My phone rang, and I answered with one hand pressed to my stomach.
“Elizabeth, the hospital just called.” My mother’s voice was sharp, breathless. “Nicholas’s medical funding was cut. Did you offend Philip? Go apologize to him—now!”
“Do you still think you’re some pampered princess?” she pressed, louder, fiercer. “If anything happens to your brother, I’ll never forgive you!”
I lowered my gaze. So this was what Philip meant: I’d better not regret it.
Two years ago, the family business went bankrupt. Shortly after, my father and brother were on their way to a creditors’ meeting when their car was hit head-on. Dad died instantly. My brother was left with a faint pulse, lingering in a vegetative state.
Mom fell apart, her hands clawing at me.
“Where were you?” she screamed. “Your father was supposed to take you with him that day! Do you have any idea?!”
It was Philip who shielded me. He stepped in and offered to cover my brother’s medical expenses.
From that moment on, I knew I owed him even more.
So all these years, I’ve gone along with his wishes. Partly for my brother, partly for the mission—to go back, to rewrite everything.
The scandal back then was huge. Even Philip, who defended me, got dragged into it. He kept reassuring me that it would all pass, but I couldn’t bring myself to imagine any kind of future.
Just as I was about to end it all, a voice echoed in my mind.
It claimed to be a System, drifting through the world. It said if I could complete one task, it would send me back to the day of my debutante ball—to change my fate.
The task? To make Philip truly fall in love with me.
I agreed in under two seconds. Philip and I grew up together. After the scandal, he stayed by my side, caring for me more attentively than ever, even more protective than before. Winning his love seemed effortless.
I refused to believe he didn’t love me.
Now, all of that feels like a slap in the face to the confident girl I once was.
Time is the ultimate proof. Five years have passed, and Philip does not love me.
“Mom, don’t worry,” I said, my voice muffled. “I’ll find the money.”
Pushing my emotions down, I promised again and again that I’d get the funds for my brother’s treatment. Only then did she finally hang up, reluctantly reassured.
My savings were thin. Every month, after covering basic expenses, I still had to pay off the debts my father left behind.
Looking back now, the only good thing all these years was that I never gave up my career for Philip.
Now, painting isn’t just my means of making a living. It’s the only way I have left to remember my father.
In my dream, I was back in that summer.
Philip pulled me from the drowning pool, his lips finding mine in a searing kiss.
“Don’t be scared, Liz,” he whispered. “I’ll protect you from now on.”
And he did. He kept his promise. He protected me. He cherished me.
So when did he change?
I couldn’t figure it out. And I was just so tired.
