Her voice was barely a whisper, fragile and pleading in Charles''s ear, "Can you take me home, please?"


    It was like she might break at any moment.


    Charles couldn''t shake the image of her copsing in front of everyone. She looked so helpless, sprawled on the ground, her face ghostly pale.


    His eyes darkened with concern.


    Initially, she wouldn''t even step outside. The fear of judgmental stares was too much for her to handle. But with him, she found the courage.


    It took three months before Dahlia could smile again and live normally.


    "Alright," Charles said, unable to let Dahlia remain there a moment longer. He scooped her up like a princess and carried her out.


    Dahlia leaned against his shoulder, casting a nce at Evelyn. A slight, knowing smile touched her lips. So what if Evelyn was back from the dead? What difference did it make if she left a mark on Charles''s heart? His first choice would always be Dahlia.


    ...


    Mabel looked at Evelyn''s bleeding calf with concern. From a young age, she''d been meticulous about her appearance, never allowing a single w. She thrived on being picture-perfect.


    The sight of a wound that could leave a scar made her frown as if she were facing a fierce adversary. "Evelyn, get to the lounge and take care of that cut."


    The way she said Evelyn''s name was like a friend speaking.


    Evelyn wanted to brush it off as just a scratch, but seeing Mabel''s genuine worry, she didn''t protest.


    "Ms. Mabel, just have a server show me the way. I''ll handle it myself."


    She was the host today, and abandoning her guests wasn''t her style-it would be rude.


    "Alright, call me Mabel," she insisted, not one to beat around the bush. She quickly summoned a server to escort Evelyn to the lounge to tend to her wound.


    Evelyn sat on the lounge sofa,


    waiting for the server to bring a first aid kit. She looked down at the bleeding cut on her leg, and memories swept her back two years.


    During her darkest times, Adam was there. She desperately wanted to pull herself together but kept failing. Adam couldn''t be with her every moment.


    Each time, she promised both him and herself that she wouldn''t give up. Yet, she was always triggered.


    Dahlia and Charles, wrapped up in their sweet romance, were living happily. The very people responsible for Charlie''s death were just fine, while she felt powerless.


    She couldn''t shake the self-loathing.


    Evelyn lost count of how many


    times she picked up a knife and shed at her wrist. When the blood flowed, she just watched, feeling nothing, as if she were numb to the pain. She''d watch it drip to the floor and feel herself grow colder from the blood loss.


    The worst time, she almost didn''t make it. If not for her mother...


    She would have died two years ago.


    "Does it hurt?" Arge hand suddenly gripped Evelyn''s ankle.


    It was Charles. He looked at the small wound, his eyes tinged with pain.


    Evelyn pulled herself from her


    thoughts, slowly lifting her gaze to


    meet his. He was kneeling in front of her, reaching into the first aid kit beside him for iodine to treacher wound.


    Her gaze was icy as she looked at him. Without warning, she kicked him hard in the chest, her voice like ice, "Charles, stay away from me. You make me sick."


    She wished she could kick that heartless beast to pieces.


    Charles''s pupils narrowed. Two years apart hadn''t lessened her hatred one bit. She still despised him.


    Charles took the kick, his body steady, his hand still holding her ankle, his gaze unwavering, "Go ahead, stab me again if it helps. Are you still not satisfied?"