I was a world-renowned professional angler. After marrying Grant Sterling, the eldest son of the Sterling family, I helped him close dozens of deals by using our shared passion for fishing to build connections, doubling the company’s profits. The day after I found out I was pregnant, I suffered an accidental miscarriage in the middle of the vast ocean. His childhood friend, Summer Hayes, hooked the bit of tissue that had slipped from my body, then gave me a sly, taunting wink: “Quick, cast a line while it’s fresh! I bet the fish out here have never tasted bait like *this* before! You’re not angry, are you, Harper?” I looked at Grant Sterling, pleading for help, but he just chastised me: “You’re just on your period, right? You can single-handedly lift those heavy water coolers, why are you acting so delicate? Next time, remember to bring tampons! You’ve made a mess of my boat!” I begged him to turn back, but a fish bit his line, and he told me to wait. Only after he reeled in the fish did Grant have time for me. “Didn’t you say you had something to tell me today?” The air was silent. “Nonsense. Say it or don’t.” Grant said impatiently. I closed my eyes. Suddenly, I felt like *I* was the one who was wrong.
It was a marlin, its head bristling with long, sharp spikes, weighing about a hundred pounds. Grant and Summer had fought it for almost an hour. Summer excitedly posed with the fish from different angles for photos: “Fishing is so much fun! I’ve decided I’m going to enter the sea angling competition Grant is sponsoring! Grant, you can fish with me, and since Harper isn’t feeling well, she can just drive the boat for us.” “Sounds good. She’s the most familiar with all the trivial stuff like picking out tackle and preparing bait anyway.” I shoved her away like a maniac, desperate to pry open the marlin’s mouth. Summer let out a delicate gasp, her legs buckled, and she almost tumbled into the sea. My two-month-old baby hadn’t even fully formed. That bloody tissue was already torn apart, its shape unrecognizable. “Slap!” A stinging slap landed on my face. Grant held the startled Summer in his arms: “What kind of animalistic behavior is that? Is this how you act as Mrs. Sterling? If you’re done with being my wife, just say so!” I grew up by the sea, the daughter of a fisherman. After marrying Grant, I spent every waking moment learning proper etiquette and bearing, never daring to relax. But thank goodness I wasn’t some fragile, helpless rich girl, otherwise, how could I have endured such pain? Beneath my dark athletic shorts, a horrifying gush of blood streamed down my thighs. By the time the boat docked, it had already dried. Many of the fishing enthusiasts showered Grant and Summer with compliments: “This beautiful lady caught Mr. Sterling’s exclusive lucky fish on her first try! It seems you two really are meant to be!” “If it were just a little bigger, it could break the record of the one in the center of the Sterling Group’s lobby, right?” Summer’s face was flushed crimson from the sun, looking utterly adorable. She tilted her head towards Grant: “How big does it need to be to break the record?” Grant stroked her head. The corners of his lips, usually stern and aloof, curled into a rare, doting smile: “You don’t need to break any records. As long as you want it, we’ll turn *your* fish into a specimen and hang it in the Group’s lobby. How about that?” “Then I’ll really have to try my best!” The marlin specimen displayed in the Sterling Group’s lobby? Grant caught that one under my guidance. It was 3.4 meters long, weighing a massive 450 pounds – three times the size of today’s catch – and it broke the national record for marlin sea fishing. No one has beaten it since. That fish that made him renowned throughout the entire fishing community. That fish that made him see me as his lucky charm. That fish that symbolized the Sterling Group’s unyielding spirit. Somewhere along the way, it had become utterly worthless. Grant went into the boat cabin to pack his fishing gear, his gaze on me filled with disgust: “Wait until Summer and I are far away before you leave. Don’t let anyone see you looking so disgraceful.” “Grant Sterling, let’s get a divorce.” My voice was hoarse. I cupped a handful of seawater, poured it into my insulated bottle, and hugged it tight. Grant froze for a moment, seeing the utter despair in my eyes. Then, he reluctantly softened his tone: “The Sterling Group and the Hayes Corporation have many collaborations ahead. I’m just playing nice with Summer to keep old Mr. Hayes happy, understand? You’re on your period, so just go home and rest. I’m letting today’s incident slide. But tomorrow, when Summer goes fishing, you still need to be there. You’re strong; half a day’s rest is plenty.” “I’m not going back. Tonight, I’m sleeping with the ocean.” He paused for a moment, seemingly unable to comprehend why I had suddenly become so sullen and rebellious. But he still forgave me magnanimously: “Alright, alright, fine. Consider this your sincere devotion to the sea tonight. Just make sure tomorrow you help Summer catch a fish even rarer than that golden moonfish she posted on her Ins, so she can post about it and be happy, okay?” I frowned, but then burst out laughing. My heart didn’t ache as it usually did. That child, as it left my body, took with it the last shred of my illusions about him.
The next day at noon, I bought my own fishing yacht. Before that, I went to the hospital and picked up a pile of vitamins and medication to help with the miscarriage, scattering them loosely on the boat deck. Next to the pills was a registration notice for the sea angling competition. The competition was set to start the day after tomorrow. I had pulled some strings in the fishing community to get a spot. I was sick of being Grant Sterling’s business tool. I needed to return to my own world. Grant and Summer walked up together. Summer innocently asked: “Is this our fishing yacht for today? Harper chose it herself, so it must be good!” Grant glanced at the items on the yacht and chuckled: “I’ve already spoken with the organizers about Summer joining the competition as a sponsor… But since you helped her register, that was thoughtful of you. Let’s go to a nearby shop and pick out some fishing gear for her. You’re the professional; you know best.” I just stared at him, speechless. I pulled out a signed divorce paper from my bag and handed it to him. Grant didn’t take it. Instead, he pulled me aside, and for once, he tried to softly coax me: “You actually like Summer too, don’t you? She’s such a spirited, free-spirited girl. When I look at her, it’s like seeing a younger you. If we had a child, they’d probably be just like her.” My heart ached for a second. Treat her like a child? He must be treating me like an utter fool. Summer was only three years younger than me. I pulled away from him: “We’re getting a divorce. There won’t be any children.” Grant’s face hardened: “Harper, don’t be so ungrateful!” I scoffed and walked directly toward the tackle shop. I needed to buy a new set of gear for my competition the day after tomorrow. Grant wrapped an arm around Summer’s waist, leaving me behind. The tackle shop was run by a local fishing association, with a wall covered in medals and trophies from its members. I had a wall like that in my own room, but it was all mine. Grant and Summer whispered to each other, pointing at the trophies. They exchanged knowing glances and shared a quiet laugh, just like a couple of young lovers. Suddenly, Summer walked over, frowning as she looked at the fishing gear I had carefully selected: “This rod isn’t good. I don’t like blue. And this lure is so ugly! I need to take pictures for my Ins that day!” Grant coldly ordered me: “Get a lighter set. It’s too heavy for Summer to hold. But not too light either, or the fish will pull it away. No colors other than black. Hurry up; we need to go to dinner soon.” I was baffled. “I’m buying fishing gear for myself. What does that have to do with you two?” “Are you out of your damn mind?” Grant thought I was just throwing a tantrum and laughed, annoyed. My fishing gear was already very complete; buying a whole new set now was indeed unnecessary. But Summer had used my most comfortable set that day, and I found it disgusting. I left the fishing gear with the shop owner. As I stepped out, I received a message from Grant: [We’re already at the restaurant. Here’s the address. Hurry up, don’t delay Summer’s fishing trip this afternoon.]
I still went to that restaurant because I learned that his assistant, Chris, would be there to deliver some documents to Grant. “Mrs. Sterling, is everything alright?” Chris’s hand trembled as he took the divorce papers from me. “I don’t have time to chase him to sign this. You can hold onto it for me,” I said curtly. Suddenly, a pink figure descended from upstairs. It was Summer. She sweetly called out to me: “Harper, you’re finally here? Come quick, that bluefin tuna is waiting for you!” I frowned, then heard a few servers, who had been standing by the door for a long time, whispering: “Didn’t Ms. Hayes say she invited the sea angling champion to our restaurant? Who’s this?” “Ugh, I even prepared my camera for a photo op…” My brow twitched. I had been a sea angling champion five years ago, so of course, no one remembered me. But a bad feeling still rose in my gut. The next second, several chefs walked out, carrying a fresh bluefin tuna. “Harper, I’m worried the restaurant won’t prepare this fish well. Only a professional like you can slice it properly.” I scoffed. This kind of high-end seafood restaurant—if someone catches a rare fish offshore, they’ll buy it for a high price immediately. Their chefs can handle any fish. Summer walked up to me, all pretense of innocence gone from her face. It was replaced by intense mockery and arrogance. She whispered in my ear: “If Grant hadn’t married you, you’d probably be just like the guy who caught this fish – bowing and scraping, just to get it onto someone else’s table after a quick photo, wouldn’t you? I’m giving you a chance to slice it for me. You should really appreciate it.” The servers watched as the fish was taken to the private room, and they started whispering again: “Ugh, what champion? She’s just a fish butcher.” “Probably some champion from a bush-league competition. Ms. Hayes is just being nice by saying that.” I looked at Grant, who stood not far away, watching me with a smirk, as if enjoying a show. I knew he was telling me that without him, I was nothing. My phone vibrated. It was a photo from the movers I’d hired. They cautiously asked me: “Should the things in the trophies… be packed too?” The photo showed a trophy accidentally knocked over, spilling out a sticky, damp mess of used condoms. Every single trophy contained them. My temples throbbed. Grant would never have allowed that when he was with me. It could only be Summer and him. Recalling their snickering at the tackle shop, I sneered. I casually pulled out the small knife I always carried and, with one swift, clean cut, gutted the fish. Its internal organs spilled out onto the floor. Summer screamed, covering her eyes. Grant put his arm around Summer and snapped, “Harper Vance, aren’t you disgusted with yourself?!” He’d once praised the exact same action, calling me free-spirited and charming. Now, his eyes were full of nothing but disgust. “Not as disgusted as you two make me!” Grant froze, seemingly shocked that I dared to talk back. I turned to leave, and my phone immediately buzzed. It was a voice message from Grant. He was truly enraged: [Harper Vance, I didn’t want to tell you, but I only liked you at first because of the suspension bridge effect. You got off easy being Mrs. Sterling for five years; it’s gone to your head!] The suspension bridge effect: It means when you’re in a high-stakes, exciting situation, you mistake your racing heart for actual feelings for the other person. That night, we had fought that marlin for almost seven hours. The fishing yacht had nearly capsized several times. It was certainly stimulating enough. So that’s what he considered our love. But I no longer cared. Seeing that I didn’t reply, he assumed I was intimidated and added: [You scared Summer. I’m ordering you to drive the boat for her during her competition tomorrow, to apologize with your actions! Otherwise, don’t blame me if I actually sign the divorce papers!] I scoffed and replied: [My pleasure.]
The next day, it was the sea angling competition. I arrived at the beach early with my gear, looking for my boat. From a distance, I saw a scattering of white and yellow medicine boxes floating in the water around my fishing yacht. It suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t taken a single one of the pills I got from the hospital. I let out a bitter laugh, then noticed the entire fishing yacht was shaking unnaturally. As I got closer, the sickening sounds of their tryst from inside the cabin drifted into my ears, carried by the waves. I took a deep breath, stepped onto the boat to pick up the remaining medicine boxes, and through the cabin window, I met Grant’s gaze. Grant squinted at me, a taunting smirk on his face, and then deliberately intensified his movements. The fishing yacht rocked even more violently. Fighting back nausea, I left, returned to the tackle shop, and rented a new fishing yacht. Just then, I received another message from him: [This is your punishment. Every time you’re stubborn, I’ll punish you again.] I scoffed, amused, but I had no time for him. The competition was still two hours away, and I had something important to do. I arrived at a small, weathered chapel by the sea. Growing up, before my father went fishing, we always visited a similar shrine to offer prayers. I carried that insulated bottle, knelt, and bowed my head three times, praying that this child’s soul would find peace. The chapel was quiet. A kind-faced attendant wearing simple robes approached me. “Hello, ma’am, would you like to buy a blessed charm?” “Do you have any that bless children?” I asked hesitantly. Just then, Summer’s laughter drifted in from the doorway. She had red marks on her neck and twisted her body, looking innocent, as she walked up to me: “Harper, you really are here! I told Grant you fisher-folk loved to come pray at this chapel, but he didn’t believe me! What are you looking at, Harper? What are these?” The attendant was interrupted and seemed to momentarily forget what I had just asked. He instinctively pulled out two charms: “This one’s for a harmonious marriage, and this one for fertility and a blessed child. Which would you prefer?” I fell silent. Grant’s expression turned playful. He pulled Summer’s hand and walked into the chapel: “If you don’t appreciate your own blessings, no charm in the world will help you.” My brow twitched. I suddenly remembered my insulated bottle was still beside the prayer mat. Sure enough, the next second I heard Grant’s voice: “Harper Vance, are you ditching your crappy insulated bottle?” Then came a jarring clatter. He kicked the bottle aside with his foot. But I’d unscrewed the cap, hoping to receive the chapel’s blessing for the seawater inside. With that kick, the seawater spilled onto the ground, not a single drop remaining. It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. I had planned to go out to sea today and pour the blessed water from the bottle back into the ocean, hoping it would allow the child’s soul to rest. But I hadn’t expected that even this private wish would be denied.
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