Chapter 5: Sugar, Frosting, and Farewells

Everyone was shocked. The elders of the Carter family laughed with delight. My father’s gaze finally fell on me.

He smiled, for the first time in ages, and I felt a flicker of hope—maybe now he’d be proud of me.

Behind the façade of wealth, our finances were already rotten and broken. My family, aside from keeping up appearances, was deeply in debt. My father needed a large infusion of cash.

I’d overheard late-night arguments, the sound of bills being slammed on the kitchen table, the worry lines etched deep in my mother’s face.

After that, my mother’s favorite phrase changed. She dressed me up beautifully and sent me to the Carter house, telling me, “Lauren, be good, you have to please Evan, understand? Listen to him.”

She’d smooth my hair, pinch my cheeks, and send me off with a smile that never reached her eyes. I became her project, her ticket out.

My father finally paid attention to me. Whenever he discussed business with Evan’s father, he would bring me along, always starting with, “Evan really likes Lauren. The two kids are so fated…”

I’d sit quietly, hands folded in my lap, listening to the adults talk about me like I was a chess piece they could move at will.

I felt like I wasn’t a person, but a lapdog.

A lapdog that needed to please others.

It’s funny, in a tragic way, how easy it is to become what people expect of you.

After that, every day of my childhood was suffocating and fearful.

Every morning, I’d wake up with a tightness in my chest, wondering if today would be the day I lost everything.

Suffocating because everyone around me told me to please Evan, and fearful that one day Evan would lose interest and I would lose my value.

There were nights I lay awake, listening to the wind rattle the windows, terrified that I’d be cast aside like an old toy.

Evan asked me why I worked so hard at studying. Maybe I hoped that one day, studying could change my fate too.

I clung to the hope that if I was smart enough, good enough, I could break free.

I wanted to escape everyone and everything around me. I wanted to spread my wings like the eagles I saw soaring above the cornfields—one day, to live for myself.

Sometimes I’d stare at the sky, watching the birds wheel overhead, and wonder what it would feel like to just go—anywhere but here.

Though it seemed impossible, what if?

That tiny spark of hope kept me going, even when the world felt impossibly heavy.

But I couldn’t say this to Evan. I just smiled at him when he asked, “I like studying.”

He looked at me like I was speaking a foreign language, but let it go.

He asked lazily, “So which class are you going to join? Class A is just a bunch of bookworms—so boring. Why not be in my class? I’ll talk to Mr. Thompson.”

Mr. Thompson was the school principal.

The kind of man who wore bow ties and remembered everyone’s name, drove a battered Ford Taurus, and rooted for the Bears every Sunday. He liked Evan, and Evan knew it.

I lowered my lashes and, for the first time, contradicted him—though still in a tone seeking his approval: “But you know, I like quiet.”

My voice was soft, almost apologetic. Old habits die hard.

Evan paused in playing with my hair, and after a long time said, “Alright then. But remember, Lauren, my not forcing you is a favor to you, understand?”

His words stung, but I just nodded, grateful for the small freedom.

I didn’t reply. I’d gotten used to keeping quiet, blending in, letting Evan fill the silence. He was used to it, so he said nothing more.

The silence between us was familiar, almost comforting in its own way.

3

The first time Mason and I interacted was by accident.