Chapter 2
Henry glanced at the door, then back at me.
In that moment, he made his choice without even thinking, "Nina, go to your room."
That one sentence was even uglier than the note in the order history.
I stayed put on the couch. "Why?" I asked.
Henry spoke in a hushed tone, "Olivia doesn't know you're here today. She's sensitive. Don't let her get the wrong idea."
My throat felt raw, like I'd swallowed sandpaper, "Misunderstand what?
"Is she supposed to think you have a girlfriend, or is she supposed to realize she's sitting in the seat that was meant for your girlfriend, for me?"
His face fell.
The doorbell rang again.
Olivia chuckled softly from outside. "Henry, you're not hiding someone from me, are you?"
Henry's lips pressed into a thin line, like he couldn't hold it in anymore, "Nina, don't start."
Back then, whenever we fought, these two words from him would make me go quiet.
Because he really knew how to look after people.
When my stomach was acting up, he'd get hot porridge delivered to me in the middle of the night.
When I was freaking out before my grad school interview, he'd stay on the phone with me, helping me review until sunrise.
He was never lacking in gentleness.
But his care always had a ranking.
Olivia was always his top priority, and I was the backup, someone he could make do with when it was convenient.
"Open the door," I said.
I closed the laptop and stood up.
Henry didn't move.
"Nina," he said.
"Aren't you worried she'll get the wrong idea? Then tell her the truth," I replied.
There was a brief silence outside.
Then, Olivia's voice softened.
"Nina's here too?" she asked.
Henry's frown deepened, so he finally went to open the door.
Olivia stood in the doorway, draped in a beige knit cardigan, holding a box of pies.
Her smile didn't waver when she saw me, but her eyes swept over my suitcase and then landed on the laptop sitting on the coffee table.
"Did I come at a bad time?" Olivia asked.
She was all courtesy, but her foot was already over the threshold, stepping right in.
Henry took the bag from her with practiced ease, like he'd done it a hundred times before.
"No, perfect timing," Henry said.
Perfect timing, huh.
Those words sent a chill through my stomach.
As Olivia changed her shoes, she glanced down at the new slippers by the door and smiled.
"Henry, didn't you say these were for me?" she asked.
Henry paused.
I looked down.
The slippers I was wearing were the ones he'd handed me thirty minutes ago.
He said they were the only new pair he had.
Olivia bent down to take off her shoes, showing a pale brace around her ankle.
"It's okay, I can use the old ones. Nina came all the way here," Olivia said.
Every word was polite, but each one reminded me I didn't really belong.
Henry immediately turned to me.
"Nina, give her the slippers. Her ankle's hurt," he said.
The lights in the room were so bright.
So bright, I could see in his eyes that he expected me to go along with it, like it was a given.
"I came from the station, my shoes are soaked," I said.
"Her ankle still isn't better," Henry replied.
He didn't hesitate for a second, as if he'd sorted out everyone's priorities long ago.
Olivia leaned against the doorframe and spoke softly. "It's fine, Henry. Don't fight because of me."
But she stayed right where she was.
My toes curled in the slippers, a chill creeping up from the floor.
My phone buzzed again.
It was a message from my advisor.
She texted: [Nina, the recommendation spot for the Kingston University joint project will be confirmed tomorrow morning. Make sure to send me your final thesis. Don't let anything go wrong.]
Henry glanced at the screen, looking a bit more relaxed. "Finish your thesis first. Don't let your mood mess up what really matters."
Olivia sat down at the edge of the couch, picked up the pie, and took a small bite.
She looked up at me, her smile so sweet it made my skin crawl, "Nina, don't blame Henry. He's really good at looking after people.
"People aren't all the same, you know. Some need to be looked after, and some are built tougher."
Henry stayed silent.
He placed the old slippers at my feet.
"Switch," he said.