Chapter 2

Chloe's POV

It was just the two of us on the balcony.

Zachary took two steps forward, biting down hard on every word. "Liam is a lie."

I stayed silent.

"You just couldn't handle the embarrassment, so you pulled a name out of thin air to save face. I get it. I can pretend I never heard any of that nonsense before. Just behave yourself." He pinned me with his stare.

He spoke with utter composure, as if telling me that as long as I bowed my head, everything from the past would be wiped clean.

I looked up at him, studied his face for two seconds, and simply nodded. "Okay."

I agreed so quickly that Zachary was momentarily taken aback.

"Did you hear me clearly? Behave, and stop acting out," he pressed again.

"I heard you loud and clear," I said.

In my previous life, hearing those words would have had me crying with red eyes, asking him what I had ever done that counted as acting out.

Back then, all I wanted was for him to tell me himself, 'You're not acting out.'

Now, I didn't care anymore. However he wanted to see me was fine by me. All I wanted was that plane ticket out of the country.

"I'm going inside. It's cold out here." I slipped my phone back into my pocket and walked toward the door.

After taking quite a few steps, I glanced back over my shoulder.

Zachary was still standing on the balcony, the unlit cigarette clamped between his fingers, his eyes glued firmly to my back.

The family dinner ran late.

Afterward, Mom helped me load my luggage into the car, nagging the entire time. "Move back in with Zachary. It's more convenient, and it's closer to campus."

I stood in the foyer, listening for a bit, before speaking up. "Mom, I want to stay in the dorms."

"The dorms?" Mom paused, surprised. "Why live in a dorm out of nowhere? He has everything you need there."

"The campus library stays open until midnight. It's easier for me to write my thesis."

"You can't write a thesis at home?" Mom handed another bag over. "I'm not comfortable with you staying in a dorm all by yourself."

"I've already handled things on the school's end," Zachary's voice drifted down from the top of the stairs. "She doesn't need to trouble herself over housing."

I clenched my fingers and didn't say another word.

What I wanted was so small—just a bed of my own, a door I could lock myself.

Even something that basic required his approval. The second he opened his mouth, even my own mother took his side.

"See? A place to stay is a place to stay," Mom mediated. "Zachary already sorted it out, so stop being so picky."

Claire came over, linking her arm with mine and affectionately resting her head on my shoulder. "Chloe, I'm two years ahead of you at school. If we live together, I can help you out with your classes."

"Thanks." I smiled faintly and pulled my arm away.

Claire's hand hovered awkwardly in the air for a second, but she smoothly turned around to help Mom grab her bag, acting as if nothing had happened.

The car pulled up outside their apartment building.

I pushed the front door open, only to freeze right at the entryway.

All the books I used to keep on the shelves were completely gone. The mug I always used had been shoved into the deepest corner of the cabinet.

The shelves were now lined with rows of perfume bottles, and on the nightstand sat a pair of matching couple's picture frames.

Inside the frames were photos of Zachary and Claire.

I had picked that mug out myself the very first day I moved in. I had placed those books on the shelves one by one.

I had lived in this apartment for years, yet wiping away every trace of me had taken them only two days.

Turns out this place belonged to someone else all along. I was nothing more than a temporary guest.

I bent down, dragged my suitcase inside, and leaned it against the wall without bothering to unpack.

It wasn't like I was staying for long anyway.

Over the next few days, I left early in the morning and didn't come back until it was pitch black outside.

Whenever Zachary and Claire were chatting and laughing in the living room, I kept my head down and walked around them.

Once, Claire half-playfully fed a peeled grape to Zachary's lips. I walked past them carrying a glass of water, not even bothering to lift my eyes.

In my past life, a scene like that would have kept me crying all night long.

This time, all I did was quietly count down the days until my flight.

One evening, my period started, and the cramps were so severe I could barely stand up straight. I washed up early and went straight to bed.

Later on, when I went looking for a pen, I pulled open the desk drawer only to find that everything had been rummaged through, completely out of order.

I assumed whoever cleaned the place had messed with it, so I just pushed the drawer shut.

A couple of days later, early in the morning, I slipped on my shoes and was just about to leave when I opened my bedroom door and spotted Zachary sitting on the sofa downstairs.

There were seven or eight crushed cigarette butts in the ashtray. He had clearly been sitting there for hours.

Hearing the door click, he stubbed out the cigarette in his fingers and looked up. "Chloe, have you been giving me the cold shoulder on purpose these past few days?"

My grip on the doorknob tightened.

"No," I said.

"No?" He rose from the couch and walked over to me, step by step. "Then explain to me what this little act is supposed to be."