Chapter 3

By mid-morning, Chloe FaceTimed me.

When I answered, she was trying on clothes in the master bedroom of the new house.

Her dresses were piled on the bed, her jackets hanging in the closet.

My bridal storage boxes had been shoved into a dark corner.

She panned the camera around. "Eve, I stayed over last night, and honestly, this mattress is heaven. But the master closet is a bit small. I have so much stuff, so I might need to take a few of your shelves."

My eyes fixed on the vanity behind her.

I had custom-ordered that vanity to the exact dimensions so it could hold the jewelry box Mom passed down to me.

Now, it was cluttered with Chloe's makeup and skincare products.

"Who told you that you could sleep in the master bedroom?" I asked evenly.

Chloe blinked, taken aback.

"Julian said you were busy these days and wouldn't be staying here anyway, so I could test it out for fumes and air quality first."

As if remembering something, she added in a sweet voice:

"Come on, Eve, don't look so serious. I’m doing this for your own good."

*For your own good.*

Those words buzzed in my ears.

My whole life, whenever people took something from me, they loved saying it was for my own good.

When Mom made me give my new dresses to Chloe, she said I was the older sister and old clothes looked fine on me.

*For my own good.*

When Julian gave away the movie tickets he promised me to Chloe because she was sad over a breakup.

*For my own good.*

Now, before I even moved into my marital home, my sister was sleeping in my bed, using my vanity, and filling my closet.

And that was supposed to be *for my own good* too.

I asked quietly, "Chloe, do you honestly believe this is my home?"

She frowned. "Eve, why are you being so weird? Once you and Julian get married, of course it's your home! What's the big deal if I stay for a few days?"

"Then why didn't you stay in the guest room?"

Chloe’s patience finally snapped.

"The guest room is tiny and faces north! I can't sleep well there. Seriously, Eve, are you really doing this? You've always let me have things. Now you're picking a fight over a bedroom?"

I closed my eyes.

So to her, every sacrifice I’d made over the years wasn't love. It was my obligation.

I hung up.

Then I opened my laptop and exported every single bank transfer, appliance receipt, furniture order, and designer chat log.

Total: $112,650.

It wasn't just a cold number.

It was a whole year of buying no new clothes, canceling trips with friends, answering customer service messages about lighting dimensions at two in the morning, and pacing an empty apartment with a tape measure over and over.

I didn't cry. Crying wouldn't cure their favoritism, nor would it stop a man who took my sacrifices for granted day after day.

I was taking back what was mine.

That afternoon, I met with a lawyer.

After reviewing the contracts and transaction records, he asked, "Are you certain you want to call off the engagement?"

"Julian's family is well-off. If they settle, you might get the money back quickly. But you share a lot of mutual friends and family, so they will likely pressure you socially."

"Your sister has physically stayed in the apartment. If she claims she was just temporarily crashing as family, public opinion might not be on your side."

"And your mother..."

He trailed off.

I looked down and gave a dry smile. "My mom will tell me to suck it up."

He reminded me, "You two haven't signed the marriage certificate yet, and your name isn't on the deed. We can reclaim the renovation expenses through transfer memos and an agreement, but the process won't be easy."

"I’m not afraid," I said.

I had been walking the hardest road for years anyway.

When I walked out of the law firm, Julian finally called.

I answered.

His voice sounded weary. "Eve, what has gotten into you these past two days? You're ignoring the group chat and not calling me."

Standing by the curb, I watched the endless stream of cars pass by.

"Julian, do you know what day today is?"

The line went silent.

"What day?"

I let out a quiet breath.

Today was our five-year anniversary.

It was also the day he had promised, a year ago, that we would go pick up our wedding bands together.

I had scheduled the appointment myself.

I had chosen the rings myself.

All he had to do was show up and hold out his finger for sizing.

Yet he had forgotten.

I didn't bother reminding him. I only asked:

"Will you come pick me up for the housewarming party?"

When I asked that, I already had zero expectations.

I just wanted to see if, for the very last time, he would remember on his own that I needed to be picked up.

Julian’s tone softened slightly. "Of course. Stop throwing tantrums. Friends and family will be there, so give me some face, okay?"