This is it. This is my chance to get Cyrus Sui back at last. He’s ruined the better part of my life, so what’s stopping me from ruining this trip for him? If I’m going to be stuck with him in another country either way, I might as well get something out of it. Take karma into my own hands.

He won’t even know what hit him.

“Fine, you’re right,” I tell Oliver. In my peripheral vision, Cyrus’s eyes widen a fraction, and I feel a rush of vindictive glee. Let him squirm. Let him suffer. “We did. He was so desperately, pathetically in love with me that I felt bad. It was only meant to be, like, a one-week thing, but then I broke his heart. I don’t think he’s gotten over me yet, sadly.” I pat Cyrus’s arm as if to comfort him, and feel his muscles bunch under my fingers.

“Damn.” Oliver whistles. “That’s commitment.”

Cyrus appears to have been rendered quite speechless.

This is only the start of it, I promise inside my head. By the end, you’ll regret everything you’ve ever done to me.

“Don’t worry, bro,” Oliver says, punching Cyrus’s other arm. “There are other girls here. We’ll have you forgetting about—Leah, right?” He looks to me for confirmation.

I beam. “Yeah.”

“We’ll have you moving on from her in no time,” he says with a wink.

“Who said I wanted to?” Cyrus says flatly.

“Oh.” Oliver blinks. “Uh, I mean, feel free to mope around to your heart’s content if that’s what you prefer …”

“I will, thanks,” Cyrus says in the same flat, hostile tone designed to end any conversation. And it works. Oliver turns away from us, and Cyrus steps closer into the space, his voice too quiet for anybody else to overhear. “What exactly was that?”

I already have my answer prepared. “It doesn’t feel great to have someone lie about something that didn’t happen, does it?”

It takes only a split second for him to understand what I’m referring to. The color in his cheeks spreads down to his neck. His jaw flexes. “About that. I …”

“Okay, is everybody here?” the man holding the flag calls out. He retrieves a wrinkled sheet from one of the dozens of tiny pockets in his jacket and flattens it roughly. Holds it up at arm’s length to read over it. “I’m Wang Laoshi, your guide and main supervisor for this trip. Shout out when you hear your name. Otherwise, no more talking, please.”

Cyrus presses his lips together as the rustle of activity around us subsides and Wang Laoshi goes down the list, name by name.