Author: Momo Chan

It had only been three days since the transfer student, Camille Porter, arrived at our school. Yet, here was Connor, my childhood friend, already demanding she take the seat next to me. Before I could even open my mouth to protest, a stream of glowing text floated right across my vision, scrolling like a live chat feed on an online web novel. [Connor is so deeply in love, it hurts. He knows her strength is STEM and she struggles with Humanities, so he’s literally matching her with a literature genius. Talk about a power couple!] [He’s so terrified she won’t make it into Stanford that he’s basically using the rich girl to carry her. The double standards are wild! He cannot hide his feelings!] [Connor does so much for her in secret, but he never says a word. She actually thinks he hates her! I swear, she needs to find out the truth!] Every single comment was deeply moved by Connor’s secret devotion. But inside, I felt absolutely nothing. Seeing my silence, Connor frowned. “Camille is already packing up her stuff to move over right now. Don’t look like you’re about to start a war.” I just looked at him, my voice completely flat. “I am starting a war. I’ve sat alone all year. I don’t want a partner.” 1 “Sat alone all year?” Connor looked at me like I had lost my mind. He slammed his AP calculus workbook onto my desk, his eyes flashing with sudden frustration. “Elaine, this isn’t the time to be stubborn.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Camille got a perfect score on her AP Lit diagnostic, but her STEM scores are a disaster. You’re the exact opposite. If you sit together and tutor each other, it’s the most efficient way to get your GPA up.” I looked up at him. He was wearing a crisp, white button-down, his hair perfectly styled, his jaw tight. Standing there in the morning sunlight streaming through the classroom window, he looked exactly like the flawless male lead from a high school romance novel. Meanwhile, the text kept scrolling across my eyes. [Oh my god, he’s actually speaking up! He cares so much about her grades!] [Can Elaine please stop throwing a tantrum? He is literally stressing himself out for her!] [Camille is a literal genius at literature. Elaine should be thanking her lucky stars that she’s willing to help.] [Camille is an heiress, and she has zero attitude. She’s actively trying to help, and Elaine is acting like this?] I stared at the words, feeling a cold, bitter amusement bubble up in my chest. Actively trying to help? Camille walked through the classroom door at that exact moment, catching the tail end of my rejection. She was beautiful. It was that soft, flawless beauty that only comes from a lifetime of wealth. Clean, delicate, with wide, innocent eyes. She lingered just behind Connor, her voice soft and hesitant. “Connor, it’s fine. Don’t push it. Elaine probably just doesn’t want to be disturbed.” She looked at me, offering a fragile, understanding smile. “It’s really okay. I can take one of the desks in the back.” The comments exploded. [Camille is literally an angel!] [She’s so graceful. No wonder Connor chose her to save Elaine’s GPA.] [Elaine doesn’t know how good she has it.] [I mean, Camille is a Porter. Her family literally owns Porter Enterprises. Even if she fails out, she can just study in Europe or inherit a company. She’s giving up her valuable time for Elaine, and Elaine is giving her attitude?] Connor’s expression hardened. “Elaine, did you hear that? Camille is being incredibly accommodating, and you’re still trying to humiliate her?” I slowly packed my workbook into my backpack, my voice calm and steady. “Humiliate her? The only one being humiliated here is you.” Connor blinked, caught off guard. “What is that supposed to mean?” I looked him dead in the eye. “It means I’m rejecting this because of your self-righteous meddling.” The classroom fell dead silent. Connor clearly hadn’t expected me to call him out so publicly. We had grown up together. His family was wealthy, his grades were always perfect, the teachers adored him, and our peers idolized him. I was always the quiet girl in his shadow—the STEM prodigy who couldn’t write an essay to save her life, always sitting just below him on the academic leaderboard. In the past, whatever Connor suggested, I did. I had truly believed he had my best interests at heart. But things were different now. Connor took a deep breath, visibly trying to control his temper. “Elaine, stop assuming everyone has malicious intent. You know your family’s situation.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “You aren’t like Camille. Even if she struggles, she has a safety net. She can go abroad, or her father can hand her a division of his company. But you? If you don’t get into a top-tier college, your life is over before it even starts.” The comments lit up like fireworks. [Oh my god, he’s so incredibly realistic!] [That was a harsh truth bomb, but he’s so right. I feel so bad for him.] [Camille is already set for life. Connor isn’t doing this for Camille; he’s doing this to save Elaine.] [Elaine, stop being so difficult! You forced him to say it out loud. What more do you want?] Connor was right about one thing: I didn’t have room for error. I didn’t have a safety net. I looked at him, and a sudden, sharp smile touched my lips. “Exactly. And that is precisely why I can’t afford to sit next to Camille.” Connor froze. “What do you mean?” 2 Before I could say anything else, Mrs. Gavin walked in. Seeing the heavy tension in the room, she frowned. “Why hasn’t everyone found their seats yet?” Connor turned immediately. “Mrs. Gavin, Elaine is refusing to cooperate with the new seating chart.” Mrs. Gavin looked at me, her tone relatively gentle. “Elaine, this is senior year. Everyone needs to focus on their GPA. You and Camille helping each other is a win-win. Connor went out of his way to request this arrangement for you. Don’t waste your classmate’s good intentions.” I raised my chin. “Mrs. Gavin, I don’t need it.” Mrs. Gavin stared at me, bewildered. “Your Humanities grades are dragging you down. How can you say you don’t need it?” “I’ll study on my own,” I said. Connor let out a cold, cynical laugh. “If you could study on your own, your AP Lit scores wouldn’t have been in the gutter for the last two years.” The comments chimed in instantly. [He’s harsh, but he’s right.] [Elaine’s essay scores have been terrible forever, and she’s still acting tough.] [She’s just too proud to accept help.] I pulled my latest mid-term report card out of my desk and laid it flat on the surface. Calculus: 100%. AP Physics: 100%. Chemistry: 98%. Biology: 99%. AP Lit: 65%. AP US History: 70%. Mrs. Gavin sighed, looking at the numbers. “Elaine, this isn’t the time to let your pride get in the way. Look at this. You have no room left to grow in STEM. The only way to save your cumulative GPA is to pull up your Humanities. Camille just transferred, and she needs help with STEM. Isn’t mutual improvement the best path forward?” I offered a thin smile. “Mrs. Gavin, if it’s mutual help, it should be voluntary. Right now, I don’t volunteer. You can’t force me to sit with her, can you?” Mrs. Gavin’s face tightened. Camille stepped forward, her voice trembling slightly. “Mrs. Gavin, really, it’s fine. If Elaine doesn’t want to, we shouldn’t force her. Maybe I’m just… not good enough.” Her eyes welled with tears, turning red at the rims. In the back of the classroom, a boy muttered under his breath, “She’s trying so hard to be nice. Elaine is being such a brat.” “Seriously. Connor is just trying to help her, and she’s acting like she’s too good for it.” The comments were practically screaming. [Elaine is so toxic!] [Camille looks so hurt. A rich girl like her has probably never been treated like this.] [Connor, go protect Camille! Even if you love Elaine, Camille shouldn’t have to take this abuse!] Connor took a step toward me. “Elaine, apologize to Camille.” I almost laughed out loud. “Apologize for what?” “For humiliating her.” “She wanted to sit next to me. I said no. That’s humiliation?” I turned my gaze directly to Camille. “Camille, did I insult you?” Camille bit her lip, shaking her head. “Did I touch you?” She shook her head again. “Did I say you weren’t good enough?” Her face paled slightly. “No.” I looked back at Connor. “Then what am I apologizing for?” Connor choked on his words, unable to answer. The comments took a turn into pure resentment. [Elaine is so cold-blooded. So what if she’s technically right? She’s completely alienating everyone.] [Connor is definitely going to feel protective of Camille now. Elaine is sabotaging her own life. No one can save her.] [She can be as stubborn as she wants now. Let’s see how she feels when her college applications get rejected.] I couldn’t care less. Mrs. Gavin tapped her knuckles on the podium. “Alright, enough. Since Elaine doesn’t agree, we’ll leave the seating as it is for now.” Connor frowned. “Mrs. Gavin—” “Connor, you don’t dictate the seating chart,” Mrs. Gavin interrupted him, her tone sharp. “If Elaine wants to self-sabotage, that is her choice.” Connor’s face went rigid. A row of exclamation points flashed across my vision in the floating text. [Oh my god, Connor just got scolded by the teacher because of Elaine! My poor baby!] [Elaine just ruined the ultimate study duo. Connor’s sweet intentions completely wasted on a thankless brat…] I stared at the scrolling text, my heart turning icy cold. Everyone was sympathizing with Connor. But had a single one of them asked why I was refusing this “generosity”? Not one. All they wanted to see was the male and female leads falling into a neat, perfect romance. 3 I pushed the thoughts away. My primary goal was to raise my Humanities scores on my own. I opened my AP Lit textbook and began memorizing literary devices and essay structures. But a week later, the school announced they were implementing mandatory AP study groups for seniors. Unsurprisingly, Connor was appointed leader of Group One. When it came time to draft group members, the very first name he called was mine. Connor’s voice was entirely professional as he looked at me. “Elaine, don’t misunderstand. This study group is a school mandate, not my personal choice. You have no reason to refuse.” The comments flared up with excitement. [Connor is so smart! Since she refused private help, he went through official school channels!] [There’s no way she can say no to this, right?] [Connor is literally paving her entire path to success.] I hadn’t anticipated Connor using school policy to force Camille onto me. I froze for three seconds before raising my hand. “Mrs. Gavin, I’d like to request a group transfer.” Mrs. Gavin’s face immediately darkened. “Elaine, what is it this time?” Connor stared at me, a mixture of disappointment, confusion, and raw irritation in his eyes. “This isn’t a seating chart, Elaine. Are you seriously going to fight this, too?” “I’m not refusing the study group,” I said quietly. “I’m just refusing to be in a group with you and Camille.” The classroom erupted into whispers. Camille, standing beside Connor, looked like she had been slapped. “Elaine,” she whispered, her voice sounding like it was about to break. “What did I do to make you hate me this much? If it’s about the seating chart, I can apologize. But I genuinely just didn’t want to see you miss out on a good college because of your Humanities scores.” Several classmates couldn’t take it anymore. “Elaine is literally targeting her.” “Camille is just trying to help because Connor asked her to. Does Elaine have to be such a bitch?” “Connor is so unlucky. He tries to help her and gets treated like garbage.” The comments were flying across my eyes. [What is wrong with Elaine? This isn’t just stubbornness; it’s straight-up malice!] [Camille is so sweet. An heiress swallowing her pride like this, only to get targeted.] [Connor, please get angry! She deserves to be put in her place!] [When she realizes how much Connor did for her, she’s going to regret this for the rest of her life.] Connor spoke, his voice dangerously low. “Elaine, enough.” He stepped closer. “I understood when you didn’t want to sit next to her. I let it go when you refused her private tutoring. I assumed you were just proud. But this is a mandatory school group. How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?” I met his gaze. “I told you, I’m not refusing the study group.” “Then why are you trying so hard to avoid Camille?” Connor demanded. “Give me one good reason.” I kept my mouth shut. It wasn’t because I didn’t have a reason. It was because I couldn’t say it yet. If I spoke up now, they would just call me paranoid, jealous of Camille, or bitter because Connor was paying attention to someone else. Just like the comments said, everyone would think I had lost my mind. Camille let out a soft, tearful laugh. “It’s fine, Connor. Elaine doesn’t like me, and I won’t force myself on her. But… I really do want to help.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a thick stack of printed papers, placing them on Mrs. Gavin’s podium. “These are the AP Literature and US History study guides I put together last night,” she said, her voice shaking slightly. “It has essay templates, thesis structures, and historical timelines. It doesn’t matter if Elaine isn’t in my group. She can have these. If they help her, that’s all I care about.” The room went quiet. Someone whispered, “That is incredibly nice…” “Seriously. After being treated like that, she still wants to help? Camille is an angel.” “If Elaine still doesn’t accept this, she’s actually psycho.” Connor’s eyes narrowed as he looked at me. “Elaine, Camille is giving you an out. Don’t make this uglier than it already is.” I looked at the stack of papers. A wave of intense nausea hit my stomach. And the comments were going wild. [The power couple strategy is finally working!] [Elaine is saved!] [Honestly, thank god Connor kept convincing Camille to help. Elaine is getting all the benefits! Connor’s planning is god-tier!] A cold shiver ran down my spine as I read those words. Seeing my silence, Connor walked over, grabbed the stack of papers from the podium, and slammed them onto my desk. “Use them. And stop being so ungrateful.” Instinct took over. I shoved the papers away. The stack slid off the desk, loose sheets scattering across the floor. The entire room fell into a stunned silence. Camille’s tears finally spilled over. “Elaine… why do you have to be like this?” Connor’s temper snapped completely. “Elaine!” he roared. “Why are you so determined to ruin your own grades rather than accept her help? Give me a reason!” Mrs. Gavin had reached her limit as well. “Elaine, you will explain yourself right now. If you don’t have a legitimate reason, you will apologize to Camille and join Connor’s group immediately.” Every eye in the room was on me. The contempt of my peers. The anger of my teacher. The profound disappointment in Connor’s eyes. The fleeting, smug triumph hidden in Camille’s tear-streaked face. And the overwhelming onslaught of comments floating in my vision. [Say something! What excuse could she possibly have?] [She’s just jealous of Camille. Plain and simple.] [Elaine is acting like absolute garbage, and Connor still cares. He is so in love.] I slowly bent down, picking up a few scattered pages from the floor. Then, I stood up and looked at Connor with a cold, mocking smile. “You want to know my reason?” “Yes,” Connor snarled. I turned to Camille. She was biting her lip, but there was a flicker of anxiety in her eyes. My lips curled. No more hiding. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll tell you.”

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At my welcome-back dinner, I pushed open the door to the VIP lounge, only to see Ethan Carter with a young girl sitting on his lap. Her sparkling eyes met my cold glare. She immediately looked down, but one of her hands remained wrapped tightly around Ethan’s neck. “Ethan, is this the legendary goddess you always talk about?” “Wow, even her wrinkles look so… distinguished! She looks great for her age.” The moment the words left her mouth, the room went dead silent. I was the first to break the silence. “So, Ethan. You’re getting up there in age, and now you’re starting to keep a sugar baby?” I walked straight over and sat down. The girl immediately snapped back, “That’s not the same! Ethan is mature!” “And—and I’m not some sugar baby. Ethan and I are in a real relationship!” I let out a cold laugh and sat directly across from Ethan. Our friends at the table quickly tried to diffuse the tension. “Hey, Vivian is finally back! Let’s get the drinks rolling!” “I heard Vivian absolutely crushed it overseas this time. You bagged the contract with the Preston Group! That’s insane, Vivian!” The atmosphere was finally warming up, but of course, the girl had to open her mouth again. “Wow, Vivian, you’re so amazing. Unlike me… I’m so clueless. I’ve never even been out of the country.” “I’ve heard that powerful career women who dominate boardroom negotiations always have their… special methods.” “Your methods must be so advanced.” As she spoke, she leaned closer into Ethan’s chest, her eyes turning red. “Unlike me. I’m so stupid. I even lost that major client for you last time, Ethan.” Hearing this, everyone at the table exchanged awkward glances, their eyes darting between Ethan and me. I frowned. “What client?” While I was abroad, my assistant mentioned that one of Ethan’s long-term clients had abruptly ended their contract. At the time, I was too busy with my own negotiations to ask. Now, the red flags were waving. Ethan held her hand and looked at me. “Just an old client. It’s fine.” “Vivian, Chloe is just a newbie. Don’t take it personally.” With that, he stroked Chloe’s hair, stood up, and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. “You want to see the world? That’s easy. I’ll take you abroad. We’ll leave right now!” Ignoring my reaction completely, Ethan pulled Chloe toward the door. Chloe’s face flushed with excitement. But when she looked back at me, her face held a smug, mocking smirk. “But… forget it. Vivian will be angry.” “I won’t be angry,” I interrupted, staring directly at Ethan. “We’re getting a divorce. You can play with her for as long as you want, wherever you want!” Ethan scoffed. “Vivian, this dramatic act doesn’t suit you.” “Divorce me? You signed a prenup. You’ll walk away with absolutely nothing. Are you really willing to lose all this?” He let out a cold grunt, pulled Chloe, and walked out. Seeing them leave, the rest of the guests made quick excuses to slip away one by one. The celebration dinner meant for me was suddenly completely empty. I looked at the food on the table and forced myself to take bite after bite. Until finally, my stomach turned. I rushed to the restroom and threw up everything. Wiping my mouth, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I pulled out my phone and texted my lawyer, telling him to draft the divorce papers immediately. When Ethan and I got married, his mother looked down on my middle-class background and forced me to sign a strict prenuptial agreement. If we divorced, I would get nothing. How hilarious. Did Ethan really think I married him for his money? He was the one who proposed to me. I never cared about his family wealth. Ethan’s threat of cutting me off financially was useless from the very beginning. I walked out of the restaurant. The cold night air made my head spin, but I forced myself to drive back to the villa. I hadn’t been back for three months, and the house was suddenly filled with things that didn’t belong to me. Tacky cartoon dishware in the kitchen, baby-pink curtains in the living room… every single item screamed cheap taste. The maid saw me and gasped in terror. “Mrs. Carter! You’re back!” “Yes.” I walked straight upstairs. The maid hesitated, looking like she wanted to say something. “Mrs. Carter…” I turned to look at her. After a few seconds of silence, she finally spoke. “Mr. Carter… he brought that girl here. They stayed in the master bedroom.” My head spun instantly. Once I regained my balance, I stormed into the master bedroom. The sight made my blood run cold. My minimalist decor was completely gone. Chloe’s cheap cartoon pillows lay right on the center of the bed. Her clothes were hanging inside my closet. And everything that belonged to me had vanished. No wonder she was so bold tonight. She had already moved herself in. I slid my wedding ring off my finger and packed my remaining things. There wasn’t much to take anyway. I sent the draft of the divorce agreement to Ethan’s Snapchat, dragged my suitcase, and left without looking back.

For five days straight, Ethan didn’t reply to my messages. Finally, I couldn’t wait any longer and went to look for him. With the Preston Group contract officially signed, my own company’s operations had stabilized. It was time to settle things with him. But before that, I made a quick stop at the hospital. Ethan and I had been married for five years without kids. We did annual checkups. The results had always been disappointing. Ethan was the one with fertility issues, so no matter how hard I tried, it was useless. But to protect his fragile ego, I never exposed him. He never brought it up either, always claiming his tests were perfect. Because of our lack of children, my mother-in-law had given me endless grief and dirty looks over the years. But today’s test results shocked me. Ethan had actually recovered. Half an hour later, I sat on a bench outside the hospital, the doctor’s words echoing in my ears. “Mr. Carter fully recovered six months ago. A month ago, he brought a young girl here for a full prenatal screening.” “You’re his assistant, right? You should expect some good news from them very soon.” I felt a sudden wave of disgust wash over me. Ethan had gone behind my back to have a baby, making it seem like I was the barren one! For five years, he stood by and watched his mother humiliate me, and when he finally got cured, he didn’t tell me. Instead, he found someone else to knock up! My decision to leave him was the best choice I had ever made. I crumpled the test results into a ball, threw them into the trash can, and headed to his company dressed in my best power suit. When I arrived at the office, I could hear loud laughter coming from the open workspace from down the hall. Someone even mentioned my name. I slowed my pace and listened. “Mr. Carter is so generous! He took you all the way to Hokkaido, and he even got you that massive diamond ring! Vivian never got a rock that big!” “Really? I don’t know much about those things,” Chloe giggled, her voice dripping with fake innocence. “I just know Ethan said I deserve the absolute best, and he’ll give me whatever I want!” Chloe was admiring the diamond ring on her finger, a smug grin plastered across her face. The staff members were crowded around her, kissing her ass. In the months I was away, she had clearly made herself the queen of the office. Everyone was so busy flattering her that no one noticed me walking in. It wasn’t until I stood right in front of her that Chloe’s smile froze. But she quickly recovered, flashing me a triumphant smirk. “Vivian! You’re here. Look what Ethan got me. Isn’t it gorgeous?” She held her hand up, flaunting the massive diamond right in my face. I raised an eyebrow. “It’s nice. I saw this design when I was in Paris. It’s worth about $400,000. But you owe me $200,000.” “What do you mean?” “You’re a side chick spending marital assets. Legally, half of that belongs to me. Pay up.” “Vivian, you must have forgotten,” Chloe mocked, looking at me condescendingly. “You signed a prenup. None of Ethan’s money is considered marital assets!” She laughed in my face. I remained calm. “Ah, thank you for reminding me. It really isn’t marital property. However…” “However what?” She sneered. “Stop bluffing, Vivian. Ethan told me he’s sick of an old woman like you. You couldn’t even give him a child in five years. He’s been done with you!” “He said looking at your crow’s feet every day makes him want to throw up. But I’m different. I can give him—” “Slap!” I delivered a hard slap right across her face, leaving her cheek instantly swollen and red. “You can give him a lot of things, but you will never take my place. Tell Ethan I’m waiting in the conference room. If he isn’t here in ten minutes, I’ll leak all of his company’s client databases to his competitors!” If he wanted a war, I’d give him one.

Hearing my threat, Ethan’s assistant immediately rushed to find him. I gave Chloe a contemptuous look and walked straight into the conference room. Behind me, I could hear her sobbing and screaming, but none of the employees dared to help her now. A moment later, Ethan slammed the door open. His face was dark with rage. “What the hell is wrong with you, Vivian? Chloe is just a kid! It’s just a ring, why do you have to be so incredibly petty?” “I don’t care about the ring, Ethan. But until our divorce is finalized, you better keep your little dog on a leash. If she barks at me again, don’t blame me for what happens next!” With a sharp “clack”, I tossed the divorce papers onto the table. “Sign it, or I’ll make the leaks public. I don’t think Carter Enterprises can survive the scandal of its CEO getting exposed like this.” Ethan let out a dry laugh and sat across from me. “Vivian, trying to get my attention like this is just pathetic.” I tapped my fingers on the table. “I don’t have patience for this. Sign.” Just then, Chloe came whimpering through the door, taking slow, dramatic steps. “Ethan… it’s all my fault. I’m the reason you guys are divorcing.” “Vivian, I’m so sorry. I’ll leave. I’ll never show my face in front of you two again.” She sobbed, turning to run out. Ethan’s face fell, and he stood up to chase after her. I grabbed his arm firmly. “Ethan, sign the paper!” “Or I will post the proof of her being your side chick all over Instagram right now!” “Remember, I might not have the Carter family wealth, but you have plenty of enemies who would love to watch you fall!” Ethan gritted his teeth. Suddenly, a gasp echoed from the hallway outside. “Oh my god, Chloe!” Then came a loud scream. “Chloe just fell down the stairs!” Ethan violently shook off my hand and ran out. His precious side chick had tumbled down the stairs and was now clutching her leg, crying tears of agony. Ethan swept her up into his arms. The sheer panic and devotion on his face were clear for everyone to see. “Ethan, just let me go… everyone is calling me a homewrecker, I…” “Who dares! You are not a homewrecker. You are the love of my life!” I leaned against the conference room doorframe, holding up my phone to record their little melodrama. I smiled mockingly. “You two really are soulmates. I wonder how much the Carter Enterprises stock will drop once I post this touching video.” Ethan glared at me, his veins popping. “Vivian!” “No need to yell, I can hear you perfectly.” “Sign the papers, or prepare to lose everything.” “You might think you’re untouchable, but the life of a publicly exposed side chick won’t be very fun.” “I heard she goes to Trident University. Coincidentally, so did I. I have plenty of alumni contacts.” I stared at Ethan. He knew me. He knew that once I decided to go all in, I wouldn’t stop until I tore a piece of flesh right out of him. Chloe’s face turned deathly pale. “Vivian…” “Don’t call my name. I’m an only child. My parents didn’t raise a homewrecker.” Chloe burst into fresh tears. “Ethan, put me down. I’ll go. I’ll just leave!” What a grade-A actress. Did Ethan really not see through her? Of course he did. He just chose to ignore it. I threw the papers onto his chest and pulled out my phone. “If you don’t sign right now, I’m hitting send.” Gritting his teeth, Ethan snatched the pen and violently scribbled his signature. He threw the pen at me in rage, the black ink splashing onto the hem of my white designer dress. “Vivian, you’re going to regret this!” Ethan roared. Without saying a word, I picked up the signed divorce papers and walked away without looking back. Goodbye, Ethan. We are done.

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The day I got my college acceptance letter, I didn’t get a hug from Eleanor. Instead, a heavy, dusty wooden box slammed shut right by my feet. The box was old and locked. It was “Nesta’s Box,” the one thing she had never allowed me to touch. “Open it,” Eleanor said, her voice dripping with ice. My hands shook as I unlocked it. Inside, there were no childhood photos, no nostalgic letters. There were only two thick stacks of hand-cut paper slips. One stack was a dingy yellow with rough edges. Written on them in blue ballpoint pen were things like: [Shivering in the freezing rain], [Eating rancid leftovers], [Sick with no medicine]. The other stack was pale pink, beautifully printed. They read: [A warm classroom], [A fresh hot meal], [A clean, cozy bed]. Eleanor told me that from now on, my life would be dictated by whatever I drew from this box. Before I could even process what was happening, Eleanor snatched the box away. She dumped both stacks of slips onto the table, shuffling them together like a deck of cards. Her eyes were bloodshot. She stared at me with a wild, crazed hatred I had never seen before. “Clara, you’ve always wondered where your sister is, haven’t you?” She grabbed one of the yellow slips and slapped it in front of my face. “Let me tell you. She is probably living through every single nightmare on these papers right now! And you? You get to enjoy all of this!” She scooped up a handful of the pink slips and threw them directly at my face. “It was you! You stole her life! Now you have to pay it back!” Eleanor’s voice shrieked, piercing my eardrums. “From this day on, for every bit of comfort you enjoy, you will suffer a nightmare for Nesta! That is the only way to make it fair!” She violently shoved the mixed slips back into the wooden box, leaving only a tiny gap big enough for two fingers. “Draw! Three slips every single day! Whatever you draw, you do! You owe her this! You deserve it!” I stood there, completely frozen. My blood ran cold. Was this raving lunatic really my mother? The same woman who used to tuck my cold hands into her jacket? The woman who used to tear up whenever I said, “I love you, Mom”? “Draw!” Eleanor screamed, her glare sharp as a knife. I closed my eyes, slid my hand into the freezing box, and felt the rough edges of the paper. I pulled out three slips. The first was pink: [A warm bed]. Eleanor let out a cold laugh. “That’s the comfort you enjoyed last night.” The second was yellow: [Frostbitten fingers]. The third was yellow: [Ice water poured over your head]. Eleanor snatched the two yellow slips from my hand. A cruel, satisfied smile spread across her face. “It’s 37 degrees outside today. Perfect weather. You enjoyed the warmth. Now, pay the debt.” She grabbed my wrist and dragged me out to the fire escape. Then, she went into the kitchen, filled a massive bucket with ice-cold water, and dumped it over my head without a second thought. The freezing water instantly soaked through my sweater. My body convulsed, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. Before I could even gasp for air, Eleanor grabbed my dripping wet hands and forced them onto the freezing iron railing of the fire escape. “You drew frostbitten fingers, didn’t you? Feel it! This is nothing compared to what Nesta went through!” She pinned my hands down, ignoring my frantic struggles, until the sharp sting in my fingertips turned entirely numb. After that day, my life became a twisted, cruel ritual of penance. Every morning, the first thing I did was reach into that cursed wooden box with trembling hands. If I drew [A fresh hot meal], I had to go to the dirty dumpster behind the school dining hall and stand there for ten minutes, breathing in the stench of rotting garbage, before I was “allowed” to eat. If I drew [A bright classroom], I had to take a freezing cold shower in the dark communal bathroom at night. If I drew [A friend’s greeting], I had to be hostile to everyone I met that day, pushing away anyone who tried to show me kindness. To everyone else at college, my life looked perfectly normal. But inside, I was rotting away. I became a ghost wandering around campus. I didn’t dare make friends. I didn’t dare accept any kindness. Because I never knew what kind of torture slip I would draw the next day to pay for it. A month later, the first major winter storm hit the city. I caught a terrible flu. My fever was so high that my forehead felt like it was on fire. My roommates were terrified and tried to pull me out of bed to go to the clinic. “Don’t… don’t touch me…”

I shrank back, too weak to fight. My fear was far greater than my sickness. I hadn’t drawn today’s slips yet. If I went to the clinic and then drew a punishment that required me to go outside, I wouldn’t have the strength to do it. I dragged myself out of bed and fell to my knees in front of the box. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold the paper slips. I took a deep breath and drew three. The first was pink: [Medicine when sick]. That was the cold medicine my roommate had given me this morning. The second was yellow: [No doctors when sick]. The third was yellow: [Kneel in the snow]. Outside the window, light snow was already beginning to fall. My heart sank to my stomach. Eleanor’s rule was absolute: the daily “debt” had to be paid before midnight. I pulled on my thickest puffer jacket and stumbled out of the warm dorm building. The icy wind cut through my face like tiny blades. The snowflakes melted on my burning skin, sending violent shudders down my spine. I walked to the deserted woods behind the dorms, found a snowy corner, and painfully sank to my knees. The biting cold instantly traveled from my knees through my entire body. The fever made my head spin, and I nearly blacked out right then and there. I bit my lip hard, using every ounce of willpower to stay upright. Time crawled. Every second felt like an eternity. I don’t know how long passed, but just as my vision started to blur, a warm coat was suddenly draped over my shoulders. I snapped my head up. Through my blurry eyes, I saw Chloe, my roommate. Her face was pale with worry and anger. “Clara! Are you insane?! You have a massive fever and you’re kneeling in the snow! You’re going to kill yourself!” She tried to pull me up. “Leave me alone… please…” I struggled weakly, my tears mixing with the melting snow. “I owe this… I have to pay it back…” “Who do you owe? What the hell are you doing?!” Chloe was furious and crying at the same time. “What kind of mother does this to her daughter? I’m taking you back, and then I am calling your mother!” Calling Eleanor? My entire body went rigid. A chill colder than the snow shot straight down my spine. According to the rules, accepting Chloe’s help counted as [Being cared for while sick]—a new comfort. But the punishment slip [Kneel in the snow] had been interrupted. I hadn’t finished it. According to Eleanor’s twisted logic, enjoying a comfort without paying the debt was a mortal sin. I could already see Eleanor’s cold, mocking face, hearing her announce an even worse punishment. What if there was something far worse than kneeling in the snow waiting for me in that box? Chloe forced me to my feet. I couldn’t feel my legs at all. The moment she dialed the phone, I closed my eyes in utter despair. Eleanor’s ringtone seemed to echo right in my ears, pounding against my frayed nerves. In the end, Eleanor didn’t pick up. She declined the call. But I knew this was just the suffocating quiet before the storm. Sure enough, less than ten minutes later, my phone vibrated like a death warrant. The word “Mom” flashing on the screen looked absolutely terrifying. I instinctively pushed Chloe away, stumbled into the empty stairwell, and pressed answer. “Wow, Clara. Look at you, getting so brave. You’re hiring outside help now?” Eleanor’s voice was terrifyingly calm, like a frozen lake hiding a deadly current underneath. “You didn’t finish [Kneel in the snow], and you got a freebie with [Being cared for while sick]? You really think you can cheat the system?” I leaned against the cold concrete wall, shivering so hard my teeth clicked. “Mom… I…” “Don’t call me Mom!” She screamed, her voice piercing and sharp. “You think you can enjoy life without paying? Rules are rules! Since you didn’t pay yesterday’s debt and still took the comfort, the interest has doubled!”

Over the line, I heard the sound of papers rustling. Then came her cold, final judgment. “Tomorrow is Saturday. You don’t have classes. I’ve prepared a special ‘Combo Pack’ for you. Be home by 6:00 AM sharp. You’re going to pay back everything you owe, with interest, all at once!” “A Combo Slip?” My heart stopped. A terror far hotter than my fever gripped my chest. “That’s right! One slip, triple the pain! It’s the only way to teach a cheat like you a lesson!” She slammed the phone down before I could say a word. The dial tone echoed in my ear. My legs gave out, and I slid down the wall onto the cold floor. The draft in the stairwell blew through my damp clothes, feeling like a thousand needles stabbing my skin. “Clara! There you are!” Chloe found me. When she saw the state I was in, she panicked and wrapped her coat tighter around me. “What did she say? Did she scream at you? Don’t be scared, I’ll—” “Chloe,” I looked up, tears streaming down my face. I looked pathetic. “Tomorrow… I have to go home. Just… don’t get involved. Please.” I knew that if Chloe got dragged into this, Eleanor would count it as another “debt” I’d have to pay back in an even more horrific way. That night, I tossed and turned in my dorm bed, tortured by the fever and sheer terror. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Eleanor’s crazed face and that cursed wooden box. The next morning at 5:30 AM, before the sun was even up, I dragged my burning, exhausted body out of the dorm. I felt dizzy as I boarded the early morning bus, feeling like a prisoner walking to the electric chair. I arrived home at exactly 6:00 AM. Eleanor was already sitting on the living room couch, fully dressed, her face expressionless. The evil wooden box sat on the coffee table. Next to it was a new stack of slips—noticeably thicker and made of dark brown Kraft paper. “Punctual. Good.” She looked up and pointed at the dark slips. “Draw. Let’s see what kind of hell you’ve brought upon yourself.” I walked to the table. My fingers were stiff and cold. The opening of the box looked like the mouth of a monster waiting to swallow me whole. I closed my eyes, slid my hand inside, and pulled one out. On the dark brown paper, written in blood-red marker, were three chilling lines: [The abandoned hospital corridor] [Blindfolded walk] [Listening to ‘Nesta’s’ cries] I gasped, the blood draining from my face. Eleanor took the slip. As she read the words, a twisted, ecstatic smile spread across her face, as if she had been waiting for this exact moment. “You know the abandoned asylum on the west side of town, right?” She said slowly, “I’ve already picked the spot for you. As for the ‘listening’ part…” She turned around, pulled an old cassette player and a pair of headphones from the TV cabinet, and threw them at me. “This has recordings of the sounds your sister probably made. Go. Stay there for two hours. And remember, you must be blindfolded to truly hear her.” She threw a strip of black cloth at me. Her eyes held no maternal warmth—only the fanatical obsession of a cult leader. Looking at her—the woman I had called Mom for eighteen years—I finally realized something. This wasn’t a punishment. This wasn’t a debt. This was a human sacrifice.

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To teach me independence, my parents made me pay for everything with hard labor. If I wanted a glass of water, I had to clean the toilet. If I wanted a decent meal, I had to wash the entire family’s laundry. Usually, I managed to scrape by. But on my sixth birthday, I ran a burning fever and physically couldn’t drag myself out of bed. Dizzy with hunger and shivering under the sheets, I cried and begged them. “Mom, Dad, please… I feel so sick. Can I just have a glass of water?” My mother, Helen, shook her head with a cold, firm expression. “No way. Rules are rules, Chloe. Don’t think you can use a little cold as an excuse to be lazy!” My father, Arthur, went even further. He dragged me out of bed by my collar and threw me out into the backyard, right into the freezing snow. He said it was to “build my character.” Before I lost consciousness, I could hear their muffled voices drifting from the warm living room. “Tomorrow is Lily Rose’s sixth birthday. Let’s get her that latest giant Barbie Dreamhouse set and the remote-control power wheel, okay?” “Let’s also load a ten-thousand-dollar cash card for her. That sweet little girl always smiles when she sees us. She’s so much more well-behaved than our Chloe!” Hearing this, a single tear froze on my cheek. So, it was only me. Only their biological daughter had to pay a price for every basic human need. But Mom, Dad… I won’t have another birthday.

In the snow, the warmth was rapidly draining from my body. Just when I thought I would freeze to death, a pair of rough hands dragged me back into the mansion. “What a nuisance!” I opened my eyes to see the disgusted face of Mrs. Gable, our housekeeper. She wasn’t saving me out of pity. She was just terrified that a dead body at the front door would bring bad luck and ruin her job. When I woke up again, I was in my tiny, drafty room. “Since you’re awake, stop playing dead.” My father’s cold, detached voice came from the doorway. He sat in a chair nearby, tore a page from his thick black leather ledger, and tossed it onto my face. “Mrs. Gable dragged you in and stained the entryway rug. Your punishment is to hand-wash every carpet in this house.” “Also, the down jacket you were wearing got soaked in the snow. That’s another three days of washing everyone’s laundry by hand.” Arthur pushed up his glasses, his eyes chillingly sharp. “And since you did zero work yesterday, your mother and I weren’t going to let you eat today.” “But considering you need strength to work off your debt, you are permitted to have two slices of plain, dry bread today. However, you will owe me for those slices later!” His calculating gaze held not a single ounce of warmth or pity for his daughter. I struggled to sit up, wanting to say something. But the moment I opened my mouth to breathe, a warm, metallic taste rushed up my throat. I coughed violently, splattering bright red blood all over the floor. It was a horrific sight. Just then, my mother came downstairs. She was holding a stunning, custom-made pink princess dress—obviously the birthday gift for Lily Rose from next door. Seeing the blood on the floor, she frowned in disgust and immediately took two steps back. “Ugh! How repulsive! Coughing up blood first thing in the morning? If you’re going to die, can you do it outside? Do you have any idea how hard it is to clean marble floors?” She turned to Arthur. “Arthur, I don’t think she’s learning her lesson at all. Add another month of living room deep-cleaning to her ledger!” Arthur nodded coldly and scribbled another line in his thick black book. “Go eat after you clean this up,” he said flatly. My heart squeezed in agonizing pain. I didn’t understand. Why did “character building” have to be this extreme, this cruel? I wanted to be like Lily. I wanted to receive beautiful gifts and feel loved. But I had to swallow those words. Every time I had tried to express my feelings in the past, it only resulted in harsher punishments. I silently wiped the blood from my lips with the back of my hand. “I understand… I’ll clean it.” “You talk a big game! With what strength?” Helen sneered. “With that fragile, pathetic body of yours? If you ask me, you’re just physically weak because you don’t work enough. From now on, you’ll have to do double the labor to earn your meals!” I remained silent for a long time. Finally, I whispered in a raspy, broken voice. “I understand.” “I will scrub the floors. I will finish all the chores.” I leaned against the wall, trembling as I stood up. I had to clear my debt to them before I died. That way, I could leave this world clean.

Over the next few days, I worked like a wound-up toy. The moment I opened my eyes, I was cleaning. Meanwhile, my fever kept roaring back. My body was breaking down. Every violent coughing fit ended with blood in my spit. But I never dared let them see. I was terrified they would call me “dramatic” and double my chores again. So I worked through the pain. Even when my hands cracked and bled from the freezing water, I didn’t dare stop. Finally, on a quiet afternoon. I used the excuse of taking out the trash to slip away. Clutching the $120 I had secretly saved over the years by collecting and recycling plastic bottles, I walked to the nearest hospital. That money was supposed to buy me a tiny birthday cupcake one day. I didn’t need a cupcake anymore. The doctor stared at my test results, his brows knitted tightly. He looked at me, hesitating. “Sweetheart, where are your parents?” “They are… very busy.” I tried to calm my racing heart and forced a small smile. “Doctor, you can just tell me. How much time do I have left?” The doctor froze. But I wasn’t surprised. I had been diagnosed with a terminal illness a month ago during a school screening. But no one at home ever listened to me. They didn’t care if I was sick or healthy. “Child, if we admit you for treatment right now, there might still be a sliver of hope…” the doctor said, his voice trembling slightly. I shook my head and cut him off. “Just tell me the final timeline, please.” The doctor choked up. After a long pause, he sighed deeply. “One month. At most.” “Your bone marrow has stopped producing healthy blood cells. On top of that, you are severely malnourished. Some of your organs are failing before they’ve even fully developed.” I sat there, dazed. “One month…” I let out a bitter, silent laugh, looking down at my scarred, calloused hands. One month. That was enough. It was enough time to pay back everything I owed them. “I won’t be doing the treatment.” I placed the stack of crumpled dollar bills on his desk. “Sir, is this enough to buy pain medication? I just want it to hurt less when I go.” The doctor fell silent again. I saw his eyes turn red. Eventually, he turned his back to me, his shoulders shaking slightly. He only took $5 for the consultation fee but handed me a large bottle of strong pain relievers. I felt a sudden swell of happiness. So, I didn’t have to work myself to death to receive a little bit of kindness. When I got home, the mansion was incredibly lively. Today was Lily Rose’s birthday party. My parents had transformed the house into a pink wonderland. Balloons and fresh roses were everywhere. The price of a single rose bouquet could have fed me for a month. Lily sat in the center of the sofa like a real princess, wearing that designer dress worth tens of thousands of dollars. Helen was gently guiding her hand to cut the cake, her face glowing with maternal love. “Our Lily is so beautiful. Come on, make a wish, sweetie!” Arthur stood nearby, recording the whole thing with a high-end camera. The adoration in their eyes was something I had never seen in my entire life. Suddenly, a sharp, stabbing pain flared in my stomach. It was so intense that I doubled over. Struggling to stay upright, I slowly dragged my feet into the kitchen to pour myself a glass of water. “What are you doing? Sneaking around like a thief!” Helen’s sharp voice suddenly pierced the air.

Helen set her plate down and glared at me, her brow furrowed in irritation. “I… wanted some water.” My lips were pale from the pain, and my voice shook. But Arthur walked over, pointing his camera directly at my face. “Chloe, we have rules. Everything you consume in this house must be earned through labor.” “Who gave you permission to just take water?” His camera was his favorite tool of humiliation. He loved recording my most pathetic, shameful moments so he could play them back later to “remind me to obey.” Helen leaned back on the sofa, her voice dripping with cold indifference. “We strictly discipline you because we want you to be independent. We want you to understand that only hard work gets you fed.” “But since you love taking shortcuts so much, fine. Warm water is ten dollars a cup. Cold water is five.” She held out her hand, staring into my eyes. “Pay up, and you can drink as much as you want!” There was absolutely no warmth in her voice. Lily sat nearby, eating her cake, her face covered in frosting. “Chloe, don’t you have any money? You’re so pathetic. Imagine having to pay for water in your own house…” she giggled innocently. My parents laughed along, completely unbothered. At this point, I couldn’t even feel the pain in my heart anymore. It was numb. With trembling hands, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my remaining cash. “Fine. I’ll buy it.” I counted the bills and placed them in Helen’s palm. “I want a cup of warm water.” Helen froze, clearly not expecting me to actually have cash. But she quickly pocketed the money. “Hmph, let’s see how much money you have left to waste!” She turned back to resume Lily’s birthday celebration. I huddled in the dark corner of the kitchen, swallowing the pain pills with my expensive cup of warm water. The medicine took a long time to kick in. It wasn’t until midnight that the pain subsided slightly. Under the moonlight, I pulled out a small notebook. It was a diary of all my labor and punishments. I wrote down the very last entry. Then, I slipped my crumpled terminal diagnosis sheet into the very first page of the notebook. I spent the rest of the night scrubbing every single floorboard in the mansion. I cleaned every corner until it was spotless. I washed all the dirty laundry and hung it up on the balcony. By the time I finished everything, it was 4:00 AM. I was breathing heavily, but I didn’t dare rest. I threw my worn-out backpack over my shoulders. Inside, there was only the bottle of pain medication. I turned around. I took one last look at this house where I had lived for six years—a place that had not given me a single happy memory. Goodbye, Mom. Goodbye, Dad. I have paid back every debt I owed you in this lifetime. If there is a next life, I would rather be a blade of grass by the road than your daughter. I pushed open the heavy front door and walked out into the endless, freezing night.

The next morning. Helen stretched as she walked downstairs. Out of habit, she yelled, “Chloe! Where’s breakfast? Are you slacking off again?” No one answered. Only her own echo bounced off the walls of the empty mansion. Helen’s face darkened. Impatiently, she marched to my tiny room and kicked the door open. “Chloe, stop faking sick! Get up right—” Her voice cut off. The room was completely empty. The bed was made perfectly, the sheets folded neatly. But the backpack that usually sat by the bed was gone. “Arthur! Arthur, come down here!” “Chloe is gone!” An icy pit opened in Helen’s stomach. She began to panic. Arthur walked out of the upstairs bathroom, frowning. “Don’t scream. Go check the backyard. She’s probably sweeping the garden.” “No! All of her things are gone!” Helen’s voice pitched higher, trembling. Arthur’s expression shifted. He sprinted down the stairs. He burst into my room, his eyes instantly locking onto the black notebook sitting on the desk. “Is this… a ledger?” He frowned, flipping through the pages. Suddenly, a thin piece of paper slipped out and fluttered to the floor. Helen instinctively reached out and caught it. The moment she read the words printed at the top, the color drained from her face. “A terminal diagnosis?” Arthur snatched the paper, his eyes scanning the page. “Late-stage Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia… with multiple organ failure…” “Patient: Chloe Miller?!” Arthur’s mind went completely blank. He clutched the diagnosis paper, reading the name over and over to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. “This diagnosis was from a month ago? Why didn’t she ever tell us?” Arthur was shaking violently. Suddenly, all of his daughter’s “weird” behaviors over the past month rushed back into his mind. He remembered how he had thrown her out into the snow just two days ago, letting her freeze for an hour. He remembered how he had doubled her chores… Helen collapsed onto the floor, desperately flipping through the notebook. “No wonder she kept saying she was in pain… I thought… I thought she was just being dramatic!” Her heart squeezed in suffocating guilt. Then, she saw the note written on the cover page: “Mom, Dad,” “I have finished every single chore I owed you.” “I left all my remaining money on the desk. Consider it the final interest on my existence.” “The doctor said I’m going to die soon.” “You always complained about how expensive it was to raise me. But don’t worry. Once I’m dead, you’ll save so much money.” “You can use that money to buy Lily more beautiful dresses.” “Yesterday, I wanted water. Mom said it cost ten dollars, so I paid for it.” “That was my very last purchase in this house.” “I don’t owe you anything anymore.” “In our next life, please… let’s never meet again.” Every single word felt like a bloody knife stabbing directly into Arthur and Helen’s chests. “Yesterday… when she asked for water… was she in pain?” Helen’s face was ghostly white. Her brain felt completely paralyzed. Her own daughter had a terminal illness. She had been diagnosed a month ago. And during this entire month… Neither of them had noticed a single thing? “What… what did we do?” Helen wailed, clutching the ledger to her chest as her tears finally spilled over. Arthur bit his lip so hard it bled. Looking at his daughter’s final, heartbreaking words, a wave of regret and pure terror completely swallowed him. She was really gone. “No… No!” “We have to find her! Now!” Arthur let out a guttural, agonizing scream. He ran out of the front door like a madman, losing one of his shoes in the process, not caring at all.

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My lease was up, so I moved in with my best friend and her boyfriend. But not long after we started roommates, they got into a terrible car accident. Her boyfriend ended up paralyzed from the waist down after saving her life. Instead of staying, my best friend packed her bags, dumped him on me, and ran off in the middle of the night. Faced with a paralyzed, helpless man, I decided to stay and look after him for a while. But living alone together—especially having to help him use the bathroom—was enough to make my heart race and my face burn red… “Babe, why are you still stressing about finding a place? Just move in with me and my boyfriend!” Amber’s suggestion made me hesitate. While I loved the idea of living with my best friend so we could look out for each other, sharing an apartment with her boyfriend felt like it might be a bit awkward. My lease was ending, and I had spent two fruitless weeks searching for a decent apartment. When Amber found out, she told me they had a spare bedroom and practically begged me to move in. They rented a nice two-bedroom apartment. She had brought up the idea before, but I had declined, not wanting to be a third wheel. Now, backed into a corner by the rental market, I had no choice but to accept. When I agreed, both Amber and her boyfriend welcomed me with open arms. Her boyfriend, Austin, was tall, athletic, and incredibly handsome—he looked a bit like Jacob Elordi. He worked as a youth basketball coach at a local sports club. His hours were flexible, and he was an amazing cook. Whenever he was home, he’d always whip up delicious meals and invite me to eat with them. Amber worked as a receptionist at a local firm. The pay wasn’t great, but the job was easy and stress-free. Although they had to budget carefully, they were happy and full of hope for the future. Seeing my best friend with such a great guy made me genuinely happy for her. I couldn’t help but feel a little envious, wondering when I would find my own Mr. Right. But our peaceful life didn’t last long. An unexpected tragedy completely derailed everything. About four months after I moved in, I was out shopping when my phone rang. It was Amber. “Chloe, Austin and I got into a car accident. We’re at the hospital right now!” My heart skipped a beat. I gripped my phone tightly, panic rising in my chest. “What? An accident? Which hospital? Are you guys okay?” “We’re in the ER at Mercy Hospital. Our IDs and health insurance cards are in our bedroom drawer. The front door is unlocked. Can you please bring them over?” “Yes, yes, of course! I’m on my way.” I hung up and rushed home as fast as I could. I ran into their bedroom, found their documents in the drawer, and dashed to the hospital. When I reached the ER, the nurse told me, “They’ve just been transferred to a ward. Since you’re here, could you go to the front desk and help them with the admission paperwork?” “Sure, I’ll go right now. Nurse, how bad is it?” The nurse stopped what she was doing and sighed. “The girl is fine. Just minor scrapes. We’ll keep her for observation today, and she can go home tomorrow. The guy, however, is in bad shape. His legs took a severe impact. He has no sensation in them. There’s serious nerve damage, and he’ll likely be paralyzed from the waist down. He might spend the rest of his life in bed.”

Paralyzed? My breath caught in my throat. For an active basketball coach who lived for sports, losing his legs was a fate worse than death. I couldn’t fathom how he would handle such a devastating blow. With a heavy heart, I finished the paperwork and found their hospital room. The room was dead silent. Austin was lying flat on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. Amber sat at the foot of the bed with her head down. Neither of them said a word. The atmosphere was suffocating. Seeing me walk in, Amber finally broke down, tears streaming down her face. “Chloe, it’s all my fault… I shouldn’t have forced him to run that light…” Through her sobbing, I gradually put the pieces together. Amber had been studying for her real estate license and had weekend classes. That morning, Austin was dropping her off on his Vespa. Running late, she kept pressuring him to speed and run a red light. He did, and a SUV driving on a green light slammed right into them. Since Austin ran the light, he was fully at fault. To make matters worse, his moped only had basic liability insurance. No comprehensive coverage meant they had to pay every penny of the astronomical medical bills themselves. Their entire world had just collapsed. I rubbed my temples, frustrated. “Amber, what were you thinking? No matter how late you are, you don’t run a red light! Do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” Amber was still trying to justify it. “How was I supposed to know a car would actually hit us? He ran red lights for me all the time before, and we were always fine.” As her best friend, there were harsh words I wanted to say, but there was no point in arguing now. I offered what little comfort I could and handed her all the cash I had in my purse. I had rushed over so quickly I hadn’t had time to stop at an ATM. I wanted to say something to Austin, but looking at his hollow expression, I knew nothing would register. With a sigh, I left the hospital. The next day, I went back to visit. The tension in the room was palpable. They weren’t speaking to each other. It looked like they had a massive fight. I pulled Amber out into the hallway and urged her to be supportive. Austin was going through the darkest moment of his life. “I know, I know. Just go home, Chloe,” she replied, her tone dripping with impatience. On the third day, before I could even make it to the hospital, Amber walked through our front door, pushing Austin in a wheelchair. “Why are you guys discharged so soon?” I asked, shocked. “His physical injuries are fine, it’s just the nerve damage in his legs,” Amber said coldly. “Whether he stays in the hospital or not, he’s not going to walk again. Why waste money on a hospital bed?” She clearly didn’t want to talk about it and wheeled Austin straight into their bedroom. Sensing their miserable mood, I kept to myself, staying in my room and working late into the night. The next morning, I was woke up by a phone call from Amber. “Chloe, I have some errands to run today. Can you please keep an eye on Austin for me?” I agreed without a second thought. “Of course. Go take care of what you need to.” “Thank you, Chloe. I’m really glad I have you as a friend.” Her voice sounded incredibly low and heavy. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I got out of bed and walked over to their room. The door was wide open. Austin was awake, lying motionless in bed, staring blankly into space. “Hey, Austin. Do you want something to eat?” I asked softly, stepping closer. “No, thank you,” he mumbled, shaking his head. “How about some water?” This time, he didn’t refuse. I filled a glass and held a straw to his lips. He drank the entire glass in one go. By lunchtime, Austin still refused to eat. He only accepted another glass of water, no matter how much I tried to persuade him to eat. As night fell, there was still no sign of Amber. She hadn’t even called. A sickening feeling settled in my stomach. I walked into their bedroom and looked around. My heart sank. Amber’s suitcases were gone. Her makeup, her clothes—everything was completely cleared out. No way… A terrifying realization hit me.

I dialed Amber’s number. The moment she picked up, I demanded, “Tell me the truth. Did you run away?” There was a long silence on the other end. Then, she sobbed, “Chloe, I had to. I can’t do this. I can’t spend the rest of my life bound to a cripple!” Anger flared hot in my chest. I raised my voice, “Amber, I can’t believe you! Austin has done nothing but love and care for you. Have you no conscience?” Amber’s voice suddenly turned cold and detached. “A conscience doesn’t pay the bills, Chloe. My parents would never let me marry a paralyzed man. I thought about it all night at the hospital. It’s better to rip the band-aid off now. Breaking up is the only choice.” I couldn’t believe these cruel words were coming from my best friend. She continued, “I’m only twenty-six. I have a whole life ahead of me. I don’t want to spend the rest of my days tied down by a paralyzed man. If you were in my shoes, you’d make the same choice.” “He wouldn’t even be in that wheelchair if you hadn’t forced him to run that light! You ruined his life, and now you’re just going to walk away?” “I am not you, Amber. Even if I were in your shoes, I would never do something so heartless.” I couldn’t take it anymore and started screaming at her. “Fine! I’m the heartless bitch, and you’re the saint,” Amber snapped. “Why don’t you take care of Austin then?” With that, she hung up. When I tried to call back, I realized she had blocked my number on Snapchat and phone calls. I took a few deep breaths, trying to steady my racing heart. I realized my loud argument with Amber had been fully heard by Austin. I peeked into his room. He was looking at me. His once bright eyes were hollow, filled with a painful mix of guilt, sorrow, and regret. I sighed and walked back to his bedside. Neither of us spoke for a long time. Finally, I broke the silence. “What do we do now? Should we call your family?” Austin whispered, “I don’t have any family.” “You’re… an orphan?” I asked, stunned. “Yeah,” he nodded bitterly. Looking at him like this, I knew I couldn’t just abandon him. I had to step up and take care of him, at least for now. “Hey, don’t worry about it,” I said, forcing a cheerful smile. “I’ll take care of you from now on. Just tell me whenever you need anything.” “You need to stay positive to recover. The doctor said there’s still a chance. Don’t give up hope.” I used a playful, bossy tone to lighten the heavy atmosphere, trying to spark some hope in him. “Yeah. I will get better,” he murmured. My optimism seemed to reach him. For the first time since the accident, a faint smile appeared on his face. Realizing he hadn’t eaten all day, I went to the kitchen and made him a bowl of chicken noodle soup. Honestly, it was the only thing I knew how to cook. I wasn’t sure if it tasted any good, but Austin ate every last drop. Afterward, we chatted for a bit. I started the conversation just to keep his mind off things. I talked about my work as a TikTok content creator, and he shared stories about his dreams of coaching in the big leagues. The conversation was easy and warm. The more I talked to Austin, the more I realized what a genuinely wonderful guy he was. “Chloe, actually…” Austin looked at me, hesitating. “What is it?” I asked. “I… need to use the bathroom,” he said, his face flushing crimson. “Could you just… hand me a plastic bottle?” It took my brain a second to register what he meant. When it did, my face burned furiously. It hit me then what “taking care” of a grown man actually entailed. I grabbed a bottle, handed it to him, and practically bolted out of the room, leaning against the door to catch my breath. Once he was done, I emptied the bottle in the bathroom. Realizing he hadn’t had a proper wash in days, I decided to go all the way and help him clean up. I brought a basin of warm water to his bedside. In a voice barely louder than a whisper, I said, “Can you take off your shirt? I’ll give you a sponge bath.”

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Because I loved my wife so much, I secretly got a vasectomy when our son turned five. But six months later, she looked me in the eye and told me she was pregnant. She even blamed me, saying I was too selfishly focused on my own pleasure and refused to use protection. But how could that baby possibly be mine? There was no doubt about it—my wife was cheating on me. I did some digging in secret, only to find out that the other man was someone incredibly close to us. Talk about not dirtying your own backyard—she literally picked someone right under my nose! “Babe, can you go to the hospital with me tomorrow?” That night, after putting our son to sleep, my wife, Chloe, came back to the living room and sat down next to me on the couch. She looked at me with a slight pout. “My period is late this month. I took a test this morning… it’s a double line.” I froze. I stared at her, completely dumbfounded. I almost thought my ears were playing tricks on me. It wasn’t until she gave me a sharp, annoyed nudge that I snapped out of it. My very first reaction was that it was impossible. “Are you… are you sure the test wasn’t faulty?” “Then how else do you explain my missed period?” She seemed genuinely angry now, glaring at me. “This is all your fault.” “Every single time, you just care about how it feels and refuse to wear a condom. I told you a million times that tracking my cycle isn’t a hundred percent safe!” “Now look what happened.” “Ugh, look at you, acting like nothing happened while I’m the one who has to go through all the pain…” I didn’t say a word. Though my face remained perfectly calm, a massive storm was raging in my chest. I had always thought I had the perfect, happy family. Our son, Leo, was almost six. Both Chloe and I had stable jobs, and neither of us had any bad habits. But the words coming out of her mouth right now instantly shattered every ounce of happiness I thought I possessed. Since we got married, we had never used condoms. Neither of us liked the barrier. In the beginning, she was on birth control pills. But taking those long-term isn’t good for a woman’s body. Six months ago, three days after Leo’s fifth birthday, I secretly went to a clinic and got a vasectomy. I didn’t tell her. It wasn’t that I wanted to lie to her; it was just a stupid male ego thing, I guess. Over the past six months, even though Chloe had stopped taking the pill, I was always careful to only have intimate times during her safe window. So, even though she’d been off the pill for half a year, nothing had happened, and she never suspected a thing. But now, she was telling me she was pregnant? Was this a question of whether her calendar method was safe? This was a flashing, neon-green sign that I was being cuckolded! Honestly, I was furious. Livid, even. But I had been a quiet, reserved guy since I was a kid. Plus, the sheer shock of it triggered a survival instinct to suppress my rage. I kept my face completely blank. More importantly… I wanted to know who the hell this guy was. He slept with my wife, and now I was supposed to take the fall? I had to listen to her nagging and complaining, and tomorrow I was expected to pay for her abortion? They had their fun, and I was the one cleaning up the mess? This was more pathetic than being a literal pushover. This guy had some serious balls, incredible stealth, and apparently, a completely clear conscience. If I didn’t drag this bastard into the light to see who he was, I would never be able to live with myself. “I’m so sorry, babe. It’s my fault. I promise I’ll be more careful in the future. I won’t make you go through this again.” Holding back my raging fury, I apologized to her with the most sincere face I could muster. Seeing her expression soften slightly, I quickly changed the subject. “But I really can’t take time off for the next couple of days.” “The company just landed a massive account. The deadline is crazy tight. No one is allowed to take leave, and we all have to work overtime.” “If I go against management right now, I might lose my end-of-year bonus…” This was a reason she couldn’t argue with. And I knew for a fact that she wouldn’t go to the hospital alone tomorrow. In all likelihood, she would call the actual bastard who was responsible for this mess to go with her…

That night, neither Chloe nor I slept. We tossed and turned, staring at the ceiling. For me, the reason was obvious. What normal man could sleep peacefully after finding out his beloved wife had cheated on him? But as for why Chloe was so restless, that was up for debate. Was she worried about the procedure tomorrow? Or was she missing her secret lover? I gritted my teeth in the dark, vowing to expose the bastard tomorrow. The next morning, I acted completely normal. I even swallowed my disgust to offer Chloe some comforting words before leaving the house. But obviously, I didn’t go to the office. I called in sick and drove straight to a local auto repair shop run by a buddy of mine. I made up some excuse about my car’s engine acting up and asked them to do a quick maintenance check. Then, I borrowed an old, beat-up rental sedan from them and drove right back. I parked the car across the street from my apartment complex. And I waited. Sure enough, around nine o’clock, Chloe’s car pulled out of the driveway. My heart surged. I started the ignition and followed her from a safe distance. After a short drive, Chloe’s car pulled into the parking lot of the community hospital. I parked by the curb nearby, watching her through the windshield. She didn’t head inside immediately. Instead, she stood on the steps near the main entrance, clearly waiting for someone. Was the bastard finally showing up? My heart hammered against my ribs, and my fists clenched instinctively. Less than ten minutes later, a white Audi A4 pulled up. I recognized that car. It belonged to Harper, Chloe’s college best friend. Sure enough, Harper stepped out of the driver’s seat. I felt a sudden wave of disappointment. Chloe was too careful. Even though she thought I was stuck at the office, she still hadn’t called her lover. Instead, she brought her best friend along for moral support. But what puzzled me was that even after Harper arrived, they still didn’t go inside. They stood on the steps, arguing about something. As the minutes ticked by, the argument seemed to escalate. Both Harper and Chloe looked agitated, gesturing wildly with their hands. I watched them from my car for nearly ten minutes. But because I was too far away, I couldn’t hear a word, so I couldn’t figure out what they were fighting about. Just as I was about to look away, another car pulled up to the right of the steps. A middle-aged man stepped out. Since his back was turned to me, I couldn’t see his face at first. But his build looked incredibly familiar. More importantly, as soon as he got out, he walked straight toward Chloe and Harper. Since it was quite windy today, he actually took off his suit jacket and draped it gently over Chloe’s shoulders. Was this him? My breath caught in my throat, and I widened my eyes. The next second, after putting the jacket on her, the man turned around. When I saw his face, my entire body went rigid. My breath stopped completely, as if I had been struck by lightning… How could it be him? Harrison? Last night, as I lay awake in bed, I had run through a dozen suspects. Psychology books say that while men often cheat with strangers, women almost always cheat with people they know. But I never, in my wildest dreams, thought it would be Harrison. He wasn’t just Chloe’s boss at her marketing firm. He was Harper’s older brother. Which meant… Chloe wasn’t just having an office affair. She was spending every single day with her lover under the guise of “working late.” And even worse… did Harper, her absolute best friend, know about this whole thing? Was she helping them hide it?

The realization of the truth made me feel physically sick. It felt like a massive boulder was crushing my chest, suffocating me. The psychological theory was right—she had cheated with someone close. And that fact alone proved that women could be infinitely more ruthless than men. I had only met Harrison a few times, so we weren’t close. But Harper was different. I had known her since Chloe and I first started dating. Over all these years, we had hung out constantly. She was a major part of our lives. Knowing what Chloe had done, how must they have looked at me during our Sunday barbecues? Harrison must have felt so smug, looking down on me. And Harper? She probably looked at me with pity and mockery, laughing at the idiot with the invisible green horns on his head. And there I was, thinking I was the luckiest guy in the world. Turns out, in their eyes, I was just a pathetic, clueless loser. As these thoughts raced through my mind, my anger boiled over. My eyes burned, and my vision blurred with pure rage. Yet, somehow, I forced myself to stay in the car. My naturally quiet temperament gave me a twisted kind of patience. Rushing out there right now would solve nothing. What I saw as “catching them in the act” would be easily explained away by those three. They could make up any excuse. After all, they were just talking in a public parking lot. How could I prove anything? I kept telling myself to stay calm. If I startled them now, I’d lose my chance. Swallowing my rage, I grabbed my phone, zoomed in, and started taking photos. Even though these photos didn’t prove physical infidelity, they were a start. I could build a case, piece by piece, until I had an airtight chain of evidence. And that required time. More than anything, it required me to be cold and calculating. Up on the steps, Chloe seemed to be getting hysterical. The three of them were arguing back and forth, waving their hands in frustration. A few minutes later, Harrison turned and said something to Harper. Harper shook her head, looked annoyed, and walked about thirty feet away, leaving them alone. A private conversation? This was another piece of the puzzle. Even though Harrison was Chloe’s boss, that professional relationship shouldn’t have bypassed Chloe’s lifelong best friend. The fact that Harper had to step aside proved that whatever Chloe and Harrison were discussing, it had nothing to do with work. They had a connection that overrode Chloe’s loyalty to her best friend. I snapped pictures of this moment immediately. Just as I was debating whether to follow them into the clinic, things took an unexpected turn. Chloe yelled something, looking completely furious. Then, she turned on her heel, got back into her car, and sped off, completely ignoring Harper and Harrison. What the hell? Weren’t they here for an abortion? Why did she leave before even stepping foot inside the building? I was baffled. For a second, I didn’t know whether to tail Chloe or stay and watch the siblings. Before I could decide, Harper said a few angry words to Harrison, stomped her foot, got into her Audi, and drove away too. Now, only Harrison was left on the steps. He looked highly stressed. He didn’t leave; instead, he lit a cigarette and leaned against the railing, smoking heavily. This was my chance. My anger flared up again, hotter than ever. Without a second thought, I pushed my car door open and stepped out.

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My best friend and I married into the Miller family. I married Zachary, the athletic swimming coach elder brother, while she married Ethan, the licensed therapist younger brother. We lived in the same suburban neighborhood, right next door to each other. Under constant, suffocating pressure from their mother to start families, Abby and I got pregnant around the same time. But after I suffered a devastating miscarriage, I fell into severe postpartum depression. My days became a blur of darkness. Every single night, I would wake up screaming from nightmares, my nerves completely shot. One night, shivering in the corner of my dark bedroom, I frantically called my husband. After he hung up on me five times in a row, he finally picked up. His voice was filled with nothing but annoyance and anger. “Chloe, do you have any idea how busy I am? I have a class to teach, and Mia is waiting for her private lesson. Stop annoying me!” Just when I was on the brink of complete despair, Abby came over to check on me. Seeing my state, Abby carefully called her husband, Ethan, hoping his professional background as a therapist could help me. But Ethan only barked back impatiently, “Do you think I have free time to waste? My clinic is fully booked, and patients have to schedule weeks in advance. Besides, Mia is having a rough day and needs my counseling. Stop making a scene!” Eventually, unable to bear the agony, I jumped into the river. My husband, who was nearby, just stood on the bank, scoffing and telling people I was just faking it to get attention. Only Abby didn’t hesitate. She dove into the freezing water and dragged me back to the shore. Because she stayed in the icy water for too long to save me, Abby lost her own baby. The moment we opened our eyes in the hospital, Abby and I looked at each other and made a firm decision. We were getting divorced.

I stared blankly at the ceiling, the sharp smell of bleach in the hospital room pulling me back to reality. I sat up, gently touching my flat belly. A dull, sharp pain rippled through my heart. My baby died during that miscarriage, and with it, my heart died too. Even after everything that had happened, Abby was still the only one sitting by my hospital bed. I picked up my phone and called Zachary. It rang and rang until it went to voicemail. I was used to it. But this time, I didn’t quietly hang up and wait for him to call me back whenever he felt like it. I redialed. Again and again. Finally, he picked up. Before I could even breathe a word, his irritated voice blasted through the speaker. “What do you want now? I told you, I’m working! Don’t call me during my hours!” In the background, I could hear high-pitched giggles, splashing water, and Mia’s playful voice teasing Zachary. A bitter sting hit my chest. I paused, taking a deep breath, and spoke clearly. “Zachary, let’s get a divorce.” The noisy background suddenly went dead silent. Then, he roared. “Are you out of your mind? Ever since you lost the baby, you’ve been acting so damn dramatic! First, you claim you have postpartum depression and need a therapist, then you throw yourself into a river just for attention. What the hell do you want from me?!” “I’ve told you a thousand times, Mia is just my student. I’m her coach. Why do you have to be so ridiculously paranoid? Stop playing these stupid games. Honestly, I regret marrying you!” With a harsh click, Zachary hung up. I sat frozen on the hospital bed, tears spilling over and soaking the coarse hospital sheets. I never thought the man I loved for eight years—the one I went from college sweetheart to wife with, the one I stood by when he had absolutely nothing—could say something so heartless. Was Mia really just a student? When I was drowning in postpartum depression, he spent every waking hour by her side. I remembered how the depression had clawed at my mind. I couldn’t control my emotions, and I started hurting myself. I had taken a paring knife and traced it over my arms, over and over. Only when the bright red blood started dripping down did the numbness in my chest temporarily fade. When I finally snapped out of it, I was terrified of my own reflection. With trembling hands, I called Zachary. He hung up five times before finally answering. But all I got was: “Chloe, do you have any idea how busy I am? I have a class to teach, and Mia is waiting for her private lesson. Stop annoying me!” He hung up, leaving me in total darkness. My heart went completely cold. I wandered outside, trying to clear my head. And that was when I saw them at a local dessert shop, looking like a picture-perfect couple.

Mia had scooped up a piece of red velvet cake and fed it to Zachary. Zachary didn’t lean back. He smiled warmly and ate it right from her fork. Under the soft yellow lights of the shop, they looked like the ones who were married. Zachary didn’t come home that night, and his phone was off. When he finally walked through the door the next morning, he uncharacteristically handed me a gift—a designer necklace. It felt like the cheap guilt of a cheating man. I didn’t call him out. Instead, I kept playing the role of the quiet, compliant wife. I walked up to him, gently touching his arm, my voice laced with desperate pleading. “Zachary, I really feel like I’m losing my mind. Can you please come with me to see a doctor? Just this once?” He frowned instantly, cold-shouldering me and shaking my hand off his arm. “You know how busy I am. I don’t have time for your emotional episodes.” “We lost the baby, and I didn’t even complain, yet you’re the one having a psychological breakdown? Maybe I’ve spoiled you too much. You can’t even handle a minor setback.” That was the last straw. The thread holding my sanity snapped. That afternoon, unable to carry the weight anymore, I threw myself into the local river. Zachary had been standing by the bank, watching from a distance. There was no panic in his eyes, no urge to save me. He even joked to a friend standing nearby, “Let me tell you, you can’t spoil women too much. She’s just throwing a tantrum to get my attention.” But he forgot that after my miscarriage, my body was extremely weak, and I was terrified of cold water. When Abby rushed to the scene, she screamed curses at Zachary, calling him a spineless coward, and leaped into the rushing river to drag me out. Because of the freezing water and physical exhaustion, she miscarried her baby the very next day. Back in the hospital room, Abby looked at me. She had obviously heard every word of my phone call with Zachary. Tears streamed down her pale face as she spoke. “Those bastards. They’ve gone too far. Not a single man in that Miller family is human.” She wrapped her arms around me, gently patting my back. Suddenly, her phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand. She pulled away and answered it. Immediately, Ethan’s furious voice boomed through the speaker. “What is wrong with you two? You’re pregnant, Abby! How dare you jump into a river to save someone? If your friend wants to die so badly, let her! Why did you have to risk my baby’s life?” “I’m warning you, if anything happens to my child, you will pay for this!” Ethan clearly didn’t even know Abby had already miscarried. He had never cared enough to ask. “Ethan!” Abby yelled, her voice shaking with rage. “You absolute piece of trash! Your brother’s wife almost died, and all you can do is spit poison? Every word out of your mouth is about ‘your baby.’ What about me? Have you asked about me even once?!” Ethan, shocked by her sudden outburst, only got angrier. “I think I’ve pampered you too much! You’re a grown woman, stop being so pathetic!” “Besides, who pays for your food, your clothes, and your car? Me! Carrying my child is your job. If you keep acting this crazy, you can pack your bags as soon as you give birth!” “If it weren’t for the baby, I would have divorced you a long time ago. Who else would want a dramatic wreck like you?!” He slammed the phone down before she could reply. Abby threw her phone onto the mattress, screaming, “Ethan, you motherfucker! I am divorcing you!” After the anger subsided, she broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. I held her close, my own tears falling silently. I couldn’t understand how years of love could turn into this overnight. Abby and I had moved across the country, leaving our families behind, just to build a life with these men. And what did we get? In our darkest hour, not a single soul cared if we lived or died. We only had each other. Zachary had become so sharp, so hostile. His attitude, his voice, his silence—they had eroded every bit of my confidence. Giving up on him felt like the only way to survive.

After we were discharged from the hospital, Abby and I rented a small apartment downtown. We couldn’t bring ourselves to step foot back into those toxic suburban houses. We spent a week in our new place, enjoying the quiet. During that entire week, neither of them called. No texts, no check-ins. They didn’t care. Maybe this was what they wanted all along. Freedom. One evening, we were lying in bed scrolling through TikTok. Suddenly, Abby gasped. “Oh my god, Chloe, look at this!” She shoved her screen in front of my face. It was Mia’s TikTok account. She had posted a photo of the three of them on a tropical beach. Zachary was on her left, holding her designer beach bag. Ethan was on her right, holding an umbrella to shade her from the sun. Mia was in the middle, throwing her head back with a radiant smile. The caption read: *”True friendship transcends gender.”* She tagged it: `#SwimmingCoach #Therapist #PureFriendship #Besties`. If there was a global championship for being absolute trash, these three would easily take the crown. The comment section was flooded with envious replies: *”Omg girl, you are eating so well! Living the dream!”* *”Manifesting a hot coach and a handsome therapist in my life ASAP.”* *”This is literal fanfiction material.”* I stared at the screen, silent. Even though I had already checked out of the marriage, seeing my husband play puppy dog to another woman while I was recovering from a miscarriage still felt like a physical blow to the chest. Abby was practically hyperventilating next to me. “Unbelievable. It hasn’t even been a week, and they’re already parading her around?” I shook my head, trying to sound indifferent. “It’s fine. It doesn’t concern us anymore. But they probably haven’t received the divorce papers yet.” We had hired a lawyer to draft the papers a few days ago, but since they were busy vacationing, the delivery must have failed. Abby tapped her phone screen and said, “Let’s go find them tomorrow. Mia’s TikTok says they’re landing back in the city tomorrow morning.” “Okay,” I agreed. It was time to end this. Since Ethan’s therapy clinic was closer to our apartment, we decided to drop by his office first. The receptionist let us through, and we walked down the hallway to Ethan’s private room. When we pushed the door open, we caught Mia sitting right on the edge of Ethan’s desk, her fingers playfully tracing his jawline. The sexual tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Abby, never one to hold back, marched straight up to them and slapped Mia across the face. “Have you no shame? Do you only get off on married men, or did your TikTok fans forget to mention you like playing with brothers?” Mia’s cheek flushed bright red, and she gasped, clutching her face. “You—” Ethan reacted instantly, stepping in front of Mia like a protective guard dog. “Are you insane?! Abby, you are seriously mentally unstable! Apologize to Mia right now!” Abby stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. “I will never apologize to this bitch!” Ethan’s face contorted with rage, and he raised his hand to strike Abby. I lunged forward, grabbing his wrist and shoving him back. “Don’t you dare touch her! You’re going to hit your wife for some home-wrecking trash? Do you hear yourself?!” Before I could finish, Ethan’s phone began to ring. He swiped to answer, his voice dripping with venom. “Zach, your wife just dragged Abby to my clinic. They’re making a huge scene, screaming and throwing dirt at me and Mia.” He clicked the speakerphone and shoved the screen toward my face. “Your husband wants to talk to you.” The second I took the phone, Zachary’s furious voice screamed through the speaker. “Chloe, you are unbelievable! How dare you show up at my brother’s workplace and cause a scene? If you don’t care about your reputation, we care about ours!” “I have told you a thousand times, Mia is just a friend! If you want to keep being a paranoid psycho, that’s your problem!” “Go back to the house right now. Stop testing my patience before I lose my temper. People are going to think I married a trailer-trash shrew!” Hearing Zachary defend her, Mia sniffled softly, playing the innocent victim. “Chloe, please don’t be mad. We really are just friends. If my presence makes you uncomfortable, I’ll just stay away from now on…” I couldn’t stand her fake, dripping-sweet voice for another second. “Shut up, Mia. Stop flattering yourself,” I snapped. “We didn’t come here to catch you in the act. We came to get a divorce.” The room fell dead silent.

After a beat of stunned silence, Zachary’s roar shattered the quiet. “What did you just say?!” “I said, I want a divorce,” I repeated, enunciating every single word. “Fine! If you’re so brave, come down to the community pool right now, and we’ll go straight to the courthouse to sign the papers!” “I’ll be there. Don’t back out!” I snapped and ended the call. I looked up, meeting Ethan’s stunned gaze. “What are you staring at? You’re signing yours today too.” To make sure neither of them could run, we forced Ethan to come with us to Zachary’s pool. And of course, Mia insisted on tagging along, looking smug, as if she was about to walk down the aisle the moment our signatures dried. Since it was the off-season, the community pool was practically deserted. We spotted Zachary standing near the deep end. I pulled the prepared divorce papers from my bag and thrust them toward him. He looked at the bold letters at the top of the page, but he didn’t reach out to take them. Instead, he let out a cold laugh. “What is this? Another one of your stupid little attention-seeking games?” As he tilted his head, I caught a glimpse of a faint red mark on his collarbone. I slowly looked at Mia. She noticed my gaze, arched an eyebrow, and offered me a victorious, mocking smirk. An intense wave of nausea hit me. The taste of bile rose in my throat. Forcing myself to stay upright, I said, “No. I am entirely serious.” Seeing the cold determination in my eyes, his smug expression finally cracked, replaced by irritation. “Is this because of that phone call? Because I was busy coaching and snapped at you? Or is it because I didn’t take you to the therapist, or because I didn’t jump in to pull you out of the water?” My chest tightened. So, he knew. He knew exactly how much those actions would hurt me, yet he chose to do them anyway. “Yes. All of it. And so much more.” The thousands of moments where he chose to ignore me had built a wall between us that could never be broken down. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s such a minor issue, Chloe. Do you really have to bring up divorce over every little thing? When are you going to grow up?” I let out a soft laugh. Of course. A narcissist never believes they did anything wrong. Before I could speak, Mia cut in, her voice dripping with fake concern. “Is it possible that you found someone else, Chloe? Is that why you’re in such a rush to leave Zachary?” Abby snapped. “Shut your mouth, you disgusting liar!” She stepped forward to push Mia away from us. But before Abby’s hand could even make contact, Mia let out a theatrical gasp and threw herself backward, plunging straight into the deep end of the pool. “Mia!” Ethan yelled, immediately turning on Abby in a rage. As Abby stood there, arms crossed, her loose sweater clung to her frame. Ethan’s eyes traveled down, and he froze. Her stomach was completely flat. His eyes turned red. “Where is my baby?!” he demanded, grabbing her shoulder. Abby looked at his furious, panicked face and said coldly, “Gone. Took you long enough to notice.” Ethan shook her violently. “How did it happen?! Tell me how!” When Abby remained silent, his eyes darted to me. He remembered the day I jumped into the river. “It was you!” he screamed, lunging at me. “You did this, you crazy bitch!” With a violent shove, he pushed me backward. *Splash!*

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On my birthday, I found out my husband, Ethan, had booked a high-end waterfront restaurant and ordered a massive bouquet of 99 sunflowers. To keep from ruining his surprise, I dressed up in my finest evening gown and went there. But I stood outside the restaurant until closing time, and he never showed up. Instead, I scrolled past an Instagram post from Daisy, the daughter of his late college professor. “The flight was delayed, so I missed the waterfront view, but the one who loves me will always wait for me.” In the photo, Daisy was holding that exact bouquet of sunflowers, her smile sweet and radiant. And around the wrist of the man holding her shoulder was the braided couple’s bracelet I had made with my own hands. Calmly, I liked the post and left a comment underneath. “I didn’t know some people actually enjoyed picking up my trash.” Closing my phone, I looked down at the matching bracelet on my own wrist. It only made me feel sick. I ripped the bracelet off with force and threw it straight into the trash can without a second glance. The phone in my pocket buzzed repeatedly. It was Ethan calling. His voice was filled with impatience. “It’s so late. What are you doing messing around outside?” I said nothing. He continued his endless lecturing. “Stop hanging out with those useless friends of yours. Look at what they’ve turned you into.” “Besides, Daisy has no family here. If something happens to a young girl like her in the middle of the night, who’s going to take responsibility? Stop overthinking!” If something happened to her in the middle of the night… But what about me? My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. Hearing his words, I cut him off directly. “Ethan, I’ve been waiting for you outside the waterfront restaurant all night.” The person on the other end of the line fell silent for a moment, his voice suddenly losing its confidence. “Stay right there. I’m coming over now.” The freezing winter wind swept under the hem of my dress. I shivered uncontrollably. An entire hour passed. I huddled under the awning of the closed restaurant, my hands frozen bright red, but the cold was nothing compared to the numbness in my chest. In the end, my best friend, Lily, drove over to pick me up. On the way back, she cursed Ethan out, calling him a piece of garbage. I didn’t reply; I just leaned my tired head against the car door. I felt completely disgusted and exhausted. Exhausted by Ethan, and by our three-year marriage. Right then, my screen lit up. Daisy had sent me a Snapchat message. Every single word dripped with arrogance. She said, “Beg me, and I’ll let Ethan go pick you up.” Attached was a photo. In it, Ethan was making the bed for Daisy in a hotel room. I blocked Daisy on Snapchat immediately. After a moment’s thought, I blocked Ethan’s number too. I stayed at Lily’s place until noon the next day. When I unlocked my front door, I saw Ethan sitting on the sofa, smoking. The moment he saw me, he blew up, questioning me with intense annoyance. “Where the hell have you been? Now you’re staying out all night?” “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me at the restaurant? Why did you run off in the middle of the night? How can you be so immature?” I watched him put out his cigarette, and my chest felt even tighter. I couldn’t stand the smell of smoke. In the past, Ethan refused to quit, so even in the winter, I would keep the windows half-open for ventilation, doing my best to avoid it. But now, I didn’t want to compromise anymore. I changed my shoes, walked over to the window, and pushed it wide open. The icy wind rushed in, pouring down my collar, but I felt nothing. My voice remained flat and detached. “You went to a hotel room with her, yet you still care where I slept last night?” Ethan seemed taken abashed. He stood up abruptly, his brows furrowing deeply. “Chloe, what nonsense are you talking about? Before Professor Davies passed away, I promised him I would take good care of Daisy. Last night, I was just picking her up. You have a birthday every year anyway. I’ll just make it up to you next year.” “Is it really necessary to hold a grudge against a younger girl?” As he stood up, he kicked the coffee table. The glass ashtray slid off and shattered into pieces on the floor. A strange silence fell over the living room. That was when I noticed the faint, half-hidden hickey beneath his white collar. I blinked, a wave of emotion surging in my chest. He was wearing the shirt I had carefully chosen for him. When he was doing *that* with Daisy in the hotel, did he ever think of me? In reality, the waterfront restaurant was meant to welcome Daisy back. Even the 99 sunflowers were meant for Daisy. I looked down, the light reflecting off the broken glass stinging my eyes. So, I had been fooling myself all along. There would be no “next year” for Ethan and me. Just like the shattered glass on the floor, once it was broken, it was broken. I looked up, staring at the face that was both so familiar and yet so strange, and said, “Ethan, let’s get a divorce.”

“Chloe, nothing happened between Daisy and me, I swear. Can you just trust me?” His tone softened, and he reached out to grab my arm. “I was only worried about you. I searched for you all night, terrified that something had happened.” I took a step back, dodging his hand. What was the point of saying all this now? I turned to get my ID from the drawer, but suddenly noticed that my jewelry box had been moved. My heart skipped a beat. I opened it. It was completely empty. Inside was a diamond necklace left to me by my late mother. It was my dowry, and her only heirloom. To me, it was irreplaceable. With a trembling voice, I asked Ethan, “Where is my necklace?” Seeing my red eyes and distressed state, he pursed his lips, looking uneasy. “Daisy said she had an important networking event today and couldn’t show up looking cheap. So, I lent her your necklace.” “But don’t worry, I told her she has to return it right after the event. She won’t ruin it.” As soon as he finished speaking, Ethan’s phone rang. The ringtone was a romantic love song. It was a ringtone that used to belong exclusively to me. But the caller ID now read: *Daisy*. “Ethan, I’m so sorry… I lost the necklace you lent me,” Daisy’s crying voice came through the speaker. My eyes widened, and I felt the blood drain from my face. But Ethan ignored my reaction, asking her frantically, “What happened? Where are you right now?” “I… I was cornered by some sketchy guys when I left the venue. I’m so scared, Ethan…” “Send me your location. I’m coming right now!” Even as he spoke, Ethan was already rushing toward the front door. In his panic, he even put on the wrong shoes. He seemed to have completely forgotten I was standing there, until I brushed past his shoulder and stepped into the elevator first. “I’m coming with you.” Ethan froze for two seconds before frowning deeply as he followed me. “Didn’t I tell you? Daisy and I are completely innocent. Can’t you just give me some personal space?” I stepped into the elevator expressionlessly. Looking at the blame written all over his face, I felt no emotion left in my heart. “I’m getting my necklace back.” Realizing he had misunderstood, Ethan opened his mouth as if to explain, but I didn’t want to hear it. We were silent the entire drive. He glanced at me several times but said nothing in the end. And I didn’t care. When we arrived at the scene, Daisy immediately threw herself into Ethan’s arms without saying a word. Tears streamed down her pale face, her hair was a mess, and her voice was incredibly fragile. “Ethan, you’re finally here. I thought I’d never see you again.” She didn’t even look at me sitting in the car. Or perhaps, she simply didn’t care about me, his actual wife, at all. A police officer walked over from nearby. “Are you her husband? Don’t let a young girl walk down these dark, isolated alleys alone. Just sign here.” Ethan thanked him repeatedly, gently rubbing Daisy’s back to comfort her with one hand while taking the pen to sign with the other. Suddenly, I remembered the early days of our marriage. I had worked late one night and got cornered in an alley by a group of thugs on my way home. Terrified, I had called Ethan, but he was performing at Daisy’s graduation ceremony. Faced with my crying pleas for help, he had casually dismissed it, saying no decent guy would even look at me. He had hung up before I could even finish. Later, the police escorted me home and said the exact same words to him. But instead of comforting me, Ethan had yelled at me. He said, “I didn’t expect you to make a fortune anyway. If you have the energy to work overtime, you should spend it taking care of the house!” I had thought that once Daisy went abroad, our marriage would slowly become happy and peaceful. I never expected these three years to be nothing but a joke. Now that the dream was shattered, it was time to end it. I pushed open the car door, ignored the hugging couple, and spoke in a cold, clear voice. “Officer, I want to file a report.” “Someone scammed my husband and manipulated him into stealing my necklace.” “That necklace is an auction piece worth $150,000. That’s grand larceny.” Ethan stared at me in absolute shock. After all, during our three years of marriage, I had always been gentle and submissive in his eyes, never once going against him. Now, not only did I expose his relationship with Daisy on the spot, but I was also ready to get them arrested. But to me, he was already a nobody. I was going to file the report, and I was going to take back everything that belonged to me.

Daisy stood in front of Ethan with red eyes, speaking defensively on his behalf. “Chloe, in front of the police, how could you not leave Ethan any dignity?” Even Ethan spoke in a dark, warning tone. “Chloe, I don’t care how much of a tantrum you throw at home, but don’t cause trouble in public. Otherwise, I won’t tolerate it anymore!” I slammed the car door shut, walked over to the police officer who was watching the drama, and insisted on filing a formal report. This time, I wouldn’t let things go. My decision to resign from my job back then was entirely Ethan’s fault. It wasn’t just because he criticized me for neglecting the home, but because he had taken the financial project data I was responsible for and given it to Daisy for her graduation thesis. Because the data was leaked ahead of schedule, I was almost arrested as a corporate spy. While I was locked in a holding cell for an entire night, Ethan was busy sending Daisy off at the airport. Every single time, he chose to blame me unconditionally. “Daisy is my mentor’s daughter. Is it wrong for me to look after her? Learn your place!” But why did his gratitude have to be paid with my suffering? Ethan and Daisy were both taken to the police station to give their statements, while I went home to pack my bags. Standing at the entrance of our apartment complex, watching the bustling traffic, I felt a sudden wave of emptiness. Eventually, Lily rushed over, cursing the entire way. If I hadn’t stopped her, she would have driven straight to the police station to run them over. I said nothing, went inside her apartment, and fell asleep immediately. By the time I woke up, the sky was already dark. I saw a text from Lily. She had ordered dinner for me and said she would be back late. So, when the doorbell rang, I thought it was the food delivery. But when I opened the door, Ethan was standing there. Before I could slam the door, he forced a bouquet of red roses into my arms, his tone placating. “Chloe, I came to apologize. I didn’t expect Daisy to lose the necklace. Please stop being mad, okay?” “The police are already checking the security cameras. We’ll find it. But do you have any idea what your little stunt this morning did? The job Daisy worked so hard to get was canceled.” “Let’s be reasonable. You went too far this time. Daisy came back to the country specifically for this job, and now years of her hard work are ruined because of you.” My movements froze. I slammed the door shut with all my strength. The heavy security door collided with Ethan’s shin. He let out a painful groan and bent over, clutching his leg. “Chloe, how did you become so unreasonable?” In his eyes, I was always the unreasonable one, the one making a scene out of nothing. The bouquet of roses slipped from my hands and hit the floor, a card sliding out from the petals. I recognized the familiar, elegant handwriting on it. “Hope my princess Daisy is always happy.” It was signed by Ethan. I felt like my hands had been contaminated. “Ethan, I’ll have my lawyer draft the divorce papers and mail them to you in a few days. We’re done.” “What do you mean we’re done? If we don’t resolve this today, I’m not leaving.” Ethan propped his arm against the doorframe, his face dark. I knew this was the prefix to his temper, but before I could do anything, his phone rang. It was Daisy. Ethan’s face changed instantly. He turned slightly away, his voice dropping into a soft, comforting whisper. “Don’t cry. I’m coming right now.”

I didn’t bother to look at him again and shut the door firmly. Not long after Ethan left, I received a call from the police station. They told me the necklace had been found and asked me to come identify it. However, they also mentioned that while trying to help find the necklace, Daisy had gotten into a car accident and was currently in surgery. I sat silently on the sofa for two minutes after hanging up, then went downstairs, got into a cab, and headed to the hospital. Yet, when I reached the hospital room, I found Ethan’s parents were there too. Daisy was sitting in bed, tears streaming down her face as her shoulders shook. “Ethan is such a good man, but now he’s losing Chloe because of me. I don’t deserve to live!” With that, she ripped the IV needle from her hand, swung her bare feet out of bed, and tried to throw herself against the wall. Ethan barely managed to hold her back. Seeing me enter, he scowled deeply, threw the necklace from the bedside table onto my lap, and spoke in a low, heavy voice. “Your precious item is back, completely intact.” “Daisy almost died. Now that things have turned out like this, are you satisfied?” I weighed the diamond necklace in my hands, saying nothing. Mrs. Miller had never liked me, and now she seized the opportunity. She rushed over, pointing her finger at my nose, and screamed, “How do you even have the nerve to ask for a divorce? Making such a huge fuss over a stupid necklace, even dragging the police into it! How embarrassing!” “Son, divorce her! A lazy woman like her would be sleeping on the streets if you hadn’t been supporting her all these years!” Even Mr. Miller huffed angrily, his eyes wide. “Professor Davies did our family a massive favor. It is our duty to take care of Daisy. A wicked woman like you has a dirty mind, so you see everything as dirty! If anything happens to Daisy today, I’ll use my last breath to make sure you pay!” I looked at Ethan, who also looked indignant, and slowly clenched my fists. Anyone who didn’t know the truth would think they were the ones who had suffered a terrible injustice. But there was no point in playing nice anymore. The precious Daisy they cherished so much might look innocent and fragile, but behind their backs, she had an entirely different face. Did they really think Daisy had just simply returned from her studies abroad? No! I threw the diamond necklace onto the floor. Watching the plastic beads shatter and scatter, my eyes turned cold. I pulled out my phone and tapped play on an audio recording. Daisy’s voice filled the room.

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My husband, Ethan Carter, was a renowned pharmaceutical researcher. To support his career, I secretly signed up as an anonymous volunteer for his high-risk clinical trials, willingly enduring all sorts of agonizing side effects just to help his project succeed. After I was diagnosed with a terminal illness, the only thing that could save me was an experimental drug he had developed. I pinned all my hopes of survival on Ethan. But when my condition finally became critical, he vanished—along with my life-saving medicine. When I finally found him, I watched him give my cure to Chloe, his childhood sweetheart. I rushed forward to confront him, only to be met with his cold, contemptuous gaze. “Chloe volunteered for my clinical trials years ago just to help me! Now she has a terminal illness because of those side effects!” “Can’t you show a little compassion?!” Later, without the medicine, I died an agonizing death in a cold hospital bed. But when he finally discovered the truth, he completely lost his mind.

Before my consciousness faded, waves of excruciating pain surged through my body. I trembled violently, curling into a tight ball, trying in vain to ease the agony. But it was useless. The muffled shouts of doctors and nurses echoed in my ears, but I no longer had the strength to open my eyes. “Her organs are failing,” someone sighed nearby. “Without the A9 experimental drug, not even a miracle can save her.” “Let’s contact her next of kin to prepare for her funeral…” The A9 experimental drug. Hearing that familiar name only brought a sharp, tearing pain to my chest. I had been so close to surviving. But Ethan, my husband, had shattered that chance with his own hands. The A9 drug was the latest breakthrough from Ethan’s research lab. Because it was still in the early stages, the production was extremely limited. The only existing dose was in Ethan’s possession. Two weeks ago, I finally tracked down Ethan, who had vanished with the drug. I found him at Chloe’s private studio. I watched them huddled together. Chloe was sobbing softly while Ethan whispered sweet comforts to her. Then, he pulled out the vial containing the A9 drug and placed it in her hand. A spasm of pain shot through my body. I burst into the room to confront him. My voice shook uncontrollably. “Ethan, I told you! I will die without this medicine!” “You refused to give it to me, saying it was reserved for someone who truly needed it. Is she that person?!” Ethan looked at me, his eyes showing no guilt or hesitation. He met my gaze coldly. “Nora, stop faking your illness. It’s getting pathetic.” “I’m a medical researcher. You can’t fool me with these cheap tricks.” “Chloe isn’t like you, always jealous and insecure. Five years ago, she risked her life as a volunteer for my drug trials, which pushed my project forward. Now, the side effects are causing her organs to fail. How can I just stand by and do nothing?” I stared at Ethan in absolute disbelief, pointing at Chloe, who was shrinking back into his chest. “You think *she* was the volunteer five years ago?” Ethan didn’t answer. He just tightened his grip around Chloe’s waist. My throat tasted metallic, like blood. I gritted my teeth against the searing pain in my chest. “Ethan, go look at the registry files from five years ago. I dare you! I don’t believe you can’t find the truth.” “If it weren’t for you, why would I have spent the last five years screaming in pain every single night because of the side effects?!” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I covered my mouth and coughed violently. Ethan only frowned, his eyes filling with deep annoyance. “Nora Mitchell, I thought you’d know when to stop.” “Without Chloe’s help, I wouldn’t have the status I have today. Do you think the money you’ve been spending all these years grew on trees?” “I’m going to put an end to your lies once and for all today.” Ethan sighed, throwing a folder onto my chest. “See for yourself. I pulled the original records from back then.” “I know exactly who saved my career.” With that, he wrapped his arm around Chloe and walked out of the studio. Before they turned the corner, I heard him whisper to her, “Don’t worry, Chloe. I’ll save you. I wouldn’t be here today without you.” Out of Ethan’s sight, Chloe turned back and flashed me a smug, triumphant smile. With trembling, blood-stained hands, I opened the folder. The volunteer report—the one that used to have my face on it—now had Chloe’s photo attached. After that day, Ethan subjected me to endless, freezing silent treatment. He didn’t even pick up my last call before I died.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized I was standing right in front of my own body. I watched my lifeless corpse being wheeled toward the morgue. The doctors quickly dialed Ethan’s number. After several rings, Ethan finally answered, his voice dripping with irritation. “Stop annoying me! I don’t have time for this!” The nurse said quickly, “Sir, your wife has passed away. We need you to come handle her body…” Through the line, I heard a fragile, sweet voice call out in the background. “Ethan, my chest hurts.” Ethan replied softly, “Hang on, Chloe.” Then his tone turned incredibly hostile. “Nora, are you seriously acting out a death scene now? You even hired someone to play a nurse?” “Don’t try to stop me from treating Chloe. If you want to play dead, go ahead. Let’s see if I shed a single tear for you!” With that, he slammed the phone down. As I stood there in a daze, a strange force suddenly pulled my soul away. When I regained consciousness, I was standing right in front of Ethan. I blinked, looking around, and realized this was Ethan’s private laboratory. It was equipped with the most advanced medical tech and medicines in the country. I had begged him to let me stay here because the equipment could help manage my symptoms. But Ethan had dismissed my plea with disgust. “The lab is off-limits to outsiders.” Without proper medical equipment, I spent the last two weeks of my life in endless, agonizing torture. By the time I died, my body was painfully emaciated, my cheeks sunken, looking like a hollow shell of myself. And my own husband wouldn’t even come to claim my body. Yet here, Chloe was lying comfortably on a sterile hospital bed, surrounded by a team of professional nurses. She looked pale and fragile, like a delicate hothouse flower. Chloe was never an “outsider” to Ethan. Chloe looked up at Ethan, her eyes crinkling with a sweet smile. “Thank you, Ethan. If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have made it today…” Ethan shook his head, gently stroking her hair. “Just focus on resting. The staff here are my most trusted colleagues. You’ll get better in no time.” Sensing the heavy romantic tension between the two, the colleagues laughed and teased them. “Dr. Carter, you and your wife are so sweet together.” “Seriously, you’re making all us single folks jealous!” Chloe’s cheeks flushed pink, but she didn’t correct them. Neither did Ethan. They just looked at each other and shared a knowing smile. I instinctively wanted to run away, but an invisible force bound me to Ethan’s side. I was forced to watch my husband of five years play the doting spouse to his childhood friend. When my organ failure was at its worst, I could feel my body shutting down piece by piece. But that terror was nothing compared to the agony of watching this. How pathetic. I had endured years of agonizing side effects for Ethan, only for Chloe to effortlessly steal all the credit. And my husband never believed a single word I said. I suppose when I first told him I was sick, he didn’t take me seriously at all. Otherwise, how could he have been so calm? Compared to his current panic over Chloe, Ethan had always been chillingly indifferent to anything concerning me. I thought five years of love and quiet sacrifice would eventually melt his cold heart. But the truth was, Ethan’s heart only beat for the girl he truly loved. Ethan cleared his throat, his voice returning to its usual professional tone. “Alright, everyone get back to work. I’ll take it from here.” The colleagues let out a chorus of knowing chuckles before leaving the room. Ethan sat on the edge of Chloe’s bed. “How are you feeling today? Any discomfort after taking the medicine?” Chloe shook her head, playfully sticking her tongue out. “Any drug developed by the brilliant Dr. Carter is bound to be perfect.” Ethan chuckled softly. Chloe seemed to remember something and said, “By the way… we haven’t heard from Nora since she confronted us last time. Have you explained things to her? We’re just doctor and patient.” Ethan’s face darkened, but he kept his voice patient. “There’s nothing to explain.” “It’s her own issue. Don’t worry about her. Just focus on recovering.” Of course. In his mind, there was never anything to explain. I was always just the crazy, jealous wife throwing a tantrum. Ethan reached into his bag. From my vantage point, I saw him pull out a second, identical phone. But this phone had been dead for a while. He plugged in the charger, and after a few minutes, the screen lit up. Instantly, a flood of missed calls and Snapchat notifications popped up. They were all from me—calls I had made and messages I had sent since I was hospitalized. There were also missed calls from the hospital notifying him of my death. Ethan had two identical phones. One was just to deal with me, while the other was his actual phone for daily life. His main phone had his research, Chloe’s contact info, and his real life. Compared to his main phone, the one dedicated to me was practically barren. I was just like that second phone—never truly integrated into Ethan’s life. I was always kept at a distance. And whenever Ethan wanted a break, he could simply turn it off, shutting me out of his world entirely. Because to him, I was utterly insignificant.

Maybe when your heart breaks completely, you just go numb. Staring at Ethan’s second phone, I didn’t even feel a spark of anger. The phone rang again. This time, it wasn’t my number. Ethan stared at the screen for a moment before pressing answer. “Is this Nora Mitchell’s next of kin? The patient passed away yesterday, and her body is still in the morgue. When can you come claim her?” Ethan frowned, checking the number again. “Are you guys ever going to stop? How much did Nora pay you to pull this stunt? I’ll pay you double if you just stop harassing me!” “She was calling and texting me yesterday, and today you’re telling me she’s dead?” “Until she learns how to behave, I don’t care if she’s dead or alive!” Yes, he never cared about anything to do with me. Even when I was actually dead. But that was fine. I was used to it anyway, wasn’t I? By the time he finished speaking, Ethan’s voice was shaking with anger. He slammed the phone down, his face flushed with rage. Chloe asked softly, “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Nora?” Ethan shook his head. “Nothing. Just another one of her dramatic stunts.” “Get some rest. I’m going to check on the lab.” Chloe nodded obediently and watched him leave. When Ethan pushed open the lab door, he found a group of researchers huddled together. He frowned, his voice cold and sharp. “What is everyone doing? Is this free time? Are your tasks finished?” The crowd quickly dispersed, leaving a single piece of paper fluttering to the floor. When no one spoke, Ethan sneered, “Don’t you know we’re at a critical phase of launching the A9 drug?” “Chloe risked her life to test this drug for us, giving us the chance to deepen our research. And this is how you make use of it?” He knelt down and picked up the paper, grabbing a young researcher who was trying to slip away. “What is this?” The young man, terrified of Ethan, lowered his head. “It’s… it’s a case file related to the A9 drug…” “This disease is so rare, so we were just studying it…” Ethan frowned, looking at him suspiciously. “I haven’t heard of any similar cases recently.” The researcher pointed at the paper. “It was sent over by the local hospital.” “Apparently, the patient spent her final days desperately searching for a cure, but she couldn’t find one.” “She passed away yesterday…” Ethan looked down at the paper. When his eyes landed on the name in the patient box, he froze. Nora Mitchell. My name. Ethan’s grip on the researcher’s arm tightened violently, but his eyes kept scanning down. When he read the words *Cause of Death: Multi-organ failure*, his pupils dilated in shock. “Did the hospital mention the exact time of death?” The researcher shook his head. Looking at his pale face, I felt nothing but cold amusement. What? Was he finally starting to believe it? It seemed he only believed me when I was presented to him in the most brutal, tragic way possible. Just like before, when I hadn’t heard from Ethan all night. Even his lab colleagues didn’t know where he was. I had driven through a torrential downpour, checking every place he could possibly be. The rain was so heavy I lost control of the car and crashed into a street lamp. And yet, just that morning, he had promised he would come home to celebrate my birthday. At dawn, I dragged my bruised, bleeding body back home, only to see Ethan lovingly placing a fresh plate of breakfast in front of Chloe. In that moment, my mind went entirely blank. Seeing my wretched state, Ethan had only frowned in disgust. “What happened to you?” I stared at him blankly. “Where were you last night…?” Chloe looked at me with faux guilt. “I’m so sorry, Nora. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I just got back to the country last night and asked Ethan to pick me up. He didn’t mean to ignore you.” Ignoring Chloe’s chatter, I walked up to Ethan. “Yesterday was my birthday.” Ethan stiffened, pressing his lips together. “Sorry. I forgot.” He forgot. Ethan didn’t even bother making up a decent excuse. He just dismissed my entire existence with a simple “I forgot.” That day, we had another massive fight. “Ethan, I searched for you all night! I even got into a car accident! And what were you doing?!” Ethan lost his patience. “Enough! I just forgot!” “A car accident? If you were in a car accident, why are you standing right here? Why aren’t you in a hospital bed?” In the middle of our shouting, Ethan shoved me hard. I fell to the ground while he immediately shielded a trembling Chloe behind his back. I felt like some villainous woman in a cheap drama. My wounds from the crash reopened, bleeding through my clothes, and my chest felt like it was tearing apart. I coughed up a pool of blood. Through the haze of pain, I finally heard Ethan scream my name in panic. Only then did he believe I was actually hurt. Ethan’s trust in me had always been pathetic. I watched Ethan run out of the research center and speed toward the hospital. Once there, he clutched the case file, desperately asking every nurse and doctor until he finally found the physician who had filed the report. It was Dr. Harrison, the doctor who had treated me. Dr. Harrison looked up in surprise. “Dr. Carter? What brings you here?” Ethan slammed the paper onto the desk, panting heavily. “Did you submit this case file?” The doctor glanced at it and nodded. “Yes. The patient’s body is still down in the morgue.” “Did you find something new, Dr. Carter?” Ethan’s hands shook violently as he gritted his teeth. “Take me to her.” Though confused, Dr. Harrison led the way. I followed close behind Ethan as the elevator descended into the cold basement. Dr. Harrison led him to the metal freezer drawers. The doctor pointed to a drawer. “She’s in here. Do you want to see her, Dr. Carter?” Ethan ignored him, his hand already gripping the cold metal handle. As the drawer slowly slid open, the color drained completely from Ethan’s face. Until he finally saw me. My face. Gray, cold, and entirely lifeless.

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Five years later, I ran into Ethan again at Daisy’s parent-teacher conference. The hallway was almost empty. I was kneeling by the classroom door, tying Daisy’s shoelaces. When I looked up, a pair of custom-made, dark leather Oxford shoes stopped just three feet away. My hand instinctively pressed down on the thick silver cuff on my left wrist. Daisy grabbed the edge of my skirt and shrank back behind me. I patted her hand gently and stood up. He stood there, one hand slipped casually into his tailored suit pocket. His voice was low, laced with a familiar, controlled tension. “Cassie, you’ve been throwing this tantrum for five years. Haven’t you had enough? Come home with me.” The metal buckle of the cuff on my left wrist felt icy cold against my skin. Suddenly, the freezing air of that winter night five years ago seemed to wrap around me all over again. I didn’t look at him. I zipped Daisy’s coat all the way up to her chin, took her hand, and walked right past him. “Mommy, who was that man?” Daisy asked in her sweet, small voice. I paused for a second. I honestly didn’t know how to introduce him.

The automatic lights in the hallway flickered out behind us. I squeezed Daisy’s hand a little tighter and quickened my pace. My left hand subconsciously reached down, pulling the thick metal cuff further down my wrist before shoving my hand deep into my coat pocket. Once we got back to The Little Elephant Library, I sent Daisy over to the reading corner to play. “Cassie, that’s the third one this week.” Luna walked over and placed a termination notice on the counter in front of me. I picked up a red marker and drew a thick line through “Springfield Preschool” on our monthly schedule board. The reason listed was the exact same corporate jargon as the others: “Per higher management’s directive, we are adjusting our external partnership list.” “I had a friend look into it,” Luna whispered, leaning in close. “All three of these preschools are heavily funded by CasStart Academy. That Ethan guy… he’s the founder of CasStart, right? Is he trying to ruin you?” The tip of my marker froze on the paper. The red ink bled into a perfect, bleeding dot on the white page. I capped the marker with a sharp click. “Don’t overthink it.” I pushed my coffee cup aside and pulled out a stack of blank sketching paper. “Go ahead and prep the watercolor palettes for tomorrow. We still have a picture-book class in the morning.” On the service road outside the library, a sleek black Maybach sat idling under the sycamore trees. Ethan leaned back against the driver’s seat. Through the windshield, his eyes locked onto our two figures—one tall, one small—as we disappeared around the corner. He tapped his Bluetooth earpiece. “Mr. Vance, the background check you requested is still processing. The child’s birth certificate is a bit tricky. There’s no biological father listed in the state registry. We’re still digging.” Ethan’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the leather steering wheel. “Don’t stop. Keep digging.” “I want to know exactly who has been hiding in her life for the past five years.” He hung up. On the passenger seat lay a worn-out watercolor brush. The little girl had dropped it earlier. He picked it up, his thumb slowly brushing over the faded, chipped paint on the wooden handle. Nine o’clock at night. After her bath, Daisy crawled onto the bed, smelling of baby soap. She immediately grabbed my left hand. “Mommy, can I wear this bracelet? It’s so pretty.” Her tiny fingers picked at the heavy metal buckle, trying to undo it. I pulled my hand back gently. “Not this one, baby.” “Why not?” “Because…” I ran my hand through her damp hair. “Because this is Mommy’s lucky charm. If I take it off, the magic goes away.” Daisy blinked her big eyes, pondered that for a moment, and accepted it. She rolled over and pulled a worn-out picture book from under her pillow. “Then tell me the story of the little elephant!” I smiled, taking the book from her. As my fingers brushed the bottom-right corner of the back cover, they felt a rough patch. It was a long strip of paper heavily blacked out with a sharpie. Deep, thick, and permanent. It had been scribbled over dozens of times. I stared at the black block for a long moment. Then, I opened the cover and began reading the story of the little elephant looking for its mother. The edges of the pages were yellowed and frayed. It was a hand-drawn storybook. Half an hour later, Daisy’s breathing slowed into a steady rhythm. I closed the book, set it on the nightstand, and switched off the lamp. I sat down on the rug beside her bed. My right fingers traced the silver cuff on my left wrist. Over and over again. In the dark, the old picture book lay silently. Beneath that thick, ugly block of black marker, there was once a line written in elegant, passionate fountain pen ink: “To my Cassie. You are the beginning of all my inspiration.”

The next morning, Luna carried out a cardboard box. “Cassie, do you still want this box of old brushes?” It was filled to the brim with heavily worn markers and chewed-up sketching pencils. “Keep them. Just put them at the very bottom of the cabinet.” I recognized the teeth marks on those pencils. They belonged to Ethan when he was seven years old. Back then, my mother was running a free community art program for underprivileged kids. There was a little boy who always hid under the playground slide. He never spoke, never looked anyone in the eye, and always tightly clutched a broken piece of chalk in his fist. His parents were alcoholics and gamblers who beat him constantly. Every single day, my mother would bring a different picture book to that playground. She would sit just two feet away from him, open the book, and read the story aloud. She did this for three solid months. When she closed the ninetieth book, the boy finally looked up. His face was bruised, but his dark eyes were incredibly bright. “Ma’am… will you come back tomorrow?” Eventually, my mother foster-adopted him. She used her meager retirement savings to buy him high-quality art supplies. She supported him through local art contests all the way to national exhibitions. He eventually won a full-ride scholarship to college. During high school, he was like my shadow. I was quiet and didn’t like to talk, so he used his sketchbook to record my life. He drew me eating cherry popsicles in the summer heat, crouching over my desk solving math problems, and leaning against the bus stop sign in the rain. There was one drawing I never forgot. The theme of his high school art final was “Home.” While others drew houses or family portraits, he drew a single hand. My left hand. The wrist was bare and clean, and my fingers held a paint-stained brush. The teacher asked him how this represented “Home.” He replied, “Wherever she is, that is home.” On graduation day, he shoved a thick sketchbook into my hands. “This is every version of you I’ve ever drawn.” He looked at me, his eyes shining with ambition and love. “No matter how far I go in life, Cassie, you will always be my very first stroke.” After college, we naturally got married. He wanted to start an educational tech company for children. On the day he registered the business, he filled out the form with the name: CasStart Academy. In the beginning, I was the entire creative department. I designed the curriculum, the teaching methods, and the parent-child reading guides. I drew over a thousand drafts under the dim light of our rented apartment, night after night. He handled the funding and the marketing. We got our marriage license, and we were officially husband and wife. I picked up a palette knife and scraped away a layer of dried paint from the tray. The night we secured our Series A funding, during the celebratory dinner, an investor patted Ethan on the shoulder and joked, “Mr. Vance, you’re young and successful. Just make sure people don’t say you built your empire on your wife’s back.” The entire table burst into laughter. On the drive home, Ethan didn’t say a word. One hand gripped the steering wheel while the knuckles of his other hand tapped hard against the car window. I looked at the tight, rigid line of his jaw. It was the exact same expression he wore when he was seven years old, when people pointed at him and called him “trash abandoned by his parents.” That night, when we got home, he sat on the couch and patted the spot next to him. “Cassie, come here.” When I sat down, he began playing with my paint-stained fingertips. “The company has reached a new stage. We need a more professional executive team. Starting tomorrow, I need you to hand over your role as Creative Director. You can step back and act as an advisor from behind the scenes.” I stood by the kitchen island, holding a freshly washed apple. Water droplets dripped from my fingers, splashing onto the hardwood floor. My mind suddenly echoed with my mother’s words before she passed: “He didn’t have an easy path to get here, Cassie. Be patient with him.” I set the apple on the counter. And I nodded. He pulled me into his arms, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Good girl. Go check the garage tomorrow. I bought a new Porsche Cayenne. It’s registered in your name. Think of it as your reward.” The day I signed the transfer papers, the sky was completely gray. I sat alone in my office, opening the folder on my computer labeled [CasStart Curriculum Core System]. Three hundred and seventy-two files. From the very first rough draft of the curriculum to the final version of our interactive reading model. I dragged them all into the shared company drive. When the progress bar hit 100%, a notification popped up on the screen: “Transfer Successful.” I shut down my computer. I began clearing out my desk drawers. Almost every scrap of paper was covered in sketches I had drawn at three in the morning, filled with my handwritten notes. At the very bottom of the drawer lay a photo. It was a team photo taken in the office the day CasStart landed its first major government contract. I was standing right next to Ethan, holding the signed contract, smiling so hard my teeth showed. On the back of the photo, he had written: “Cassie, without you, there is no CasStart.” I turned the photo over, leaving it face down on the empty desk. From that day on, my name vanished from all of CasStart’s public materials. I became a ghost “advisor.” Even in the annual company group photos, I stood at the very edge of the crowd, almost entirely cut out.

The next morning, I took Daisy to the library with me. I set her up with some crayons behind the front desk while I sat nearby, working on next week’s lesson plan. “Cassie, someone’s here to see you,” Luna called out. I put down my palette knife and stepped out of the back room. The day I had handed over my work at CasStart, the sky had been just as gray as today. A new intern had knocked on my door back then. She wore thick black-rimmed glasses, had her hair in a messy ponytail, and was wearing a cheap, faded canvas jacket. Her name was Vivian. When she walked in, she was clutching a crumpled photocopy of a research paper I had published in an educational journal years prior. “Mrs. Vance, I chose this major because I read your research,” she had said, bowing deeply to me. “Being able to learn from you is the greatest honor of my life.” I snapped back to reality and handed a library card to a young mother standing at the desk. That faded canvas jacket was the reason I had let my guard down back then. I had looked up Vivian’s file. Her father was disabled, her mother had run away, and she had survived entirely on financial aid and scholarships. I bought her a complete set of professional art supplies. I mentored her personally, step-by-step. Everything I had learned over seven grueling years, I broke down and handed to her on a silver platter. She was a quick study. One night, we were working late. We were the only two left in the office. She suddenly stopped drawing and stared blankly at her monitor. “Cassie, if someone starts with absolutely nothing… is the only way to get ahead to steal it from someone else?” I looked up at her. Her eyes were red, but she quickly looked down and forced a laugh. “I’m just joking. It’s late. My brain is fried.” At the time, I thought she was just feeling insecure about her background. I felt incredibly sorry for her. Only later did I realize. That was the night she had made her choice. Six months later, at the weekly board meeting. Ethan sat at the head of the table, flipping through the quarterly reports. “Vivian’s style is highly marketable.” “The interactive design of this new picture book series has massive commercial potential. We’ll make this our primary launch next month.” I sat a few seats down on his left. I smiled and added, “The interactive structure of that book is actually the advanced layout technique I taught her last week.” Ethan didn’t even look up. He took a sip of his coffee and moved on to the next agenda item. Over the next six months, every single stroke of genius I taught Vivian became a masterpiece published under her name alone. And Ethan began mentioning her at home more and more. “Vivian proposed a curriculum overhaul today. Her pitch was incredibly sharp—most importantly, it’s exactly what the venture capitalists want to see.” “Vivian stayed in the office until two AM last night. That kind of drive… it really reminds me of how you used to be.” I was in the kitchen, slicing tomatoes for dinner. The knife froze in my hand. “Did you actually look at the core logic of her proposal?” I asked, turning around to face Ethan, who was leaning against the doorframe. “Isn’t it the exact same parent-child reading model I designed years ago?” Ethan frowned. “Cassie, this company employs a team, not a shrine built to worship you.” He walked over, looking down at me. “Vivian has a sharp business mind. Companies need fresh blood to survive. Just focus on being Mrs. Vance. Why are you trying to pick a fight with a junior employee? It’s beneath you.” He turned and walked away. On the cutting board, the bright red juice of the sliced tomatoes pooled like blood. At an industry dinner party a few months later, an investor who had had one too many drinks patted Ethan on the shoulder. “Mr. Vance, let’s be honest. The only reason CasStart’s curriculum is so successful is because of your wife, right? I read her early curriculum models. Absolutely brilliant.” Ethan swirled the red wine in his glass and smiled smoothly. “Oh, not at all. It’s a team effort. Cassie’s health hasn’t been great, so she stepped away from the business a long time ago.” On the drive home, he didn’t say a single word. He didn’t speak to me after we got home, either. He took a shower, locked himself in his study, and kept the lights on all night. The very next day, he had HR remove my photo and bio from the “Founding Team” section of the company website. The official excuse was a “website redesign to streamline information.” When someone on an industry forum posted: “The soul of CasStart is still the founder’s wife, Cassie,” Ethan had the PR department issue a formal statement that same afternoon: “The CasStart creative team is led entirely by our Chief Creative Officer, Ms. Vivian Ward. Mrs. Cassie Vance stepped down from all core operations two years ago.” I saw the press release while sitting on the living room rug, hand-painting a bedtime story for the four-month-old baby growing inside my womb. Yet, that very evening, two insulated luxury delivery boxes arrived at the house. They were filled with expensive organic prenatals, gourmet health foods, and designer maternity wear that Ethan had ordered his assistant to fly in. I turned my phone face down on the rug. I picked up my brush and continued painting the little elephant in the book. It was the first book I was making for my baby, titled “Waiting for You.” He’s just trying to protect me from public gossip, I told myself. Everything will be fine once the baby is born.

Vivian became a frequent guest at our house. Every time she visited, she brought home-baked low-sugar treats and prenatal vitamins. I even showed her my unpublished curriculum drafts. When she left, she would stand at the doorway, her eyes red, holding my hand. “Cassie, you are so good to me. I don’t think I can ever repay your kindness.” I patted her hand, smiling. That night, I was sitting on the sofa, sewing a baby blanket. My phone buzzed. A former colleague from CasStart had sent me a screenshot. It was from Vivian’s private Snapchat story. She had forgotten to block the newer employees. The photo didn’t show her face. It was a silhouette of Ethan sitting at his desk, reviewing documents under the warm office light. The caption was just three words: “My only sun.” I stared at those words on the screen. My hand shook, and the sewing needle pierced deep into my finger. Blood welled up instantly. I didn’t reach for a tissue. I just pressed my bleeding finger against my rounded, four-month-old belly. When I was seven months pregnant, in the dead of a freezing winter night, I woke up. A sharp, tearing pain suddenly ripped through my abdomen. It felt like a cold blade was being twisted inside me. Warm, thick liquid instantly soaked through my pajamas. With trembling hands, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. I dialed his number. “The number you have dialed is currently switched off…” I gritted my teeth, sliding off the bed onto the cold hardwood floor. My blood dragged a long, horrifying smear across the wood. I called seventeen times. Every single call went straight to voicemail.

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