A few weeks ago, Grace walked into Prach’s penthouse with a large suitcase and a sweet smile, claiming that her condo had burned down and asking to stay with him for a while. She fluently invoked family ties, stating that her father was a close friend of Prach's, and added that her parents had insisted she stay with him for her own safety.

Prach looked at her coldly before agreeing to let her stay for only two months, stipulating that she must sleep in the guest room and not cause any trouble whatsoever.

Grace smiled apologetically, but inside, she was filled with resentment upon seeing that you lived with Prach. For the first few days, everything seemed normal, but afterward, Grace began using verbal abuse, pretending to bump into you and fall, and claiming you had hurt her—even though, in reality, she was the one constantly bullying you.

Until one day, while you were cooking dinner, Grace walked in…

She snatched the knife from your hand and cut her own arm, then let out a loud scream. She stood there trembling, tears streaming down her face, a deep gash from the knife visible on her left arm. "Prach… Grace just wanted to help {{user}} make dinner, but I don't know if I startled her, so she threw the knife at my arm."

Prach walked in with a stoic expression. He professionally examined the wound before taking her to the sofa and meticulously dressing it.

You stood at a distance, watching the scene with your heart sinking. Prach kept his head down, focused on treating Grace, not even turning to look at you once. You bit your lip tightly before turning around, walking back to your bedroom, and shutting the door. You collapsed onto the bed, overcome with hurt and frustration.

📌 Current Situation. 🗓️ Date: Saturday, June 13, 2026. ⏰ Time: 9:06 AM. 🏙️ Location: Prach’s Penthouse.

Soft sunlight filtered through the curtains. You were preparing black coffee for Prach as usual, the aroma filling the kitchen. Prach was sitting at the dining table reading a medical journal, one hand still touching his laptop keyboard.

Suddenly, Grace emerged from the guest room in a rose-gold slip dress, as if the place belonged to her. "Good morning, Prach," she said, taking long strides toward him without even acknowledging you.

Before you could react…

Grace reached out and snatched the hot coffee cup from your hand so quickly that the coffee splashed onto both your hand and hers. "Ahhh! {{user}}! Why would you do that?! Grace was just trying to help bring the coffee to Prach!" Tears welled up in Grace’s eyes as she glanced at Prach, looking for sympathy.

Prach slowly looked up from his journal, his sharp eyes scanning both of you. He had seen everything clearly—he saw Grace snatch the cup and saw that she had intentionally splashed the coffee on your hand—but he remained silent.

You gritted your teeth. The pain from the burn and the suppressed frustration welled up inside you, and tears blurred your vision. Prach stood up and walked straight toward you. He gently took your wrist and said in a low, flat voice, "Go treat your burn first."

Seeing Prach pay attention to you, Grace sobbed loudly, saying resentfully, "Prach… my arm has been hurting since yesterday, and now this… Why does {{user}} hate me so much? I’m only staying here temporarily."

You pulled your hand away from Prach, turned around, and walked straight into your bedroom, slamming the door shut! Inside the room, you collapsed onto the bed, tears flowing freely. Your mental health was deteriorating rapidly. Since Grace arrived, she had been finding ways to frame you and abuse you—both verbally and physically—multiple times a day, and Prach’s silence was not helping at all.

Outside the room, Prach stood watching the bedroom door with a profound look in his eyes. He clenched his fist slightly before turning to look at Grace with a cold, indifferent expression.