Chapter 2

I wasn't always this way.

For three years in high school, it was like my eyes were bewitched, always drawn to Ryan.

He was the star on the basketball court, the center of attention, while I was just an unnoticed shadow in the corner.

Those secret feelings I had for him were buried under piles of homework and tucked away in my late-night diary, never daring to see the light of day.

Then, on a sunny afternoon in my freshman year, Ryan walked over with the sunlight behind him and, without a second thought, stuffed a cheap chocolate bar from the campus store into my hand. "Emma, be my girlfriend," he said.

Right then, it was like my heart exploded with joy, so much that I nodded so hard I nearly gave myself whiplash.

Five months into our relationship, I still couldn't believe this was real.

That night, he took me to a party with his friends. By the time it was over, it was already late, and he coaxed me into staying the night at his apartment.

The mood was hazy and intimate until that familiar cramping pain hit me. I rushed to the bathroom and saw the telltale red stain.

To make things worse, I hadn't come prepared, and that glaring red had stained his light gray sheets.

The pain was so intense that I curled up on the edge of the bed, cold sweat beading on my forehead. I didn't even have the strength to speak.

When Ryan came out of the shower and saw the stained sheets and my pale face, his brows furrowed. Not with concern, but with clear disgust and disappointment.

"How did you mess this up?" His voice was cold and sharp.

I was in so much pain I couldn't get a word out, so I just looked at him helplessly.

He got even more annoyed. "What a pain! If I'd known you'd ruin the mood like this, I wouldn't have let you stay over."

Feeling both hurt and in pain, I finally snapped, my voice breaking as I choked out, "Ryan, I'm your girlfriend! Can't you tell I'm in pain right now?"

He let out a mocking laugh, looking down at me like I was some kind of joke. "Emma, if you can't deal with it, then just leave. My girlfriend needs to know how to behave. Don't bring me trouble."

Those words "know how to behave" felt like a slap, snapping me out of my daze.

Right then, the pain in my heart was sharper than anything in my stomach.

With every ounce of strength I had left, I pulled on my clothes and staggered out of there. The next day, I sent him a breakup text.

But three days later, I was back at Ryan's apartment right on schedule, carrying the coffee he always drinks.

When he opened the door, he looked groggy and irritated, with that familiar smirk on his face, like he knew exactly what was coming.

Before he could say anything, I dropped my gaze and spoke softly, "Ryan, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost my temper with you that day."

He froze for a moment, then a satisfied grin spread across his face. He pulled me into his arms, holding me tight, like he owned me.

My cheek pressed against the cool fabric of his pajamas, breathing in his familiar scent.

My heart felt cold and numb, strangely calm.

*****

Ever since that night at the bar, Ryan and I had been stuck in this strange cold war.

To be honest, it was really just him giving me the silent treatment.

Back then, he'd always hit me up. Sometimes he would ask me to drop off paperwork, sometimes because he needed company in the middle of the night. No matter what, I'd always show up right away.

But now, my phone hadn't buzzed once in an entire month.

Then, one day, my phone finally lit up with a message from Ryan. It was short and direct: [Blue Island Coffee. Come now.]

I put down the papers I was sorting and texted back: [On my way.]

As I pushed open the door to the coffee shop, soft music filled the air.

I spotted Ryan right away, sitting by the window, and across from him was a girl with flawless makeup and designer clothes.

I'd seen her on TV before. Chloe Linwood, the heiress of the Linwood Group.

When Ryan saw me, a playful, almost provocative smile tugged at his lips. He turned to Chloe and said, "Chloe, this is my cousin, Emma."

He deliberately stressed the word "cousin," watching me closely, like he was waiting to see how I'd react.

Chloe gave me a polite nod and a smile, her eyes sizing me up.

I met his eyes and walked over, flashing a friendly, just-right smile that fit the "cousin" role perfectly. "Hey, Ryan. You must be Ms. Linwood, right? Ryan's always talking about you. You're even prettier in person."

My voice was smooth, my face totally composed. There was no trace of irritation or awkwardness. For all anyone could tell, I really was just another forgettable cousin who barely mattered.

Ryan's playful, expectant look froze, then crashed right before my eyes. His mood tanked.

Before Chloe could say a word, Ryan suddenly shot up, grabbed me with an almost scary force, and practically hauled me out of there without a second thought, leaving Chloe behind, looking totally blindsided and awkward.

"Ryan! What the hell are you doing?" I nearly tripped as he yanked me out of the coffee shop, my wrist aching from how hard he was gripping me.

He shoved me into the car parked at the curb, slammed the door, then leaned over, his breath hot and practically seething with anger. "Emma! What was that look you gave just now? 'Cousin'? You really nailed that act, huh?"