I forced myself up despite the pain and struggled toward the bathroom. One of the bodyguards kicked me hard in the stomach and said with a mocking tone, “Sorry, you’ll have to wait until he’s done.”
I collapsed to the ground in despair and fainted from grief.
When I woke up, I rushed to the bathroom, but it had already been cleaned.
I leaned over the toilet, my stomach twisting from sadness.
I gagged and retched for over ten minutes before the truth hit me — I hadn’t even managed to protect the last shred of my sister’s dignity.
Numbly, I stood up and packed everything that Natalie had kicked over yesterday into my suitcase.
On the way to the airport, I saw Natalie’s new post on social media.
It was a photo of Zayn, dressed in a custom-made suit, kneeling devoutly before a Jesus statue.
The caption read: “Every princess has her own knight. I’m no exception.”
A moment later, I saw a familiar profile among the likes.
I let out a cold laugh. Zayn had never once liked any of my posts—he always said social media was childish and meaningless.
But for Natalie, he could post and even click “like.”
So it was true—someone who never even offered you a piece of candy was never really yours.