Chapter 4

But I didn't die. I slept a long time and when I opened my eyes, my father was there. He looked like he'd aged ten years in a single night.

I understood then. I needed to stay.

After that, I deleted every way to reach Callum and Vivienne.

Callum had gotten into his top-choice institute. Vivienne followed him to the capital.

He went exactly where he wanted. Just not with me.

I had my mother's medical bills. I didn't want to put more weight on my father. I didn't reapply.

I picked up my sketchbook instead.

It was hard at first. But these past few years things had slowly improved.

As I was sorting through my drawings, I realized five years had passed.

Then my phone rang.

It was a buyer who had purchased one of my paintings last week. I picked up. The voice on the other end was one I hadn't heard in a long time.

"Hi. I'm here to pick up the painting. I'm at your door."

Seeing Callum again didn't shake me the way I expected.

He looked the same as I remembered, except five years had smoothed out the younger edges and replaced them with something steadier.

When he saw it was me, he went still.

"Hazel? It's you?"

I smiled. "Is that a problem?"

I pretended to remember something. "Oh right. You've been busy. Academy, relationships, getting Marked — you never had time to come see my mother while she was lying unconscious. Not once in five years."

He used to be treated by my parents like their own son.

He stood there. I picked up the painting he'd come for and set it back on the shelf.

"Sorry, I changed my mind. It's not for sale."

"My work goes to people who understand it. Not you."

Callum's voice went tight. "Hazel. After all this time, you're still doing this."

"Stop pretending. I know you need the money for your mother. I'll pay double."

"You're not doing well — I know that. But you have to be realistic. No one else is going to offer what I'm offering."

I laughed, not warmly. "You haven't changed either. You've always looked down on me and dressed it up as concern."

I realized it later — that Callum had never once placed me on equal ground with himself.

When the academy students made jokes about us, said Vivienne was the obvious match, said I didn't belong — I hadn't cared what they thought.

But one afternoon I had gone to Callum's place and heard him talking with Vivienne inside.

"The others don't know what they're saying. Hazel's good."

I had been waiting to hear what came next.

"She'd be better if she were more like you," Callum said.

"She really isn't up to your level. Not smart enough. Not beautiful enough."

So he'd been thinking the same thing all along.

Shame flooded through me.

I started blaming myself. Why wasn't I smarter. Why wasn't I better.

But then I remembered: this is who I am. I never did anything to deserve what happened to me.

A long silence passed. Then Callum's voice broke through.

"I'm sorry, Hazel."

In the end, I didn't sell him the painting.

Some things — like an umbrella that shows up after the rain has already soaked you through — arrive too late to matter.

His apology was the same. At eighteen, I had needed it desperately. At twenty-three, it meant nothing.

When he left, he placed a Marking invitation on the table. He said he hoped I'd come.

I tore it up and dropped it in the bin.

After the academy, I had worked as a full-time artist. Sometimes I took on other commissions.

When a contact asked if I wanted to take on a venue decoration project for a Bonding ceremony, I looked at the fee and said yes.

Five years after everything, I came face to face with Vivienne again.

I arrived at the venue. The client was Vivienne.

She looked me over and didn't bother pretending.

"Hazel. All these years and you really haven't gotten any further, have you."

"You were at least some kind of competition back then. I honestly expected you'd manage better than this."

I walked toward her.

Then I slapped her. Hard.

Once wasn't enough. I kept going until her face was red.

"You're insane!" she shouted.

"You don't know why I ended up like this?" I said. "Isn't that on you?"

I'd gone a little insane. I had. On the day my mother stopped waking up.

I spotted the projector in the venue. I connected my phone and put Vivienne's comment on the screen — the one where she admitted she'd broken us up deliberately, where she admitted it was calculated, where she admitted she'd tampered with my academy applications.

The people in the room — Vivienne's friends — stared at the screen.

I picked up the microphone.

"These past years have been hard. No academy. My mother is still in a coma."

"If you don't want to end up like me, stay away from people like her. Don't let yourself be used."

"Otherwise you'll be the one who gets framed, gets replaced, and ends up blamed for your own downfall."

The room went loud. People started moving away from Vivienne.

Then Callum arrived.

He didn't go to Vivienne, who was on the floor.

He walked straight to me.

"Hazel. What you said back then — it was all true."