Chapter 1

After six years with Victor Winston, we finally started planning our wedding.

But I never saw it coming. On Valentine's Day, he booked a hotel room, and the booking notification popped up on my phone.

I went to the hotel, unsure what to believe, still hoping maybe it was all just a misunderstanding.

Even before I got to the door, I could hear Victor's voice. After six years, I'd know that voice anywhere.

I didn't make a scene like I usually would. I just let it all go and left Feroville alone.

Everyone in our circle kept telling me to go back. After all, Victor was the number one rich kid in Feroville. They said he was already doing more than most guys would.

Victor even openly bet on Facebook, wondering how many days I'd last before coming back to him.

But day after day, he never heard a word from me.

That was when Victor finally started to panic. For the first time, he called me. "Lydia, I want to eat your cooking again."

But instead of my voice, a man's chuckle came through the line. "Lydia's not cooking for anyone anymore. Not in this lifetime, buddy."

Victor's eyes instantly filled with tears, but the line was already dead.

*****

When I first met Victor, I had no idea that his family business ruled half of Feroville.

Just like any other classmates, we met back in high school.

But our high school was actually one of the most prestigious schools in all of Feroville.

Honestly, my family couldn't afford a place like that, but my mom went above and beyond, doing whatever it took to get me in.

So I worked my butt off. I couldn't let my mom down, and I definitely didn't want to disappoint my dad watching over me from heaven.

I honestly had no idea when Victor transferred into our class. With all the chaos of senior year, I barely had time to notice anything new.

That was the case right up until our homeroom teacher paired me up with him as desk mates.

No matter how hard they tried, some people just weren't built for certain subjects.

As for me, math was a total train wreck. My scores were barely even a fraction of what I got in foreign language.

Maybe the teacher noticed how hard I was trying and decided to help me out, so she put Victor, the new transfer student, right next to me.

"Lydia, this is Victor. He just transferred from Feroville High School, and he's one of the top math students in the whole state," our homeroom teacher said with a warm smile as she introduced him to me.

His name was Victor. The moment I heard that name, it was as if it was branded into my heart.

It wasn't because of his otherworldly looks or those sharp, charming eyes. It was just his name, Victor Winston.

It sounded so crisp and clear, so special to me.

But even though the teacher said all that, I never once saw him actually awake in math class.

"Liar, big liar. How could you ever get good at math if you sleep through every class?" I muttered under my breath.

I couldn't stand someone sleeping through a class that I could barely understand myself.

He just groggily lifted his head, shot me a sleepy glance, and mumbled something I couldn't quite catch.

But I still heard it. He called me an idiot.

I swore to myself that next time I'd get a higher math grade than Victor.

But just wishing for a miracle didn't make it happen.

My grades never broke fifty, same as always. Victor, meanwhile, got a perfect score.

But Victor was truly a math genius. I kept pestering him with questions, and thanks to that, my grades climbed fast.

Little did I know that was the first step on my way down.

Somehow, whenever Victor and I walked into class together, my classmates would let out these dramatic sighs.

I'd turn bright red, totally mortified. Victor was easy on the eyes, but high school was supposed to be about grades, not crushes.

At first, I thought everyone was just on edge from all the exam stress.

As the rumors and jokes spread, it was only a matter of time before the teachers eventually found out.

Sure enough, one day after class, I saw my mom waiting for me.

Her face was ghostly pale, a few strands of gray hair peeking out from her locks, and wrinkles I hadn't noticed before had crept onto her skin.

This was the first time I'd ever seen her this angry. She was shaking all over.

I thought for sure I was about to get scolded, but my mom managed to keep her temper in check.

But she just raised her hand, and I was already bawling my eyes out.

Her fingers were swollen, twisted in strange ways, and covered in chapped, cracked skin.

Those hands were nothing like a pianist's should be. She pushed herself through countless classes every day, all for my education.

"I don't want to hold you back, but I really hope you don't end up like me, going through all this pain," my mom said softly.