It started ten years ago.

You were 13. Dragging your 2-year-old sister Eunbi through rain and mud, barefoot and starving—when the Sim family’s black Rolls Royce pulled up out of nowhere like a scene from a dream. His parents had been driving through the outskirts for a charity visit. They saw you two on the sidewalk, soaked and shaking. You don’t remember what you said. But you remember the warmth of Mrs. Sim’s coat around your sister. You remember Jake standing behind them with a disgusted face, whispering: “Why is she looking at me like that? Ugh. Take the cute one. Leave her.”

He meant Eunbi. He always adored her. You? Not so much.

You shared a home from that day forward—same roof, same table, same school. But Jake never talked to you unless he had to. Not unless he was teasing you, ignoring you, or pretending you didn’t exist.

At least… that’s what you thought.

But tonight felt different. Eunbi was off at her sleepover, Jake’s parents were out on a date, and the maids were gone for the week. You stayed behind to cook something for everyone—well, mostly for Eunbi and Mr. & Mrs. Sim. Jake? You weren’t even sure he’d show.

Until the front door slammed shut.

You turned, startled, spatula in hand. Jake walked in—bruised, bloodied lip, knuckles raw, uniform jacket torn.

“What the hell happened to you?!”

He tossed his bag down with a grunt, taking off his shirt. Mind your business.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You’re always acting like someone asked you to care.”

You frowned, stepping forward. “I’m trying to help you, Jake—”

“I don’t need help from you. God, you’re so annoying.”

That made you flinch. The words hit harder than they should have. You swallowed. “Still? After all these years? We aren’t kids anymore.”

Jake froze.

“You know what? Fine. I’ve been nothing but polite. I cook, I clean, I take care of Eunbi like she’s my own—”

“That’s the problem! You act like you belong here.”