I Don’t Love You, I Don’t Remember You, I Don’t Need You

All eyes were on me. Everyone was staring, their faces wide with shock. Only Manuel didn’t move, standing in front of me, perfectly dressed in a sharp suit, expression cold and empty, his eyes completely unreadable.

“How many times are you gonna play this game?” His voice was low, slow, full of sarcasm, and it cut through me. “I’ve told you over and over, no matter how much you act out, it won’t work.”

He leaned slightly forward, “I don’t like you. I just don’t like you.”

The words hit me like ice. The crowd snapped out of their shock and whispers started spreading fast.

“I knew it! How could Miss Moore suddenly stop loving President Davenport?”

“Yeah, she tried to kill herself forty-nine times just to get him to notice her more.”

“Tsk tsk, how sad and pathetic…”

I clenched my fists so hard my nails cut into my palms, but I didn’t even feel it. I opened my mouth, trying to say it again. I wasn’t playing. I really didn’t love him anymore.

Before I could speak, my father’s voice cut through, stern and sharp. “I apologize to everyone. It’s our fault for failing to raise her. That’s why she’s done something as shameful as stealing.”

He waved a hand to the bodyguards. “Take her to the hotel’s cold storage. Let her freeze overnight. Maybe she’ll sober up.”

My pupils shrank, my chest froze. “I told you I didn’t steal it!” I shouted, but no one even looked at me.

Two bodyguards grabbed my wrists roughly. I struggled, but then a sudden sharp pain shot up the back of my neck. I stumbled backward, my vision going blurry. My last sight before darkness took me was Manuel standing there, looking completely indifferent. Not a flicker of worry, not even a frown.

I woke up to biting cold. My eyelashes were frosted over, my breath came out in white clouds, and my body was stiff. My skin felt frozen, and even my blood seemed like it had slowed down. The thermometer in my head told me it was well below zero. I was only wearing a thin slip dress. My exposed skin was turning blue.

I had to survive. I had to. The immigration papers would be ready soon. I had to leave. I had to start over.

I forced myself to crawl toward the door. My fingers were numb, purple and stiff, but I pounded on the metal door anyway. “Help… please… someone… help me…” My voice was barely recognizable, hoarse and cracked. Still no answer.

Then I heard a voice outside, soft, laughing.

“Stop knocking, sister.”

I froze. Amber.

Her voice dripped with smugness. “Everyone’s busy celebrating my birthday right now. Who’s got time for you?” She laughed lightly. “Oh, and here’s a funny thing…”

“Is today your birthday too?” I croaked, voice shaking.

“Unfortunately, no one remembers. Aw, such pity.” She giggled, cruelly.

I bit my lip so hard it tasted like blood.

“I’m the center of attention in a huge, fancy banquet hall while you’re freezing half to death in a storage room,” Amber continued. “Aurora, so what if you’re a real rich heiress? So what if I came from an orphanage?”

I could hear her smirk through the words. “You’re still under my feet to stomp on.”

I closed my eyes, trying not to puke from the metallic taste rising in my throat.

Then her phone started ringing, and Amber had it on speaker, obviously so I could hear everything.

“Amber, where did you go?” Manuel’s voice came through, deep, calm, and… warm. The kind of voice I’d never heard him use with me.

“I feel a little dizzy…” Amber’s voice sounded weak and fragile. “I’m in the lounge…”

“Stay there. I’ll be right there, baby. Wait for me.” Then the call ended, leaving the cold storage dead silent again.

I closed my eyes. That voice brought everything back. The diary, the pages blurred with my tears. All those nights I spent scribbling my misery. All the times I watched him dote on Amber. The birthday last year where he rented the whole revolving restaurant just to show her snow. The fever she had while he stayed by her side all night, missing company events. The way his eyes softened when he looked at her but turned icy whenever he saw me.

I remembered how pathetic I felt, hiding in shadows, watching them fall in love while I begged for scraps of attention. And I realized something… I didn’t love him anymore. I hadn’t loved him in a long time. My lips twitched into a small, bitter smile, and then darkness swallowed me.

...

When I woke up, I was in my bed at the villa. Loud, ridiculous laughter and some cartoon voices shook the walls outside. I propped myself up, rubbed my eyes, and walked to the door.

Amber was sitting on the living room floor, legs crossed, snacks in her arms, doubled over laughing at the TV. “Sister’s awake?” she said, looking up with a grin. “Oops, did I wake you? Sorry about my cartoons.”

She crunched her chips loudly and kept talking. “I’ve been feeling tight in my chest these last few days. The villa air is nice, so Manuel let me stay a few days to recover… Hope you don’t mind, sister.”

I glanced at the sofa. Manuel was there, flipping through financial statements, long fingers moving carefully, eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses sharp and focused. TV blaring, Amber making every sound possible, and he didn’t even flinch.

I remembered something from my diary. The day I sat next to him eating an apple. He got angry, said the chewing noise was disturbing, told me to leave. From then on, every movement, every breath had to be quiet when he was in the study.

Now… Amber rattled the chips bag, made all sorts of sound effects with the anime, and he didn’t look up once. The difference between love and no love was so clear.

I was about to speak, but Manuel finally said, “If it hadn’t been for that accident back then, this family would have been yours.” His tone was flat, eyes still on the documents. “She’s just a usurper. Why do you need to report to her?”

I stayed calm. “Yes, you don’t need to report to me. Stay as long as you want.”

He paused, turned the page, and finally glanced at me. His gaze shifted behind his glasses, slightly lower, and I caught it. This wasn’t the scared me he was used to. This wasn't me begging for scraps.

I felt a flicker inside me, a small spark I hadn’t felt in years. I didn’t belong to them anymore. And maybe, finally, I didn’t care.