2
ache in my heart.
Harper pressed against me, letting out soft whimpers, licking my hand as if trying to take the pain away.
Miguel glanced down at Saoirse’s frightened face in his arms, a twinge tightening in his chest.
Then he turned to me, his gaze filled with disapproval.
“Belle, don’t be childish. A dog isn’t more important than a person.”
“Get rid of it tomorrow.”
#57 pm
“Okay.”
3
I heard my own voice, soft, distant as if it might disappear with the wind.
A flicker of unease passed through Miguel’s eyes, but then he noticed the blood on me.
He stepped forward, his voice trembling. “Belle, what happened to you?”
Back when I was hospitalized, he hadn’t shown up once.
Instead, Saoirse had kept me updated, sending sweet snapshots of them together through her
alternate account.
The knife had missed my heart by only a centimeter. While I was being rushed into the ICU, they were announcing their love to the press.
Miguel lit ninety-nine fireworks to declare his devotion to her while my body was drained of blood and refilled nine times over.
As they designed matching rings and whispered promises of forever, I writhed in pain from wound debridement.
I had hidden my injury and hospitalization from him, just as he had hidden his romance with her from me.
What a joke.
I lowered my gaze, fighting the sting in my nose. “It’s Harper’s blood. I’m fine.”
Miguel let out a breath, relieved, and spoke like it was just another arrangement.
“Baby, you have no idea how insane the paparazzi have been lately. Saoirse’s been follower nonstop ever since that trending post.”
“Your room is private and secure. Let her stay in it.”
Who could understand the madness of his paparazzi better than me?
When the blade pierced my flesh, cold struck first, then came the pain.
A searing, bone-deep agony that made every nerve scream.
“Belle?”
Miguel called again, impatience creeping into his voice.
I blinked back to the present and nodded slowly. “Alright.”
While packing the next morning, I suddenly realized I didn’t own much.
Everything I had fit neatly into a single suitcase.
When I rolled it out, Miguel’s brows furrowed. “Belle, what’s the meaning of this?”
I gave a faint smile. “Of course, I’m moving out too. With the paparazzi circling, it wouldn’t look good if news broke that you were living with two women.”
His eyes darkened, the shock in them unmistakable.
He stood still for a long moment before finally whispering, guilt weighing on his face.
“You’re always thinking about me. I’m sorry for making you go through this. I’ll make it up to you
later…”
I clutched Harper closer and said nothing. His apologies no longer moved me. I left the villa
alone.
It wasn’t until I reached the hotel that I finally had the chance to treat my wounds.
The wounds on my arm and lower back still ached with a dull sting.
The stab to my chest, inflicted a month ago while wrestling a camera from a crazed paparazzi throbbed with every movement.
And the scar on my knee? That one came from three years back when I tripped onto shattered glass while fighting to land Miguel a role.
On rainy nights and cold mornings, the pain crept back up from the bone.
Six years ago, I had been soft. Fragile. A girl who cried over the slightest scrape.
I still remember the day I fell and skinned my elbow and knee. Blood beaded and trickled slowly.
Miguel had looked heartbroken, gently wiping away the blood. “We need to disinfect it with alcohol, or it’ll leave a scar.”
“But it stings,” I pouted, swatting at his hand. “Just cover it. No alcohol.”
He chuckled, cupped the back of my neck, and pressed a kiss to my lips, hard and sudden.
I forgot to breathe, lost in the heat of it.
And when I came back to myself, the wound was already dressed.
The girl who once cried over a scratch was now layered in scars.
A wave of dizziness crashed over me, and I drifted into sleep.
In the haze, I could feel the fever setting in.
My chest wound burned with a raw ache, and in a daze, my fingers found his number.
The line rang, and then his voice came softly through the speaker.
“Belle?”
I tried to speak, but it felt like my throat was lined with blades. No sound would come out.
His voice, cold and clipped, came through the phone. “You’d better remember you have work this afternoon. I want to see you in ten minutes.”
Ever since he stepped into the entertainment world, I have made his career my own.
I handled endorsements, contracts, and interviews.
For six years, there has not been a single mistake.
I swallowed a fever pill and forced my aching body out the door.
“Miguel, I don’t remember any meetings today…”
Before I could finish, I saw her.
Saoirse was already seated in the leather chair, smiling sweetly.
“I just found out, so Sister’s been working as Miguel’s assistant all this time?”
Miguel walked in right then, dressed sharply in a tailored suit.
1:57 pm
“Belle, you’re Saoirse’s sister. Take care of her for me. I’ll be right back.”
I stood frozen as though I had fallen into a pit of ice. The pain in my chest flared again.
So this was the important task he mentioned, babysitting his darling lover.
“Sister, I want coffee-”
Saoirse beamed at me. “From that shop downtown, hot latte with sugar.”
The shop she mentioned was over ten kilometers away.
My feverish body trembled with every step, cold sweat soaking my forehead.
When I finally returned, Saoirse’s smile vanished. “Didn’t I say iced Americano, no sugar? G back and get the right one!”
Cold sweat slid down my temples. My vision blurred.
And then, darkness.
Just before I collapsed completely, I vaguely heard Miguel’s panicked voice.
“Belle-!”
1:57 pm
