Chapter 1
A severe allergic reaction sent me into anaphylactic shock. I was resuscitated from the brink of death.
When I was discharged, I overheard my fiancé, Leo Reed, speaking in a soft, intimate voice. "Be good, give me one night. I'll show you the finished piece tonight, okay?"
Even though I couldn't hear the voice on the other end, I knew it was Lucy White, Leo's first love, the woman he never forgot.
Lucy was a tattoo designer. To please her, Leo had ignored my severe allergies and used me as a living canvas.
For five years, every tattoo on my body was a mark of Leo's devotion to Lucy.
As his fiancée, I was nothing but a pawn in their twisted game.
Now, having walked back from death's door, I was done being a fool.
Hearing movement behind him, Leo quickly hung up and rushed over.
He didn't ask about my recovery. Instead, he grabbed my arm excitedly and said bluntly, "Mia, I've got a new concept. Let's get back to the studio. Now."
My left hand touched the keloid scars snaking like centipedes across my arm. My right hand clutched the discharge papers warning that another allergic reaction could kill me.
Fighting back tears, I smiled at Leo. "Sure. I happen to have a surprise for you, too."
*****
All the way back, Leo didn't spare me a single word of concern.
He kept both hands on the wheel, eyes glued to the road, going on and on about his new concept.
Even when we stopped at a red light, his fingers danced excitedly on the steering wheel.
He said, "Mia, this time I'm going with white. Imagine an angel with pure white wings. It's all about purity, peace, and serenity.
"This one's a guaranteed win if I enter it in the competition."
I glanced sideways at Leo, his face glowing with excitement. Inside, my feelings were all tangled up.
Five years ago, on a night when rain poured down in sheets, the streets were empty.
Leo crouched outside a convenience store, desperately shielding his toolbox from the storm.
I happened to pass by after my evening class, and, feeling a bit sympathetic, handed him my umbrella.
He told me his family had disapproved of his tattooing career, so he'd stubbornly fled and was now homeless on the streets. Drenched in the endless night rain, he had nowhere to go.
Seeing him like that, my heart went out to him. In the end, I took him in.
Back then, I was taking advanced art classes, too.
People in the arts naturally understood each other's struggles. I understood his helplessness and couldn't help but sympathize with what he was going through.
As a teenager, I got kicked out of my house, picked through trash for anything edible, and survived on leftovers.
When I finally reached the age where I could legally work, I juggled several jobs to get by.
Eventually, with the money I scraped together from all those part-time gigs, I managed to rent a cozy two-bedroom apartment.
Looking at the lost, struggling Leo, I couldn't help but see myself in him back then.
After Leo moved in, we spent most of our time holed up in the apartment, each focused on our own work.
Every time I walked past his room and saw him through the door crack, completely absorbed in his drawings, it always struck a chord with me.
We were both young, chasing our dreams and working hard for a better future.
As time went by, feelings naturally started to grow between us.
Once we started dating, I loved snuggling up in his arms, watching him sketch out his tattoo designs.
To support his dreams, I ignored my own allergies and let him use me as his canvas.
But this time, the allergic reaction nearly killed me.
The worst part? For five years, I suffered through pain, blood, and blackout after blackout. All of it was to help him win over his true love.
Looking back at how I used to be moved by my own sacrifice, I honestly want to slap myself hard now.
"White?" Hearing that, I shuddered, then snorted sarcastically.
I had always been super sensitive to pain and had delicate skin, but to please Leo, I had to grit my teeth and secretly study tattoo stuff on my own.
My phone search history was packed with things like "What meds can I take before a tattoo to prevent allergies?" "How to tell different tattoo inks apart and how toxic they are." "How to dilute the toxins in tattoo ink."
In tattooing, white ink was the most prone to poisoning. Just a small overdose of lead carbonate could lead to acute toxicity.
"Yeah, Mia, you haven't tried white yet, have you? This time, it's going to look gorgeous," Leo said.
He was so wrapped up in the thrill of finishing the tattoo that he didn't notice the look of fear and surprise on my face.
I placed my palm over the shocking scars.
Yet my heart was being shredded by the searing agony of a thousand bayonet wounds.
"But I'm allergic. If I go into anaphylactic shock, it could kill me," I said, my voice trembling.
I had just gone through this, and my lips quivered as I forced the words out.