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.

Richard's face was dark with fury, Delilah clutched against his chest, still trembling.

"Put it down!"

I snatched the tablets back before he could. The lacquer along one edge was already chipped away.

The year my parents were buried, Richard had knelt before these very tablets, his eyes rimmed red, and made a vow.

"Mr. and Mrs. Winfield, I'll take good care of Rosamond. I won't let her suffer a single hurt."

Now he looked at the thing in my arms like it disgusted him.

"Rosamond, the living live in this house. Do you really have to keep dead people's tablets in your room?"

"Delilah's always been timid. She went in looking for something and got so frightened she fainted."

There was nothing of Delilah's in my room.

It was only when I looked up that I saw it. In Delilah's hand was a blessing jade pendant.

It was the one Richard and I had knelt three thousand steps for on our fifth anniversary, bowing our foreheads to the ground at every step to ask for it.

He'd loved it so much he put it on his neck right there.

"Rosie, this is proof of what we have. I'll never take it off, not as long as I live."

And now that pendant was being turned over and toyed with in Delilah's fingers.

She glanced up at Richard, her voice going soft and petulant.

"Richard, the jade's such a lovely color, but this red cord is so tacky."

"Let me go to the mall tomorrow and get you a new chain for it, okay?"

Richard nodded, indulgent.

"Sure. Whatever you want."

A dull ache spread through my chest. I had braided that red cord for him with my own hands.

I looked at Delilah, cold, and she shrank back as if afraid.

Then her hand gave a sharp jerk, and the jade pendant slipped from her fingers.

Eyes burning, I threw myself down on the floor like something possessed, scrambling for the broken jade.

The shards were sharp. One sliced open my palm, and blood welled up in an instant.

Seeing it, Richard hurried to pull Delilah up beside him.

"Delilah, the pieces didn't cut you, did they?"

I lifted my head, my voice shaking.

"We asked for that together."

Richard raised his voice, righteous.

"It's just a worthless rock. So it broke. So what."

"Do you have to make a scene like this over some cheap piece of junk?"

Those three thousand steps. I'd split my forehead open. My knees had been raw, torn to the flesh.

And now, in his eyes, all of it was worth nothing.

I let go, and the bloodied shards fell back to the floor.

Then I braced myself against the coffee table and lifted my parents' tablets into my arms again.

"You're right, Richard. It broke, so it broke. None of it matters anymore."

"I'm taking the tablets. And I don't want you either."

Richard's face froze for a beat, panic flickering deep in his eyes.

"Rosamond, what's gotten into you now?"

"I'm telling you, if you dare pull this running-away stunt today, don't ever think about coming back!"

"I don't believe it. An orphan girl with both parents dead, who else could ever want you!"

I didn't look back. I carried the tablets out into the downpour.

With every step, the broken bone in my shin ground against itself, over and over, the pain so bad I could hardly breathe.

Richard and Delilah stood in the doorway. I could still faintly hear them.

"Richard, where can Rosamond even go, all by herself?"

Her voice was full of concern, but a mocking laugh sat behind her eyes.

Richard let out a cold snort.

"There's barely any money on her card, and she's got nobody. I'll bet she doesn't make it to the front gate before she comes crawling back to make up."

Richard clenched his fist.

"She needs to suffer a little this time. Maybe it'll fix that temper of hers."

I gritted my teeth, pulled off my coat, and wrapped it around my mom and dad's tablets.