The fever hit hard.

I was delirious, every bone aching, shivering under the blanket.

The wind howled outside. In my haze, I dreamed of the past.

I was on Nico's back. "Nico, what if I die?"

He walked steadily, his voice soft. "Don't say that. It's just a fever. You'll be fine after a shot."

"Hey, do you have enough money? Shots are expensive."

"It's fine."

"How can it be fine? How much do you have left?"

He didn't answer. He carried me into the hospital, crouched in front of me, and said seriously, "As long as you're okay, I'm okay."

I was bundled up in a thick coat. "When Mom and Dad stop fighting, I'll ask them for money to pay you back."

Nico touched my hair, his eyes gentle. "Trust me. You're going to be fine."

But I wasn't fine.

The night Nico was sent to the East Coast on family business, I came home and opened my parents' bedroom door.

My father had another woman in his arms.

That was the beginning of my fall.

Then came the screaming fights. Then my father was shot dead by my mother. My home vanished.

Late one night, my family's enemies broke in.

The chandelier swinging. Men's excited shouts. Dull pain on my skin. The sickening feel of hands. My mother's hysterical screaming—all mixed into a boiling, churning mess in my head.

Then time fast-forwarded.

My mother drowned in the bathtub—by their hands.

Chiara found me, half-clothed, and took me far away to the West Coast.

On a rainy day, I sat curled in a hospital corner in a patient gown, my face blank.

"She has a genetic psychiatric condition. Any family?"

Chiara looked at me with worried eyes. "She has a boyfriend. On the East Coast."

"Contact him." The doctor used clinical terms. "She's at high risk for suicide. Treatment will be long and difficult. She'll need someone with her for years."

I was in no state to plan revenge.

Chiara and I were like two stray dogs. We fled everything we'd ever known.

The same day, Nico got the chance to expand into Europe.

He called.

There was wind on his end.

"Valentina," he said, tenderly. "I promise you. In three years, I will marry you."

I watched the iron gate close behind me. There was no way back home.

"Nico… I don't think I can be with you anymore."

I swallowed the sob. Tears fell silently.

He stopped breathing. "Why?"

I opened my mouth. For a moment, I hesitated.

His future was so bright.

And I—parents dead, violated by multiple men.

Would I really chain him to me? Trap him on this gray, rainy coast?

Through a window, a girl cried behind a fence. The boy's face showed nothing but numbness and disgust.

I saw the light die in someone's eyes. It was devastating.

The wind lifted my hair, revealing bruises and bite marks on my neck.

Finally, I wiped my tears and said, "Nico, take care of yourself. We're done."

Beeping. Monitors.

Sunset slipped through the blinds, pooling on the sofa like scattered gold.

I blinked. The nightmare faded. I sat up.

A man sat on the couch, head down, peeling an apple.

Long, pale fingers worked neatly. Soon a perfect fruit appeared.

Clean. Round.

Nico.

He heard me move. Looked up. Without a word, he pressed the call button.

A doctor came, checked my pupils, confirmed I was stable, and said to Nico, "She's malnourished. More protein in her diet."

Nico nodded. "Thank you."

The door closed.

He came to the bed and held out the apple. "Don't think about anything. Just get better."

I didn't take it. I got up and searched the closet.

My phone was gone. No outside clothes.

He let me rummage.

"Nico, what do you want?"

I stood barefoot on the floor. Sunlight fell on the window glass, showing my pale, haggard reflection.

"You know what I want." He put the apple on the nightstand and wiped his hands slowly. "I want you."

He sat right there in the light, his dark eyes fixed on me—hot, humiliating.

I trembled, clenched my fists. "Nico, you can't treat me like this."

He stood and came over in two steps, towering over me. He smoothed my hair.

"Why not?"

"I'm in love with someone else. Please stop."

"Oh, really?" His face was expressionless.

He cupped my face and leaned down, stopping a centimeter from my lips.

I couldn't break free. When I turned my head, I closed my eyes and shivered involuntarily.

Nico laughed. His cold voice slipped into my ear.

"Valentina. You're lying."

The private hospital was in the suburbs, surrounded by endless woods.

I couldn't leave. I couldn't reach anyone.

The doctors and nurses said they were sorry, but their hands were tied.

Nico came every day. Mostly at dusk, rushing in straight from work, and we'd talk.

I kept my distance. He didn't push.

Lately, I'd been dreaming of the past a lot.

Back when I used to say his name all the time.

"Nico, you're going to be the greatest don ever."

He sighed. "What flavor milk today?"

"Banana."

He skipped class for the first time just to buy me banana milk. Got caught.

Later, in college, rumors spread about him and the campus beauty.

I took the subway for over a dozen stops and sat crying under his building.

Nico got out of bed, came downstairs in the dark, and gently wiped my tears. "Stop crying. If you want me, I'm yours."

"Only you from now on."

"That's not how you confess."

He hugged me tight. "I love you."

We never imagined that a decade later, it would come to this.

"Tomorrow, I'm getting married."

The sunset still lingered, warmth fading.

Nico's voice pulled me back. "Is there anything you want to say to me?"

I held my half-drunk milk and looked at his face.

Suddenly I understood why I'd been dreaming so much.

I was saying goodbye to the old Valentina and the old Nico.

On TV, his and Mira's wedding was all over the news.

Golden couple. Perfect match.

That was the future we once dreamed of.

But now? I was sick, broken. Who was I to deserve it?

"Congratulations," I said. "I hope you have many children."

Nico's knife slipped. It cut his finger. Blood welled up.

He blinked, grabbed a tissue, pressed it to the cut, and smiled bitterly.

"It's fine. She and I are just going through the motions. Do you want kids? Boys, girls? How many? I'm good with anything."

"Nico, can't we just let it go?" I felt so tired. "Let's keep some dignity."

He stopped pretending. Threw the apple back into the basket. Stared at me with a mocking smile.

"Let it go?"

"Why?"

"You started this. Then you got bored and walked away clean. What does that make me? A dog?"

I closed my eyes against the sunlight. "Then I'll pay you back."

He went rigid. "What?"

I watched the dying sun. "You want me to suffer? I can die."

He grabbed my chin, forced my face toward him, eyes blazing.

"Valentina, are you sick?"

"If you wanted to die so badly, why didn't you do it back then?"