Zoe was shoved out the front door.

By now, the sky had gone completely dark. Snow was falling hard, the wind cutting through her even beneath her thick winter coat. The pain in her body only made the cold feel worse.

She hadn’t even gotten up yet when Dylan threw her suitcase out after her.

“Take your stuff and get lost!” he barked.

With a loud thud, the suitcase slammed into her wrist.

A sharp crack rang out.

Zoe let out a scream that cut through the night. “Dylan—it hurts! I think my wrist is broken! And my stomach... it really hurts...”

Dylan hesitated. His brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of uncertainty flashing in his eyes. But his voice remained cold and impatient.

“Oh, stop pretending! I’m not going to feel sorry for you. That suitcase isn’t even heavy. No way it broke your wrist.”

“I swear… it really hurts,” Zoe gasped. Her face was pale, cold sweat dripping down as her entire body seized up.

“I’m not asking for much,” she whispered. “Just… can you call an ambulance for me?”

“Ugh. Quit the act,” Dylan muttered with a sneer. Still, he came down the steps and roughly scooped her into his arms.

“I’ll take you to the hospital. But I’m warning you—if you’re faking, you’ll regret it.”

Zoe could barely speak. Her lips were white, trembling. She managed only a faint “Thank you.”

Dylan shoved her into the passenger seat. As he started the engine, his phone rang. It connected automatically to the car’s Bluetooth, and a syrupy voice filled the car.

“Dylan, I just cut my hand peeling shrimp. It really hurts... can you come kiss it better?”

It was Jenny.

Dylan’s face instantly softened into a smile, his tone warm and doting, like he was comforting a child.

“Just wait for me at home, sweetheart. I’ll be there soon.”

As soon as he hung up, he turned to Zoe, his face going cold again in a heartbeat.

“Get out.”

Zoe looked at him, stunned. “Dylan, please… I’m in so much pain. Can’t you just take me to the hospital first?”

His voice dropped, icier than before.

“Don’t make me say it again.”

Something inside her finally went numb.

“I get it,” she whispered, forcing a bitter smile.

She reached for the door, trying to open it, but her whole body was shaking. Even her good hand had gone weak. She couldn’t move.

All the pain, the humiliation, the exhaustion—it finally spilled over. Her vision blurred with tears as she choked back a sob.

But Dylan had no patience left.

He yanked the door open, shoved her out with force.

“Who are you pretending for now? You think I’m buying this performance? I don’t have time for your drama!”

She wasn’t ready. She hit the icy ground hard, her forehead slamming against the pavement with a sickening crack. Blood poured instantly from the wound.

Zoe groaned, the pain crashing over her like a wave. Cold sweat soaked her back. She tried to sit up, but her body wouldn’t respond. Her vision was turning red.

“Help…” she gasped, barely louder than a whisper.

Dylan glanced at her once, his expression unreadable, then slammed the door and drove off into the snow.

Zoe lay trembling on the ground, tears streaming down her face as the car vanished into the blizzard.

And then—everything went black.

*

In her haze, Zoe began to dream.

She was fifteen again.

It was the day of her parents’ funeral. The snow was heavy, blanketing the world in white. She had cried so hard in front of their portraits that she nearly passed out.

Everything had felt like it was collapsing.

Then, through the falling snow, sixteen-year-old Dylan appeared. He was tall and slender in a black coat. His face was cold, but his embrace was warm.

He had placed a hand gently over her eyes and whispered in her ear, “Don’t cry. Your parents wouldn’t want that.”

Zoe had sobbed, “Dylan… I don’t have a home anymore.”

And Dylan had leaned closer, his voice soft as snow.

“Even an eagle flying high still has a nest. Wherever I am, that’s your home now. Your parents will be watching over you from above—and I’ll be here to protect you.”

Zoe had carried those words with her for years.

But the boy who once promised to protect her had fallen in love with someone else.

And that warmth… no longer belonged to her.

*

The tightness in her chest woke her. She sat up with a jolt, gasping for air.

She was in a hospital bed, still hooked up to an IV. The room was empty.

Buzz...

Suddenly, a phone vibrated on the cabinet next to her. She glanced over—and saw a message pop up on the screen.

It was from Jenny.

“Dylan Xander, what the hell do you mean by this?!”

Zoe stared at the phone for a moment before realizing—it was Dylan’s.

Before she could react, it buzzed again. Then again. One message after another kept lighting up the screen.

“You said you’d stay with me! And now you’re rushing to her just because she got hurt?

“Do you not love me anymore?! Have you fallen for her?!

“You’d better explain, or I swear I’ll break up with you!”

Dylan had come after all.

Zoe’s emotions swirled into a complicated mess.

He was always like this—trying to be cold, but never able to go all the way through with it.

As the messages kept coming with no reply, Jenny must have grown desperate. She started a video call.

Zoe felt a wave of irritation. She wanted to silence the phone but quickly realized she couldn’t move her hand.

Her fingers brushed over the thick layers of gauze, and her expression froze.

No... it couldn’t be...

A nurse stepped in just then. “Miss Stone, you’re awake.”

Zoe sat up quickly. “Nurse, my hand—what happened to it?”

The nurse hesitated, her face tightening with sympathy. After a long pause, she finally said, “Miss Stone, the doctor did everything he could. But… you got to the hospital too late. You missed the best treatment window.”

“So… it’s disabled?”

The nurse chose her words carefully. “You won’t be able to carry anything heavy with that hand anymore.”

Oddly, hearing the truth didn’t shake her. It only confirmed what she had already suspected.

In her past life, Dylan had lost the use of one hand trying to protect her.

This time, she lost one herself. Consider it repayment.

But the nurse wasn’t finished. “Also… because you just had the procedure and then were left in the cold for so long, there’s severe damage to your uterus. You may never be able to have children again.”

Zoe froze, her gaze dropping instinctively to her abdomen.

She stared blankly, as if the words hadn’t quite registered.

No children…?

Once upon a time, that would have devastated her.

Now… it didn’t matter.

She wasn’t planning to get married in this lifetime.

Maybe she wasn’t even capable of falling in love again.

The nurse glanced at her strangely, confused by her eerie calm. Assuming Zoe had gone into psychological shock, she quickly tried to comfort her.

“It’s not definite, Miss Stone. There’s still a chance—”

Clang.

Something crashed to the floor behind them.

A thermos rolled across the tiles, hot soup splattered everywhere.

Zoe looked up and locked eyes with Dylan.

He was standing in the doorway, ghost-white, frozen in place.

He had clearly heard everything.

His eyes trembled, lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something but no words came out.

The nurse glanced between them, then quickly slipped out, leaving the two alone.

The silence in the room was suffocating.

Finally, Dylan spoke.

“I…”

He looked directly at her, struggling for words. After a long pause, his voice cracked.

“I’m sorry.”

His mind was spinning.

He couldn’t stop thinking—

If he hadn’t left…

If Zoe hadn’t been left out in the snow for four hours…

Would the outcome have been different?

But Zoe felt nothing anymore. No sorrow, no anger. Just exhaustion.

She didn’t speak. She simply gave a quiet nod.

Dylan stiffened.

That wasn’t the response he had expected.

He had thought she would seize this chance to guilt him into marriage. That she would cry, plead, use this as leverage.

But she didn’t.

She just looked… tired.

Before he could process what that meant, a sudden voice broke the silence.

“Zoe! Oh my god, what happened?!”

Mr. and Mrs. Xander rushed into the room.

Mr. Xander’s face was dark with worry. “We were gone on a short business trip—how the hell did things get this bad?!”

Seeing their genuine concern, Zoe thought of her past life—of what came after Dylan’s death.

Back then, Mr. and Mrs. Xander had cursed her with the cruelest words they could find.

But she hadn’t blamed them.

Because deep down, she believed it was her fault he died.

Mrs. Xander’s eyes turned red. “Does it hurt?”

Zoe shook her head gently. “Not anymore.”

Mr. Xander turned sharply to Dylan, his tone hardening.

“You’d better explain. What the hell happened? Did you do this to her?”

Before Dylan could say a word, Zoe cut in.

“This has nothing to do with him. I was careless—it was my own fault.”

Dylan froze again, his expression growing even more unreadable.

Mr. Xander wasn’t buying it. “Zoe, stop covering for him. Last time, you begged us not to push him, and now you’re defending him again!”

Zoe only gave a tired smile. “It really has nothing to do with him.”

Mrs. Xander wiped her tears, glaring at Dylan with a mix of frustration and disappointment.

"How did I raise such a blind, foolish son? You treat glass like diamonds and mistake trash for treasure. I will never approve of that girl—Jenny!"

Mr. Xander chimed in, voice firm. "Neither will I. As far as I’m concerned, Zoe is the only daughter-in-law this family will ever have."

Jenny had always been Dylan’s Achilles' heel. The moment he heard that, his eyes reddened with fury.

“Jenny’s a good person! You just refuse to see it!”

“You foolish boy!” Mr. Xander’s expression darkened and then he slapped Dylan hard across the face.

Smack.

Dylan’s head jerked to the side, but he said nothing at first. He stared at the floor in silence for a long moment before turning to Zoe with eyes full of venom.

“Well done, Zoe. Playing the victim. Using every trick in the book—pulling sympathy, staging drama. I’m telling you, I’d rather die than marry you.”

“You ungrateful brat!” Mr. Xander roared, reaching out to hit him again.

But Dylan didn’t flinch. He just glared at Zoe, his stare sharp and menacing.

“Please, Mr. Xander, don’t hit him!” Zoe tried to stop him, but her body wouldn’t respond. In a panic, she slipped off the bed and hit the floor hard.

Thud.

Her forehead slammed into the cabinet. Blood immediately began to seep through the gauze.

“Zoe!” Mr. and Mrs. Xander cried out in alarm, rushing to her side and shouting for a nurse.

Dylan watched the scene unfold with a flicker of shock but in the end, he said nothing. He let out a cold scoff and walked out without looking back.

Zoe watched his retreating figure. Her vision blurred, and everything went black.

*

In the days that followed, Dylan never came back.

Zoe knew he was with Jenny. Just like in her past life, they had moved into a luxury hotel together.

But this time, Zoe didn’t chase after him.

She didn’t beg him to come home.

Instead, she stayed quietly in the hospital, focusing on recovery, counting down the days until she could leave.

Two days before her departure for Backwater Ridge, Zoe was discharged from the hospital.

She politely turned down Mr. and Mrs. Xander’s offer to let her stay, completed the necessary paperwork at school, and headed to the hotel she had booked in advance.

But just as she was about to swipe her keycard, she saw Dylan walking over—his arm wrapped tightly around Jenny.

All three of them stopped in the hallway, staring at each other in surprise.

Zoe blinked. “They’re staying next door?” she wondered.

In her past life, they had stayed at WH Hotel, so she had deliberately chosen a different place this time. Who would have thought they would change plans?

The moment Jenny saw her, she clung to Dylan’s arm, practically burrowing into his chest, her gaze full of smugness and challenge.

Dylan frowned sharply, his voice cold enough to cut bone.

“Are you seriously still following us?”

Zoe ignored him and calmly opened her door.

She had barely set her suitcase down when her phone buzzed.

It was a message from Jenny.

“You really don’t know when to quit. Wasn’t the last lesson enough? You still have the nerve to follow us?

“Let me be clear—Dylan will never marry you. In his eyes, you’re lower than trash.”

Zoe gave the messages a single glance, then closed the app without responding.

Jenny had been sending her messages like that for a long time—especially after Dylan brought her to the hospital that night and didn’t reply to Jenny’s texts.

Since then, the messages had only grown nastier. In addition to verbal abuse, Jenny had started sending twisted photos—some graphic, some disturbing.

Photos of herself and Dylan in bed. Used contraceptives. Torn dresses. Bloodied dolls. dead kittens.

Zoe had saved them all.

She planned to hand them over to Dylan before she left—as a final “gift.”

She would expose Jenny’s true nature.

What Dylan chose to believe after that… was no longer her concern.

*

After a moment of stillness, Zoe took a long shower and went to bed.

In the middle of the night, she woke up drenched in sweat, heart pounding from a nightmare.

Something felt off.

She blinked, dazed, and sat up.

Then she realized—the power was out. The room was completely dark. The outlets were dead.

Just as panic started to rise in her chest, she heard it—click—the sound of a lock turning.

The door creaked open.

A tall, shadowy figure burst into the room.

Zoe’s heart dropped. She let out a scream, but a hand clamped over her mouth before she could finish.

The man let out a low, twisted laugh, then began yanking at her clothes.

Zoe struggled with everything she had, her knee shooting up and landing hard between his legs.

The man cried out in pain and loosened his grip for a second—just long enough for Zoe to bite his hand and tear away from him.

She sprinted for the door, shouting for help.

But he caught up to her in seconds, dragged her back, and slammed her to the floor. He pinned her down, one hand already fumbling with his belt.

Zoe kicked and screamed, but she couldn’t break free. The cold from the floor seeped into her skin as a wave of terror crashed over her.

Tears of helplessness streamed down her face.