Author: Momo Chan

My father, John, announced out of the blue that he was going on a trip with an old army buddy. But then, I found a little note tucked into the travel itinerary. “Little One wants to go to Disney.” I assumed he was talking about me, that he’d somehow included me in the plans. I walked into the kitchen, the itinerary in my hand. “Dad, I’m way too old for Disney. I’m past that age.” His hand jerked, and the spatula clattered into the pan. “Oh, right, honey. Look at me, getting old and forgetful. I just keep remembering how you used to beg to go when you were little.” This time, it was my turn to freeze. When I was little… I had never even heard of Disney. I didn’t call him out on it right then. Instead, I quietly looked up the other ID number on that travel itinerary. It wasn’t his old army friend, Uncle Ben. It was a familiar name. Gloria Hayes. Our neighbor for over a decade, living right next door. A single mother raising a twelve-year-old daughter. I didn’t tell anyone. I just secretly made a copy of the itinerary. 1 The next day, as soon as my dad left, I knocked on Gloria’s door. When Gloria opened it, she was as warm and friendly as ever. “Anna? Come in, come in!” She was wearing a comfortable tracksuit, her hair casually tied back. “My mom asked me to borrow some cold medicine. We’re all out.” I lied. She turned and walked further into the apartment, glancing back at me as she went. “Don’t just stand there, come in and sit down. There’s fruit on the coffee table, help yourself. I’ll find that medicine for you.” I continued my lie, my eyes slowly taking in everything in the room. On the TV stand, there was a row of photos of her daughter, from a newborn portrait to recent professional shots, lined up like a display of extraordinary achievements. On the coffee table was a plate of freshly washed strawberries, each one large and plump. I recognized the variety; they sold for over twenty dollars a pound at the supermarket. My mom had looked at them for a long time last week but ultimately hadn’t brought herself to buy them. My gaze swept across the living room and then stopped at the TV stand. A gold necklace lay there. It was an old-fashioned gold necklace, with a traditional cloud-shaped pendant. The style was at least twenty years old. It looked familiar. I walked over, picked up the necklace, and examined it. Sure enough, beneath the pendant, I saw a small bite mark. It was from when I was a child. I’d been watching a TV show and bit the gold, copying the way they tested it. I’d bitten so hard that I’d left a distinct mark. This necklace was the only piece of jewelry my dad had given my mom as a wedding gift. My mom had kept it for over twenty years. Aside from that bite mark, it was almost as good as new. One year, we were so broke that we barely had food to eat. Someone offered a high price for it, but my mom refused to sell. She said money could be earned again, but sentiment couldn’t be replaced. She had always kept it so carefully, but a few years ago, the necklace disappeared. My mom turned the house upside down, crying and saying she must have lost it. My dad had hugged her, comforting her. “Out with the old, in with the new. I’ll buy you an even better one later.” Footsteps suddenly sounded behind me. I put the necklace back, stepping back to stand by the coffee table. Gloria came out with the medicine, smiling as she handed it to me. “Here, cold medicine. How’s your mom doing lately? I heard her back was bothering her a while ago. Is it better?” “Much better.” I took the medicine, looking at her. Her skin was well-maintained. There were a few fine lines at the corners of her eyes when she smiled. I had seen that face in our apartment complex for over a decade. Each time, we’d exchange polite nods, and occasionally, if we met in the elevator, she’d ask about my mom. “Aunt Gloria.” I spoke suddenly. “Hmm?” “That gold necklace of yours is lovely. Where did you buy it?” She paused, then chuckled. “Oh, this? A friend gave it to me. Why, do you like it? I’ll ask them where they got it and let you know.” “No, that’s alright. I was just curious.” I turned to leave. As the door closed behind me, I heard her say, “Take care, Anna. Come visit again!” I stood outside her door, clutching the cold medicine in my hand. Just then, my mom came back from grocery shopping. Seeing the medicine in my hand, she asked if I was sick. I forced myself to sound calm, my voice low. “Just a bit of a cough. I borrowed some from Aunt Gloria.” My mom didn’t detect anything amiss. Instead, she said warmly, “Aunt Gloria has it tough raising a child by herself. Let’s send her some fruit later.” Looking at the oranges on the dining table, my eyes welled up slightly. I had bought them two days ago, and she hadn’t touched them, saving them for me. She was wearing an old sweater she’d bought years ago, the cuffs a little fuzzy. Her hair was home-dyed, with uneven color near her temples. She had always been like this her whole life, never splurging on herself, always prioritizing my dad and me. When my dad said he wanted to travel, she was happy for days, helping him pack, reminding him to be careful. I suggested she go with him. But she said she didn’t like soaking in hot springs. Lost in my thoughts, my mom walked over and waved a hand in front of my face. “What are you thinking about? Go deliver those oranges.” I looked at her. Her neck was bare. “Mom.” “Did you ever find your gold necklace?” My mom’s hand paused. She looked down at her own neck, unconsciously touching it, then sighed with a smile. “No, not yet. Oh well, maybe it wasn’t meant to be mine.” She smiled, but all I wanted to do was cry. 2 Soon, it was time for their trip. I took annual leave and booked a ticket on the same high-speed train, quietly trailing behind them. When they first boarded, my dad was still pretending not to know Gloria. But the moment the train started moving, he put his arm around her shoulders. I saw the little girl lean forward, as if saying something to my dad. My dad playfully pinched her cheek. The little girl cuddled up to both of them, calling them “Daddy” and “Mommy.” I had suggested many times after starting work that we go on a family trip. But each time, my dad would say he was too busy, or he’d use my mom’s frugality as an excuse. I’m twenty-eight years old, and I’ve never once traveled with my parents. I gently lifted my sunglasses and wiped away the tears that had spilled over. I sent a message to a friend. “Can you pull up my dad’s bank statements? As far back as you can, at least fifteen years.” My friend didn’t ask any questions, just replied with “Got it.” After we got off the train, I followed them to the resort. In the parking lot, I saw my dad helping Gloria with her luggage. The little girl skipped excitedly toward the lobby, and my dad quickly called out, “Slow down, Little One.” “Little One.” The nickname my dad had called me for over twenty years was now for someone else. I adjusted my mask and sunglasses and walked into the lobby. They had booked a family suite. Thirty-eight hundred dollars a night. For a week. I gave a self-deprecating smile. I had never stayed in a hotel that expensive myself. But my dad swiped his card without a moment’s hesitation. It was clear this wasn’t their first trip together. I stood behind a pillar a short distance away, clenching my fists. The moment the elevator doors closed, I saw my dad’s hand on Gloria’s waist. A gesture I had never seen him make at home. My dad and mom always walked side by side, never touching. Sometimes, my mom would try to link arms with him, and he’d pull away, saying they were too old for that, it would make people laugh. Now, he clearly wasn’t worried about being laughed at. As soon as I entered the room I’d booked, I received a message from my friend. It was a seventy-plus-page document. I meticulously went through it, line by line. My dad’s payroll account showed a fixed income every month and fixed transfers out. The recipient was my mom’s account. Every transaction seemed perfectly legitimate. Groceries, clothes, supermarket purchases. Even the online shopping records seemed fine. Until I noticed that every month, he had a fixed transaction at a particular supermarket. I circled that transaction and sent it to my friend. “Can you tell me what this transaction is for?” The reply came quickly. “No specific details. It appears to be a transfer.” I thought for a moment, then looked up the owner of the supermarket. Gloria’s brother, David Hayes. I repeated the name several times. Then I suddenly realized why he’d managed to keep it a secret for so long. Besides the obvious hiding in plain sight, he had covered every single track. I continued scrolling down, highlighting all the monthly transfers to the supermarket. I discovered that for the past ten years, my dad had been making these monthly payments to this supermarket. Initially, the amounts were small, a few hundred or a thousand, then three to five thousand. Eventually, it became a fixed transfer of fifteen hundred dollars every month. And the earlier, smaller amounts added up to exactly fifteen hundred a month. I understood. My dad’s payroll went to my mom’s account—that was the legitimate money, clean and clear. But he had other sources of income. Bonuses and side jobs before he retired, then a re-hiring salary after retirement. He never mentioned that money. He channeled all of it, disguised as daily expenses, through Gloria’s brother’s supermarket. At first, he was afraid of being discovered, but later, he didn’t even bother to hide it. Fifteen hundred dollars a month, eighteen thousand a year. One hundred eighty thousand dollars over ten years. Enough to buy Gloria’s daughter many strawberries, many pretty clothes, many Barbie dolls. And the house Gloria was living in now. No wonder she never had to work. Yet she had a membership at the beauty salon downstairs and could afford to send her daughter to the best middle school. It was all my father providing for them.

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I just got back from the hospital. I hadn’t even sat down yet when my wife, Evelyn, started rattling off a to-do list. “Why are you just standing there? Go mop the floor, it’s sticky after days of neglect!” “And the shoe rack, it’s covered in dust!” “Oh, and don’t forget to scrub the toilet. No one’s done it since you were hospitalized!” She didn’t ask if my arm still hurt. She didn’t ask if I was still dizzy. I didn’t move. I stood in the entryway, my arms crossed, surveying the absurd scene. Before, I was the undisputed backbone of this family, tirelessly earning money and handling all the household chores. But this recent accident caused me to lose my memory. My mind had reverted to my carefree single days. Faced with my unfamiliar wife’s bossy demands, my ungrateful son’s disrespect, and my materialistic mother-in-law’s constant meddling, I decided I was done. … “Mark, did you hear me?” Evelyn’s brows furrowed when I remained still. I took off my jacket, hung it on the rack, then leaned back on the sofa, hands clasped behind my head. “I heard you, but I’m not doing it. I just got back from the hospital; I deserve at least a few days to rest!” “Besides, I’ve been in the hospital these past few days. The grime on the floor, the dust on the shoe rack, the stains in the toilet — none of that has anything to do with me. Whoever made the mess can clean it!” The living room fell into an eerie silence. Evelyn’s face flushed crimson at a visible rate. She puffed out her cheeks in anger. “Mark, say that again?” I wasn’t intimidated. I merely glanced at her. “What, do you need me to write it down? Or perhaps we can create a family chat group, and I’ll post it there, tagging everyone.” “You—” Evelyn stormed over to me, her finger practically jabbing my nose. “You dare to speak to me like that? Fine, absolutely fine. Your allowance for this month is gone, not a single penny!” “Whatever!” I walked past her, heading straight for the study. At twenty-five, I earned twelve thousand dollars a month and spent my money as I pleased. At thirty-five, I needed to ask my wife for an allowance. This world truly has a sense of humor. “Mark, you stop right there!” I closed the door, ignoring the screams behind me. The guest room desk was piled with documents: mortgage statements, car loan details, my son’s tutoring fees, and so on. On top was a calendar. Yesterday’s date was circled in red, with a note beside it: “Tenth Wedding Anniversary.” I picked up a pen and drew a large ‘X’ through the red circle. The next morning, at six-thirty, just as dawn was breaking. The study door was knocked on—no, pounded on. “Mark, what time is it? Aren’t you getting up for work?!” My mother-in-law’s voice boomed from outside the door. I yawned as I opened the door, a nagging thought in my head. “Has the sun risen in the west? My mother-in-law is actually calling me to get up early out of kindness.” In the living room, my mother-in-law was already fully dressed. A dark green embroidered dress, pearl earrings that dazzled the eye, and a face thickly powdered as if whitewashed. “What are you dawdling for? Hurry up, you’ll be late!” She clutched her small handbag, impatiently urging me on. Ten minutes later, I was showered and ready, heading to the underground parking garage for my car. As soon as I settled into the driver’s seat, the passenger door clicked open, and a heavy scent of perfume wafted in. My mother-in-law had already efficiently buckled her seatbelt. “First, take me to East Lake Park. Aunt Sharon and her friends brought their new sound system today, and I need to get there early to claim a spot.” It was only then that I realized why she’d woken me up so early. I gripped the steering wheel, turning my head to her in exasperation. “I’m going to work. The park is in the opposite direction.” “I know. Don’t you always drop me off before you go to work?” My mother-in-law applied lipstick in the sun visor mirror, her tone utterly matter-of-fact. Getting up early for work and then having to be my mother-in-law’s chauffeur? The thirty-five-year-old me actually tolerated this? I scoffed inwardly, but on the surface, I remained calm. “Could you please get out for a moment? I’ll adjust the passenger seat for you; it’ll be more comfortable.” As I spoke, I unbuckled her seatbelt. My mother-in-law paused, grumbling, “Always making a fuss,” but she still got out of the car. The moment her feet touched the ground outside the car door, I slammed it shut. I turned the key, and the engine rumbled to life. “Hey! What are you doing—” My mother-in-law realized something was wrong and frantically pounded on the car window. I pressed the accelerator, driving away. Leaving my furious mother-in-law behind. At six in the evening, I got home from work. I had just set down my briefcase and sat on the sofa, hoping to catch my breath. “Bang!” A heavy backpack practically grazed my nose before slamming onto the coffee table. The glass top shook, groaning under the impact. I looked up to see my son, Chris, standing in front of me, one hand in his pocket, the other outstretched. “Old Man, give me money.” His tone was rude and arrogant. I narrowed my eyes, masking the anger within, and forced a smile. “How much do you want? What for?” Chris’s voice was loud and self-righteous. “Five hundred bucks! Ben in my class has this super-cool transforming robot, it’s awesome, and I want it too, the golden collector’s edition!” “Don’t you have enough toys at home? You already have transforming robots. You’ve barely played with that new ‘Bumblebee’ I bought you, have you?” “That’s outdated!” His voice suddenly escalated, with the sharp edge unique to children. “Are you going to give it to me or not? If not, fine, I’ll go ask Mom and Grandma!” He started to turn, as if certain I would give in, or at least call him back to bargain. “Stop right there,” I said loudly. He froze, turning half his face toward me, a hint of a triumphant smirk on his lips. “I’ll say it again: no.” My voice turned cold, with an unmistakable finality. “First, you don’t have a valid reason for that five hundred dollars. Second, even if you did, you should earn it by showing good behavior, not just demanding it. Third—what did you just call me? ‘Old Man’? Who taught you that?” Chris was stunned. “Why won’t you give it to me?!” He violently kicked over the dining chair next to him. “My classmates have it, but I don’t! Are you trying to embarrass me at school, you cheapskate, you loser!” I looked at the overturned dining chair, then at his angry, distorted young face. He was only eight, yet he had already learned to define self-worth through material comparison and vent frustration by insulting his own family. It seemed I needed to exercise my paternal rights properly. “You little brat, it seems reasoning with you is useless.” I slowly rolled up my shirt sleeves, approaching him. “What are you going to do?” He took half a step back, a flicker of panic in his eyes, but his tone was still defiant. “You wouldn’t dare hit me, would you? I’ll tell Mom! I’ll tell Grandma!” “Go ahead and tell them, but before that—” My movements were faster than I expected. Before he could react, I had already grabbed his wrist, twisted it, and tripped him. He yelped as he lost his balance and was firmly pinned to the floor. “Let go of me, you jerk, let go!” He struggled desperately, his face red and neck bulging, tears and snot streaming down, but more than anything, there was anger and disbelief. I held him down with one knee on his back, controlling my strength to avoid injuring him, but not allowing him to break free. “Listen, I’m not giving you the money. If I hear you curse again, next time I won’t be so polite. Also, if you want something, figure out how to earn it yourself. The world doesn’t owe you anything, and I certainly don’t!” Just then, a shriek rang out. “Let go of my grandson!” The scream almost pierced my eardrums. The front door had opened unnoticed, and my mother-in-law and Evelyn stood there. My mother-in-law rushed forward first, trying like a madwoman to push me away. Evelyn, on the other hand, was pale, her lips trembling, her finger shaking as she pointed at me. “Mark, you… are you even human? What are you doing to our child?” I clapped my hands, stood up, and pulled out a tissue to wipe them. “Didn’t you see? I’m disciplining him.” Chris immediately scrambled behind my mother-in-law, crying even louder, adding fuel to the fire with every sob. “He said he was going to kill me… I just wanted a toy, and he wouldn’t buy it for me, and he hit me…” Evelyn’s chest heaved violently. “Discipline? Is that how you discipline a child? You’re barbaric, brutal! What era are we in? Experts say it should be ‘happy education,’ ‘love and freedom’! Look what you’ve done to the child!” My mother-in-law hugged the sobbing Chris tightly, cooing endearments, while shooting me a venomous, resentful glare. “How dare you! How could you lay a hand on him? What’s wrong with a child wanting a toy? It’s only five hundred bucks! Isn’t a happy childhood more important than anything else? Our Chris is so smart, he just wants a new toy, is that so much to ask?!” “Mark, you’ve disappointed me so much. You’re not like a father at all. Get out, get out now and live somewhere else. I don’t want to see you!” Evelyn’s voice was choked with tears, but mostly filled with hysterical accusations. The living room was filled with women’s curses and the child’s wails. Strangely, as I stood there, my heart was utterly calm. I even felt a slight urge to laugh. “Fine, I couldn’t ask for anything more!” I pulled a suitcase from the wardrobe, casually threw in a few changes of clothes, and left without looking back. Just a few days had been enough to reveal the full picture of this family. My wife, Evelyn, was a classic self-serving individual, viewing my contributions as her rightful due. My son, Chris, a seven-year-old brat, was spoiled rotten; “brat” was practically a compliment. My mother-in-law, with her unique talents, managed to enjoy the convenience of my financial support while simultaneously trampling my dignity with the most cutting remarks. This so-called “family” was essentially an exploitative system disguised as kinship, and I was the core component, forbidden to have my own will. I had only experienced a few days of this, and it already felt utterly absurd. I couldn’t imagine how the “me” of thirty-five had endured this for seven whole years, day after day. Even a Ninja Turtle would feel inferior. I picked up my phone and sent a message to my college friend, Mike. Soon, my phone vibrated. Mike replied, “The room’s ready for you, come over anytime. Plenty of beer.” I replied with three words: “On my way.” At Mike’s place, I woke up naturally every day, went out to find good food after work, played a few games with him in the evenings, and went camping and hiking in the mountains on weekends. Carefree and free, this was what life should be. However, five days later, my peaceful and comfortable life was interrupted. Evelyn called me. This was the first time she had initiated contact since I moved out. I let it ring for over ten seconds before slowly picking up. “Mark! Get to City Hospital Two now!” Her voice was sharp and urgent, the background noisy. “Mom was attacked! She’s in the emergency room!” Despite my reluctance, I rushed to the hospital immediately. In the emergency room, my mother-in-law sat on the hospital bed, sighing dramatically. “Oh, my arm… it hurts… it must be broken…” Evelyn stood beside her, her face ashen, harshly scolding a seemingly honest middle-aged couple. “What’s wrong with you two? How dare you assault an elderly person, my mother? If anything serious happens to her, you’ll spend the rest of your lives in prison.” The man of the couple looked distressed, and the woman tried to explain but was drowned out by Evelyn’s loud voice. I examined my mother-in-law. Although her hair was disheveled and her clothes were dusty, her voice was loud, and she seemed full of vigor. Aside from some redness on the back of her hand, there were no signs of serious injury. The doctor who arrived shortly after confirmed my assessment. “The examination results are in. It’s just a superficial scratch, not even a minor injury.”

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To force me to break off our engagement, my fiancée orchestrated the bankruptcy of my father’s company, leaving him with millions in debt. The shock triggered a heart attack, and my father was rushed to the emergency room. As I knelt, begging my fiancée for help with the surgery costs, my childhood friend, Sarah Grant, suddenly returned from abroad. She arranged for a doctor for my father and stayed by his bedside day and night with me. But a week later, my father suffered another sudden heart attack. To let him depart in peace, Sarah knelt by his hospital bed, vowing to marry me and love me for the rest of her life. After the funeral, heartbroken, I canceled my engagement to my fiancée and married Sarah. But five years later, I accidentally overheard a conversation between my ex-fiancée and her. “Your trick was brilliant, wasn’t it? Making Mark, that leech, willingly give me up. Do you think if he knew that you were the one who caused his father’s death, he’d want to kill you?” … My hand, pushing open the private room door, froze. Inside, my ex-fiancée’s taunting voice continued. “You really are heartless. Mark grew up with you, treated you like his own sister. I bet he’d never in a million years guess that you were the one who ruined his father’s company.” “If it weren’t for Julian, I wouldn’t have taken the blame for you all these years. As much as I dislike Mark, I would never do something that would literally cause someone’s father to die.” A wine glass was set down heavily on the table. Sarah, her voice tinged with drunken anger, retorted, “I’ll spend my entire life making it up to Mark. I helped you back then because I wanted Julian to be happy. If you ever dare to hurt Julian, to make him shed a single tear, I’ll end your life.” The woman across from her chuckled, clicking her tongue in admiration. “Such devotion. Too bad Julian met me first. You should just focus on your Mark, after all, you caused his father’s death. Be careful not to be haunted in your midnight dreams.” A glass “bang” against the door, shattering. Footsteps approached rapidly. I took a deep breath and bolted downstairs to the bar. I grabbed a glass and downed it in one go. I never drank, and the burn brought tears to my eyes. The words I had just heard echoed repeatedly in my mind. The person who caused my dad’s company to go bankrupt wasn’t my ex-fiancée, but Sarah, the woman who had paid for his surgery. And my father’s second heart attack a week later? That was also because of something Sarah said. No wonder my dad stared fixedly at Sarah just before he passed. At the time, I naively thought it was his gratitude and a final entrustment. My wife, who had shared my bed for five years, whom I held in the palm of my hand, was the indirect cause of my father’s death. And these years of marriage, this fabricated love, were merely her supposed “compensation” born of guilt. It was utterly ludicrous. Sorrow and fury surged within me. My gaze fell on the glass in my hand when Sarah suddenly embraced me gently from behind, burying her head in my neck, her voice soft with a touch of drunkenness. “Mark, why did you leave for so long? I missed you so much… Let’s go home. Mark, I love you so much… so, so much…” Over the years, whenever Sarah got drunk, she would mumble her love for me. Her friends always said that drunken words were honest words, and that Sarah truly loved me deeply. But now, all of it seemed exceptionally ridiculous. I subtly pushed her away and helped her into the car. Sarah lay on my lap, her brow unfurrowed, her breathing even, as if asleep. “Julian… Julian… why didn’t you choose me, why…” This time, I finally heard it clearly, the name that appeared countless times in her dreams. Julian. Julian Harlow. The man who stole my ex-fiancée, and Sarah’s true love. So Sarah had never forgotten him. She had even married me and pretended to be loving for his sake. I had underestimated her love for Julian. The phone clattered from the woman’s pocket. I bent down to pick it up, and a message notification popped up on the screen. “Sarah, thank you for helping me with drinks tonight. I can’t accept the necklace you gave me, it’s too precious.” The next second, I saw Julian Harlow’s social media post: “Love is priceless.” The accompanying image was an incredibly dazzling necklace, precisely the unique one in the world that a mysterious rich man had bought for a hundred million dollars, according to the news. I knew Julian Harlow had posted it specifically for me to see. This week, Sarah had been so busy she didn’t have time to eat, which led to a sudden stomach illness and a trip to the emergency room. But the moment she opened her eyes, she flew to England. I was furious and heartbroken then, thinking she was sacrificing her life for work. Only later did I learn she went to an auction. Even if she was in so much pain she couldn’t stand straight, she still went to bid on the world’s most precious necklace, to offer it to her true love. Against my better judgment, I entered the lock screen password. After typing the last digit, it unlocked successfully. It was Julian’s birthday. Sarah never let me look at her phone, saying we needed to give each other personal space. The moment it unlocked, Julian Harlow’s bright, handsome smiling face appeared. No wonder Sarah’s eyes would soften mysteriously every time she unlocked her phone. I tapped on the photo album. It was filled with consistently named folders. “Julian at Ten,” “Julian at Eleven,”… “Julian at Twenty-Five.” Each album documented Julian Harlow’s smiling face at different stages of his life. Among thousands of photos, not a single one was of me, not even of her. Only Julian. Just like her heart, from beginning to end, it only held Julian Harlow. I opened the notepad and found Sarah’s diary. [20XX, Sunny. Julian cut his leg on a branch today. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have planted trees in the yard.] [20XX, Sunny. Julian got married today. As long as he’s happy, anything I do is worth it. I live to make him happy.] [20XX, Rainy. I got married. The moment I saw Julian in the audience, how I wished he was the one standing beside me.] The car pulled into the driveway. Looking up at the bare yard, I felt cold all over. Originally, there were two peach trees in the yard, which Sarah had specifically transplanted from my family’s old estate. My father had planted them for me when I was ten years old. Whenever I saw them, I felt as if my father had never left, that he was still with me. But suddenly one day, the roots of those two trees, once full of peaches, inexplicably rotted. Sarah had held me as I cried for three days and three nights. Now I knew. It was also her who destroyed the only memento my father had left me. Her assistant’s message popped up. “Ms. Grant, as per your instructions, your will has been prepared. All assets will be left to Mr. Julian Harlow. It’s ready to take effect once you sign it.” Through blurry tears, I thought I saw the woman who, at the funeral that year, had held me tenderly and promised, “Mark, I will give you a home. Everything I have belongs to you.” I placed Sarah on the bed, but unlike before, I didn’t take off her shoes or care for her. I turned and went straight to the guest room. Closing my eyes, my mind was filled with the image of her loving me all these years. The morning sun streamed over me. Opening my eyes, I met Sarah’s gentle gaze. She leaned over and lightly kissed my forehead. “Mark, were you angry last night? I’m sorry, I drank a bit too much at dinner. I promise it won’t happen again.” Her tender demeanor was as always. I gently hummed in response, pushed her away, and went into the bathroom, washing away the lingering warmth from my forehead. The table was laden with breakfast. In the past, I would have been overjoyed. But after reading Sarah’s diary, I couldn’t feel happy anymore. This entire spread was Julian Harlow’s favorite. The sound of a key in the lock echoed from the entryway. Julian Harlow walked in, dressed in a sharp, clean suit. He naturally took a seat at the dining table and offered me a slight smile, as if explaining, “Mark, sorry to intrude. Sarah and I have a photoshoot this morning, so she asked me to come for breakfast.” I said nothing, merely looking at the identical key chain in his hand. Sarah, acutely aware of my mood, leaned in and whispered, “Julian is our best friend. It’s normal for him to have a key to our house…” Before she could finish, her tone changed abruptly. She stood up anxiously and snatched the soy milk from Julian’s hand. “Julian, you can’t drink soy milk. After all these years, why can’t you remember?” Julian pursed his lips and smiled, his voice full of amusement: “Yes, it’s a good thing I have you all these years.” They gazed deeply into each other’s eyes, like long-time lovers. I had no interest in watching their affectionate display. As I prepared to leave, Julian called out to me. “Mark, I remember you studied photography. Could you please photograph today’s shoot for me? I don’t trust the new photographer.” Since my father’s death, I had not touched a camera. Whenever I picked one up, I would think of my father, who had taught me photography since childhood. My mind would be filled with his unyielding, vulnerable face as he passed away. I no longer had the courage to press the shutter. Sarah knew this. She had locked all my cameras in a cabinet, telling me not to force myself, that she would help me through it slowly until I was ready to pick up a camera again. But at this moment, before I could speak, she pushed me into the back seat of the car. “Mark, you know Julian gets carsick, so I’m sorry to make you sit in the back.” But she had forgotten that I got even worse carsick. After barely eating any breakfast, my stomach was churning the entire ride. Upon arrival, Sarah carefully straightened Julian’s suit and walked arm-in-arm with him into the studio. I leaned against the car, taking deep breaths of fresh air. “Mark, the shoot is about to start. Be good, don’t be stubborn, and take good pictures. This shoot is very important for Julian and for Grant Industries.” Sarah suddenly pulled me into the studio with force. I lost my footing and almost fell. Picking up a camera again after five years felt strange and terrifying. My hands trembled slightly. I struggled to control the surge of sadness in my heart, pressing the shutter again and again. During a break, only Julian and I were left in the studio. He flipped through the photos, a mocking smile on his lips. “Mark, you really are useless, just like your father. You can’t do anything right. Truly, like father, like son.” My fingernails dug hard into my palms. My body trembled slightly, and I felt my anger about to erupt. “Slap!” A searing pain suddenly flared on my cheek. Julian shook his hand, looking down at me with disdain. “Mark, you are truly shameless. I never thought you’d latch onto Sarah so quickly after your engagement was called off. What makes you think you’re worthy of her? I’m telling you, both your ex-fiancée and Sarah—they’re mine.” “You don’t deserve either of them.”

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1. The moment I was released from prison, waiting for someone to pick me up, I scrolled through a local trending post with a familiar profile picture. [My biological sister stole my foster sister’s jewelry, so I taught her a little lesson by sending her to jail for three years. She’s being released today. It’s the punishment she deserved, so why do I feel this overwhelming guilt?] The comments section exploded in outrage. [This ‘righteous’ act feels a bit… extreme, doesn’t it? For a biological sister? Going to jail can ruin a life forever.] [Clearly, the poster’s heart is completely biased, stretched across the ocean.] [Hard to say. Isn’t the ‘forbidden love with a foster sibling’ trope popular now? The foster sister sheds a few tears, and the brother is just heartbroken.] [To the comment above: he hasn’t replied to you yet, probably because you hit the nail on the head.] However, less than two seconds later, the poster replied with a smiling emoji: [Is stealing such a small thing? My company is a Fortune 500. Do you really think I can’t cover for her?] Soon after, a luxury SUV, a Cullinan, pulled up in front of me. Liam’s eyes were red as he reached out his hand. “Do you finally understand your mistake? Come on, let’s go home.” I simply stepped back, unemotionally, avoiding his hand. I’d found a new brother inside. … My brother, Liam, looked startled that I had avoided him. But his hand didn’t retreat; instead, it swiftly and firmly reached for me again. “Why are you avoiding me, Anya? Did someone bully you inside?” His voice was hoarse, like his throat was stuffed with sponges. I tried to pull my hand away several times without success, so I just said flatly, “No.” He visibly relaxed, tightening his grip on me. “That’s good. I heard online that it’s a terrible place, so it’s good you weren’t bullied…” Watching his relieved expression and his eyes growing redder, I gave a bitter, mocking laugh inside. Brother, weren’t you the one who went to such lengths to put me in there? What good is your concern now? He forced a smile, pulling me towards the car in a placating manner. “Don’t you love a good celebration? I’ve prepared a welcome home feast for you.” “Come on, let’s go home.” I looked back at the prison. Inside, I’d met a new brother, named Julian. He was locked up for a white-collar crime he was falsely accused of, and he wouldn’t be out for another month. We’d already made a pact: in a month, I’d pick him up, and we’d start a new life together. Thinking of Dad’s belongings, which were still at the house, I finally got into the car with Liam. On the way, he half-warned, half-admonished me, stroking my buzzcut. “Anya, you can’t steal anymore. This is your lesson.” I clenched my fingers. For three years, I’d sent countless messages to him through the guards. Telling him I hadn’t stolen anything from Anna, that she’d framed me. But he never believed me. So this time, I wasn’t going to explain again. I just nodded obediently, agreeing with him. “Got it.” He smiled, satisfied, and took me home. As soon as he opened the door, there was a boom, and confetti rained down. Anna, whom I hadn’t seen in three years, was holding a party popper, her eyes crinkling with a smile. “Sister, welcome home!” She acted incredibly affectionate, her eyes practically overflowing with longing. Completely unlike the malicious, hateful look she’d given me when she’d falsely accused me of stealing. I ignored her, brushing past her shoulder and walking inside. Her smile froze, and she awkwardly looked to Liam for help. “Why isn’t Anya talking to me? Is she still mad at me?” Liam affectionately ruffled her hair. “Anya just got out, she might still be adjusting. It’s not your fault.” I was already in the bedroom, pulling open the drawer under the bed. Seeing Dad’s old photos and ring still there, I breathed a sigh of relief. Liam stood at the doorway, calling softly to me. “Anya, come out and eat? You’ve lost so much weight, I can see your ribs.” I closed the drawer and followed him out. At dinner, Anna casually asked: 2. “Sister, what was it like inside? I heard it’s really chaotic, is that true?” “Not chaotic. We could read books and newspapers daily, then return to our dorms after dinner.” “Oh, that sounds pretty decent then. Not as tough as I imagined.” As she spoke, a flicker of disappointment crossed Anna’s eyes. Liam peeled a shrimp for me, chuckling softly. “Now that you’re out, let’s not dwell on what happened inside. Just consider it an experience and move past it.” Anna’s expression darkened, and she said no more. A moment later, as if remembering something, she hurried back to her bedroom and returned with a small, elegant box, offering it to me. “Sister, this is a gift I prepared for you. Congratulations on your release!” I didn’t take it, just continued eating my meal. She didn’t seem to mind, smiling as she opened the box. A string of pearl necklaces lay quietly inside, looking incredibly opulent. But one glance, and my pupils constricted, blood draining from my face, a sudden chill engulfing me! Anna pushed the necklace closer to me, her face gradually twisting into a grotesque, chilling smile. “What’s wrong, Sister? Didn’t you love this necklace the most? Enough to even steal it?” “Now I’m giving it to you. Aren’t you happy?” That pearl necklace was a gift Liam had given to Anna. It was also the very thing that had sent me to prison for three years. After Dad was killed in action, Mom took the bereavement benefits and ran off, leaving Liam and me to fend for ourselves. He dropped out of high school, took countless wrong turns before finally succeeding in starting his own company. Once he made money, he adopted Anna, who had also lost her father, and brought her home. At first, I disagreed, but Liam persuaded me: “Anna is just as unfortunate as us. At least you have me; she has nothing.” “Anya, be more generous. It’s just one more plate at the table.” But despite his words, Liam treated her even better than he treated me. It was as if he wanted to raise a sister all over again, giving her everything he hadn’t had the chance to give me. Jewelry, accessories, designer bags—whatever Anna wanted, she got. In just two years, he spent millions. That was money he’d earned through sheer effort, so many nights he had to go out for business dinners, throwing up until he was sick but still forcing himself to drink more. I worried about his money and always urged him not to spend too much. As a result, Anna resented me. She hid the jewelry under my pillow, then cried to Liam, claiming I had stolen it. Liam exploded in rage, making me kneel in the rain to admit my mistake. “How could the Reynolds family produce a daughter like you? Dad was a soldier, and I’ve always been upright, never done anything wrong.” “Of all people, why did you have to take after that mother who ran off with all the money?” “Did I ever starve you or deny you clothes? Why would you steal?” I developed a high fever, crying and explaining that I hadn’t stolen anything, but he refused to believe me. The next day, he hired the best lawyer and sued me. He was my own brother, yet in court, he argued vehemently on Anna’s behalf, acting as her witness. Ultimately, I was sentenced to three years, branded a thief. Before I went in, relatives, friends, and even the lawyer advised him not to be so serious. I was a girl, after all, and three years in prison would ruin my life. But Liam was determined, choosing to alienate them rather than give up on sending me in. “Anya won’t be ruined. I work hard to make money for her. Even if she is ruined, I can support her for the rest of her life.” “But she stole, and she has to be taught a lesson!” During those three years, he visited me every month, asking if I understood my mistake. And I never showed my face, only relaying messages through the guards: “I didn’t steal any money.” 3. Every time he left, the guard would sigh and tell me: “Your brother doesn’t believe you.” One disappointment after another, slowly, imperceptibly, turned into despair. I felt as if the whole world had abandoned me. I used to have my brother’s love, but now even that was gone. Seeing that pearl necklace again, I completely broke down, overturning the box. The pearls scattered onto the floor, the string snapped, clattering and rolling away. Anna froze, flustered, and Liam’s face instantly darkened. “Anna kindly gave you a gift, and she doesn’t even blame you anymore. What are you doing?” I sat in the chair, trembling uncontrollably, my face frighteningly pale. He pulled me up. “Do you think just because you’re out, you can throw a fit? Pick up those pearls right now and apologize to Anna!” How could I apologize? I shoved Liam hard, pushed open the door, and ran out. The biting wind outside matched the churning knot of injustice and sorrow in my heart. I didn’t want to come home. If it weren’t for Dad’s belongings, I wouldn’t have returned with him. I never wanted to be wrongly accused again, never wanted to suffer another shred of injustice! Liam quickly chased after me from behind, grabbing my wrist. His brows were tightly furrowed, and he spoke with a tone of reproach. “Where are you running off to? Three years in jail and your temper hasn’t changed?” I couldn’t take it anymore. I shook him off, my eyes red, and retorted: “Whether she gave me that necklace out of kindness or malice, Liam, can’t you see it?” “I’m your biological sister. You’ve already sent me away once with your own hands, what more do you want?” “It was for your own good!” His voice grew cold. “If you dare to steal, you must accept the punishment. Otherwise, how will you ever change this habit?” “Am I supposed to watch you make mistakes without doing anything, just letting you go down the wrong path?” His words felt like a heavy pickaxe, carving a deep chasm in my heart. When had I ever stolen anything, growing up? What reason would I have to steal a necklace from Anna? Why couldn’t he just think, why wouldn’t he believe me! Tears of injustice streamed down my face, the despair and pain of three years washing over me. I gave up on explaining once again. Liam looked at my buzzcut, then softened his voice, as if admitting defeat. “Anya, everything I’ve done has been for you. Even though you spent three years in prison, I’ve still paved the way for your future.” “My company will be yours one day. I truly just wanted to give you a small punishment, nothing serious.” “Come home with your brother. Don’t run off like this again.” He took my hand, leading me back toward the house. I followed his steps numbly, not saying another word. When we pushed open the door, Anna’s eyes flashed with surprise to see Liam bringing me back. She hadn’t expected him to still be willing to let me come home, even after all this. But I felt utterly exhausted, retreating into my bedroom and not coming out again. Late that night, Anna crept into my room. I sharply opened my eyes, but she thought I was still sound asleep. She fumbled, lifted my pillow, and slipped something underneath. I said nothing, nor did I take it out. Anna was in such a hurry, repeating her old trick the moment I returned. I wanted to see if Liam would choose to believe me this time. Sure enough, the next morning, she cried to Liam, claiming I had stolen her necklace again. “Sister, if you liked it, you just had to tell me. I even gave you the necklace yesterday, but you didn’t want it.” “Do you just enjoy petty theft?” Liam’s face was dark, his gaze fixed on me, teeth clenched. 4. “You just can’t change, can you?” My heart dropped with a thump, plummeting into a bottomless abyss. Liam’s words were like a sharp sword, severing the last ties of family between us. I gave a self-deprecating smile. “No, I can’t.” “Smack!” As my words fell, Liam suddenly raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. The fury and disappointment in his eyes threatened to spill over. “How could I have a sister like you!” I was silent for a moment, then, covering my face, I let out a cold laugh. “I don’t know why I have a brother like you.” “You!” He pointed at me, his hand trembling, too furious to speak. Before his second slap could land, I dropped to my knees with a thud and bowed my head. “Thank you for dropping out of school to take care of me. From now on, I have no brother.” With that, I stood up, retrieved Dad’s belongings from under the bed, and turned to leave. His face was grim as he snatched the photos and ring. “These are Dad’s things. You have no right to them!” Then so be it. I nodded, resignedly preparing to leave. Liam’s voice, tight with suppressed anger, called out from behind me. “You’re an ex-con. What can you do without me? Starve?” My steps didn’t falter. “Don’t trouble yourself.” After leaving the house, I sat in the neighborhood park for a whole day. This time, Liam didn’t come after me. He must have been utterly disappointed and disgusted, unwilling to care anymore. I had no money, so I looked for a job that offered room and board. But as soon as they heard I’d been to prison, not a single company would hire me. Left with no choice, I went to a construction site. The foreman scrutinized me from head to toe, then slowly frowned. “A woman? Our work is very tough. Can you handle it?” I forced a pleading smile. “Please, sir, just give me a chance. Don’t let my size fool you; I’m actually very strong.” He was still hesitant, until I started working without further ado, moving quickly and efficiently. He finally nodded, agreeing to let me stay. “Room and board included, a hundred a day.” “But our project is short-term, only a month.” I nodded happily. That was enough. Julian would be out in a month, and I’d have somewhere to go. So I worked at the construction site for about twenty days. When Liam found me again, he was so shocked he barely recognized me. My hair had grown out considerably, becoming a frizzy mess. My clothes were covered in dirt, flaking off with every step. He watched from a distance, his eyes slowly turning red. After a long while, he rushed over and grabbed my wrist. “How did you end up here? Anya, do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?!” “Come on, let’s go home. You can’t do this kind of work!” I shook him off and picked up another stack of bricks from the ground, pretending not to know him. His lips were tightly pressed together. He stopped trying to persuade me, turning to talk to the foreman instead. I don’t know what he said. Soon, the foreman walked up to me, his face grim. “Anya Reynolds, why didn’t you mention you’d been to prison for stealing? We can’t have someone like that on our site. You’re fired!” “And I can’t pay you your wages. You need to leave now!” I was shocked, quickly begging the foreman for another chance. “I was framed for that. I never stole anything and I never will. Please, just let me stay!” “That’s your biological brother, isn’t it? Would he frame you?” The foreman interrupted me with a sneer. “We can’t have dishonest people. Go, go!” Then, impatiently, he shoved me. I lost my balance and stumbled backward, only to be caught steadily by Liam.

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My DINK husband and I had both retired. Just as we were planning a world tour together, he suddenly laid down his cards. “I’ve publicly claimed to be DINK for thirty years for you, but now it’s time to bring my two children, who’ve been living elsewhere, home!” I had expected this, though, and smiled meaningfully. He thought I was crazy and continued, “It’s natural for a man to carry on his lineage. If you couldn’t have children, I could play along with the DINK pretense. But now, I need to give my children an explanation!” He proposed divorce, wanting to take his son and daughter, along with their mother, on a family trip. I immediately agreed, graciously stepping aside and leaving. 1. The DINK Dilemma After news of the divorce spread, everyone felt sorry for me. An elderly neighbor, empathizing, said, “At this age, to be abandoned by her husband… a bleak old age, how tragic.” “Charles Reynolds, that old scoundrel, what a jerk! Back then, he swore they’d never have kids, just live a life for two. Now look, his own son and daughter are old enough to give him grandkids!” A young college student from the same complex fumed on my behalf. Chatting with old friends, they couldn’t help but lament, “You were so brilliant in your youth, successful in your career, living so freely. But you had to be DINK, and now you’re old and lonely…” My parents also tried to persuade me, “As long as you don’t divorce, his children are your children. They’ll still care for you in your old age. When we’re gone, we’ll have peace of mind.” They all thought I was forced into divorce, that I was heartbroken, that I was facing a lonely old age, having lived my life as a joke. I didn’t explain, nor did I bother to refute them one by one. How our situation truly played out, they would eventually learn when the time was right. Charles, on the other hand, was basking in his glory. He posted a family photo on social media with the caption: “From today on, I finally have a real family.” In the photo, he stood in the middle, with a young man and woman flanking him, their faces beaming with undisguised vigor. And the woman who could carry on his lineage held his arm, smiling sweetly and demurely. The family of four looked happy and warm—this was probably the domestic bliss Charles had always yearned for. It was as if the years he spent with me had never existed, as if they had always been this small family unit. “Look at that, now that’s a life winner,” someone commented. Yes, Charles had won big. In his youth, he enjoyed a life for two with me, living freely for decades, never enduring the hardship of late-night feedings or diaper changes. Yet in his old age, he now had a son and a daughter, to dote on him. How could he not be considered a life winner? Now that he was finally retired, his career and reputation wouldn’t be affected. He could at last legitimize the woman he’d kept hidden for decades, welcome his children home, and experience the warmth of family. And I, at my age, abandoned by my husband, left to face a lonely and unsupported fate, would inevitably draw sighs of pity. But they didn’t know that I had been prepared all along. This marriage was never a one-sided act. 2. The Farewell Home The divorce proceedings went quickly, almost too quickly for me to fully grasp. Charles personally drove me to the registry office. When signing the papers, his hand didn’t tremble at all. Instead, it seemed as if a burden had finally been lifted, making his movements quick and decisive. He smiled at the clerk and said, “Can’t be helped. We’re both old now, and the love just died. But thankfully, I have a son and a daughter to keep me company, so I’ll still enjoy some family happiness.” The clerk looked at me apologetically, her eyes full of sympathy and comfort. I smiled back but didn’t say anything. After the divorce, he waved his hand, hiring people to clear out the bedroom I’d lived in for over thirty years. He was impatient to bring Elaine and his two children home. I didn’t fight or argue, didn’t even bother to hire a lawyer. I simply took my half of the savings and a few important personal items, then decisively moved out. On the day Elaine moved in, I returned to pack up the last few things. The front door opened, and I immediately saw brand new photos displayed in the living room. My wedding photo with Charles had been replaced. In its place was a family portrait of the four of them. Charles sat in the middle, Elaine linked arms with him, and two young, similar-looking adults stood on either side, appearing to be in their twenties, full of youthful spirit. When they saw me enter, the lively atmosphere instantly chilled, as if to declare their unwelcome. Elaine, however, smiled and called out, “Oh, Anya, did you forget something? Let me help you find it.” She completely took on the air of a hostess greeting a guest. “Just a few last things. I’m taking them all today,” I said calmly. Charles sat on the sofa, head still down, casually flipping through a newspaper, as if waiting for me to take the hint and leave. Sarah and Tom stood to the side, their eyes filled with undisguised distance and wariness, treating me like a strange intruder. “Mom, this house’s decor looks a bit old, doesn’t it? The living room is a bit dark. Why don’t we redecorate and change the style?” Sarah said casually. “Yeah, the sofa needs replacing too. It’s so dated. How did Dad manage to live in a place like this?” Tom chimed in. I listened to their nitpicking, watching Charles remain silent, and felt a slight urge to laugh. This was the home Charles and I had lived in for thirty years. Every piece of furniture had been meticulously chosen, yet now they were deemed worthless. Elaine intimately linked arms with Charles. “See how opinionated the children are? This house needs a complete overhaul. We can’t shortchange ourselves.” Charles finally slowly raised his head and glanced at me. “Anya, are your things packed? Take everything at once. No need to keep coming back for this and that. It saves everyone the awkwardness.” His meaning was clear: once I left this time, don’t come back, don’t be an eyesore to their family of four. I averted my gaze, picked up the bag I’d just packed, and stood at the doorway, taking one last look at this house that had once been mine. Elaine was delicately leaning on Charles, peeling an orange. Her two children sat side-by-side on the sofa, watching TV. The three of them laughed and chatted occasionally. It was as if this home had always been this way, made up of their family of four, with no place for me. Charles’s gaze towards Elaine held the respect for the mother of his two children, the guilt for keeping her hidden all these years. As for me, I was merely an old woman they both found irritating, without children or grandchildren to support me, destined to fend for myself. A cold laugh echoed in my heart. Fine. Since you want to drive me away, I’ll leave decisively. So you can fully enjoy this fleeting charade. Because in a few days, it will be you all hating and fighting each other. I turned and left the house without looking back. 3. The Lonely Sunset After the divorce, I moved into an apartment, not far from my old home, but now two different worlds. I didn’t feel any particular difficulty adjusting. Without Charles at home, I found a sense of peace. But outsiders didn’t see it that way. “No matter how capable and free-spirited you were in your youth, you still lost in the end.” This was the common opinion among my friends and relatives. My mother, seeing me, couldn’t help but wipe away tears: “Anya, you’re living alone now, no one to take care of you. What if you fall ill someday?” “Before, when you said DINK, you meant DINK. You insisted on it. Now what? How wonderful it would be to have a child, at least you wouldn’t have ended up like this.” My father sighed, his face full of regret: “We really shouldn’t have let you have your way back then. If we had tried harder to persuade you, you wouldn’t be living like this now.” All their words implicitly blamed my insistence on being DINK for losing my husband’s heart. The most ridiculous part was my friends, who also felt Charles had done nothing wrong. “Men, you know, they need children. Charles was willing to play along with you for so many years, that’s already more than enough.” “You were too stubborn back then. All these years, I’ve never understood what you were aiming for.” “Exactly. If you ask me, since you’re both old now, Elaine would still call you ‘older sister.’ Why not just try to make it work, all living together?” I thought they would at most advise me to accept Charles’s children, but I never expected them to even suggest I share a husband with Elaine. But they didn’t consider that those two children had no blood relation to me. Even if I had stayed, how many good days could I have truly had? When I first insisted on being DINK, I faced pressure from everyone, declaring my absolute decision not to have children, and was criticized as selfish and unfilial. Charles’s parents pressured him to divorce me, but he claimed he didn’t mind and just wanted to live a good life with me. Moved by this, I became even more resolute in my decision. For decades, I compromised, taking all the blame myself, preserving his reputation, and even his own masculine confidence and dignity. Only to discover that he had brought me nothing but utter deception. He didn’t pressure me to have children for him because I wasn’t his only woman. If I didn’t have kids, he could just have other women do it. And he could still maintain a reputation for loving and protecting his wife, and even gain my parents’ trust and support. Why wouldn’t he? When I discovered the truth, I never imagined that the husband I’d always thought was gentle and refined could be so deeply manipulative. I was wrong, but my mistake wasn’t in not having children. It was in taking it upon myself to preserve his masculine dignity. For this, I was even willing to give up my right to be a mother. Therefore, I plotted for years, just waiting for the moment he could no longer keep up the act, to strike him a heavy blow.

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During our annual leave, my husband and I went abroad for our honeymoon. Coincidentally, a new virus broke out—infection meant death within three months. Desperate, and due to my specialized profession, I received the only two return tickets available. I touched my belly, where my child was less than three months old, and excitedly told my husband, “Liam, we don’t have to die.” But on the day we were supposed to leave, Liam said, “I gave the tickets to Sienna. She’s seven months pregnant.” Sienna was the one he’d loved and lost in his youth, his “white moonlight.” For the sake of the baby in my belly, I knelt and begged him to get the tickets back. He hesitated for a second, then coldly refused me. “Sienna and her baby need those tickets more. Your baby is only a month along; it doesn’t count as a life yet!” In the end, I watched helplessly as he took Sienna and boarded the plane, while I, and the child in my womb, died in a foreign land. When I reopened my eyes, I found myself holding two tickets! 1. Half an hour ago, I had called the embassy and, due to my specialized background, had secured these two sole tickets. Memories of my past life flashed before my eyes like a film. They stopped at the scene of me, connected to a ventilator, dying in despair on a cold hospital bed. My body turned to ashes, scattered with thousands of other deceased souls on foreign soil. When I returned to the hotel, it was twenty minutes earlier than in my previous life. I overheard Liam on the phone in the bathroom. “Sienna, don’t be afraid. I’ll find a way to get tickets.” “For the sake of our unborn baby, you must be strong. You’re a strong mother. Trust me, I won’t let you or the baby die.” Liam’s voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. From the other end of the line came intermittent sobs. “Oh, Liam, thank you for still being so good to me. If I hadn’t been born into such a parasitic family, I never would have left you.” Then Sienna’s voice turned a bit sour. “By the way, Liam, are you in Florence for your honeymoon this time?” Liam hummed, then eagerly added, “But also to see you. I heard you got divorced, and I was worried about you being alone.” I gripped the tickets, sitting on the sofa, and scoffed. So, among all those countries, Liam’s insistence on coming to Florence was for Sienna. It was laughable that before we left, he’d given the reason that Florence was a romantic city and he wanted to give me a romantic trip. Only now, reliving it, did I realize it was all a lie. The doorknob to the bathroom turned, and Liam saw me. A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, but he quickly composed himself. He smiled and sat beside me, wrapping his arms around me intimately, as he always did, burrowing into my embrace. “Honey, when did you get back?” Our bodies were pressed tightly together, but I no longer felt the warmth I once did. Instead, a chill seeped into my bones. I pushed him away, calmly saying, “I just got back and sat down when you came out.” He didn’t think much of it, nor did he notice my changed demeanor. Instead, he let out a sigh of relief, then his voice dropped. “Honey, if we can’t leave this time, I’ll die with you.” I said nothing, but scoffed inwardly. With Sienna, he was careful to comfort her and promise she wouldn’t die. With me, he said he could die with me, yet in the previous life, he took the ticket and boarded the plane with Sienna. I still remember how he resolutely flung my hand away, feigning agony as he said, “Eleanor, I’m an only child, and I come from a single-parent home. If I die, my mother won’t survive. But don’t worry, I’ll treat your parents as my own.” 2. But he seemed to forget, my parents only had me, and I was their late-in-life child. My name is Eleanor Vance. My parents said they hoped I would be as precious as pure gold, that my name embodied all their love. Who isn’t a treasure in their parents’ hands? Even now, I can’t bear to imagine how my parents, nearing seventy, would spend their old age if I were gone. After dinner with Liam, he excused himself to go downstairs for a cigarette to clear his head. I stood silently by the window, watching him hail a taxi and drive away. In the empty hotel room, the news reported the daily updated death toll: “Today, twenty-one deaths from infection…” The presenter’s voice was cold as she recited the numbers, but I knew deeply how painfully those lives behind the statistics awaited death. On the first day of infection, the entire body would itch. On the second, rashes would break out everywhere. Those rashes would be painful and itchy, oozing pus. On the third day, internal organs would feel like they were being gnawed away. This agonizing pain would not subside until the very moment of death! Thinking of this, I touched my belly and said softly, “Good baby, next life, choose a good father and mother. I can’t… keep you. Mommy doesn’t want you to be born into an incomplete family!” After all, Mommy also came from a complete and loving family. Mommy hopes you can have that double portion of love too! Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep. I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. I saw it was my father calling. As soon as I answered, my father’s choked voice came through the line. “Hello, Eleanor, I saw the news that a virus broke out in Florence, and all flights are grounded. My dear daughter, don’t be afraid. Dad will buy a ticket and come to be with you.” Then, from the other end of the line, came my mother’s suppressed sobbing. “Old man, I’m going too. Buy my ticket as well. You think you’re the only one who misses our daughter? Don’t I?” “Your health isn’t good. Just wait for good news at home, I’ll bring our daughter back safely.” “No, if she comes back, we come back together. If not, it’s better to die together.” Hearing my usually gentle parents argue over me, my eyes silently welled up with tears on my end of the phone. To keep them from worrying, I suppressed my choked voice and quickly said, “Mom and Dad, don’t worry. I called the embassy, and the country gave me return tickets. I’ll be back tomorrow.” My mother, hearing this, quickly snatched the phone. “Really? That’s wonderful! Your father and I will go to the airport to pick you up tomorrow.” I wiped away my tears and smiled. “No, I have a mission when I return home this time. Just rest assured at home and wait for me to come back.” After hanging up, I realized Liam had returned at some point. He looked at me with delight. “Eleanor, you got the tickets, didn’t you?” I had told him when I called the embassy. Now that I think about it, his confident words to comfort Sienna were probably based on the assumption that I would get the tickets. Since he knew, I no longer concealed it, but when I spoke, I deliberately said, “I got the tickets, but there’s only one.” Hearing this, the hopeful light in his eyes instantly dimmed. After a few seconds of silence, he frowned, anxious. “One? How could they only give one? Didn’t you tell them you have family?” “Talk to them again, ask them to make an exception. Someone like you, an unsung hero, couldn’t possibly only get one ticket, could they?” He was right, of course. Life-saving tickets were meant for partners and family. So when I explained the situation to the embassy, they gave me two return tickets without hesitation. But now, faced with Liam’s questioning, I still insisted, “At times like this, tickets are even more scarce. Most of those who can board planes now are the pillars of the country, serving our nation.” He remained noncommittal to my words. Seeing his silence, I deliberately asked, “Honey, don’t you want me to return home? You must know how many lives my identity could save if I returned.” He snapped back to reality, forcing a smile. “I… of course I want you to go back.” Late at night, I pretended to be asleep. Sure enough, he quietly searched for the tickets. I hadn’t deliberately hidden the tickets; they were just in a box on the nightstand. But I had hidden my own ticket. Liam, knowing beforehand that I had only secured one ticket, didn’t suspect anything. With the ticket in hand, he immediately went to the bathroom and made a call. “Sienna, I got the ticket from Eleanor. You can go through the special channel and board the plane tomorrow.” “Really? Oh, Liam, that’s wonderful! Now my baby and I won’t die!” Liam heard the laughter from the other end of the line and joined in her joy. After a moment of excitement, Sienna suddenly remembered something and quickly asked, “Liam, are you coming with me? I want… I want you to be my baby’s father.” If it were the previous life, Liam would have jumped for joy, because this was the lifelong regret he couldn’t overcome. But at this moment, knowing there was only one ticket, he said bitterly, “Sienna, don’t worry about me. If I survive, I’ll definitely come back to marry you.” “Eleanor, such a talented person, wouldn’t only get one ticket, would she? You can talk to her, tell her to give you her ticket first. After you and I leave together, the country, valuing her abilities, should give her another one.” I secretly listened to their conversation. So that was her plan. She still wanted to fly off with him, leaving me to die in a foreign land, just like in the previous life! At this moment, Liam, having heard her words, could only say helplessly, “Eleanor only managed to get one ticket, but don’t worry, I might not die. Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to live until a cure is found.” Sienna suddenly started crying after hearing this. Liam comforted her tenderly for a while before coming back to sleep. After turning off the light, Liam held me and whispered behind me, “I’m sorry, Eleanor. I… I’ll be with you, even in death. Let it be my atonement to you!” A chill spread through me. My heart ached as if pricked by needles. Liam and I, though we met through an arranged marriage, After marriage, he was caring, gentle, and romantic, fulfilling all my expectations for a husband. I gradually fell in love with him. When I heard all flights were grounded, I had even thought of dying with him, but his love and his true heart had never been given to me! Since that was the case, in this life, let him bear the pain of separation by death himself! The next day, when I woke up, Liam was nowhere to be seen.

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My husband, Arthur, dared to cheat on me, thinking I was too old to leave him. When the young woman suddenly showed up at my door, I initially thought she was a university friend of my daughter. The next second, I was stunned by the intimate photos she thrust at me. She believed she could force a divorce, unaware that Arthur only dared to stray because he thought I, being older, wouldn’t leave him. Even my closest friends and family only advised me to endure it, never to leave. Their reason? I married at twenty, and it had been exactly two decades. They said Arthur’s betrayal only came now, so he had already been more than fair to me. Furthermore, he was handsome and wealthy, and I controlled the family finances, making him better than other men. This betrayal, they insisted, I should tolerate. 1. And at first, I truly considered enduring it. The young woman, Daisy, was so young, looking barely seventeen or eighteen, while my husband, Arthur Finch, had just celebrated his forty-first birthday. Our daughter was already in college. Daisy came to me, looking utterly aggrieved, begging me to fulfill her wish for love. Her eyes were bright and sparkling, just like mine once were when I threw caution to the wind. Now, my own eyes were etched with fine lines, and I’d seen a gray hair on my pillow just this morning. “Sweetheart, I can get a divorce.” I was, of course, teasing her. But Daisy didn’t understand, blinking with surprise and delight. “Oh, Mrs. Finch, you’re really willing to step aside?” “Sure. And what are your plans then?” She pouted, thinking for a moment. “I’m planning to go to the Maldives for our honeymoon, and then have a son for him. Mrs. Finch, you don’t know, he really wants a son and keeps pestering me to have one for him.” Arthur wants a son? He was the one who, out of concern for my severe postpartum hemorrhage, voluntarily got a vasectomy. Clearly… times had changed. My desire to tease her vanished. I crossed my arms and leaned back. “Daisy, is it? What I just said was a joke. Arthur and I have been married for twenty years. Our families’ businesses are inextricably linked. We can’t get a divorce. Instead of planning your honeymoon, you should focus on how to extract more money from him.” When I got home, Arthur was sitting on the sofa, looking at documents. Time had truly been kind to him. Even at forty, he only gained a deeper maturity in his brow, making him even more captivating. Hearing me return, he didn’t look up. This was our twenty-year understanding: as long as I didn’t speak, it meant there was nothing to discuss. I went into the kitchen and soon brought out three dishes and a soup. Arthur put down his phone and sat at the dining table. “Vivian said she’ll be back for Thanksgiving. She wants you to pick her up.” “Okay.” “Mom’s not feeling well lately; she needs a check-up.” “Alright, you handle it.” “The bathroom at home is a bit slippery. I want to find someone to redecorate.” “Okay, whatever you say.” “Daisy came to see me.” He finally lifted his head from his bowl and looked at me. His gaze was calm, cold, with a hint of bewilderment. “And?” His mistress came to see him, and he asked me, “And?” Even though I was accustomed to being mild-mannered, I was still caught off guard. Frowning, I looked at him: “Arthur, we’re married. You’re cheating.” I don’t know which word struck a nerve, but he slammed his bowl down. “Eleanor, don’t use such harsh words.” “Daisy is just a child. We don’t have that kind of relationship you’re imagining. Don’t talk nonsense.” A child? How could I not know Arthur had become so adept at self-deception? That night’s dinner ended in discord. I expected a standoff for a while. But the next day, after buying groceries, I returned home to find Daisy in the living room. She was wearing the slippers I bought for our daughter, watching Arthur peel an apple for her. “Oh, Arthur, you’re so amazing! The peel didn’t even break!” “Hmph, making a big deal out of nothing. Here, take it, eat slowly.” Looking at the perfectly round, shiny apple, my mouth tasted bitter. I used to love apples, and he learned to peel them for me. I never imagined that skill would now be used for another woman. Daisy sat happily on the sofa, her fair legs swinging back and forth. I noticed Arthur’s eyes darken slightly. That was the symbol of what he wanted. He pulled her, lifting her onto his lap. Just before the two of them could get any closer, I pushed the door open and walked in. Seeing me, Daisy didn’t move from Arthur’s lap; she just tilted her head and looked at me. “Oh, Mrs. Finch, we meet again!” “I’m sorry, I twisted my ankle. Arthur is helping me look at it. You don’t mind, do you, Mrs. Finch?” She twisted a couple of times, and Arthur let out a suppressed groan. My first half of life had been too protected, so much so that now, I suddenly didn’t know how to retaliate. Should I attack her like a common shrew? Or scratch the scoundrel’s face until it bled? Neither seemed like a wise move. After thinking for a moment, I placed the groceries on the dining table. Then I turned to Arthur and said, “Let’s get a divorce.” 2. He forcefully pushed me away. Arthur refused, claiming he hadn’t committed any fundamental errors. He even mobilized relatives and friends to persuade me. My in-laws, whom I had cared for for twenty years, said he hadn’t physically cheated, so I should just tolerate it. They would intervene and make him transfer five percent of the company shares to me. Our mutual friends said that the girl was only after money, so if I left, wouldn’t that just play right into her hands? Arthur’s business was thriving, his net worth constantly increasing. Only a fool would hand over such wealth to someone else now. My best friend was also going through a divorce recently. Her husband had cheated too, the only difference from me being that her husband had no money and was ugly. She sighed, advising me to just let it go. All breathing men cheat, and at least Arthur was rich. You see, it seemed money had become a get-out-of-jail-free card, capable of absolving all marital sins. I said nothing, still preparing the divorce documents. My father heard the news and came over, slapping me across the face the moment he walked in. His face was red with anger: “What successful man doesn’t socialize? What’s wrong with having one or two women? Wasn’t twenty years of him treating you well enough? Do you have to end up in a miserable divorce? You’re forty now. Who would want you after a divorce?” His face was flushed with health; it seemed my stepmother took excellent care of him, and my new younger brother was well-behaved. Naturally, he couldn’t spare a thought for whether I was hurt or not. The last one to come and persuade me was my daughter, who was in college. When she returned, I instinctively reached out to hug her. But she pushed me away. “Why do you have to divorce Dad?” I, who felt confident in front of everyone else, suddenly flinched. “Your father has another woman, and Mom doesn’t want to live with him anymore.” “You mean that Daisy? Dad said she’s just a friend.” My daughter looked at me impatiently, her expression exactly like Arthur’s. “Mom, you’ve lived a pampered life forever. Can you really handle being divorced? If you can’t adjust, I won’t take care of you.” To be honest, before she came back, I always thought that at least this child, whom I had raised by hand, would give me a hug. She would angrily confront her father, question him about why he was hurting Mom, and then stand by me, firmly cutting ties with the cheating man. Unexpectedly, the moment she returned, she unleashed a torrent of anger on me, then stomped upstairs. Bang! The door slammed with earth-shattering force, making my very soul tremble. That night, while showering, Arthur, for the first time in a long while, came into the bathroom. It had been a year since our last intimacy. When he entered, his gaze was cold and clear. But his hands didn’t stop, moving familiarly over me. “Don’t be angry anymore, hmm?” “Tomorrow I’ll send her away. She won’t appear in front of you again.” My body gradually warmed, but my heart grew colder. I closed my eyes, letting tears mix with water droplets and fall. “Arthur.” “You… truly disgust me.” That Daisy, she was the same age as our daughter. Even if he had found someone in their twenties or thirties, I could still attribute it to a man’s lust. But he found a girl the same age as our daughter. That girl was so young, fresh out in the world. How could he lay his hands on her? 3. Arthur fumed, pushing me away violently. A sharp pain shot through my ankle. Before I could even look, he grabbed my chin and pulled me to the mirror. “I disgust you? What about you? Don’t you disgust me?” “Look at that ridiculous haircut, does it have any femininity? Look at your chest, it’s already sagging to your belly! And look at your face, those splotches make me lose my appetite!” “Eleanor, do you even look like a woman anymore?” “We’ll continue like this, and I guarantee you’ll live a life of comfort. But if we divorce, you’ll wish you were dead.” Even after Arthur left, I was still trembling all over. I couldn’t believe that the man I had loved for twenty years could say such things, or perhaps… he had changed long ago, and I was too blind to see it? I clenched my hands tightly, letting blood run into my palms. A sharp pain surged, making my mind even clearer. Arthur, do you think I have no way to deal with you? That you can do whatever you want? Just wait. This divorce, I’m getting it for sure. The next day, downstairs, Arthur had uncharacteristically prepared breakfast. Our daughter was eating, and seeing me, she lowered her head again, unwilling to engage. He, however, played the good guy, softly coaxing our child: “Vivian, we agreed yesterday, you have to forgive Mom.” Only then did our daughter reluctantly say, “Mom.” “The child was tired from the car ride yesterday. Come quickly and eat, I made your favorite sandwich.” He and I met eyes, and there was undisguised triumph in his. I said nothing. A moment later, the doorbell rang, and the maid brought Daisy in. “Mrs. Finch, good morning. I’m here to deliver documents to Mr. Finch.” They openly clasped hands. Our daughter didn’t think anything of it; instead, she invited Daisy to eat. Daisy demurred for a moment, then turned and sat in my seat. As if to spite me, Vivian placed my breakfast in front of her. She also poured her a glass of the orange juice I usually loved. Daisy also put all her effort into trying to win Vivian over. After exchanging school information, they discovered they were university alumni. “Oh, Vivian, you have such a nice personality! I thought you’d dislike me just like Mrs. Finch…” “My mom’s just going through menopause lately, she’s paranoid. She insists you and my dad are having an affair. Just ignore her.” By the end of the meal, the two had actually become good friends. I hadn’t listened to anything since Vivian said I was paranoid, and I walked out of the house. I needed to find someone, an old classmate I hadn’t seen in over ten years. My first love, the renowned lawyer, Ethan Grant. 4. At the coffee shop, I told Ethan about my desire for a divorce. He scoffed. “You’d really give that up?” Still so ill-tempered, even at his age. If only he had been a little more gentle, I never would have broken up with him. Too lazy to argue with this stubborn mule, I pulled a card from my bag. “I’ve checked around. Your market rate is a million. Here’s half a million; I’ll pay the other half after the divorce. This is business, no personal feelings.” Ethan toyed with the card, then tucked it into his bag. “Alright, boss.” On the way back, he offered to drive me. Compared to my own harmonious family life over the years, his had been much harder. I heard his wife passed away a few years ago from illness, and they had no children. He simply poured all his energy into work, and his career flourished, making him a top lawyer in Sterling City. Ethan’s car was a flashy Maserati, roaring as it drove. I kept frowning. “At your age, why do you still like such flamboyant things?” I wondered why his wife had ever fallen for him. Ethan raised an eyebrow. “You used to like this kind of flashy stuff too, remember?” That left me speechless. In my twenties, I certainly did like gaudy things, but what sane person at forty can still play around like that? He truly had a lot of energy. Too lazy to talk more with him, after getting out of the car, I transferred him three hundred dollars. Ethan: “?” Me: “Cab fare.” Ethan: “Alright, boss.” Though his car was flashy, Ethan taught me a lot about preparations for divorce. Following his guidance, I managed to uncover Arthur’s bank account details and hired a private investigator who got photos of the address where he was keeping his mistress. It was a house I had bought before marriage. We lived there during our courtship and for the first few years of our marriage. Later, when Vivian was born, we hired a nanny, and the house was too small, so we moved to the current villa. I hadn’t visited it in years. Arthur actually hid her there? I found the keys, chose a day when they weren’t there, and opened the apartment door. Everything inside was unchanged, except for some added clutter. It was clear that Daisy truly wanted to marry Arthur. Behind the sofa hung their framed photo. By the dining table, there were knitted dolls she had handmade. In the kitchen, a rich soup was still in a thermos. If the photo’s pose didn’t exactly match mine from back then. If the dolls she knitted weren’t my favorite orange plushies. If the soup she brewed wasn’t the exclusive recipe I developed for Arthur’s stomach condition. Then I might have applauded this loving, illicit couple. But the soup recipe, I had only ever given to my mother-in-law. Which meant, besides me, only she knew it. Yet now it appeared in Daisy’s living space. The continuous betrayals made me question if I truly was such a failure, to make everyone around me so readily choose to hurt me? Just as my emotions were churning, the door suddenly opened. Daisy walked in happily. Then turned and flung herself into Arthur’s arms. “It’s wonderful! Arthur, I’m finally going to have a son for you!” Arthur stroked her face indulgently, then looked up, and our eyes met. 5. For the first time, I saw panic on Arthur’s face. He probably never imagined he’d see me here. At that moment, I, on the other hand, calmly took out my phone and started recording. Seeing this, he tried to snatch it away, but I blocked him: “Arthur, think carefully. This room has surveillance cameras. If I retrieve the footage, both your reputations will be ruined.” Arthur let out a ragged breath. He had dominated the business world for years, accustomed to controlling everything. Faced with this loss of control from me, he instinctively felt irritated. “Eleanor, stop making a scene and go home.” “I want a divorce.” “I’m not divorcing you. Give up!” “I want a divorce. We’ll finalize it tomorrow, or you can expect to be all over social media.” “Why are you causing trouble? Haven’t you thought about your father, my parents, and our daughter?” He brought up Vivian, and I finally broke down. I picked up a vase and smashed it to the floor. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Don’t you dare mention them!!!” I rushed over and slapped him hard. “You bastard! You didn’t think about them when you cheated, you didn’t think about them when you had a child with another woman, and now that I’ve caught you red-handed, you want me to think about them? What kind of double standard are you, so good at letting yourself off the hook?” “You’re just an old pervert who can’t keep his pants on. After disgusting me, you want to shut me up? I’m telling you, in your dreams! Either you divorce me tomorrow, or we’ll fight it out in court, and let the chips fall where they may. Your call!” I went straight to Ethan Grant’s law firm. He happened to be free, so he found me an office and poured me a glass of water. “What’s wrong? You’re so upset.” “Don’t even ask. I ran into the mistress. She’s pregnant.” “What are you thinking now?” At this, my anger flared. “What do you think I can think? Is thinking even useful now?” Ethan paused, pushing the water glass closer to me. This small gesture immediately extinguished my anger: “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” He shrugged: “No problem, the client is always right.” Ethan said that the current situation was very favorable for me. I had photos of the apartment, and the fact that Arthur had a child with someone else was an undeniable de facto marriage. This situation would be even more advantageous for subsequent asset division. My mind felt numb; I couldn’t articulate what I was feeling. When I left the law firm, he offered to drive me, but I refused. I wanted to walk alone.

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After cancelling my engagement to my arch-nemesis I finally got my wish: I married his uncle, Arthur Marston. For three years, I curbed my rebellious streak, playing the dutiful Mrs. Marston. Even when he forgot my birthday, I swore I’d melt his heart. Then came our anniversary. I’d booked a yacht, hired a line of male models, and video-called Arthur. His face remained impassive, despite the lavish scene on my end. “Something wrong?” he asked. The next second, I heard a woman’s voice from his side. “Arthur, who’s calling?” Before I could press for details, the call ended. Simultaneously, a tipster sent a photo. In it, Arthur was smiling gently, tenderly draping his jacket over his college sweetheart. Just then, a text popped up from my arch-nemesis. “Auntie Evelyn, are you getting a divorce this month?” Usually, I’d snap back, calling him crazy. But this time, I was finally going to give him what he wanted. … I typed two words into the chatbox: “Let’s do it.” The moment I hit send, all my excitement drained away. “Alright, everyone, that’s a wrap. You’ll all be paid.” The male models exchanged glances, then discreetly headed into the cabin, clutching their tips. My best friend, Serena Hayes, slid onto the seat beside me, offering a glass of warm water. “Evie, are you… actually serious this time?” She looked at me, as if struggling to believe I’d truly let go. I sighed. “Three years. Even if Arthur Marston were a stone, cradled against my heart, it should have warmed by now.” I used to believe that hearts were made of flesh and blood. For him, I’d risked being labeled a betrayer, breaking off my engagement to Julian Marston. It all stemmed from that kidnapping seven years ago. Trapped in a dark, damp abandoned warehouse, I’d despaired, convinced I was going to die. It was Arthur who burst in, bloodied, taking a fatal knife blow for me. In that moment, I knew he was my soulmate. And he hadn’t always been this cold. I was Evelyn Sterling, the rebellious heiress of the Sterling family. Car racing, boxing—I dabbled in everything. At family gatherings, the elders would passive-aggressively criticize my lack of “ladylike” charm, shaming the family name. Only Arthur would quietly defend me. “Evelyn’s fine the way she is. Besides, the Sterling family doesn’t need an heir who’s just for show, does it?” Those words sealed my fate. I plunged headfirst into a marriage destined for heartbreak. What I didn’t realize was that his tenderness and protection would vanish the moment I insisted on marrying him. After the wedding, Arthur was a changed man. Distant, cold, like a machine programmed only to fulfill obligations. No matter how much I tried to rein in my temper for him, learned to cook his favorite dishes, or even ditched my beloved racing gear for demure outfits he preferred, he never noticed. Then, Julian told me about Laura Kennedy. A girl from a humble background, she was his college sweetheart, his “white moonlight.” The Marston family matriarch disapproved of her origins. Coincidentally, I was also clamoring to marry into the Marston family. So, with a sum of money and a plane ticket, Laura was forced to leave the country. To avoid a family rupture, Arthur reluctantly married me. But he blamed me for everything. He believed I had bullied his beloved away. I tried to explain, but all I got was his icy stare. “Evelyn, I already agreed to marry you. What more do you want?” It wasn’t until today, seeing it with my own eyes, that I truly understood: all his warmth was reserved for Laura. In the photo, he gently took off his coat and draped it over Laura’s shoulders. The tenderness in his eyes was something I wouldn’t dare dream of. I admit it, I lost. It turns out that relentlessly pursuing a dead end only leads to a broken spirit. My phone vibrated suddenly. It was Julian’s reply. I could almost picture him, on the other side of the world, raising an eyebrow at my message. My thoughts drifted back to the day I broke off our engagement. Julian tossed me the keys to his limited-edition Bugatti, a playful smirk on his face, though his eyes held no real warmth. “Evelyn, are you absolutely sure?” he’d asked. “You know, forcing a relationship never ends well.” At the time, my heart was so full of Arthur, I couldn’t hear a word he said. “Mind your own business! I’d rather die in his hands!” Julian stared at me for a long moment, then let out a scoff. “Alright, don’t come crying to me later.” Despite his harsh words, for the past three years, his texts had arrived like clockwork at the beginning of each month. “Still not divorced?” “This month? Yes or no?” I’d always call him insane, but he seemed immune, repeating the pattern the next month. One time, furious at Arthur’s cold shoulder, I went back to my family home and ran into Julian. He was leaning against his car, smoking, his voice a little hoarse through the hazy smoke. “Evelyn, just say the word.” “Even if the sky falls, I’ll hold it up for you, and you’ll walk out of the Marston family clean.” Now, I wondered if I should have turned back sooner. My phone vibrated again, two new messages from Julian: “One week, tops.” “I’ll be back to handle the paperwork myself.” Serena glanced at my screen, her brow furrowed. “A family alliance like ours is a complex thing. If news of a divorce gets out, both family stocks will plummet. Walking away clean won’t be easy.” I forced a bitter smile, draining my wine glass. That night, I was practically carried home, utterly drunk. By Arthur’s schedule, he’d be long asleep by now. I stumbled into the villa, but then a strange feeling crept over me. Usually, Arthur’s wolf, Fang, loved to rest here. It gave no quarter to anyone but Arthur. Even if I offered it the freshest meat, it would only bare its teeth and growl at me. But now, its custom-made kennel was empty. I sobered up instantly. Fang was Arthur’s beloved pet. If it ran off, or got hit by a car… It was still a living creature, no matter what. Even if I was getting divorced, I didn’t want anything to happen to Fang. “Fang… are you around?” I whispered, searching through the bushes, stumbling over my feet. Finally, behind a thick patch of grass, I saw those glowing green eyes. It watched me warily, a low, warning growl rumbling in its throat. Thank goodness, it was Fang. I sighed in relief, squatting down, cautiously extending my hand. “Don’t be scared, come back with me…” The next second, it lunged, its fangs savagely embedding themselves in the web of my hand. I cried out, blood gushing instantly. After that bite, it turned and darted deeper into the garden. Ignoring the pain in my hand, I stumbled after it. The main house garden, which should have been dark, was now lit by several warm, yellow floor lamps. I chased, breathless, about to call for help to catch the wolf. But when I saw the scene before me, the words caught in my throat. On a garden bench, Arthur and Laura sat side by side. Fang, who had just been so aggressive towards me, was now docilely lying at Laura’s feet, as obedient as a house dog. Laura bent down, her eyes wide with surprise, and embraced it. “Fang, is that really you? I can’t believe you’ve grown so big, and you still remember your mama!” I froze. How did she know Fang? Laura looked up at Arthur, a hint of nostalgia in her voice. “Arthur, I thought this wolf we rescued had been sent away long ago. I can’t believe you brought him home and raised him so well.” Listening to her reminisce, Arthur nodded. “He really does still like you. These past few years at home, he wouldn’t let anyone touch him but me.” No wonder. For three years, no matter how hard I tried to approach it, I was met only with coldness and suspicion. It turned out this wolf was just like its owner. Its heart had already chosen someone. I felt like a clown, endlessly trying to warm up to someone who couldn’t care less. Thinking of this, I couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. Laura seemed to “suddenly” notice someone else was there. She gasped, shrinking into Arthur’s embrace as if startled. “Arthur, who’s that?”

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When I was making late-night snacks for Luna Bright to come home, I stumbled upon a video of a couple tossing a coin to decide who would do the dishes. The guy held a coin, but before he could flip it, a woman’s hand covered his. Her voice was full of affection: “Just tell me what you want. No need for games, you might hurt your hand.” The woman’s voice sounded familiar. Even the bracelet on her wrist was identical to Luna’s, and the guy’s watch was the same limited edition Arthur Vance had bought his father three months ago for eight million dollars, the only one of its kind. But Luna should be working overtime at the office right now. As I stood there, stunned, the guy in the video shook his wrist, his voice laced with annoyance: “I’ve been wearing this watch for three months now. Don’t you think it’s time for a new one?” I stared at the expensive watch in the video, its dial studded with small diamonds. A chilling realization dawned: the woman in the video was my wife, Luna Bright. … I clicked on the blogger’s profile, discovering hundreds of posts. Besides himself, a three-year-old boy frequently appeared in the videos. I scrolled all the way to the bottom and found his first post from three years ago. He was holding a woman, their faces hidden. The caption read: “Thank you, my dear wife, for bringing our little one into the world.” Next to him, another middle-aged man was holding a newborn baby. That man was Luna Bright’s father. My grip tightened on the phone. I didn’t know how to process this. I racked my brain, recalling the past five years and how Luna’s father had treated me. Initially, he couldn’t stand me. After our marriage, I became a stay-at-home husband at Luna’s insistence, failing to provide for the family. Worse, due to a health issue, I couldn’t have children, making me, in his eyes, an unworthy son-in-law. But ever since Luna went on a year-long business trip to her hometown three years ago, his attitude towards me had done a complete U-turn. Not only did he stop looking down on me, but he even encouraged me several times to make things work with Luna. It turned out he already had a more satisfactory son-in-law in mind. I went back and replayed the video I’d just seen. It had been posted three days ago. That night, coincidentally, was our fifth wedding anniversary. I’d booked a restaurant a month in advance, planning a romantic dinner with Luna. She’d promised she’d be there. But that night, I waited until the restaurant closed, and she never managed to finish her “overtime” at the office. Now, watching the video, I finally understood. That night, she was with another man. When Luna finally came home, the late-night meal on the table was already cold. She noticed my dazed stare and smiled, asking, “Honey, what’s wrong? Did something happen when you went out today?” I shook my head. Luna pretended to think for a few seconds, then sat across from me, took my hand, and said softly, “Still upset about me breaking our date the other day, aren’t you? Tell you what, pick any gift you want. I’ll buy it for you tomorrow, and then you’ll forgive me, okay?” Feeling the tenderness in her voice, and remembering the video, I quietly said, “Then buy me a watch.” Luna hadn’t expected such a simple request and readily agreed. I opened my phone and showed her the watch’s picture. “Get me this one.” But when Luna saw the watch in the image, a flicker of discomfort crossed her face. I pretended not to notice, asking in a low voice, “What’s wrong?” Luna gave a forced laugh. “I heard that watch was already reserved a few days ago. But don’t worry, darling, I’ll find a way to get it for you.” “Alright, thank you, my dear wife.” After that, I didn’t want to talk to her anymore and went to the bathroom to shower. Through the trickling water, I heard Luna arguing with someone on the phone. When I came out, she was sitting on the sofa, clutching her phone, her face flushed with anger. Luna looked at me with a hint of dejection. “I’m sorry, honey, that watch has already been bought. No matter how high a price I offer, they won’t sell it to me.” She then reached out and hugged my neck, inhaling the scent of my shower gel. “It’s all my fault. I can’t even fulfill such a small request for you.” I let her hug me, saying nothing. I already knew she couldn’t buy that watch. Because in the bathroom, I had just seen the blogger post a new video. “Just received my new watch from my husband.” “Phew, so close! Some jerk almost snatched it away.” The comments below were a mix of envy and teasing. “You should be worried about someone snatching your wife, not just the watch.” “Your wife is so rich and generous, surely many men out there want your spot.” The blogger posted a disdainful emoji. “Those men out there are old and ugly, and they can’t compare to me in bed. How could my wife possibly be interested in them?” I understood his insinuation. Five years into our marriage, I hadn’t worked due to my health. In our intimate life, she had always accommodated me, a few times a year without complaint, never pressuring me. Now it seemed, her leniency was more out of guilt. The next day, as soon as Luna left, I hailed a cab and followed her. There was nothing at her company today, so I was sure she would go to see that man again. I needed to find out where he lived, this man who had allowed Luna to juggle two families for years without me ever finding a single flaw. However, to my surprise, she drove directly to an amusement park. At the entrance, I saw a man in the distance, holding a child. The moment the child saw Luna, he loudly called out, “Mommy!” “Since I promised to come, I wouldn’t break my word.” Luna skillfully took the child from the man, kissed the child, then kissed the man. The man pouted in dissatisfaction. “If I hadn’t opened the watch and worn it last night, were you going to give it to your husband?” Luna chuckled, teasing the child. “How could I? I was just putting on a show for him. Anything I give you is yours, I wouldn’t take it back. Besides, in my heart, where would he even rank compared to you?” My hands clenched, my mask hiding my face as I followed them. Hearing her words, my heart twisted with an agonizing pain. Just last night, Luna had held me, promising that even if I never worked a day in my life, it wouldn’t affect our relationship. She would work hard and support me forever. Not having children was fine; being DINKs for life was perfectly good. For a fleeting moment, I had truly believed her. Believed the video I saw was fake, and the blogger’s account was fake. But now, her actions unequivocally told me that everything I saw was real, and her love for me was fake. I didn’t know what I had done wrong. Luna bought tickets with the man at the entrance, then they entered the amusement park. Watching the two of them with the child, my heart was filled with the bitter resentment and anger of deception and betrayal. As they were about to turn a corner, I pulled out my phone and called Luna. The first time, she hung up when it rang. I wouldn’t give up, and called again. Luna frowned, handed the child to the man, and answered the phone. “Arthur, what’s wrong?” I bit my lip, trying to keep my voice sounding normal. “Nothing. Just thought you’ve been working so hard these past few days. I made some soup for you at home and just arrived downstairs at your company.” Luna on the other end of the line immediately sounded flustered. “Could you… maybe wait at the coffee shop nearby? I’ll be right down.” “Okay.” I hung up. Not far away, Luna spoke to the man, who seemed a little angry. But eventually, the two of them came out with the child. I stood aside, watching her hail a cab for the man and child, then drive straight to her company. Inside the coffee shop, Luna looked at my empty hands, her eyes filled with surprise. “Honey, didn’t you say you came to bring me soup?” I gave a bitter laugh, looking at her calmly. “Luna, let’s get a divorce.” “Why?” Luna’s eyes were filled with shock and disbelief. “Arthur, did something happen to you? Haven’t we been perfectly fine all these years? Why are you suddenly talking about divorce?” I remembered the harmonious image of their family of three at the amusement park entrance, and smiled forlornly. “My health isn’t good, and I won’t be able to have children. I shouldn’t hold you back.” However, Luna took my hand, her eyes full of sincerity. “Honey, I already told you, even without children, our feelings for each other won’t be affected at all. This divorce business—” Before she could finish, her phone rang suddenly. Luna glanced at the screen and immediately hung up. But the next second, the call came in again. Luna frowned, didn’t answer, but looked at me and said in a low voice, “Arthur, I won’t divorce you. There’s an emergency meeting at the company, I need to go up. I’ll talk to you more when I get home tonight.” Watching her hurried escape, I already guessed who that call was from. After she left, I clicked on the man’s profile again. His latest video was filmed at the amusement park. A woman holding a child appeared in the shot, but her face wasn’t visible. He buried his head in the woman’s shoulder, his face looking somewhat unhappy. “That damn jerk is so annoying. No wonder he’s plagued by illness his whole life.” “My wife promised to celebrate Baby’s birthday today, but he still called her away.” However, the comments below this video weren’t admiring him as before; people had noticed a blind spot. The woman who constantly appeared with him was expensively dressed, worth at least tens of millions, but under what circumstances would she be called away at any moment by another man? A daring netizen directly pointed it out in the comments section. “Is the blogger this woman’s kept man?” “Otherwise, why has your wife never shown her face all this time?” “And she can casually buy you an eight-million-dollar watch, how could she be called away so easily?” Other netizens quickly caught on. “Yeah, it must be the wife calling him away, that’s why his ‘wife’ was called away.” “Oh, can’t call her his wife now. After all, he’s just a kept man.” “Disgusting homewrecker, so shameless, still complaining about the actual wife.” The man wanted to prove himself, but besides the pile of gifts Luna had given him, he couldn’t produce any evidence to prove his relationship with her. A netizen asked him to post their marriage certificate directly, and the man, flustered, immediately deleted the video. I smiled, watching his panic and helplessness. Of course, he couldn’t produce it, because the person who registered their marriage with Luna back then was me. Luna and I met in college. She came from a poor background and tried to start a business repeatedly, but always failed. To reassure her, I married her right after college, even breaking ties with my parents for it. “Luna, don’t worry, no matter what happens, I’ll be with you forever.” Luna, looking at the two marriage certificates, her eyes instantly red, cried out loud in my arms. “Arthur, I will never let you down in this life. I’ll make sure your parents believe you didn’t choose the wrong person.” Later, Luna carefully treasured those two marriage certificates. But the damp basement seemed too small to contain two young, fervent hearts. I touched the marriage certificate, its edges already worn from the damp environment years ago, my heart filled with bitter pain. Seven years of love, from a basement apartment to a grand flat, I always thought we were the happiest couple. But it turned out that for more than half of our relationship, she was busy managing her other family. My phone chimed, a new video from that man. “Tonight is Baby’s birthday party.” “My wife and father-in-law will be here soon.” “Then you’ll all know I’m not a homewrecker.” I looked at the location tag under his video and realized the hotel was less than ten kilometers from me. Since that was the case, I should also prepare a gift for Baby. Before leaving, I called Luna again. “What time are you coming home tonight?” In the past, whenever I mentioned breaking up or divorcing, she would always rush home early to coax me. But now, the person on the other end of the line was clearly flustered. “Honey, I have to work overtime tonight, so I probably can’t come home to be with you. Don’t worry, when I get back tomorrow, I’ll make it up to you properly.” Then, afraid I was still angry about what happened at lunch, she quickly added, “If there’s anything I’m doing wrong, just tell me. But you can’t talk about divorce again.” Before I could speak, she hung up directly. I calculated the time, changed my clothes, and took a taxi there. The hotel was huge. As I searched, one by one, Luna was holding the child and toasting with the man to people nearby. On the large screen, joyful red letters read: “Thank you all for coming to the birthday party of Lucas Bright-Kennedy, son of Luna Bright and Liam Kennedy.” I sneered and walked directly in. Back when Luna and I got married, we didn’t have a wedding ceremony. So, over the years, besides her father, I hadn’t met any of her other relatives. But even though I was a stranger to them, no one noticed me. They were all looking up at the two people in the center. “Luna is so lucky! Great at making money, and her husband is so family-oriented.” “Yes, and they had a son as their first child, such good fortune.” “Indeed, I always said she was most compatible with that Kennedy boy.” “Look at them now, such a happy and complete family.” “Her dad said they’re planning to have a daughter this year too.” “After all, having both a son and a daughter is truly a great blessing.” I listened to the conversations around me, feeling the blood in my body turn cold inch by inch. They wanted a son and a daughter, but no one ever cared what would happen to me, whose marriage had been destroyed. Looking at Luna not far away, I was about to step forward but was pulled back by someone. “Hey, young man, are you Luna’s colleague?” “You look quite young. Are you married?” “We have a few pretty girls in our village, want me to set you up?” They talked and tried to pull me to a seat. I struggled fiercely, but my voice was calm. “I’m not Luna Bright’s colleague. I’m her husband.” Someone nearby laughed. “You’re talking nonsense! Luna’s husband is right there beside her. It’s such a happy day, you shouldn’t joke around. If you really want to get married, I’ll introduce you to someone good.” “I said I’m her husband.” I violently flung off the hand holding me, accidentally knocking a glass to the floor. The crisp sound of shattering glass instantly drew everyone’s attention. My father-in-law saw me and his face instantly filled with panic. Before he could stop Luna, she had already turned around. Luna’s eyes were wide with shock and helplessness, and even the child in her arms started wailing. Watching this absurd scene, I ignored the stinging pain from the broken glass on my wrist and walked step by step towards her. “Wife, didn’t you say you were working overtime at the company?” Luna noticed the injury on my hand and quickly handed the child to the man beside her, then helped me sit down. “Arthur, you’re hurt.” But I repeated my earlier question. “Didn’t you say you were working overtime at the company?” Luna heard the choked sob in my voice, and a trace of guilt flashed in her eyes. “Arthur, I can explain all this. But you need to go to the hospital and get your wound treated first.” She was about to take my hand, but I pushed her away, suppressing the tears that threatened to overflow, and asked in a hoarse voice, “What more do you have to explain? Is everything I’m seeing here fake?” Seeing the relatives around us beginning to watch with a hint of schadenfreude, Luna’s patience visibly thinned. “Arthur Bright, can you please stop making a scene? I have my reasons for all this.” “Slap!” The moment her words fell, I slapped her across the face. I looked at Luna’s turned head and said with a cold laugh, “Luna Bright, I thought you at least had some backbone. But I never imagined that even after cheating, you wouldn’t have the courage to admit it to my face. You say you have your reasons, but are your reasons for having another man’s child behind my back?” Before Luna could speak, my father-in-law rushed over, raising his hand and slapping me across the face. “How dare you hit my daughter?” I endured the stinging pain in my cheek, glaring at him, and roared, “How dare I? Because she’s been two-timing, deceiving me, betraying me! She did this to me, so why can’t I hit her?” My father-in-law, his face full of fury, scoffed disdainfully. “Hmph, I’ll tell you the truth, Luna has long been tired of you. A man who isn’t even a real man, daring to occupy my son-in-law’s position. Even if you hadn’t shown up today, Luna was going to divorce you.”

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When Matthew Noth returned to Northwood after a five-year assignment, he brought a mother and daughter with him. He said Evelyn Wilson and her daughter were in a difficult situation and needed his care. The little girl nestled in his arms, sweetly calling him ‘Daddy.’ Our own daughter, Charlotte, cowered behind me, timidly greeting him. “Hello, sir.” I stood there, stunned, for a long time when I saw that scene. This time, I wasn’t jealous, nor did I argue or make a scene. But when he reached for my hand, an intense wave of nausea washed over me. I instinctively recoiled. He froze, his expression lost. 1. I froze, seeing two people standing outside the door. Matthew was holding a little girl. She was nestled in his arms, her voice soft and sweet, calling out, “Daddy, I’m hungry.” The woman standing beside him had long, wavy auburn hair. The scene looked exactly like a family of three. Five years ago, Matthew and I argued incessantly over Evelyn Wilson. The fiercest argument was when I called Evelyn a homewrecker. When I threatened divorce, I accidentally pushed Evelyn, and she fell, a pool of blood spreading beneath her. Seeing that blood, a chilling fear ran through me. When Matthew arrived, he looked at me, his narrow, indifferent eyes filled with a thin anger. That was the first time he had ever yelled at me. “Skylar, have you had enough of this damn drama?” But I’ll never forget the look Matthew gave me then. He carried Evelyn, covered in blood, to the hospital. After they left, I discovered I was bleeding too. That night, Matthew never came back. He requested a transfer and left Northwood. It was six months after he left that I discovered I was pregnant. I had wanted to terminate the pregnancy, but because it was too far along, I had no choice but to carry the baby to term. During that time, I sent him countless texts, made countless calls. Without exception, those messages disappeared into the void. I never contacted him again. I thought he was gone from my life forever, but he returned. After five years, we were both silent. My daughter, standing behind me, peeked out, cautiously calling to him. “Hello, sir. Are you here to deliver a package to our house?” Matthew looked down. When he saw my daughter, he froze, then his features softened, a faint smile playing on his lips. I quickly introduced her. “Oh, this is my daughter.” As I introduced her, it suddenly hit me. This was Matthew’s daughter too. But it was incredibly awkward. I didn’t know how to explain to little Charlotte that the man holding another little girl was her biological father. Matthew stared at Charlotte, his eyes a little red. He asked softly, “Our daughter?” I nodded. Matthew looked up, his deep, dark eyes meeting mine. “What’s her name?” Charlotte’s clear voice answered before I could. “Hello, sir, my full name is Charlotte Sterling.” “My nickname is Lottie.” I added, “Charlotte. ‘Charlotte’ as in the character, not the plant.” Hearing that, Matthew’s brows furrowed almost imperceptibly. He parted his lips as if to ask something, then closed them. Evelyn Wilson smiled faintly, her voice soft. “Skylar, this is my daughter. She’s four this year. I have Matthew to thank, he’s been taking such good care of us.” Matthew’s gaze was still fixed on me. He said, “I’ll take Evelyn and her daughter home first. I’ll be right back.” 2. When Matthew returned, Charlotte was already asleep. Left alone, facing each other, I felt incredibly awkward. His return was too sudden. I said, “I only have bottled water, no coffee beans or tea. Is bottled water okay?” Matthew looked at me, his eyes clear. His dark gaze held an emotion I couldn’t decipher. His voice was calm and low. “Skylar, this is my home too.” “Ah,” I responded awkwardly. “Then make yourself at home.” I’d almost forgotten, his name was still on the property deed. We sat facing each other, on pins and needles, enduring the unbearable silence. After a moment of thought, I couldn’t help but speak. “Why are you back? When are you leaving?” Matthew looked at me. He repeated, “Skylar, this is my home too.” I nodded. “When did you have the child?” I thought carefully. I had conceived right before he left five years ago. I’d started bleeding when he carried Evelyn away. “Just before you left five years ago.” Matthew paused. “I’m not leaving this time. Evelyn and her daughter are in a tough spot. One lost her husband, the other lost her father. I promised David on his deathbed that I would take care of them. I have to.” His tone brooked no refusal; it wasn’t a discussion, but a notification. I just didn’t know why he would return after being gone for so long. I gave a faint smile. “Alright, welcome back to Northwood. The guest room was cleaned by Mrs. Davis this afternoon, you can stay there.” As I stood up, his strong hand gripped my arm. He held me tightly. “What about you? Aren’t you staying with me?” I turned, pulling my hand free from his grasp. “I’m sleeping with my daughter.” Matthew’s thin lips parted, as if he wanted to say something. Being alone with him was so awkward that I immediately said, “It’s getting late. I’m tired, you should get some sleep too.” Then I quickly darted into the bedroom. The next day. Charlotte woke up earlier than I did. Matthew was kneeling in front of her, and Charlotte looked utterly bewildered. “Sir, did you stay at our house last night?” Hearing that address, Matthew’s smile stiffened slightly, then he said gently, “Lottie, I’m your daddy. Not ‘sir.’” ‘Daddy’ was too unfamiliar to Charlotte. So, when she heard the word, she shyly buried herself in my arms. I didn’t quite know how to explain to her that Matthew was her father. “Lottie, he’s your daddy.” Charlotte softly whispered, “Daddy.” Matthew’s brows lifted slightly. “Sweetheart.” After Matthew returned, we were more like roommates. His expression was calm and collected, while I felt uncomfortable and awkward. Discovering his regular schedule, I made sure to avoid him every day. He left at 8:30 a.m., and until then, I would hide in my bedroom. Only after confirming he had left would I venture out. Today, I miscalculated. When I came out, I found him and Charlotte sitting at the dining table. He was looking down, patiently feeding Charlotte. The moment our eyes met, I wished I could disappear into a hole in the ground. He, however, was perfectly natural. “Eat.” I refused. “No thanks, I’m going to be late for work.” With that, I quickly put on my shoes, grabbed my bag, and headed for the door. The moment I opened it, Mrs. Davis happened to be returning from grocery shopping. Seeing Mrs. Davis was like seeing a lifeline. Matthew, however, walked around in front of me and leisurely began to put on his shoes. “I’ll drive you.” “No need.” With that, I zipped into the elevator. 3. That night, I carefully observed Matthew’s routine. He should be resting by now. But when I pushed open the door, I found him lounging on the sofa, dozing. I tried to minimize my presence, tiptoeing back to the bedroom. His clear, masculine voice broke the silence. “Skylar.” I stopped. “It’s so late, are you still awake? You should go to bed, I’m heading to my room now.” He said, “Why are you back so late?” I answered matter-of-factly, “Overtime.” Matthew stood up and walked over to me. He looked down, his eyelashes fluttering. “Tomorrow morning, I bought tickets to Universal Studios. At dinner, Charlotte said she wanted to ride the Ferris wheel.” I hesitated, then considering the child, I agreed. “Okay.” With that, I quickly ran back to the bedroom, closing and locking the door in one swift motion. 4. Before going to Universal Studios, Matthew leaned down and said softly, “Lottie, how about Daddy carries you?” Charlotte shyly glanced at him, then looked at me. I smiled. “If you want, let him carry you.” Charlotte nodded, timidly nestling into his arms. In the confined elevator, Matthew suddenly took my hand. My body stiffened, and I gently tried to pull away. But I couldn’t. His grip tightened. Matthew’s clear voice sounded, “Don’t move, I’m holding your hand.” Just as I gave up struggling, Matthew’s phone rang. He held Charlotte with one arm and my hand with the other. He looked down at me. “Can you answer that for me?” I felt a little awkward pulling his phone from his pocket. When I saw the caller ID, I froze. [Evelyn.] “It’s Evelyn Wilson.” Matthew’s expression changed immediately, turning cold. The voice on the other end of the line: “Matthew, my daughter has a fever, what should I do? I can’t get a cab.” Matthew set Charlotte down from his arms and said, “I’ll be right there.” He hung up, his eyes dark as he looked at me. “Evelyn and her daughter need me; I have to go. I’ll have my assistant drive you and Charlotte.” I took my daughter’s hand. “It’s fine, you go.” Hearing my answer, Matthew’s brows relaxed. He said, “Okay.” I called Mrs. Davis, and we took Charlotte to play all day. Matthew returned only after Charlotte had settled down for the night. I was in the dining room, drinking water. The door was pushed open. I ignored my water, setting the glass down and heading straight for the bedroom. Matthew called out, “Skylar.” His gaze was fixed on my face. I gave an awkward, polite smile. “What is it?” He slowly walked towards me, his voice trembling slightly. “I’m taking care of them, don’t be jealous.” My lips curved upward slightly. “Matthew, I’m not jealous. Evelyn and her daughter truly have a hard life; she should definitely reach out to you if she needs anything.” I thought to myself, it’s not my problem anyway. “Are you angry?” I laughed. “Of course not, I’m not angry.” Matthew probably didn’t want me to be angry, but even after I said I wasn’t jealous or angry, his expression remained grim. “It’s late, you should rest.” 5. Just like five years ago, whenever Evelyn Wilson encountered a small problem in her life, she would call Matthew away. Matthew was out early and back late, and my time with him became less frequent. I felt a lot more relaxed. However, Charlotte’s kindergarten announced a parent-child activity. Charlotte looked at me with hopeful eyes. She asked, “Mommy, can Daddy come with us?” Other children’s parent-child activities always included both parents, but not Charlotte’s. Even though she was young, she would still feel the difference. Since Matthew was back, as Charlotte’s father, he truly needed to be responsible and fulfill his role. I didn’t need a husband, but Charlotte still needed a father. Tonight, I waited for Matthew in the living room. Seeing me sitting there, he was visibly surprised. Matthew’s lips curved into a smile. “I thought you’d keep hiding from me.” Was I that obvious? Being called out so directly made me even more awkward. “It’s like this: Charlotte has a parent-child activity next week. Can you come?” Matthew’s eyes held a faint smile. “Yes.” I told Charlotte, “Daddy agreed, he’ll come to your parent-child activity next week. All three of us will go together.” Charlotte hugged me excitedly. “Thank you, Mommy.” My heart felt a little warm, and a little sad. Charlotte was too understanding. 6. On the day of the parent-child activity, I waited a long time for Matthew, but he didn’t show up. What came instead was a phone call. Matthew’s voice on the other end was a little hoarse, apologetic. “I’m sorry. I broke my promise. There was an urgent assignment; I can’t make it.” After a moment of thought, I said, “It’s alright.” During those silent minutes, I wondered if Charlotte would be heartbroken. I crouched down to comfort her. “Lottie, Daddy might not be able to make it.” Charlotte looked up, her tiny hand reaching out to hold mine. “It’s okay, Mommy. You’ll go with me.” I softly said, “Alright.” At the venue, there were very few single-parent families like Charlotte and mine. But as I looked up, I saw a familiar figure. The man’s tall stature stood out in the crowd. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, dressed in sportswear, looking clean and sharp. A female parent whispered, “That’s the parents of the new transfer student. The child’s name is Amelia Wilson, and her parents are Matthew Noth and Evelyn Wilson. Evelyn Wilson and her husband are both so good-looking, she’s beautiful herself, and her husband is so handsome, no wonder the child is also lovely.” Evelyn Wilson’s child actually had Matthew’s last name. I smiled, saying nothing, and continued listening to their gossip. Matthew still didn’t know that Charlotte and Amelia were in the same kindergarten. Because we were a single-parent family, many games were difficult to participate in. I withdrew Charlotte from the activities. As we were about to leave, I looked up and met Matthew’s gaze. He was holding Amelia in his arms. My eyebrow lifted, and I gave him a faint smile. I decided it was time to bring up the divorce. It was bound to happen sooner or later, might as well get it over with. Matthew looked momentarily lost, his expression stiff and flustered. He put the child down, pushed through the crowd, and ran towards Charlotte and me. I led Charlotte into the car. Charlotte sat in her car seat in the back. I had been steeling myself for this. “Lottie, if everyone else has a daddy, but you don’t, would you be sad?” Charlotte’s voice was clear. “No, I wouldn’t be sad. I’ve never had a daddy.” Hearing that answer, I was silent for a long time. “What about Daddy Matthew?” Charlotte said, “He’s Amelia Wilson’s daddy, not my daddy. I have a mommy.” I don’t know what to say; the sadness in my heart was overflowing. This feeling of sorrow was only because of Charlotte. Matthew had been gone for too long, so long that when I saw him again, for a moment, I couldn’t remember who the person in front of me was. I almost forgot that we were still legally married. I took Charlotte to my company. She was very well-behaved. While I worked, she sat quietly. The company was recently selecting a regional director for the Americas, and I had a chance to be promoted and transferred there. Aside from spending time with Charlotte, most of my time and energy was dedicated to work. Even if we separated, I could still provide Charlotte with an excellent life. I remember when I first found out I was pregnant, my friends and family were afraid I would fall into despair. But I didn’t. Instead, I worked even harder. Because the baby was too far along to abort, only if I was capable, with a good job, could I have the confidence to keep Charlotte by my side and the strength and courage to leave this marriage at any time.

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