When we were ten, Lily framed me with her own body, causing my parents to hate me. I cried so hard, and it was ten-year-old Ethan who comforted me with his innocent, childlike voice.
Dragging my weary body back to the new apartment, I found an email with Candace's flight information. The timing was just perfect—ten days from now, on the morning of our wedding.
I looked up at the small robot on the wall, its cheerful face staring back at me. The large numbers on its display weren't just a countdown to our wedding anymore; they had become a countdown to my departure.
It seemed almost fated.
When Ethan returned, I was wrapping the bandages on my hand. The sight of my injuries made his eyes flicker with something akin to guilt. He sighed deeply, crouching in front of me to gently remove the old bandages and clean the wounds with iodine.
"You know," he said, his voice tinged with frustration, "I’ve been good to Lily partly because of you. All these years, you’ve struggled with your parents. Now, as we’re about to get married, you don’t have any family to attend, no friends to speak of, and even your bridesmaids are nowhere to be found."
I bit my lip, silent.