Chapter 3

Amelie POV:

The words hung in the air, sharp and final.

Kalie' s face crumpled, her practiced tears turning into genuine-looking sobs. "Moving out? But... where will I go?" She clutched Alex' s arm, burying her face in his shoulder like a frightened child.

Alex shot me a look of pure fury, wrapping a protective arm around Kalie. "See what you' ve done?" he hissed.

I felt nothing. No anger, no jealousy. Just a vast, weary emptiness. It was like watching a play where I knew the lines but had forgotten the emotions behind them.

Bailey stepped forward, her face a mask of disappointment. "Amelie, that' s not fair. This is Kalie' s home too. She has nowhere else to go. You can' t just throw her out on her birthday."

I looked at Bailey, the woman I' d once called my sister. The woman whose disastrous first design project I had stayed up for seventy-two straight hours to help fix, saving her from being fired. The woman who had cried on my shoulder for weeks after her first big breakup. She' d thanked me then, her words effusive. "I don' t know what I' d do without you, Amy. You' re the most loyal person I know."

Now, that loyalty was a one-way street, and I was on the wrong side of it. All her support was directed at Kalie, the charming, weeping victim.

"This isn' t your business, Bailey," I said, my voice cold.

"Of course it is!" Alex cut in, his voice rising. "These are our friends! You can' t just make a scene and expect everyone to ignore it. You' re still holding a grudge over one stupid mistake."

He gestured vaguely between himself and Kalie. "She' s a kid! She made a mistake. Are you going to hold it over her head forever? You' re supposed to be the adult here!"

His words were a torrent, designed to drown me in guilt. But I was already numb. I watched his mouth move, heard the angry accusations, and felt... nothing.

He was right about one thing. I was the adult. I had been the adult since I was twenty-two, forced to raise my father' s child. But I wasn' t going to be the adult in his manufactured drama anymore.

Kalie peeked out from behind Alex' s arm, her eyes red and swollen. She reached a tentative hand toward me. "Amelie... please don' t be mad. I' ll do anything. Please don' t make me leave." Her voice was a pathetic whisper. "I have nowhere else to go."

My body reacted before my mind could. I flinched back, pulling my arm away as if her touch were toxic.

It was a small, instinctive movement.

But Kalie was a master performer. She stumbled backward with a dramatic cry, collapsing onto the grass as if I had struck her.

The crowd gasped.

Alex reacted instantly. He shoved me aside-a real, forceful shove this time-and knelt by Kalie' s side. "Kalie! Are you okay? Did she hurt you?"

He was looking at her with a raw, frantic concern I hadn' t seen on his face in years. Not even when I was the one lying on the floor with my head bleeding. The sight of it was a physical blow, a phantom pain from a wound the ECT hadn' t quite erased.

"My ankle," Kalie whimpered, clutching her leg. "I think it' s twisted. Alex, can you... can you carry me inside?"

It was a blatant, calculated move. A test of his allegiance.

He didn' t hesitate. He scooped her up into his arms, his movements careful and tender. As he stood, he looked over her shoulder at me, his eyes filled with a disgust that was utterly soul-crushing.

"I' m so disappointed in you, Amelie," he said, his voice low and venomous.

Then he turned and carried her into the house, leaving me alone in a sea of hostile faces.

I smoothed down my sleeve, my fingers tracing the faint, silvery lines on my wrist from a time I didn' t want to remember, a time of different pain. It was a nervous habit, something to ground me.

The party guests stared at me, their eyes a mixture of condemnation and contempt. Bailey shook her head, a look of profound pity on her face, before turning to her new husband. "Let' s just go celebrate somewhere else. This is just... too much."

They began to disperse, chattering in low, judgmental tones, pointedly avoiding my gaze.

"I can' t believe her."

"Poor Kalie."

"She' s always been so jealous."

Jealous. The word was a punch to the gut. I looked at the house, the life I had built, the people I had called friends, and felt a surge of something hot and sharp, something that sliced through the numb fog.

"Get out," I said, my voice louder now, clearer. "All of you. Get out of my house."

Someone snickered. A woman I barely knew, a plus-one of one of Alex' s colleagues. "Don' t be such a bitch, Amelie. It' s not a good look. No wonder Alex prefers your sister."

The cruelty of it stole my breath.

As the last of them filed out, leaving a trail of discarded napkins and half-empty glasses, Bailey was the last to go. She paused at the gate, turning back to look at me.

"He was hesitant, you know," she said, her voice soft, as if sharing a secret. "When he carried her inside. He looked back at you."

I just stared at her, uncomprehending.

She sighed. "This isn' t him, Amelie. He loves you. You just need to be the bigger person here."

Then she left, closing the gate behind her with a soft click, sealing me inside my empty, violated home.