Love Rewriting

chapters

Camile’s POV

The day of the introduction arrived, but I had no intention of stepping out of my room. I sat by the window, watching the preparations unfold outside, my heart heavy yet resolute.

I had made up my mind—not to cry, not to show weakness. They would never get the satisfaction of seeing me broken. I was tired of shedding tears over a family that never truly loved me. If anything, today only made one thing clear—I needed to take matters into my own hands. I needed to leave this prison I called home.

A home where I had always been invisible.

I turned to face my mirror, adjusting my hair with steady hands. My reflection looked different today—stronger, colder. I had made small changes to my appearance, not because I wanted to impress anyone, but because I refused to look like the fragile girl they thought I was.

Even though my father was angry at me, he still made sure I had food to eat and clothes to wear. Maybe guilt was finally creeping in, but I no longer cared about his conscience. He had taken away my only chance at happiness, and I would never forgive him for that.

Sighing, I moved to my bed, sinking into the soft mattress. Sleep felt like the only escape, if only for a little while.

Even though my father and I were no longer on good terms, at least one thing had changed—he had stopped Bella and her mother from openly disrespecting me. Before, I was treated like a servant, forced to clean the entire house despite the many workers we had. I was their favorite slave.

But now, things had shifted ever so slightly. And for that, I was… grateful? No. Not grateful—just relieved.

I was lost in my thoughts when a sudden knock echoed through my room.

"Hi, my sister," Bella’s sickeningly sweet voice drifted through the door.

I ignored her, staring at the ceiling, refusing to entertain whatever game she was playing.

"Would you not like to see my dress?" she teased, her voice laced with mockery.

Silence.

"Camile, can you please open the door? I would love to show you my dress," she taunted, dragging out the words as if it would get under my skin.

I clenched my jaw.

"Don’t be unfair to your sister," she added, her tone dripping with fake concern.

I knew she was doing it on purpose, trying to provoke a reaction from me. But I wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction. Not today. Not ever.

After what felt like an eternity, she finally gave up and walked away.

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

Closing my eyes, I allowed sleep to pull me under.

The moment my eyes fluttered open, a heavy silence wrapped around the house like an eerie fog. I guessed the introduction of both families had finally ended. Shifting under the covers, I pushed myself up, but an odd sensation crept through my body—weak, lightheaded, almost disconnected from myself.

Lately, I had been feeling different. My body had changed in ways I couldn’t explain, but I brushed it off, thinking it was nothing. Except… it kept getting worse. My hands trembled slightly as I tried to steady myself, but a wave of dizziness hit me like a crashing tide. My legs wobbled beneath me, my vision blurred, and before I could reach for support, the world spun violently.

A distant voice called my name, frantic and sharp, but it was fading—drowning in the darkness that swallowed me whole.

---

A dull ache throbbed at the back of my head when I regained consciousness. My vision wavered, shapes and shadows shifting before coming into focus. I blinked, taking in the unfamiliar ceiling, the sterile scent of medicine lingering in the air. Slowly, I sat up, the plushness of a couch beneath me.

I wasn’t alone.

My father stood a few feet away, speaking in hushed tones to a doctor, his posture rigid, tense. My stepmother sat across from me, her face unreadable, but her silence spoke volumes.

“How long was I asleep?” I croaked, my throat dry.

She didn’t answer. Instead, Bella’s smirk twisted into something cruel, her voice laced with amusement.

“Wow, sis. Congratulations.”

Confusion settled in my gut like a lead weight. Congratulations? For what?

Before I could ask, my father turned to me. The look in his eyes sent a chill down my spine—pure, unfiltered rage.

“Who is the father?” His voice was sharp, accusing.

My breath hitched. “What…?”

His fists clenched at his sides, his anger barely restrained. “Don’t play dumb with me, Camille! Who is the father?!”

I froze. My mind raced, searching for meaning behind his words. “I don’t understand,” I murmured, shaking my head.

His expression darkened, and without another word, he threw a paper at me. The crisp edges fluttered as it landed in my lap.

With trembling hands, I picked it up. My heartbeat thundered in my ears as my eyes scanned the contents.

Then the air left my lungs.

No.

No, this can’t be happening.

My fingers tightened around the paper, my vision tunneling, my body turning ice-cold. My chest heaved, but no words came out.

I lifted my gaze to my father’s, my lips parted in a silent plea for explanation.

But deep down, I already knew—this wasn’t a mistake. This was real.

And my life would never be the same again.