chapter 3

My phone buzzed a few times next to me.

Olivia had just updated her social media.

The caption read, “Only where you are can be called home.”

The photo showed Gabriel cooking for Olivia in the kitchen.

There he was, sleeves rolled up, his arms covered in oil burns.

Probably the first time in five years Gabriel ever stepped foot in a kitchen.

And usually that was always me standing there.

Countless nights, just to get Gabriel to come home, I’d choked down that stupid saying, “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

But now I finally got it.

No matter how good the home cooking was, that trash out there still smelled tempting when one had never tasted it.

[So jealous of Olivia. You guys must be happy together.]

[This is what they call seeing true love in hard times.]

[If anyone dares say this is scripted for clout, I’ll fight them.]

...

In the comments section, netizens expressed nothing but envy and blessings for their perfect little life, even asking about their wedding date.

Olivia replied to all, “That’s up to him. I’m content just being by his side.”

I snorted.

Then I tapped into her profile and hit Unfollow.

My phone buzzed again after just a few minutes.

Gabriel had texted me on WhatsApp.

“Spaghetti—do I break the noodles before boiling?

“Grilled cheese sandwich—butter or cheese first?”

I didn’t reply.

For the first time, I unpinned Gabriel from my top chats.

Then I blocked him.

After pulling an all-nighter, I finally finished the draft.

But something felt off.

Then I remembered a design from three years ago.

Back then, I’d gotten pregnant unexpectedly.

I thought the baby would make Gabriel reconsider our relationship.

I believed he would propose to me.

In that giddy excitement, I’d drawn dozens of designs—all overflowing with my longing and dreams about marriage.

They happened to perfectly fit this competition’s theme.

The reason my current draft felt flat was probably because I was completely disillusioned with marriage and love.

Now I simply couldn’t design with that original heartfelt meaning.

But those old sketches were still at Gabriel’s place.

I rushed back in frantic haste.

Thank god I’d been in such a hurry yesterday that I still had my key.

But when I stuck the key into the lock, it wouldn’t turn.

The next second, the door swung open from inside.

Olivia sat in a wheelchair right in front of me.

She said, “Sloane?

“What are you doing here?”

She fumbled for an excuse, “Last night, a thief broke into our house. For my safety, Gabriel had the lock cylinder changed overnight.”

I smirked. “How convenient.”

I’d lived in this complex for five years.

I knew the security better than Olivia ever would.

Were they keeping thieves out or keeping me out?

The answer was pretty obvious.

“It’s true. Ask Gabriel if you don’t believe me. I’m really not lying to you.”

As Olivia spoke, she lunged for my arm out of nowhere.

She continued, “If you’re mad, I’ll call to change the lock cylinder back right now.”

I sidestepped on reflex.

Olivia missed her grab and tumbled straight out of her wheelchair.

Gabriel shouted, “Sloane!”

He suddenly rushed up from behind me, shoving me aside.

Caught completely off guard, I slammed into the entryway cabinet from the impact.

The vase on the floor toppled over from my impact, shattering across the floor.

I got this vase with Gabriel five years ago on our trip to Porcelaine.

It had always been kept in the study before.

Why was it here now?

Gabriel kicked the broken pieces aside without a care, making sure Olivia wouldn’t get hurt.

He bent down and scooped her up in his arms, carefully checking her over.

Once he confirmed she was fine, he rounded on me and said, eyes blazing,

“Are you done yet?

“Even jealousy has limits. Olivia’s leg injury hasn’t healed yet. How could you push her?”

I watched the dramatic performance coldly.

“She fell on her own—”

Olivia cut me off, playing the saint,

“Just me being clumsy. Totally not her fault.

“Gabriel, explain that we didn’t change the lock cylinder to keep her out.”

Gabriel scowled. “Sloane, if you had half of Olivia’s understanding, we wouldn’t be in this mess.”

They tag-teamed until I looked like some bully picking on the disabled.

I couldn’t be bothered to argue.

I just headed straight for the study to grab my sketches.

Gabriel wheeled Olivia after me and said,

“So you remember where home is now.

“Apologize to Olivia, and I’ll let this slide.”

I tuned them out, grabbed my sketches, and checked—yep, all there. I walked past them toward the door.

Then I saw it.

By the entryway cabinet, mixed with the broken vase pieces, was a pile of other stuff.

Without exception, they were all mine.

Gabriel said, “Here’s a new key. Take it, and stop making things difficult for Olivia over petty stuff.”

The key hung in mid-air.

I didn’t take it.

Not far away, Olivia’s face twisted before she forced out through gritted teeth,

“That’s right. Sloane, you don’t need to hate me this much.”

I said, “Cut the act.”

Looking at this pair, I fought down a wave of nausea.

I continued, “Want this man? Take him. Save the performance.

“Hope you two stay locked together forever—do the world a favor.”

Gabriel’s face darkened.

He yanked my arm, voice sharp as a blade.

“Sloane, what’s that supposed to mean?”