Chapter 3
After wandering for about an hour, a Maybach pulled up sharply beside me. The window rolled down, and James' handsome face came into view, his brow furrowed in a scowl. "How much longer are you going to keep up this charade?" he snapped. "If the press catches you wandering the streets like this, they'll start calling me some heartless jerk."
Then, Emily popped her head out from the passenger seat, putting on a pitiful look. "Olivia, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you two fight. I'll just head back. I don't have a soul in this city to turn to, but if I end up dead in my apartment, then so be it. It's my cross to bear."
Emily's fake-innocent routine was so transparent, and I couldn't figure out why I always ended up losing to her. Did James really not see through her?
He probably did. He enjoyed the fact that she was willing to play dirty just to keep his attention. It proved she still cared. I was nothing more than the casualty in their little romantic power game.
I ignored James and kept walking. The night wind was freezing, chilling me to the bone.
James honked the horn impatiently. But when I didn't budget, he stopped the car, yanked the door open, and shoved me into the back seat. "Can't you be sensible for once?" he snapped. "Acting like this is making things harder for me. Why can't you be more like Emily?"
The words probably tumbled out of his mouth before he could think, and he was right. I was not as good as Emily. At least to him, I didn't hold a candle to Emily.
I wanted to snap back, but my throat felt tight and dry. So in the end, I just stayed silent.
Prejudice is hard to shake. In James' mind, I was always the unreasonable, jealous one. No matter how much I tried to explain, the verdict was already in. Besides, I didn't care anymore.
The ride home was dead silent. But of course, despite her tearful claims that she wanted to go home, Emily followed us right inside.
The second we stepped through the door, Emily sprinted ahead of me. She took a dive right in the entryway, slamming her forehead against the corner of a cabinet. Blood immediately streamed down her face.
The crash was so loud, I froze for a moment. James rushed over to help her, and the blood matting her hair was a gruesome sight.
Emily looked up at me, eyes brimming with tears and fake disbelief. "Olivia, I know you hate me, but how could you actually lay a hand on me? I'll leave right now, okay? Please... just let me go."
She struggled to get up, stumbling as she tried and failing again and again. I couldn't help but sneer inwardly. Framing me was a game she never got tired of playing. I bet even she lost count of how many times she'd pulled this stunt.
James pulled her into his arms, shielding her as if I were a monster. The look he gave me was one of pure, unadulterated hatred. "Olivia, why do you never learn your lesson? How can you be so vicious right in front of me? I'm warning you, if anything happens to Emily, there will be hell to pay."
He scrambled to get her back to the car to head to the hospital. Just before they left, I caught the flash of triumph in Emily's eyes.
So what? I saw this coming from the start. In the past, I would have chased after them, begging him to believe it wasn't me, looking like a criminal as I tried to prove my innocence.
Since James loathed me this much, it was just as well.
*****
It was nearly dawn when I saw Emily's Instagram post. Her caption read: [So this is what it feels like to be cared for.]
The picture showed James dozing off, his head propped up on his arm, sitting right by Emily's hospital bed.
Back when the system punished me, I had to drag myself to the hospital alone. When I called James, he had only snapped at me, "You are always sick the second I go to Emily's. Your timing is always too convenient. Do you take me for a fool? Since you love hanging out at the hospital so much, why don't you just die there?"
The pain was so intense that I couldn't even speak. I kept biting my lip, my mouth filled with the taste of blood. But hearing those words, I realized the physical pain was nothing compared to the bitter pill of his indifference.
James had never once stayed with me in the hospital, let alone spent the night. It was clear as day how he really felt about me.
Shortly after Emily posted, the comments from our mutual friends started rolling in.
[You'll always be number one to James. I'm so jealous.]
[Are wedding bells finally ringing? We're waiting for the invite.]
But Emily kept her response deliberately vague when she replied to the comments: [James and I are just friends; don't say that. Olivia might get the wrong idea.]
But Emily still posted a blushing emoji, and the meaning behind it was obvious to everyone.
As expected, her "innocent" reply set off a fresh wave of vitriol.
[Olivia's been simping for James forever. She should've backed off a long time ago. Doesn't she get who he really likes? I've never seen anyone so shameless before.]
Most of these people were James and Emily's friends. They had cheered on their "epic love story," conveniently choosing to forget that Emily had jumped ship the moment James hit rock bottom. Their attitude toward me was merely a reflection of his. Thinking back on all the humiliation I went through, it really wasn't worth it.
I found a comment rooting for James and Emily to get together and typed a simple reply: [They will be soon.]
But those friends didn't buy it at all. They mocked me instantly: [Playing hard to get again, huh? Someone like you would never let go. If you really leave James, we'll throw you a parade for your selfless sacrifice.]
As soon as people saw my reply, they started piling on, flooding me with a barrage of hateful, ugly comments. But somehow, I felt strangely calm. I set the phone down and drifted into a quiet, dreamless sleep.