Chapter 1

I was born with a soft, delicate voice. Whenever I got emotional, it naturally turned even sweeter.

On the second day of the Fourth of July long weekend, my boyfriend, Julian, took me and his best friend, Sasha, hiking on an unmarked mountain trail.

When we reached a steep slope, my foot slipped, and half my body went over the edge.

My fingertips dug desperately into the rock.

"Julian, I can't hold on! Pull me up!"

I was trembling all over, my voice high and shaky with fear.

But no hand reached down to help me.

Instead, I heard strangers laughing and jeering from above.

"Quit acting! There's a meadow right below you. She's putting on that baby voice for attention!"

I looked down.

Sure enough, a thick stretch of grass covered the ground below.

At the edge of the cliff, Julian and Sasha were holding up their phones, laughing so hard they could barely stand.

"Hahaha! Jules, you owe me a thousand bucks! I told you—even if she was about to die, she still wouldn't drop that little-girl voice!"

Julian sent her the money through Venmo, still laughing.

"Fair is fair. Tonight's BBQ at the campsite is on me."

Then he looked down at me hanging off the cliff, his tone casual.

"You need to be more independent. And stop talking like that in public. It's embarrassing."

I let go.

My body dropped onto the meadow below.

My nails split, blood seeping from my fingertips.

In that moment, the past three years suddenly felt like one big joke.

I pulled out my phone and, with trembling fingers, sent my boss a message.

[Marcus, I'll take the three-year assignment in Prague.]

...

Julian made his way down the slope and tossed a bottle of antiseptic at my feet.

"Clean yourself up. There was obviously grass underneath you. You didn't have to scream like you were dying. People were laughing at you."

I pushed myself off the ground. Blood continued to bead along my fingers.

Julian glanced at my injuries and frowned.

"I checked the terrain. You couldn't have gotten seriously hurt. How did you manage to end up like this?"

Sasha followed behind him, still clutching the phone she'd used to record me. A flicker of guilt crossed her face.

"Evie, I'm sorry. I didn't know it would be this bad."

She timidly held out a tissue.

Before I could take it, Julian pulled her behind him protectively.

"Come on, Evelyn. Be the bigger person. It was just a joke."

I stared at the tissue without reaching for it.

"Sasha's stomach hurts from laughing so hard. I'm taking her down first. You can take your time."

Julian supported Sasha as though his decision were the most natural thing in the world.

I looked down at my scraped, bleeding knees.

"There's no cell service here. I can't get a ride."

He casually wiped some dirt from my face and rubbed it onto his pants.

"Then walk to the main road. I'll come back for you."

"I can barely walk."

His steps paused, but he didn't turn around.

"Then wait here. I'll get Sasha settled and come back for you."

With that, he helped Sasha down the mountain.

I stood there, watching them disappear around a bend in the trail.

Wind swept across my scraped skin, making every wound burn.

Images from the past three years flooded my mind.

Whenever Sasha couldn't sleep, Julian would leave me alone with a fever and stay up all night gaming with her.

When Sasha moved, he canceled our anniversary dinner to help her assemble IKEA cabinets.

Again and again, I told myself he was simply loyal to his friends.

But today, at the edge of that cliff, he had turned my terror into entertainment and even bet money on it.

Something inside me, the part that had always made excuses for him, finally switched off.

Dragging my injured leg, I walked along the winding mountain road for more than an hour before I finally managed to call an Uber.

When I opened the door to our apartment, I found my pink slippers kicked into a corner by the entryway.

Barefoot, I went into the bathroom to clean my wounds and found the sink a mess.

My makeup wipes had been used until nothing remained but the empty package, and the trash can was overflowing with coffee-stained tissues.

Clearly, Julian had brought Sasha back here and used my things to clean up spilled coffee.

Normally, I would have texted him and demanded an explanation.

This time, I said nothing.

I turned on the faucet and rinsed the blood from my split nails. The pain went straight to the bone.

My phone vibrated on the sink.

A message from Julian.

[I took Sasha out to get something warm to eat. Order yourself some DoorDash.]

I didn't reply.

After bandaging my wounds, I opened my desk drawer and took out the overseas transfer application I had left untouched for a month.

Then I picked up a pen and signed my name on the applicant line.

Evelyn Sinclair.