Chapter 9
But whether Esther had depression or not no longer mattered.
Peter followed silently behind me, not a word escaping his lips.
I remembered when I first returned. I was timid, afraid of the dark, and Peter would always stand guard with a little sword by my bedroom door, waiting until I fell asleep before he went to bed himself.
He once told me he would protect me forever.
Later, he became part of the plan to humiliate me.
“Sara, I’m so sorry…” Peter said.
“I just thought Esther’s depression needed more attention and care than you did.
“I never imagined it would hurt you so much.”
He hung his head, looking like a child caught in the act.
But I couldn’t forget how, time and again, he’d played with my emotions just to see Esther smile.
On Esther’s birthday, they deliberately lit a balloon filled with flammable gas near me, which caused an explosion. My long hair, which I’d cared for over ten years, was burned beyond recognition, leaving me with a patchy, damaged mess. I cried as I cut it all off, leaving myself with a short,
uneven bob.
10:48 PM
<
On Esther’s birthday, they deliberately lit a balloon filled with flammable gas near me, which caused an explosion. My long hair, which I’d cared for over ten years, was burned beyond recognition, leaving me with a patchy, damaged mess. I cried as I cut it all off, leaving myself with a short,
uneven bob.
Peter regretted it deeply, saying, “If I’d known how dangerous it was, I never would’ve done it. What if we’d hurt Esther?”
I asked through my tears, “Then what am I to you?”
I remember Peter’s words clearly. “I only have one sister. Making Esther happy is your honor.”
Tyler apologized, too.
He dropped his usual arrogance and sincerely said, “I’m sorry.”
The three of them promised to protect me for life, vowing no one would hurt me again.
But in the end, they were the ones who caused me the most pain.
When you were happy, you wouldn’t dwell on the bad memories. But that didn’t mean I would forgive them.
I never accepted their apologies.
After the truth about Esther’s lies came to light, she seemed to truly fall into depression. She became withdrawn and gloomy every day, but after so many lies, no one believed her anymore.
She grabbed me, demanding, “Are you happy now? They’re all back to caring about you. Do you know how much effort I put into making them see me?
“Why should it be you?”
Her face was pale and bloodless, as if she hadn’t slept properly in days.
The day I found out I was pregnant, Jerome was overjoyed, spinning me around in circles. I couldn’t help but share my happiness with all my friends on social media.
Half an hour later, Peter called.
He told me, “Arnold’s been in a car accident.”
I found out that Arnold had learned about my pregnancy, drunk himself into a stupor, and crashed his car while driving on the highway.
“He’s in critical condition and keeps calling your name. Please, go see him.”
Peter pleaded with me.
But I didn’t care.
That was his own doing, and it had nothing to do with me.
Later, Arnold’s accident left him paralyzed from the waist down. He might never walk again.
While Jerome was with me at a routine checkup, we saw Arnold.
He looked like a shell of himself, depressed, alcoholic, and in the middle of his rehab.
Tyler and Peter’s company was in financial trouble because Jerome’s company had pulled out.
They tried to reach out to me several times, but I kept them at the door.
As I looked at Jerome, standing beside me, his gentle face full of warmth, I tightened my grip on his hand, feeling certain that I was where I needed to be.
DA
