For ten years, I harbored a secret crush on Layla, my childhood sweetheart. Then, a devastating car accident left her unable to walk again. Her fiancé, Brandon, and all the men who’d once vied for her attention vanished overnight. Even the wealthy Harrison family disowned her as an heir. Only I stayed, putting my own education on hold, dedicating two years to caring for her, and tirelessly searching for top specialists. But the moment she stood on her own two feet again, she shattered my world. At the engagement party I had secretly arranged for her, she publicly announced her decision to fulfill her previous engagement to Brandon Thorne. When I confronted her, Layla clutched my hand, her voice laced with deep affection. “Karl, I can’t let it go. I’m marrying him to get revenge for him abandoning me back then. You have to believe me, I only love you.” Yet, during a game of Truth or Dare, Brandon, holding the King card, pointed at me. “Karl Reed, pick any girl here, and kiss her for one minute.” My eyes, pleading for help, sought Layla’s. But she just turned her head away. “Don’t look at me, Karl. I’m exclusively Brandon’s.” 1 I stood there, frozen in awkwardness. A few girls nearby exchanged knowing glances, one of them even brazenly calling out, “Karl Reed, I can totally help you out! You’re handsome, so I wouldn’t be losing anything.” Brandon, his arm draped around Layla’s shoulders, smirked. “Karl, don’t tell me you’re a sore loser. If you can’t handle it, just take the penalty shot.” Layla leaned into Brandon, her gaze sweeping over me with a dismissive indifference. It was just a fleeting glance, but no one in this world understood Layla better than I did. I knew that look. I picked up the shot glass of hard liquor from the table and downed it in one gulp. “Karl Reed, are you insane? You forgot you have a severe alcohol allergy?!” Everyone in this social circle knew about my condition. A fiery pain erupted from my throat, searing its way down to my stomach. “Layla, can you drive me home so I can take my medication?” Since she wouldn’t kiss me in front of Brandon, and she obviously didn’t want me interacting with other girls, surely she’d be willing to leave with me. She was the only one on the floor who couldn’t drink, given she was still on her herbal remedies. It made perfect sense for her to drive. “Layla, I’m not done having fun yet.” Brandon whined, playfully squeezing her hand. Someone in the room, I don’t know who started it, suddenly shouted, “Real couples are way more fun to watch! How about a one-minute French kiss from Mr. Thorne and our own Ms. Harrison?” The entire room erupted in cheers, their attention no longer on me. My face was already flushed with an unnatural redness, and my throat began to itch. Their bodies entwined, the crowd started a countdown. “Fifty-eight, fifty-nine… fifty-eight, fifty-seven, fifty-six…” Layla kissed him with a raw, abandoned passion. From my angle, I could see her eyes closed, her lashes fluttering. Her earlobes were faintly pink—a tell-tale sign of her deep arousal. They might have kissed until the end of time, but I couldn’t hold on any longer. I pushed open the villa door. As I was about to step out, I looked back and saw Layla pulling away from Brandon’s lips. Under the dazzling lights, a thin, glistening thread of saliva connected their mouths, an intensely intimate and sickening sight. Perhaps it was the allergic reaction, but my chest felt tight, and I struggled to breathe. Outside, the cool breeze hit me, and my skin began to itch uncontrollably. I resisted the urge to scratch and pulled out my phone to call a ride-share. But Hillside Heights Estate was too remote; no drivers were picking up requests. After waiting for ten minutes, a driver finally accepted, only to cancel the order less than a minute later. At that moment, the humiliation that had been building up completely overwhelmed me. Why did they give me hope, only to snatch it away? The ride-share driver was like that, and so was Layla. My eyes burned, and I crouched down, clutching my shoulders. I must have looked utterly pathetic, weeping and scratching my whole body, like a frantic, desperate monkey. Suddenly, headlights glared, blinding me. By the time my vision cleared, a car had pulled up beside me. The driver’s side door opened, and a woman emerged, dressed in casual athletic wear. As she stood over me, I finally recognized her features. “Karl Reed, what on earth happened to you? You look like death warmed over!” My voice was hoarse, raspy. “Aunt Isabel, my throat is swelling. If you don’t get me home for my medicine, I’m going to die.” 2 Isabel Harrison drove like a maniac, speeding down the road. I gripped the grab handle above the car door, my knuckles white. “Aunt Isabel, I won’t die just yet.” Isabel was Layla’s aunt, her father’s younger sister. “Don’t worry,” she said, her voice laced with what sounded like contempt and anger, “I’m not that useless girl, Layla.” I didn’t know why, but Isabel’s tone was filled with both disdain and a sharp edge of fury. “You’re in this state from an allergy, and what was she doing? Why didn’t she take you to the hospital?” A bitter ache spread through my chest. “She’s not obligated to always take care of me.” “And you were obligated to be her caretaker when her legs were broken?” I lowered my head, remaining silent. Layla and I had grown up together. But in high school, my father’s investments failed. My mother divorced him and married his business rival. My father, unable to bear the shock, entrusted me to his closest friend—Layla’s father—before jumping to his death. So, before high school, I was Layla’s childhood best friend; after, I was an orphan living in her family’s home. After Layla’s car accident, her bones healed, but she simply couldn’t stand up. Mr. Harrison took her to specialists both domestically and abroad, but every diagnosis pointed to irreparable nerve damage. There was no hope of her ever walking again. Mr. Harrison visibly aged ten years overnight. Layla, once a brilliant, favored daughter, transformed into a volatile, bitter invalid. She lashed out indiscriminately at everyone who approached her, including her own father. In despair, Mr. Harrison effectively disowned Layla as an heir and called back his sister, Isabel, who had been traveling the world, entrusting the Harrison Corporation to her. Layla, realizing she’d been abandoned, became even more furious. Only I, ignoring her vicious curses and physical attacks, continued to approach her, to hold her. “Even if the whole world abandons you, I will stay by your side.” I gave up the diploma and degree from a top national university that I was on the verge of earning. I took her to live in a perpetually spring-like coastal town in the South. I cared for her for two years. After she fully recovered, she took my hand and stood before Mr. Harrison and Aunt Isabel. “My recovery, my second chance at life, it’s all because of Karl Reed. I want to be with him forever.” Mr. Harrison’s eyes were brimming with tears of relief, while Isabel simply said, calmly, “Remember what you said.” Layla re-entered the Harrison Corporation, once again becoming the center of attention, the “golden girl.” Those who had once shunned her, now rushed to put her back on a pedestal. Even Brandon Thorne, her former fiancé who had been inseparable from her, only to break off their engagement after her injury forced her out of the company, came crawling back. Brandon had only to ask her, “Layla, didn’t you say you’d always love only me?” And Layla let go of my hand, carefully, deliberately, taking Brandon’s hand right in front of me. “I never intended to go back on my word.” Brandon squeezed her hand back, their fingers intertwining, and his eyes, full of triumph, provocatively watched me from a distance. Back at home, when no one else was around, Layla would throw herself into my arms again. “Karl, I can’t let it go. I’m only doing this to get revenge on him. I only love you.” Her hazel eyes, shaped like a peach blossom, held a deep, intoxicating affection that threatened to drown me. I had loved her for ten years. I was used to being by her side, used to respecting her decisions, even when I felt wronged. Isabel didn’t drive me home. Instead, she took me directly to the hospital. Doctors immediately hooked me up to an IV, pumping me full of anti-allergy medication. “Such a severe alcohol allergy, and you dared to drink hard liquor? Are you trying to die? If you’d come any later, you would have suffocated. Do you think our morgue is too empty?” the doctor snapped. Isabel stood by, watching my face, swollen like a balloon, being verbally flayed by the doctor. I wanted nothing more than to shrink into the bed. On Isabel’s face, two words were clearly written: “Serves you right.” “And you, as next of kin, why aren’t you keeping your… partner in line? Why are you just standing there? Go get the medication!” Indeed, night shift doctors, especially in the ER, seemed to have more pent-up frustration than a banshee. Watching the usually aloof Isabel look so sheepish, the tightness in my chest seemed to dissipate quite a bit. 3 The next morning, I woke up to Layla’s face, etched with guilt, by my bedside. “Karl, you’re awake? I was so worried yesterday when I went looking for you and you were gone. You came to the hospital? Why didn’t you call me? Do you know how anxious I was?” She leaned closer, gently stroking my swollen face. “Thank goodness you’re okay. Don’t throw a tantrum like that again, alright? Be a good boy.” Looking at the faint hickey on her neck, and listening to her chiding tone, I felt like I was speaking to a stranger. Where did I go wrong? Was my mistake not enduring the allergic reaction and suffocation, just to watch them make out? “What am I to you?” My voice was hoarse. She didn’t seem to hear me clearly. “What?” Her eyes darted nervously. “Are you saying you’re thirsty?” She turned her back to me to fetch a water glass, her tall, graceful figure moving freely. Her legs were completely healed, yet I found myself missing the days when she was confined to a wheelchair. Before Layla could hand me the water, the ward door swung open. “Karl Reed, you really got hospitalized for an allergy? Let me see what a severe alcohol allergy looks like.” Brandon entered, practically bouncing with excitement. He took one look at my face and burst into unrestrained laughter. “Our famous heartthrob, this is too hilarious! Your face is so swollen, your eyes are just slits!” He pulled out his phone and started snapping photos of me. “I’ll post these on social media. They’ll get so many likes.” I was in this state because of him, and now he was here to humiliate me further. In an instant, a surge of pure rage shot to my head. I snatched the water glass from Layla’s hand and hurled it at Brandon. The lid wasn’t tightly sealed. When the glass hit Brandon, water splashed onto his skin. He shrieked, jumping back. “Ow! That hurts!” Layla, in a flash, pulled Brandon into the bathroom and turned on the faucet. “Karl Reed tried to use boiling water to disfigure me! He’s so vicious!” Brandon’s accusatory voice carried from the bathroom. “Layla, I was just joking with him! Why would he do this to me? Is he jealous of our love?” Layla’s voice was hushed, but the sound of running water couldn’t entirely muffle her words. “He’s just an orphan our family took in. What right does he have to love me?” Ten minutes later, Layla stormed out, dragging Brandon behind her. Her face was dark, her voice icy. “Apologize.” But all I could hear was her earlier comment. What right do I have to love her? Suddenly, I felt ridiculous. Ever since I lost my family, I had supposedly lost the right to love her. So what was all that unwavering companionship for all these years? Ha. I knew. It was just the rent I owed for living in her house. My education, my ten years of devotion, two years of tirelessly caring for her… that rent was truly expensive. “Did you hear me?” she demanded, raising her hand and swiping it, hitting my IV line. A sharp pain shot through the back of my hand as the needle was tugged. “Apologize! Are you deaf?” She gripped my hand, pressing hard on the spot where the IV had come loose. It hurt so much I sucked in a sharp breath. “What are you faking? Is it more painful than being scalded by hot water?” Brandon complained, rubbing his arm. Layla’s grip tightened, and I felt the needle in my vein might pierce through. Sweat beaded on my forehead from the pain, but the ache in my heart was far worse. I bit back a cry, looking up at Layla. “Did I help you get back on your feet just so you could bully me?” I asked, enunciating each word. Her face twisted into a grotesque mask. She released my hand. “I knew it. I knew you only took care of me to make me indebted to you, to stand on some moral high ground and make me look up to you.” She stared at me, her gaze devoid of the old dependence, filled only with contempt. “Just like this moment.” In that instant, I laughed and cried at the same time. Layla, am I, Karl Reed, truly so contemptible? Looking at her distorted face, it wasn’t me who was contemptible, but my love—it was too pathetic. Then, I won’t love you anymore, okay?
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