with a tenderness I hadn’t seen in years. “It’s okay, Sonia. Let the evil woman find her own way home.”

With that, he sped off, leaving me standing in the cold.

As the car pulled away, I saw Sonia press herself against Anthony, her body language smug and victorious.

My phone buzzed with a message. I opened it to find a photo from my father.

My father: [Celine, look. This is Hugo Young.]

Hugo was the man I was supposed to marry—the dashing heir of the Young family.

My father: [Celine, I’m getting old. Our family needs a new leader to move us forward. I’m glad you agreed to the marriage.]

‘Really, Dad?’ I thought bitterly. ‘You know I left because I didn’t want to be a pawn for the family.’

Seven years. I had given up my role as an heiress, abandoned my family’s glory, and started from scratch with Anthony.

Though he said it wasn’t the right timing, I endured multiple abortions because I believed our love could overcome anything as long as I loved him and he loved me.

But I couldn’t do it anymore. I was done suffering. I would marry Hugo Young, become a rich wife, and leave this misery behind.

When I finally made it home, Anthony still wasn’t back—probably busy comforting Sonia in bed.

Numbly, I began packing. Moments later, Anthony walked in. “What are you doing?”

Without looking at him, I tossed all the clothes from the wardrobe into a trash bag. “Getting rid of things I don’t like.”

He didn’t seem to grasp my meaning. “You should’ve gotten rid of those ages ago. I’ll buy you new ones when we get married.”

His words hung in the air, a promise I would’ve cherished in the past. Now, they felt like a cruel joke.

Sensing my indifference, Anthony hesitated, then headed for the bathroom. “Fine. I’m taking a shower.”

The sound of running water filled the apartment as Anthony’s phone buzzed on the table. Irritated, I picked it up to turn it off, only to see a message from Sonia.

It was a photo of the two of them at the party, entangled on a bed. Beneath them was my cherished wedding dress—the one I had long dreamed of wearing.

I had once told Anthony how much I loved that dress. His reply? “You can like whatever you want. They all look the same to me.”

Now, that dress was nothing more than a prop in Sonia’s twisted game with him.

“Who told you to look?”

Anthony’s voice startled me. He stood behind me, his expression furious.

Before I could respond, he snatched the phone and shoved me to the ground. The sharp edge of the buttons scattered across the floor bit into my palm, leaving it bleeding profusely.

I stared at the blood, feeling numb.

The messages between him and Sonia flashed in my mind—countless exchanges, day and night, more than he had ever said to me in seven years.

“I’m sorry. I won’t look again,” I said quietly.

Not expecting an apology, Anthony’s expression softened slightly.

“It was just an artistic photo. I told you we were attending an artist’s party. You wouldn’t understand even if I explained. But you have to believe—there’s nothing going on between us.”

He didn’t even bother to explain further.

Sonia’s father, Timothy Scott, had been Anthony’s mentor.

When Anthony first started his business, he struggled to secure funding. Timothy had a car accident while trying to gather the money for Anthony’s startup.

He died shortly after arriving at the hospital, his final words asking Anthony to take care of Sonia. Out of gratitude, Anthony treated Sonia like a sister.

At first, he avoided interacting with her too much, worried I might overthink their relationship. Somehow, though, Sonia had grown closer to him than I ever was.

I was leaving anyway, so I decided to be blunt. “There’s no misunderstanding. I think you and Sonia are a great match. You should get married.”

Before I could finish, Anthony shoved me to the ground again, his face twisted with rage. “Sonia only sees me as a brother. Do you think she’s a shameless woman like you?”

My back slammed into the closet, and pain shot through me. I thought bitterly, ‘Yeah, Sonia did the deed with you for the sake of art. And I’m just a shameless woman for you to push around.’

Shaking, I stood up, gripping the wardrobe for support. Blood from my palm smeared the door, leaving dark streaks.

Anthony’s eyes widened in panic when he noticed. “Are… are you okay? You know I didn’t mean it...”

It didn’t matter anymore.

“Anthony, I promise to marry—”

Before I could finish, his phone rang. It was Sonia.

“Tony, it’s dark, and I’m scared. I had a dream about my dad…”

Anthony immediately began getting dressed. “What did you say just now?” he asked, glancing at me briefly. “Never mind. Sonia’s scared, so I’ll go keep her company. We’ll talk when I get back.”

He stayed out all night.

The next morning, I quit my job and packed the clothes I had sorted the night before. I was going to donate them.

At the donation center downstairs, I noticed moving trucks parked outside the apartment next door. Workers were unloading brand-new furniture. Someone was moving in.

Amid the bustle of people coming and going, I spotted Anthony. Sonia clung to his arm, her eyes full of adoration.

They looked like newlyweds preparing their first home, their eyes filled with love for each other. Anthony had looked at me the same way when we moved in here, eager to build a life together.

“Miss, your donation form is ready. Miss?” The staff member’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

I signed the papers absentmindedly.

As I handed the form back, Sonia saw me and approached with a bright smile.

“Celine, you’re here too! What do you think of the apartment next door? I’ve been having nightmares lately, and you know Tony—he’s always worried about me. So, he bought me the apartment.”

I ignored her and turned to leave, but behind me, I heard a sudden scream.

When I glanced back, Sonia was sprawled on the ground, crying as though she had been pushed.

Anthony came running over, his face filled with concern as he helped her up. “Sonia, are you okay?”

His tone softened for her, but the moment his eyes met mine, his expression hardened. “Celine, I told you there’s nothing going on between Sonia and me. How could you be so cruel?”

Tears welled in Sonia’s eyes, and she tried to play peacemaker. “Tony, it’s my fault. This has nothing to do with Celine. I upset her by disturbing you.”

“Sonia, you’re too kind!” Anthony snapped, glaring at me.

Their sibling charade made me sick. I turned to walk away, but Anthony grabbed my shoulder.

“Did I say you could leave? You owe Sonia an apology!”

I frowned. “Apologize? For what? For her tripping over nothing, falling by herself?”

Anthony’s face twisted with anger. “You obviously pushed her! Don’t think I don’t know what kind of person you are.”

Seeing I wasn’t about to back down, Sonia stepped forward, biting her lip. “Stop arguing. I fell on my own. Celine didn’t push me.”

Anthony sneered. “Look at Sonia—so kind, so understanding. And then look at you. Why are you so mean and disgusting?”

In the end, I didn't apologize. Sonia kept complaining about her pain, so Anthony had no choice but to focus on her.

Watching them leave, I remembered I had to visit the hospital too. I'd been struggling with insomnia, relying on sleeping pills just to get through the nights.

After picking up my prescription from a private clinic, I walked out and spotted Anthony carrying Sonia on his back.

"Look at her boyfriend," some passersby murmured, their voices tinged with envy.

Sonia shyly buried her face in Anthony's shoulder. "Put me down, Tony. I'm fine…"

Anthony's tone was filled with affection. "Sonia, you're hurt."

I wasn't surprised to see them; it was the closest clinic to our home.

We crossed paths downstairs. When Anthony saw me, he frowned. "Why are you here? Are you stalking me?"

I raised the sleeping pills in my hand. His expression softened. "Insomnia isn't a disease. Stop taking that stuff."

Sonia muttered something about her pain, and I turned to leave.

Cars zipped by on the street when, suddenly, a vehicle lost control and crashed into a streetlight.

Sparks flickered, and the lights on the entire street dimmed, plunging the area into darkness.

Panic rippled through the crowd. I crouched down, trembling. The dark had always terrified me.

Anthony seemed to remember this.

"Celine, are you okay?" he asked. "Sonia, Celine is afraid of the dark. Get off first."

My voice shook as I tried to reply, but before I could, Sonia clung tighter to him, crying. "Tony, I'm scared too. Don't put me down. Please, I'm scared."

Her soft, pleading voice left Anthony no choice. He stayed with her, leaving me behind.

I felt my way to the roadside and collapsed in a corner, my body trembling uncontrollably. Sweat soaked through my clothes as I hugged my knees, whispering to myself that I would be okay.

When we used to lose power at home, Anthony would comfort me patiently, holding me close until the lights came back on. But now…

I didn't make a sound and waited in silence. It felt like hours before the lights finally returned. Shaky and exhausted, I made my way home.

When I got back, I stared blankly at the ceiling lights, still shaken.

It was much later when Anthony returned, carrying a bouquet of roses and a bottle of milk. He handed the milk to me. "Milk helps with insomnia."

He had forgotten I was allergic to milk.

I took the bottle and drank it numbly, ignoring the pain in my stomach. Looking at Anthony, I said, "Tomorrow's our anniversary. Come home for dinner."

Anthony paused, then nodded slightly before walking away.

I clutched the table for support and made my way to my room.

I wasn't much of a cook—I grew up with housekeepers—but I was decent at baking desserts, especially cheesecake.

However, for some reason, every attempt that day ended in failure. Finally, the last one turned out perfect.

I glanced at the clock. Anthony would be back soon. This was our last anniversary and my final day before leaving.

However, instead of Anthony showing up, I received a phone call.

"Sonia's illness relapsed. I'm taking her to see a psychologist," he said. His excuse was so half-hearted it made me laugh bitterly.

Moments later, I saw an update on Anthony's social media.

It was a photo of him and Sonia standing in front of a window at a seaside villa. Under the warm glow of lights, they were cutting a cake together, hand in hand.

"I'll hang up if there's nothing else," I said flatly.

"There's nothing else. Bye," Anthony replied.

I liked the post and threw my cake into the trash.

It was fine. If Anthony didn't care about me anymore, he would be happy to see me leave.

That night, I packed my things and left the house I had shared with him for seven years—empty-handed.

On my way out, I posted all the evidence of Anthony and Sonia's affair on social media. The so-called "artistic photos" were included.

I considered it my parting gift—our last anniversary present.

Before boarding my flight, I sent Anthony a final message.

Celine: [Happy last anniversary.]

I told myself it was over. I'd been blind, but not anymore.

As the plane prepared for takeoff, my phone buzzed with Anthony's call.

"Celine, have you lost your mind? How dare you post those things on social media? Delete them and apologize to Sonia right now!"

I turned off my phone and leaned back in my seat, letting his countless calls go unanswered.