Chapter 6
I barely slept that night.
It wasn't because of Lucas.
It was because of those comments.
"So poor you can't even pay your tuition. "That line kept pricking at me like a thorn.
The memories I'd tried so hard to bury, to blur out of existence, suddenly came back to me, crystal clear. Along with them came the pain that cut to the bone, the loneliness, and the biting cold I'd once endured.
Although I knew these were just memories of my former body.
But I still couldn't shake them off.
At 3 a.m., I dragged myself out of bed, booted up my laptop, and went through the design plans for the brand's next season all over again.
It was an old routine. If I couldn't sleep, I'd work until exhaustion finally knocked me out.
At 5 a.m., my assistant messaged me: [Ms. Shaw, the PR team has drafted a statement. Please take a look.]
I glanced at it and deleted it.
I replied: [I'll handle it myself.]
I logged onto Twitter and started typing.
[About those five years. During my college years, I paid my own tuition.
In my first year of marriage, I couldn't afford tuition, so my tutor lent me the money.
In the second year, I saved up 1,600 dollars from working at a coffee shop to register my studio.
In the third year, my first collection brought in 26,000 dollars, and I finally paid off my student loans.
By the fourth year, the brand was valued at 10 million dollars.
In the fifth year, it was worth 66 million dollars.
And through it all, I was still looking after everyone in the Grant family.
Even though my past is something I'd rather not talk about.
But, 167 million, it's rightfully mine. End of discussion.]
I hit send, turned off my phone and went to sleep.
When I woke up at 2 p.m., my phone was blowing up.
But this time, things felt different.
[Nina Shaw Responds] was trending at number one.
[The Truth About Jean Saving Lucas] was second.
[Lucas Grant Car Accident] came in third.
I clicked on the post.
It was a screenshot of an anonymous submission, posted by a small account with tens of thousands of followers.
[I was there when that car accident happened. Back then, I lived in Seaside Town. One evening, I was out walking my dog and saw a car flipped in a roadside ditch.
[There was this teenage girl, skinny as a stick, carrying a man covered in blood, step by step.
[The guy must've weighed at least 140 or 150 pounds. Every few steps, she'd drop to her knees, her knees scraped and bleeding. I ran over to help, but she told me to call the police and kept hauling him toward the nearest village.
[Eventually, we found the village and got him help.
[That man was Lucas Grant.
[And the girl is Nina Shaw.
[Not Jean Shaw, but the her sister, Nina Shaw.]
I stared at that post, completely stunned.
I honestly thought no one would ever bring up those old memories again.
I was sixteen, spending my summer in Seaside Town, when I stumbled upon that car accident.
The car was flipped in a ditch, and he was thrown from the wreck, covered in blood.
I called out to him a few times, but he didn't respond.
The place was so remote, there was no cell service, and the nearest town was over a mile away.
I hoisted him onto my back and started walking.
Every few steps, I'd drop to my knees, and the blood from my knees soaked right through my pants.
Later, someone helped call the police, and I dragged him all the way to the village. The local doctor stopped the bleeding as quickly as he could, and when the ambulance finally showed up, I slipped away without saying a word.
I didn't leave my name.
Later, I found out Jean had somehow heard about what happened and rushed to the hospital before anyone else, identifying him first.
She'd been diagnosed, and there wasn't much time left for her.
She grabbed my hand and said, "Nina, I've never loved anyone in my life, only him. Can you do this for me, only this once?"
I didn't say anything.
She cried, and kept on crying.
I didn't know Lucas at all back then, so love wasn't even a question. So I agreed.
Later, she told Lucas she was the one who'd saved him.
Three years later, she passed away.
Years later, I married Lucas.
To him, I was nothing more than "the little sister of his savior."
But in reality, I was the one who saved your life, and you still saw me as nothing more than her substitute.
How ironic.
*****
My phone rang. It was a number I didn't recognize.
I picked up.
"Nina?" he said.
A man's voice, vaguely familiar.
"This is Ethan Clark."
Ethan Clark. I recognized the name.
He was the guy who used to walk his dog near the scene of the accident years ago. He gave me his number back then, and later we added each other on WhatsApp. We'd occasionally exchange messages online.
"I saw your post on Twitter. Actually... I appreciate it, though," I said.
After a short pause, Ethan spoke. “I've never forgotten that incident. Your rescue of him impressed me deeply, and I still marvel thinking about it. I never imagined Lucas would go on to marry your elder sister.
"But seeing the online abuse you've endured, I want to clarify the truth. Lucas ought to know who truly saved him.”
I didn't say anything.
"Why didn't you tell him back then?" he asked.
I thought for a moment and said, "Would it have mattered?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"Yeah, you're right," he said. "Some people aren't worth it."
I hung up.
It was already dark outside.
I stood by the window, gazing at the sea of glowing windows across the street.
I thought back to when I was sixteen.
That day, I carried Lucas on my back, step by step.
He was barely conscious and kept muttering something under his breath.
I leaned in closer to hear him, and Lucas whispered, "Don't go. Don't leave me."
Back then, I thought, 'He must have been terrified of being left alone.'
I reassured him, "Don't worry, I won't leave you."
Eight years later, though, I still let go.
Thinking about it now, I smiled, and felt lighter than ever.