Chapter 4
Skylar looked up at the sky.
And the rain fell gently, each drop mingling with the cherry blossoms, which drifted like fragile snowflakes in the soft breeze. Petals danced through the air, their delicate beauty blurring beneath the streetlights, as if the world itself had become a fleeting dream of spring's quiet sadness.
The scene was strangely beautiful.
She let out a sigh and kept walking until she stopped in front of a familiar house.
Moving past the gate, the security guard gave her a quick nod of recognition. She rang the bell, and soon, the door swung open.
A familiar face appeared—blond hair tied into a messy bun, blue eyes widening the moment they landed on her.
"What are you doing here?" Rora's voice was sharp, her gaze darting around as if she were expecting someone to jump out of the shadows.
Skylar met her eyes briefly before lowering her gaze. "I need your help... I don't have anywhere else to go." Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Rora mumbled something too soft to hear, but before Skylar could ask, Rora grabbed her arm and yanked her inside, slamming the door shut behind them.
"You shouldn't be here, Skylar!" she hissed, gripping Skylar's shoulders tightly.
Skylar blinked slowly, her eyes burning. Her throat was dry—when was the last time she ate? Even so, she forced the words out.
"Wh—"
Before she could finish, Rora cut her off.
"If your father finds out you're here, do you know what will happen to me?" Her voice wavered as she stared at the floor. Then, quieter, she whispered, "I don't want to end up like you... I'm sorry, Skylar."
Skylar didn't move.
Why?
Why did the people she trusted—people who once swore to stand by her—disappear the moment she needed them?
After everything they had been through, Rora still chose Phoebe.
She had witnessed everything—how Skylar's parents cast her aside, how they treated Mark and Phoebe like royalty while treating her like she barely existed.
She had been there when Skylar cried in her arms as a child, seeking comfort no one else would give.
And yet, in the moment Skylar needed her the most, she was turning away.
Skylar exhaled shakily, forcing a small nod. Then, too slowly, she asked,
"You saw everything that happened to me, didn't you?"
Rora froze. She opened her mouth, then closed it again. No words came.
"Right?" Skylar pressed.
Rora let out a shaky breath before nodding.
"But still," Skylar's voice dropped, the warmth vanishing. "You act like I'm the problem. Like I'm overreacting. Like what they did was fine."
Her calm exterior cracked.
She had never been the type to lash out, always swallowing her pain, telling herself that things would get better.
But nothing ever got better.
And she was done choosing silence.
"After everything I did for you... YOU STILL CHOSE PHOEBE!" Her voice shattered the room, raw with betrayal.
Rora squeezed her eyes shut, her makeup smudging as tears fell freely.
But for the first time in forever, Skylar didn't care.
She didn't fucking care.
"I WENT THROUGH HELL FOR YOU—AND THIS IS WHAT I GET?!" Her voice cracked, but she kept going. She couldn't stop. Her vision blurred, but she refused to blink the tears away.
"I stood up to my father for you. I didn't care when he punished me, when he sent me outside in the freezing snow just because I tried to help you! If you were okay, that was all that mattered to me!"
Skylar's shoulders trembled, but she bit down on her lip, forcing herself to keep speaking.
No matter how much she tried to be strong, she was still weak.
And she hated that about herself.
She was like a honeybee, using her stinger to protect others—only to destroy herself in the process.
Rora slid down against the door, covering her mouth with both hands, her sobs shaking her body. "I'm sorry… Skylar," she whispered.
Sorry?
Skylar clenched her fists.
Tears streamed from her red, swollen eyes, soaking into her skin.
Sometimes, tears are the only way your body can speak when words fail.
Right now, there was no way to put this pain into words. It felt like all the air in the room had vanished, leaving her gasping.
Memories flooded back like a tidal wave, dragging her under.
Since childhood, she had been chasing after affection, desperately trying to be the golden child, trying to make them love her.
And what did she get in return?
Discarded. Forgotten. Unloved.
Just like when she met Ethan.
He had been the first person to give her attention, to treat her like she mattered. She had fallen in love instantly.
And because of that love, she had been blind. Too naive to realize it was all an illusion.
She was just a lost child, seeking love in the wrong places.
The realization made her laugh—a cold, empty sound.
After pain, sorrow, and anger, there was only one thing left to do.
She shut her heart off.
Like a tortoise retreating into its shell at the first sign of danger, she built walls around herself in an instant.
How pathetic.
She pitied her younger self—the little girl locked in the basement, forced to listen to her family laughing upstairs at the Christmas party.
A holiday meant for family.
She had been locked away simply because she didn't like the pink dress they forced on her.
They had called her spoiled when she cried, pounding on the door, begging,
"I'll wear it, Mama! Please!"
No one came.
The laughter above had been deafening.
She had wanted to be there too—to be hugged, adored, asked how school was.
Like every other child.
But she wasn't like every other child.
She was just a girl robbed of her parents' love.
And the most tragic part?
She still wanted it.
But she was too afraid to reach for it.
Like a stray cat, forever craving affection—yet too scared to trust it.