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?"

I don't remember when he left.

That night, his friend Matteo—once mine, too—burst through the door.

"Valentina. What did you promise me?"

I was too stunned to answer.

"Do you know how much Nico is losing by canceling the wedding?"

"You're an adult. Stop acting like you did back then—reckless, always leaving Nico to clean up after you. Think about him for once."

"What happened?"

"What happened?" Matteo laughed bitterly. "Nico is calling off the wedding because of you. That's what happened."

My ears rang. I sat there, blank.

If he canceled the wedding now, what would that make me? A homewrecker?

Matteo dragged me out of bed. "Come on. You were good at this before. Bored, found someone new—pick any excuse. Say it."

"Matteo—"

"Valentina!" He was shaking with rage. "If you hadn't come back, none of this would be happening."

His voice echoed in the wind. I couldn't hear anything else.

The hatred in his eyes was absolute.

As if someone like me deserved to die.

"Matteo, he's the one who won't let me go."

His face hardened. "After this is done, I'll send you away."

Late that night, the family's hearing room was bright with lights.

Matteo dragged me inside.

But the internal hearing had already begun.

Nico sat at the head of the long table, composed.

"We heard the reason for canceling the wedding was a third party," a committee member challenged.

Nico was smooth. "Miss Mira and I had differences. We parted amicably."

Matteo's face was dark. He held my wrist like a vice.

"But sources say you've rekindled things with your first love."

Nico remained calm. "Rumors. If there's nothing else, this meeting is adjourned—"

He stood.

Then someone shouted, "She's here!"

"That's her!"

All eyes turned to me.

I stood exposed, disheveled, horrified.

Family members swarmed around. Within seconds, I was trapped.

Questions flew: "What is your relationship with Nico?" "Did you really break up someone's engagement?"

The noise was overwhelming.

Nico's smile vanished. He pushed through the crowd toward me.

"No." "I didn't."

I tried to defend myself, but my voice was swallowed.

"Fresh evidence!" A captain held up his phone. My voice came out: "Nico, I love you."

Nico's face went pale.

"Isn't that a mistress?" "Shameless."

The whispers hit like slaps.

All color drained from my face. "I'm sorry. No. I didn't. I don't know—"

"Matteo! Get her out!"

Nico shoved through the crowd, panicked.

Everything turned white.

The captain kept reading: "Oh, and I hear your father was shot, your mother killed herself, and you have a serious genetic mental illness—five years in a West Coast mental hospital… Oh my God."

The room erupted.

"Why is a mentally ill person out here causing trouble?" "She's sick." "Why not just die?"

Nico froze. He raised his eyes to mine.

Shock. Disbelief.

I sat helpless in the noise, the blood in my body cooling until I was completely cold.

"Valentina…" He said my name. His voice shook.

I knew what came next. I just waited for the blade to fall and destroy whatever was left of my life.

"She was also sexually assaulted."

Those were the captain's last words.

When Nico heard them, his face went white as paper.