I understood—Emma was his first love, someone he had grown up with, a memory from before his parents' death.
But I never expected Emma to be this kind of person.
At business events, she accompanied Martin.
At family gatherings, I stood on the sidelines, watching them hold hands while Emma sweetly called everyone "Uncle" and "Aunt."
She was always by his side, and I was left to confide my sorrows to my mom at home.
Everyone knew I was his girlfriend, but the one always by his side wasn't me.
"My face hurts so much..."
While Martin and I stood there stunned, Emma began to whimper, her eyes reddened with tears.
"Regardless of the reason, hitting someone is wrong," Martin said, his tone becoming firm as he saw her in this state. "I'll make sure Emma apologizes to Auntie, but right now, you need to apologize to her!"
"And if I refuse?"
"Sofia, don't push your luck."
"I won't apologize."
As soon as I said that, Emma, who had been crying on the floor, suddenly stood up and slapped me across the face.
I stumbled, feeling a kick from someone, and soon after, I fell to the ground, instinctively protecting the box in my arms.
I was kicked a few more times until Emma, exhausted, finally stopped.