Even at home, as a sick patient, she still needed to clean the house and make food for the family.
Her thin fingers scrubbed the counters, her vision already hazy, breath shallow. No one cared. No one asked her to rest. They expected it.
She understood Rachael wasn't her mother — but what about Silas? He was supposed to be her father, her mother's lover. Yet he never acted as such.
She once did a DNA test on him without his knowledge. The results confirmed: Silas was her biological father. Then why did he hate her so much if he loved her mother so deeply, as he always claimed?
She had once confronted him, her voice trembling but steady:
"If you love my mother as you claim, why am I only 2 years older than Maple?"
He had no reply.
He just hit her, as he always wished.
Her cheek burned from the slap, but her heart burned more with unanswered questions.
Was it that he loved her mother, but his d*ck couldn't wait so long to claim others as theirs?
The thought haunted her every time she looked at him.
Once, she'd even considered arresting him. But if she did that, she'd have no family left at all.
So she thought — maybe if she did more to make them happy, they'd come to like her.
But no. The more she earned, the more they maltreated her.
She worked so much but owned nothing.
Still — somehow — she never hated them. Not her father. Not her stepmother. Not even Maple.
She still liked them. They were her family.
When, though — when would she have a family that made her happy too?
No matter what Maple did, right or wrong, she was celebrated. Even when she was at the bottom of the class.
She remembered her father saying:
"As long as she's happy, other things don't matter."
They even used Willow's hard-earned money to celebrate Maple's failure.
But when she was at the top of the class?
Did anyone care to look at her report card?
No.
She remembered the happiness on the faces of the other top students when they received their report cards.
But for her — when no one checked, what reason was there to be happy?
It reached a point where sadness and happiness both became meaningless.
She grew numb to both.
She existed. She no longer lived.
When was the last time she cried? She was 15.
After that, she stopped feeling anything.
Happiness, sadness — any feeling. She stopped having them.
She remembered one time — she had a fight with Maple again when she was 19 and Maple was 17.
But this time, for no strong reason.
Just the fact that Maple was happy and Willow wasn't — that felt so wrong.
The fact that they spent her money, but she wasn't allowed to spend it — that made her mad.
She came back from work to see Maple celebrating her friend's birthday with her hard-earned money.
The house was scattered — kitchen and dining used however they pleased.
When she came in and saw them, she said nothing.
She went straight to her room.
Her room — it was more like a maid's than the first daughter's.
Maple's room was beautiful, well-decorated.
She stayed there for hours sleeping. Then, needing to go to work, she came out.
Her parents weren't around; they had traveled.
She stepped out to see the dining room and kitchen still in chaos.
"Maple!" Willow called.
No reply.
So she went to Maple's room and walked in without permission.
"Can you knock before coming in?" Maple yawned, no sign of her friends. They had probably left.
"Why didn't you clean the house after your party?" Willow asked, ignoring her question.
"Because I'm tired. And you're there to clean it up," Maple said and went back to sleep.
"You really want me to clean it up?" Willow asked.
"Isn't that your work?" Maple replied.
Willow smiled coldly. Her eyes narrowed. Her voice dropped:
"Your parents must be really brave, leaving you with me — not thinking I might kill you before they arrive."
Maple snorted sarcastically:
"Do you dare lay a hand on me…"
Willow's smile widened, dramatic — and then she gave her a hot slap.
Without pause, she grabbed Maple's long hair, dragging her out of the room to the dining room.
"Will you clean it up or not?" Willow asked, voice sharp.
"No, I won't!" Maple said through pain, already thinking that when her parents returned, Willow would be dead.
Willow slapped her again — left, right, again, again — until she lost count.
Bruised and trembling, Maple had no choice but to clean.
Willow watched Maple's bruised face, her eyes cold.
She felt a sense of satisfaction.
—
The next day, their parents arrived.
Maple had probably called them back.
Willow wasn't home; she was at work.
When she returned from work, she was welcomed — with a slap from Silas.
She was used to it. She had expected it.
"You're back?" Willow asked despite the slap. Her dry smile didn't reach her eyes.
"How was your outing?" she asked.
"You really have guts, Willow. A lot of it. See the way you ruined my daughter's face," Rachael said, pointing at Maple's bruised face.
"And you still have the face to welcome us."
Her voice was thick with anger, edged with sadness.
"She was wrong. And since you weren't around, I decided to correct her on your behalf," Willow replied, looking straight into Rachael's eyes.
"That's a lie! I did nothing wrong to you, absolutely nothing! You just felt like hitting my face!" Maple shouted, clinging to Rachael.
"You decided to hurt my daughter this way? You should be handed over to the police and rot in jail for this criminal act," Silas said.
"Does that mean you and I will rot in jail?" Willow asked calmly.
"Willow, have you been possessed?" Rachael asked — stunned. Willow had never talked back before.
"No problem. I will handle you myself," Silas said with a cruel smile.
"No need for the police."
"Maple," Silas called, handing her a belt.
"Hit her. Take your revenge."
Maple collected the belt, stepped in front of Willow, and raised her hand to strike.
"If she should hit me — or if anyone in this house dares to hit me — I won't just call the police. I will stop working. Let's see how you pay your loan to the loan shark and creditors back," Willow threatened, voice steady, eyes unblinking.
"Are you threatening me?" Silas asked, veins popping in his neck.
"Actually, I'm telling you what I will do," Willow replied calmly.
"Then I will give you off to the loan shark and my creditor. You look quite beautiful enough to quench their thirst," Silas threatened coldly.
"Dare me," Willow said, eyes blazing, staring directly into his.
She turned and walked away to her room, leaving Maple frozen, belt still raised, and Rachael stunned.
Silas knew — he wouldn't dare.
Who would earn money for the family? Maple? She couldn't even earn a dime — and if she did, it would be for herself.
"Dad," Maple called tearfully.
Was she never going to get her revenge?
"She must be possessed," Rachael said.
Willow reached her room, locked the door quickly, and breathed deeply — in and out.
She dropped her bag on the bed, closed her eyes, then opened them.
She had walked away from it.
She had practiced everything she said on her way home from work.
She knew hitting the family princess would land her in trouble — but now, she was safe.
If only she had known — she would have said this a long time ago and saved herself so much trouble.
—
A sharp pain in her head — and a ringtone — pulled her from her thoughts.
She held her head with one hand, picked up her phone with the other.
"Hello," she said faintly.
"Willow, I'm outside," Alder's voice rang out through the phone.
"Give the security the phone," Willow said softly.
"Let him in," she told the security, then hung up the call.
She struggled to find her medication.
Her vision blurred, and she couldn't see clearly.
Fortunately, she found the bottle on the kitchen cabinet and used it.
The doorbell rang. She struggled toward the door, checked the ring bell — but the figure was blurry.
Even if it was someone else — she was dying anyway.
There was nothing wrong in making it faster.
She opened the door. The person came in.
"Willow," Alder called out.
She was still wearing her clothes from the afternoon.
She smiled faintly hearing Alder's voice.
"Alder," she called softly.
But she couldn't see him.
She had gone temporarily blind again — or maybe permanently this time.
"Come, sit," she said, moving instinctively toward the couch.
As long as she didn't give herself away — he wouldn't know, right?
Or so she thought.
But Alder suddenly hugged her from behind and said:
"Willow, I thought about it. It doesn't matter if we get married. What truly matters is the time we spent together, the love we shared."
He continued:
"It doesn't matter if you love me. My love is enough for both of us. I want to love you…" He paused, then went on:
"I figured it out. I can't live without you. Every day without you feels like I'm living in hell. Let's go on this journey together. Let's forget about the past or future. Let's just focus on the present — just us… please, Willow."
The last part came out as a whisper — though he truly wanted a future with her, he was ready to accept anything, as long as she was in his life.
Willow closed her eyes and opened them again, as if that would help her see.
But she still couldn't.
Maybe the saying was true: beautiful things couldn't always be seen with the eyes.
"Willow, say something," Alder urged.
"Alder, I'm yours. From the beginning of time till now, I've always been yours. Even when we weren't together. I love you — just that I don't deserve you, Alder. All I can bring to you is pain," Willow replied.
Her voice was steady, but her expression was of deep, deep pain.
Alder turned her to face him.
"Willow, I don't mind. The pain, the happiness — everything. I'm ready to feel it all. Just be mine, please."
Just this once, Willow wished she could live longer than a month.
Maybe — maybe she wanted to have his kids.
Maybe she wanted to love him till forever.
But it wasn't possible.
Did she really deserve this fate?
For 28 years of her life, she'd had only 3 or 4 years of happiness. And now she was dying?
Why?
On impulse, she raised her hand to touch his face.
Her behavior made Alder suspicious — something was wrong.
He caught her hand gently and pressed it to his face.
"Alder, all I can say is… I'm sorry. I'm sorry for the way I treated you before. I'm sorry for everything. Please forgive me."
Maybe she was too heartless — cursed with this fate.
"I've made my decision, Willow. I'm not leaving you this time," Alder said and left her side to go sit on the couch, his gaze never leaving her.
No matter what she said today — he was going to stay. Even if she refused him.
Willow couldn't take it anymore. The pain had been building since he came in — she'd tried to mask it, but it was getting out of hand.
Maybe the medicine had stopped working.
Or maybe her sickness had grown stronger than the medicine.
Her body trembled.
She bent down, folding herself tightly, her head pressed against her knees — the same position she had taken that day when she had kidnapped Alder, when the police caught them.
Her breath became ragged. Sweat formed on her brow.
Her heart was pounding so loud it echoed in her ears.
"Willow, what's wrong?" Alder asked, rushing toward her.
He reached her and gently held her shoulders, worry all over his face.
Willow looked up at him, her lips parted — her vision was swimming now. Everything was going dark.
And with a voice so faint it was almost a whisper, she said just one word:
"Alder."
Her body went limp in his arms.