Since I promised Mirelle Lynwood I'd take good care of Hudson, I still went to the market. Mirelle was Hudson's elder sister. She grew up with us in the orphanage, but her life ended at 23.

It happened when she was working part-time at a bar. The owner drugged her and assaulted her.

When Mirelle called, Hudson and I ran out of class without a second thought.

On the hotel bed, Mirelle lay there in her birthday suit, broken. Blood poured from between her legs and wrists, staining everything in crimson darkness.

I quickly grabbed the blanket, hands shaking as I covered her up. I could feel my heart racing as I held her, and I could feel her slipping away.

"Jovi, I won't be able to protect you anymore. I can't bear the thought of leaving Hudson. Please… take care of him for me. Hudson, I know how you feel about Jovi. Be nice to her, or I won't be able to rest even after I'm gone."

I saw Hudson's bloodshot eyes, which were filled with rage, and his fists were clenched so tightly his veins bulged.

Mirelle died in the prime of her life, and the one who did it was untouched, as he was backed by power.

Hudson and I leaned on each other and worked part-time jobs to pay our tuition. We worked even harder than before.

I never forgot what Mirelle told me before she closed her eyes—she asked me to take good care of Hudson. I came back from the market with Pixie and started cooking right away.

"Hudson! Hudson!" Pixie chirped the moment it saw Hudson. I didn't miss the flicker of warmth in his eyes.

"Hudson, do you remember Pixie?" I thought.

When he was preparing to apply for university, he spent a whole month's living expenses on a parrot at the bird market. He was afraid he wouldn't have time to be with me.

"Hudson, do you remember that month? We lived off discounted buns and couldn't even afford other food," I mused.

"Liar. Hudson is a liar," Pixie said again, and I was too focused on cooking to notice Hudson's gaze turning ice-cold.

That afternoon, I went back home to get Pixie's food and things.

"Pixie?" I called as soon as I opened the door. Strangely, there was no reply. I rushed in without even taking my shoes off and found Pixie's cold little body lying in the cage.

Panicking, I reached in to touch it. It was stiff. My mind went completely blank.

"Jovi, it wouldn't stop chirping. I thought it was hungry, so I gave it a bit of chocolate and—"

Before Quincey could finish, I slapped her across the face. I had told her how important Pixie was to me. It was like family to me. Hudson rushed out and slapped me right back before turning to look at Quincey.

"Are you out of your mind? Touch Quincey again, and I won't go easy on you," he warned, his voice sharp.

Stunned, I held my cheek and stared at him.

"Hudson, that was Pixie—our Pixie." I searched his face, desperate to find even a shred of sorrow or hesitation, but there was none. He only looked cruel and cold.

When I arrived at Mirelle's grave, I saw gardenias laid in front of the stone. They were her favorite flower, symbolizing eternal waiting.

Was it Hudson? I looked around, hopeful. But there was no one. I was alone and lonely there.

Maybe I was wrong. Hudson was probably off comforting Quincey. I let out a bitter laugh and buried Pixie next to Mirelle.

"Mirelle, look. You're not alone anymore. Pixie's here to keep you company. Don't worry. I'll take good care of Hudson."

I left when the sun went down, and the figure behind the tree slowly stepped out.

When I got back, Hudson wasn't home.

"Jov, Hudson really is Maverick. I know it's hard for you to accept it. But Maverick came back to me. As my best friend, shouldn't you be happy for me?"

With a chuckle, Quincey swirled the wine in her glass and looked at me with disdain. I didn't understand why Quincey had become like this. We got along so well throughout four years of college.

We practically shared everything with each other. And she knew perfectly well what Hudson meant to me.

"Why pretend? If you love Maverick so much, why won't you let go of Hudson? Is it really just because Hudson has Maverick's heart?"

"Jovienne, after all these years, do you still not understand me?"

Quincey let out a long sigh and looked at me regretfully. "If Hudson sees you hurt me, do you think he'll still stay with you?"

As the door lock turned, Quincey smugly smashed her wineglass and picked up a shard to slash her own arm without hesitation. Blood ran down her arm.

Before I could even react, she stumbled toward the door in panic, falling right into Hudson as he came in.

"Hudson, I'll never call you Maverick again. Please ask Jovi not to kill me!"

I hadn't had a chance to explain before Hudson pushed me hard, shielding Quincey behind him. I fell into a pile of shattered glass, my body stained—whether with red wine or blood, I couldn't tell.

"Jovienne, didn't I just warn you?"

The coldness in Hudson's eyes hit me like a gust of icy wind—it was piercing and painful. He didn't spare me a glance as he carried Quincey in his arms and rushed to the hospital.

"Jovi, I won't let anyone bully you!" Hudson's promise still echoed in my ears.

"Hudson, be nice to Jovi." Mirelle's dying wish replayed in my mind.

I stared at the empty room, my body numb to all the pain. In a daze, I staggered out and collapsed into someone's arms just as I was about to faint downstairs.

When I woke up again, I saw Gideon. My injuries had already been treated.

"Jovienne, don't you want to know the truth?" Gideon handed me a folder.

"I'm the Maverick Quincey kept talking about. Quincey loves daffodils the most. She says people should only love themselves. She has a mole on her chest—"

"Stop," I cut him off as I shut my eyes. I knew there was no way Gideon could know Quincey that intimately.

But he kept going, "Back then, Quincey didn't want to make our relationship public, so she made up this Maverick person. She and Hudson have been lying to you all along."