Aya
I was about to leave my room to get a bit of fresh air when Cliffe appeared, leaning casually against my door frame. His dark hair was disheveled, his expression unreadable.
“Who were you talking to on the phone?” he asked, his tone sharp.
I froze. “You misheard,” I replied quickly. “I was watching a video.”
Before he could respond, Evelyn’s soft voice called from the kitchen.
“Cliffe, breakfast is ready! Is Aya coming down?”
Evelyn stepped into view, radiant as always, her smile dripping with false sweetness. “Good morning, Aya! I made sandwiches… your favorite! Cliffe told me what you liked.”
I clenched her fists. “You two enjoy,” I said coldly. “I’m not hungry.”
As I turned to leave, Cliffe grabbed her arm. “Don’t be rude,” he said, frowning. “Evelyn went out of her way to make this for you. The least you could do is sit down.”
My laugh was sharp and bitter. “Rude? You’re calling me rude?”
Cliffe’s brows furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m tired, Cliffe,” I said, my voice trembling. “Tired of being the one who always gets hurt while you make excuses for her. Tired of being invisible unless it’s convenient for you.”
His gaze dropped to my hand, where faint scars from our childhood still lingered. For a moment, something softened in his expression, but Evelyn quickly stepped between us, her voice dripping with concern.
“Take a look at my leg! Where she spilled hot tea on and the porcelain cut my skin.” I screamed. “Did you bother to check up on me again?” There was a tinge of guilt in his eyes as he glanced at my bandaged feet.
“Aya, I’m so sorry if I upset you,” she said, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. “I just wanted to share a piece of Cliffe’s past. I didn’t realize it would cause so much trouble…”
My chest burned with suppressed anger. “Save it, Evelyn,” I snapped. “I’ve had enough of your games.”
Evelyn’s face fell, her lips parting in a practiced look of hurt. Cliffe glanced between us, torn.
“Aya,” he began, his tone softer now. “Don’t do this.”
But I shook her head, stepping back. “No, Cliffe. You don’t do this. Don’t pretend you care when you’ve made it clear where your loyalties lie.”
Before he could respond, I turned and walked out the door, the cool morning air rushing against my face. For the first time in years, I felt free.
