I Cared For Him Twenty Years, Only For His Love Letters To Belong To Another Girl Chapter 03

I Cared For Him Twenty Years, Only For His Love Letters To Belong To Another Girl Chapter 03

Even though the cross-country pairing didn’t work out, Graham and I grew close fast.

He was the first real friend I’d made outside of Thorne. A normal person, just like me.

We spent our free time studying together in the library. Life was so peaceful that I almost believed I could escape Thorne and live a normal life.

But then, in the quiet of the library, Thorne limped up to me. His eyes were dark and heavy. In front of everyone, he tossed a pair of dirty underwear onto the table in front of me.

“Wash it.”

Whispers erupted around us. I could feel eyes on me—shock, disgust.

My hands trembled as I threw the underwear to the floor and turned back to my study materials.

The underwear was thrown back at me. This time, right at my face.

Vivian stood behind Thorne and spoke up.

“Sorry, Laurel. Thorne said you’ve always been the one to wash his dirty clothes.”

“I tried to help, but he said that kind of chore isn’t something I should be doing.”

The whispers grew loud enough to hear clearly.

“Oh my god, Laurel takes care of all his personal chores?”

“Wait, isn’t Vivian his girlfriend? And Laurel’s the one washing his underwear? Yikes.”

“She’s just after his money. Thorne’s a freak genius who can’t talk to people, so she’s acting like his personal caretaker, hoping she’ll benefit from him someday.”

I was back inside that nightmare from my last life—being pointed at and gossiped about after I’d been thrown out of my own home.

Graham took my hand. “Laurel, let’s go study somewhere else.”

“Yeah.”

But Thorne grabbed me from behind. He stared at my hand intertwined with Graham’s, displeasure written all over his face.

“Why won’t you do it? Do you want to wash his instead?”

Someone nearby let out a snicker. I couldn’t stay there another second.

Graham looked at me with concern. I buried my face in my hands, bitter and defeated.

Maybe in Thorne’s mind, I had never been anything more than a maid. Someone whose entire purpose was to serve him.

And even after being reborn, he still refused to let me go.

Graham tried to comfort me.

“Laurel, Thorne’s not all there. Don’t let him get in your head.”

…

I made up my mind to pull myself together and apply for early admission to the University of Chicago.

Thorne was already set for Northwestern. This time, I wasn’t following him there to be his full-time caretaker.

But when I pushed open the door to the interview room, Thorne was sitting there as a student interviewer, staring at me with that empty expression.

And after I’d finished answering every question from the admissions panel, he offered a single evaluation.

“Laurel Sterling has no talent whatsoever. She’s not suited for this field.”

The next day, that comment had spread through the entire school.

They said, “Laurel Sterling isn’t cut out for academics. But she’s got a real gift for washing underwear.”

People started calling me “Laundry Girl” right to my face.

Thorne’s presence made it impossible for me to escape that nightmare.

Graham didn’t know the full story between us, but he could see how much I was suffering.

“Why don’t you study abroad?”