Chapter 2

Andrew steadied Emily, then whipped his head toward me and shouted, "Are you out of your mind? Why did you push Emily? Can't you see she's right here? What if she got hurt?"

My eyes welled up as I stared at Andrew, feeling like I didn't even know him anymore.

People really could change.

"Andrew, are you kidding me? That's our cat," I said.

Tears shimmered in Emily's eyes as she bit her lip and tugged gently at Andrew's hand. "Andrew, don't be mad at Charlotte."

She turned to me. "It's all my fault. I just wanted to play with the cat and accidentally got scratched. Andrew was just trying to help. I'm sorry, Charlotte."

Andrew patted her head, as if to comfort her. "It's not your fault. It's just an animal. Don't blame yourself."

Hand in hand, they left the bathroom, leaving me standing there, stunned.

Chubby had only scratched Emily by accident, and they drowned him because of it.

Six years of our relationship couldn't even compare to a girl he'd been sponsoring.

I couldn't hold back my tears and collapsed to the floor in anguish.

After carefully gathering Chubby's little body, I went back to my room, still unable to process what I'd seen.

I opened the door and found the nightstand drawers thrown open, everything scattered in chaos.

I didn't need to think twice to know who had done it.

Exhausted in body and mind, I tried to steady myself and started picking things up when I noticed something familiar in the corner.

Three years ago, my mother had passed away. Most of her belongings had been burned, except for one white T-shirt—a prize from my high school essay competition that she had kept.

It was too large for me to wear, so she had kept it for herself. She always wore it proudly around neighbors, bragging about how exceptional her daughter was.

Now, that shirt was spotted with blood, dirt smeared across it, and my eyes stung as anger ignited inside me.

Andrew pushed the door open, frowning as he saw me frozen in place. "You don't see the mess? Why aren't you cleaning?"

"Andrew, what's with this shirt?" I asked.

"Emily suddenly started her period and got it on the floor. I couldn't find a tissue, so I just grabbed something to wipe it," he said casually.

I slapped him across the face, the pain shooting through my hand until it went numb.

"Are you completely insane?" Andrew's eyes widened, fury flashing in his gaze.

"Yes, I am insane. Andrew, are you even my boyfriend? That was my mother's keepsake," I shouted.

He froze, covering his hand with a blank look, and glanced at me with pursed lips. "I didn't know. It should come out. Just wash it."

Wash it?

Never mind whether it could be cleaned—that was my mother's last memento. I had cherished it carefully, and he had treated it like a rag for wiping menstrual blood.

I had told Andrew about it. Three years ago, when my mom passed, I had carefully carried that shirt inside and told him it was the last thing of hers I had left, something I wanted to treasure.

Had he forgotten? Or had he never even remembered?

I picked up the shirt from the floor, holding it to my chest, a bitter ache rising in my nose as tears fell one by one.

My voice trembled. "Andrew, let's break up."

Two seconds of silence passed, then I heard him snicker. "Charlotte, come on. It's just a shirt. You can buy another one. You chased me back then, and now we're finally getting married—you'd really throw that away?"

"Don't throw a tantrum. Chubby did scratch Emily, okay? Go get another cat. I'll help you buy one," he added.

For a moment, I was lost in a memory of our youth—the two of us sitting by the roadside, a dirty little kitten jumping straight into my lap.

I had frozen in place, embarrassed by his teasing, as he played with the tiny cat.

Time had felt slow that day. I had watched him smile, the cat meowing in my arms, the sky blushed with sunset, even his face tinged with pink.

"Charlotte, let's keep this little cat. He's cute. After work, he'll be waiting at our door, meowing," he had said.

The memories overlapped, but the man in front of me now was unrecognizable.

Andrew's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, then turned to leave.

As the door closed, his voice floated back to me: [Emily needs her rabies shot. She's a little scared I'll stay with her.]