Talia's POV
"Madam... let me take you home," Petro said softly.
"No," I whispered. "Petro... take me to Emily."
I turned my face toward the window as the car moved, watching my parents close the door behind me. I could hear laughter from inside the house. My sister stood beside them—nineteen years old, smiling, carefree.
She is younger than me.
Then what do I lack?
I exhaled slowly and pushed the thought away before it could tear me apart.
We had been driving for nearly thirty minutes. Emily's house wasn't close—but then again, she never lived an ordinary life.
Emily was my best friend. We had been inseparable since high school. She knew more about me than my own parents ever did. She came from a well-known family, powerful and respected—just two or three steps below Ethan's family in status. Yet, unlike them, she had a heart that felt real.
"Petro?" I said softly.
"Yes, madam?"
"Please... keep this a secret. Don't tell anyone I'm here. Tell them you dropped me at a bus stand."
He was quiet for a moment, then smiled gently.
"Of course, madam. I'll keep this secret—for my father's sake. He loved you."
I returned the smile, though sadness filled my eyes.
"Yes... he was the only one who ever did."
My thoughts drifted to Taylor—the man who had been more of a father to me than my own. He passed away when I was fourteen, and with him disappeared the last person who protected me without conditions.
The car stopped.
I stepped out and waved goodbye to Petro as he drove away, leaving me alone with the silence.
A tall black gate stood before me.
A man approached.
"Yes, miss?"
"Hello," I said quietly. "I'm Talia. Could you please contact Emily? She knows me."
He nodded and disappeared inside.
Ten minutes felt endless.
Then the door opened.
"Damn, Lia!" Emily exclaimed, running toward me. "It's been two years!"
The moment I saw her face, my control shattered.
"Oh, Emi..." I cried, my voice breaking. "I missed you so much."
She pulled me into a tight hug.
"Hey... hey... I've got you," she whispered. "What happened?"
⸻
In Emily's room, I told her everything.
Every word felt heavy. Every memory reopened wounds I had never truly healed. She was furious at first—pacing, clenching her fists, cursing under her breath. But slowly, her anger softened into care.
She sat beside me, gently rubbing my back.
"What are you going to do now?" she asked quietly.
I smiled weakly.
"I don't know. Whatever fate decides for me."
She squeezed my hand.
"Just remember this, Lia... you're not alone. I'm always here for you."
We talked for a while longer, until suddenly my stomach twisted painfully.
I stood up quickly and rushed to the bathroom.
I threw up.
But there was nothing—only water.
I stared at my reflection, my face pale, my eyes dull. Confusion wrapped around me tightly. My body felt unfamiliar, like it was carrying a secret I didn't understand yet.
Emily knocked softly.
"Lia... you don't look well. You haven't eaten anything, right?" She paused. "Let me make something for you."
I nodded, forcing a small smile.
Ten minutes later, she returned with a bowl.
"Sorry," she said apologetically. "I can only cook instant noodles."
A faint laugh escaped me.
"It's okay," I said. "This is enough."
I ate four... maybe five spoonfuls.
Then the nausea returned—stronger, heavier.
My chest tightened.
I pushed the chair back and ran to the bathroom again, my heart racing, my hands trembling.
Something was wrong.
And deep inside... I was afraid.