Chapter 6
When I got home after signing the contract, the first thing I noticed was a pair of women’s tools sitting by the door.
The house slippers I usually wore were gone. I didn’t need to guess what that meant. I tore open a pair of disposable slippers, slipped them on, and stepped inside.
Hannah’s voice floated out from the kitchen. “Mr. Mitchell, no, that’s not how you do it–let me show you.”
I walked to the doorway and stopped. There they were, standing side by side at the sink, Hannah wrapped around Zach, her hands guiding his, their posture almost intimate.
She was wearing my loungewear. My slippers too. Looking every bit the lady of the house.
And Zach? He was dressed in the matching set. No trace of discomfort in his body language, no resistance. Just relaxed, at ease, sharing a laugh with her over something small.
When I used to step close to him, he’d stiffen, tell me he “wasn’t comfortable around women.”
Turns out it wasn’t about “women.” He just wasn’t comfortable with me.
let out a short, bitter laugh. As if sensing it, Zach turned and saw me. His body went rigid, and in a flash of guilt he nudged Hannah
back
“You’re home already?”
I almost burst out laughing. As if me coming back at my own place was somehow the problem.
“Sorry, Serena,” Hannah piped up sweetly. “I was just teaching Mr. Mitchell how to rinse vegetables. Don’t misunderstand.”
The words were innocent enough, but her eyes glittered with smug delight–hungry to see me snap, jealous, humiliated.
Once upon a time, I would have. I’d have lost it, screamed, demanded Zach throw her out.
But not anymore. Especially not now. The house was already sold, the deposit in my account. I had no reason to waste the energy.
“You two go ahead,” I said calmly. “I’m going to my room.”
I turned on my heel. For a moment, Hannah looked startled, confused that I hadn’t risen to the bait. Zach too seemed caught off guard.
He’d braced himself for an argument.
Instead, he did something he never used to do–he explained. “It’s Hannah’s birthday. She wanted to celebrate with us, so I brought her
over.”
Once, he’d have just rolled his eyes at me, sneered, “If you don’t like it, leave.”
Now he was justifying himself. And the irony? He’d never remembered my birthday. But for Hannah, he was making excuses.
“Have fun then,” I said lightly, and closed myself in my room.
Most of my things were already packed–clothes, books, everyday items. What was left would be gone soon enough.
I was debating whether to finish the last of it when the door suddenly swung open.
Hannah walked in, holding a small plate of cake. She let her eyes sweep the half–empty room and snickered.
“Looks like it’s emptier than last time I came. Guess you’re finally being sensible and making your exit.”
Lignored her, tapping away on my phone, texting a friend about moving arrangements,
talking to you. Are you deaf?”
Not being acknowledged wiped the smirk off her face. Her tone turned sharp as she stepped close
I lifted my eyes to hers, gave a dry chuckle. “Why do you care so much? It’s not like you’ll ever get
“You!“That single sentence hit something raw. Her face darkened instantly. She raised a hand, fingers curling toward
move in.”
Before I could move, footsteps echoed in the hall. In a split second, Hannah flung the cake to the floor and collapsing in a heap.
Chapter 6
my
collar.
practiced scream,
20.69%
“Hannah! What happened?“Zach burst through the door, shoving me aside as he rushed to her.
I stumbled back. A shard of broken plate pierced straight through my slipper into my heel. Warm blood welled up, seeping fast.
Zach didn’t notice. He was too busy cradling Hannah’s hand, where the plate had left a faint scratch. A scratch so light it barely grazed
the skin.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Mitchell,” Hannah whimpered, eyes shining with tears. “I just wanted everyone to have cake for my birthday. I thought I’d bring Serena a piece too. I didn’t realize she’d be upset…”
If I weren’t the one being framed, even I might have believed her. I’d never once said I disliked cake. Quite the opposite–I loved it. Maybe because I’d rarely had one growing up. Every birthday, I’d mention it.
Zach used to mock me for it, saying, “If you like cake that much, one day you’ll just roll around like a ball.”
But now, with Hannah in front of him, he’d conveniently forgotten. Instead, he jabbed a finger at me, face tight with anger.
“Even if you don’t like it, does that mean you can smash plates and push people? Serena, I thought you’d learned. But clearly, you’re still the same jealous, petty girl.
Apologize to Hannah–or else… You’re so vindictive, I’m not even sure I want this relationship anymore. Maybe we should just break up.”
His rage would’ve crushed the old me. I thought of that night outside the private room, hearing Hannah’s taunts. I thought of all the times Zach had used “breakup” as a weapon when our fights got too heated.
And I thought of how I used to beg him not to leave me. How once, I’d even dropped to my knees. Because I truly believed he didn’t mean it, that it was just a way to scare me into backing down.
But I eventually realized–he probably had breakup on his mind all along. That’s why he dangled it so often, so easily.
This time, it didn’t sting. Because I already had the same intention. Whether he said it or not, I was done.
My silence must have looked like fear to him, because his tone softened.
“You’ve been sneaking around lately. I figured it was wedding preparations. I know you don’t want to break up. Just apologize to Hannah and…”
“Don’t bother,” I cut him off, voice flat and final. “I agree. We should break up.”
