2: 2

I got home worn out, my bag still hanging from my shoulder.

The first thing that reached my ears was Janet's laughter, bright as a little bell.

She was wearing my sexy pajamas, tucked into Paul's arms, scrolling through job listings on the iPad, thoroughly enjoying herself.

The neckline dipped so low that even from across the room I could see the faint curve of her.

Paul frowned when he heard me come in.

"You're back? Janet just couldn't decide what job to pick, so I'm helping her sort it out."

So it turned out sorting out a career plan could nearly end up in bed too.

I couldn't be bothered to waste my breath. I just nodded and went into the bathroom.

Even if the two of them crossed the line tonight, I wouldn't ask a single question about it.

Paul's eyes went wide. He clearly hadn't expected it.

That I would watch the two of them carry on so calmly, like some outsider who had nothing to do with any of it.

Janet's face crumpled at once, and she looked up at Paul, eyes rimmed red, careful and timid.

"Paul, is Lavinia mad at me? I didn't mean to."

Paul pinched her cheek, his voice full of doting affection.

"She's just got a sour face, always has. It'd be weird if you noticed anything else. Ignore her. Let's keep picking your job."

Janet whined, unconvinced.

"I told you not to pinch my cheeks, they'll get all puffy!"

The two of them started 'wrestling' on the couch.

By the time I'd finished my shower, Janet had already worn herself out and passed out asleep in our bed.

Sprawled out without a care, more like the lady of the house than I was.

Paul lay beside her, patting her the way you'd soothe a child.

Humming a tune under his breath.

When he saw me come in, he shot me a hard glare and pointed at the mat in the living room.

"Go sleep out there. Don't disturb Janet."

I had no objection to that. But when I reached for a pillow, he slapped my hand away, hard.

"There's only one pillow. If you take it, what's Janet supposed to use?"

I sighed and gave up, resigning myself to the mat in the living room.

The air went eerily, deathly still.

I heard the man walk slowly over to me, and then his voice came, sudden and cold.

"You're just angry I didn't make you a plan, aren't you? Here."

The words landed, and so did the folder, slammed down hard against my head. Blood ran out in an instant.

I clutched the cut on my forehead against the sting and looked at the few flimsy sheets inside the folder.

Like some absurd mockery aimed straight at me.

I didn't dare put it off. I opened it, terrified Paul would call me sour-faced and ungrateful.

There was only a single line on it.

【*Education too low, ability too poor, unfit for any real responsibility. The best path forward is factory work.*】

A single line — and it nailed me to a pillar of shame, wiping out every ounce of effort and hard work of my four years in college.

It wasn't that Paul didn't know how many times I'd come in first, how many scholarships I'd won.

He just kept pretending he didn't, chipping away at my confidence, time after time.

When I happily told him my innovation-and-entrepreneurship team had placed, he scoffed and called it childish.

When I scored a perfect mark and ranked first overall, he'd insinuate that I must have pulled some strings.

Even when I got the spot to study abroad, all he could say was that giving it to me was a waste.

Back then I'd told myself he was all bark and no bite, that maybe deep down he actually thought I was amazing.

But watching him lay out a career plan for Janet down to the smallest detail, praising Janet, who'd been a terrible student, as clever, even introducing her to every connection he had around him.

That was when it finally hit me.

He had never loved me. He had never planned me into his future at all.

Paul watched me, taunting, as if he wanted my anger to give him a little jolt of pleasure.

But I didn't give it to him. I only nodded, flat.

"That's actually a good suggestion. I'll go see if there's a factory that'll take me."

With that, I turned over, lay down on the mat, and closed my eyes to sleep.

One bland, offhand line, and it landed like a bucket of cold water, dousing his expectations completely.

I heard the man grind his teeth in fury.

"Fine. You're born to slave away your whole life anyway. Days on the factory floor, and at night you come back and do my laundry and cooking. Perfect."

He spat it out, then spun around and slammed the door hard.

In the dark, I curled the corner of my mouth into a cold smile.

What he didn't know was that in a week I would be gone, gone from his world for good.

3: 3

The next morning I got up early and went to campus to pick up my diploma.

On my way out, I found the two of them tangled together, naked.

I didn't disturb them. I just pulled the bedroom door shut for them.

The place I'd be studying was Southport, which happened to be where my aunt lived too.

When I gave her the good news, she was so happy she nearly jumped out of her chair.

She promised to handle everything for me there, housing and transportation and all of it, and then she told me a piece of good news of her own.

"That childhood sweetheart of yours, Corey Sanchez, the one who moved away and transferred schools back then? He's here too, and he's an executive now!"

I was stunned. Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined he would be there too.

In my memory, he had a clean, handsome face and a presence that stood out.

Back when I was a teenager and my heart first stirred, I really did catch myself blushing when I looked at him.

Thinking about seeing him again, I felt my face go warm all over again.

Once my aunt finished chattering, she sent me his contact information.

After we added each other, Corey and I fell back into an easy familiarity.

"When you get to Southport, your aunt and I will come pick you up together. Don't worry about anything here, just leave it to me."

Reading his message, I felt something in my chest loosen.

After thanking him, I started looking forward to my brand-new life, only days away.

Everything there would be fresh, no people or problems to trouble me. I could start over there.

Buoyant, I spent the next few days packing at home.

Paul didn't notice a thing. As if to punish me for not knowing my place, he stopped coming home.

He thought that was a punishment for me. He had no idea how much I enjoyed the peace.

All those days, Janet's posts kept updating too, showing off how her genius upperclassman was taking her sightseeing everywhere.

Every time, I quietly hit the like button, then watched my things get carried out piece by piece, filled with the sweet relief of finally getting free.

Watching the mover handle my boxes roughly, knocking into my study-abroad documents by accident, I couldn't help scolding under my breath.

"Careful there, that one's important!"

The words were barely out when Paul suddenly walked in, arms full of bags, his face startled.

"What's important? What are you doing?"

Then he looked around the emptied-out living room, more shocked still.

Not letting anything show, I stepped in front of the packages and brushed it off. "It's nothing. My dad came in from back home to see a doctor, so I rented a place to stay with him. I'm moving my things over there first."

He looked at the luggage, a little puzzled, but nodded and didn't press.

I laughed at myself. It seemed he still hadn't taken a word I said to heart.

My father had died long ago. How could he possibly come looking for me?

But Paul didn't care about me, and he certainly wasn't going to care about the lie I told.

He opened his bag and set an unappetizing-looking bowl of shrimp porridge in front of me.

"You've been moving stuff all morning, you must be hungry. I brought this specially for you, hurry and eat it while it's hot."

But I didn't pick up the spoon. I only looked at him steadily. "Paul, I'm allergic to shrimp. You don't know that?"

Besides, one look at the bowl and you could tell it was someone else's leftovers.

Paul's hand paused over his own porridge. Forcing down the guilt in his eyes, he snapped at me, "An allergy won't kill you. Can you stop making such a fuss?"

I didn't argue. I just went to the kitchen and cooked myself a bowl of noodles.

Paul sat alone at the dining table, waiting for me to back down, the way he always did.

Every fight before this, he'd freeze me out until I was the one to apologize first and end it.

But this time I wasn't going to apologize, and I certainly wasn't going to turn back.

I'd made myself a bowl of birthday noodles, and it wasn't until I carried them out that Paul realized, belatedly, that today was my birthday.

He cracked a smile and rushed to take the bowl and set it on the table.

"It's your birthday today, I was so busy I almost forgot. Why didn't you say something sooner?"

I let out a cold little laugh. The huge calendar hanging in the living room still had it marked, in his own hand.

"Today is Lavinia's birthday. I'll spend it with her my whole life. We'll be happy forever!"

Back then he'd promised me so earnestly. "Lavinia, I'll never forget the promises I made you, not for the rest of my life. You're my one and only little princess."

But now he'd not only forgotten, he'd pinned all the blame on me.

Seeing my face stay so calm, he looked a little embarrassed and reached for my hand. "Lavinia, I really didn't mean to. I admit I've been ignoring how you feel lately. How do you want to make your birthday up? I'll do whatever you say."

The old me would have gladly forgiven every wrong he'd ever done. But now there wasn't a shred of expectation left in me.

I only counted down quietly in my heart. Three more days, and I could leave him for good.

Let that last make-up gift be the period at the end of our four tangled years.

I thought about it for a long moment, then said flatly, "Then let's ride the Ferris wheel once."

The Ferris wheel had been the site of every tender, heart-swelling date since we got together in college. It was the witness to our love.

Where it began was where it would end.

Paul agreed happily, hope glinting in his eyes. "Yes, of course, it really has been ages since we rode it. Don't worry, I'll give you a memory you'll never forget."

I only nodded and turned back to packing the last of my things.

He must have sensed something off in my mood and wanted to say more, but a ringtone cut him off.

The next second he hurried out, without so much as a goodbye.

I finished the bowl of birthday noodles in silence. My phone lit up with an eighty-thousand-dollar transfer from Corey.

"Happy birthday, my Princess Lavinia."

But I would never accept it again.

4: 4

With one day left on the countdown, Paul finally remembered I existed.

He deigned to send me a message:

"Lavinia, one o'clock this afternoon, under the Ferris wheel in Northbrook. Don't be late."

I looked around his empty apartment, as if I had never belonged here at all.

I replied with a single "okay," ready to put an end to all of it.

But when I got there, he was nowhere in sight. What I saw instead was Janet, happily posing for photos.

She saw me walking over and lifted a bright smile.

"Lavinia, are you here to see my bridal shoot too?"

"Paul is really something. He said he wanted to surprise me, and then he went and called you here on purpose. So embarrassing!"

A bridal shoot? The two of them were getting married?

My mind went blank, but I held onto my smile and offered her my congratulations.

"So that's it. Then I really do wish you the best."

Janet smiled sweetly, but the venom in her eyes seeped out as she gripped my arm and hissed through her teeth.

"You think Paul likes you? He's already slept with me more times than I can count. You're just an ugly nobody who can't hold onto a man."

I had no intention of arguing, but she shrieked and threw herself backward.

"Lavinia, why did you push me?"

The next second, a hard slap came flying at me.

I cupped my swollen, stinging cheek, looked up at Paul's furious face, and understood that Janet had staged all of it.

"Why did you push Janet? What a vicious heart you have!"

With that, he scooped Janet up in his arms, aching with concern for her, and hurried off without sparing me so much as a glance.

I let out a bitter laugh and dialed Corey.

"Everything's arranged on my end. My flight's tonight. I'll be there tomorrow."

Corey's voice lifted with excitement.

"Good. I'll be waiting for you here. Don't worry, I've got everything ready for you."

I nodded, at ease, and headed for the airport.

Wheeling my suitcases along, right before boarding, several messages came in from Paul.

"Lavinia, I'm advising you to go apologize to Janet properly. I can pretend none of this ever happened."

"Where are you? Playing blind, ignoring my messages?"

"I'm giving you one last chance. Don't push your luck!"

I didn't reply. I just muted him.

In the last second before I boarded, he went off like a madman, one message after another.

"Lavinia? Why aren't you home?"

"Lavinia? Your dad never came in at all!! You lied to me!"

"Lavinia, where on earth did you go? Answer me now!"

I switched off my phone and looked down at the endless stretch of sky, as if to cast off every last trace of the past.