Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English | NEW
Synopsis
"Welcome home, Chloe, homeowner."
Chloe was wearing my slippers, standing inside the house Julian and I were supposed to get married in. She tilted her head and giggled at the digital lock.
"Oops! Why does it call me the homeowner?"
"Julian, did you program it wrong?"
Julian’s voice was smooth and gentle. "I just used your voice profile to test it out. We’ll add your sister’s later."
*Add mine later.*
Those two words dropped casually, like a needle driving straight into my heart.
For this house, from inspecting floor plans to running around hardware stores, picking tiles, and supervising contractors, I’d taken time off work over a dozen times.
To save a bit of money, I took two-hour bus rides in the dead of winter to check out suburban model homes.
Yet standing here today, the person welcomed "home" by the door lock wasn't me.
It was Chloe.
I was just the outsider responsible for footing the bills and making compromises.
And I was exhausted—so exhausted that I didn't even want this house anymore.
The photographer poked his head out from the living room with his camera.
"Chloe, one more time. Make it natural as you walk in. Maybe rest your hand casually on Julian’s arm."
I froze.
Chloe smiled and stepped back outside.
The door opened again.
Wearing my slippers, she took my fiancé’s arm and walked into my marital home.
The smart lock chimed again: "Welcome home, Chloe, homeowner."
The photographer clicked the shutter, satisfied.
"That’s the shot. Feels totally like home."
Standing to the side, I suddenly didn't know what to do with my hands.
Chloe waved at me. "Eve, don't block the camera! Grab that throw pillow for me, would you?"
Her tone was so effortless.
So natural—as if running her errands, giving up my spot, and cleaning up her messes had been my sworn duty my entire life.
When we took family photos as kids, she’d whine that I blocked her next to Mom.
Mom would pull me aside and say, "You're the older sister. Let Chloe stand in the center."
When she forgot her homework in school, I lied to cover for her.
When she broke my trophy, Mom told me to comfort her: "Chloe didn't mean to. She's already scared."
Then I met Julian.
I thought I finally found someone who would put me in the center.
But the first time Julian met Chloe, he smiled and said, "Your sister is so much livelier than you."
From then on, whenever the three of us ate out, he handed her the menu first.
When we traveled, he asked her if she was tired first.
When she looked for a job, he cared more than I did, personally having his assistant polish her resume.
I threw a fit once.
Julian was fixing Chloe’s laptop at the time. Hearing my complaints, he pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Eve, she's your sister. You've spoiled her since childhood. Isn't treating her well just another way of loving you?"
The photographer called out again, "Eve, step toward the kitchen, please. Don't let your shadow get in the frame."
I handed the pillow to Chloe.
She took it, hugged it to her chest, and sat down on the light grey couch I had spent weeks picking out.
Julian leaned over beside her, adjusting the cushion behind her back.
The photographer fired off a dozen shots.
In the photos, they looked like newlyweds moving into their dream home.
And I looked like a temporary delivery girl.
Yet in just seven days, Julian and I were supposed to sign our marriage license.
In two weeks, we were supposed to host a housewarming party to introduce our new place to friends and family.
I had watched this place turn from bare drywall into a home, nail by nail.
I had even measured the exact inches beside the washer to fit my laundry basket.
Oblivious to my silence, Chloe excitedly swung open the master bedroom door.
"Eve, I love this room with the bay window! The sunlight is incredible!"
I walked over and saw her already curled up on the window seat, wrapped in my plush throw blanket.
I had bought that blanket for myself.
I had pictured it so many times: coming home from work, curling up by the window with a book while Julian finished up work in the living room and soup simmered quietly on the stove.
Ordinary, peaceful, safe.
The kind of home I had always longed for.
Chloe looked up at Julian. "Julian, can I stay in this room for a while? My lease just ended, and I haven't found a good place yet."
I thought Julian would look at me.
Even just a glance.
Instead, he just smiled. "As long as your sister doesn't mind."
Chloe turned to me right away. "Eve, you won't mind, right? You and Julian will be in the master bedroom anyway, so this room is just sitting empty."
My throat tightened. "I was planning to make that my study."
The smile on Chloe's face faded slightly.
"A study?"
Clutching the blanket, she lowered her voice. "But I really don't have anywhere to stay right now. Come on, Eve, I’m not a stranger. It's just for a little while."
Julian finally looked at me, his brows knitted.
"Eve, you can set up a study anytime. Chloe finding a place to live is urgent."Here we went again.
Her needs were always urgent.
Mine could always wait.
I looked at him. "Did you even ask me why I wanted that room as a study?"
Julian paused.
Of course he forgot.
That room faced south and had the best sunlight.
I had told him I wanted to bring in the old wooden desk my dad left behind.
My dad passed away early, and I didn't have many memories of him.
But that desk had seen me through high school exams and the hardest nights of my early career.
I wanted it in my future home, like a piece of him was still walking forward with me.
Julian had known.
Chloe had known too.
Yet both of them forgot.
Or rather, they never truly cared.
A sudden, suffocating exhaustion washed over me.
Not the kind you feel after an argument.
It was decades of piled-up weariness finally finding an exit.
I picked up my purse by the entryway.
Julian asked, "Where are you going?"
"I have some things to handle."
He checked his watch. "Don't take too long. We still need to shoot the kitchen footage later."
I let out a faint, quiet laugh.
He didn't even ask what I needed to handle.
Nor did he notice that I left those cream-colored slippers by the door.
As I walked out of the apartment, Chloe’s voice drifted from behind:
"Julian, can we change the curtains to blush pink? The grey feels kind of cold."
Julian answered, "Whatever you like."
I pressed the elevator button for the ground floor.
In the mirrored wall, my face was pale, but my eyes were terrifyingly dry.
I realized this house probably never had room for me from the start.
I didn't turn my phone back on until the next morning.
The housewarming group chat already had over a hundred unread messages.
Chloe had posted a short clip.
The thumbnail was her and Julian standing in the foyer, the smart lock announcing her as the homeowner.
Her caption read: *First night in the new home. So this is what it feels like when someone prepares a whole home for you.*
Julian had liked it.
Staring at that little red heart, a wave of bitter irony hit me.
Then Chloe tagged me in the chat:
[Eve, I changed the housewarming menu! The home-style dishes you picked were way too plain. I booked this trendy private chef service—their plating looks so aesthetic for photos.]
Julian chimed in:
[Yeah. We'll have a lot of guests, so it's better to keep things classy.]
The dishes I originally ordered were from my dad's hometown.
Braised ribs, clay pot tofu, steamed fish, braised duck.
Simple, unpretentious food.
When I was little, my favorite thing in the world was the clay pot tofu Dad made after work.
He’d fry the tofu until both sides were golden crisp, then simmer it in a clay pot.
I’d lean against the kitchen door waiting, and he’d tease me for being a little foodie.
After he died, nobody ever made that dish for me again.
I wanted to taste it again on the day we warmed our new home.
Not to impress anyone.
Just to quietly tell him: *Dad, I have a home of my own now.*
I had told Julian the story behind it.
Back then, he said, "Sure, whatever makes you happy."
Now, he had forgotten.
Or maybe he remembered, but decided it wasn't important.
Chloe sent another voice note in the group:
"Eve, have you been stressed lately? So much stuff wasn't finalized, so I just stepped in to help. Don't be mad at me, okay? I just didn't want you to be overwhelmed."
I didn't reply.
Julian didn't message me privately to check on me, either.
He only posted in the group chat:
[Eve, Chloe worked hard to get all this done. Don't be ungrateful.]
I stared at his words for a long time.
Who was really breaking whose heart here?By mid-morning, Chloe FaceTimed me.
When I answered, she was trying on clothes in the master bedroom of the new house.
Her dresses were piled on the bed, her jackets hanging in the closet.
My bridal storage boxes had been shoved into a dark corner.
She panned the camera around. "Eve, I stayed over last night, and honestly, this mattress is heaven. But the master closet is a bit small. I have so much stuff, so I might need to take a few of your shelves."
My eyes fixed on the vanity behind her.
I had custom-ordered that vanity to the exact dimensions so it could hold the jewelry box Mom passed down to me.
Now, it was cluttered with Chloe's makeup and skincare products.
"Who told you that you could sleep in the master bedroom?" I asked evenly.
Chloe blinked, taken aback.
"Julian said you were busy these days and wouldn't be staying here anyway, so I could test it out for fumes and air quality first."
As if remembering something, she added in a sweet voice:
"Come on, Eve, don't look so serious. I’m doing this for your own good."
*For your own good.*
Those words buzzed in my ears.
My whole life, whenever people took something from me, they loved saying it was for my own good.
When Mom made me give my new dresses to Chloe, she said I was the older sister and old clothes looked fine on me.
*For my own good.*
When Julian gave away the movie tickets he promised me to Chloe because she was sad over a breakup.
*For my own good.*
Now, before I even moved into my marital home, my sister was sleeping in my bed, using my vanity, and filling my closet.
And that was supposed to be *for my own good* too.
I asked quietly, "Chloe, do you honestly believe this is my home?"
She frowned. "Eve, why are you being so weird? Once you and Julian get married, of course it's your home! What's the big deal if I stay for a few days?"
"Then why didn't you stay in the guest room?"
Chloe’s patience finally snapped.
"The guest room is tiny and faces north! I can't sleep well there. Seriously, Eve, are you really doing this? You've always let me have things. Now you're picking a fight over a bedroom?"
I closed my eyes.
So to her, every sacrifice I’d made over the years wasn't love. It was my obligation.
I hung up.
Then I opened my laptop and exported every single bank transfer, appliance receipt, furniture order, and designer chat log.
Total: $112,650.
It wasn't just a cold number.
It was a whole year of buying no new clothes, canceling trips with friends, answering customer service messages about lighting dimensions at two in the morning, and pacing an empty apartment with a tape measure over and over.
I didn't cry. Crying wouldn't cure their favoritism, nor would it stop a man who took my sacrifices for granted day after day.
I was taking back what was mine.
That afternoon, I met with a lawyer.
After reviewing the contracts and transaction records, he asked, "Are you certain you want to call off the engagement?"
"Julian's family is well-off. If they settle, you might get the money back quickly. But you share a lot of mutual friends and family, so they will likely pressure you socially."
"Your sister has physically stayed in the apartment. If she claims she was just temporarily crashing as family, public opinion might not be on your side."
"And your mother..."
He trailed off.
I looked down and gave a dry smile. "My mom will tell me to suck it up."
He reminded me, "You two haven't signed the marriage certificate yet, and your name isn't on the deed. We can reclaim the renovation expenses through transfer memos and an agreement, but the process won't be easy."
"I’m not afraid," I said.
I had been walking the hardest road for years anyway.
When I walked out of the law firm, Julian finally called.
I answered.
His voice sounded weary. "Eve, what has gotten into you these past two days? You're ignoring the group chat and not calling me."
Standing by the curb, I watched the endless stream of cars pass by.
"Julian, do you know what day today is?"
The line went silent.
"What day?"
I let out a quiet breath.
Today was our five-year anniversary.
It was also the day he had promised, a year ago, that we would go pick up our wedding bands together.
I had scheduled the appointment myself.
I had chosen the rings myself.
All he had to do was show up and hold out his finger for sizing.
Yet he had forgotten.
I didn't bother reminding him. I only asked:
"Will you come pick me up for the housewarming party?"
When I asked that, I already had zero expectations.
I just wanted to see if, for the very last time, he would remember on his own that I needed to be picked up.
Julian’s tone softened slightly. "Of course. Stop throwing tantrums. Friends and family will be there, so give me some face, okay?"*Give him some face.*
Hearing those words, everything clicked into place.
He wasn't oblivious to my hurt.
He was just entirely convinced I would never actually leave.
"Okay," I said, and hung up.
The housewarming dinner took place three days later.
That morning, Chloe arrived at the house before me.
She wore a pastel pink dress, her hair curled into soft waves, her makeup flawless.
Mark and his camera crew were already shooting.
Julian’s parents were there, too.
When Julian’s mother saw Chloe, her face lit up with a beaming smile. "Chloe, you look stunning today! Anyone walking in would think you're the lady of the house!"
Chloe didn't blush or correct her. Instead, she twirled with a bright laugh.
"Eleanor, I’m just helping my sister host the guests! You know Eve isn't much of a talker, so I was worried things would get awkward."
Eleanor nodded approvingly. "You're always so thoughtful. Eve is a good girl, just too quiet for her own good."
Standing outside the open door, I listened to every word before pressing the doorbell.
The door opened.
The smart lock didn't recognize me.
Instead, a cold, mechanical voice echoed:
"Unregistered visitor. Please wait for homeowner confirmation."
In that split second, I didn't even feel anger.
I only felt the sheer absurdity of it all.
The rug I bought was right past the threshold. The dishes I handpicked sat on the kitchen counter. The curtains I stayed up late confirming swayed in the breeze. Even the smell of the new furniture had once made me feel so hopeful.
Yet the machine declared in its flat, calm tone: *You do not belong here.*
I heard someone chuckle quietly in the living room before quickly stifling it.
The smile froze on Eleanor's face.
Chloe was holding a platter of freshly cut fruit, her pink dress brushing against the hardwood floors I had chosen, looking like a flower blooming in the wrong garden.
I suddenly understood that the most terrifying part of being hurt wasn't overt malice.
It was that they genuinely saw nothing wrong with what they did.
They stood inside the home I built, using my money, my sweat, and my endless compromises to stage their respectable, glamorous lives.
While I was locked outside.
Everyone in the room turned to look.
Julian’s expression shifted.
Chloe rushed over to open the door. "Eve! You're here! Why didn't you just use the keypad?"
I looked at her. "Because nobody ever gave me the passcode."
The entire room went dead silent.
Julian stepped forward, keeping his voice low. "Eve, don't make a scene today."
I met his eyes.
"I’m standing at the door of the home I spent a year building, treated like an unregistered visitor. And you think *I'm* the one making a scene?"
He frowned. "The system hasn't gotten around to adding your profile yet. I'll have someone set it up right after the party."
"You didn't have time to add me, but you had plenty of time to add her."
I pointed at Chloe.
Chloe’s smile finally cracked. "Eve, do you really have to bring this up today?"
"When should I bring it up?" I countered. "After you move into the master bedroom, take over the study, swap the curtains, change the menu, and have everyone calling you the lady of the house?"
Chloe’s face flushed bright red.
She wasn't someone who played innocent for long.
She had been spoiled her whole life; her indignation and temper flared instantly.
"Don't act like I'm stealing from you! What's wrong with me crashing here for a few days? Julian didn't have a problem with it! Who are you rolling your eyes at?"
Julian’s face darkened. "Eve, come inside and talk."
"Let's talk right here."
I pulled a manila folder from my bag and handed it to him.
I had clutched that folder the entire way here, the corners damp with sweat.
Every page inside was proof that I had once loved him.
"Here are all the invoices and bank transfers for the renovation, appliances, furniture, interior designer fees, and the housewarming deposit. Total: $112,650."
"We haven't signed our marriage license, and my name isn't on the deed."
"Since this house has no place for me, I expect you to pay me back in full, per the legal agreement."
Chapters (4)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Watch & Promotions
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