I begged the doctors for three days before Victor returned. To buy freedom, I sold my pride.
"I was wrong, Victor." I forced out the lie. "I love you. That's why I was jealous. Please—take me out."
Satisfaction softened his features. He helped me out of the hospital gown, sprinkled pomelo water over me to wash away bad luck.
"Gracie, leave it all behind. From now on, be obedient. Let's go home."
Back at the villa, the yard was ruined earth. The peach trees—once vibrant—had been uprooted, leaving ugly, gaping pits.
A memory surfaced: the year Victor got into No. 1 High School, Grandma Weston died. He'd wept all night by her grave. Terrified he'd abandon everything, I'd asked, "Victor, will you stay?"
He'd gripped my hand. "My home is wherever you and Joel Sullivan are. Silly girl, I'm not going anywhere."
Tears pricked my eyes. My voice rasped. "Victor, with Georgia Kaufman living here now... is this still the home you wanted?"
He looked down at me, Adam's apple bobbing. Before he could speak, Georgia's voice drifted from upstairs.
"Victor! I found the graduation photos! You looked so young!"
She bounded down, but froze when she saw me. The photos disappeared behind her back.