Chapter 1

HENRY

One day I saw her, and I never imagined how much my life would change after that.

I was just a fourteen-year-old boy who'd been forced to move in with my negligent father, my scheming stepmother, and my spoiled half-brother.

Despite all that, I had a privileged life — a future already mapped out and every foundation for success that money could buy.

But whenever I looked at Camille, I always felt something strange, as if I were missing something I couldn't yet see.

Camille, the maid's daughter. Her mother worked like a slave in our house, pulling overtime and enduring every petty whim of my stepmother and every tantrum from my brother — all to secure a future for her daughter. A future that would never come close to the one waiting for me.

Camille, the girl who hid behind the kitchen cabinets to study. Whenever I caught her, she'd smile at me warmly, even though I'd never once said good morning to her in my life — and even knowing she risked me telling my stepmother, who would surely make her mother beg to let her daughter stay.

Camille, a strange girl. She walked with a limp and wore an orthopedic shoe because one leg was longer than the other. Her spine was crooked, so she had to wear an orthopedic brace too. And as if God didn't think her orthopedic problems were enough, He gave her some dental issue that forced her to wear a ridiculous set of braces, with a tangle of metal jutting out of her mouth.

And as if that weren't enough misfortune, Camille was also nearsighted.

I always wondered why she still smiled despite being cursed with all those problems — problems that could be treated, but the treatments were probably far too expensive for her mother to afford. I looked it up. Yes, that unremarkable girl intrigued me so much that I actually researched whether there was a solution for her condition.

I asked myself why I felt that sense of something missing whenever I looked at her. Shouldn't I have felt grateful when I saw her? Shouldn't I have thought my own family problems were small? That wretched girl had far worse ones.

But... damn it, she smiled. She always smiled.

Camille, that grotesque sight. That skinny redheaded girl who got bullied. That idiot who almost always showed up bruised from falling on her own — or, I suspected, from getting beaten up at school — she was the last thing I saw before I lost my sight.

I was obsessed with her. I wanted to figure out what she had that made her smile. I was always hiding to watch her, and one of those days, when I hid to see her coming home from school, that stupid girl simply tripped and fell in the middle of the road.

I cursed her in my head. I cursed myself for hiding to observe such an unremarkable human being.

"Come on, get up already!" I whispered, impatient.

She tried to get up but kept fumbling and falling again. I don't know if it was because of her orthopedic shoe or her brace — I just know that in that moment she looked as clumsy as a dying animal.

And that's when I saw a truck coming. One of those big ones, you know. Camille was so small and insignificant that I doubted the driver would see her in time to brake.

I hesitated for a moment, but before I knew it, I was running. My mind kept asking me what I was doing, but my body moved against my will.

And that was the day I took the place of that condemned human being. I took Camille's sentence upon myself.

I didn't die, but I became worse off than her. She might have had her mobility issues and needed to wear those things that made her look ugly and awkward, but she wasn't disabled. Me, on the other hand — from that day on, I could no longer see.

I hated you, Camille!

Because of her, my entire future literally vanished from my sight.

Before, I'd thought that when I was older, I'd find a way to take over my father's company — which was mine by right — and go somewhere far away from that hellish family.

But because of Camille, my fate was chained to that place. My negligent father dumped all responsibility for my care onto my stepmother and left it at that. He did nothing to help me. If it weren't for that damn Camille, I might not have even gotten basic care.

Yes, despite having destroyed my life, Camille wouldn't leave me alone. She felt guilty about what happened, and every day she was there in my room.

Even when I drove her away, she was there — begging for forgiveness through tears, bringing me food, trying to help.

Even though we were the same age, I was much bigger than Camille. Still, she pushed herself to help me stand and be my support.

Oh, how I hated that stupid girl. "Why doesn't she just run away from here? Why does she put up with the fits of rage from a boy furious at his own fate? Why?"

I truly hated her at first, but over time she forced me to get used to her. To get used to the sound of her limping footsteps and her quiet voice. She quickly came to know me like no one else did, always sensing what I needed even without us speaking much.

My stepmother didn't care — Camille wasn't on the payroll. The only person smart enough to advise her to leave was her own mother, and many times I overheard the two of them arguing in secret. Her mother begged her to get away from that house and chase her own future, but Camille insisted that without her care, I'd be doomed.

Yes, I would have been doomed without her. I didn't know how to do anything on my own. My world was nothing but darkness — hearing the sound of Camille's voice, the sound of her clumsy footsteps, feeling the touch of her ridiculously delicate, cold hands, and catching her scent when she was close.

She was trapped in my world, and I was trapped in hers.

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