Chapter 3
In my previous life, this was how the rift between us began. I was blindly in love with Josh, never realizing that he and my best friend were working together to kill me for my money. I thought he was my soulmate. I clung to him desperately, even as my brother tried to warn me that Josh wasn’t who I thought he was. But I didn’t listen. Blinded by anger, I lashed out at Liam, yelling things I can never take back. “You’re a freak, Liam! You’re trying to control me like I’m some kind of prisoner!” “Do you know why everyone in the neighborhood avoids you? It’s because you’re a monster!” “I hate you! I hate that you’re my brother! Why couldn’t I have been born into another family?!” I’ll never forget the look in his eyes that day. He stood there, pale and hollow, his sharp features carrying the kind of beauty that felt fragile, like glass about to shatter. He didn’t yell back. He didn’t argue. He simply tied me up, turned, and said in the calmest voice: “Dinner’s fish head soup with tofu.” …My favorite dish.
When I snapped out of my memories, I realized I was already tied to a chair. My brother was in the kitchen, cooking dinner. Yes, my brother is a mentally unstable control freak. But what did he ever do wrong? He simply didn’t know how to love me properly. I zoned out again, only to notice my brother standing in front of me, staring down at me. “What’s wrong, Liam?” I looked up at him with a smile. His voice came out low and hoarse, tinged with hesitation. “Why aren’t you fighting me?” His voice hadn’t always been this rough. It had become like this after years of yelling at construction sites and odd jobs to make ends meet—all for me. “You don’t have to tie me up, Liam,” I said gently. “I’m not going to run anymore.” I’ll stay by your side. I’ll help you heal. But he just stared at me coldly. “Can’t fight you into submission, so now you’re trying to sweet-talk me?” He didn’t believe me. He still thought I’d run. Turning sharply, he walked away without a second glance. I cleared my throat, letting my voice soften just enough to tug at his heartstrings. “Liam… it hurts.” Three seconds. That’s all it took. He was back in front of me, frantically kneeling down as if I’d lost a limb. “Where does it hurt? Do we need to go to the hospital? I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He reached out, but then hesitated, his hand trembling in midair. I’d yelled at him before, screamed at him to never touch me. Guilt flickered in his eyes. I reached out, letting my fingers run through his soft black hair. His entire body froze like a statue, his expression one of pure disbelief—like he couldn’t process what had just happened. Leaning down, I traced the corner of his eye with my finger. “Liam, this time…” “Let me protect you.”