Evelyn lifted her head slowly, her voice barely above a whisper, hoarse and broken,
“Chris, my knees hurt.”
Her words hung in the icy air, fragile yet defiant.
Christopher let out a soft sigh, the kind that spoke of exasperation laced with resignation. He crossed his arms, visibly trying to rein in his temper.
“Evelyn, you know Charlotte and I grew up together. I’ve always been close to her and I care about her like family. That’s not something you can just change.”
He paused, searching her face for understanding, then continued, “I know you don’t like her, but you can’t lash out at her like that. She’s not in good health—her heart condition makes things worse. She can’t handle the stress.”
Christopher felt as though he was being more than fair, speaking to Evelyn with patience despite his frustration. To him, this was her chance to reflect and apologize.
If she just took responsibility, he might be willing to forgive her.
But instead, Evelyn repeated the same words, her voice softer this time,
“Chris… my knees hurt. I can’t kneel anymore.”
His patience snapped.
The calm facade melted away as his brows furrowed and anger darkened his gaze.
“Don’t act like you haven’t knelt before. You’ve been through this and come out fine. So why now? Why pretend you’re in pain after just one night?”
His voice grew sharper, harsher. “I didn’t save you or stand by you just so you could throw tantrums. Stop pushing your luck, Evelyn.”
A bitter laugh echoed in Evelyn’s mind, though her face betrayed no emotion. She had known this would happen. She had known he wouldn’t care—wouldn’t believe her.
Once, Christopher had always been the one to shield her. When he’d made her kneel in the past, it had been more for show than punishment. The moment she’d looked truly pained, he would falter, his heart softening enough to pull her back to safety.
It hadn’t taken her long to learn the rules. Back then, she could feign discomfort and he would carry her back inside, guilt etched on his face.
But this time was different.
Yesterday, everything had changed.
Evelyn and Charlotte had fought—words sharp enough to cut, leaving deep wounds. Charlotte had hurled cruel insults, accusing Evelyn of being manipulative, of worming her way into Christopher’s life and ruining their bond.
“You’re just like your mother,” Charlotte had sneered. “Pathetic, unwanted. No wonder your father left her—and you.”
Evelyn couldn’t hold back. Years of life on her own had given her a sharp tongue and she let loose with biting retorts that left Charlotte visibly shaken.
But then Charlotte had done the unthinkable. With a shove, she’d sent Evelyn tumbling down the staircase, leaving her knee bruised and swollen.
And, as if on cue, Charlotte had played the victim perfectly. The moment Christopher appeared, she clutched her chest, gasping, feigning a heart episode.
“She attacked me,” Charlotte had cried, her voice trembling.
Christopher hadn’t even looked at Evelyn before sweeping Charlotte into his arms and rushing her to the hospital.
Hours later, Evelyn had spent what little energy she had dragging herself to a clinic. The doctor’s words had been blunt: a hairline fracture in her knee. Rest and hospitalization were recommended. But Evelyn had refused, swallowing painkillers instead.
Now, after kneeling in the snow for hours, the pain had reached unbearable levels, radiating up her leg and threatening to consume her.
Christopher didn’t know any of this. He only saw her silence, interpreting it as stubbornness. His frustration mounted.
“I’ve been too lenient with you,” he finally said, his voice low but cutting. “But this time, Evelyn, I won’t let it slide.”
With that, he turned and walked into the house, leaving her alone in the biting cold.
Evelyn tilted her head back, staring at the sky as snowflakes continued to fall, their icy edges slicing into her skin like tiny knives.
The wind howled, relentless, tugging at her hair and clothes. Her lips quirked upward in a faint, bitter smile.
“You haven’t been soft on me for a long time, Chris,” she murmured.
***
When Charlotte arrived the next morning, Evelyn was still there—kneeling in the same spot, her body almost entirely buried in snow.
Charlotte snorted derisively, a cruel smile spreading across her face. “This is what happens when you cross me,” she said, her tone dripping with mockery. “So what if you’re Chris’s girlfriend? He’ll always put me first.”
Evelyn didn’t respond. Her lips were pale, her body swaying unsteadily, barely holding itself upright.
Charlotte adjusted her coat, brushing past Evelyn with deliberate force, causing her to stumble to the side.
Once inside, Charlotte shrugged off her coat and hung it neatly by the door. Her mood lightened as she spotted Christopher seated on the sofa, engrossed in a discussion with his assistant, who held a tablet and gestured animatedly.
Charlotte approached with a casual grace, her eyes glinting with anticipation.
