Evelyn’s past had shaped her rebellious streak. She had grown strong, fiercely independent and stubborn to a fault. Her reasoning was simple: if even her own parents had abandoned her, how could she possibly expect goodness from anyone else?
That was, until she met Christopher.
The day they met was etched into her memory—a moment both humiliating and life-changing.
She had been grabbed by a group of angry strangers, accusing her of being a mistress. The crowd around her jeered, their judgmental whispers cutting like knives. No one listened to her frantic protests that she didn’t even know these people. No one stepped in to help.
Then, like a figure descending from the heavens, Christopher had intervened.
He pulled Evelyn out of the mob, his deep, calm voice cutting through the chaos like a balm. His words were firm, authoritative and laced with an unshakable confidence, “I’m her husband. Who are you? Let go of her, or I’ll call the police.”
Just like that, he had saved her.
As the mob dispersed, Evelyn shoved herself away from him, her pride as bruised as her arms. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the only money she had left—a single crumpled hundred-dollar bill—and thrust it toward him. Her distrust of people dripped from every syllable.
“Thanks for saving me. This is all I’ve got. Is it enough? If not, I’ll find a job and pay the rest later.”
Christopher had looked at the wrinkled bill, his lips quirking into an amused smirk. He should’ve walked away, but instead, he lingered, something about her defiance intriguing him.
“Well,” he said, “as it happens, my company’s looking for a clerk. Interested?”
Evelyn frowned suspiciously, snatching the bill back. “You’re not part of some scam, are you? Pretend to save me, then trick me into something worse?”
Christopher blinked, momentarily stunned. “...You’re unbelievable.”
In the end, with nowhere else to go, Evelyn followed him.
What began as an arrangement of necessity gradually blossomed into something deeper.
At first, Christopher admired her tenacity. Maybe it was because she was so different from the women in his world—particularly Charlotte. Evelyn’s fiery independence and unpolished honesty were a stark contrast to Charlotte’s delicate, polished demeanor.
For three years, their relationship was blissful. They were inseparable and for the first time in her life, Evelyn felt like the world wasn’t entirely against her.
But then Charlotte returned.
Fresh from her studies abroad, Charlotte re-entered Christopher’s life with all the subtlety of a hurricane. Her presence disrupted the fragile balance Evelyn and Christopher had built.
It was around this time that Christopher’s feelings began to shift.
At first, he appreciated Evelyn’s stubbornness, her refusal to conform. But then he began to see it as a flaw—a flaw he wanted to fix.
“You can’t keep acting like this. You need to change.”
“Evelyn, why can’t you be more like Charlotte? Do you always have to be so difficult?”
“There’s only so much patience a person has. Don’t test mine.”
Evelyn loved Christopher deeply, but she wasn’t naive. She knew love wasn’t permanent. Her parents’ love for her had faded; why wouldn’t Christopher’s?
So, she began changing—bit by bit, piece by piece—molding herself into the version of Evelyn that Christopher seemed to want.
She hid her temper, bit her tongue and tried to be as poised and agreeable as Charlotte.
But the more she changed, the less of herself remained. Depression crept in and soon, Evelyn was a shadow of the person she used to be. She spoke less, smiled rarely and lost interest in everything.
And yet, it still wasn’t enough for Christopher.
Now, as snowflakes tumbled from the sky, Evelyn knelt in the courtyard, her body trembling from the cold. The icy flakes melted on her cheeks and trickled down her neck, but she didn’t move.
Through the windows of the villa, warm light spilled out, accompanied by the sound of laughter. Christopher and Charlotte’s voices mingled inside, their laughter ringing clear as they talked about something amusing.
Human instinct craved warmth and light, but Evelyn only bowed her head lower. Her legs had gone numb long ago, but the faint smile on her lips was bitter and indifferent.
None of it mattered.
A month from now, she would be on the operating table, her life hanging by a thread. She had already decided that if she didn’t make it, so be it.
Warmth, love, health, life—it all seemed so pointless.
Later that night, after the birthday celebration, Christopher drove Charlotte home.
As he passed the courtyard, he saw Evelyn, still kneeling in the snow. She didn’t lift her head to look at him, her figure a motionless silhouette against the white backdrop.
Christopher hesitated for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. He climbed into his car, gripping the steering wheel tightly, annoyance flickering in his chest.
He didn’t know why he felt that way, but it bothered him.
Breaking the silence, he glanced at Charlotte and asked, “Do you think I’m... too harsh on her?”
