A Monster Called Love

Chapter 2

Reo was not born into loneliness.

She was raised in it.

From the outside, her life looked like a dream.

A mansion that stretched endlessly.

Marble floors that echoed with silence.

Servants who fulfilled every command before it was spoken.

Everything was perfect.

Everything… except the people who were supposed to live in it.

Her parents’ marriage had never been built on love.

It was a contract.

A decision.

A business arrangement forced by families who cared more about status than happiness.

There was no warmth between them.

No laughter.

No shared moments.

Only distance.

Cold. Measured. Permanent.

Over time, that distance turned into resentment.

And that resentment into hatred.

Until one day, they stopped pretending.

They chose to live separately.

And in their absence—

they left behind a child

who had no one to teach her the difference between right and wrong.

Reo grew up surrounded by people…

but never understood people.

The servants feared her, but they didn’t love her.

To them, she was just a responsibility.

Just another duty.

One day—

a servant forgot that.

She spoke to Reo like she would to any ordinary child.

Harsh. Dismissive. Careless.

Words that carried no respect.

Words that questioned her existence.

Reo didn’t argue.

She didn’t cry.

She didn’t complain.

She simply listened.

And when the woman finished speaking—

Reo picked up the knife beside her and cut her tongue.

There was no anger in her eyes.

No hesitation.

No emotion at all.

Only silence.

By the time anyone realized what had happened—

It was already too late.

After that day—

no one ever spoke to Reo without fear.

But fear is not love.

And Reo never learned the difference.

To her—

love was just another kind of agreement.

A fragile arrangement that could break at any moment.

Until one day—

She found something different.

A small bird.

Injured. Fragile. Barely breathing.

Reo picked it up gently.

For the first time—

her touch was careful.

Soft.

She took care of it.

Fed it.

Protected it.

Stayed awake through the nights

just to make sure it was still alive.

She didn’t understand why—

but she didn’t want it to leave.

Days passed.

The bird slowly healed.

Its wings regained strength.

Its eyes regained life.

And then—

one morning—

it flew.

It spread its wings

and moved toward the open sky.

Freedom.

Reo watched it go.

Something unfamiliar stirred inside her chest.

Something tight.

Something… painful.

And in that moment—

she understood something she had never felt before.

Loss.

Her hand moved.

Almost unconsciously.

And before the bird could disappear into the sky—

Reo reached out.

And ended its flight.

Forever.

Silence returned.

Reo stood there, staring at the still body in her hands.

Her expression didn’t change.

But something inside her had shifted.

If something she loved could leave her—

then it didn’t deserve to exist without her.

From that day onward—

Reo never feared losing anything again.

Because she had learned a truth far darker than loneliness—

If you cannot keep something…

you destroy it before it leaves.

And now—

years later—

Jiya and Suhan stood in her life…

like two fragile wings.

And Reo—

was no longer a child.

Reo didn’t believe in coincidences.

Not when it came to the people she cared about.

That night, after returning from college, she stood by the glass wall of her room, the city lights flickering below her like distant stars.

Her phone rested in her hand.

Her expression was calm.

Too calm.

She dialed a number.

The call connected instantly.

“Find out everything,” Reo said quietly.

“Where Jiya and Suhan were yesterday… and what they were doing.”

A pause.

Then, colder—

“I want every detail.”

She ended the call without waiting for a response.

There it was.

A glimpse of something beneath her composed exterior.

Not anger.

Not jealousy.

Something far more dangerous.

Possession.

On the other side of the city—

Jiya sat in silence.

Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve, her thoughts restless.

Something didn’t feel right.

“I don’t like lying to her,” Jiya said softly.

Suhan leaned back, unconcerned.

“It’s not that serious.”

Jiya looked at him, her brows slightly drawn.

“She deserves to know, Suhan. Your grandfather was sick… we were with him yesterday. What’s wrong with telling her that?”

Suhan sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“Jiya… we don’t have to tell her everything.”

His tone sharpened slightly.

“We have our own lives too. Not everything revolves around Reo.”

Jiya hesitated.

She knew he wasn’t wrong.

But something still felt… off.

“And what about us?” she asked quietly.

“Our relationship… Don't you think we should tell her?”

Suhan let out a short laugh.

“Tell her? Jiya, the whole college already knows.”

“But we didn’t tell her,” Jiya insisted.

“That’s different.”

For a moment, silence settled between them.

Then Suhan’s expression shifted—thoughtful now.

Almost calculating.

“You know what…” he said slowly,

“I’m actually starting to feel a little bad for her.”

Jiya looked at him.

“We’ve been so busy with each other… we barely spend time with Reo anymore.”

He paused.

Then added—

“Maybe we should set her up with someone.”

Jiya blinked.

“What?”

“A blind date,” Suhan said casually.

“I have a friend… he’s interested in her.”

Jiya stared at him, unsure.

“And… that’s your solution?”

Suhan shrugged.

“It’s not a bad idea.”

A faint smile appeared on his lips.

“She won’t feel alone anymore… and we’ll finally get some personal space.”

Jiya didn’t respond immediately.

Something about it didn’t sit right.

Because what Suhan saw as a solution—

felt, to her—

like the beginning of something they didn’t fully understand.

And somewhere else—

Reo stood in silence,

waiting for the truth to come to her.

Unaware—

that the truth she was about to receive…

would not just hurt her.

It would change her.

Reo never waited long for answers.

By evening, they came.

“They went to the hospital right after college,” the voice of the man who worked for Reo.

“Suhan’s grandfather is admitted. Heart attack. They stayed there.”

Silence followed.

Reo stood still, her reflection staring back at her from the glass wall.

My birthday…

And they left.

For someone else.

A slow smile formed on her lips.

Cold. Controlled.

“Prepare the car,” she said softly.

“I want to see… What kind of person is worth more than me.”

That night—

9:00 PM.

The hospital corridors were quiet, washed in pale light.

Visitors weren’t allowed at this hour.

But rules had never applied to Reo.

The staff recognized her immediately.

No questions.

No resistance.

She walked straight to the room.

Inside, an old man lay resting, machines humming softly beside him.

Suhan’s grandfather.

The sound of her heels broke the silence.

His eyes slowly opened.

Confusion crossed his face.

“Who… are you?” he asked weakly.

“And how did you come here?”

Reo smiled.

Polite. Gentle.

Perfect.

“Hello, Grandpa,” she said softly.

“I’m Suhan’s friend.”

A small pause.

“You must have heard about me.”

The old man frowned slightly, searching his memory.

Then shook his head.

“I’m sorry… I don’t remember.”

For a moment, a flash of pure, cold insult flickered in Reo’s eyes. She had spent millions on his grandson, yet she was a stranger to the family tree.

“Of course,” she murmured.

“Why would they mention me?”

Her smile stretched just a little too far.

“Maybe I’m not that important after all.”

She stepped closer.

“I like people who don’t know me,” she added lightly.

"It makes introductions... more honest.”

“My name is Reo Shikimori.”

“Suhan and Jiya’s best friend.”

A pause.

“And your well-wisher.”

“I don’t understand,” the old man said slowly.

Reo pulled a chair beside him and sat down.

“Then let me explain,” she said.

“With a story.”

“There was a girl.”

“She had everything—

a luxury mansion, a luxury life people dreamed of.”

“But she didn’t have love.”

“Her parents’ marriage was nothing but a deal.”

“No warmth. No care.”

“Just silence.”

“So one day, on her 8th birthday—

they threw her a grand party.”

“Not for her.”

“For business.”

“She didn’t know anyone there.”

“People surrounded her like flies—

drawn to something sweet.”

“She couldn’t breathe.”

“Couldn’t run.”

“Couldn’t escape.”

“So she hid.”

“Under a table.”

….

Silence.

“And then…”

Reo’s voice softened.

“Two shadows appeared.”

“A girl… smiling like everything would be okay.”

“A boy… standing there like no one could hurt her.”

“For the first time—

she felt safe.”

“So she chose them.”

“Her friends.”

“Her family.”

“She left everything for them.”

“Changed her school.”

“Changed her life.”

“And for them…”

Reo’s eyes slowly darkened.

“She did everything.”

“The girl wanted success—

so she didn’t wait for opportunities…”

A faint smile appeared.

“She created them.”

"Offices that ignored her... learned to listen to her."

“Recommendations were arranged.”

“Deals were made.”

“And when deals failed…”

Her voice dropped.

“Pressure followed.”

“She moved money no one could trace.”

“She made calls no one could question.”

“All so that one girl—

would always be chosen.”

A pause.

“And the boy…”

Her head tilted slightly.

“He wanted to win.”

“So she made sure…”

“…he never lost.”

“Competitions were decided early.”

“Judges were influenced.”

“Selections… adjusted.”

“And sometimes…”

Her voice turned thoughtful.

“…money wasn’t enough.”

“There was a boy once.”

“Better than him.”

“He didn’t talk. Didn’t care.”

“And the most amusing part?”

A quiet laugh.

“He didn’t want money.”

“So I learned every secret he owned.”

“His habits. His routine.”

“I didn’t break him.”

“I erased his path.”

“His path was blocked.”

“His coach disappeared.”

“His chances… faded.”

“And when that wasn’t enough—”

“Rumors began.”

“Doubts grew.”

“Nothing direct.”

“Nothing provable.”

“But enough…”

“…to make him disappear.”

Silence filled the room.

“So you see…”

Reo leaned slightly forward.

“Not everyone can be bought.”

A faint smile.

“But everyone…”

“…can be removed.”

The machines beeped steadily.

beep... beep... beep…

“And then…”

Her voice softened again.

“On her 20th birthday…”

“She made a simple plan.”

“Just the three of them.”

“A mountain.”

“A quiet night.”

“A cake under the stars.”

“She waited.”

“In the rain.”

“Alone.”

Her fingers tightened slightly.

“And the next morning…”

She smiled again.

“They said sorry.”

Reo’s eyes locked onto the old man’s.

“So tell me, grandpa…”

Her voice was calm.

Terrifyingly calm.

“What should that girl do…”

“…to those friends?”

The room fell silent.

Only the sound of the heartbeat monitor remained.

And in that moment—

it became clear.

Reo wasn’t asking for advice.

She was deciding.

And whatever she chose next…

would not be kind.

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