On New Year’s Eve, I received a bouquet of flowers with a card inside: “Wishing Jenna Smith a Happy New Year.” The signature was just a simple letter “J.” With one glance, I recognized that person’s handwriting, and his face came flooding back to mind. Along with our shameful past. My fingers unconsciously tightened around the card. A moment later, I tossed the bouquet into the trash. Jason Crawford—the man who had once nearly walked with me into the halls of matrimony. But ever since my brother died, there’s been nothing between him and me. Seeing me throw the flowers in the trash, my colleague Ms. Lewis guessed who they were from. “Is it him?” I didn’t answer, just kept working on my lesson plan. Ms. Lewis sighed softly when she saw my reaction. “I heard he’s planning to come teach at our school too. You’ll be colleagues eventually. Besides, he was your brother’s best…” “Ms. Lewis.” I cut her off. “In my brother’s short twenty-seven years of life, he never had a friend like that.” Ms. Lewis looked at me. “Jenna, after all these years, do you still hate him?” “Yes.” My answer was crisp and cold. My colleague looked stunned. After a long pause, she shook her head and left. When I left work, I ran into Principal Anderson, who had once been my brother’s and Jason’s teacher. After exchanging brief pleasantries, he suddenly spoke with a complicated tone. “I got a call this afternoon. Jason is coming back.” I hummed in acknowledgment. The principal was silent for a moment, then tried to persuade me: “Your brother was a very forgiving person. If he were still alive, he wouldn’t want to see you two like this.” Like what? Like enemies? I didn’t understand why everyone kept telling me to let the past go. Just because something has already happened, does that mean the victim has to be forced to accept it? Clearly I had the right to stand on moral high ground, yet I kept being held hostage by them. Colleagues. Leadership. Why were they all speaking up for Jason? I didn’t understand, and I didn’t want to understand. On my way home from work, the evening breeze carried a chill that stung my cheeks. I composed my expression and slowly climbed the stairs. When I pushed open the door, my parents and my husband were making dumplings. My three-year-old daughter Lucy sat on the sofa, holding a small piece of dough in her hands, poking at it and having the time of her life. “Mommy!” Lucy spotted me immediately. She dropped the dough and toddled over to me on her little legs. I bent down to pick her up and kissed her soft cheek. She held up the oddly shaped piece of dough in her hand and said sweetly, “Mommy, look! I made a cookie.” I held back tears. “Lucy, that’s amazing!” I took the “cookie” and walked to an empty spot at the dining table, gently setting it down. That was my brother’s place. It had been that way for five years. As if he were still with us. Lucy tugged at my sleeve and asked in confusion, “Mommy, why is Uncle always stuck in that frame?” “Why doesn’t he come out to eat cookies? Why doesn’t he come play with me?” I looked at my brother’s photo not far away. He would forever remain twenty-four years old, in the prime of his life. The air went quiet for a moment. My parents’ movements paused, then resumed as if nothing had happened. My husband squeezed my hand and gave me a reassuring look. I looked at my daughter’s innocent eyes, stroked her hair, and said nothing. I thought, if my brother were still here, he would surely be a good son, a good brother, a good uncle. But there are no “ifs.” Over these five years, I thought I had buried those shameful memories, along with that person, in the deepest corner of my heart. But it turns out that just the slightest disturbance can make those scabbed wounds bleed again.
The next day, as soon as I stepped through the school gates, I ran into Jason. After five years apart, his features hadn’t changed much. He’d just shed his youthful awkwardness and gained a mature sharpness in his expression, his entire presence radiating a cold, unapproachable intensity. Students passing by kept greeting me, but I barely had the capacity to respond. My gaze was fixed on Jason’s face. My chest felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, making it hard to breathe. I couldn’t help thinking: if only it had been him lying in the morgue five years ago, and my brother sitting here today—how much better that would have been. “How have you been these years?” Jason spoke first, his voice devoid of emotion. I didn’t answer. I turned to leave, but he suddenly grabbed my wrist. He frowned, his tone carrying a hint of barely perceptible urgency. “Jenna, I know what happened back then was my fault. But no matter what, I’m not an ungrateful person.” “I’ve never forgotten how good your family was to me all these years. Let’s just let the past be the past, okay?” I whipped my head around and stared into his eyes. Hatred surged up like a tide, forcing my eyes to redden. “Jason, what makes you think everything can just be ‘the past’?” His frown deepened. “Jenna, I know you’re still upset with me, but it’s been so long since it happened…” I cut him off. “But time doesn’t change what happened!” He was left speechless, his Adam’s apple bobbing several times. “I know what Serena and I did back then was wrong to you and your brother.” He looked at me, his tone serious. “That’s why I came back—to apologize to you both in person.” His words were like a fuse, instantly igniting the rage I’d suppressed for five years. I violently shook off his hand, the force of it making him stagger. “You’re not worthy to mention my brother!” I screamed, tears finally spilling over. After saying that, I couldn’t bear to look at him another second and turned away. I’d just entered the office when a figure came rushing in—it was my best friend Sarah Quinn, who’d just returned from an academic exchange abroad. She’d also been one of my brother’s friends. She grabbed my arm, her voice urgent. “When I heard Jason was being transferred back, I rushed home as fast as I could.” She looked at my reddened eyes. “Did you run into him?” I nodded. Sarah rolled up her sleeves, ready to go find him. “That beast! How dare he come back! I’m going to tear him apart today!” I quickly held her back and shook my head. She stopped and looked at my pale face, tears of sympathy streaming down her own cheeks. “If it weren’t for your parents and Nathan’s financial help back then, he might not have even finished college. But what did he do? Turned around and had an affair with your brother’s girlfriend.” “A thankless bastard like him deserves what he gets!” My heart throbbed with dense, piercing pain. Yes, someone like Jason deserves to suffer. Back in college, Jason was my brother’s closest roommate. He came from poverty—his father had died young, and his mother had been bedridden for years. During his sophomore year, his mother passed away, and he couldn’t even afford the funeral expenses. My brother went home and begged our parents for help. My parents were soft-hearted. They not only paid for his mother’s funeral but also regularly helped him with living expenses. Later, he worked desperately at part-time jobs and paid back every cent with interest within a year. He even volunteered to tutor me, and kept it up for two years. Back then, my brother treated him like a real brother. My father treated him like a second son. Our whole family thought we’d taken in a grateful, good kid. But who could have imagined that this person we’d treated as family would ultimately betray both my brother and me in the most disgraceful way possible, tearing our family apart.
The woman who almost became my sister-in-law, but ended up being the homewrecker between Jason and me, was named Serena Sullivan. She was sweet and considerate, and my parents adored her. Back then, Jason and I were close to our wedding date. The invitations were already printed. But every time we got together, I kept catching the way Serena looked at Jason. Her gaze was wrong. Tender and lingering, full of undisguised affection, like she was holding a pool of spring water in her eyes. She never looked at my brother that way. I’d hinted to Jason about it several times, but he always just smiled and ruffled my hair, saying I was overthinking things. “How could I possibly like your brother’s girlfriend? You think I’m that kind of scumbag?” Seeing how straightforward he seemed, I suppressed my unease and temporarily dismissed my doubts. But before long, their behavior became increasingly intimate. Laughing and playing around in front of me became routine. Once, Serena even held up her half-finished cup of coffee to Jason. And he drank it without any hesitation, right from where she’d been drinking. In that moment, my heart sank. Jason and I had a huge fight. My tears fell on the floor, shattering into pieces. “How can you do this? How can you face my brother? How can you face me?” He fell silent, head down, not speaking for a long time. Finally, he looked up, his face calm, and promised me he’d never get too close to Serena again. Over the following days, he did seem to restrain himself and stopped being so close to Serena. But I also keenly noticed that his attitude toward me had visibly cooled. No arguments, no conflicts—just that intimacy and warmth had vanished into thin air. An inexplicable unease began growing in my heart. Three days before the wedding, I went to our new apartment with a newly purchased celadon vase to decorate. I’d carefully selected it to place on the display shelf in the living room. I entered the passcode, turned the handle, and pushed open the door. The scene before me made all the blood in my body instantly freeze. The bedroom door wasn’t closed. On the festive red wedding bed, two figures were tangled together. Disheveled clothes were scattered all over the floor, stabbing at my eyes. The vase in my hand crashed to the floor with a loud clatter. The celadon shattered into pieces, making a piercing sound. The people on the bed were startled. Jason whipped his head around. When he saw me standing in the doorway, his face turned ashen. He practically roared three words at me: “Get out!” I was shaking all over. I didn’t even have the strength to cry. I stumbled out of the apartment. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Serena. Just one short line, like a poisoned knife stabbing straight into my heart. “Sorry, Jenna. Some people, you just can’t hold onto.” Tears poured out. I crouched by the roadside, sobbing my heart out. I couldn’t understand how they could do something so vile. How could they face me? How could they face my brother? Right—I couldn’t let him stay in the dark. I pulled out my phone, my fingertips trembling, wanting to call my brother. But before I could tell him everything, an accident happened. My brother was in a car crash. With a roar, my world completely collapsed.
My brother remained unconscious for a long time after surgery. The doctor said his consciousness was clear, but his injuries were too severe. They told us close family members to talk to him more often. As long as his will to live was strong enough, he might wake up soon. The police said my brother’s accident was caused by speeding. They’d found his phone at the scene. The phone was a bit banged up, but it still worked. I took it and hesitantly entered a few numbers. It unlocked. The passcode was Serena’s birthday. I opened his messages on SnapChat. The most recent message was a voice note from Serena. The date was exactly the day I’d discovered Jason and Serena’s affair. My hand trembling, I clicked on that message. Her obscene moans and Jason’s heavy breathing poured out. I finally couldn’t hold back and rushed to the trash can to vomit. Tears mixed with vomit kept streaming down. So my brother had been provoked by them, which made him speed over, which caused the accident. They had killed my brother. I kept that information hidden. I didn’t even tell my parents. At such a critical time, they couldn’t handle any more shocks. I went to the hospital every day to talk to my brother. I talked about our childhood, about growing up, rambling on endlessly. But whenever I was about to mention Jason and Serena, I would deliberately avoid it and say nothing. A week later, my brother’s fingers moved. Before I could feel any joy, Serena came to see him. Through the glass of the ICU, I saw her standing by my brother’s bed, bending down and saying something. When she saw me, her eyes curved into crescents. “Jenna, you’re here! I was just talking with Nathan for a bit. We even mentioned your wedding with Jason.” “He needs to get better soon so we can all attend your wedding together.” The taunting tone in her words was too obvious. I was shaking with rage. During this time, I hadn’t confronted her about it. That didn’t mean I’d forgotten how she’d betrayed my brother and cheated with my fiancé. And it certainly didn’t mean she could stand by my brother’s hospital bed and gloat. Fury coursed through my entire body. Without caring that this was a hospital, I rushed in and dragged her out. I kicked her hard in the stomach. Serena didn’t even have time to react before I kicked her violently into the corner. Jason arrived at that exact moment. He shoved me hard. My head hit the wall with a dull thud, the pain making it hard to breathe. He shouted at me, “Jenna Smith, what the hell are you doing!” Before I could say anything, Serena on the ground suddenly let out a cry of pain. “Jason, my stomach hurts so much.” “The baby… our baby…” Her words left me completely frozen in place. They already had a child together. Jason glared at me, then gently comforted her. “Don’t be scared.” Then he scooped Serena up and went to find a doctor. I was left standing there alone, unable to snap out of it for a long time. Serena’s baby was fine, but I completely fell apart. I could only force myself to endure the pain and keep everything hidden inside. That day, after I’d sent my parents home, I was walking back to the ICU when I saw a scene that made my eyes burn. Serena was nestled in Jason’s arms, and the two of them were kissing passionately, oblivious to everything around them. They were standing right in front of my brother’s hospital bed, making out shamelessly. Serena’s voice was coy. “When Nathan wakes up, he’ll definitely bless us.” Jason held her tighter and murmured breathlessly, “When he gets better, we’ll tell him.” As soon as he finished speaking, the monitor suddenly let out a piercing, continuous alarm. My brother’s fingers curled sharply, and the previously fluctuating heart monitor flatlined into a cold, straight line. “Doctor! Doctor!” I screamed like a madwoman, my voice shaking. Nurses and doctors rushed in immediately. The room descended into chaos. The sound of the defibrillator rose and fell. The doctor’s urgent commands hammered at my heart. I rushed in and shoved Jason and Serena aside, my eyes red as I roared, “Get out! Both of you get out!” Jason’s face turned pale, then flushed. He wanted to say something but was driven back by the madness in my eyes. He pulled Serena out of the room. I slumped against the wall, watching the busy figures in the resuscitation room, tears flooding out. The monitor kept beeping, each sound striking my heart that was on the verge of collapse. All I could do was pray over and over: Nathan, please hold on. Please don’t let anything happen to you. But God didn’t hear my prayers. He took my brother away. I watched with my own eyes as that tall figure who’d protected me since childhood was wheeled into the crematorium. In just a brief moment, he was burned to a pile of ashes. … Being under the same roof as Jason was ultimately too difficult. I pulled myself back to the present, planning to go home and rest for the day. Suddenly, the elevator stopped on our floor. Jason rushed out and practically ran over to grip my shoulders. His voice trembling, he asked me: “Why is everyone saying your brother is dead?”
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