Seven years after our divorce, I saw Gaylen Thorne again at a nightclub. He was lounging on a sofa, casually scanning the women, looking for entertainment. The manager scurried over after the third group of stunning, curvaceous women were dismissed from the room. “Mr. Thorne, this batch of dancers… they’re the closest resemblance to your wife yet…” Gaylen smashed a liquor bottle on the floor before the manager could finish his sentence. As I walked past him, he suddenly froze. “Is that you?” I lifted my head, brushing a strand of hair aside to reveal half of my face, marred by burn scars, and gave him a faint smile. “Mr. Thorne, long time no see.” The air hung silent for a few seconds, as if time itself had paused. Gaylen stumbled towards me. His hands trembling, he cautiously spoke. “You’re alive?” His face was a mixture of disbelief and the profound joy of a lost treasure found. “All these years, why didn’t you contact me?” “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you…?” I didn’t respond, a flicker of bewilderment in my eyes. He was the one who practically wanted to banish me to the ends of the earth, to never see me again. And now, *he’s* the one claiming he’s been searching for me all this time. “Are you still mad at me?” His voice, raw and strained, suddenly broke the silence. His gaze fell on the scars on my face, a hint of anguish in his tone. “So mad that you’d rather work in a place like this than come to me, is that it?” I paused, surprised. Then I realized Gaylen had misunderstood. It was my birthday today, and I was simply celebrating at a venue I owned. But I couldn’t be bothered to explain. Hate was too much of a luxury for Gaylen Thorne. He didn’t deserve it. Gaylen seemed to suddenly realize something. He began to stammer, flustered and anxious. “I don’t usually come to places like this. It’s just… I remembered it was your birthday today, and I just… I missed you so much that I…” I watched Gaylen, a mocking smile playing on my lips. A murderer who had killed my parents and crushed the bones in my hand, was actually saying… he missed me? “Mr. Thorne, you’re crossing a line.” As if he hadn’t expected such a calm response, Gaylen’s face flickered with disappointment, regret, and a touch of sadness. He was about to say more when his phone suddenly rang. “Where are you? You haven’t been home in almost a month!” “I know what day it is today, did you go to—” My brow furrowed. Fragmented memories, laced with intense emotions, flooded my mind. I couldn’t help but let out a cynical scoff. Instantly, the female voice on the phone grew sharper. “Who is that? Who are you with right now?” The call was abruptly cut. Gaylen’s face was etched with impatience. He took a few deep breaths, trying to appear gentle and harmless, before looking at me again. He handed me a black card. “If you’re short on cash, take this card.” “After all, you’re… the former darling. You shouldn’t have to do this kind of work.” The darling. I hadn’t heard that title in so long, it made me falter for a second. But Gaylen Thorne’s condescending tone made my stomach churn even more. After all, he was the architect of all my nightmares. Why bother with this act of false sympathy? I pushed the black card back, said nothing, and turned to leave. But Gaylen insisted on following, babbling endlessly about how hard it had been to find me over the years. He talked about our old memories. Annoyance flared within me, and I finally couldn’t help but interrupt. “Mr. Thorne, I’m married. Please stop bothering me.” The biting cold wind prompted me to pull my coat tighter. Before Gaylen could fully grasp my words, I walked away, my boots crunching on the thick snow.
Half an hour later, I arrived at my childhood home. I was there to retrieve my parents’ belongings. I had thought that time had mellowed the raw edges of my emotions, but looking at the familiar furnishings in the house, my eyes still welled up with tears. Every birthday, my mom and dad would prepare a three-tiered cake for me. Dad would hold me close, his light stubble tickling my cheek. Mom would stand by, laughing and playfully scolding him for being silly. But now, the people in those cherished memories were just small, black and white photographs. I traced my parents’ photo, lost in thought for a long time, until the doorbell rang. Gaylen Thorne stood before me, a hint of apprehension in his eyes. Behind him stood Stella Vance, whom I hadn’t seen in seven years. “I knew you’d come back here on your birthday.” “Honestly, you don’t have to lie to me about being married.” “We grew up together, Alice. No matter what, I truly wish for your happiness.” Before I could even speak, Stella’s eyes already began to redden. She clasped my hand, her voice choked with tears. “Yes, he told me everything. You’ve had a really hard time these past few years, and you even became a hostess, didn’t you?” “Don’t degrade yourself like this. If you’re in trouble, just tell me!” “We’re sisters, after all. I’ve forgiven you for what happened back then!” Forgiven? I found it utterly ridiculous. I gave a faint, cynical tug at the corner of my mouth, then sat on the sofa and spoke calmly. “Seven years. I’m beyond caring about who was right or wrong.” “Gaylen Thorne, Stella Vance, if you’re just here to spout nonsense, please leave.” Stella’s sobs froze, and for a moment, the atmosphere was thick with tension. Gaylen looked at me, then broke the silence. “Go get her a coffee first, her favorite, with just a touch of sweetness.” His familiar, casual tone made me momentarily stunned. My thoughts drifted back more than twenty years. Back then, Gaylen and I grew up together, and we were engaged from a young age. When the Thorne family went bankrupt, his father was sentenced to life, and his mother driven to suicide. It was *my* father who, despite immense pressure, took Gaylen in. And it was my mother who held him close when others looked down on him, telling him he wasn’t an unwanted child. I remember little Gaylen, his eyes red and swollen from crying, stammered a promise: he’d make me the happiest girl in the world when we grew up. I believed him. And at first, he truly was wonderful.
He’d wait for hours in line for that limited-edition pastry I loved; he’d shield me fiercely during an earthquake; he’d remember every single one of my preferences, always surprising me with something new. I once believed that meeting Gaylen Thorne was the greatest fortune of my life. Then, I met Stella Vance. At the time, I was a piano prodigy who had won countless competitions. Stella, on the other hand, was a girl from a poor background, but with the same dream of playing piano. She pleaded with me, tears welling in her eyes, saying she also wanted to play the piano. So I took pity on her, brought her home, and my parents adopted her as their goddaughter. From then on, she became the Alice family’s second daughter. Unlike my outgoing nature, Stella always appeared delicate and vulnerable. She was often ostracized by our peers, and every time, Gaylen and I would stand up for her. I’d stand defiantly, one foot propped on a locker, declaring Stella my honorary sister. Anyone who dared to mess with her was messing with *me*. Gaylen would stand behind us, a helpless look on his face, always ready to pull us away if things got too wild. For countless afternoons in the piano room, it was always the three of us. I’d chatter on, explaining sheet music to Stella, while Gaylen watched with a gentle smile. Then, just as my throat went dry from talking, he’d perfectly time bringing me my coffee, with just a touch of sweetness. Until the eve of my big competition, when Gaylen and I walked down the aisle, I believed I was the happiest person in the world. But later, I discovered that this so-called happiness was just honey-coated poison. Which is why what happened later left me so utterly hysterical, so unable to let go. A warm cup of coffee was offered to me. Stella’s gaze swept over my plain white shirt. “Alice, it must have been so hard for you to make a living all these years, with your face ruined like that.” “Did you encounter many difficult clients while working as a hostess?” She asked, her words subtly loaded, while seemingly casually showing off her designer brands. “Gaylen bought me so many clothes, I can’t possibly wear them all. Maybe I could give you some?” “Don’t worry, they’re all brand new.” After all these years, Stella had only grown more fond of flaunting her possessions. It was a shame, though, that her taste remained as poor as ever. She couldn’t tell that the clothes I was wearing were custom-designed couture from Ryan Carter. Seeing my silence, Stella’s expression stiffened. She forced another smile and pushed on. “Alice, please stop this. I’ve forgiven you for your past mistakes, and I’m sure Mom and Dad wouldn’t want to see—” “Ah!!” I splashed the coffee directly onto Stella. Gaylen instinctively pulled her behind him. But when his eyes met mine, his composure faltered, and he ultimately said nothing. I let out a cold laugh. My gaze fixed on the man and woman before me. “Gaylen Thorne, Stella Vance, are you two truly clueless about whose fault it was back then?”
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