Chapter 2

Before I completely lost consciousness, I called out to Hannah for help.

She stood there, looking at me coldly. "Why do you always bother me?"

Then she stepped over the pool of blood in her high heels and strode away without a care.

In that moment, I truly understood for the first time what people meant when they called Hannah a monster.

Hannah didn't care whether I lived or died.

But she was different with Leo, her young assistant.

Around Leo, Hannah seemed to become normal.

Like a wooden puppet suddenly growing flesh and blood, suddenly having warmth.

At a press conference once, Hannah said, "Leo makes my withered soul grow wild with life."

"Because of him, I can feel that sunlight is warm and flowers are enchanting."

When we got home that day, I questioned her like a madman.

"Hannah, do you even know what you're doing? This is cheating!"

"Jasper, you shouldn't use the word 'cheating' to define my relationship with Leo."

Hannah's expression didn't change.

As she spoke, she didn't even lift her head once, continuing to work on her painting.

The studio was filled with sketches—all portraits of Leo.

Him laughing, him deep in thought, him frowning...

Every stroke seemed to pour out all of Hannah's energy and devotion.

As I left in despair, Hannah called out to me.

"Jasper, you've only ever been a passerby in my life."

"But Leo gives me a soul. He's the wellspring of my artistic inspiration."

Suddenly, I lost all desire to argue with her. Utter exhaustion and powerlessness consumed me.

I finally understood that Hannah wasn't incapable of loving everyone.

I just wasn't the person she was willing to understand or accommodate.

I thought my life was already as desperate as it could get.

But then even my daughter started calling Leo "Dad."

Our daughter, just like Hannah, constantly fawned over and praised Leo.

"Daddy Leo, you're so handsome."

"I wish you were really my dad."

"I don't want a useless father. My classmates all make fun of me."

Even my mother-in-law came to lecture me, telling me I should be grateful.

"My Hannah is the best artist now. You should feel honored to be her husband."

"So what if she doesn't love you? Love doesn't put food on the table."

...

As my memories flooded back, I turned to leave. "Goodbye, you two."

If I could help it, I never wanted to see Hannah again for the rest of my life.

But someone grabbed my wrist.

Hannah stared at me, her eyes full of confusion and bewilderment.

"Why... why are you doing this?"

"Let go."

My voice was cold.

Leo glanced at me, then gently coaxed Hannah. "Hannah, could you let go first?"

But Hannah acted as if she hadn't heard him, her brow furrowed tight.

When she spoke again, her expression was still innocent and clumsy. "Is this because of when you fell down the stairs? But you... you were fine, weren't you?"

I laughed bitterly.

The only reason I was still standing here was pure luck.

I yanked my hand back forcefully and looked at her coldly. "Get lost."

Hannah had never been treated this way by me before.

She looked at me helplessly, clearly not used to it.

Leo stepped forward in time to hold Hannah's hand, saying somewhat helplessly, "Come on, calm down. Hannah doesn't mean any harm. She just doesn't know how to express what she's thinking."

"Don't keep forcing her. Hannah isn't your property."

Hannah nodded, clearly agreeing with Leo's words.

I laughed out loud.

How utterly pointless.

"Goodbye, Hannah."

I waved my hand and strode away.

Hannah stood frozen in place, her fingers trembling unconsciously—a sign she was nervous.

Leo didn't notice anything wrong and gripped her hand tighter. "Let's go, my great artist."

Hannah stared at Leo in a daze.

She tried to ease the discomfort in her chest.

But found she couldn't fill that hollow, lost feeling no matter what.

Hannah wasn't good at conversation and couldn't express her thoughts precisely.

To explain it in terms Hannah understood best—it was like a work she'd poured her heart and soul into had suddenly been destroyed.

It made her heart skip a beat.