Emily's screams tore through the air, unbothered by the strain on her voice, uncaring if she lost it entirely.
She considered herself special, one among thousands, yet convinced her devotion to Charles Adam was unlike any other.
The blistering sun, the suffocating crowd, the relentless pushing and shoving—all of it faded as she fought for a glimpse of the man who had unknowingly changed her life.
She didn't just admire him.
No…
She loved him.
And her love had a story.
It all began five years ago, on the worst day of her life.
She had been sitting in a bus, rushing home to gather her mother's clothes. Not ordinary clothes—funeral clothes.
She had received the call too late.
One minute. Just one more minute, and she could have told her mother she loved her.
Instead, she had collapsed on the cold hospital floor, sobbing uncontrollably, screaming her mother's name as strangers walked past with pitying glances.
Her father hadn't been there.
He never was.
Emily believed her mother had died not just from illness, but from heartbreak—the endless burden of a man who had abandoned them long before.
She had suspected he was seeing someone else. The late nights, the distant stares, the excuses.
But her mother had never spoken about it.
She had spent her entire life protecting Emily from the truth.
And now, she was gone.
Emily might have never learned what her mother suffered—until the day she lay bedridden, too weak to move, when her father brought another woman into their home.
And not just her.
A daughter.
Nicole.
Emily's exact age.
It was the final betrayal.
Hatred surged through her veins as she watched them enter her grandmother's house—the home her mother had cared for, the only place filled with memories of warmth and love.
Now, it felt like a prison.
Her father didn't just bring them to visit.
He wanted them to stay.
"Be good, Emily," he had said, his voice devoid of guilt, devoid of remorse. "Your mother will leave us soon, so consider Claudette your new mother. And Nicole—she'll be a good sister if you give her a chance."
Emily felt sick.
She stared into his eyes, searching for the man who had once loved them, protected them.
He was gone.
All that remained was a stranger.
"You are shameless," Emily spat, voice shaking with fury. "This is Mother's house! If you want to shelter them, do it somewhere else. Buy your own home! How dare you bring them here while Mom is sick? Where is your conscience? Do you even have a heart?"
A crack echoed through the room.
Her father's hand struck her face with brutal force.
Emily staggered.
The pain burned across her cheek, but it was nothing compared to the agony in her chest.
He had never hit her before.
Not once.
And he had done it…
For them.
For Claudette. For Nicole.
Emily's vision blurred, rage choking her lungs.
She had to leave.
She wouldn't stay another second in this cursed house, surrounded by liars, thieves—strangers who dared to take what wasn't theirs.
She turned, ready to run.
"Emily! I am still talking to you!" Her father's voice thundered behind her, but she didn't stop.
She refused to listen.
She refused to turn around.
Then—
"Emily! If you walk away now, how will you afford your mother's medication? You spoiled brat!"
The words sliced through her, sharper than any slap.
Hearing this, Emily quickly halted.
At fifteen, Emily Greyson had already learned what it meant to feel powerless.
Her mother was dying, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
She needed money. A lot of it.
But she was just a student. A minor.
The world didn't care about her desperation.
"Now, have you come to your senses?"
Her father's voice was dripping with mockery, his smirk cruel, his eyes sharp with satisfaction.
He knew.
He knew that Emily's greatest weakness was her mother.
Emily clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, but the pain didn't matter.
Nothing mattered anymore.
"If you want her to live a little longer, you won't give me any problems," her father continued, his tone cutting through her like glass. "Otherwise, don't blame me for being a bad father."
A bad father?
No.
He had stopped being her father a long time ago.
Emily stared at him, searching for even the faintest glimmer of remorse.
She found none.
"But she's your wife!" Her voice cracked under the weight of her grief, hot tears spilling down her cheeks.
Her father merely smirked.
"I don't love her anymore. My love for your mother is long gone."
Emily's breath hitched.
Gone?
Just like that?
"But why? She gave you everything!" She sobbed, begging for an explanation, anything to make sense of the nightmare that was her life. "She took care of us, our family—"
"I'm not happy with her anymore." His tone was so casual, so cruel. "Claudette makes me happy. She gives me things your mother never could."
Emily felt her world shatter.
It wasn't about love.
It was about desire.
Lust.
Selfishness.
Without another glance at his daughter, he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there, broken.
And just like that, Emily knew—
There was no saving him.
Three years passed.
Her mother's suffering finally came to an end.
Gone.
Just like that.
The only thing left was the house her grandmother had passed down.
And the last words her mother had spoken.
"Be strong, Emily. Love, laugh, and shine in your own little way. You are my precious diamond. Be happy even without me."
Happy.
How?
How could she be happy without her mother?
Emily whispered the words into the air as she sat on a bus, her vision blurred by tears.
Her chest felt hollow, like something had been carved out and would never be whole again.
Then…
Screeching tires.
A violent jolt.
"Shit!"
The driver cursed, swerving as another car recklessly cut in front of them.
The bus wobbled, veering dangerously toward a post before slamming to a stop.
The engine failed.
Passengers groaned, stepping off in frustration.
Emily barely noticed.
She dragged herself onto the sidewalk, her feet heavy, as if the sorrow in her chest had seeped into her bones.
Then her phone rang.
Her father.
She answered through her sobs.
But he didn't care.
"Emily, you need to leave the house." His voice was firm, void of emotion. "Claudette said if you stay, she'll leave. I don't have a choice. Pack your things and go."
He hung up.
Just like that.
No hesitation.
No sympathy.
No acknowledgment of her grief.
Her mother had just died.
And now, she had no home.
No family.
No one.
Her father hadn't mourned.
He hadn't cared.
Emily swallowed the lump rising in her throat, but it was useless.
Her tears came faster, harder, her lips trembling as she whispered, "Mom…"
As if the heavens heard her pain, the skies darkened.
The rain came.
Cold, relentless, drenching her as she stood there, unmoving, unfeeling.
She didn't run for shelter.
Didn't care that she was soaked through.
She cried into the storm, her sobs swallowed by the downpour.
She wanted her mother back.
She wanted to wake up from this nightmare.
She wanted…
She didn't know what she wanted anymore.
Emily collapsed onto the sidewalk, knees scraping the pavement, her arms limp by her sides.
She tilted her head upward, eyes locking onto a brightly lit billboard.
A young man stared back.
Perfect. Beautiful. Unbothered by the world.
She let out a bitter laugh.
"What? Are you laughing at me, too?"
Talking to a guy on a billboard.