Curled up on the plush carpet, I hugged my knees to my chest, numb fingers mindlessly scrolling through my phone.

And that was when I stumbled upon Heidi's latest post.

She had just shared a picture of the "Only Star in the Galaxy"—a pink diamond so rare and dazzling it looked as if it had been plucked straight from the heavens.

I still remembered how Cassian had fought tooth and nail for that diamond at the auction, going back and forth with rival bidders for dozens of rounds before finally winning it.

Everyone had assumed, without a shadow of doubt, that he had bought it for me.

But now, that very same diamond was perched prettily on Heidi's delicate hand.

The caption beneath the photo read: [Who says a fleeting moment of brilliance can't rival a lifetime of companionship? Grateful to God for letting me meet you.]

Fleeting moment of brilliance. Lifetime of companionship.

I stared at the words, feeling the sting in their hidden meanings.

Without thinking, I clicked open my chat with Richard Henderson. Our conversation was still frozen on the last message he had sent—the one where he had confessed his feelings, asking if I would be his girlfriend.

Slowly and deliberately, I typed a reply: [Okay. I accept.]

Almost immediately, a message bounced back: [Changed your mind?]

Once upon a time, my heart had been so tiny, so narrow, it could hold only one person. Now it was vast and hollow, and yet, no one seemed able to fill it.

If that was the case, why not give Richard and myself a chance?

The next morning, I submitted my application for the overseas exchange program without a second thought.

And I made another decision: I would move back into the school dormitory.

I returned home to pack a few of my things, expecting a quiet, uneventful visit. Instead, the moment I pushed open the door, I was greeted by the sight of Heidi standing in the kitchen, casually stirring something over the stove.

She wore a flimsy, provocative camisole dress, and in one hand she held a tablet, watching something with leisurely amusement.

Something about the tablet caught my eye—it looked alarmingly familiar.

It was mine.

She was flipping through it with complete disregard, a smirk playing at the corners of her mouth every so often, as if mocking what she saw.

"Give it back!" I cried, rushing forward in a panic, reaching out to snatch it from her.

That tablet had no password. It contained important files, countless photos, and worst of all—my personal diaries, chronicling years of memories with Cassian, all the private little confessions and foolish daydreams I had never dared to say out loud.

They were all exposed now. Violated.

Heidi, quick and agile, easily dodged my grasp. Then, without so much as a second's hesitation, she hurled the entire tablet into the bubbling pot on the stove.

The scalding broth swallowed the device whole. Within seconds, the screen flickered once—then went black.

Frantic, I plunged my hand into the boiling liquid, but the searing heat burned my skin instantly, leaving an angry, red welt across the back of my hand.

Blinded by rage, I turned and slapped her—hard.

Heidi stumbled back, her hand pressed against her cheek, her eyes burning with venomous hatred.

For a long moment, neither of us moved.

Then, slowly, she lowered her hand and gave a soft, derisive laugh.

"You're so in love with Cassian, aren't you?" she drawled, her voice dripping with mockery. "Too bad all your precious little fantasies will come true today, for me."

The moment she finished speaking, Heidi burst into tears once again.

I stared at her, bewildered by how fast she could change her face, as if flipping a switch. Before I could even process it, she had already dashed behind me and collapsed dramatically into the arms of the man standing there.

"Cassian," she sobbed pitifully, clutching his shirt, "I was just making soup for you, but Zora suddenly stormed in and threw her tablet into the pot! Then she slapped me!"

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she hiccupped, "Cassian, why did she do that?"

My eyes widened in disbelief. How could she lie so shamelessly without even blinking?

Cassian glanced down at her tear-streaked face, his gaze lingering on the faint but unmistakable red imprint of fingers. His expression darkened. Without a moment's hesitation, he strode toward me, rage flashing in his eyes.

And then—smack!—his palm collided brutally with my face.

"You're unbelievable!" he roared. "What scheme are you trying to pull this time? Who are you trying to frame now?"

His voice grew harsher, more cutting with every word. "I've raised you for ten years—not to become someone so vicious and shameless!"

The force of his slap made me stagger backward. My vision blurred, and I had to clutch the wall just to steady myself. A sharp, metallic tang filled my mouth as blood welled up between my lips.

"Apologize to Heidi. Now!" he barked, his voice laced with fury.

Slowly, I lifted my head to look at him. "Why should I apologize?"

I wasn't the one lying. She was.

Cassian froze, clearly stunned that the usually obedient, docile me would dare to talk back.

His face twisted into a darker, more sinister expression as he sneered coldly, "Zora, you've gone too far! Have you forgotten who you are? Forgotten where you came from? You're nothing more than a piece of collateral—something your father, Patrick, used to pay off his one-million-dollar debt. That's all.

"I've been kind to you, but don't mistake kindness for indulgence. Don't you dare get ideas above your station!"

A bitter taste filled my heart, even stronger than the blood in my mouth.

Yes. Ten years had passed—and I had almost forgotten the road that brought me here.

I remembered it so clearly now: the day I moved into this house, when he had held my hand in front of all the staff and declared with such conviction, "From today on, Zora is part of this family. If I find out anyone mistreats her, they'll have me to answer to."

He had personally overseen the decorating of my bedroom, helping me pick out every piece, from the curtains to the doorknobs.

He had made sure my clothes, my meals, my daily needs were carefully tailored to my preferences.

And when a servant had secretly bullied me, he hadn't hesitated to punish them ruthlessly.

Back then, what did I mean to him? Maybe nothing more than a stray kitten that a kind-hearted young man in his twenties had decided to rescue on a whim.

But things had changed.

Now he had a new love—a new pet to fawn over. And his beloved Heidi, on her very first day in this house, had smashed the only precious thing my late mother had left me.

My mother had scrimped and saved for that little crystal globe, even choosing it over buying her own medicine, back when we had nothing left. It was the only piece of my old life that I had carried with me when I came here.

And what had Cassian said when I confronted him, desperate and heartbroken?

"Why are you acting like a crazy person over something so trivial? Where are your manners? It's just a crystal ball. Your mother's been dead for over a decade. That thing's worthless. Don't make things difficult for Heidi. If you want, I can buy you ten—hell, I can buy you a hundred."

A hundred new crystal balls.

As if they could ever replace that one.

Looking back now, I realized how foolish I had been.

I should have seen it then. I should have understood that the "Uncle Cassian" I once clung to had become a stranger—a man who no longer saw me as his princess.

I turned my gaze toward the enamel pot, where the boiling soup frothed and churned over the ruins of my tablet.

Everything I had recorded over these years—the fleeting dreams, the secret hopes, the tender memories—were dissolving into that pot of scalding broth, destined to rot away in a heap of scrap metal.

After packing my things with embarrassing simplicity, I officially moved into the school's dormitory.

At the same time, I began discreetly scouting around for a suitable apartment to rent. I was determined to sever ties completely and move out of Cassian's house for good.

During this period, Richard called me a few times.

Although I had agreed to be his girlfriend, he showed remarkable patience in the face of my distant and evasive attitude.

Richard had always been the campus golden boy: impeccable family background, devastatingly handsome — the kind of man who could make a path of swooning admirers wherever he walked. There were no shortage of girls at school who had confessed their affections for him, or at least sighed about it from afar.

Our paths had crossed during the university's stock market simulation competition — an event so cutthroat it could make even seasoned Wall Street traders break into a cold sweat. I had defeated him to take the championship trophy, and, ever since that fateful day, he had pursued me with a dogged determination that would have impressed even the most cynical of onlookers.

But back then, my heart — foolish, stubborn thing that it was — had eyes only for Cassian.

Now, when I finally turned around, I found Richard still standing where I had left him, as if frozen in time, waiting.

I agreed to go on a date with him.

As we strolled side by side across the leafy campus paths, I could feel the stares trailing after us — an endless parade of curious glances, whispers, and wide eyes.

Richard, ever the gentleman, noticed the faint burn on the back of my hand and carefully, almost reverently, placed a band-aid over it.

I stared at the cartoon design on the plaster — bright, childish, absurdly cute — and before I could stop myself, my mind flashed back to Cassian.

He had often bought me little things like this.

When I first moved into the Andor household, I was practically mute, going days without saying a word.

Cassian, in an effort to coax a smile out of me, had once spotted the fraying pink bear patch on my battered old schoolbag. Without hesitation, he had gone all out: he turned the entire backyard into a giant, candy-pink bear wonderland.

It was the stuff of a little girl's wildest dreams — towering plush bears, pink swings, and a massive strawberry-scented castle.

"This is all yours," he had told me. "Anything you like, just tell me. I'll get it for you."

I would never forget the gentleness in his eyes that day, the way his voice dipped low and tender, as if I were the most precious thing in the world.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I had whispered a timid "thank you."

But I had never told him the truth — that I didn't even like that pink bear.

My mother had salvaged that old bag from a trash heap during a time when we could barely afford to eat.

Yet for ten years after that, everything I owned — my stationery, my clothes, even my hair ties — were pink bear-themed.

Even now, this band-aid plastered on my hand carried the same motif, like some inescapable emblem of the past.

But the man who once cared about every small scratch and whim of mine... he had long stopped paying attention.

The difference now was staggering.

My eyes stung suddenly, unbidden tears rising to the surface. I lowered my head quickly, pretending that some dust had flown into my eyes.

Richard, worried, raised a hand and gently dabbed at my tears with a tissue.

I closed my eyes.

And somewhere deep inside, a decision — hard, brittle, and final — crystallized.

No more pink bears. No more Uncle Cassian.

When he saw me move every last thing out of his house, would he — even for a moment — feel a flicker of regret?