This medication was supposed to help bnce her nerves after returning from Norway.

    As Sylvia popped a pill into her mouth, Chris Lennon''s words echoed in her head: "Take these only if you really have to."

    With a sigh, she put the bottle back down and reached for her phone instead.

    She didn''t expect the first post she saw would be from Reese.

    Reese had her hair up in a messy bun, with damp strands clinging to her cheeks. Clearly, she''d just stepped out of the shower. What really caught Sylvia''s attention, though, was the oversized nnel pajama top Reese was wearing- Rupert''s pajama top.

    "Do I look like a kid sneaking into a grown-up''s closet? LOL," Reese had captioned it, grinning blissfully at the camera.

    But Sylvia only felt her skin flush hot, because she remembered wearing that same shirt not so long ago.

    Suddenly, she shot up from bed and began scrubbing at her arms, neck, and chest-anywhere that shirt had touched—until her skin burned and stung, until angry red marks and even blood appeared beneath her fingernails.

    Only when the pain became unbearable did she stop, staring nkly at her hands, blood seeping between her fingers.

    Without hesitation, she swallowed the pill, pulled the covers up over her head, and curled into a ball.

    She didn''t know how much time had passed before the medication finally dragged her into sleep.

    The next morning, Sylvia woke up to sharp pain. One look in the mirror told her the wounds fromst night weren''t healing-they looked even worse.

    She was a woman, after all, and scars in such obvious ces-her neck and arms were thest thing she needed.

    So she made an appointment and headed to the hospital.

    After a quick check, the doctor prescribed her an antibiotic ointment and some bandages.

    As she was leaving, she ran right into Chris in the hallway.

    "Sylvia? What are you doing here?" he asked, frowning.

    "Nothing important," she replied, eager to get away.

    At this point, Sylvia wanted nothing to do with anyone connected to Rupert.

    She turned to leave, but Chris caught up to her.

    "Hey, what happened to your neck? Did you get into a fight?"

    Only then did Sylvia realize she

    hadn''t fixed her cor after the doctor''s exam. Flustered, she pulled it up "Just scratched myself by ident. I''ve got to go."

    "Wait." Chris stepped in front of her, his tone serious. "How long has this been going on?"

    "I don''t know what you''re talking about," Sylvia said, trying to sound calm.

    Chris narrowed his eyes. The second she looked away, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her sleeve up.

    His face darkened when he saw the fresh, crisscrossed wounds on her arm.

    "Don''t lie to me, Sylvia. What''s going on?"

    She yanked her hand back, pulled her sleeve down, and met his gaze. "Dr. Chris, please—just stay out of it,

    You told you, I''m fine. What, are

    you going to go tell Rupert again?"

    "Sylvia, please don''t do this," Chris said gently, worry etched on his face.

    "Oh,e on. We both know exactly why I''m like this, don''t we? I bet you already got the invite, right?" Her voice was icy.

    He fell silent.

    "For your sake and for his, Dr. Chris, just pretend you never saw anything."

    With that, she turned and walked away.

    Chris watched her retreat, noticing how much thinner she looked since thest time he''d seen her. With a worried sigh, he pulled out his phone.

    But on the screen was a new tweet from Rupert, posted just three minutes ago: "Engagement party at the Garcia house. Don''t forget."

    Chris pressed his lips together, torn but finally choosing to respect Sylvia''s wishes.

    Sylvia wrapped her scarf tighter as she left the hospital.

    Since she was already out, she figured she might as well stop by the grocery store and stock up for a few days—she nned to hole up at home.

    The streets were quiet; most people had already left town for the holidays. The market was nearly deserted.

    As she walked, the sudden roar of a motorcycle engine echoed behind her. Sylvia didn''t bother to look-there was plenty of room on the road.

    But something about the sound made her chest tighten. She spu around just in time to see a motorcycle barreling straight toward her, front wheel lifting, tire spinning wildly-

    —and aiming right for her head.