02
Back at home, I packed my stuff with an unusual tranquility.
My father, Reuben Faulkner, had been the family driver for Dustin’s family. When I was in high school, he accompanied Dustin’s father, Fitzgerald Lawson, on a business trip but was ambushed by robbers on the way. My father died protecting Fitzgerald, stabbed multiple times.
Though Fitzgerald survived, he was gravely wounded and passed away shortly after.
Dustin’s mother, Johanna Lawson, had always felt guilty for me, treating me like her own daughter. When she found out about my feelings for Dustin, she did everything she could to match us.
When my only family member left me, my classmates mocked me, saying I was a jinx, and claimed that my parents had died because I was a bad kid.
When Dustin found out, despite always being cold toward me, he physically confronted those who taunted me, protecting me with his fists.
“Who says she’s an orphan? From now on, my house is her home.”
After that, I became Dustin’s shadow, one he couldn’t shake off.
Maybe, from the very start, our relationship had never been balanced, and no matter how hard I tried, it was always doomed to fail.
Dustin protected me, but he never loved me.
There were countless women around him, and I’d ruined countless of his dates. But he never blamed me. If one woman didn’t work out, he’d simply move on to the next.
I acted like a territorial beast, stubbornly guarding his side, chasing off any woman who posed a threat.
But this time, when I saw him casually place the wedding ring on someone else’s finger, I was exhausted.
I decided to let go.
We had lived together for three years, and the house was filled with traces of our life. Yet my luggage was so minimal.
As the moment of departure finally arrived, the lingering pain in my chest intensified even more.
I hadn’t figured out how to bid farewell to Johanna. This wedding, which was never going to take place, might disappoint her even more than it did me. Looking back, I was relieved Dustin had never agreed to register our marriage. Otherwise, I could never have walked away so easily.
The sudden ring of the doorbell snapped me out of my thoughts.1
When I opened the door, Dustin stumbled into my arms, reeking of alcohol. I nearly lost my balance, and we both fell to the ground.
A sharp pain shot through my spine, and even my stomach felt uneasy.
He mumbled, “I’m going home… or Lyanna will get mad.”
Renata, seemingly relieved, spoke in a mocking tone.
“Alright, Mr. Lawson, you’re home now.”
‘Ms. Faulkner, Mr. Lawson is drunk. I’ve brought him back. I’ll be leaving now.”
Her face was tight with displeasure, her eyes lingering on Dustin as though she didn’t want to leave,
When Dustin heard she was leaving, he struggled to rise and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Don’t leave. You’re not going anywhere.”
Renata’s face lit up with a smile. She feigned pushing him away, chiding, “Mr. Lawson, your fiancée is still here. What’s the point of me staying?”
“Her? Let her watch.”
Dustin clung to Renata, his hand moving lower on her back. It looked like things were about to turn into something more. I grabbed a glass of water from the table and splashed it straight in his face.
The cold water froze his expression for a moment, and the droplets splashed onto Renata, leaving her stunned.
‘Get out.”
My voice was cold and commanding, and Renata, no longer daring to play any more games, fled in a panic.
Dustin stunned that I’d thrown water in his face, stumbled back onto the couch, falling into a deep, drunken sleep.
I looked at him, sprawled on the couch, and memories flooded my mind.
I’d once cared for him when he was drunk, cleaning him up, changing him into pajamas, and feeding him soup.
