Chapter 5

I slipped away from the exhibition without a sound.

I walked back to my studio, which was now completely contaminated with Chloe's presence.

I stood there in silence for a few minutes.

Then, grabbing a thick black marker.

I drew a massive, aggressive 'X' right across her centerpiece painting.

That night, Ethan stormed into the apartment, screaming at me in a fury.

"Maya! When did you become so malicious? That was Chloe's main exhibition piece! You ruined her painting! What is she supposed to do at the gallery tomorrow?!"

I watched his outrage with dead eyes.

"She got into that exhibition by stealing my spot, didn't she?"

Exposed, Ethan's face flashed with panic.

"Your mental state was unstable back then! That's why I declined it for you. Chloe's style is very similar to yours anyway. I only recommended her; she earned the spot herself!"

Because of my ongoing treatment, Ethan had always managed my submissions.

As my point of contact, all the gallery directors knew him well.

If he recommended someone, they wouldn't think twice.

My hands shook.

I grabbed everything within arm's reach and hurled it at him in a frenzy.

Ethan didn't try to comfort me like he used to. Instead, he slammed the door and left.

I sat in front of my canvas all night again.

The next day, Ethan came back with my favorite pastries to apologize.

He knelt before me, crying and begging for forgiveness, just like he did two years ago.

A sharp ache pierced my chest, and my tears fell alongside his.

It was true that Ethan had sacrificed so much for me over the years.

He pulled me into his arms.

Gently patting my back.

I remembered when we were kids, having no parents, being bullied by other kids. I would hide in his arms and cry, and he would always comfort me like this.

I finally sobbed out loud.

But Ethan remained on his knees.

His hands clenched into fists. After a long, tense silence, he looked up at me with red, pleading eyes.

"Maya... can you do me a favor? Please."

By the time Ethan dragged me to the exhibition venue, I could barely feel my own body.

I followed him inside like a mindless zombie.

The moment we stepped through the doors, dozens of camera flashes blinded me.

"Miss Maya, is it true that Miss Chloe bullied you two years ago?"

"Your brother, Ethan, claims that your depression is cured and that you've forgiven Miss Chloe. Is that true?"

Chloe's art had gone viral online.

But someone she had bullied in the past had exposed her on social media.

The media dug deeper and eventually found me—her most traumatized victim.

Ethan carefully guided me onto the stage.

Facing the sea of flashing lights and probing eyes.

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out.

Ethan had begged me. He begged me to tell everyone that I had forgiven Chloe.

He had tears streaming down his face, claiming that if I didn't help, Chloe's life would be ruined.

My limbs went entirely numb. I could hear Ethan whispering frantically from the side, urging me to speak.

Suddenly, the giant screen behind the stage flashed with my medical records from two years ago.

Photos of my bruised, scarred body were displayed for everyone to see.

Finally, the screen showed my official diagnosis of severe, clinical depression.

I stared at the medical report.

My vision began to blur.

The weight of all those staring eyes was suffocating.

Below the stage, Ethan was looking at me with desperation, pleading with his eyes for me to say the words—to tell everyone I forgave the person who had shattered my life.

My vision went completely black, and I collapsed off the stage.

When I woke up, the hospital room was empty.

Ethan had left a note on the bedside table.

[Chloe is in a really bad place right now. I have to go be with her.]

I threw the note into the trash.

With weak, trembling steps, I walked out of the hospital.

Without packing any bags, I went straight to the airport.

My body was physically exhausted, but my mind had never been clearer.

Only one thought consumed me.

I had to get out.

Before powering off my phone.

A call from Ethan flashed on the screen.

He asked frantically, "Maya, where are you? The doctor said you aren't cleared to leave the hospital yet—"

I didn't say a word. I just shut down the phone.