**Prelude** The day Sean and I decided to move to the same city, I completely screwed up. I didn't show up when I said I would. He probably couldn't wrap his head around why I suddenly went radio silent after going home to pack. A few days later, I finally called him. The second he picked up, I could hear the fury in his voice. "Thea Brown, are you seriously trying to break up with me out of nowhere?" I glanced around at the cold, steel bars around me, the reality of where I was hitting me hard. I forced myself to say words I didn't mean. "Yeah, I'm going overseas to live the good life." His response came instantly, and it stung. "Fine. Don't ever contact me again." **Prelude ends** Five years later, I was barely scraping by, working a small booth in a night market near the tourist area. I did manicures for tourists while selling handmade trinkets on the side. That night, the rain started drizzling. The woman at the neighboring stall, packing up her things, called over to me. "Thea, why don't you head home? It's starting to rain!" I shook my head, trying to hide the frustration. The truth was, I hadn't made a single sale all day, and I wasn't about to leave empty-handed. She sighed and gave me a sympathetic look. "Honey, that's not how you make money. You've hardly eaten today. Don't be so hard on yourself." Just then, a couple stopped in front of my booth—a picture-perfect pair. "Hey, how much for a manicure?" the girl asked, her voice sweet as she casually flipped through the designs. I instinctively lowered my head, wiped the chair for the customer, and hurried to offer my services. "The basic designs are just 10 bucks, but if you'd like, I can throw in a handmade plush toy on the house. I make them myself!" She barely glanced at the toys before pointing at a trendy design. "I'll take this one. Skip the plush toy. I'm not into unlicensed stuff." The guy beside her opened an umbrella and held it over her, his voice dripping with affection. "I can't believe you still want to get all dolled up in this rain." My hand froze as I reached for my tools. I hadn't heard that voice in years, but I'd recognize it anywhere. It was Sean. I stole a quick glance, finally seeing him clearly. He had lost some weight but was even more handsome than I remembered. In that moment, my heart felt like a leaf caught in a storm, helplessly tossed around, with no place to land. I mechanically reached for the girl's hand, forcing myself to steady my shaking fingers as I began to paint her nails. From the corner of my eye, I saw Sean pull up a chair and sit down, his hand never wavering in holding the umbrella over her. It reminded me of our college days, when he'd wait for me outside the dorm whenever it rained. He'd always tilt the umbrella toward me, making sure I stayed dry. But that attention wasn't mine anymore. Now, he stood beside another girl, completely focused on her, shielding her from the rain as if I no longer existed. "Wait, take off everything you just did." The girl suddenly pulled her hand back, holding it up to her face and blowing on it. I snapped out of my thoughts, anxiety creeping in. "Miss, do you... not like it?" She frowned and shook her head. "Your hands feel like they've been through a cheese grater. It's... unsettling." "How do you expect to do manicures with hands like that? Don't you care about your clients' comfort?" Only then did I notice the state of my hands. They were rough, dry, cracked, callused from years of sewing and manual labor in jail. My face burned with embarrassment, my chest tightening. Sean suddenly laughed, ruffling the girl's hair, and reached into his pocket for his wallet. "Just take the polish off for her. Keep the change." Then, he finally looked at me. That glance froze his hand in midair, the money halfway between his pocket and the table. I saw the shift in his expression—the hardness that replaced the softness I used to know. The muscles in his jaw tightened, and those eyes that once held affection were now filled with contempt. The girl pulled out a sanitizing wipe from her purse and started cleaning off the polish. She turned to him, confused. "Do you know her?" Sean flashed a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and it sent a chill through me. "No, I don't. She just looks... pathetic." He flicked a few more bills onto the table, tossing them carelessly at me. "Call it charity for a beggar. Let's go." His words cut through me like knives. He recognized me. And he couldn't have cared less. Not when I was at rock bottom.