Unwritten Spring Unending Sorrow

For the ninety-ninth time, Thomas Wells brought a strange woman home.

Following his instructions, I was washing Chloe Brooks's feet.

Without warning, she kicked the basin violently, sending hot water splashing onto my face.

"Thomas, Ms. Harris just pinched my foot! My feet are for ballet—I'm in so much pain. What am I supposed to do for tomorrow's competition?"

Thomas flew into a rage. To punish me, he had someone bring a brazier, and I was forced to press my foot into the burning coals.

The smell of burning flesh filled the entire living room in an instant.

Thomas paid no attention as I collapsed to the floor, curling up and breaking out in a cold sweat.

He turned away, carrying Chloe off to the bedroom.

Shortly afterward, I called Thomas's sister, Tracy.

"Tracy, I'm sorry. I don't intend to be with Thomas anymore."

After that, I left and vanished from his life.

Later, I heard that Mr. Wells of the Wells family had gone mad.

Chloe Brooks wrinkled her nose at the smell of my burned foot—it was just too much for her.

Thomas Wells had his servants toss me right out of the doors.

I slumped against the wall, shivering from the pain.

In the background, the TV in the living room droned on about a nasty typhoon hitting us tonight.

There I was, in just a light jacket, in the dead of winter.

I banged on the window, crying out, "Thomas, please! Let me in! The typhoon's coming, and I'll die out here!"

When I was 15, my parents locked me up and planned to end me in a fire. Thomas was the hero who barged in and saved me from that fiery fate.

He was my savior once, but then, he seemed keen on seeing me gone.

I pounded harder, the window shaking with each hit.

Finally, Thomas came over, looking annoyed in his pajamas. "You're making a racket. What's wrong with you?

"Get moving. You woke us, so make yourself useful. Chloe's craving a cake from Victoria Square. Off you go."

"But there's a typhoon, and I'm hurt. Can't you just—"

He crouched down, his fingers ice-cold as they clamped onto my chin. "I said, go."

The servant bundled me up in a bulky, padded coat.

Stepping outside, the chill wind slapped my face raw.

I walked through the pain, teeth clenched.

By the time I got back, my umbrella was history, snapped by the wind. I was a sweaty, bedraggled mess.

Shaking, I handed the cake over to Chloe.

She lounged in the bedroom I used to share with Thomas, her nightgown more teasing than sleep, sampling the cake with a spoon.

"I can't stand this flavor—it's like a rosemary-lemon one. I wanted strawberry," she complained, tossing the cake into the garbage can with a look of disgust.

Thomas overheard and turned to me. "Go get another one, and make sure it's strawberry this time.

"If you're not back in an hour, you might