Chapter 4
Sarah slept longer than she had in years. In her dreams, she was a little girl again, safe in her grandmother’s small, cluttered house. Life back then moved more slowly. The air smelled like simmering soup, and rain gently tapped the tin roof. But even in dreams, the shadows found her. She remembered how people used to stare with pity, whispering behind their hands. That was how she learned the truth—her parents had abandoned her, and she had become a burden her grandmother carried alone. She cried for days. Children don’t know how to hide heartbreak. It wasn’t until her grandmother placed a knotted charm bracelet around her wrist and promised it would keep her safe that she finally stopped. “Sarah, my dear,” her grandmother had said softly, “your mom and dad didn’t leave you. They just can’t come back right now. One day, when you’re older, you’ll understand.” But Sarah never got the chance to grow up with her. Illness took her grandmother too soon. Her dream then shifted. Now Sarah was in the Stevens’ house—cold, spotless, and perpetually too quiet. In that place, she had always felt like an outsider. It didn’t matter how high her grades were or how careful she was not to step out of line. The smiles of her adoptive parents always disappeared the moment she walked into the room. And outside the house was even crueler. Her classmates didn’t bother pretending. They cut her clothes, tore her notebooks, and made her backpack vanish just before the bell rang. One moment stood out more than the rest. Her backpack had been strung up in a tree. She stood beneath it, pacing and panicked, jumping and failing to reach it. Her hands were scraped and stinging, and tears clung to her lashes, just waiting to fall. Then a breeze carried the smell of wild grass and warm earth. She looked up, and he was there. A tall boy in a school uniform, his collar undone just enough to look effortlessly cool. In his hand was her backpack. In his eyes, there was a calm, unbothered kind of kindness. Under the bright summer sun, he smiled. “Hey,” he said. “Nice to meet you. I’m Harvey.” When Sarah opened her eyes in the hospital, she stared up at the ceiling, dazed. Back then, she never would have believed that the boy smiling in the sunlight would grow into the man who caused her so much pain. Suddenly, a gentle beep interrupted her dream. Someone had pressed the call button next to her bed. For a brief second, something flickered in her chest. Maybe it was Harvey. Maybe, despite everything, he had come. Maybe he still cared. She turned her head. It wasn’t him. It was Joseph, the vineyard manager. Joseph saw the flicker of disappointment in her eyes and scoffed. “Don’t get your hopes up. Sir Harvey is with Miss Zoey. If you’re tired of living like this, maybe stop acting like a victim and apologize. To both of them.” Sarah let out a bitter laugh and thought inwardly, ‘Apologize? Apologize for loving Harvey? For refusing to let Zoey cheat her way through life?’ But she didn’t say a word. Her silence said enough. Joseph rolled his eyes, yanked open the door, and walked out. … A few minutes later, Zoey walked in. Her belly had just begun to show, a small curve that hit Sarah like a punch to the chest. Zoey folded her arms across it, her posture casual but her expression smug. Her voice came out sweet, but every word landed like a slap. “Sarah, I told you not to cross me. Now that you know Harvey only got close to you because of me, how does that feel? Like your whole little world just collapsed?” She paused, overseeing Sarah, savoring the moment before she added with mock sweetness, “Oh, and by the way, your grandma’s grave? It’s the perfect location. I joked to Harvey about needing a peaceful resting place for Luna, and he just handed it over.” Sarah’s breath caught in her throat. She knew exactly who Luna was. Zoey’s hamster. Her heart stopped. Harvey had given up her grandmother’s grave for a hamster? The disbelief barely had time to settle before memories slammed into her like a freight train. She remembered taking Harvey to that hillside when things were still good. She had run ahead, cheeks flushed with excitement, pulling him by the hand. She had looked at him like he was her future. “Grandma,” she had said, grinning from ear to ear, “this is Harvey. He treats me so well. You don’t have to worry anymore. We’ll come visit all the time.” But after the so-called debts took over that day, she was never allowed to return. Harvey had known. He had known exactly what that place meant to her. And he had still done this. Something inside her cracked wide open. She didn’t care that she’d just fainted. She didn’t care about the IV needle in her arm, the hospital gown clinging to her, or the pounding pain behind her eyes. With strength she didn’t know she had, Sarah shoved Zoey aside and bolted from the room.