Chapter 2
“You drugged me on purpose. Wanted me to stay here, lose my shot at the city, just so I’d linger with you a little longer. Didn’t you?”
“Harley. I thought you were just reckless. But this? Drug? You knew how much that chance meant to me!”
Joaquin’s chest heaved, veins bulging.
Harley flinched. “He thinks I’d sabotage my own future?”
“It wasn’t me, Joaquin. I’ve told you–l’d never-”
At the word “uncle,” Joaquin’s brow twitched.
He hadn’t heard her call him that in ages.
Today’s Harley felt off. But he forced himself to stay calm.
“I know your game. You should focus on studying. Stop scheming.”
“Harley, I’ll always be your uncle. Nothing more.”
Joaquin’s expression was serious, with a hint of warning.
Harley’s heart skipped.
Last life, she heard those words too many times.
She thought her sacrifice could rewrite their story.
Now she knew better.
Fools rush into flames. They never survive.
”
Joaquin braced for her usual defiance. Instead, she smiled–a cold, distant thing.
“Rest easy. I’ll behave.”
Joaquin froze. Then, a shrill voice cut through.
Myra sauntered in, suitcase in hand, pouting. “Joaquin, my bags are heavy! Hurry up!”
Joaquin snapped back, grabbing Myra’s suitcase. His eyes never left Harley.
“By the way. Myra’s moving in. Wedding plans start next spring.”
“We’ll be family soon. Get used to it now–it’ll make the transition easier,”
he said.
Harley nodded, expressionless.
Myra, fresh from a tryst, dramatically clutched her waist and feigned exhaustion.
She wandered the room, then pointed to Harley’s bedroom.
“Joaquin, can I take this room? The light’s perfect. And studying together will be so convenient.”
Joaquin hesitated, then smoothed Myra’s hair.
“Of course. Harley will clear her things for you.”
Harley stiffened.
Joaquin knew this room held memories of her parents, yet he let Myra’s whim override it..
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Myra feigned guilt.
“Is that okay? Harley’s probably attached-”
As Harley moved to leave, Joaquin blocked her path.
He wrapped Myra in his arms, a possessive gesture, and eyed Harley with scrutiny.
“What’s the problem? You’re my future wife. She should yield.”
Harley forced a bitter smile.
“Joaquin’s right. I’ll pack up right now.”
She turned to tidy her things.
Myra glanced around, spotted a vase on the shelf, picked it up, then “accidentally” dropped it.
“Oops, sorry! Just wanted a closer look-”
The vase shattered.
Harley glanced at the mess, unflinching.
“No worries. It was ready for the trash anyway.”
Joaquin’s face darkened. He remembered how Harley treasured that vase- the first gift he’d given her.
She’d once nearly hurt herself protecting it.
Now she acted like it meant nothing.
“Packaged up. Bring your things in,” Harley said, lugging bags toward the
door.
Joaquin reached to help. but she sidestepped him.
“I’ve got it. No need for you to trouble yourself,” she said, voice tight.
Joaquin’s eyes darkened as he watched her leave. He stood rooted until Myra called out.
From that day on, as if to crush any hope in Harley, Joaquin indulged Myra shamelessly.
Myra loved flowers? He picked her the rarest blooms each dawn.
She fell ill? He stayed by her side, exhaustingly attentive.
Even without asking, seasonal fabrics and dresses appeared in her room like magic.
Neighbors praised Myra’s “luck” in finding such a devoted man.
Harley, meanwhile, became the picture of calm.
She worked dawn to dusk at the factory, saving every penny, carefully avoiding any encounter with Joaquin or Myra.
One morning, Joaquin cornered her.
“You’ve been acting strange. What’s your new trick?“”
Harley hesitated, grasping for an excuse.
She made up an excuse, but Joaquin clearly didn’t buy it.
He stepped closer, backing her against the wall. “I’m just… keeping my distance.” she said, though it tasted like ash.
Like he’d heard the most absurd joke, Joaquin let out a humorless snort.
“Keeping distance? Since when do you know boundaries?”
10 29
“Believe what you want. I’m busy,” she lied, heart aching.
She truly let go of him–yet he refused to believe it.
“Let him think what he wants. In a month, I’ll be gone,” she thought.
After her shift, rain poured as Harley stepped out.
No umbrella. She ducked under a shop awning, watching the downpour
Worsen.
A familiar jeep pulled up as she prepared to borrow one from the shop.
Myra rolled down the window.
“Harley? Fancy meeting you here.”
She turned to Joaquin, feigning concern. “Joaquin, why not give her a ride? She’s drenched.”
Before Harley could reply, Joaquin’s voice cut through.
“A little rain never hurt anyone. And you’re meeting friends–no room anyway.”
Myra’s eyes gleamed with challenge.
“Suit yourself,” she said, as the jeep sped off, splashing Harley with muddy water.
She held her coat over her head and ran to the shop.
His coldness was old news–she’d weathered worse in her last life.
Back home, Harley changed into dry clothes, feeling a feverish warmth on her forehead.
She took some medicine and drifted into an uneasy sleep.
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Half–asleep, she felt something cold near her face. Instinctively, she reached for it–until she heard Joaquin’s voice.
“Harley, let go of my arm.”
Her eyes flew open. She was clutching him.
