Packing to Leave Home

Julian’s voice was low, laced with a cold authority that brooked no refusal. I turned my head, irritation flickering in my eyes. “Explain what?” Anger shadowed his face as his gaze roamed over me. But when our eyes met—when he saw the hurt and hatred buried in mine—something in him seemed to sting. His voice faltered for half a second before he forced it steady again. “Evangeline’s gown. What happened to it?” I followed his gaze. Under the light, the feathers of the haute couture dress shimmered beautifully—except the hem was torn, threads frayed and uneven, the mark of something ripped by hand. My fingers curled tightly at my side until my knuckles turned white. “So,” I said, my voice cutting through the air like a blade, “you think I ruined it on purpose?” “The entire time, you were the only one who had access to my car,” he replied, voice cold as ice. “You were the only one who could’ve touched the gown.” Evangeline immediately began to sob again, her voice choked and trembling. “Aria, why would you do that?” Marielle rushed to speak, still wearing that calm, gentle facade. “Aria, I know you’ve been holding onto resentment. Let’s just forget about today, all right? Don’t make things worse—” “Ha.” A sharp, humorless laugh escaped me, cutting her off. I locked eyes with her, each word deliberate, unyielding: “Julian’s car has a dashcam. Whether I touched that gown or not—one look at the footage will tell us.” The air fell silent in an instant. I could feel the eyes of the crowd darting between me and Julian, waiting. I went on, my tone steady but laced with fire. “To prove my innocence, I demand that Julian open his phone and play the footage—right here, in front of everyone.” Evangeline’s composure cracked; I saw panic flash across her face. She clutched her skirt, voice trembling. “Sister, there’s no need to check the footage…” Marielle jumped in quickly, smoothing things over. “Aria, all the guests are here. Please, don’t make a scene.” Nathaniel finally stepped forward, his brows furrowed. “That’s enough. Aria, go take care of your wound first.” There it was again. “That’s enough.” They never wanted to hear me out—just wanted me to stay quiet and obedient. A burning pain spread across my chest, and my breath trembled. I suddenly yanked my hand free from Julian’s grip and shouted, “If we don’t check the surveillance footage, are you just going to let me carry the blame for ‘ruining the dress’ forever?” My eyes swept over them, sharp and steady. “I’m not afraid to check. Why are you?—What are you so afraid of?” I looked at each of them in turn—Nathaniel, Marielle, Julian, Evangeline. In that moment, even the air seemed to freeze. They were all avoiding me. Nathaniel’s gaze flickered, Marielle lowered her head, and Evangeline even cried as if afraid her tears might offend someone. As for Julian—he had still been angry a moment ago, but under the edge of my stare, he faltered too. A cold, mirthless laugh slipped from my lips, my voice low but clear. “Not going to say it? Then let me help you.” I pointed at the hem of Evangeline’s gown, my tone as calm as if reciting a formula. “When Julian received the dress, it was perfectly fine. The cameras can prove I never touched it along the way. But the moment it reached Evangeline, it ended up like this— do I really need to spell out who ruined it?” I watched the color drain from their faces and went on, “So—that’s why you don’t dare check the footage. Because once you do, no one can pin this on me anymore. And no one can make me ‘take the fall for someone else’ again, right?” “Take the fall for someone else.” I deliberately emphasized those six words. In that instant, I saw Nathaniel’s shoulders stiffen, and Marielle’s composure shattered completely. Her tears came without warning, spilling down her face in a helpless flood. “Aria, it’s not like that…” Her voice trembled, almost pleading. “Please, listen to me. You and Evangeline are both my daughters. You’re both part of me—how could I ever bear to hurt either of you…” If this were three years ago—if I were still that naive girl clinging to the hope that love could fix everything— I might have cried and forgiven her on the spot. But I’m not the Aria from three years ago. I’ve lived through the darkness of prison, the cold of concrete walls, and the nightmares of being betrayed again and again. This kind of “I couldn’t bear to” tenderness— to me, it’s nothing but disgusting. “Say whatever you want,” I murmured. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” I turned away, too tired to even look at them again. The pain in my leg flared with every step, each one a reminder— This house had always been my cage. When I reached the corner, I stopped short. Lucas was there. He stood quietly, tall and composed, as if he had been waiting for me all along. His gaze met mine—and in that moment, I knew. He had seen everything. My chest tightened. But I didn’t stop. I pretended not to see him and kept walking, each step feeling like it crushed something inside me. I didn’t want any connection with him. I just wanted to leave. But just as we were about to pass each other, his voice came— Low, steady, and heartbreakingly gentle: “Aria, I believe you.” My steps faltered for a second. Believe. Such an easy word. And yet, when I needed it most—who among them ever truly believed in me? I didn’t look back. My lips pressed into a thin line as I forced myself to walk faster. But because of my injured leg, that “faster” only made my steps uneven, Like someone trying, desperately, to run from herself. I knew exactly how wretched I must have looked, Limping, covered in blood. But I’d rather look like this than let anyone pity me again. Behind me, I heard a sharp intake of breath—his breath— But he never called my name. By the time I made it back to the storage room, I was half-dragging my own body. The old folding bed groaned beneath me as I sank down onto it, The sound sharp in the suffocating quiet. Exhaustion washed over me, slow and heavy, like a tide that never recedes. I stared blankly at the ceiling, my mind empty. This house, Once the place I’d tried so desperately to belong to had become the prison I wanted most to escape. The nightmare from three years ago… I thought it had ended. But now I see—it never really did. I took a deep breath, forced myself to stand, and began to pack. Looking around, the so-called “room” was almost bare. Everything that was mine could fit into a single plastic bag, A few clothes, nothing more. My fingers trembled slightly as I stuffed the worn garments inside. It was time to go. For good. I reached for the door. But before my hand even touched the knob— It swung open from the other side. I froze. A familiar figure stood in the doorway, Her expression frozen in disbelief, as if time itself had stopped. “Miss Aria? It really is you?”