Chapter 3

I hadn't even noticed when Joseph and Yvonne started hitting it off.

Then one day, the housekeeper showed up with lunch for three, instead of just two.

"There's nothing here I like," I muttered, my voice quivering with frustration.

Joseph didn't even bother looking up from his reports. "We're eating healthy today. Yvonne says it's good to cleanse our systems once in a while."

Yvonne settled in next to me, coffee in hand, her tone exaggeratedly sweet as she said, "Sorry, Lucille."

I shot her a look. She arched her brow, lips curled into a wickedly amused smile.

"Oops, I forgot you're not into this healthy stuff," she said sweetly. "But you should really try eating lighter, Lucille. I've just noticed your clothes are fitting a bit tighter lately. Unlike me..."

She let the sentence hang, but the smirk on her lips said it all.

"You really do love to hear yourself talk, don't you?" I said in a low voice. "Let's get one thing straight—we're not friends. And for the record, those skin-tight clothes you're so proud of? They're not giving what you think they are."

The office went dead silent. Yvonne looked like she'd just been slapped, her perfectly drawn eyeliner twitching with anger.

Joseph finally set down his papers, frowning at me. "Lucy, you've gone too far."

The same guy who used to throw punches for me when people called me a crybaby was now scolding me for going too far because of another girl.

"I've gone too far? Looks like I'm just crashing your little party," I shot back with a cold laugh, spinning on my heel to leave.

Joseph instinctively pulled me close, just like he did back in middle school when those punks cornered me in an alley.

But this time, his arms carried the scent of another woman's perfume, and his voice was tinged with irritation. "Fine, I'll have the housekeeper make something you like tomorrow. Don't be upset, alright?"

Yvonne's face instantly darkened.

From the next day on, Yvonne's digs at me got even more ruthless.

When I showed up for work with a little trinket hanging from my bag, she immediately put a hand over her mouth, her voice pitching higher. "Wow. Chanel with... that thing? Lucille, what a bold choice. I'm honestly speechless.

"Who even still likes that stuff? All the cool kids are into edgy collectibles now. Get with the times, bumpkin."

The guys around couldn't help but burst out laughing.

At lunch, I gave my cutlery a quick wipe with a napkin.

Yvonne immediately nudged the guy beside her, her voice dripping with mock concern as she shrilled, "Oh my god, are we too fancy for ordinary cutlery now? What's wrong? Is the royal palace missing its precious princess?"

The guys totally played along, mugging for the crowd like it was the best joke they'd heard all week.

When it was time for the annual desk shuffle at work, I lugged my monitor across the office, my arms aching.

Just as I paused to catch my breath, Yvonne banged the table and called out, practically turning the place into a circus. "Check it out—our princess can't even move her own monitor. Any knights wanna come to her rescue?"

She and the crew busted out laughing, some of them even blatantly snapping pictures and filming like it was showtime.

At first, Joseph just frowned and said quietly, "Alright, don't take it too far."

But Yvonne giggled coquettishly, "Oh, come on, it was just a joke. Lucy is always so proper. I was just trying to help her come out of her shell a little."

Joseph was silent for a moment, and then, to my surprise, he nodded in agreement. "She really is a bit introverted. Girls these days are just so fragile."

Yvonne couldn't help but laugh, giving Joseph a light punch on the arm. "Hey, don't lump everyone together. I'm definitely not like that."

Joseph smiled at her, his eyes showing his quiet approval.

A sudden pang of hurt clenched in my chest.

To Joseph, I'd always been a bit spoiled and overly dramatic—too reserved for my own good.

Watching cartoons was childish in his eyes. Keeping things tidy meant I had OCD. And he just called me an introvert because of my quietness. But the truth was, those were all the things he used to let slide, almost as if he found them endearing.

*****

That day, after holding it in for so long, I finally reached my breaking point.

During one holiday, my parents and I went to Saliston.

The sea breeze was gentle, the sun was relentless, and I was having the time of my life. By the time we got back, my skin was peeling and patchy from the sun.

Usually, my skin would clear up on its own after a while, so I never worried about it.

But on my first day back, I walked into the office in a pink knit top and immediately felt the sharp, assessing stare of Yvonne.

"Oh my," she called out, covering her mouth theatrically. "Lucille, honey, look at the state of your skin. And you chose to wear pink? What a disaster."

Her laugh was sharp and grating, like nails scraping a chalkboard. "No way you pass for a princess now. Look at that patchy skin—never in the storybooks, is it?"

Then she shot an exaggerated wink at the guys next to her. "Seriously, she's turning into the ugly duckling right before our eyes."

The guys couldn't help but burst out laughing.

I froze in place, heat flooding my cheeks as humiliation burned through me.

Joseph just stood there, right by her side, catching my eye with that little smirk, like he didn't care at all.

And in that instant, I felt something deep inside me break—perhaps the ghost of our eighteen years as childhood sweethearts, or the last fragment of a dream where I'd once marry him.

Before I knew it, I grabbed my coffee and splashed it right into Yvonne's face.

Yvonne shrieked, and her makeup melted instantly as coffee dripped down her cheeks, mascara trailing in inky rivers like tears.

"Lucille, are you insane?" she sputtered, desperately scrubbing at her ruined face, clumps of mascara sticking to her fingers and cheeks.

I gave a cold laugh, mimicking her mocking tone. "Wow, and here you go on about how you 'act like one of the boys.' Since when do guys show up to work with a full face of makeup?

"With all that eyelid tape, mascara, and lipstick, you're more primped than anyone I know. Some tomboy you are."

People jumped in to hold me back, and Joseph snatched the cup right out of my hand, his eyes as cold as ice. "Lucille, apologize."

I locked eyes with him, feeling my nose sting, but my voice was surprisingly steady. "You were laughing when she made fun of me. Now that I finally say the truth, you want me to say sorry?"

He frowned, his tone like he was lecturing a kid. "Cut it out with the childish tantrum. Fights are one thing, but drenching someone with coffee is just wrong. You crossed the line, so take responsibility and apologize."

"Apologize? Hell no," I snapped, loaded with sarcasm.

The air went dead silent for a split second.

Before I knew it, he slapped me hard. The sound echoed in the room.

My ears rang, yet I could still hear Yvonne's pleased sniffling and the whispers of my coworkers. With that one slap, eighteen years of shared history and every last shred of my feeling for him shattered.

I slowly raised my head, looking at Joseph—the same boy who once stood up for me.

"Real classy, Joseph," I whispered, my voice almost breaking. "We're done."