Chapter 3

After sleeping away the entire day, I was sitting at the dining table, enjoying a simple bowl of spaghetti soup with a poached egg floating on top, when Charles returned.

"You came back by yourself?" he asked, his brows knitting together as he looked at me.

There was a tinge of anger in his voice.

I shot him a blank look and let out a scoff-laced laugh at his reaction. Setting down my fork, I retorted coolly, "Why shouldn't I have?"

Caught off guard, he looked a tad flustered.

"I went to the airport to pick you up, but you were gone. And no reply to my texts. You have no idea how worried I was."

Inside, I let out a bitter sneer.

When I was left stranded in a foreign land, he didn't give a damn.

When I shivered in the cold waiting for him, he didn't even ask.

But now, here I was, sitting calmly having my meal, and he had the nerve to accuse me of making him worried?

Just like that, all the love I'd held for this man over the past five years evaporated.

I explained evenly, "I waited for almost an hour. Figured you were busy, so I didn't wanna bug you."

Charles just stood there, stunned, his lips pressed.

The silence stretched as we stared at each other.

Suddenly, my appetite vanished. I dropped my gaze and got up to head to the bedroom, only to have my arm grabbed.

"Olivia, can you stop throwing a fit? Last night, Emily had a stomach issue, so I had to take her to the hospital. That's why I was late, okay? Can't you just cut me some slack..." Charles said.

"Yeah, I get it," I said, my voice cold and flat.

Before Charles could finish, I yanked my arm free from his grip.

"Emily's your childhood friend, right? Ever since she lost her parents, she's been battling depression—always drinking to numb the pain, sometimes spiraling so bad she ends up hurting herself," I said, my tone icy.

I forced a smile, ignoring how Charles' face kept getting gloomier. I nodded. "Sure, I get it. She's obviously your top priority."

Not caring at all, I turned on my heel and headed for the bedroom, not even bothering to look back.

But tonight, Charles seemed hell-bent on picking a fight with me.

"Olivia! Can you just talk to me for once?

"I get it, you're mad that I'm always dropping everything for Emily, but I've told you over and over—she's just like a sister to me!" Charles said, his voice getting louder.

Seriously, since when did a non-blood-related "sister" have a guy on speed-dial? Sharing milkshakes and chowing down on the same plate of food like that.

And since when did people intertwine their fingers with their "sister" like that?

I couldn't be bothered to argue anymore.

We'd had this fight so many times, and he'd made so many empty promises.

But Emily is like a thorn stuck between us—not enough to break us, but always there, making things hurt.

Coming back to myself, I shot him a blank look and nodded. "Sure, if that's what you think."

I was still jet-lagged and totally wiped out.

So I didn't even bother with his reaction. I just went back to the bedroom and crashed.

As I closed my eyes, I heard the front door slam shut with a bang.

I frowned but didn't give it another thought.

This guy was really nuts.

He wanted me to be understanding during the fight, but now that I was being quiet, he was acting like a lunatic.