Chapter 5: The Knife and the Mirror

Avery showed up, caked in makeup and way overdressed for the occasion.

Maybe because she’s always been sickly, she’s thinner than me, so my dress just hung off her.

Noah, stone-faced, delivered the lines I’d written for him: “Why have you lost so much weight lately?”

He wouldn’t even tack on a “honey.”

I nudged him to sound more natural. He touched his ear, glanced at the vase with the hidden camera, and his face grew even darker.

“Too busy—you gave me so many good opportunities, of course I have to work hard!”

After all, Avery was using my name. Noah didn’t hassle her, just loaded her schedule so he could get some peace.

Avery kept screwing up at work, racking up haters for me, but at least she kept my name in the spotlight.

Avery batted her eyes, her voice syrupy sweet: “It’s rare for us both to have a day off, Noah, what do you want to do?”

She looked at Noah with those fawning, calculating eyes—every move straight out of a script.

No wonder Noah saw right through her.

First, Noah’s younger than me—I used to tease him, call him kiddo, never act deferential.

Second, that coy look? Maybe Noah could pull it off, but not me.

With Noah, my eyes always held the most direct, honest desire and affection, but I’d never admit it out loud—always contradicting him.

Avery judged me by herself, thinking someone like me would do anything, be as obedient and submissive as possible, just to stay by Noah’s side.

Avery twisted her waist, sidling closer to Noah, who was perched on the bed.

But suddenly, Noah grabbed Avery by the throat and threw her to the floor.

He turned his back to the vase—I could only see the veins bulging on his arms.

Avery yelped, her face changing instantly, but she forced a smile, crawling to Noah’s feet, showing off her figure.

“Noah, today... do you want to try something different?”

Noah turned, face dark, and picked up the flower-arranging knife by the vase.

Sensing something was wrong, I called his name into the mic: “Noah, Noah?”

He paused at my voice, then gripped the knife tighter, step by step approaching Avery.

Avery’s smile faltered. She nervously scooted back, pressed against the wall like a lamb to the slaughter.

Noah was most likely having an episode.

Ignoring my own pain, I hurried downstairs as fast as I could—only to find Noah had already slashed half of Avery’s face.

The room was eerily silent, as if nothing had happened.

I gently touched my own gauze-wrapped face, and deep down, I understood Noah’s motivation.

Avery had already passed out, but Noah was still choking her, holding the knife to her face.

“Where should the next cut go...”

I stumbled over and hugged Noah’s waist. “Noah, Autumn’s here.”

He threw the knife onto Avery, turned, and bent down, resting his head lightly on my shoulder, breathing heavily. “Autumn...”

I gently patted his back, soothing his manic mood, and quickly called for the doctor.

The doctor gave Noah a sedative, then went to check on Avery.

“Did you stop taking your meds again?”

“I’ve been taking them these days, just not before.”

“When I’m not here, you don’t even take your medicine properly?”

“I messed things up...”

Afraid he’d hurt himself, I held his hand tightly, shook my head, and whispered in his ear: “We worry because we care. Noah, aren’t you always worrying about me too...”

---