Chapter 3

3

Sheila Young and I had grown up in the same orphanage.

Being a few months older, I naturally took on the role of her protector.

Whenever food was scarce, I made sure she ate first.

When donated clothes arrived, I let her pick first, and when school resources were available, I pushed for her to attend an arts magnet school.

So when she learned they were going abroad together, Sheila patted her chest and promised me.

"Don't worry, Janie. I'll keep a close eye on Logan and make sure no other woman gets near him!"

At that moment, all I thought was how relieved I felt.

At least Logan wouldn't be completely alone in a strange country.

After they left, I returned to the exhausting grind I had known before the exams.

His mother and I needed to eat, rent had to be paid, and medication was expensive.

I worked day and night, catching up on sleep during lectures.

Nina's brow furrowed in anger again.

"She was his mother! Why were you the one working yourself to the bone to care for her, buy her meds, and pay her rent?"

"Did he just go abroad to enjoy life without working or sending a single dime back to you?"

I closed my eyes for a second, then gave a quiet hum.

In the beginning, Logan called every single day, sighing about the high cost of living, how hard it was to find under-the-table work, and how he went to bed hungry.

Sheila also complained that life abroad was miserable, saying even our worst days in the orphanage were better than this.

My heart ached for them, so I scraped together every spare dollar and wired it across the ocean to keep them afloat.

Over time, the calls became less frequent.

After six months, they simply accepted the money transfers without sending a single text in return.

At that moment, Nina's phone buzzed, and she hurried off to clock out.

I glanced one last time at Zach's file, then packed up to go home.

In the shower, I removed my silk scarf, exposing the hideous, jagged scar on my neck.

Logan had put it there.

Ten springs ago, unable to reach either Logan or Sheila for weeks, I used the last of my savings to buy a cheap red-eye flight to see him.

What I found was Logan holding Sheila in his arms, kissing her deeply under a maple tree.

When their lips parted, he gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

They smiled at each other, their eyes sparkling with genuine tenderness.

Under the dim streetlights, with the spring breeze rustling through the leaves, they looked like a romantic painting.

I lost my mind, charging forward to rip them apart and smashing the travel mug in my hands straight at Logan's face.

Yet when I spun around to slap Sheila, Logan hurled the mug right back at me.

It hit the side of my face with brutal force.

Scalding hot water burst out, streaming down my neck and chest.

I had forgotten that the lid had been broken since the day they met, never sealing properly.

I had never had the spare money to buy a replacement.

The burns flared with agonizing pain, but Logan didn't seem to notice at all as he shielded Sheila behind his back, staring at me with icy eyes.

"Janie, if you want to hate someone, hate me. Sheila did nothing wrong."

Hate him?

Of course I hated him.

Ignoring the blistering burn on my skin, I screamed through tears, demanding to know why they had betrayed me.

Sheila was crying too, her quiet whimpers turning into a frantic outburst as a crowd began to circle around us.

"Janie, you have no idea how hard it was for us over here! We only had each other to lean on! Us being together was just natural!"

I refused to accept that excuse.

"Do you think my life back home was a paradise? You two had each other, but who did I have? I had nobody but myself!"

Logan blocked me as I tried to step forward, keeping Sheila firmly inside his protective space.

He lowered his eyes, his voice flat and cold.

"I'm sorry. It's entirely my fault."

"Sheila isn't lying to you. We went through so much together this past year. We didn't tell you because we didn't want you to worry."

A chill settled deep in my bones as I stared at him, forcing out every word.

"Logan, you went through a lot in one year, so the seven years we spent together count for nothing now?"

"Do you have any idea how much your mother missed you before I left, constantly terrified that something had happened to you?"

"Meanwhile, you didn't make a single call for six months, took the money I bled to earn, and turned around to sleep with my best friend!"

He snapped his head up, his jaw clenched tight, his eyes as black and empty as a void.

I knew him inside and out.

Growing up in deep poverty had left him with massive insecurities whenever money was mentioned.

Throughout college, whenever he met the neighbors who had lent him tuition money, he practically bowed to the floor.

And for all those years, both he and his mother had essentially survived on my dime.

"Janie, I used your money, and I failed you."

"How do you want me to make it up to you? Is my life enough?"

With that, he pulled a folding utility knife from his backpack.

Without a second of hesitation, he plunged it deep into his own abdomen.