Ch. My previous life 7 My previous life 7

When I brought home a curly-haired stray puppy, Shawn wouldn’t let the housekeeper open the door for me.

“It’s filthy. We don’t welcome things like that in this house.”

So, I sat on the steps outside, clutching the little dog in my arms, all night long.

I was still young back then and thought that was just his nature—incapable of the gentle affection other brothers showed their sisters until Linda came along.

That was when I realized Shawn wasn’t incapable of being affectionate. He simply chose not to show me such affection.

I’d seen him sitting in his car, handing Linda a cup of warm milk while ruffling her hair, saying, “Make sure you eat three proper meals a day. If you ever need money, you know I’ve got you.”

I’d seen her pick up a frail stray cat on a rainy day, with him standing beside her, holding an umbrella and gently asking, “Do you want to keep it?”

Even when Linda got drunk and clung to his shirt, rambling nonsense, he listened patiently, his eyes filled with nothing but tenderness.

In my previous life, I was trapped in a delusion of love.

I kept wondering why my brother didn’t love me, why my fiancé never sided with me.

Given a second chance at life, I finally saw things clearly.

I was my own person.

I didn’t need someone’s love to survive.

…

The birthday banquet didn’t end on a high note after all.