Eugene’s face was pale.

“Zee, don’t scold Wallace. It’s me—I shouldn’t have moved in and disturbed you. He’s only upset because he cares about you. Me? I’m just a burden.”

“How could you be a burden? You’re my little brother!”

Suddenly, a sharp pain throbbed in my temple.

No matter how many times I witnessed their sibling-like bond, I only found it irritating and nauseating.

Unexpectedly, a hand pressed against my door.

“Wallace, apologize to Luigi!”

I couldn’t hold back anymore.

“He hit himself, and I have to apologize?”

Zelda snapped back, “Luigi wouldn’t lie to me. Are you really the kind of man who can’t own up to what he’s done?”

I let out a cold laugh.

She would always believe only what she wanted to believe.

Her dear little brother pretended to mediate from the side.

“Please don’t fight because of me. I’m sorry, I hurt myself…”

Zelda held Eugene’s hand but glared at me.

“I never realized you were this kind of person before. A man like you honestly disgusts me.”

Her gaze was like a blade, cutting deep into my heart and making it bleed.

In the end, I didn’t apologize. I never would.

Eugene kept complaining about his waist hurting, so Zelda had no choice but to help him downstairs.

Watching their retreating figures, I suddenly remembered—I needed to go to the hospital too.

I hadn’t been sleeping well.

I didn’t even know when it started, but sleepless nights had become my norm.

I’d tried all kinds of home remedies, and when none of them worked, I finally decided to see a doctor.

There weren’t many people at the hospital today, so I got my prescription quickly.

On my way down, I spotted Zelda and Eugene.

Not that it was surprising—this was the closest hospital to home.

Zelda’s sultry figure was pressed tightly against Eugene, one hand holding his waist, the other carrying a bag of medicine.

She drew plenty of envious stares from men.

“What are you looking at?!” A pregnant woman, seeing her husband eyeing Zelda, pinched him in jealousy.

Eugene looked embarrassed, but Zelda remained completely unfazed.

We ran into each other at the elevator.

I said nothing, but Eugene instinctively put some distance between them.

His face was slightly red.

“Wallace might get jealous if he sees.”

Zelda frowned. “You’re injured. How can you walk without support?”

Then, out of nowhere, she turned to me.

“Why are you here? Are you sick?”

I showed her the medicine.

“Just insomnia.”

She hesitated for a moment.

“I’ll ask my assistant to buy some lavender for you. You can put it in your bedroom.”

She wanted to say more, but Eugene interrupted.

He started complaining about his waist again, looking more pitiful than someone who’d actually been stabbed there.

The elevator descended steadily—until suddenly, with a loud boom, it came to an abrupt stop.

The lights went out.

“Ah!” Zelda let out a startled cry.

She was afraid of the dark. She had claustrophobia.

My heart clenched. I called out instinctively, “Zelda! Zelda, are you okay?”

She trembled and gave a soft “Mm.”

In the darkness, I heard the rustling of fabric.

“Zee, hold me tight. Don’t be scared.”

“Luigi…”

A man’s gentle voice comforting her.

I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly.

There had been another time, long ago, when Zelda and I got stuck in an elevator together.

The lights had suddenly gone out, and the elevator had stalled between floors.

She had trembled uncontrollably, her body drenched in cold sweat.

Zelda rarely lost composure in public, but that time—she had buried herself in my arms and refused to let go, clinging to me like a needy kitten.

But now, she didn’t need me anymore. She trusted Eugene without hesitation.

I could still remember the softness of her in my arms.

But she shattered that memory with her own hands.

“Luigi, as long as you’re here, I’m not afraid of the dark anymore.”

I had no idea how much time passed, but eventually, the lights flickered back on.

The elevator descended normally.

As soon as it reached the first floor, I staggered to my feet and rushed out.

I drove straight home.

Mom had sent me a list of wedding venues to choose from, but I wasn’t in the mood to pick any.

I just sat there, quietly watching the clock hands move.

I don’t know how long it was before Zelda came back.

She brought a bundle of lavender and some food.

I opened the container—it was baked Ziti.

Zelda had forgotten that I was allergic to gluten.

Yet she still apologized with a self-satisfied air.

“See how much I care about you? I even remembered that you hadn’t eaten. Hurry up and eat it while it’s warm!”

I removed the lid and ate all of it.

Almost instantly, rashes broke out on my skin.

“Oh no, how did you have an allergic reaction?”

Zelda covered her mouth in surprise.

But I didn’t care.

“Your birthday’s coming up. Come back. Let’s celebrate it together.”

She froze for a moment, and then she quickly nodded.

I got up and went to find my allergy medicine.

As a busy man, I never really learned how to cook properly.

The only dessert I can bake decently is cupcakes.

But for some reason, every attempt I made today failed.

I didn’t want to waste food, so I silently ate all the failed cupcakes.

I counted the time.

Once Zelda came back and finished celebrating her birthday, it would be time for me to leave.

But in the end, I didn’t get to wait for her.

She called me.

“Luigi, that idiot, burned his fingers while cooking. I have to take him to the hospital first. You go ahead and eat without me.”

Oh, her lies had always been really terrible.

I couldn’t see her updates on my main Facebook account.

But on my alternate account, a new post appeared in her Story.

The picture showed two people standing in front of a cake.

Colorful confetti floated in the air, frozen in a moment where they smiled and held hands.

“Wallace? Wallace?” Zelda was still on the line.

I let out a long breath.

“It’s fine, no rush.”

I liked her post from my alternate account, and then I dumped the cupcakes into the trash.

Zelda no longer loved me; letting her go should make her happy.

So then I dragged my suitcase and left the house.

On the way, I sorted through years’ worth of confusing photos of Eugene and Zelda.

Then I posted them to my Story.

Plenty of their mutual friends would see those pictures. If I was leaving, well, I wouldn’t let them have it easy either.

Before my flight took off, I sent Zelda a message.

[Happy birthday. Let’s never meet again.]

I didn’t say we were breaking up.

Because in our seven years together, she had never once introduced me as her boyfriend.

Getting cheated on was just what I deserved—blindly clinging to someone who never wanted me.

Right before I turned off my phone, an onslaught of calls came flooding in, and I accidentally answered one.