When the car flipped onto its side, the crumpled door pinned my leg and wouldn't let go.

It took nineteen tries before Richard Farley finally picked up the video call.

On the screen, he let out a put-upon sigh.

"Rosamond Winfield, you've already used up your mystery box draws for the month."

"There's thunder outside tonight, and it's got Delilah Swanson's chest all tight and panicky. I know you're jealous, but do you really have to pull a stunt like this to scare people?"

He frowned, and his voice took on the tone of someone handing out charity.

"I'll give you one last chance. If you draw 'Come immediately,' I'll head over right away."

With shaking hands, I reached into the wish mystery box machine and pulled out a folded slip of paper.

I opened it in front of the camera. Written across it, plain as day: 'Emotional Company.'

Delilah, nestled against Richard's shoulder, covered her mouth and giggled.

"Rosamond, this AI thunderstorm-crash background of yours is pretty convincing. Even the blood effects look real. You must have put a lot of work into it, huh?"

Disgust flickered in Richard's eyes as he snapped at me.

"Drawing 'Emotional Company' means it's enough for me to be with you in spirit right now."

"You agreed to play the mystery box game yourself. You bet, you lost. I don't have time for your nonsense."

The call cut off without mercy. Bracing myself, I forced my body up and pried open the machine.

Slips of paper covered the floor. Not one of them said 'Come immediately.'

So it turned out that in this relationship, Richard would never come running to me.

A bitter laugh escaped me, and I dialed a number I hadn't touched in three years.

"That promise you made as a boy, to marry me. Does it still stand?"

...

Two seconds of silence on the other end, then a rush of a voice, thick with feeling.

"It stands, it stands!"

"Two days at the most. I'll finish up what's on my desk and fly home to get you right away."

I hung up, dragged myself out of the wreck, and called 911.

The doctor studied the CT scan, brow furrowed.

"Severe fracture of the right shinbone. The gash on your forehead is too deep. It needs stitches immediately."

"Anesthesia requires a family member's signature. Where's your family?"

Richard didn't answer his phone. Probably busy comforting Delilah.

I wiped the tears from the corners of my eyes, my voice even.

"I don't have any family here. Skip the anesthetic. Just stitch it."

The curved needle went through skin and flesh, and the pain spread through my whole body.

But next to the wound inside me, it wasn't even a fraction of it.

Once the cast was on, I leaned on a single crutch and limped back to the Farley house.

Before my parents died, they entrusted me to Uncle Farley.

My parents' keepsakes were still there, and I meant to take them back myself.

I pushed open the front doors. The living room blazed with light.

My eyes went straight to Delilah.

The cashmere coat draped over her shoulders was the anniversary gift my father had given my mother.

Hearing me come in, she whipped her head around.

Then she pressed a hand over her nose and burrowed desperately into Richard's arms.

"Richard, the smell of blood is so strong. It's making me sick..."

At that, Richard turned too.

He didn't look at my casted leg. He just frowned and stepped in front of Delilah, shielding her.

"Aren't you done playing this car-crash game yet? Smearing yourself with red paint, what do you think you look like?"

He pointed at the rug beneath my feet.

"That rug is new, Delilah just bought it. Stop throwing your tantrum and go back to your room and change!"

The pain was so bad I could barely stand, and the world kept flickering black.

I looked over at the private doctor who'd been taking Delilah's blood pressure.

"Could I trouble you for a painkiller..."

The doctor started to reach for one, but Richard cut in, his voice cold.

"Leave her. Get Delilah some sedatives first."

"She's already been frightened twice. She can't take any more shocks."

I braced myself on the crutch and closed the distance, step by step, toward Delilah.

"Take off the shawl!"

Delilah shrank back, her eyes rimmed red.

"Rosie, I was just cold. I only borrowed it for a—"

"I said take it off."

I reached out to yank the shawl away from her.

But Delilah flinched as if terrified, jerking back hard.

The trim on the shawl caught the corner of the table, and a long tear ripped straight through it.

Richard's face went white, and the instant he'd confirmed Delilah wasn't hurt,

he wheeled on me and shoved my shoulder with all his strength.

"Rosamond, what the hell is wrong with you!"

I'd lost too much blood today. I was already burning with fever.

That shove knocked me completely off balance.

The leg in the cast hit the floor, the bone that had just been set slipped out of place again, and a splitting pain drowned me in an instant.

He came over, grabbed my arm, and tried to haul me up.

"Enough. One little push isn't going to break a bone."

"I don't have the energy for your sob-story act. Get up."

As he wrenched at me, the stitches in the wound snapped,

the skin tore open, and blood ran red across the back of Richard's hand.

His fingers shook violently.

"Rosie, you—"

But just as his fingertips were about to touch my wound, Delilah cried out behind him.

"Richard, the sight of blood makes me faint. I can't breathe—"

The hand he'd reached out froze in midair.

The next second, as if on reflex, he turned and went to Delilah, pulling her into his arms.

"Forget about anyone else, look after Delilah first, she's about to pass out!"

Everyone crowded around Delilah. I lay alone on the floor.

Watching his back, frantic over Delilah, I drifted, and thought of three years ago.

Back then, the outbreak had everything locked down, and I'd burned so high in the middle of the night I was half-conscious.

Richard, his eyes red, ran across half the city, knocking on the door of one clinic after another.

Begging and begging, just to buy me a single bottle of fever medicine.

When he came back, his hands were swollen with cold, and he knelt on one knee by the bed.

"Rosie, please get better. As long as you're safe, I'd trade my life for yours and never think twice."

But the Richard who'd begged for medicine in that snowstorm would never run to me again.

When I woke again, I was already lying in a hospital bed.

My lower leg was back in a cast, and the slightest movement sent pain through my whole body.

"You're awake? Rosamond, yesterday was my fault."

"I honestly couldn't tell you were hurt that badly. I thought you were throwing a fit at me again."

He paused, and his tone slid back into that familiar, self-righteous certainty that the excuse was his to make.

"But you know how it is. Years ago the elevator broke down, and Delilah got claustrophobia saving me."

"She had an attack last night. I was frantic, that's the only reason I didn't see to you."

"You've always been so understanding. Don't be angry with me, all right?"

Hearing that, my stomach churned.

Every single time it was this. He'd bring up the life she'd once saved and use it to justify favoring Delilah without a shred of guilt.

I didn't argue with him. And I didn't grovel the way I used to, didn't say "it's fine."

I quietly drew my hand out of his palm, and Richard visibly froze for a moment.

The door of the ward pushed open, and Delilah walked in with red-rimmed eyes, carrying a soup thermos.

"Richard, is Rosie awake?"

She came to the bedside, looking anxious and ill at ease.

"Rosie, yesterday was my fault. I shouldn't have touched the shawl your mother left behind."

"I blamed myself all night and couldn't sleep, so first thing this morning I made soup to make it up to you. Won't you have a little?"

She held the scalding soup out toward me as she spoke.

Steam boiled off the surface, and I flinched back on instinct.

Then he cried out, his wrist turned, and the whole bowl of hot soup spilled across his own arm.

Delilah cupped her red, swelling hand and wept like a spring rain on pear blossoms.

"Rosamond, I know you're angry with me, but I already apologized. Why would you shove me…"

The room went silent in a heartbeat. Richard sucked in a sharp breath.

He tended to Delilah's burn in a panic, and when he looked at me, his eyes were full of disgust.

"Rosamond, just how vicious are you?"

"Losing your mind at home yesterday was one thing, but Delilah brings you soup out of kindness, and you throw it in her face."

"Her hand was hurt years ago saving me. Won't you be satisfied until you've crippled her!"

Pain broke me out in a cold sweat all over, and the anger I'd been holding down finally slipped loose.

"Richard, I can barely sit up. How exactly am I supposed to shove her!"

He wouldn't hear a word of it, looking down at me from where he stood.

"If you didn't push her, then what, she poured hot soup on her own hand?"

"I don't want to fight with you. Apologize to Delilah right now, and we'll put this behind us."

"Bow your head and admit you were wrong, and I'll make an exception this month. Five extra draws on the wish mystery box machine."

At the words wish mystery box, I couldn't hold back a scornful laugh.

Six months ago, when Delilah came home sick, Richard made repaying her his reason to be at her side every single day.

I could count on my fingers the times I got to see him, until I finally broke down and made a scene.

That was when he came up with the wish mystery box. I still remember the way he coaxed me so gently.

"Delilah did me a kindness. I have to take care of her. But this really isn't fair to you."

"From now on, five draws a month. All kinds of rewards inside. Whatever you pull, I'll do for you."

"I promise I'll make good on it. That works, doesn't it?"

But those hundreds of little paper twists were all meaningless scraps.

"Rosamond, what's so funny?"

Hearing me laugh, Richard's brow furrowed.

"Five extra draws is already the limit of what I'll tolerate. Don't push your luck."

I watched him quietly, my gaze drifting to Delilah in his arms.

"Richard, I'm not drawing anymore."

Richard froze for a moment, as if it hadn't registered.

"What did you say?"

"I said, I'm never drawing from that wish mystery box machine again."

"Since Delilah burned her hand, you go take good care of her. There's no need to come see me anymore."

Richard's face darkened.

"If you won't take the way out I'm giving you, then don't ever dream of me indulging you again."

He steadied Delilah carefully and walked her out.

She glanced back at me over her shoulder, a flicker of triumph in her eyes.

Their voices faded down the hall, and the room sank back into dead silence.

The phone by my pillow suddenly lit up.

【I land at seven tomorrow night. I'll come to the Farley house to pick you up.】

The next afternoon, before the IV had finished dripping, the phone at my bedside buzzed.

It was Mavis Chavez, the Farley family's housekeeper.

She kept her voice low on purpose.

"Miss Winfield, you'd better come back right away. Miss Swanson just went into your room, saw your mother's memorial tablet, and fainted from the fright."

"Mr. Farley flew into a rage, said it was terrible luck and wanted to throw the tablets out."

My head roared. I yanked the needle out of the back of my hand and dragged my broken leg toward the door.

I pushed the door open to find the housekeeper holding a garbage bag, about to pull it down over my parents' memorial tablets.