Listen to Train Wreck by James Arthur.

There was a long silence in the kitchen after the cups dropped. The shards of glass caught every eye and evoked different emotions—fear, anger, and shock. It was like the calm before the storm, but I wasn't scared, nor was I satisfied. They stared at the pieces like I'd just broken the rarest piece of art.

Tristan's eyes moved slowly from the cups until they landed on me. I smiled smugly at him. He looked like he wanted to say something but was holding back. The veins on his neck and wrist scared me as his jaw hardened in anger.

"Why don't you go out for some air? I will talk to her," his friend said, trying to soften his voice and shielding me from his intense gaze.

His friend was slightly taller than him. I wondered who was older.

Tristan gave me a murderous stare. He pulled away from his friend and walked out of the kitchen. I stared at his friend, who seemed relieved for some reason. I was kind of confused—not like anything today made sense. I stayed mute as his friend turned to look at me. His scrutinizing gaze didn't intimidate me one bit.

"I get that you're upset, Chloe. Anyone would feel that way, but all we ask for is a little time."

"Do you know how absurd you all sound? I can walk out of here and get a pregnancy test to prove to everyone he is lying. I only need him to tell my family the truth."

Technically, the plan was to come here and murder him.

"Why did he toy with my life like that? I wanna know! Am I not allowed to at least know why he picked me and ruined everything for me?"

"Soon, I promise," he said softly, giving me a warm smile.

"Ouch!" I winced at the sharp pain squeezing my feet.

"I'm fine." I held my hand up, stopping him as he moved to help me.

"Morris, where is my room?" I tried to hide the pain in my voice.

"You're seriously injured, Chloe. Let me take you to the hospital to have it checked, or it will get infected."

"No, I'm fine," I refused.

"I insist," he said, stepping closer. "I'm not about to let you die on my watch. Can I?" he asked, gesturing to my bloody feet.

I hesitated for a few seconds before nodding my head. He squatted close to my legs to have a look.

"That looks bad. I'm taking you to the hospital," he said, standing up.

"My parents cut me off. I can't afford it," I said a little harsher than I intended.

"I will take care of the bill," Tristan offered, walking into the kitchen.

He looked collected now, and it pissed me off that my actions were not getting to him.

"No, thank you," I said, trying to fight off the pain.

"You will get an infection if you don't get this checked," Tristan said.

"And you're losing a lot of blood," his friend added.

They both stared at me, waiting for a reply, while I just stood there, glaring at them.

"So, what are you gonna do if I refuse? Force me?" I questioned. "I don't care if I bleed to death. I'd rather not live to see another miserable day."

They exchanged a look, communicating through their eyes. Tristan approached me and took me in his arms before I could protest.

"Get a towel and meet me outside, Adrian," he said, looking over his shoulder at his friend.

"If I die, just know you will never have peace. I'm going to go all horror movie on you," I said.

"You're not dying," Tristan hissed.

"Scared you won't survive one day of being haunted?" I said, and he shook his head at me.

Morris opened the back door to the black Lamborghini parked outside, and Tristan gently placed me on the seat, like I would break if he put more pressure.

His friend Adrian rushed to the car with a blue towel in his hand. They whispered to each other for a while, looking back at me like I was a lost kid they'd just found stealing from them.

"I'm right here; you don't have to gossip about me," I said.

"Don't worry, Morris; I will drive," Adrian said, walking to the front seat.

Tristan sat beside me on the backseat with the towel. I folded my arms and sat back, ignoring his presence.

"Give me your leg," Tristan said.

"I'm not allowing you to touch me again."

"I need to wrap this around your feet to reduce the bleeding," he said, clearly aggravated.

I rolled my eyes, placing my foot on his lap.

I tried to pull my leg away at the contact.

"Easy. Stay still," he said, holding my leg back, his rough palm circling my knee in a firm grip.

"Would you like some music?" Adrian asked from behind the wheel.

"Yes, please," I said, turning my face away from my bloody foot.

My feet were numb from the pain by the time we pulled into the hospital. Three nurses brought a stretcher to carry me. Adrian and Tristan insisted on going with me into the hospital room, but the nurses refused.

An old doctor came to examine me. Even with his glasses, he kept squinting his eyes, and I was worried for myself. He tried to have a conversation as he ran some tests and asked a few questions about my last tetanus shot. I only flashed him a smile, pretending to be interested in what he was saying. He made me miss my dad.

I thought of what was happening at home right now. Do they miss me? Are they thinking about me? Am I really pregnant? How had the test turned out positive? I felt like I was living someone else's life.

I was pushed around in a wheelchair and brought to the doctor's office after they washed my legs and performed an X-ray.

"Good news: no infection, and the glass didn't touch your bones."

I smiled at the news.

"We're going to stitch it up and give you a prescription, but you have to take a wheelchair home with you."

"What?"

"You need the wheelchair for movement," the doctor explained, laughing at my reaction.

"Is it that bad? Will I be able to walk again?" I panicked.

"Relax, Chloe. It's only for a few days." He smiled.

"How many days are we talking about here?" I furrowed my eyebrows.

"A week, and you'll be back on your feet."

I exhaled in relief. "How do I bathe?"

"Um ... ask a relative for help."

Great! I was the only female in the house. I would figure something out.

I screamed during the stitching even though I'd been given something to numb the pain. I refused to see my feet, scared to see how it looked.

"Have a nice day, Chloe."

"Thank you."

I lay on the bed with different thoughts in my head. Adrian walked in with the wheelchair. He beamed softly, indenting his deep dimples. I gave him an annoyed look and allowed him to help me into the wheelchair.

I didn't see Tristan when we came out. We drove back to his place without him. Adrian tried conversing, but I ignored him. I was quiet the whole ride, tangled in my thoughts and wondering how the hell I'd ended up like this.

Adrian took me upstairs when we arrived. Morris trailed behind him with the wheelchair. Honestly, I preferred to be carried around than being pushed around in a wheelchair.

"Would you like anything?" he asked, gently placing me on the queen-size bed.

A time machine to go back and not attend the wedding or any wedding ever again, I wanted to say.

"To be left alone," I said, lying on the bed. I sighed as he closed the door.

Where did that asshole gone? What am I still doing here?

My plan at the hospital was to get a pregnancy test and mail the result to my family. I couldn't blame them for their decision. I wanted to show I wasn't who Ciara had painted me to be. I had grown from that girl from years ago. I still needed my family even if they weren't the best version of what one would call a family.

I didn't know what to do anymore. I was exhausted, and my head was hurting so bad. I wished Vina were here to give me a hug and hype me up for trashing Tristan's place.

I wiped the tears rolling down my cheeks and stared at my room; it looked like a luxurious hotel suite. The smell of lavender in the air was comforting. The bed was wide, and the tall glass wall had a picturesque view from where I lay. There was a blue velvet couch at the end of the room and a walk-in closet next to the bathroom. A dressing table stood across the room with a tall mirror resting on the wall. A small desk was next to the nightstand. The walls were bare, except the large screen TV mounted on the wall opposite the bed.

I couldn't stay here, but again, I had nowhere to go, and my broke ass wouldn't be able to accommodate me for one night in a hotel. I wasn't prepared to live on my own, to handle the bills and adult responsibilities. This was not how I'd planned to leave home. I still had a lot to learn.

I buried my face in the pillow and cried. I screamed into the puffy pillow, punching it like it could ease my pain. I cried deeply, to the point that I started gasping for air. I heard a knock on the door, but I ignored it. I kept sobbing until I went to sleep.

The loud knock from the background woke me up with a frown. I was ready to yell at Ciara to get lost when I took in my surroundings, and everything came flashing back, like a movie. I asked the person knocking to come in. Tristan walked in with a small gift bag. I groaned and rolled my eyes.

"What do you want?" I questioned, already irritated by his presence.

"Did you sleep well?"

"I did until you ruined it," I said.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, gesturing to my feet.

"Like you care." I sighed while sitting up.

"You're my responsibility now."

I scoffed at his statement.

"Sorry I broke your phone. I got you a new one." He pointed to the nightstand.

I picked up the gift bag from the corner. It had my old SIM card too. I brought out the new phone and examined it.

"Thank you," I said, feigning excitement.

I threw the new phone across the room, and I studied his expression. He sighed softly, mumbling something before looking up to meet my angry eyes. I stared at him, wishing I could read his mind. I badly wanted to understand the situation.

"You don't like it?"

"A phone is the least of my problems right now, Tristan."

"I know," he said, taking a seat on the bed. "I guess you can't really judge a book by its cover. This was not what I was expecting when I approached you."

"Took you twenty-eight years of your life to learn that?" I sneered.

He was silent as he stared at my bandaged feet like it was a unique design he was seeing for the first time.

"I'm really sorry. I know my apologies are useless, but I want you to know you will have your family back soon."

"You know there were many women in that church who would've happily played your dumb game," I pointed out, feeling infuriated again.

He smiled, and I painstakingly tried not to hit his face with my wounded foot.

"Why?" I asked for the millionth time. I needed answers.

"I couldn't do it, and she didn't want me to."

I was still clueless at his answer.

"Who?" I asked, and he said nothing. "What are you up to, Tristan?"

He stayed silent, not giving me anything.

"You know, I can just rush to the hospital, take a legit pregnancy test, and get your ass to court. I will demand your whole wealth if I get the chance."

Who was I kidding? I didn't even have the money for a lawyer.

"If you want money, I will give it to you, but I really need this to work."

"What to work?" I pressed.

He went mute and kept his eyes on my bandaged feet.

"You just destroyed my life. The least you can do right now is tell me why I'm involved in this shit."

"I will. I need some time."

"How much time are we talking about here?"

"A month."

"A what?" I gasped. "You want me to stay away from my family for a month? What if Grey finds another girl?"

"Then, he never loved you," he said coolly.

"No, I can't wait for a month. You want me to put my life on hold for you? I'm trying to keep my sanity, so you won't end up dead."

"Three weeks then."

"No."

He looked away from my right foot, frustration stretching his facial muscles.

"I have a life to live. You've enjoyed your twenties; let me enjoy mine."

He breathed deeply, staring at me. "Two weeks."

Two weeks for me to figure out my life. I could stay here. At least I had a roof over my head and a butler to feed me. I would leave once he told the truth and get a job and an affordable apartment to support myself. I could move into a dorm room on campus, but I didn't want a roommate.

"Two weeks? I can work with that."

"But within these two weeks, you have to promise not to destroy anything in this house."

"Sorry, I'm not good at keeping promises."

"Chloe," he sighed.

"I will try, but you'll end up disappointed."

"Does it hurt?" he asked, running the tips of his fingers over my bandaged feet.

"What do you think?" I kicked his hand away.

"I brought your prescription."

"How thoughtful of you," I said.

"I'm sorry it had to be you and sorry it turned out this way." He gave me a bottle of water and the small pills.

"What were you expecting to happen? For a baby bump to suddenly appear and for me to proclaim my love for you?" I mumbled and took a sip.

He stood up, heading for the door. He picked up the phone I had thrown away on his way out.

"Don't worry; I will give it to charity," I said quickly.

He shook his head before throwing the new phone on the bed.

"Tristan," I called, sitting upright.

"Yeah?"

"Two weeks. If you don't fix this after two weeks, I will bring this beautiful house of yours down, and I will haunt you day and night while you rot in jail," I threatened.

"Okay," he said, walking out of the room.

"Jerk," I mumbled, looking at my surroundings properly.

The view outside the ground-to-ceiling glass was spectacular. The pool glowed in the dark under the moon, and there was a beautiful garden a few feet from the pool. If only I could move. At least not everything was built in glass. There was a shiny wooden block joining some parts of the building for aesthetics, I assumed.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Morris walked in with his fingers folded together, and as usual, his white gloves were still on.

"Good evening, Miss Simpson. How are you feeling?"

I still couldn't place his accent.

"Please call me Chloe."

"I'm sorry, I can't, Miss Simpson."

"Whatever. Do you need something?" I groaned in frustration.

"Mr. Sanchester sent me to get you for dinner."

"I'm not hungry."

My stomach decided to betray me by grumbling. I forced a smile and nodded. He moved closer to carry me.

"No, I'm good."

There was no way I was allowing the old guy to carry me. I was worried about his age and health. He looked fragile, and I was not going to take the risk.

"Tell Tristan I want him to carry me to the dining room, not you."

"I assure you, I won't drop you."

"Thank you, but no."

"I insist, miss."

"No."

After giving me a long stare, he gave up and left.

It took a few minutes before Tristan appeared. He scowled and moved to the bed. I opened my arms with a wide smile, finding joy in tormenting him. He scooped me up bridal-style and left the room.

"How old are you again?" he asked as we descended the stairs.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, scared he might drop me.

"Six," I replied, and he grunted.

He looked down at my face, and I smirked at him. He shook his head and mumbled something under his breath. I stared at his bobbing Adam's apple, and then my eyes trailed to his face. He didn't deserve such beauty.

"Stop with the look."

"What look?" I asked, still staring.

"You're creeping me out," he said as I moved my face closer.

"Can I feel your stubble? I have never touched stubble."

"No," he said with his nose wrinkled in disgust, but I did it anyway to piss him off. He groaned in annoyance as I ran my palm up and down his rough stubble.

"So, this is what it feels like?" I whispered.

"You've had your fill." He moved his face away from my touch.

"You're still here?" I asked his annoying friend, who was waiting at the dining table.

Thank God Tristan put me down gently. I'd felt like he might let go.

"Ouch. I thought you'd be happy to see me." Adrian faked a pained face.

I rolled my eyes, staring at the food in front of me.

"Are we celebrating the wreckage you caused in my life?" I eyed the expensive wine more than the mouthwatering food.

Adrian chuckled, and I noticed a dimple. Tristan arrived with three wineglasses.

"Pass me a napkin," Tristan requested.

"Say please," I said, and he sighed.

"Adrian, would you mind passing me a napkin?" he asked his friend.

"Sure, man. Here you go." He gave it to him while I scoffed and rolled my eyes.

I didn't know I was starving until I tasted the diced steak with mushrooms.

"Morris, this is delicious," I said, smiling at him.

He was standing two feet away, like he was waiting to receive orders.

"I cooked it myself. Not him," Tristan said, sounding annoyed.

"Really?" I stared at the food and then at him. I gagged.

"I was about to tell him the salt is too much and the steak is overcooked," I said, reaching for my glass of wine.

Adrian tried to suppress his laughter.

Tristan was about to say something, but his ringtone stopped him. His facial muscles tightened as he looked at me, and his lips formed a thin line. He turned away from me, picking up the phone.

"It's my mom," he said to Adrian, leaving the dining room to answer the call.

"How bad is the wound on a scale of one to five?"

"Hundred."

"Do you know those paintings you destroyed could have made you the richest person in the world if all the money was summed up?"

"Who cares?" I reached for the wine and refilled my glass.

"And those cups you broke were—"

"I don't wanna hear it. Are you trying to make me feel like the bad guy here?"

"Sorry," he mumbled with an apologetic smile.

Tristan returned, and we ate in silence. Morris cleared the dining room when we were done. I couldn't believe I was dining with the person who had made me homeless, but I guessed it was better than starving and sleeping on the street.

"Adrian will take you to your room," Tristan said, standing up. He seemed to be in a sour mood since he'd returned to the dining area.

"No, I want you to carry me, not him," I voiced.

Adrian's lips curved upward in amusement as he sipped the remaining wine.

"Do you want to crawl to your room or let him take you?"

"None of the above. You said it yourself; I'm your responsibility," I retorted.

"Fine."

I didn't like the sound of that. He moved fast to where I was and threw me over his shoulder like I was a piece of cloth.

"This position is uncomfortable," I groaned, his shoulder bones pressing into my stomach. "Tristan, put me down!"

The pain increased as he climbed the stairs. His lean ass was staring at my face. I thought of pinching it but stopped myself.

"You're hurting me. I'm going to throw up if you don't stop."

He said nothing.

"You're choking the baby," I said, but the only reaction I got from him was a small growl.

"I will fart on your face if you don't stop." I wished I hadn't said that. I was glad he didn't say anything.

I endured the pain and tried to breathe. I was relieved when we got to my room. He threw me on the bed, leaving the room before I could say anything.

"That was a bumpy ride." I massaged the sore spot on my stomach, lying in bed for a while.

I crawled to the bathroom and washed my face in the bathtub. It was impossible to have a bath. I felt crippled as I pushed myself up my bed. I thought of my family and Grey.

How did this happen? Why did I ditch my homework for a wedding?

I went to bed quicker than I'd expected, my tired eyes giving up.