I, Khloe Edwards, received two “ultimatums” from my boyfriend Paul Howell—whom I’d been dating for eight years—on my birthday. First, get rid of the baby in my belly. Second, donate a kidney to Evelyn Scott, the woman he’s infatuated with. I was so furious I nearly lost control, but suddenly a strange voice echoed in my mind. [Detected disappointment level with target subject has reached 90%.] [Would you like to abandon the mission and return to the real world?] A flood of information rushed in, awakening memories I’d buried long ago. It turned out I had transmigrated into this book. Looking at Paul and Evelyn’s sweet Instagram posts on my phone, I gently blew out the candles on my cake and whispered, “When can I leave?” The system replied: [For transmigrators like you, we prioritize expedited processing.] [Approximately 30 days remaining.] I fell silent for a moment, then nodded. “Then let’s go.” On my twenty-sixth birthday, I sat alone amidst the wreckage, eyes swollen and red, face full of despair. For twenty-six years since birth, no matter how terribly Paul treated me, no matter how deeply he disappointed me, as long as he softly called my name, I would forgive him. Because I was a transmigrator, and my purpose in this world was to accompany Paul. He was the entire meaning of my existence. The candlelight died out, and the smoke stung my eyes. An hour ago, I had been waiting expectantly in this carefully decorated birthday room, hoping Paul would propose to me. Half a month ago, I’d accidentally seen a diamond ring in his shopping app. Two months ago, I got pregnant. I waited from evening until nightfall, watching the cream cake melt and lose its shape. Finally, Paul came home, reeking of hospital disinfectant. He paused when he saw the room full of flowers, balloons, and cake, then said wearily, “Sorry, I was with Evelyn at her checkup today. I forgot to buy you a gift.” Evelyn—the woman Paul loved but couldn’t have. Now she was seriously ill with kidney failure. She’d once been a homewrecker for love, even cutting ties with her family, but now the rich guy had dumped her, and Paul accompanied her to all her medical appointments. On my phone was Evelyn’s latest Instagram post. She was reaching toward the moon, wearing that ring on her finger—the same one from Paul’s shopping cart. [Who plucked the moon from the sky and placed it on my finger] I remained silent, clearly dejected, but Paul ignored it as always. He sat across from me, pointing at the photos covering the wall. “Take those down. It wouldn’t look good if Evelyn saw them.” He said Evelyn was now helpless and sick, so he wanted to bring her home to live with us for easier care. My nose tingled with tears as I looked up at him. “In my own home, I hang photos of me and my boyfriend, and I have to consider someone else’s feelings?” Paul frowned, looking exhausted. “Khloe, I’m already tired today! I really don’t have the energy to fight with you.” His exhaustion was for Evelyn, but his bad temper was all for me. He impatiently pushed away the heart-shaped plate I’d carefully prepared. He said, “All you do is mess around with this useless stuff. Can any of this cure Evelyn’s illness?” The plate knocked over the already melting cake, which slowly collapsed like a pile of nauseating fat. He shouted, “What’s so great about cake! Are you really that greedy?” I remembered last week when we were shopping, Evelyn saw me buy two small cakes and pouted pitifully, “They must be so sweet. Too bad I can’t eat them anymore. Paul, taste the sweetness for me.” Paul immediately threw both cakes in the trash, his voice gentle: “When you get better, I’ll buy you a hundred cakes and let you eat until you’re sick of them.” They stood side by side, looking like a perfect match to passersby. I held my plastic fork, feeling superfluous. Facing Paul’s rage, I shed scalding tears: “Today is my birthday. What’s wrong with me eating cake? I didn’t make Evelyn sick—it’s her own fate!” Paul violently flipped the table, splashing soup all over me. I instinctively protected my belly. He said, “Khloe! You’re so vicious!” That was the most piercing thing I heard on my twenty-sixth birthday. That night, Paul didn’t come home. At dawn, Evelyn called, her voice full of feigned concern: “Khloe, did you and Paul fight? He’s at my place, chain-smoking on the balcony.” I knew Paul smoked. After I got pregnant, I’d asked him not to smoke at home, but every time he came back, the smell of cigarettes still clung to him. I thought it was just a hard habit to break, but if he truly cared, would I need to remind him? I said nothing, so Evelyn continued: “Khloe, as Paul’s friend, it really breaks my heart to see him like this. Could you please, for my sake, stop fighting with him? When people are healthy, they’re always greedy for more; only when they’re sick do they realize how precious those ordinary days were…” I cut her off: “Evelyn, you don’t need to call just to disgust me.” I heard the subtle sound of her turning on speakerphone, but I no longer cared. I was like a wild beast trapped in a cage, desperately struggling for something that was never meant to be mine, only to put on a show for others’ entertainment. Sure enough, the phone was snatched away. Paul angrily demanded: “Khloe! You’ve gone too far! Evelyn is sick! Are you deliberately calling to upset her? Do you want her dead?”
Every argument that ended without resolution, tangled together over the years, had turned the red thread between us into a mass of dead knots. Evelyn pleaded through her tears, her voice utterly pitiful: “Paul, I’m someone with no future left. Please don’t fight with Khloe over me anymore! I’m begging you! I don’t want you two arguing because of me! Khloe, it’s all my fault. I’m the one who kept clinging to Paul, asking him to accompany me to the doctor. I apologize to you. I’m sorry!” Chaos erupted on the other end of the line, followed by Evelyn collapsing again. Paul’s roar nearly pierced through the receiver: “Khloe! Are you satisfied now?!” I hung up directly. Twenty-six years old, utterly defeated—what was there to be satisfied about? By dawn, I had nearly finished packing up the house. Only the wall full of memories remained. In the book, Evelyn was a supporting female character abandoned by fate, now heading toward the tragic ending of being kicked out by the male lead. Paul didn’t even qualify as a third male lead. In the story, he was just Evelyn’s college admirer, a minor character mentioned in passing. But I remembered this boy who had always silently protected Evelyn. The book described how Paul was left behind after his parents’ divorce, raised by his elderly grandfather, growing up like roadside weeds—resilient and strong, forever guarding the goddess in his heart. Even when everyone said she deserved her fate, he only remembered the senior who had smiled at him when he first entered college. Paul was supposed to live a lonely life. It was out of pity for him that I chose to cross over here, to keep him company. In narrow alleyways, I followed Paul’s footsteps, accompanying him through his originally solitary childhood in a world the author never described, growing up together. In corners unknown to anyone, Paul and I fell in love. But now the plot had progressed to Evelyn reaping what she sowed, being driven back to the small town, falling ill and seeking out Paul. She had effortlessly destroyed everything I had carefully maintained for twenty-six years. I tore the photos into pieces, one by one. This world never truly belonged to me after all. My stomach churned violently. Oh right, I was pregnant in this world. I had asked the system if I could take the child with me when I left. The system replied: [Everything from the book can only exist briefly in the real world before quickly perishing.] Before I could make a decision, my phone suddenly vibrated. The hospital sent a report—Evelyn and I were a five-point kidney match, highly compatible. When Paul learned of Evelyn’s illness, he had secretly arranged for me to be tested for compatibility. That was the first time he had ever pleaded with me: “Khloe, please. One kidney won’t affect much—you have me anyway, and you don’t need to do any physical labor. But without a kidney, Evelyn will die.” Paul had obviously received the hospital’s notification too. For the first time since our fight two years ago, he actually spoke to me first. Perhaps feeling it was too abrupt to bring it up directly, he rarely asked me: “What are you packing?” I replied calmly: “Packing my things.” He continued on his own: “Right, you always buy all sorts of random stuff. It’s good to organize properly. After the surgery, Evelyn can move in too.” My hand froze, and I threw the item I was holding hard into the box. “What surgery?” I stared into Paul’s eyes, my gaze burning. He avoided my gaze, walked over to take my hand, his tone gentle: “I asked the doctor—it won’t have much impact on your life. Haven’t you always wanted to travel? Once you’ve recovered, I’ll take a long vacation and properly accompany you to relax. How about we travel and get married?” I had harbored feelings for Paul for twenty-six years, and we had been officially together for eight years. After he ruined my birthday, when he wanted me to donate a kidney to Evelyn, he finally proposed to me. I gently took his hand and placed it on my lower abdomen: “Paul, there’s our child here. It’s already two months along. It will grow bigger, be born, and call you daddy!” As if burned by my scorching gaze, Paul’s hand trembled slightly. He had once said the family he most envied was one with loving parents and happy children. During those lonely summer nights, we watched stars on the rooftop, back when we hadn’t yet entered college, when he hadn’t yet met Evelyn. Back then, Paul only had me, who had grown up alongside him. We entered elementary school together on the first day, giving each other courage. In middle school, I was class president, introducing outstanding graduate representative Paul to take the stage. Under everyone’s gaze, our youth shone together. At high school orientation, when I was forced to sing, Paul, who never liked performing, held a guitar and gently accompanied me. At our eighteenth birthday coming-of-age ceremony, on the eve of the oppressive college entrance exams, Paul threw away his speech and spoke clearly to all the teachers and students: “Khloe, we’ve grown up together. For the rest of our lives, we’ll walk together. Thank you for appearing in my barren life.” His kiss then, turning his head toward me, was clean and pure. The warmth of his palm had once been just as warm. We gazed at each other for a long time, tears welling up in both our eyes. He had once truly cared for me. I said: “Paul, you’re touching our child right now. Look into my eyes and tell me—do you really not want us anymore?” His throat moved, as if gripped by an invisible hand. In that moment, he wavered. But the next second, his phone rang, and Evelyn’s broken sobs came through: “Paul, it really is kidney failure. Paul! Save me! I don’t want to die!” That gentle hand instantly turned ice-cold. Paul’s eyes shook violently, like a piece of glass about to shatter. “Khloe, we can have children later.” The system notification immediately sounded in my mind. [System detected: Target’s disappointment value has reached 100%.] [Return condition changed to: death equals return.]
I agreed to donate my kidney. The system told me that to return to the real world, I had to die in this one. Then let me die on the operating table during Evelyn’s kidney transplant. Perhaps I agreed too readily—even Paul felt uneasy about it. These past few days, he’d done something unprecedented: leaving Evelyn alone at the hospital to accompany me through various medical tests. “Are you sure you want to terminate the pregnancy? The baby is developing well,” the doctor frowned, looking completely puzzled. Paul stared at the screen showing the already-formed little life, listening to the amplified heartbeat. As if struck by lightning, he lowered his head. That morning, I overheard him making a secretive phone call by the bathroom door. “Can Evelyn wait a few more months?” “Can’t wait any longer…” Of course she couldn’t wait—after all, the system had told me last night that it couldn’t bear to watch anymore and had taken the liberty of modifying the parameters, accelerating Evelyn’s condition. I told the doctor I was certain about terminating the pregnancy because I was about to donate my kidney. The doctor sighed, “This patient must be incredibly important to you. Many biological parents and siblings wouldn’t make the sacrifice you’re making.” I looked at Paul and replied softly, “I suppose she’s important. She’s a very important friend of my boyfriend’s.” The doctor looked confused: “What kind of friend could be more important than your wife and child?” She asked if we wanted to take a photo as a keepsake. Paul’s hand trembled as he reached for his phone, but I had already stood up. “No need.” My voice was as cold and hard as an operating table. Although the system had blocked the pain, when the instruments entered my abdomen, I still felt an emptiness in my heart. As if even the heart I’d grown in this world had been removed along with everything else. The blood clot lay quietly in the tray. Evelyn walked in carrying a bowl of cold soup, saying casually, “Khloe, two months doesn’t even count as life. Lots of people act like nothing happened afterward, though you’re more delicate than most. Don’t feel guilty about it—think of it as cleaning out bodily waste. Paul hasn’t even quit smoking, so your kid probably wouldn’t have grown up healthy anyway.” I threw the soup all over her, just as Paul walked through the door. Evelyn’s eyes reddened as she said, “It’s okay. It’s normal for Khloe to resent me when she’s upset. I owe her this—whatever she does to me is justified.” Paul instinctively frowned, opened his mouth but said nothing. Only after the soup on Evelyn’s clothes had dried did he speak: “Khloe, are you selling your studio? Someone called me about it. You don’t need to worry about the surgery costs.” A flash of smugness crossed Evelyn’s face: “Right, don’t worry about the surgery costs. Paul says he has enough money. Thanks, Khloe, but I’m not used to owing people. It’s only because of my years-long relationship with Paul that things have come to this point, otherwise I wouldn’t…” I looked up and cut her off: “I’ve known him for twenty-six years. What credentials are you flaunting in front of me?” Paul finally couldn’t hold back: “Evelyn didn’t mean anything by it, Khloe. Don’t be so sensitive. Everyone knows we grew up together. I know you’re worried about the pressure on me, but the studio represents years of your hard work. We’re not at the point where we need to sell it for money.” I said, “Don’t flatter yourself.” I didn’t even glance at them. Selling the studio was to buy two items from the system. One of them was to erase my parents’ memories of me in this world. Before the surgery, Paul unusually offered to accompany me home to see my parents. In this world, my family was the most ordinary yet most precious—loving parents in a harmonious home. They welcomed us warmly, preparing a table full of our favorite dishes. My mother carefully picked out fish meat for me: “Now that you’re pregnant, you need to eat more. Don’t diet. If you don’t want to cook, come home to eat, or I can bring food to you—just don’t keep eating takeout. Don’t worry about the baby. Once it’s born, your father and I will help take care of it. We’re here for you, don’t be afraid.” I held back tears for a long time. Twenty-six years—they were such real parents. My father kept raising his glass, toasting with Paul: “I don’t know what my silly daughter owes you from a past life, but her heart and eyes are full of only you! Your mother and I may be ordinary people without much ability, but we’ve cherished Khloe since she was little. Paul, I’m begging you—please don’t hurt Khloe!” I had only ever spoken well of Paul in front of my parents, so they firmly believed we’d end up together. Paul kept his head down, drinking. His glass seemed to sink into the dust. He said, “Mr. and Mrs. Edwards, don’t worry. I’ll definitely treat Khloe well from now on.” Before entering the operating room, he said solemnly again: “I know I’ve been unfair to you before. Let this surgery be the end of things between Evelyn and me. We’ll be good together from now on.” I pulled my hand from his grip, my voice calm: “Paul, we don’t have a future.” He looked completely stunned as I was wheeled into the operating room. Half an hour later, the doctors cried out in panic: “Why did the patient’s blood pressure suddenly drop? Her heart stopped too!” When I was wheeled out of the operating room, Paul collapsed like a madman. At the same time, in the ward where a doctor was conducting routine checks on Evelyn, he roared: “What kind of joke is this? She doesn’t have any illness at all!”
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