Chapter 3

Lydia froze, then frantically wiped her wet face.

She was wearing makeup, and it had smeared as soon as she rubbed at it.

"Cough, cough... What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?!"

"Oh my God," I mimicked her. "False lashes, foundation, lipstick, and an outfit that barely covers anything. What are you here for, to flirt for tips? Are you the karaoke bar's little princess?"

Charles frowned, stepped between us, and snatched the glass out of my hand.

"Tanya. Apologize."

He looked down at me, his expression cold and disapproving.

My eyes reddened as I glared at him.

"Didn't you hear what she said to me? She made fun of me first!"

"Two wrongs don't make a right. You've already insulted her back. Now you need to apologize for throwing a drink in her face."

"You need to own up when you do something wrong. Be reasonable. Stop acting like a child."

He said it as if it were obvious. "Just apologize. Lydia won't hold it against you."

I let out a cold laugh. "Go to hell."

Charles's eyes widened.

"Tanya, you've really gone too far this time. You go off to college and suddenly you think you can talk like that? Apologize. Now."

I laughed bitterly, turned, and walked out.

On the third day of our cold war, Charles came looking for me. He brought my favorite jasmine-and-guava milk pudding drink.

There was pink whipped cream on top and one of the little cherry-blossom decorations I loved.

He stood below my dorm window and called up to me, his voice softer than usual.

"Tanya, come downstairs. Let me make it up to you. I was wrong the other day."

I looked down from the dorm balcony. The wind stung my eyes.

I went down and took the drink. I had a sip, and sweetness spread across my tongue, but the knot in my chest remained.

"Do you think I'm spoiled, petty, and overdramatic? Do you think I made a big deal out of nothing that day?"

He was quiet for a long time before answering.

"Lydia's just blunt. She doesn't mean any harm. Don't take everything she says so seriously. You're always picking at things, and that's why you don't have many friends."

The mouthful of pudding seemed to lodge in my throat. I couldn't swallow it or spit it out.

No matter how much she hurt me, in Charles's eyes, I was always the petty one—the one who couldn't get along with anyone.

After that, things between us stayed distant and awkward.

When we graduated from college, both families started pushing us to get married. We were old enough, they said, and it was time to have the wedding.

Charles didn't object, so the date was set for my twenty-second birthday.

On the wedding day, Lydia put on my wedding dress and stood in the bridal suite.

She said she just wanted to see how she looked in one.

I was so angry I almost laughed.

She glanced at my red reception dress and smirked.

"Tanya, red doesn't really suit you. It makes your skin look even darker."

Then she added, "And that shade is way too loud. You look like some tacky bride at a country wedding. Ha-ha."

I swallowed my anger and said, "Take it off. If you want to try on a wedding dress, rent one yourself. This one is mine."

Instead, she spun in front of the mirror.

"Oh, come on. You've already worn it today. What's the big deal if I borrow it for a minute? Charles said it was fine. Why are you so stingy?"

I'd had enough. I reached for the dress.

"It's my wedding dress. Give it back!"

We struggled over it. Somehow, Lydia caught her foot on something and stumbled, landing hard on the floor. Most of her hair came loose.

Charles had just arrived and saw the whole thing.

Then, without hesitation, he slapped me.