Chapter 2

I declined the call.

A second later, Mom texted.

[You graduate in one week. You said if you weren't married by then, you'd let me set you up.]

[Think it over. Then call me back.]

After I started college, Mom never got over the average school I'd ended up at.

She believed it happened because I hadn't followed her plan.

So, to stop me from ruining the rest of my life, she decided to arrange my marriage.

She'd brought it up a million times over the past four years.

And I'd said no every time.

But Joshua's parents didn't allow dating while he was in school.

So we hid everything from our families.

Our relationship.

Our apartment.

Of course, I never dared tell Mom I already had a boyfriend.

Or that we'd promised to get married after graduation.

I'd been so sure I would marry Joshua.

So when Mom said, "If you're still not married after graduation, you'll do what I say," I'd agreed like it was nothing.

Gwen had already slipped into the kitchen and taken her place beside Joshua.

She eyed the shrimp, made a face, and ducked behind him. "Those things are creepy."

Joshua laughed. "And yet you love eating them. I already borrowed against next month's allowance to buy these, so you'd better finish them."

Only then did he seem to remember I was there.

He glanced up and smiled. "Didn't you say you wanted shrimp the other day? This works for you too."

That's what he said.

But when we sat down to eat, he peeled shrimp one after another and dropped them onto Gwen's plate.

"Her hands are too important for painting," he explained. "She can't peel them without making a mess. It's easier if I do it."

He peeled a few for me too.

The smallest ones.

That night, Joshua gave his room to Gwen.

And squeezed into mine.

Even though we'd been living together, we'd rented a two-bedroom apartment.

Joshua was big on privacy.

He always said that no matter how close two people were, they still needed their own space.

His room was filled with paintings that meant a lot to him.

I'd been strictly off-limits for four years.

I hadn't stepped inside once.

Yet a classmate staying for one night was sleeping there.

Lying beside me, he wrapped an arm around my waist.

"When are we going to tell our families about us?" I asked.

"Later."

He pulled me closer and buried his face in my neck.

"We've got a few more days until graduation. We've already waited four years. What's a little longer?"

I thought about the note I'd seen that morning.

And realized he was dodging the question.

My throat tightened.

In the end, I couldn't say a word.

The next morning, I woke to something clattering in the kitchen.

Joshua was still asleep.

I stepped out and found Gwen pacing around in there.

She was wearing the pajama set that matched mine.

When she saw me, she froze.

"You two are so cute, buying matching pajamas. I didn't bring clothes, and I couldn't exactly sleep naked. You're way smaller than me, so yours wouldn't fit. I just borrowed one of Joshua's sets. Don't be jealous."

She was right.

I was way smaller than her.

A car accident when I was little had left me weak.

No matter how well I ate after that, I never got strong.

I was barely five-three.

Gwen, though, had the kind of figure people noticed. And she was at least half a head taller than me.

As she talked, she filled a bowl with cream soup and handed it over.

"I didn't want to crash here for free, so I made breakfast. Try it."

Before I could answer, she shoved the bowl into my hands.

I reached out on instinct.

The bowl hit the floor and shattered.

Then came a sharp cry.

Joshua rushed out of the bedroom.

Straight to Gwen.

A few red spots dotted the back of her hand where the soup had splashed.

His face went tight with panic.

"How could you be so careless? Don't you know how important your hands are?"

He grabbed her wrist and headed for the door.

Before leaving, he threw one line back at me.

"I'm taking her to the hospital to get that burn treated."

He saw the few red marks on her hand.

But not the scalding soup covering mine.

As a med student, my hands were everything.

I walked to the sink, turned on the faucet, and shoved my hand under the cold water.

Pain ripped through me.

Like my skin was being stripped away.

But it cleared my head.

Completely.

Ignoring the burn, I called my mom.

"That guy you wanted me to marry...

"Set it up."