Chapter 2
The same man who, in my last life, slowly suffocated Chloe until she broke.
“You’re back?” His voice was flat, emotionless.
“Robert, this is Jade.”
Mom pushed me forward, a plastered smile on her face.
“Jade, say hello to Mr. Henderson.”
I stepped forward and bowed slightly.
“Hello, Mr. Henderson.”
Robert Henderson turned a page of his book, as if he hadn't heard me.
A few seconds later, he hummed a noncommittal “Hmm” from the back of his throat.
His gaze swept over my wet shoes, and his brow furrowed almost imperceptibly.
“The carpet was just replaced.”
He lowered his head back to his book.
“The first room on the left upstairs is the guest room. It’s ready.”
“Thank you, Mr. Henderson,” I said.
Mom breathed a sigh of relief and pulled me upstairs.
“See? Mr. Henderson is really a good man,” Mom whispered.
“Just don’t upset him, and you’ll be able to stay in this house.”
Inside the room, it was huge and empty.
“Mom,” I called out, stopping her just as she was about to leave.
“What is it?”
“I’d like to change rooms.”
Mom’s face instantly changed.
“Jade, are you being picky the moment you arrive?”
“What’s wrong with this room? It’s a hundred times better than your dad’s dump, isn’t it?”
“Don’t be so ungrateful!”
I calmly watched her outburst.
Only after she finished did I speak.
“No, this room faces north, it’s too cold.”
“I’d like a south-facing one, even if it’s smaller.”
I was truly cold.
The brain tumor messed with my body’s temperature control, leaving me perpetually freezing.
Only sunlight offered me any comfort.
“Cold? Just turn on the AC!” Mom thought I was being unreasonable.
“The south-facing rooms are your Mr. Henderson’s study and a storage room.”
“Then the storage room,” I said.
Mom’s eyes widened.
“Are you crazy?”
“Why would you stay in a storage room when there’s a perfectly good guest room?”
“Are you deliberately trying to make Mr. Henderson think I’m abusing you?”
Her voice grew shrill.
I covered my ears. It was too loud. My brain felt like it was going to burst.
“I’m just cold,” I repeated.
Just then, two light taps came from the doorway.
Robert Henderson stood there, a glass of water in his hand, his expression grim. I didn't even notice him arrive.
“What’s all the shouting about?”
Mom immediately plastered on a different face, her voice trembling.
“Nothing, Robert. This child is being difficult, complaining about the room.”
“I’m about to teach her a lesson.”
Robert Henderson looked at me, and I looked back at him.
His face was very pale, his lips bloodless, looking as if he were about to die.
“Which room do you want?” he asked me.
“The one facing south,” I pointed to the end of the hallway.
“That’s where we store old furniture.”
“It’s fine, as long as there’s sunlight.”
Robert Henderson was silent for a moment.
“Suit yourself.”
“Just don’t shout in the hallway.”
With that, he turned and left, showing no interest in this mother-daughter dispute.
Mom poked my forehead hard.
“Go ahead and make a scene!”
“Staying in a storage room… what will people say about me?”
I ignored her.
Carrying my duffel bag, I walked to the end of the hallway.
Pushing open the door, a cloud of dust greeted me.
But I saw the floor-to-ceiling window.
When the sun rose tomorrow, it would be warm in here.
That was enough.
I made my bed and placed the photo album under my pillow.
My diagnosis was tucked inside the album.
As long as I wasn’t dead, no one would be idle enough to snoop through my things.
That night, I slept soundly.
There were no debt collectors in my dreams, only endless darkness.