Third Person's POV
Zera froze. “So, it was you who called the reporters?”
“Of course,” Calvert said smugly, planting a kiss on her cheek. “Now the whole city knows what kind of trash Vernon really is. No one’s going to question your decision anymore.”
Zera forced a smile, but a strange sense of irritation stirred inside her. That old, beat-up bicycle kept flashing in her mind.
A few seconds passed, and she suddenly asked, “Calvert, do you know how to ride a bike now?”
Calvert scoffed. “Why would I bother? I’ve got cars with four wheels. Why risk falling on some rusty piece of junk? I’m not a fool like Vernon. You know I’ve always hated pain since I was a kid.”
Hearing that, something in Zera’s heart sank.
She reopened the video and watched it more closely, scanning every inch of Vernon’s body.
Calvert noticed how intently she was watching and got a little annoyed.
“He’s got no shame,” he muttered. “Riding a bike half-naked in front of all those people. Good thing we kicked him out. Otherwise, our family would get dragged through the mud.”
But despite those insults, Zera wasn’t listening to him as she was looking for something, but she couldn’t find it.
After a moment’s hesitation, she left Calvert behind and ran upstairs to Vernon’s now-empty bedroom.
She dug through the storage box, flipping through an old photo album filled with childhood pictures of the three of them.
Out of the whole thick book, there was only one photo of Vernon.
It was taken years ago, on a summer day at the beach in New York.
In the photo, she was holding Calvert’s hand, laughing happily on the shore.
Vernon stood in the background, off to the side, not smiling. He was holding her inflatable swim ring, like a forgotten servant who didn’t belong.
But what caught her eye was the bandage wrapped around his shoulder.
Seeing that, Zera’s body tensed. Then, like a crashing wave, a forgotten memory came flooding back.
That summer, she had snuck off to play on the back mountain and accidentally tumbled down a slope. Her body was scratched and bleeding, and everything had started to blur.
Just before she passed out, a boy picked her up and placed her on the back seat of his bicycle, pedaling like mad down the rough mountain path.
The road was so bumpy that the pain became unbearable. Instinctively, she bit down hard on the boy’s shoulder.
His skin tore open, and blood gushed out.
But he didn’t make a sound.
Instead, he comforted her softly, “Don’t be scared. We’re almost at the hospital.”
When she woke up, Calvert was the one standing beside her bed. The nurse told her she was incredibly lucky.
A boy had ridden a bicycle more than ten kilometers down the mountain, exhausting himself to the point of collapse in the hospital hallway.
Lying there in bed, she asked Calvert if he was the one who saved her.
He looked surprised just for a moment.
But he didn’t deny it.
Now Zera sat frozen, struggling to breathe.
It all made sense now.
All this time, she believed Calvert had saved her. That belief had fueled a special affection for him, which made her mourn him more deeply than she ever admitted.
But today, she finally realized how horribly wrong she’d been.
