Chapter 3

"Don't worry, I'm on my way," Gerard said, his voice filled with concern as he hastily dressed, preparing to leave.

He paused at the doorway, suddenly remembering something.

"What were you going to tell me before?"

But I had already buried my feelings. "It's nothing. We can discuss it when you return."

The following day, I awoke to find his side of the bed untouched.

With my departure looming, I decided to resign from my job. Most of the clothes I'd packed the night before were destined for charity anyway. As I carried the bags out to meet the courier, a commotion across the hall caught my attention.

The apartment was bustling with workers bringing in new furnishings.

Amidst the chaos, I immediately spotted Gerard. He had his arm around Gwyneth, directing the movers as they positioned the furniture.

His meticulous nature was unmistakable.

When we first moved in together, he'd done the same—taking time off to personally oversee everything.

"A home should feel perfect," he'd said then.

Now, our shared space barely showed any signs of his presence.

"Ma'am? Excuse me, ma'am? Your tracking number?" The courier's voice jolted me back to reality.

The noise must have drawn their attention too because as soon as the courier left, Gwyneth came bounding out.

"Hi," she chirped. "I've been having awful dreams, so Gerard bought this place for me. We're neighbors now!"

She leaned in close, exaggerating her wide-eyed, innocent look. Her excessive blinking was almost laughable.

Try as I might, I couldn't bring myself to like her.

As I turned to leave, she suddenly stumbled backward, as if pushed by an unseen force.

She collided with a worker moving a cabinet, her lower back hitting the edge.

"Ouch!"

Her pained cry was filled with tears, and Gerard rushed out at the sound.

He quickly helped her up, gently rubbing the spot where she'd been hit. His worry was palpable.

"Yvaine, stop acting like a jealous child," he said, his disbelief as hurtful as his words.

Gwyneth looked faint and began waving her hands feebly.

"Gerard, don't... don't be angry with her. This... This is my fault," she stammered. "I shouldn't have moved in and caused problems. I just... don't belong here."

"Don't say that," Gerard replied. "You're my sister!"

My head throbbed. Witnessing their "family bond" for the umpteenth time was sickening.

Before I could shut my door, Gerard blocked it. "Yvaine, apologize to Gwyneth!"

I couldn't contain myself anymore. "Why should I apologize for something I didn't do?"

"You've done worse before!" he retorted.

I let out a sarcastic laugh. He always believed what he wanted to believe.

Gwyneth, meanwhile, shook her head like a saint. "Please don't argue because of me. I'm sorry—it's my fault for not standing properly..."

Gerard held her hand and glared at me as if I were the bad guy.

"I can't believe I never saw you for who you really are," he said. "So petty, so cruel—you can't stand even the smallest things."

His words hurt more than I cared to admit.

But I still refused to apologize.

Gwyneth kept complaining about the pain, so Gerard picked her up and carried her downstairs.

As I watched him walk away, I suddenly remembered my own hospital appointment.

I'd been struggling with sleep for ages, unable to pinpoint when the insomnia began.

After exhausting bottles of sleep aids, I finally decided to seek professional help.

The hospital wasn't too busy today, and I received my prescription quickly.

But on my way out, I spotted them again.

It wasn't unexpected—this was the nearest hospital to our place.

Gwyneth was in Gerard's arms, held like royalty, while he carried her medication in one hand. Passersby couldn't help but stare enviously as they walked by.

"Look at her boyfriend," I overheard a pregnant woman say, nudging her partner.