Author: Momo Chan

Logan brought a woman back from his trip abroad. “Annie, this is Danica. She’s a world-renowned racing driver. For the sake of our upcoming supercar launch, I have to marry her.” I looked at the woman, entirely unfazed. “Sure. Then let’s break up.” Without shed tears or drama, I packed my things and left the company. My best friend looked at me with a knowing smirk. “So, you’re finally done playing house with him?” I put my arm around her shoulder. “You’re one to talk, Tess. Someone literally stole your identity, and you’re just standing there, cool as a cucumber?” She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please, Annie. You’re no better. The absolute genius of supercar design, and you’re just walking away?” 1 At the welcome party I threw for Logan, my friends nudged my shoulder, teasing me. “Look at you, Annie, setting up such a cozy dinner. Are you finally going to pop the question?” I laughed, keeping it light. “Hey, if he’s down, why not?” My casual attitude had everyone joking about how madly in love I was. They thought it was sweet that I was willing to take the initiative for something so massive. Amidst the laughter, Logan took my hand. My heart did a violent flutter. This is it, I thought. He must have caught my drift. I was so excited my hands were practically shaking. I had not even prepared a proper speech. But his very next words froze the smile right on my face. “Annie, I found an absolute gem during my trip. Danica, the legendary racing driver. I brought her back with me. She fell for me at first sight, and with our new model hitting the market soon, marrying her will take the company to a whole new level.” His eyes shone with a cold, ambitious fire. “You’ve been by my side for three years, Annie. You know more than anyone how much Apex Group means to me. Now that I’m on the verge of making it big, you’ll help me, right?” I glanced at the strange girl standing just behind him, then slowly pulled my hand from his grip. “You’re saying… she is Danica?” Logan nodded without a second thought. “Of course. The one and only. A certified racing prodigy.” “And how exactly am I supposed to help?” A terrible weight settled in my chest. He reached out, gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His voice was dripping with calculated warmth. “We’ll put our engagement on hold, and I’ll marry her first. Don’t worry. If you stay sweet and play along, I’ll find a way to make her accept you. I’ll make sure to spend at least one night a week with you.” “And then what?” My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe. “And then, well, you know how demanding her racing career is. She isn’t suited for pregnancy. You have plenty of free time, so you won’t need to come to the office anymore. You can focus on bearing my children, and the three of us will raise them together.” The woman behind him stepped forward, slipping her arm through Logan’s. “Hi, Annie. You can call me Rachel. I’m only back to support Logan with my professional expertise. Don’t worry, we’re not the same. I’m a career-oriented woman.” I ignored her outstretched hand, keeping my eyes locked on Logan. “Are you absolutely sure you want to marry this ‘Danica’?” Logan frowned, his tone sharpening. “Annie, drop the attitude. Rachel is trying to be nice to you. You shouldn’t just ignore her like this.” He pulled Rachel into his arms, murmuring sweet comfort. “Don’t let it get to you, sweetie. She’s just spoiled. She doesn’t understand the bigger picture. I’ll handle her.” “Fine, Logan,” I said, setting my glass down with a heavy thud. “Go ahead and marry her. We’re done.” I turned to leave, but Rachel grabbed my wrist. “Don’t go yet, Annie! The main event is just starting!” She held me in place as the night sky suddenly erupted in a brilliant display of fireworks. On the massive LED screen across the terrace, scrolling letters appeared: Will you marry me, Rachel? Logan stepped into the spotlight at the center of the terrace. Bathed in the glowing beams, he smiled warmly, holding a massive bouquet of red roses. He pulled a velvet ring box from his jacket, sinking onto one knee in front of Rachel. “Sweetheart, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” A heavy, awkward silence fell over the crowd. But Rachel quickly took the roses and the ring, and the venue erupted into a mix of gasps and cheers. “Oh my god, the CEO is proposing to a total stranger? What about Annie?” Logan raised a hand to silence the murmuring crowd. “Starting today, the position of Chief Designer at Apex Group will be filled by my fiancée, Rachel. Our former assistant designer, Annie, will be parting ways with the company.” “Sir, you can’t do that!” the senior designer protested. “Annie has incredible talent. She understands aerodynamics; she knows cars inside and out.” Logan cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. “You are no longer the chief designer, so watch your tone. Rachel is the famous Danica. She is more than qualified for the title. I don’t want to hear another negative word about her in this office.” Rachel shot me a smug, triumphant look. My colleagues looked at me with pity. I raised my glass, drained it in one gulp, and tipped it toward the happy couple. “I’ll hand in my resignation tomorrow. Happy engagement, Logan. May your business reach new heights.” A satisfied smile finally touched Logan’s lips. “Good girl,” he murmured. Rachel’s eyes flashed with a hint of jealousy. She marched over and grabbed my hand. “Annie, I heard you’re quite the pianist. Why don’t you play something to accompany Logan? He wants to sing for me.” “You know how to play ‘Marry Me’, right?” Logan chimed in with a chuckle. “Of course she does. She’s played it for me plenty of times.” He glared at me when I didn’t move. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get over to the piano.” Even though I had already checked out of this relationship, a sharp ache bloomed in my chest. He had always known about my feelings, but he had chosen to play dumb. “Sorry, I don’t feel like playing,” I said, my voice thick and dry. “Annie, I gave you a way out, and you’re going to act like this? Why are you being so difficult? You have absolutely no sense of the bigger picture. You’re incredibly selfish.” Logan’s face twisted in disgust. Rachel tried to play peacemaker, but as she stepped in to calm him down, the glass of champagne in her hand tilted perfectly, splashing the sticky, stinging liquid right into my face. “Oh! I’m so sorry, Annie! It was a total accident. If you don’t want to play, you don’t have to. There’s no need to fight with Logan. We’re in public; it looks bad.” I stood there, drenched, the stinging alcohol dripping from my eyelashes into my eyes. I felt like a stray dog caught in a downpour. “You look absolutely pathetic, Annie. You’re embarrassing me,” Logan said, stepping back with Rachel in his arms. “Go home and think about what you’ve done. Make sure to pack up your things and clear out of the master bedroom for Rachel. You can sleep in the room next to the housekeeper.” I turned and walked away, my heart entirely numb. Three years. I had wasted three years loving a man like this. “Wait,” Logan called out. An uncomfortable flicker passed through his eyes as he added, “Rachel is on her period. Go buy her some supplies. And when you get home, brew some warm ginger tea so it’s ready when we get back.” In his arms, Rachel blushed, pressing her lips to his jaw. “You’re so sweet to me, Logan.” “Why are you still standing there? Do you need an invitation? Learn to make yourself useful,” Logan snapped, his voice full of disdain. I kept silent, walking out of the venue with unsteady steps. Just as I cleared the lobby, a hand draped over my shoulder. “So, what’s the plan?” I looked up to see my best friend, Tess. Taking a deep breath, I shook my head. “Three years down the drain for a dog. What else is there to do?” Tess let out a loud laugh. “If you’re calling him a dog, then I can sleep easy. Tomorrow, we go in and quit together. I’ve had enough of that joke of a company anyway.” “Deal.” Three years ago, Tess had returned from abroad with me, putting all her effort into Logan’s company. She had worked tirelessly to develop their first high-performance supercar, only for this to happen right before the launch. Tess drove me back to the villa. “Pack your bags. I’ll help you move tomorrow once we’re officially out.” “Thanks.” I went upstairs and began sorting through my life. By the time Logan and Rachel returned, the master bedroom was stripped bare. Not a single trace of my presence remained. Rachel smiled smugly. “Thanks for the hard work, Annie. It seems you really are built for domestic chores. Unlike me; I’ll be focused on helping Logan conquer the business world.” Logan kissed her temple. “You’re going to be my secret weapon, honey.” He spared me a brief, approving nod. “This is more like it. You’ve been with me for three years; you know me best. With Rachel handling my career and you managing the home, Apex is going to be unstoppable. Just don’t throw any more tantrums like tonight. Breaking up? Where would you even go without me? Be realistic.” I didn’t want to waste another breath on him and turned to walk away. Rachel nudged Logan, whispering, “Oh, my stomach hurts again…” Logan panicked, lifting her in his arms and carrying her to the sofa. He swept all my neatly packed boxes off the cushions, sending them crashing to the floor. “Get this garbage out of here. Throw it all away.” “Sure.” I calmly picked up the boxes, which contained every single gift he had ever given me, and carried them straight to the outdoor trash bin. “Where’s the ginger tea I asked for? Bring it here,” Logan demanded, rubbing Rachel’s stomach. The housekeeper, sensing the tension, quickly appeared with a freshly brewed bowl of ginger tea. “Give it to her,” Logan ordered the housekeeper. But then his eyes caught the trash bin outside, realizing I had just thrown away every memento of our relationship. His face darkened. “Actually, Annie, you give it to her.” The housekeeper awkwardly passed the hot bowl to me. “Rachel and I are officially engaged today,” Logan said coldly. “Consider this your way of showing respect. From now on, your job is to keep this house running smoothly for both of us.” I stared at him, completely disgusted. I let go of the bowl. It shattered against the hardwood floor. Hot liquid splashed everywhere, and a sharp, stinging pain sliced across my ankle as a ceramic shard cut deep. “Annie! That is enough!” Logan’s commanding voice echoed behind me. “Get back here and apologize to Rachel right now!”

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1 We were called The Three Primary Colors at the Fine Arts Academy, always together. Before class, we went to the art supply store. My boyfriend always reached for the top shelf first and took two sets of canvases. One for himself, one for my best friend Sandy. Then he would glance back and tell me to hurry because class was about to start. He ran his fingers through Sandy’s hair and sighed. What would you do without me? She pouted and told him not to underestimate her. They laughed and walked to the counter together while I had to call a clerk for my canvas. By the time I paid, they were already gone. Sandy texted that they were running late and had saved me a seat. I hurried to the lecture hall and found them settled in. Sandy waved me over and pointed to a seat several rows away. They were sitting together in matching outfits. I swallowed my words and sat down quietly. Watching them from a distance, I felt a wave of exhaustion. In our trio, I was the one who did not belong. … When class ended, I packed my sketchpad and walked out without saying a word. Marc noticed and quickly caught up with me. “We only ran ahead because we were running late, Nora. You can’t seriously be angry over something so trivial.” I turned around, ready to confront him. Before I could speak, Sandy caught up and threw her arm casually over Marc’s shoulder. “What are you guys gossiping about? Let’s go! If we don’t hurry, the special glazed meatballs at the cafeteria will be completely sold out!” Marc’s attention instantly shifted to her. He let her pull him along, his steps falling in line with hers. She called back over her shoulder, “Nora! Keep up! We’ll grab a table first!” Once again, they left me staring at their retreating backs. The words died in my throat. Even when we weren’t in a rush, they would still leave me behind. I followed the crowd to the cafeteria. Out of habit, I was about to order the spicy dishes they both loved. The words caught in my throat. Biting my lip, I did something I had not done in years: I ordered a tray of entirely mild, bland food. Just as I was about to find a quiet corner to sit by myself, a hand gripped my wrist. I turned to see Marc, his forehead creased with annoyance. “I told you to come sit with us. Sandy is waiting. Where do you think you’re going?” I stared at him, then quietly pulled my hand out of his grasp. “I can’t keep up,” I said. My voice was flat, but my fingers clenched around the edge of my tray until my knuckles turned white. “What?” Marc was taken aback. He was not used to me showing any resistance. “I said, I can’t keep up.” My voice rose, trembling slightly. “No matter the rush, she pulls you away and you just run off. Neither of you ever waits for me.” My throat felt tight, and I could feel tears stinging the corners of my eyes. Marc’s expression softened, but before he could speak, Sandy wrapped her arm around my waist, laughing. “Oh, stop it, Nora! It’s my fault, okay? I just wanted to get us a table quickly so you wouldn’t have to carry that heavy tray around. I didn’t realize my good intentions would upset you so much.” “Look at our poor Nora, so dramatic she won’t even sit with us.” With a few light words, she turned my genuine hurt into a childish tantrum. Marc’s face instantly hardened. “Seriously, Nora? Sandy went out of her way to be considerate, and this is how you act?” “She wanted to get a table quickly so you could eat early because of your stomach issues. Unbelievable. You really don’t appreciate anything.” “Don’t eat then!” He grabbed Sandy’s hand to walk away, but she pulled back. “How can you talk to Nora like that?” She scolded him, then turned to me with a gentle, placating smile. “Come on, Nora, it’s just a silly misunderstanding. Let’s go eat. I’ve been waiting for those spicy wings you always get me.” She froze as her eyes fell on my tray, staring at the plain, unseasoned food. Her expression shifted to one of feigned hurt. Marc sneered, pulling her away again. “You’re still defending her? She clearly doesn’t care about you at all.” “Let’s go.” Sandy let herself be pulled away, casting one last lingering look at me without saying another word. Once again, I was left standing alone in the middle of the crowded cafeteria. I looked down at my tray, feeling incredibly lost. Was it really a crime to want a meal that wouldn’t make me sick? My chronic stomach issues were the result of saving her life. Back in high school, Sandy was the biological daughter of a wealthy family, switched at birth. The fake heiress, Sienna, used her deep family ties to marginalize Sandy. At a party, Sienna and her wealthy friends pinned Sandy down to force alcohol down her throat. I stepped in to stop them, but they didn’t care who I was. They held me down instead, forcing the liquor into my system. If my parents hadn’t arrived in time, the severe allergic reaction would have killed me. That night left me with severe gastritis. I could not stand the smell of spicy food without feeling physically ill. Sandy was consumed by guilt, and she spent the rest of our high school years taking care of me. Later, when I met Marc at an art exhibition and we started dating, he became my protector. He and Sandy used to bicker constantly over me. Marc despised Sandy for what had happened to my health. I was always the mediator, often taking Sandy’s side to keep the peace. Marc used to warn me, “Keep your guard up, Nora. Don’t let people walk all over you.” I had ignored him, happy to have both of them in my life. Until one day, Marc and I rescued Sandy from another cruel prank by Sienna. She was drenched, shivering, looking up at us with tear-filled eyes. That was the first time Marc didn’t snap at her. Instead, he wrapped his own jacket around her shoulders. From that day on, Marc stopped arguing with her. He became her protector too. Eventually, he started caring for her more than he did for me. He brought her everywhere, even on our anniversary dates. I had always rationalized it, thinking he simply pitied her background. But now, I was no longer sure. I ate my bland food in silence, glancing occasionally in their direction. Marc was coaxing Sandy to eat her vegetables, teasing her gently. I let out a quiet, self-deprecating laugh, stood up, and went straight back to the dorm. On the way, I called my mother. “Mom, I’ve made up my mind. I’m not staying here after graduation. I want to go abroad for my master’s degree.” My mother was silent for a moment before asking softly, “What about the art gallery you were planning to open with Marc and Sandy?” “I don’t think that’s happening anymore,” I replied. I could not imagine living my future squeezed between the two of them. Being the third wheel was simply too exhausting. My mother didn’t press for details. She told me she would pick me up in three days and reminded me to submit my paperwork to the dean. I agreed to everything. After hanging up, I leaned against my desk, feeling a heavy weight lift from my shoulders. With graduation around the corner, our roommates had already moved out for internships. Only Sandy and I remained in the dorm. Because I had promised to bring her into the gallery, she had no career worries, which only made her bolder in her interactions with Marc. I walked over to her desk and picked up a small plaster sculpture. It was a matching pair with the one on Marc’s desk. I remembered the day at the workshop when they had both grabbed the matching pair. There was no third piece in that set. Sandy had claimed that since they sat next to each other, it was easier for them to paint it together, effectively pushing me to the opposite side of the table. When we left, the clerk had packed them in one bag, smiling. “You two make such a cute couple. Your color choices complement each other perfectly.” Marc had smiled, and Sandy had laughed it off, saying, “We’re art students, color theory is second nature to us.” They had let the misunderstanding slide. I had clutched my empty hands, unable to bring myself to scream that I was his girlfriend. Later, they had apologized profusely. Because I valued our bond, I had let it go. How incredibly foolish I had been. “Nora, why did you leave without saying anything? Marc and I were looking everywhere for you!” The dorm door swung open, and Sandy walked in. Seeing me standing by her desk holding the plaster sculpture, her smile widened. “Careful with that, Nora,” she said, walking over to me. “That’s a matching pair with Marc’s. If it breaks, he’ll be absolutely devastated.” She took the sculpture from my hand and placed it back on her desk. I stared at her, my voice cold. “Is being a homewrecker something you’re proud of, Sandy?” She giggled, looking at me with amusement. “Homewrecker? Who is the intruder here, Nora? The third wheel is the one who doesn’t belong. So, tell me, who is the extra piece?” “Me? Marc?” She shook her head, a mocking glint in her eyes. “No. It’s you.” The anger that had been simmering inside me for months finally boiled over. I raised my hand and slapped her across the face. The force of the blow knocked her to the floor. She clutched her burning cheek, her eyes instantly filling with tears as she looked up at me. “Nora, how could you?” “I told you nothing was going on between Marc and me. Why won’t you believe us?” “You always call me an intruder, just like Sienna did at home…” I let out a harsh laugh. Right on cue, Marc appeared at the door. His face fell, and he immediately rushed over to pull Sandy into his arms, shielding her. “Nora! Have you lost your mind? I told you, Sandy and I are just friends! When are you going to stop being so paranoid?” He gently wiped her tears, his eyes full of worry. The sight of his tenderness toward her stung like a physical blow. “Do you blindly trust her, Marc? You don’t even ask what happened before deciding I’m the one in the wrong?” Seeing my eyes redden, Marc’s expression softened for a fraction of a second. But Sandy quickly cut in. “Nora, I promised I wouldn’t tell the professor about you forcing me to paint your graduation projects. Why are you still treating me like this?” My eyes widened in disbelief. “What did you say?” She was shamelessly twisting the truth. I was the one who had painted her projects. “Don’t push me, Nora! I didn’t want to say anything, but you’re leaving me no choice!” Sandy cried, her voice cracking with emotion. Marc’s gaze turned to pure disgust. “Since when did you become such a bully, Nora?” “I didn’t—” “Since you’re going to treat me like this, I have to report you to the department head,” Sandy said, showing her phone. She had a draft message open to the professor. My heart raced. I could not let her ruin my academic reputation right before I went abroad. If she reported me first, my brushstrokes were identical because I had painted her piece. I lunged forward to grab the phone. Marc shoved me back violently. I crashed into the desk. A glass mug shattered, and my right hand landed directly on the broken shards. Blood welled up instantly. “Are you trying to ruin me?” I gasped, cradling my bleeding hand. Marc froze, his hand dropping as he stared at me in silence. Sandy quickly added, “Marc, even if Nora wanted to hurt me, you shouldn’t have pushed her. But honestly, if her hand is ruined, how is she going to finish her projects? We’re about to graduate…” It sounded like she was worried, but she was just twisting the knife. Marc’s expression hardened again. “She tried to attack you! You’re too soft, Sandy. That’s why people walk all over you.” “What would you do without me?” Sandy played along. “Maybe… maybe I won’t tell the professor. We’re still supposed to open the gallery together, right?” Marc scoffs. “Art is sacred. If she cheated, she deserves the consequences. I’m going with you to the dean’s office.” He took her hand. I stood up, using my left hand to support myself. “Marc.” He stopped. “Is this your choice? You’re choosing Sandy?” He looks back, his eyes full of disappointment. “You’ve gone too far this time, Nora. I’m going to help Sandy settle this. You need to calm down. We shouldn’t see each other for a while.” They walked out hand-in-hand. I let out a cold laugh. “We won’t ever see each other again, Marc.” I sent him a final text: We’re over, Marc. And I’m out of the gallery. Then, I blocked his number. Meanwhile, Marc was comforting Sandy outside the dean’s office when his phone buzzed. He looked down, and his eyes widened in absolute shock. “What… how is this possible?!”

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My roommate hid her pregnancy in our dorm, claiming her family was too poor to know. I cared for her while urging her to avoid bearing a child out of wedlock and to leave her aggressive boyfriend. Instead, she ran to him, twisting my words. She told him I wanted her to dump him and get rid of their baby. After she lost the child, they lured me to the quiet woods behind campus. Her boyfriend drove a knife through my throat, snarling that no one came between them. He raged about my perfect family, my looks, my money, calling me a whore who deserved to rot. My soul hovered as my roommate stabbed my body until it was shredded, then ordered him to dismember and bury me. Every kindness I had shown was a humiliation she had nurtured into pure rot. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment she burst from our dorm bathroom, panicked and shaking. This time, I would make her choke on her own malice. 1. “What am I going to do, Hannah? I’m pregnant with Greg’s baby. I’m only nineteen.” Randi’s trembling voice echoed in my ears. I instinctively clutched my throat. There was no blood. The phantom sensation of a cold blade tearing through my windpipe was still terrifyingly vivid. I stared blankly at my surroundings as the familiar walls of the college dorm room came into focus. I had returned. I was reborn. “What am I going to do? My parents will literally kill me if they find out! But… but I love Greg so much!” Seeing my lack of response, Randi grabbed my arm and shook it violently. “Ow!” A sharp sting flared where her nails dug into my skin. I instinctively yanked my arm back. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Hannah! I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m just so panicked.” A flicker of confusion crossed her tear-stained face. She hadn’t expected me to pull away. Usually, I would have immediately wrapped her in a hug and whispered comforting words. “It’s fine. I know you didn’t mean to.” I suppressed the burning hatred clawing at my chest, forcing my voice to slide back into its usual warm, gentle tone. “You’re pregnant? But Randi, that’s beautiful! A baby is the ultimate proof of your love. You absolutely have to keep it.” “Wait… Hannah, what?” Randi stammered, looking utterly bewildered. “But… but I’m so young. Greg doesn’t even have a steady job, his temper is so unpredictable, and his family has zero money. If I have this baby now…” She looked down, her lower lip trembling, before raising her tear-filled, puppy-dog eyes to meet mine. She knew exactly how to play the victim to trigger my protective instincts. She couldn’t comprehend why my stance had suddenly flipped. Normally, I would have played the righteous older sister. I would have cursed Greg out, offered to pay for her clinic visit, and begged her to leave his toxic ass. A cold shudder ran down my spine. She knew perfectly well that Greg was a deadbeat. She wanted to use my mouth to justify the abortion, shifting the blame entirely onto me. That way, Greg’s violent wrath would target me, while she could play the grieving, devoted girlfriend who had been forced into it by her overbearing roommate. What a brilliant way to commit murder by proxy. Hiding my disgust, I smiled warmly. “You’re overthinking this, Randi. Haven’t you read the articles online? Having babies young means your body bounces back way faster!” “Sure, your boyfriend doesn’t have a house, a car, or a real job. But he loves you, right?” “And you two have been together for so long. Didn’t you always tell me that true love isn’t about material things? I know you’re not that superficial.” In my past life, Randi kept trying to set me up with Greg’s deadbeat, delinquent friends. When I repeatedly shut her down, she went around telling everyone I was a shallow gold-digger. Oh, she loved weaponizing moral standards against me. Two could play that game. A crack appeared in Randi’s carefully crafted facade. She stared at my face, trying to detect any hint of sarcasm, but she found nothing but pure, unadulterated sincerity. A flash of venomous irritation crossed her eyes before she quickly masked it with another soft sob. “But my parents will never agree to this. They’re expecting a massive dowry from my marriage to help my brother buy his apartment. Greg can’t afford that.” I reached out, gently taking her hand, and spoke with deep earnestness. “But you two share a soulmate connection. Didn’t you tell me that love conquers all? What’s a little financial hurdle compared to that? You just have to push through it together.” Those were the exact words she used to throw back at me every single time I tried to convince her to leave him. A sharp snort cut through the heavy silence of the room. We both turned toward the noise. It was Brooke, the girl from bed three. She had slipped back into the dorm unnoticed and was leaning against her desk, watching us with an amused smirk. She looked at me, raising an eyebrow. “Well, look at that. The princess finally woke up and grew a brain.” In my previous life, my misplaced savior complex made me jump to Randi’s defense constantly, which ended up alienating a lot of people. Brooke was the only one who openly scoffed at Randi’s victim act and called me an absolute idiot for falling for it. She was one of the very few who saw right through Randi’s angelic mask. “I… I guess I need to think about it,” Randi muttered, clearly thrown off. “Oh, by the way, Hannah, Greg said he’s driving over to the campus gates to pick me up. Can you please come with me?” Realizing she wasn’t getting the reaction she wanted, she was already pivoting to her backup plan. I clenched my jaw, a cold smile forming in my mind. In my past life, I had accompanied her to the gates. Right in front of Greg, Randi had tearfully confessed that I was the one forcing her to get an abortion. Greg had flown into a psychopathic rage, screaming at me at the campus gates while a crowd of students gathered to watch. Later, she had whimpered an apology, claiming she was just too terrified of his temper to tell him the truth. The very next day, an anonymous post blew up on the university forum. The title read: Campus Sweetheart Tries to Seduce Roommate’s Boyfriend, Gets Humiliated at Gates. The narrative quickly snowballed. Photos of me looking angry or defensive were edited and shared everywhere, turning me into a manipulative bully who harassed her poor, underprivileged roommate. Randi’s silence only fueled the fire. During that time, the psychological toll was unbearable. I couldn’t even step out of my dorm room. My social media accounts were doxxed, and my inbox was flooded with vicious, hateful messages from strangers wishing death upon me. Meanwhile, Randi became the internet’s favorite resilient underclass girl, pulling in sympathy, gifts, and attention from wealthy guys while keeping her toxic boyfriend on a leash. I had tried to trace the IP of the forum post back then, but the account was deleted almost immediately. Now it all made perfect sense. The only person who could have known my exact schedule and taken those perfectly timed photos was Randi. You really were a pathetic fool, I told my past self. But never again. I would return every single ounce of misery she inflicted on me, piece by piece. If she loved playing the innocent lamb so much, I would let her play it until the slaughter. Forcing a bright, eager smile onto my face, I looked at her. “Of course! Let’s go meet him together.” As we reached for the door, Brooke’s dry voice drifted over. “I’d stay out of her mess if I were you, Hannah. Keep playing the hero, and you’ll end up sold down the river.” 2. Outside the campus gates, a black Porsche was idling near the curb. Greg had rented it just to keep up appearances for Randi. “Babe!” The moment Randi spotted him, she practically threw herself at him, clinging to his chest like she had no spine of her own. To be fair, Greg was tall, and his violent, hyper-aggressive traits weren’t immediately obvious on his face. He looked decent enough. Because he tolerated Randi’s endless, dramatic tantrums, she genuinely believed she could control him. But a wild beast can never be truly tamed. I was going to teach her that lesson personally. “Why is she here?” Greg asked, his brow furrowing as he threw a look of pure disgust in my direction. “Oh, don’t be like that, babe. Hannah is my absolute best friend,” Randi pouted. She loved playing both sides. She complained about his anger issues to me, and then whispered to him about how snobbish and judgmental I was. It ensured we hated each other on sight. She had deliberately chosen the public gates today, hoping for an explosive argument. “Randi is pregnant now, Greg,” I said, stepping forward with a soft, yielding expression. “You need to take extra good care of her.” “Duh. I don’t need you to tell me how to treat my girl,” Greg sneered, though his chest puffed up with pride. “I’m going to cherish my queen and our little prince,” he added, looking down at Randi with a sudden burst of dramatic affection. They leaned in and began making out right there, completely ignoring the passing students. When they finally parted, Randi placed a hand over her flat stomach. “But babe, I don’t know if we can keep the baby. I looked it up online, and the doctors say there’s a really high chance the baby might inherit those aggressive traits you have.” Greg’s face darkened instantly. “If we have a kid, we keep it. Who cares about some stupid genetic theory? I turned out fine, didn’t I?” “It’s different,” Randi whined, cutting her eyes toward me. She was desperately signaling me to jump in and back her up. “Hannah is a pre-med student. Hannah, tell him. We shouldn’t keep the baby, right?” “Oh, you give me too much credit, Randi. I’m studying dentistry. We don’t cover prenatal genetics. If you want real answers, you have to go to a proper clinic. But you can’t get those tests done until the end of the first trimester, and by then, the baby will already be fully formed.” I smiled reassuringly. “Don’t stress too much. The chances of genetic inheritance are usually exaggerated anyway.” Randi’s jaw tightened. She was desperately trying to force the abortion narrative onto me, but I refused to take the bait. “See? She’s right,” Greg said, shooting me a rare look of approval. “You just wait, Randi. You’re going to be a stay-at-home wife, and I’m going to spoil you rotten.” “Okay… I guess we’ll wait and see,” Randi mumbled, her eyes flashing with irritation. She had no intention of keeping this child, but she couldn’t risk provoking Greg right now. “Besides,” I added helpfully, “our university offers accommodation adjustments and extra academic grace for pregnant students. You don’t even have to worry about rent. You can just stay in the dorms, which saves Greg from having to buy or lease an apartment for you.” “No apartment?” Greg’s ears perked up, his ego instantly bruised. “Randi, did you tell her we don’t have our own place?” “Oh, she told me everything, Greg,” I chirped. “She said things are tight right now, and that you don’t have a stable job or a car. She was actually hesitant about keeping the baby because of the financial strain, but she just loves you so much.” “Look at how devoted she is. Girls who aren’t materialistic are so rare these days. You’d better treat her right.” “Shut up!” Greg spat the words out, his jaw grinding so hard I could hear it click. His face was a mask of humiliated rage. His fragile, toxic masculinity could not handle being exposed as a broke loser in front of an attractive, wealthy classmate. “I’m asking you, Randi,” he growled, turning on her. “How much did you whine to her about me? Do you think I’m poor? Are you embarrassed of me?” “No! Babe, it’s not like that, let me explain!” Randi panicked, her mind racing as she realized the conversation had spun entirely out of her control. “Let’s talk in the car, okay? You know how much I love you.” She pleaded, grabbing his arm as a crowd of students began to linger and watch. “Oh my gosh, Randi, did I say something wrong?” I gasped, my eyes instantly welling with tears. “I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.” Seeing my tearful, fragile reaction, Randi couldn’t even yell at me without looking like the villain. Her face contorted with a silent, suffocating fury. “It’s fine. Just go back to the dorm, Hannah,” she said through gritted teeth, her nails digging into her own palms. The rented Porsche sped away from the curb. I didn’t expect to break them apart with one conversation. This was just about planting a seed of resentment in Greg’s volatile mind. Randi was about to learn that her devoted puppy had teeth. Over the next few days, I focused on my own life, preparing my application for a prestigious exchange program in London. In my past life, my death had stolen this opportunity from me. Randi stopped coming back to the dorm entirely. When she texted me demanding that I cover her attendance by pretending to be her in lectures, I simply ignored the messages.

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The day I became a janitor, my ex-boyfriend became the heir to a massive fortune. On the day of our reunion, he was wearing a bespoke suit and a luxury watch, radiating wealth. And me? I was diligently scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees with a rag. “Vivian, do you regret it?” I smiled at the handsome man before me. “If I say yes, will you give me a five-million-dollar buyout?” “You really are a shallow, materialistic woman!” Disgusted, Jeff kicked my rag far away and stormed off. The System mocked me in my head: “There is still time to win him back. Are you sure you want to give up?” 1. “A good horse doesn’t turn back for old grass. When I say I give up, I mean it.” Muttering to myself, I struggled to reach for the rag Jeff had kicked away. Ever since we broke up three months ago, my health had been rapidly declining. After taking several sick days, I was laid off from my office job. My landlady, worried I wouldn’t be able to afford rent, kindly hooked me up with this cleaning job at the luxury hotel. I scrubbed the grease stains off the floor, grunting with the effort. Just as I was heading to the restroom for a quick break, I turned around and saw Jeff again. Except this time, he had a girl wrapped in his arms. I recognized her from the tabloids. She was Melody, his fiancée, a high-society heiress. They looked like a match made in heaven. “Ugh, what is that smell? Jeff, is this your ex? Why does she smell like sour trash?” Melody gasped dramatically as she approached, taking a theatrical step back. The people passing by immediately covered their noses, shooting me looks of pure disgust. No matter how thick-skinned I tried to be, humiliation flushed my cheeks. I turned to walk away, but Jeff grabbed my wrist. His face wore a pleasant smile, but his voice was ice-cold. “I’m getting married. Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” My heart squeezed. I stared at him, a cocktail of bittersweet emotions swirling in my chest. The System’s voice echoed in my mind, dripping with sarcasm: “If you hadn’t called off the wedding back then, you’d be the one standing there.” “There’s still a chance. Take him back.” I ignored the System, forcing a polite smile. “Congratulations. I wish you two a long and happy life.” “Oh, by the way, since we used to be close, could you recommend me for a better job?” “You’re a billionaire heir now. I don’t ask for much. A job with a salary of three hundred thousand… no, let’s say five hundred thousand dollars a year. How about it?” The smile vanished from Jeff’s face. His gaze turned so sharp it felt like he wanted to pierce a hole right through me. “Keep dreaming.” He spun on his heel and marched off, only to stop after two paces and turn back. He wrapped his arm around Melody, kissing her hair tenderly. “Melody, starting today, you are my executive secretary. I’ll pay you ten million a year.” “You don’t even have to show up to work. Just keep your name on the payroll.” Melody blushed, planting a shy kiss on his cheek. “Oh, Jeff. I’m going to be your wife soon. I’d happily work for you for free.” “Wait, your hand just touched something dirty. Let me clean it for you.” She pulled a wet wipe from her designer bag, meticulously wiping his fingers. “Honestly, babe, your taste used to be so tragic.” “I’ve seen plenty of women like Vivian who will do absolutely anything for cash.” “She probably took this janitor job just to play the victim and make you feel bad. Don’t let her trick you again.” Jeff threw a repulsed look in my direction before pulling Melody away. “I woke up a long time ago. From now on, you’re the only one I care about.” Once they were gone, I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I locked myself in the restroom and sobbed quietly. The System sighed in frustration: “What are you crying for? Go after him! The moment you marry him, the tables will turn, and he will be the one crying.” 2. I ignored the System. After crying it out, I rinsed my rag, wrung out my mop, and went back to work. The custodial duties weren’t physically heavy, but the constant sweeping, mopping, and bending down to scrub stubborn stains took a heavy toll on my fragile body. By the end of the shift, I was utterly exhausted. Because my health had been deteriorating so rapidly, the moment I stepped out of the shopping mall, my vision went dark. I collapsed right onto the pavement, nearly hitting a sleek Bentley that had just parked nearby. Jeff opened the car door. Seeing me sprawled on the ground, he froze. His hand instinctively reached out to help me up, but he stopped himself mid-air, drawing back his fingers. “Vivian, cut the act. What kind of cheap stunt is this?” When I didn’t answer, he nudged my shoulder with the toe of his shoe. “Get up, or I’m having security drag you out of here.” I fluttered my eyes open, meeting his cold, disgusted gaze. My chest tightened. System, I pleaded in my mind, why do I keep running into him today? The System replied in a dry tone: This hotel complex is owned by his family. Technically, Jeff is your ultimate boss. Ah. That explained it. Melody stepped out from the passenger seat. Seeing me in this state, her lips curled into a sneer. “Well, well, Vivian. What kind of drama are you staging now?” “When you dumped Jeff back when he was penniless, did you ever imagine you’d end up like this?” “Look at you, begging on the streets like a stray dog. Are you really trying to play on his pity?” I didn’t say a word. I waited for the sharp wave of pain in my chest to subside before slowly pushing myself up. Pulling the rag from my pocket, I looked at Melody with total indifference. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just noticed the boss’s car had some dust on it, so I decided to clean it before my shift ended.” Jeff slammed the car door shut, pointing aggressively at his Bentley. “Fine. Since you love cleaning so much, don’t go home until every inch of my car is spotless.” “Otherwise, I will have you fired immediately.” I scoffed, looking him dead in the eye. “Sir, detailing a luxury vehicle is outside my job description. If you want that done, you’ll have to pay extra.” The System panicked: Why are you deliberately pushing him away? Do you know his affection level for you has dropped to twenty percent? As expected, my words made Jeff’s face turn impossibly dark. He pulled out his leather wallet, extracted a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills, and threw them right at my face. “Is this enough?” I forced back the tears prickling my eyes. Kneeling down to gather the scattered bills, I whispered, “Perfect. Thank you, boss.” But as I reached for the cash, another agonizing cramp seized my chest. The pain was so intense that I fell to my knees, panting heavily. Melody rolled her eyes, wrapping her arms around Jeff’s neck. “Oh, please. Look at her go. She belongs in Hollywood.” “Jeff, how did you ever get involved with someone so exhausting? It is pathetic.” “Honestly, she has great acting skills. Maybe we should fund an acting class for her so she can go win an Oscar.” The pain was tearing me apart. With no one else around to help, I swallowed my pride and looked up at the man standing over me. “Sir… please. Call an ambulance. I can’t breathe.” But Jeff only looked at me with deep, burning resentment. “Stop lying, Vivian! I know you. You used to run track in college without even breaking a sweat. How could you suddenly be this weak?” “For a second, I actually let myself believe you had a valid reason for leaving me. But you really are just a gold-digger.” “We are completely finished. I never want to see your face again.” He grabbed Melody’s hand and stormed into the hotel lobby without looking back. Oddly enough, the moment he disappeared from view, the crushing pain in my chest instantly vanished. The System spoke up: If you don’t complete the mission soon, this physical agony will worsen until it literally kills you within a month. By the way, his affection level just dropped below ten percent. If it hits zero, you won’t even get a month. You will vanish instantly. 3. The System tried to reason with me, its voice desperate: The man has clearly moved on, yet you still refuse to let go? I have never seen such an obstinate host. You spent ten years loving him, and just when you were on the verge of success, you threw it all away. All you had to do was say ‘I do’ at the altar, and you could have lived a long, happy life in this world. Why quit at the finish line? Are you insane? Do you know what happened to the last host who fell in love with an NPC? She was erased. Erased from existence forever. I smiled faintly. But if I had married him, Jeff would have died. I didn’t want him to die. The System went dead silent, too frustrated to speak. In my previous life, I was abandoned at an orphanage, living a cold, lonely existence for decades. After I died, I became a traveler, and Jeff was my first target. For ten years in this world, he protected me, shielded me, and showered me with warmth. He melted the icy walls around my heart. Three months ago, when he proposed to me, I couldn’t help but say yes. But on the very day I accepted, his health began to fail rapidly for no medical reason. On the eve of our wedding, his face was terrifyingly pale, and he could barely stand. Yet, he still insisted on holding the ceremony. He told me it was his promise to me, and he would fulfill it even if it killed him. To keep him alive, I had no choice but to construct a lie. I pretended to be a superficial, money-hungry woman, took his savings, and walked out of his life. In this universe, Jeff gave me a home. He gave me the courage to live, and he taught me how to love. He was a truly good man. Even when we were struggling, he would donate to charity and rescue stray animals. A man like him deserved to live. I had lived long enough in my past life. If there was only one chance at survival, I wanted him to have it. Even if he hated me now, even if he loved someone else, I just wanted him to have a long, peaceful life. With that thought, the lingering ache in my heart seemed to ease. Since the System said I only had a month left, I would spend it slipping away quietly. The next morning, I went to the hotel lobby to submit my resignation. I had worked there for over two months, so I was owed a few thousand dollars in back pay. If I budgeted carefully, it would be enough to buy pain medication to last me until the end. My supervisor was a kind man. Knowing my health was poor, he signed my exit paperwork without any fuss. But when I went to the accounting office to collect my paycheck, a phone call from Melody blocked me. Even through the receiver, her voice dripped with malicious triumph. “Oh, Vivian, I’m so sorry. When we took the Bentley for a tune-up today, the mechanic found a major scratch on the hood.” “We know you did it yesterday when you were faking that little collapse. We are withholding your final paycheck, and you owe us an additional two hundred thousand dollars for repairs.” “Don’t complain. Jeff’s car costs millions and it’s brand new. That is the standard market rate for repairs.” My head spun, and I leaned against the desk for support. “I don’t have that kind of money.” The moment the words left my mouth, Jeff’s mocking voice cut through the line. “Three months ago, you abandoned me on my deathbed and ran off with twenty thousand dollars of my savings.” His voice was thick with hatred. “Vivian, how dare you stand there and claim you have no money?” I didn’t argue. I simply turned and walked toward the exit. The receptionist called out nervously behind me, “Vivian, Miss Melody said you have to sign a promissory note before you can leave!” I looked back and smiled faintly. “Tell them to come get it themselves.” I hadn’t even touched his car when I fell yesterday. This was a blatant frame-up by Melody, and I refused to take responsibility for a lie. I quickened my pace, but before I could reach the lobby, several security guards rushed out from the elevators. They grabbed my arms roughly, pinning them behind my back like I was a common criminal. “Miss Melody said a woman was causing a scene up here. Is this her?” “Come on, sweetheart, you look like a decent girl. Don’t resort to trashy scam artist tricks.” “Stop talking to her. Get her out of here.” No matter how hard I struggled, I couldn’t break free from their iron grips. The commotion drew a crowd of office workers from the surrounding rooms, all eager to watch the drama unfold. With my arms pinned painfully behind my back, I felt utterly humiliated. “Let me go! I’m not causing a scene, I can walk out on my own!” But they ignored my protests, dragging me roughly across the polished marble floor. During the struggle, one of my shoes was stepped on and came off. My bare foot scraped against the cold, hard floor, sending a sharp sting through my toes. The crowd watched with sneers and whispers. I felt like a stray rat being hunted in broad daylight. Tears finally spilled over my cheeks. “Please… just let me put my shoe on.” But they kept dragging me, relentless and deaf to my pleas. Just when I thought no one would help me, a low, commanding voice cut through the whispers. “Stop.” Through a blur of tears, I watched Jeff walk toward me. He picked up my discarded shoe, knelt down on the cold floor without a word, and gently slipped it onto my foot. He looked up, his eyes containing a layer of frozen pain. “Does it hurt? My heart hurt a thousand times worse when you left.” “Vivian, I hope this is the absolute last time we ever meet.” The spectators whispered among themselves. What did this mean? Melody quickly stepped forward, wrapping her arm around Jeff’s. “Oh, you guards are so clumsy. Didn’t you know she used to be close with Jeff?” “Even though she betrayed him for money, you still shouldn’t treat a lady so roughly.” Hearing this, the guards immediately let go of me. Without their support, my weak knees buckled, and I collapsed onto the floor. The hallway erupted into gossip. “Wait, that custodian was actually the CEO’s ex-girlfriend?” “She dumped him for cash? That is so cheap.” “She looks so quiet and sweet, but she’s actually a total gold-digger.” “Well, she got what she deserved. She is sweeping floors while he rules the business world.” Their poisonous words pierced my chest like needles. A wave of dizziness washed over me, and a metallic taste rose in my throat. At that exact moment, the System’s voice echoed in my head: Warning, Jeff’s affection level has officially reached zero percent. Your erasure is beginning… Before the System could finish, I coughed violently, spraying a pool of dark red blood onto the pristine white floor. Someone in the crowd shrieked, “Oh my God! She is coughing up blood! Is she dying?” Staring at the crimson stain on the marble, my vision began to fade, and my eyelids grew heavy. Jeff, who had been walking away, spun around at the sound of the scream. When he saw me lying in a pool of blood, his face went completely pale. His body trembled, and a desperate, shattered cry tore from his throat: “Vivian!”

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Five years into my marriage with Elvis, I discovered he was keeping a college girl on the side. She was pure and naive, carrying the sweet innocence of someone who hadn’t yet been touched by the real world. Elvis was absolutely besotted with her. When I finally caught them in the act, everyone expected me to scream, cry, and throw tantrums, doing everything in my power to run the girl off. But I didn’t. Instead, I tracked her down, took her trembling hand in mine, and smiled warmly. “Sweetheart, how about we destroy this piece of trash together?” 1. Three days after catching my husband, Elvis, in bed with his little mistress, I scheduled a meeting with her. She was sitting in the private booth, crying so pitifully that even the cold-hearted would feel a pang of sympathy. Clearly, she was still reeling from the devastating shock of discovering Elvis was married. “Mrs. Sprinkle, I’m so sorry. I swear I didn’t know. I had no idea he was married. I didn’t mean to be a homewrecker, please…” Wanda’s eyes were red and swollen, her voice breaking into quiet, desperate hiccups. Before I could even open my mouth, she fell to her knees right in front of me. “But I really do love him, ma’am. I know it’s wrong, I know I’m guilty. You can slap me, scream at me, do whatever you want, but please… please don’t force me to leave him.” I stared down at her in silence. The tension grew thicker by the second, and Wanda’s resolve began to crumble under my quiet gaze. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her head drooping. “I’m so sorry. I’ll leave him. I’ll go.” Hearing those words, a soft smile finally spread across my face. She was young and deeply infatuated, but she wasn’t completely beyond saving. I reached out, taking her hands in mine, and spoke gently. “Sweetheart, I haven’t even said a word. Why do you assume I want you to leave Elvis? What if I actually want you to stay right by his side?” Wanda stopped crying, blinking up at me in utter bewilderment. I leaned in, whispering softly right against her ear, guiding her thoughts like a gentle temptation. “There are plenty of fish in the sea, Wanda. Why waste your life on a piece of lying trash?” “How about we destroy him together?” She swallowed hard, staring at me blankly. “What do you mean?” My marriage to Elvis was nothing more than a strategic business merger. Years ago, when Elvis was still a penniless kid with nothing but ambition, my father took a liking to him. With my father’s extensive financial backing, Elvis managed to carve out his own business empire. Since my father and Elvis were bound by shared financial interests, a marital alliance was the perfect way to cement the deal. Naturally, I became the sacrificial lamb, walking down the aisle to marry him. During the first few years, Elvis needed to solidify his position and expand his territory, so he played the part of the devoted, doting husband perfectly in front of my father and me. But as his company grew, his true colors began to bleed through. It didn’t take long for him to find this sweet, naive college student. Wanda had just stepped out into the real world. Seduced by a wealthy, charming CEO who kept his marriage a secret, she had fallen headfirst into the beautiful fairy tale he had spun for her. Until three days ago, when the illusion shattered. And for me? I had absolutely no intention of playing the quiet, ignored wife anymore. So, I sought Wanda out. “I mean exactly what I said. Elvis lied to you about his marriage. Even after the truth came out, he whispered sweet empty promises of love just to keep you around as his dirty secret, ruining your reputation. He took your body and your heart, and in the end, you won’t even get a legal name.” “Why keep a man like that around? While he is still filthy rich, you should take his money, break his heart, and walk away with your head held high. It is time to give him a taste of his own medicine.” Wanda stared at me, completely stunned. “You are… very different from how Elvis described you.” I smirked. “And how did he describe me? Let me guess. Gentle, submissive, completely obedient, and only caring about being a quiet housewife?” Wanda nodded slowly. “Men are so arrogant. So, what do you think? Do you want to partner with me?” “But… Elvis said he loves me. He said he would divorce you, and then…” “You actually believe a man’s sweet talk? A promise is the cheapest currency in the world.” Seeing the lingering hesitation in her eyes, I knew she needed time to process this massive revelation. I smiled warmly, my eyes curving into crescents. “Tell you what, sweetheart. I will give you a week to think about it. Next week, same time, same place. I will be waiting for your answer.” I picked up my designer bag and stood up, leaving the booth. A week would be more than enough time for Wanda to see Elvis’s true colors. 2. When I got home that evening, a massive bouquet of blue roses was sitting quietly on the living room table. I glanced at it indifferently. It was Elvis’s classic, predictable apology tactic. The sound of clattering pans drifted from the kitchen, and soon, Elvis walked out carrying a tray of freshly cooked dishes. “Darling, I saw these blue roses on my way home and thought they would look beautiful on you, so I bought them.” I didn’t say a word, keeping my eyelashes lowered as I sat quietly on the sofa, playing the role of a deeply wounded, grieving wife. “Darling, I am so sorry. I was temporarily blinded by temptation. Wanda seduced me, but I have already cut ties with her completely. I swear I will never speak to her again.” Elvis held up three fingers, swearing to the heavens with an incredibly earnest look on his handsome face. I turned my head away, letting my hair fall forward to hide the pure disgust in my eyes. My voice sounded muffled and fragile. “Elvis, I understand. It doesn’t matter if you cut ties with her or not. But the project you are collaborating on with my father is at a critical stage. If a scandal breaks out right now, I’m worried about how my father might react…” Elvis valued his career above all else. Hearing this, his face darkened slightly. He reached out to pat my hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry. Whether it is for my career or for you, I will never have anything to do with Wanda again.” But Wanda was a programming prodigy. She had practically built the core database for his current project. With the project only halfway finished, there was no way Elvis could actually afford to let her go. I smiled secretly. Soon, Wanda would realize that in Elvis’s heart, she would never, ever come first. After dinner, Elvis’s phone rang. He claimed there was an emergency at the office and rushed out to work overtime, not returning home for several days. Meanwhile, the private investigator I hired kept sending me constant updates. Elvis’s project had run into a massive crisis. A corrupt employee had leaked their core data to a competitor, and it was Wanda who had worked tirelessly through the night to save the project from total ruin. Naturally, their bond grew even tighter. The investigator sent photos of them holding hands at an amusement park, kissing on a Ferris wheel, and Elvis gifting her a diamond necklace worth millions. Every image was proof of their intimate affair. When the project finally launched successfully, Elvis was invited to give a keynote speech. He stood on the stage, looking radiant and speaking eloquently. “And here, I have someone very special to thank. She has given me immense support, staying by my side to encourage me through my darkest hours. She is…” Elvis’s eyes drifted toward the front row, where Wanda was sitting. Right on cue, I walked through the back doors of the auditorium, gently holding my father’s arm. The moment Elvis spotted me, the words died in his throat. He quickly cleared his throat, pivoting seamlessly. “…she is my lovely wife, Victoria Sprinkle.” The spotlight instantly shifted to me. I wore a sweet, gentle smile as I accompanied my father to our reserved seats. From across the room, Wanda glared at me with a mixture of resentment and heartbreak. She knew exactly what had happened. Elvis had changed his words because of my sudden arrival. The person he wanted to thank in front of the world was her, but he chose his survival instead. After the speech, there was a grand banquet. Naturally, Elvis had to take me as his date. While I was changing into my evening gown in the dressing room, my phone buzzed repeatedly. I knew they were messages from Wanda, but I didn’t reply. There was a much larger surprise waiting for her tonight. After all, today was my birthday. And Elvis was never one to waste such a perfect PR opportunity. 3. Elvis loved playing the part of the devoted husband in public, especially when my father was around to watch. At the banquet, Elvis and I danced the opening waltz. Afterward, a crowd of prominent businessmen gathered around us. One of the executives teased him with a smile. “Elvis, where is that clever little assistant of yours? You’ve been running around with her all week. I almost misunderstood your relationship. But seeing your beautiful wife tonight, I realize what a perfect match looks like. You two are truly made for each other.” Elvis laughed, wrapping his arm tightly around my waist. “Oh, you flatter me. Let me clarify, she is strictly an assistant. Victoria is the only one who holds my heart.” “If she hears you say things like that, she might get jealous.” I leaned against his shoulder, playing the part of a shy, blushing wife. Beneath the table, my phone was recording the entire conversation, broadcasting it in real-time to Wanda, who was listening on the other end of an open call. As the banquet neared its end, Elvis led me to the third-floor balcony. “Victoria, happy birthday. I have a surprise for you.” He gently covered my eyes, releasing his hands just as the first firework exploded into the night sky. The heavens erupted in brilliant colors, forming hearts and silhouettes of a couple embracing. Below, giant LED screens on the surrounding buildings scrolled with birthday wishes for me. I knew that by tomorrow morning, this grand gesture would dominate the local social media trends. While I stood there staring at the sky, Elvis stepped up behind me, draping a magnificent purple diamond necklace around my neck. “I bought this at a private auction. It is worth millions.” “What a… beautiful surprise,” I whispered. Just a few days ago, the private investigator had sent me a picture of an almost identical necklace Elvis had bought. The only difference was the gemstone. The emerald version was currently sitting in Wanda’s jewelry box. “Do you like your surprise, darling?” Elvis’s dark eyes were incredibly soulful, staring at me with a depth of affection that could easily make anyone believe he was madly in love. He was like that. When he wanted to charm someone, he would spare no expense, whispering the sweetest lies and showering them with thoughtful gifts. Very few girls could escape his gentle traps. That was how Wanda had fallen. And years ago, I had almost been blinded by it too. Fortunately, I had finally woken up. “I love it, Elvis. Thank you.” Once the banquet officially ended, Elvis was dragged out to a nightclub by his wealthy friends for a second round of drinking. Free at last, I went to meet Wanda. She was standing outside her apartment building, her eyes red and her makeup ruined by tears. “I don’t believe it,” she sobbed the moment she saw me. “He had no choice. He only said those things to appease your father and protect his business.” I sighed. The girl was painfully stubborn. I grabbed her arm and hailed a taxi. “If you think he was forced, then come with me and listen to what he says when he thinks no one is watching.” Inside the cab, I handed her some wet wipes. “Clean your face. I don’t want your smeared makeup blocking your view of his true face.” Wanda didn’t say a word, silently dabbing at her cheeks. I knew that after tonight, she would make her choice. 4. The taxi pulled up in front of a high-end, exclusive club, its neon signs flashing brilliantly in the dark. “What is Elvis doing here?” Wanda asked. She had only ever seen the refined, hardworking version of Elvis. I led her inside, and a well-tipped waiter quietly guided us to the hallway outside a private VIP suite. Through the heavy mahogany door, the loud voices of the men inside drifted out clearly. “You mean Wanda?” Elvis’s voice was relaxed, laced with a smug chuckle. “She is just a little plaything on the side. She has no family background, no connections. Why would I ever marry her?” “It’s just been a while since I met someone so simple and naive. I wanted to have a little fun. Besides, I need her to keep programming for my project. She is far more useful than those overpriced, arrogant consultants out there. She’s just a student, so she doesn’t even ask for a raise. She is the perfect, cheap tool.” As a waitress opened the door to deliver a fresh round of champagne, I caught a glimpse of Elvis inside. He was lounging on a leather sofa, surrounded by a cloud of cigar smoke, with several scantily clad women leaning against his chest. “Ever since Victoria found out about us, Wanda has been trying to break up with me,” Elvis boasted to his friends, taking a sip of his drink. “But I just took her to the amusement park, bought her a few shiny trinkets, whispered some sob stories about my difficult position, and she believed every word. It is hilarious how gullible some girls can be.” Wanda couldn’t take it anymore. She spun around and ran out of the club, tears streaming down her face. By the time I caught up to her, she was crouching by the curb, sobbing hysterically. I stood beside her silently, letting her cry it out. “I have never seen him smoke,” she whispered between sobs, her voice shaking. “Around me, he was always so refined, so gentle, taking care of every little detail. I thought that was who he really was.” “He wore a mask the entire time, and I was too stupid to see through it. Even after I found out he was married, I stayed by his side, believing his pathetic excuses. I am such an idiot.” She was crying so hard her nose was running. I handed her a pack of tissues. “We all make mistakes. What matters is that you woke up before it was too late.” “So, are you ready to partner with me now?” “And if you still have any doubts, check the warm milk he makes for you every night. It is spiked with crushed birth control pills. He doesn’t want you getting pregnant, and he is willing to ruin your body to ensure it.” Wanda wiped her nose and stood up, her tear-stained face hardening. “Victoria, I believe you. But before we start, I have one question.” “Ask.” “When you first met me, you laid out your entire plan without hesitation. Weren’t you afraid I would run straight to Elvis and expose you?” I stepped closer, pressing a finger to my lips, a cold, victorious glint in my eyes. “Because of one simple rule, Wanda. Girls help girls.”

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1 My sister, Bethany, was always praised for being a big-hearted saint. Ever since we were kids, she lectured me about taking things easy and not sweating the small stuff. When a coworker swapped my winning scratch-off card during lunch and claimed the cash, Bethany told me to let it go. “You work together, Paige,” she’d said. “Don’t be petty.” When her husband stumbled into my bedroom dead drunk and tried to lay his hands on me, she wept and begged for my sympathy, crying about how hard marriage was and asking me to ignore it for her sake. Yet, when our mother wore one of her coats home and forgot to return it, Bethany drove over in the middle of the night to demand it back, completely forgetting her own golden rule. That was when I finally saw her for what she was and cut her off. She brushed it off, of course, telling everyone I was just making a mountain out of a molehill. Years later, her husband cleaned out their bank accounts to buy a condo for his mistress, and her own son accused her of abuse, choosing to live with his grandmother rather than step foot in her house. She came to me on her knees, sobbing for help. I knew exactly what was happening, but I simply patted her head, mimicking the exact empty comfort she used to give me, and smiled. “It’s just a minor setback, Bethany. Don’t sweat the small stuff.” On the day my coworker stole my winning ticket, Bethany was right there with us. We were at a local diner when I scratched off a five-thousand-dollar winner. I went to the restroom for two minutes, and when I came back, my coworker, Sarah, had swapped the cards. She looked me dead in the eye and claimed the winning ticket was hers. Blood rushed to my face. I was furious, and I wasn’t about to play nice. “Cut the crap, Sarah,” I snapped. “You know exactly what you did. To put it bluntly, that’s theft.” But Sarah didn’t even blink. She shot back, entirely unbothered, “It’s just five grand, Paige. Why are you acting so dramatic? If this is theft, then anyone who finds a dollar on the street belongs in prison! The ticket is in my hand, so the money is mine. Do I really need to spell it out for you?” The diner was packed. Our argument quickly drew a crowd, with people whispering and taking sides. Some defended me, while others backed Sarah. Bethany just stood to the side, silent as a statue, watching the drama unfold like she was a spectator at a movie. The cashier at the counter was getting annoyed by the scene. Eager to clear the lobby, he stepped in to mediate. “Alright, folks, let’s break it up. It’s five grand, not a million dollars.” He looked at the three of us. “You guys bought these tickets together, right? Since both of you claim it’s yours, let’s ask the third person. She was here the whole time. Whatever she says goes, deal?” I had no issue with that. I wasn’t even thinking about the sisterly bond. The facts were simple: I had bought all three scratch-offs, and I was the one who uncovered the winning numbers. Bethany was the eyewitness. She knew the truth, so backing me up wasn’t favoritism; it was just stating a fact. Sarah immediately protested. “No way! They’re sisters. I’m the outsider here. Obviously, she’s going to take her sister’s side. That’s basically giving away my money!” Her words swayed the crowd. Murmurs of agreement rippled through the onlookers. In any normal situation, blood runs thicker than water, and people assumed Bethany would lie for me. Even I felt a bit self-conscious, assuming deep down that Bethany would naturally back me. But I was totally unprepared for what came out of her mouth next. “I think you guys are being deeply unfair, judging us based on assumptions,” Bethany said, flashing a small, apologetic smile to the crowd. Then, she turned her eyes to me. “Since you’re asking me, I have to be honest. My sister didn’t win that prize. Does that answer satisfy everyone?” 2 The slight curve of Bethany’s lips felt like a slap in the face. It was a bizarre mix of people-pleasing and quiet defiance. I stood there, utterly paralyzed, my mind going completely blank. The cashier gave us a brief look and shrugged. “Alright, since we have an eyewitness, I’ll pay out the prize to the holder. Whatever issues you have after you leave this counter are on you.” My scalp prickled. I couldn’t move, frozen under the weight of the whispers and mocking glances of the crowd. I watched Sarah step up to the register, claim the cash, and wave the bills in my face with a triumphant smirk. I couldn’t even summon the energy to glare back. “See? Your own sister wouldn’t lie to cover for you,” Sarah crowed, slipping the bills into her purse. “Tell you what, I won’t hold this against you. I don’t want a few grand ruining our friendship. I’ll Venmo you fifty bucks later for lunch, okay?” A scream built up in my throat, but with my own sister betraying me, I had no defense. I was branded the greedy liar in the eyes of everyone in that diner. Sarah walked out of the diner with a spring in her step. Bethany grabbed my arm and pulled me out into the crisp, chilly autumn air. The cold wind shocked me back to reality. When I looked at her, she had this gentle, patronizing expression, as if she had just saved my soul and I was being ungrateful. “I know you’re upset, Paige, but making a scene in front of all those people wasn’t going to solve anything,” she said, her voice dripping with sweet reason. “Did you see how aggressive they were getting? If I had sided with you, they probably wouldn’t have let us leave without a fight. “Besides, Sarah is leaving the company next week anyway. Just think of the five grand as a parting gift. You guys are colleagues, there’s no need to sweat the small stuff. Making a scene benefits no one.” Seeing my stony silence, she added, “If it really bothers you that much, I can give you five grand from my own pocket. Okay?” She made it sound so simple. She was barely scraping by, so how could I possibly take her money? Bethany had been sickly since childhood. Even though she was the older sister, I was the one who always took care of her. She hated conflict and always pacified everyone around her, constantly whispering in my ear to let it go and not be petty, claiming it was for my own good. Every time I tried to argue, she would start crying, leaving me completely helpless. I had no choice but to swallow my anger and frustration. “Whatever, keep your money,” I muttered, brushing her hand off. “I don’t want it. What’s done is done. It’s just money, I can earn it back.” Back then, I didn’t realize that playing the victim is often the ultimate power play. 3 Bethany lived in a sleepy little suburb outside the city. She had traveled downtown for some medical tests and brought her husband, Frank, to crash at my apartment. I had been against her marriage from the start. Frank’s mother was a domineering nightmare, and Frank himself was a lazy, useless man who never lifted a finger for Bethany. The worst incident happened during Thanksgiving when she brought Frank’s family to our mother’s house. Right in front of Mom, her mother-in-law began screaming at Bethany, boastfully claiming that even in Bethany’s childhood home, she had every right to slap her or berate her as she pleased. The woman’s sheer arrogance made my blood boil. Unable to take it, I slammed my hand on the table and tore into her mother-in-law. But instead of standing up for herself, Bethany grabbed my arm, practically bowing to the woman to apologize. Later, she turned to me and whispered, “It’s fine, Paige. We’re family. Don’t sweat the small stuff.” Even Mom agreed, saying that since the knot was tied, starting a war wouldn’t do Bethany any favors. Furious, I packed my bags and stayed at a friend’s place for three days, refusing to speak to either of them until after the holidays. Even though that incident was water under the bridge, I still couldn’t stand the sight of Frank. Seeing him lounge around my apartment, eating my food and leaving a trail of mess, only fueled my irritation. The scratch-off incident still left a bitter taste in my mouth. No matter how noble Bethany’s lectures sounded, I needed space. The next day, I chose not to join them for dinner. Bethany wanted to go shopping, and Frank, true to form, refused to accompany her. By the time I got home from work, the apartment was empty. Exhausted, I crashed on my bed and fell fast asleep. Sometime later, I was violently jolted awake by hands groping my shoulders. The smell of cheap beer filled the air. With a terrified shriek, I threw myself out of bed and flipped the light switch. The harsh glow of the overhead light revealed Frank standing by my bed, a disgusting, drunken grin plastered across his face. He tried to step closer, his eyes glazed with lust. Shaking with raw terror and fury, I swung my arm and delivered a hard slap across his face. “Do you know where you are? Who I am?!” I yelled. Frank barely flinched. He rubbed his cheek, his smile turning sleazy. “Of course I know. You’re my beautiful little sister-in-law. And I’ve wanted to get in your bed for a long time.” My stomach churned. A second ago, I was trying to rationalize it, hoping he was just drunk and had mistaken my room for his. But this was no mistake. He was a predator. Bethany wasn’t back yet. I screamed for help, but my voice only echoed off the empty walls. My heart hammered against my ribs as I tried to keep the bed between us. “Frank, if you lay one more finger on me, I swear to God I will put you in a cell for the rest of your life!” But my threats only seemed to fuel him. He chuckled, a low, guttural sound. “God, you’ve got fire. Way sexier than your sister.” He took a heavy step forward. “Go ahead, call the cops. But I’ll get what I want first. Besides, with Bethany around, do you really think she’ll let you press charges?” Cold horror washed over me, draining the strength from my legs. I slipped to the floor, my hands scraping against the carpet as I scrambled backward, watching him close the distance.

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1 Dad left me behind at preschool again. All because of my godmother’s daughter. I sobbed into the phone as I called Mom. “Mom, please come get me. I’m sorry, I promise I won’t fight with Vivian for Dad’s attention anymore.” Mom rushed over, scooping up my shivering, rain-soaked body and carrying me into the car. I curled into a ball, whispering my apology. “I’m sorry, Mom. I was the one who told Vivian that Dad took us to the aquarium. That’s why she threw a tantrum and demanded he take her, too.” Mom froze, the towel halting against my wet hair. “Are you telling me Finn left you stranded in the middle of a hurricane warning just to take Valerie’s daughter to the aquarium?” Valerie was Mom and Dad’s close friend, and my godmother. Mom used to say that the bond between the three of them was worth more than gold. So even when Dad abandoned us time and time again to run to Valerie and Vivian’s side, Mom never uttered a single word of complaint. Seeing Mom’s face darken, I frantically waved my little hands. “It’s okay! I’m just not used to it yet. I mean, Dad leaves you behind all the time, and you’re always fine. I’ll be fine too, once I get used to it.” Mom froze. After a long silence, a faint, sad smile touched her lips. “Then this time, let’s leave Dad behind. We won’t wait for him anymore.” … My eyes lit up. “Really? Can we have spicy Buffalo chicken wings tonight? The really spicy kind?” Mom’s smile grew bitter. She gently stroked my hair and nodded. “From now on, we’ll eat whatever we want. We don’t have to walk on eggshells for anyone else.” I took after Mom. We both loved spicy food. But Aunt Valerie and Vivian couldn’t tolerate even a hint of spice. Whenever we had group dinners, every single dish on the table had to be incredibly bland. I once whispered to Mom, asking why we couldn’t just order one dish we actually liked. Mom glanced at Dad, who was busy piling food onto Valerie’s plate, and offered me an apologetic smile. “When we get home, I’ll make it just for you.” Mom’s cooking was the best in the world. Once, I shared my leftover spicy chicken with Vivian, who kept begging for a bite. I didn’t expect her to turn red and choke, gasping for air. After that day, Dad banned all spicy food from our house. Swinging my legs on the chair, I decided that not waiting for Dad was the best thing ever. True to her word, Mom made me a big plate of fiery chicken as soon as we got home. But before I could even pick up my fork, the front door clicked open and Dad walked in. He frowned, his eyes narrowing in disapproval. “Didn’t I tell you not to cook such heavy, spicy food in this house?” Mom calmly scooped some rice into my bowl, her expression placid. “Stella wanted it, so I made it for her. Besides, it’s not like you can’t eat spicy food.” I blinked, suddenly remembering that Dad actually loved spicy food. It was just that whenever Aunt Valerie was around, both Mom and Dad always catered entirely to her preferences. Seeing my damp, dripping hair, Dad’s tone softened slightly. “Just this once. Don’t make it again.” He fetched a dry towel from the bathroom and gently began drying my hair. “Today was an emergency, Stella. You have to understand your dad. “You know how hard it is for your godmother to raise Vivian all on her own after her divorce. We should help out wherever we can. You need to be the bigger person and let Vivian have her way sometimes.” I was about to nod obediently when Mom suddenly pulled me into her embrace. She stared at Dad, her voice cold and flat. “If you want to play hero for them, that’s your business. Leave Stella out of it.” The loud roar of the hairdryer drowned out the rest of their conversation. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could see the sour look on Dad’s face. Hearing me sneeze a few times, Dad let out a weary sigh. “I went too far this time. It won’t happen again. “But today was Vivian’s birthday. Her only wish was to go to the aquarium. As adults, we have to make sure children’s wishes come true.” I muttered under my breath, “That’s a lie. She told me her birthday wish was for you to be her real dad.” Dad froze, his body stiffening as he snapped, “What nonsense are you talking about?!” Frightened by his sharp tone, tears welled up in my eyes, and my voice grew louder. “I heard her! When she called you Dad, you answered! “And she said she wished you and Aunt Valerie would be together, and you didn’t even say no!” Mom quietly wiped away my tears without saying a word. Dad panicked, reaching out to touch my shoulder. “It’s just a game kids play, Stella. Don’t take it seriously. “Summer, we’ve known Valerie for a lifetime. If there were anything between us, it would have happened years ago. I’m just helping a dear friend pull through a rough patch. You understand me, don’t you?” Mom’s eyes rimmed with red, her voice dripping with years of quiet heartbreak. “Of course I understand. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have spent my third trimester taking care of her while she was recovering from childbirth.” Mom had told me that Aunt Valerie had a terrible time delivering Vivian. The moment her ex-husband’s family found out it was a girl, they abandoned her at the hospital without even looking at the baby. While Valerie was drowning in divorce lawyers and diaper changes, it was Mom, six months pregnant with me, who cooked her meals and cleaned her house, making sure Valerie stayed healthy. Meanwhile, Mom lost weight from the sheer exhaustion, nearly fainting on the street from low blood sugar. Mom let out a hollow laugh, her lips curling into a bitter smile. “Which is why I don’t understand. I treated her like a sister. Why does she keep taking it out on my daughter?” Dad’s expression soured. “It was just a rainy day, Summer. You’re blowing this way out of proportion.” Mom gripped her fork so hard her knuckles turned white. She took a deep, shaky breath, pulled out her phone, and opened her social media feed. The latest post was from Valerie: “With you two, I finally know what happiness feels like.” The attached photo showed Dad holding Vivian in his arms, smiling warmly next to Valerie at the aquarium. The comments below were from people I knew all too well, my grandparents. “Vivian is such a beautiful girl,” my grandmother had commented. “You three look like a real family. You’re a thousand times better than the daughter-in-law we got.” My grandfather added: “Your mother and I always thought you were the perfect match for Finn. What a shame some people just got lucky.” Even some of Mom’s mutual friends had liked the post, commenting on how great they looked together. Mom held up the glowing screen, her smile dead. “They think you’re a family. So what are Stella and I to you?” Dad rubbed his temples, his face lined with irritation. “You know how my parents are. They just speak their minds without thinking. Why are you letting it get to you?” He paused, glancing at the screen, and his face hardened. “Go ahead and unlike the post. Valerie will get anxious if she sees you noticed. “Remember when you liked her post of her trying on wedding dresses? She was so worried you were mad at her that she almost skipped our wedding.” Mom had told me that her wedding was delayed by three hours. It wasn’t because of the venue or the weather. Valerie had gone missing right before the ceremony, and Dad had abandoned his own bride to search for her for three agonizing hours. And Mom had stood there, wearing a custom-made gown that Valerie had already tried on, waiting in an empty chapel for three hours. Remembering this, I gently tugged at Mom’s sleeve. “Mom, you should probably unlike it. If Aunt Valerie gets upset, Dad will leave you behind again.” Dad flinched, the memory of the wedding finally piercing through his defensiveness. “I didn’t mean it like that, Stella. I just don’t want any misunderstandings.” Mom turned off the screen and carried me into the bedroom, closing the door behind us. “It doesn’t matter. Let her think whatever she wants.” Outside, the sky turned a deep, bruised purple, with distant lightning flickering through the heavy clouds. Dad knocked softly and walked in, carrying a warm glass of milk for Mom. “There’s a bad storm coming. Stay here with Stella.” Mom’s hand froze as she took the glass. Dad cleared his throat, avoiding her eyes. “You know how terrified Valerie is of thunder. I need to go over and make sure she’s okay.” I opened my mouth, wanting to scream at Dad that Mom was terrified of thunder too. But Mom squeezed my hand, her voice soft and emotionless. “Go then.” Dad frowned, looking slightly taken abashed. But before he could speak, his phone rang loudly. Vivian’s frantic voice echoed through the speaker. “Finn! Why aren’t you here yet? Mommy is crying, she’s so scared!” Valerie’s soft, breathless voice drifted through the line. “Vivian, stop it. Don’t bother Finn. I’m so sorry, Finn. I’m fine, really. Stay with Summer. I know she’s terrified of storms too.” Dad paused, a flicker of guilt crossing his face as he remembered Mom’s phobia. But within seconds, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door. “Summer is an adult, Stella. She’s not fragile.” After the front door clicked shut, Mom stared at the empty hallway for a long time. I patted the pillow beside me. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll protect you.” Mom offered me a weak smile, then shook her head. “It’s okay. It’s not the first time.” She whispered that years ago, Dad had once stepped out of an important international conference just to stand outside her door during a storm. “The thunder was deafening, but I wasn’t scared at all,” she murmured. “But later, I found out he wasn’t working. He was on a video call with Valerie the entire time. He comforted her for as long as the rain fell.” Despite her trembling limbs, Mom wrapped her arms tightly around me. When a massive thunderclap shook the house, the power cut out, plunging us into total darkness. Her voice shook as she sang soft lullabies to keep me calm. As I drifted off to sleep, my hand brushed against a wet patch on the pillow. It wasn’t mine. Mom was crying in the dark. “I’ve been chasing after them for so long,” she whispered. “I’m just so tired, Stella.” I reached out in the dark, gently wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Then let’s stop running. You can just stay with me.” Mom went quiet for a long moment, then gave a soft, decisive nod. “Okay. Let’s stop running.” The storm cleared by morning. Grandfather called, inviting us over to the family estate. “I haven’t seen Stella in forever. Let’s have a nice family dinner.” But we didn’t expect to find other guests waiting for us. When Valerie and Vivian walked into the dining room, Mom froze, a set of silver cutlery clutched in her hand. Dad walked in right behind them, offering a quick, dismissive explanation. “The more the merrier. It’s just a casual dinner.” Mom kept her head down, staying silent. My grandparents were thrilled. They practically shoved Mom and me out of our usual seats to let Valerie and Vivian sit next to them, relegating us to the far corner of the table. “Valerie, you’ve done such an amazing job as a museum curator,” Grandmother gushed. “Vivian is so talented. She’s won so many art awards at such a young age. “Exactly,” Grandfather chimed in. “I wish Vivian were our actual granddaughter. At least we’d have something to show off to our friends.” I kept my eyes glued to my plate, picking at my food. Mom squeezed my hand under the table, then looked up, her expression perfectly serene. “It’s not too late to change that, you know.” Grandmother’s brow furrowed, her voice turning sharp and grating. “Don’t you take that tone with me. Am I wrong? Stella has the exact same opportunities, yet she can’t compete with Vivian at all. She hasn’t won a single trophy or even stood on a stage. It’s embarrassing.” Grandfather sighed heavily. “It comes down to genetics. If Finn had married Valerie, who was always at the top of her class, we wouldn’t have this problem. “When Finn and Valerie were discussing art, Summer was just the girl sweeping the studio floors. They were never from the same world.” Sitting across from us, Vivian smirked, tossing her curls. I pulled my shoulders in, murmuring, “I’m sorry…” Mom gently covered my ears with her hands, her voice unwavering. “You did nothing wrong, sweetheart. You don’t need to apologize.” She glared across the table at Dad. “Finn, are you really just going to sit there while your parents insult Stella and me?” Dad was busy peeling shrimp for Valerie. He shrugged, completely unbothered. “They aren’t lying, Summer. You don’t have Valerie’s artistic talent, and Stella is average compared to Vivian. You’ve known this forever. Why are you making a scene now?” Grandmother smirked, pulling an elegant, heavy gold bracelet from her purse and sliding it onto Valerie’s wrist. “This is the family heirloom, meant for the true lady of the house. But I’ve always loved you, Valerie. I want you to have it.” Mom’s face drained of color. She bit her lip so hard it nearly bled. “And I suppose I should just accept this, too?” Valerie glanced nervously at Mom, feigning reluctance as she tried to pull her hand back. “No, this belongs to Summer. I can’t take it.” I slipped off my chair, wanting to beg Dad to stop them. But before I could speak, Dad let out a dry, mocking chuckle. “Do you have to humiliate me in front of my family, Summer? It’s just a piece of jewelry. Why do you have to be so incredibly petty? If you want a gold bracelet so badly, I’ll buy you a similar one tomorrow.” Mom sat in silence for a long moment, then slowly stood up. “No need. From now on, you don’t have to buy me anything.” I turned and ran toward the exit, with Vivian chasing right behind me. I knew she wanted to gloat about how she had stolen Dad’s attention once again. I hurried my pace, but suddenly, a strange, cracking sound echoed from above. The massive crystal chandelier in the grand foyer swayed violently, then snapped, plunging straight toward me. “Stella! Look out!” Mom screamed, her voice cracking with terror. Dad lunged forward, throwing his body over Vivian, who was standing several feet away from the danger zone. I closed my eyes in pure terror, bracing for the impact, but the pain never came. When I slowly opened them, I saw Mom hovering over me, a fragile, relieved smile on her face. “Thank God you’re safe,” she whispered. The next second, a thick line of crimson blood trickled down from her hairline, pooling on the floor. Terrified, I began to sob, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Help! Somebody help my mommy!” Dad’s face turned white as sheet. His hands trembled violently as he fumbled for his phone to call 911. At the hospital, doctors and nurses rushed in and out of the emergency room. I curled into a tight ball in the corner of the waiting room, trying to stay as quiet as possible so I wouldn’t distract them. Finally, a kind-faced nurse walked over and gently picked me up. “Your mommy is awake now, sweetie. I’ll take you to see her.” As we reached the door, I overheard the doctor speaking softly inside. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Pei. The blunt force trauma was too severe. We weren’t able to save the baby.” After a brief silence, Mom asked, “Does the man who brought me in know?” The doctor hesitated. “Mr. Pei? He left for the pediatric wing right after you were admitted to comfort a little girl with minor scrapes. He hasn’t returned yet.” Mom nodded slowly, her voice carrying a strange sense of relief. “Maybe it’s for the best. A child wouldn’t find any happiness in a family like ours.” Once the doctor left, I crept into the room and climbed onto the bed. Her face was paper-white, but she pulled me into a fierce, tight hug. “Mommy is so tired, Stella. I just want to rest. When I wake up, I’m taking you away from here, okay?” I didn’t ask where we were going, or if Dad was coming with us. I just buried my face in her neck and quietly fell asleep. When Dad finally showed up with takeout, his eyes were full of guilt. “Valerie’s ex-husband found out about the accident and threatened to sue for custody. She was hysterical, Summer. She couldn’t handle it alone.” Mom replied calmly, her face expressionless. “I understand. Go take care of her.” Dad looked down at me, his shoulders stiff. “Stella, please don’t hate me.” I shook my head slightly, staying silent. As soon as Dad left, Mom discharged herself from the hospital. We went back to the apartment to pack our bags. While we were sorting through our things, her phone buzzed with an anonymous email. The attachment was a clear photo of Dad and Valerie lying in bed together, naked. Mom quickly covered my eyes with her hand, letting out a sharp, frigid laugh. “So that’s what he meant by taking care of her.” Before we walked out, Mom stood in the center of the living room, taking one last look at the place. She slowly slid her wedding ring off her finger and placed it on top of a stack of freshly printed documents. Then, she took my hand and led me out the door, without looking back even once. When Dad finally realized Mom had checked out of the hospital and rushed home, the first thing he saw was the gold band on the counter. Beneath it lay the divorce papers and a medical report. As he read the words on the page, the color drained completely from his face.

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At the concert. The boy who bullied me for years was standing on stage, confessing his love to the girl of his dreams. “I was immature back then,” his voice echoed through the stadium speakers, thick with regret. “I only picked on you because I was desperate to get your attention.” “How are you doing these days? Wherever you are, this song is for you.” Everyone in the crowd was desperately whispering, trying to guess who the lucky girl could be. While I stood frozen in place. Because the girl described in those beautiful, longing lyrics… Was me. 1 I had just stepped out of my therapist’s office when the video popped up on my feed. It was Robert Shaw, the golden boy of the music industry, the prodigy everyone was obsessed with. He was looking straight into the camera, pouring his heart out to some unnamed high school sweetheart during his sold out arena tour. The crowd was deafening, screaming his name. On the massive screen, his face was blown up, showing every detail of that bright, effortlessly charming smile of his. He was reminiscing about a girl from his past. “After graduation, she just vanished,” Robert said, his voice laced with a bittersweet rasp that drove the fans wild. “I spent the entire night of graduation parked outside her building, waiting to tell her how I felt. But she never came down.” “This next song is for her. My first love. My only one.” The melancholic intro of the acoustic guitar swelled, and he began to sing. The lyrics painted a vivid portrait of a quiet, agonizing crush. Every line bled with the raw longing of a boy who had been too afraid to confess his love, yet so obvious about it. When the final chord faded, the stadium erupted in a frenzy of tears and screams. I stared at my phone screen, my chest tightening so hard I could barely breathe. The lyrics were beautifully written, capturing the fragile, heart wrenching fluttering of a secret romance. It detailed every stolen glance, every skipped heartbeat. But the girl Robert was singing about was me. The only problem was, Robert had never loved me. He was the monster who had spent three years tormenting me. “Lenore,” the nurse called out, pulling me back to reality. “You forgot your bag.” I forced my lips into a polite curve and took it from her. “Thank you.” She noticed the sudden paleness of my face. “Are you alright, dear? Remember what the doctor said. Try to avoid highly stressful situations. Take some walks, clear your head. And don’t forget to take your prescription.” “I will,” I whispered. When I got back to my tiny apartment, I opened up my socials. My fingers felt stiff, almost foreign to me, as I tapped the search bar. With trembling hands, I typed in Robert Shaw. Instantly, millions of results flooded my screen. Headlines screamed about his genius songwriting, calling him a once in a generation talent. Only a few rare, buried comments had anything bad to say about him. Robert Shaw. Enrolled at the prestigious Royal College of Music at eighteen. Released his debut album at nineteen. Now, at twenty two, he was selling out stadiums. I stayed up all night, scrolling through everything. I jumped from app to app, reading articles, fan theories, and forum threads. By the time the sky turned a pale, dusty gray, my eyes were swollen and burning. I found the original video of his concert confession. I tapped the comment section and typed three words. This sounds terrible. Then, I shut off my phone and pulled the covers over my head. When I finally woke up, the sun had already set, leaving my room in cold, heavy shadows. A dull ache pulsed behind my temples. It had been a fitful sleep, plagued by memories I had spent years trying to bury. I had dreamed of Westfield High. I dreamed of Robert. Back then, I was a ghost. I kept my head down, barely spoke, and blended into the dull beige walls of the classrooms. Until the second semester of junior year, when Robert transferred in. He was tall, strikingly handsome, and carried an effortless, cool guy attitude that had every girl in our year whispering and giggling the moment he walked through the door. The teacher assigned him the seat right behind mine. I was a wall of silence, but Robert was a storm of noise. He could talk to anyone about anything. On his first day, he asked to borrow my notes, praised my neat handwriting, and tried to strike up a conversation. I had never met anyone so relentlessly talkative. It made me incredibly uncomfortable. Even when I ignored him completely, he would just keep talking to himself, never seeming to tire of his own voice. But then, things shifted. Like many teenage boys seeking a reaction, Robert discovered how easy it was to get under my skin. It started with little things. He would hide my homework folders. Or, when he saw me zoning out during class, he would whisper that the teacher had called on me to go erase the blackboard. And because I was anxious, I would walk up and wipe the board clean, only to realize the teacher had just spent twenty minutes writing notes we still needed. The punishment was always the same: standing at the back of the classroom for the rest of the period. Whenever I glanced at Robert, he would just flash me a bright, mocking grin. I grew to despise him. I stopped acknowledging his existence. I went to the guidance counselor to beg for a desk reassignment, but she just brushed me off. “Robert has excellent grades, Lenore. Sitting near him might actually help bring your own scores up. Let us keep things as they are.” So, I was stuck. When Robert found out I had tried to move away from him, his smile turned sharp. “So, you don’t want to sit next to me?” he had asked. “No,” I replied coldly. After that, the petty teasing turned into a relentless, suffocating campaign. I dragged myself out of bed, went to the bathroom, and splashed cold water on my face. When I finally unlocked my phone, my screen was a barrage of notifications. Hundreds of hate comments and mocking messages. Are you kidding me? Some absolute nobody actually thinks Robert’s music is bad? Sure, sweetie. We get it, you are desperate for attention. Get lost, you pathetic loser! Keep your trash opinions to yourself. The replies under my comment were brutal, but the direct messages were even worse, filled with raw, venomous cruelty. I stared at the screen, and a cold, empty laugh escaped my throat. My therapist had warned me to avoid triggers. But seeing the boy who had ruined my life being praised as a romantic hero for loving me? There was no trigger worse than this. It felt like a switch flipped in my mind. A manic surge of energy washed over me. I went back to his page and left five more scathing reviews. Still not satisfied, I took screenshots of the vile messages his fans had sent me and posted them directly under his latest promotional post. Of course, a single hater’s voice was easily drowned out by the hundreds of thousands of adoring comments. Everyone was obsessing over who his mystery girl could be. She must be so gorgeous and talented. Imagine being loved by Robert Shaw. She must be the happiest girl in the world. I stared at those words. No. It was not a fairy tale. Being the target of Robert’s obsession was the darkest, most exhausting period of my life. If I could, I would drag him off that glittering stage. I wanted him in the dirt. If I had to drown in my own ruin, I would make sure he drowned right alongside me. The frenzy about Robert’s secret muse stayed pinned to the top of the trending charts for three solid days. It was everywhere. I could not even walk down the street without overhearing teenage girls talking about it. “I would give anything to know what she looks like,” one girl sighed to her friend as they walked home from school. “She has to be incredible. Robert is so sweet, so he would only fall for someone amazing. She must be really special to keep him hooked after all these years.” I watched them pass, my mind blank. Was he really that beloved? What gave him the right to be happy? Soon enough, someone claiming to be an old classmate joined the fray. At first, Robert’s fans attacked them, calling them a clout chaser. But then, the user uploaded our high school graduation photo. My eyes locked onto Robert immediately. He was in the center, smiling bright and handsome, still carrying a hint of boyish charm. He had not changed much, only grown more defined, more mature. Then, my eyes drifted to the third row, second from the right. There I was. My face was pale, my expression hollow and somber. I looked like a ghost haunting a celebration, completely out of place among the smiling faces of our peers. The comment section flooded with compliments. And then, someone zoomed in on me and left a comment: Wait, who is this girl? She looks so beautiful, like an indie movie actress. Within hours, that comment shot to the very top of the thread. And it got tens of thousands of likes. Because Robert’s official, verified account had liked it. The fandom went into a frenzy. They cross checked the account a thousand times to make sure it was not a glitch. It was him. People began speculating wildly. Was I the mystery muse? Some fans tagged him directly, begging for a confirmation, but he did not reply. I felt sick to my stomach just watching it. Then, my dusty old high school group chat suddenly sprang to life. Robert’s old high school buddies were tagging him frantically. Bro, what is going on? Is this about Lenore? After half an hour, Robert finally replied. Don’t start rumors. That single, vague word brought everyone out of hiding. The chat erupted with praise, calling him a legend, and someone floated the idea of a high school reunion. I shut my phone off, unable to look at it for another second. My sleep became progressively worse over the next few days. The nightmares returned, relentless and suffocating. Robert was the monster lurking in every shadow of my mind. I found myself back at the clinic. My therapist looked at my chart, her brow furrowing with deep concern. “Lenore, have you been facing any new stressors lately?” I let out a dry, bitter laugh. “Yes.” “I am trapped.” The nightmares woke me up in cold sweats, leaving me staring at the ceiling until dawn. It felt like I was caught in a labyrinth of his making. Everywhere I turned, his voice echoed, dissecting me, mocking me. I pressed my hands over my ears, but the noise would not stop. When I got home, I took photos of my new prescriptions. Then, I pulled out all my old medical files, dating back years. Every single diagnosis of severe anxiety and clinical depression. I scanned them, organized them, and saved them into a secure digital folder. Fate has a cruel sense of humor. I did not expect to run into him so soon. It was around eight in the evening. I had just finished delivering a bouquet to a client on the other side of town when my old scooter decided to die on the side of a busy road. Horns blared as cars sped past. It was just me, stranded in the cold dusk with a piece of useless metal. When it rains, it pours. I pulled off my helmet, letting the biting evening wind mess up my hair. As I reached into my pocket for my phone, a sleek, low profile black sedan pulled over beside me. The tinted window rolled down. “Lenore?” The voice was quiet, hesitant, as if speaking to a spirit that might dissolve into the mist. I turned. My heart seized in my chest. Fear. Pure, instinctual terror. That was my body’s immediate reaction to seeing his face. Robert stared at me, his eyes wide. “It really is you.” He made a move to open his door, but a hand reached out from the passenger seat to stop him. “Robert, don’t. Someone might recognize you.” “It’s fine,” he muttered. He pulled a black face mask over his nose and stepped out of the car anyway, standing tall under the flickering streetlights. I took an involuntary step back. “Let me give you a ride,” he said. Robert was tall. Six foot two, according to his online profile. But he had always towered over me. For a split second, the streetlights faded, and I was back in high school. I saw Robert holding my test paper high above his head, laughing as I jumped, unable to reach it. I had to drag a heavy wooden stool across the room just to claw it back. “Just a little higher, Lenore. You have almost got it,” he had mocked. The classroom had erupted in cruel, snickering laughter. I remembered the burning humiliation, the way my face had scorched red as I silently took my paper and crawled back to my desk. “It is rush hour,” Robert’s voice brought me back. “You won’t be able to call a ride out here.” I stared at him for a long, quiet moment. Then, I forced a sweet, delicate smile. “Thanks. That would be really helpful.” We sat in the back seat of the spacious sedan. Even with the room, his long legs meant his knee occasionally brushed against mine. Every time it happened, he flinched and pulled back, as if afraid he was burning me. My hands were shaking under my coat. To break the suffocating silence, Robert spoke up. “It is… been a long time.” I kept my eyes glued to my lap, pressing my hands together to stop the trembling. “Yeah. It has.” He turned his head to look at me. “Where did you end up going for college, Lenore?” “I didn’t go.” Thanks to him and the wreckage of my mental health, my senior year had been a haze of panic attacks and nausea. My grades plummeted, and my college plans vanished into thin air. Robert went quiet. He quickly shifted the subject. “I am a singer now. Have you… heard any of my stuff?” I let out a soft, breathy chuckle. “I saw the clips.” “Really?” His voice cracked slightly, a sudden burst of boyish excitement breaking through his carefully cultivated pop star persona. “Then, what did you… I mean, did you…” He was stammering, suddenly looking like an anxious teenager. “It is nice,” I said softly. The old Robert had treated me like a toy for his own amusement. Now, he was trembling in front of me. If his fans saw him like this, they would not believe it. He spent the rest of the drive talking about his career, his tours, his hectic life. I did not care. I did not want to hear it. But I sat there, playing the part of a polite, attentive listener. As the car pulled up near my neighborhood, Robert turned to me, his expression earnest. “Where did you go after graduation, Lenore? You just disappeared.” I offered a faint, distant smile. “My family moved.” He swallowed hard, his eyes searching mine. “Are you… seeing anyone right now?”

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1 The corporate dinner was winding down, and only two empty seats remained. One was tucked away in a dimly lit corner. The other was right next to Declan, my secret boyfriend of three years. I took a step forward, but before I could close the distance, Declan called out my best friend’s name. “Sophie, grab this seat.” A collective, knowing “Ooooh” rippled through the table. My phone buzzed immediately. The department group chat was losing its mind. [They look so freaking gorgeous together! Total power couple energy.] [Has the CEO ever actually asked someone to sit next to him? NEVER.] [I’m calling it right now, he is totally into Sophie! I don’t care what anyone says, my ship is sailing!] For the rest of the night, Declan didn’t spare me a single glance. He was too busy keeping up his strict policy of keeping us a secret. When a clumsy waiter spilled scalding hot soup on my hand, Declan didn’t even notice. He was leaning over, casually shielding Sophie’s wine glass from a stray elbow. Staring at my blistering skin, a quiet realization washed over me. I didn’t want to do this anymore. I was utterly exhausted by this life in the shadows. … Running cold water over my burn in the restroom, I checked my phone. Sophie had texted me half an hour ago. [Harper babe, don’t overthink what they’re saying in the chat. You know how people love to gossip. Just ignore them!] I dried my hands with a paper towel and typed back a simple response. [I know.] A minute later, a text from Declan popped up. [Just keeping things strictly professional tonight. Don’t read into it.] My chest tightened as I stared at those words on the screen. A heavy, suffocating knot formed in my throat. Three years at this agency. I couldn’t even count how many team-building retreats, holiday parties, and board meetings we had attended together. But the person sitting next to Declan was always a department head. Or Sophie. Or literally any other employee. Never me. Even on the rare occasions we ended up standing next to each other, he would subtly swap places with someone else. All in the name of keeping up appearances. He would look right past me, deaf to my words, blind to my presence. His intentional distance set the tone for the entire office, turning me into a permanent outcast among my peers. I locked my screen. I didn’t reply. When I returned to the private dining room, the laughter and clinking glasses were deafening. It was as if my absence hadn’t registered at all. Only the sharp, throbbing pain of the blister on my hand served as a reminder of the decision I had just made. As the dinner finally wrapped up, a few coworkers playfully nudged Sophie toward Declan. “Boss, there’s a massive storm warning tonight and Uber is totally surging. It’s not safe for a girl to head home alone. Mind giving Sophie a lift?” Declan didn’t say no. “Sure. Anyone else heading toward Southport?” He asked the question to the room, but his dark eyes were locked directly on me. My breath hitched. Three years ago, I had been followed by a stranger while walking home from the subway. Ever since that night, the thought of navigating dark streets alone left me paralyzed with panic. Declan knew this. It was the reason he started driving me home every single night. I opened my mouth. “I’m heading…” “I can take the others heading south!” Jason from Marketing cut me off, stepping physically in front of me. He grinned at Declan. “You just focus on getting Sophie home safe, boss.” Declan stared at me in silence for a few agonizing seconds before breaking eye contact. He offered Jason a crisp nod. “Appreciate it.” Then he turned on his heel and walked out. When Jason finally asked for my address, his face fell in exaggerated annoyance. “Harper, why didn’t you speak up and say you lived in Southport? It’s past 1 AM. Dropping you off is totally going to take me out of my way. Honestly, you should just get a Lyft.” “It might take a while, but you’ll get one eventually.” I didn’t argue. I just opened my app in silence. Estimated wait time: 53 minutes. The group chat was buzzing again with people announcing they had made it home safely. Then, someone stirred the pot. [Did anyone else notice a certain someone trying so hard to glue herself to Declan’s side tonight? Can’t she read the room? He clearly can’t stand her.] [Right?! If he hadn’t explicitly called Sophie over, Harper totally would have tried to sit there!] [And when he asked if anyone else needed a ride, it was so obvious he just wanted to be alone with Sophie. He was just being polite. Guess the office stalker actually thought she had a chance.] Sophie finally chimed in, playing the peacemaker. [Guys, stop being mean. Declan is just looking out for me because I’m relatively new.] That only fueled the fire. [Please. When that other new girl dropped all her files during a dressing down from her manager, Declan walked right past her without blinking.] [The fact that he never shuts these rumors down says everything. We all know what’s up!] Staring at the screen, I felt nothing but a hollow, freezing numbness. Sophie had applied to this agency because she heard I was being ostracized. She promised she was coming here to have my back. Now, she was the darling of the office. Her only support for me amounted to half-hearted texts telling me not to overthink things, insisting they didn’t mean any harm. When the rumors about Sophie and Declan first started circulating, I brought it up to him. He just told me to focus on my career and stop letting irrelevant office drama distract me. Irrelevant. I guess your feelings are only irrelevant to the people who don’t actually care about you. The biting wind whipped against my face, stinging my cheeks. I opened my company portal, drafted my letter of resignation, and hit submit. If I was done with him, there was no reason to keep torturing myself in that toxic building. It was nearly 2 AM by the time a driver finally accepted my ride. When I unlocked the front door, Declan stood up from the living room sofa. “Why didn’t you just say you were heading my way? I could have easily driven you back.” He sounded so casual, so completely oblivious. I wanted to scream. I wanted to ask if he was entirely blind to the way his employees actively talked over me just to set him up with another woman. I wanted to ask why he couldn’t just use his own voice to offer me a ride. But the words turned to ash in my mouth. I swallowed them down. “I forgot,” I said quietly. As I stepped into the light, I froze. He was wearing the silk pajamas I had bought for us months ago. Declan had flat-out refused to wear them. He hated the idea of matching couple’s outfits, claiming it was risky in case a coworker ever dropped by unannounced. A tiny, pathetic spark of hope fluttered in my chest. “I thought you hated matching sets,” I murmured. Declan opened his mouth to reply, but the bathroom door clicked open. Sophie stepped out, toweling her hair. She was wearing the matching women’s set. “I made him put it on!” she said, her face lighting up with a bright, innocent smile. “The his-and-hers bundle was on sale online, but I couldn’t tell if the men’s size would fit. So I asked Declan to model it for me.” The expression on my face shattered. That pathetic little spark in my chest was snuffed out, replaced by a cold, hollow vacuum. For a split second, I actually thought he had seen my resignation email. I thought he put the pajamas on to win me back, to finally stop hiding us. But it was just for Sophie. She walked up to him, sizing up the fit. “Yeah, the men’s top would definitely swallow me whole. Never mind, I guess I won’t order them. I don’t even have a boyfriend, so it’s not like anyone else could wear it.” She sounded so disappointed. Declan stepped in without missing a beat. “Just take this set with you.” Sophie’s eyes widened in delight. “Are you serious?” Declan’s face was completely relaxed. A faint, easy smile played on his lips. “Yeah. Harper never wears hers anyway. They’re just taking up space in the closet.” I stood there staring at the hardwood floor, my hands balling into tight fists, my nails digging into my palms until the pain grounded me. Then, I let go. He was right. They were taking up space. What was the point of wearing half of a couple’s set? So they sat in the dark, gathering dust. I used to hold onto the fantasy that one day, he would finally tell the world about us. That one day, we could wear them together, laughing over Sunday morning coffee. Instead, I got to watch him give our matching clothes to another woman. “Take them,” I heard my own voice say. It sounded foreign, entirely devoid of emotion. “I have no use for them.” Sophie practically did a happy dance. “Harper, you are an absolute angel!” “Oh, by the way,” she added, batting her eyelashes. “This storm is supposed to last for a few days, and I’m terrified of the thunder in my awful apartment. Can I crash here for a bit? I promise I won’t stay long!” I slipped off my shoes and walked toward the guest room. “Do whatever you want.” I was leaving anyway. She could move in permanently for all I cared. Later that night, the bedroom was pitch black. Declan’s voice suddenly cut through the heavy silence. “Why are you being so quiet today?” “Usually, if I try to throw away any of your random couple stuff, you pitch a fit.” I squeezed my eyes shut. My entire body went rigid. When we first started dating, I was completely head-over-heels. I bought matching everything. Coffee mugs, memory foam slippers, umbrellas, engraved fountain pens for the office. I wanted our lives intertwined in every possible way. The very next morning, Declan took his matching pen to work and gave it away as a random prize during a team meeting. Someone in the office noticed it was identical to the one I used. By noon, I was secretly branded as the “delulu groupie” who copied everything the CEO bought. I became the office punchline overnight. What broke my heart wasn’t that he disliked the items. It was that instead of just communicating with me, he chose the most publicly humiliating way to get rid of them. After that, his paranoia about being discovered went into overdrive. He wouldn’t even step into the same elevator with me. I had been so hurt, giving him the silent treatment for days. To make it up to me, Declan unlocked the heavy oak door of his private wine cellar. He pointed to an entire wall of dusty, pristine bottles. He told me every single bottle there was a vintage from the year I was born. Priceless. Irreplaceable. And he promised they would only be uncorked on our wedding day. For years, I clung to that memory. I convinced myself that Declan’s love was just quiet, buried under layers of corporate stoicism. I thought he simply didn’t know how to express his feelings. But watching him tonight, watching him eagerly shield Sophie from a spilled drink, watching him casually play dress-up to make her smile… I finally understood. When a man loves you, he doesn’t need to say a word. You can see it in his eyes, in his every action. And when a man forces himself to play a part, the disguise is just as obvious. My voice was flat, perfectly steady. “I told you. I have no use for them.” “If they’re useless, I don’t care who gets them.” Declan didn’t reply. The silence stretched on until morning. The next day at the office, the breakroom was buzzing. A crowd of women had Sophie cornered by the espresso machine. “Sophie, that selfie you posted last night was definitely not taken in your dingy bathroom! Oh my god, did you stay at his place?” “You totally slept at the boss’s penthouse!” “Wait, those pajamas you were wearing in the pic… I swear I’ve seen them in a couple’s catalog. Holy crap, you guys are moving fast!” “I freaking told you he was into her! Remember when he personally walked her around on her first day? It was giving major ‘don’t mess with my girl’ energy.” “And a few days ago, when you got dizzy from low blood sugar? The very next day, HR magically announced a new catered afternoon snack budget!” My hand froze on the breakroom door handle. That afternoon, I had been skipping lunch to help Sophie fix a massive spreadsheet error she made. By 3 PM, I was seeing stars. I completely blacked out and collapsed right there in the breakroom. Declan had been walking by. Instead of catching me, he stepped right over my legs to grab Sophie, who had merely stumbled backward in shock. The sheer panic in his eyes hadn’t been faked. When I confronted him that night, shaking with anger, his excuse was ready. “You have me. Sophie doesn’t have anyone looking out for her. If she busted her lip on company property, it would be a massive liability for me.” “I was only looking out for her because she’s your best friend. Really, Harper? You’re jealous of your own best friend?” I let go of the door handle and walked away. I couldn’t stomach the sound of their giggling anymore. Halfway down the hall, Jason from HR came sprinting out of the elevator, completely out of breath. “Listen up, people! I come bearing the juiciest gossip of the century!” “I think the boss is getting married!” “I literally just walked past his office and heard him on the phone ordering a custom diamond ring!” The squeals echoing around Sophie reached a fever pitch. “Sophie! You sneaky genius, you’re getting a ring!” Jason cleared his throat dramatically. “Wait, there’s more! News item number two!” “He just approved an emergency promotion. Word on the street is it’s someone from your team.” The crowd lost their collective minds. “Who else could it possibly be!” “I’m calling you Mrs. Boss from now on, I swear to God!” Sophie flushed a deep, pretty pink. “Stop it, guys, we don’t know for sure. Harper has been here way longer than me.” I didn’t stick around to hear the rest of their baseless theories. Diane, the HR Manager, had received my resignation email and called me into her glass-walled office. “Harper, you’re one of our strongest players. Your analytics, your project management, everything is top tier. Why the sudden exit?” I kept my gaze fixed on my lap. “Diane, that promotion he just approved… was it mine?” She went perfectly still. The silence was deafening. “I’ve been grinding here for three years. People who started the exact same day as me are senior directors now. I’m the only one still rotting at the bottom.” Every single year, HR submitted my name for a promotion. Every single year, Declan found some microscopic, ridiculous excuse to kill it. Diane frowned, leaning across her desk. “Harper, did you do something to offend him? Honestly, maybe you should just go apologize.” A bitter, fractured smile crossed my face. I hadn’t offended him. I had just made the catastrophic mistake of loving him in secret. Diane sighed, reading the finality in my eyes. “Entry-level resignations don’t strictly require executive sign-off. If you’re absolutely sure about this, I’ll process the paperwork right now.” An hour later, Declan called an emergency all-hands meeting. His face was a mask of cold fury. “The analytics report submitted by Team Two yesterday was a disaster. The client found three catastrophic data errors before the presentation even started.” His dark eyes snapped up, landing dead center on me. “Harper, that’s your team, isn’t it?” “If you can’t handle the responsibilities of an acting team lead, I’ll find someone who can. You’re docked a month’s pay, and Sophie will be taking over your position immediately.” A smug murmur ran through the room. A few coworkers shot Sophie triumphant, knowing looks. I didn’t look at them. I just stared blindly at the projection screen on the wall. Sophie and I had pulled an all-nighter fixing that exact spreadsheet. And Declan knew for a fact that the specific dataset in question belonged exclusively to Sophie. My fingernails dug crescent moons into my palms. The last remaining shred of warmth I held for him vanished, leaving nothing but ice. She makes the mistake. I take the bullet. And he uses my corpse as a stepping stone to promote her. A quiet, self-deprecating laugh escaped my lips. It was almost poetic. Declan caught the smile. His brow furrowed in irritation, but he didn’t say anything until the room cleared out. He ordered me to stay behind. Once the door clicked shut, he leaned against the mahogany table. “I know Sophie was the one who initially mishandled the data. But when a subordinate fails, it reflects a failure in leadership. You were supposed to be reviewing her work.” “Do you have a problem with the demotion?” My expression was carved from stone. I gave him my best customer-service voice. “None at all. I trust your judgment completely, sir.” The crease between his brows deepened. He looked like he wanted to argue, but finding no resistance, he just waved a hand dismissively, signaling me to leave. The moment I stepped out of the conference room, Sophie practically ambushed me. She was holding a tray of iced matcha lattes. “Harper! I saved this one just for you.” I gently pushed her hand away. “No thanks.” Her bottom lip instantly jutted out in a picture-perfect pout. “Are you… are you mad at me about the promotion? Harper, it was the CEO’s call. I didn’t ask for this. I have absolutely no control over his executive decisions.” My face remained blank. “I’m not mad. Executive decisions have nothing to do with entry-level employees.” My tone was clipped, strictly professional. But to Sophie, it must have sounded like a declaration of war. Her eyes instantly welled up with glossy tears. “How can you say you’re not mad?” “You won’t even drink the latte I bought you! You hate me!” The vultures descended immediately. The surrounding cubicles emptied out as our coworkers rushed to her defense. “What is your problem, Harper? Are you seriously that jealous?” “She bought drinks for the entire floor to celebrate, and she specifically made sure to save you one! Stop being such an ungrateful bitch.” “Ignore her, Sophie. She’s just pissed because she’s totally incompetent. There’s a reason the boss has refused to promote her for three straight years!” “Honestly, she’s still holding onto that creepy stalker phase from years ago. Declan probably despises her, and she’s just been clinging to this job like a parasite.” The vicious, hateful words rained down on me, suffocating and relentless. I took a slow, deep breath, forcing my heart rate down. “I declined the drink because I have a severe allergy to matcha.” “And for the record, I haven’t said a single negative word about your promotion. Have I?” Sophie froze. The latte trembled in her hand, spilling slightly over the plastic lid. A single tear rolled down her cheek. “Oh my god, Harper, I’m so sorry. I… I totally forgot you were allergic.” Seeing her cry was the final straw for the office mob. A senior designer stepped up, glaring at me with pure venom. “Who the hell do you think you are, talking to her with that kind of attitude? So you have an allergy, big deal. You couldn’t just say ‘no thank you’ like a normal human being?” “We all know exactly why you’re being a psycho. You’re insanely jealous that the boss actually cares about Sophie, and you’re losing your mind because he’s about to propose to her.” Three years. Three years of hiding in stairwells, of pretending not to know the man I slept next to every night, of swallowing every insult, every slight, every joke at my expense. The dam broke. Without thinking, I reached into my pocket, pulled out the plain silver band, and shoved it onto my left ring finger, holding my hand up for the entire floor to see. “Declan is my boyfriend! Why the hell would I be jealous of her?” Dead silence dropped over the bullpen. For five agonizing seconds, no one breathed. Then, someone snorted. A hysterical ripple of laughter tore through the room. “Holy shit, she has completely lost her mind! She actually thinks she’s dating the CEO?” “Someone call HR, this has to cross the line into actual harassment. Did you seriously go buy yourself a fake ring?” Furious, my blood boiling, I spun around to storm into Declan’s office to drag him out by his tie. But I didn’t have to. The heavy glass door swung open, and Declan stepped out, his face like thunder. I marched right up to him, staring dead into his eyes. “Tell them, Declan. Tell them right now.” “What exactly is our relationship?” He stared at me, his jaw clenching. The silence stretched tight as a wire. Behind me, the whispers started up again. “Wait… he isn’t shutting her down. Oh my god, is she telling the truth?” “Then what the hell has been going on with him and Sophie?” Hearing the panic in their voices, seeing the potential PR disaster unfolding before his eyes, Declan’s gaze hardened into obsidian. His voice rang out, freezing the air in the room. “Our relationship?” “We are strictly professional. You are my subordinate. Nothing more.” “Harper, spreading malicious rumors about executive staff and publicly disrespecting your team lead is a severe violation of company policy. You are suspended for seven days without pay.” I stared at the man I had loved for three years. Looking at the sheer, unyielding ice in his eyes, my heart simply stopped beating for him. The love died right there on the carpet. I let out a soft, broken laugh. I reached over, gripped the silver band on my finger, and yanked it off. It hit the floor with a hollow clink. “We are totally, permanently done.” Declan’s fingers twitched at his sides. He took a half-step forward, but violently checked himself, rooting his feet to the ground. My words only fueled the office’s disgust. “The man literally just denied knowing her, and she’s trying to frame it like a breakup?” Someone mimicked my voice in a cruel, high-pitched whine. “We are permanently done. God, the cringe is lethal.” “If he was dating anyone, it would look exactly like how he treats Sophie. Look at him, he stepped in the second Harper started bullying her.” “Harper, seek professional help. Go obsess over someone in your own league.” The bullpen erupted into cruel, mocking laughter. I didn’t say another word. I didn’t look at a single one of them. I just walked back to my desk, pulled a cardboard box from underneath, and methodically packed my things. Seven days was far too short of a suspension, Declan. Because you are never seeing me again. From the glass balcony on the second floor, Declan watched me walk out the front doors of the building. He pulled out his phone. He typed out an apology text, deleted it. Typed another, deleted it again. By the time the office cleared out at 5 PM, he still hadn’t hit send. When he unlocked the door to his penthouse and found it completely empty, a cold prickle of unease finally hit him. He frowned, opening my contact to send a quick, authoritative message demanding to know where I was. A bright red exclamation mark popped up. Message failed. You have been blocked by this user. When Sophie found out, she put on her best impression of a victimized saint. “Do you think Harper is actually mad about what happened today? I mean, she was being completely irrational.” “And now that the rumor about you buying an engagement ring is out… why does she have to be so aggressive and ruin everyone’s mood?” Declan frowned, rubbing his temples. He remembered the dead, hollow look in my eyes when I walked out of the office. A wave of genuine panic flared in his chest, but he forced it down, masking it with his usual arrogance. “She’s just throwing a tantrum over the demotion. Whatever. When her suspension is up, I’ll just promote her to keep her quiet.” But seven days came and went. The deadline passed, and my desk remained empty. Losing his patience, Declan marched down to the HR department and demanded Diane call me. Diane stared at him, bewildered. “Promote her? Boss, she’s gone.”

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1 On my way home from work, I FaceTimed Hector as usual. Before even a minute had passed, he muttered, “Actually, I need to jump in the shower. I’ll call you back.” I could only sit on the sofa, clutching my phone, and wait. It took him four hours to return the call. When the screen lit up, his face was bright with a wide, easy smile, more animated than I had seen him in months. “My assistant messed up again today,” he said, laughing. “She actually got the numbers on the slide deck completely wrong.” “Katie, if only she had half your brains.” A moment later, he chuckled again. “Then again, not every woman can be a powerhouse like you. I guess she is just built to be cute.” In that instant, the words I wanted to say died in my throat. We had been long-distance for three years. In the beginning, he would call me the second he stepped out of the shower. He would eagerly ask what I ate for dinner, if my commute was smooth, or what color flowers I bought for the kitchen table. When did all that warmth and energy start going to someone else? When did his responses to me dwindle down to a dismissive shrug and a sigh? Watching him smile at something off-screen, a heavy, quiet exhaustion settled deep in my chest. I realized then that when you finally reach the point of total disappointment, you do not even have the strength to be sad. … The call ended. I watched the clock on my phone tick away. One minute. Ten minutes. Sixty-seven minutes. Hector never called back. A tight knot formed in my throat. It was always like this lately. He would say whatever he wanted to say, and then he would hang up. His voice only carried excitement when the conversation revolved around Sienna. “Sienna got lost in the office building again today, wandered around for thirty minutes.” “She literally spilled coffee all over the contracts. She is so clumsy it is almost funny.” I had tried to steer the conversation away, mentioning that I missed the Southern barbecue back home in Savannah. He had blurted out without thinking, “Sienna can’t do greasy food like that. She is always begging for cupcakes.” Then, realizing his slip, he quickly added, “Next time you visit Boston, I’ll take you out for some.” Suddenly, my screen flashed with a social media notification. Hector had posted photos from an office get-together. The last two slides were photos of just him and Sienna. They stood together under a canopy of fairy lights, their posture relaxed and intimately familiar. I stared at the image for a long time. I typed out: Are you two spending a lot of time together lately? Then I deleted it. I scrolled through our chat history. Starting from last year, our conversations had been reduced to a dry stream of single-word replies: Yes. Okay. Got it. It had not always been this way. He used to text me photos of every stray cat he walked past on the street. But once, when I texted him about how my manager had unfairly chewed me out, he had simply replied: Don’t you have your own work to focus on? I suppose that was the exact moment the scales began to tip. I took a deep breath and typed: Hector, my manager gave me some time off. I booked a flight to Boston tomorrow to come see you. Exciting, right? I waited until my phone battery dropped to three percent. At 1:17 AM, his reply finally came, written in a tone that felt entirely foreign: Katie, why didn’t you tell me sooner about something this big? Why do you always make these spontaneous decisions? Is my life supposed to be completely tied to yours? My eyes blurred, the glowing words smearing into a hazy mess on the screen. Fine, whatever. I’ll pick you up tomorrow. Whatever. He used to say those words so often now. When we tried to plan a holiday, when I asked him to call me daily, even when we FaceTimed, everything ended with a dismissive whatever. The next morning, I got up early and put on the dress he had praised the previous summer. At the airport, I sent him a flurry of updates: Going through security. Takeoff in thirty minutes. I’ll send you my location when I land. None of them received a reply. When the plane landed in Boston, I dragged my suitcase through the gate, fully prepared to wait. The last time he promised to pick me up, he made me wait in the terminal for an hour because Sienna had made a mistake on a proposal. But this time, I spotted him immediately. He was standing near the exit, holding two iced lattes. I began to wave, but my smile froze before it could fully form. Sienna stepped out from behind him, casually wrapping her arm through his. Hector looked at me, his brow furrowing. “What took you so long? Sienna hates the heat, she almost got heatstroke waiting out here.” Sienna laughed softly, nudging him. “Your girl hasn’t been to Boston in forever, Hector, don’t be so mean to her.” Yet, she did not let go of his arm. When we got to his car, an unfamiliar sweet perfume drifted from the interior. The seat covers had been replaced with bright pink ones. In the console, there was a small vanity mirror, a tube of lip gloss, and a few hair ties. A plush toy hung from the rearview mirror. Sienna naturally claimed the passenger seat. Hector unwrapped a straw and slid it into one of the lattes, handing it to her. She took a sip, turning to him. “The client today was so ridiculous. He actually asked me to turn the PDF back into a slide deck. Like, so annoying.” “So what did you do?” he asked, a soft chuckle in his voice. “I just sent him the PDF. If he doesn’t know how to convert it, that is on him.” Hector laughed, his eyes crinkling in a way I had not seen in years. He talked so much during that forty-minute drive, sharing more stories than he had during our entire week of phone calls. I turned my face toward the window. The towering glass buildings of Boston blurred together, the bright light making my eyes sting. When the car stopped at his apartment building, I followed them upstairs. But the moment Hector pushed the door open, I froze on the threshold. The apartment was unrecognizable. The sleek, minimalist space he used to insist on keeping spotless was now overflowing with pink. Pink rugs, fuzzy throw pillows, and sheets of face masks and half-eaten snacks cluttered the coffee table. A lace bralette hung carelessly over the back of the sofa, and the balcony flower stands were packed with small succulents. Once, I had tried to place a single green ivy plant on his windowsill, and he had complained for days that it got in the way. Now, everything was different. Sienna kicked off her shoes, giving me a shy, apologetic smile. “Oh, Katie, please don’t be mad. I’ve been looking for an apartment but haven’t found the right place yet, so Hector let me crash here for a bit. You aren’t angry, are you?” Hector’s voice softened defensively. “Sienna had no other options. She is young, just starting out, and it is hard to survive alone in a city like this. You went through the exact same phase, so you should understand. She is quiet and doesn’t bother me. We actually get along really well.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he beat me to it, his expression hardening into disappointment. “Katie, when did you become so cold? You used to cry over stray dogs on the street and insist on bringing them home. Sienna is a human being, and you are seriously holding a grudge against her?” I stood there, feeling stripped bare under his gaze. When we first started dating, if a girl tried to flirt with him, he would reject her flatly, eager to show the world he was taken. Now, he stood by another woman’s side, demanding to know why I lacked compassion. Sienna purred softly, “Well, it is natural for his girl to feel a little uneasy, Hector. Let’s go watch TV and let her process things on her own.” She turned and headed toward the living room, grabbing a bag of potato chips and calling Hector over as if she owned the place. I watched them from the hallway. A reality show played on the screen, and Sienna laughed, leaning her shoulder into his. He reached out and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture so fluid and natural he did not even seem to realize he was doing it. I walked into the bedroom, shutting the door to drown out the noise. I sat on the edge of the bed for what felt like hours. When the television finally turned off, I could hear Sienna padding down the hall. “Hector, where is the hair dryer?” “Second drawer on the left under the bathroom sink.” “Got it, thanks! Goodnight!” “Goodnight, sleep well.” Moments later, the bedroom door opened. Hector stepped in, pausing when he saw me still sitting there in the dim light. “Why aren’t you asleep? You’ve been traveling all day, get some rest.” “How much longer is she staying here?” I asked. “I have a friend who owns a studio apartment in the city, and it is a ten-minute walk from your office. The rent is cheap. I can call him and arrange for her to move…” “Katie.” Hector turned around, his tone shifting. “I am not an object you can manage.” He spoke slowly, every word heavy with irritation. “Stop trying to control everything in my life. Sienna is my colleague. Am I supposed to throw her out on the street just to please you? Why are you being so heartless?” I pulled my hands back into my lap. “Fine. I won’t mention her again.” I took a deep breath, trying to steady my voice. “I got promoted recently. My manager gave me the transfer paperwork, so I can request a permanent move to the Boston branch. If the process goes smoothly, it won’t take long…” He cut me off before I could finish. “Why would you move to Boston out of nowhere?” Perhaps seeing the look on my face, his voice softened slightly. “Katie, we are adults now, not kids.” He placed a hand on my shoulder. “Can’t we just focus on our own careers for now? I’ll make my way back to Savannah eventually.” Eventually. He had said that when he landed his first big project, when he got promoted, and when the fiscal year ended. From spring to autumn, from winter to summer, his “eventually” was a horizon that kept drifting further away. “What about our wedding?” I heard myself ask, my voice barely a whisper. “Shouldn’t we start setting a date?” This time, the frustration in his voice was undeniable. “Katie, I can’t reason with you. Are you really that desperate to get married? I told you I will marry you eventually, so what is the rush?” He looked at me as if I were a spoiled child throwing a tantrum. “I really don’t understand you sometimes. Just think about it.” The bedroom fell silent. I sat on the edge of the mattress until the sky began to turn pale. Suddenly, the bedroom door was swung open. I winced at the sudden intrusion. Sienna stood in the doorway, sorting through my suitcase and tossing my clothes onto the bed one by one, grumbling under her breath. “Katie, your clothes are so plain. I need to take some nice photos today, and your style is just… so mature.” I sat up, cold anger rising in my chest. “Sienna, did anyone teach you to knock?” She spun around, her expression instantly morphing from arrogance to tearful innocence. “Hector told me you brought some dresses, so I just thought… why are you being so mean to me?” Right on cue, Hector’s tired voice echoed from the hallway. “Katie, can you please stop being so hostile? She didn’t mean any harm.” For the first time in three years, I did not turn away from his gaze. Hector let out a heavy sigh. “Alright, she is just a kid. Why are you taking everything so seriously?” His tone softened into a placating murmur. “You finally have a vacation. Let’s not ruin it. How about I take you to Disney today?” My mind flashed back to my last birthday, when I had told him over FaceTime how much I wanted to visit the theme park. He had snapped at me then: Aren’t you a bit old for that? It’s childish. Yet here he was, offering to take me. I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat, forcing myself to find an excuse for him. Let it go, I told myself. You didn’t travel all this way just to argue. I gave a quiet nod. He smiled, looking immensely relieved. Disney was packed with tourists. Hector went to purchase the tickets, and Sienna stood right beside him, pointing excitedly at a stuffed toy display. “Look, Hector, it’s so cute!” Hector glanced at it, murmuring something that made her laugh. From the moment we passed the ticket gates, she kept her hand firmly wrapped around his arm. She wanted photos everywhere—in front of the castle, on the carousel, and by every colorful balloon stand. She treated him like her personal photographer, and he complied without a single complaint. I remembered asking him to take a photo of me with a character mascot once. He had held the phone with an irritated sigh, snapped two quick pictures, and both turned out completely blurry. Now, he was crouching down to find the perfect angle for Sienna, leaning close to her afterward so they could review the shots together, their heads nearly touching. Even under the warm sun, a cold chill settled deep in my bones. After they rode a couple of roller coasters, I sat on a bench to wait. Nearby, a young couple was laughing, sharing a single ice cream cone. I felt a sudden, sharp pang of envy. By the time they finished, the sky had grown overcast. Sienna tugged at Hector’s sleeve, insisting they go to the haunted house next. Hector didn’t hesitate. “Sure, the line looks to be about thirty minutes.” I stood up, but my vision suddenly went black for a second, and I had to steady myself against the bench. “Hector, I want to go back to the apartment.” His patience snapped instantly. “Katie, what is your problem today?” “Nothing, I just—” “We have been walking on eggshells around you all morning,” he said, his voice rising. “Do you really have to ruin everyone’s day?” I stared at him, my mouth dry. I wanted to tell him that I had thrown up twice since we arrived, that my legs were trembling from exhaustion. But the words remained locked in my throat. Sienna looked at me, her eyes filled with a cold, mocking disdain. “Honestly, Katie, enough. You’ve been giving me dirty looks this entire trip, and I’ve kept my mouth shut. Hector and I had other plans today, but we canceled them because you showed up. What more do you want?” Then, her face shifted back into a sweet, innocent smile. “Whatever, Hector, let’s not let it ruin our day. She is always such a buzzkill anyway. I don’t know how you put up with her.” She glanced back at me. “Hey, why don’t we go look at wedding dresses instead? Didn’t you say you wanted to try some on when you were on FaceTime the other day? Since we are already out, we might as well go look.” I stood frozen in the crowd. So she had been right there, listening, during our private calls. I felt a sudden, hysterical urge to laugh. But perhaps this was for the best. I was going to call off the wedding anyway. “Fine,” I said quietly. “Let’s do that.” The moment we walked into the bridal boutique, the receptionist’s face lit up upon seeing Sienna. “Oh, Miss Sienna! Back with your boyfriend to try on more dresses? That mermaid gown looked absolutely stunning on you last week. We actually just received some new arrivals…” The receptionist’s voice trailed off as her eyes landed on me. “And this is…?” Sienna smiled brightly. “Oh, this is Hector’s fiancée. We are just accompanying her today.” Hector remained silent. He had already been here with her. I recalled showing him a few wedding dress styles on my phone last month, asking for his opinion. He had kept his eyes glued to his work laptop, muttering, “Whatever you like is fine.” When I asked when we could go try some on, he had said we would find time later. His “later” was reserved for someone else. Sienna nudged my arm. “What are you staring at, Katie? Today is all about you. I can’t wait to toast to you and Hector.” She turned to the stylist. “Could you bring out some simple options for her? Just something basic.” The stylist glanced at me, then casually pulled a plain, unadorned gown from the rack. “This standard style is quite popular. Why don’t you try it on?” Sienna shoved the heavy fabric into my arms and pushed me toward the fitting room. The dress was a poor fit. The fabric pinched in the wrong places, the waistline was much too high, and the cut was completely unflattering. When I stepped out of the curtain, someone in the shop let out a muffled snicker. “She looks like a stuffed sack…” “Honestly, kind of.” “Is that really his fiancée? You’ve got to be kidding.” “She doesn’t hold a candle to Sienna.” I looked over at Sienna. Her lips were curved into a small, smug smile, enjoying my humiliation. Just then, a manager stepped out from the back office. Spotting Hector and Sienna, he hurried over with an eager grin. “Oh, Hector! I was just wondering when you and Sienna would come back. Since the lighting is perfect today, why don’t we do a mock proposal? We need some promotional material for our social media. If you two stand right in front of that floral wall…” A few onlookers in the shop began to cheer. “Do it! Do it!” Sienna looked at Hector, a playful, teasing glint in her eyes. “Hector, since everyone is asking, why don’t you? It’s just for fun anyway.” Hector stood before her, a handsome smile spreading across his face. Swept up in the atmosphere, he dropped to one knee. Sienna laughed, extending her hand toward him. The boutique erupted into applause and cheers as camera shutters clicked. I turned back into the fitting room, pulled the curtain shut, and changed back into my own clothes. By the time I stepped out, the excitement had died down. Hector saw me, his brow furrowing instantly. “Katie, can you not…” “Hector,” I interrupted, my voice flat. “Let’s break up.” A heavy silence fell over the room. His expression shifted rapidly from confusion to sheer outrage. “Katie, you are completely out of line!” he hissed, grabbing my arm. “Do you think a relationship is some game? Do you need the entire world to revolve around you to be happy?” I looked at him, searching his eyes for any trace of the boy who used to call me at three in the morning just to say he missed me. Now, his eyes were filled with everything but me. “Whatever,” I said softly, pulling my arm back. “I’m leaving.” I walked over to the front desk. “Hi, I’d like to cancel the wedding reservation for September twentieth.” The receptionist blinked, startled. “And the name on the booking?” “Katie. September twentieth, at the Savannah Grand Hall.” She typed quickly on her keyboard, her eyes widening. “Are you sure? The deposit has already been paid, and it is non-refundable…” “I’m sure.” I pushed open the glass doors and walked out into the cool evening air. By the time I got back to his apartment, the sun had set. I packed my belongings into my suitcase as quickly as I could, booked a ticket, and boarded the late-night flight back to Savannah. Later that night, Hector and Sienna returned to the apartment. A sudden, strange emptiness in the living room caught his attention. He walked into the bedroom, realizing all of Katie’s things were gone. Did she really leave? His thumb hovered over her name on his screen, but before he could type a message, an incoming call flashed across his screen. “Hello, Mr. Hector. We received a cancellation notice from Katie today regarding the wedding booking for September twentieth. Are we officially calling off the event?”

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