Chapter 4
939 Words
Silence stretched between them. A silence so heavy that Miel swore she could hear the sound of her heart cracking, piece by piece.
Her fingers clenched the hem of her coat, knuckles white. She forced herself to breathe, to steady the storm raging inside her.
She had prepared herself for pain. She had prepared herself for the worst.
But this?
This was beyond cruel.
She forced herself to breathe.
Inhale. Exhale.
"Hold it together, Miel… just a little longer."
She swallowed hard, her throat burning. Then, with a voice that trembled only slightly, she asked, "Does Tia know?"
The moment the words left her lips, she regretted them. Because deep down, she already knew the answer.
Ethan didn’t hesitate.
He nodded.
And that was when Miel felt her heart shatter completely.
She let out a quiet, bitter laugh. "I see."
That was all she could say.
Because if she said more, she might just break.
Tia.
The same Tia who would stay up late chatting with her about school, about life, about silly things that didn’t matter. The same Tia who would text her excitedly whenever she passed a tough exam. The same Tia who once cried in her arms when she failed a project, and Miel had stayed up all night to help her fix it.
A bright-eyed college student with dreams, with ambitions. And Miel had worked triple shifts to make sure she could reach them.
She thought of Ethan’s mother—the woman who had laid in a hospital bed for months, barely clinging to life. She thought of the countless sleepless nights she had spent juggling jobs, making sure the medical bills were paid.
She thought of all of it.
Every single thing she had done for this family.
And yet—
She was nothing to them.
Just another chess piece. Just another person to discard.
Miel’s vision blurred, but she refused to let the tears fall. Not in front of him.
That was when Ethan reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small slip of paper.
A cheque.
He placed it on the table and slid it toward her.
"Let’s end this properly," he said, his tone so casual it made her stomach turn. "Eli knows about us. I don’t want to make things complicated. Besides, her father is well-connected. With his help, I can be the youngest director in the industry. That’s not something you could ever give me, Miel."
His words were calm, indifferent—like they weren’t ripping her apart. He didn’t wait for her response.
"I’ll take care of Mom and Tia from now on," he continued, his gaze unwavering. "This is for everything you’ve done for us. You don’t need to worry anymore."
Miel stared at the cheque.
Ten thousand dollars.
She blinked.
Then blinked again.
It is really Ten thousand dollars.
That was what her youth was worth?
That was what her love, her sacrifices, her sleepless nights—everything she had given to him—was worth?
A single slip of paper.
A cold laugh bubbled in her throat.
She picked up the cheque, held it between her fingers, and studied it like it was some foreign object.
Then, slowly, she looked at Ethan.
His eyes held no warmth. No remorse.
Just a quiet expectation.
Like he truly believed she would take it.
Miel inhaled sharply.
For once—just this once—she wouldn't let him walk all over her.
Then—she let go.
The paper fluttered onto the table.
She grabbed the edges and, with deliberate slowness, ripped it in half.
Ethan’s eyes widened slightly.
She tore it again. And again. Until the tiny pieces of paper were nothing but scraps.
Then, with steady fingers, she picked them up—
And tossed them in his face.
The small, shredded pieces drifted down, landing in his lap.
"You think money can pay for everything I’ve done?" Her voice was calm—too calm. "Do you even remember what I did for you, Ethan?"
He said nothing.
Miel took a slow step forward, her nails digging into her palms.
"When your mother’s treatment was nearly stopped because of hospital debts, who took out a loan to keep her alive? Me."
Ethan’s jaw tensed.
"When Tia needed money for her college tuition, who worked three shifts just to make sure she could study without worry? Me."
He exhaled sharply, looking away.
But Miel wasn’t done.
"When you were out of the country, focusing on your career, who made sure your family had food on the table? Who worked herself to the bone just so you wouldn’t have to come back to a mess?"
She pointed at herself, her voice trembling.
"Me, Ethan. It was me."
Silence.
For the first time, something flickered in his expression. Something close to guilt.
But it was gone in an instant.
Ethan leaned back, a bitter smirk playing on his lips. "Well," he said, "I never asked you to do all that. Still, I didn’t forget and paid for it. What else would an orphan like you be worth?"
Miel inhaled sharply.
For a moment, she thought she misheard him.
But no.
That was exactly what he said.
She let out a hollow laugh.
"You’re right." Her voice was eerily steady now. "An orphan like me can never be a match for the would-be youngest director of the Atlas Group. I was just a fool to have given my precious youth, love, and care to a bunch of ungrateful snakes."
She turned away.
She didn’t need to say anything else.
This was over.
But then—
His voice stopped her.
- Writer
