Author: Momo Chan

At the Quantum Solutions’ annual showcase, I planned to finally go public with the CEO—my girlfriend, Annalise. But just as I was about to make my move, a man stood up from the audience. Her long-lost first love. His voice, dripping with arrogance, cut through the expectant silence. “Anna, I can finally stand by your side, out in the open.” Annalise offered me no explanation. Instead, a smile bloomed on her face as she wrapped him in an embrace. She turned to the crowd, her voice bright. “This is Hawthorne Croft. He will be joining us as the Chief Scientist for our new quantum computer project.” The hall erupted in thunderous applause, a sea of faces celebrating the reunion of two perfect souls. Annalise caught my stony expression and shot me a warning glare. “Ethan, wipe that look off your face. You have a problem with this?” I gave a slow, deliberate nod. Then, in front of everyone, I walked to the edge of the stage and dropped the brand-new Chief Scientist ID badge into the trash can. 1 “Of course I have a problem,” I said, my voice ringing with a calm I didn’t feel. “Since Professor Croft is so brilliant, why don’t you just get married right here, today? Give everyone a real reason to celebrate.” A collective gasp rippled through my colleagues. They were stunned. After all, I had poured every ounce of my being into the quantum computer project, a crucible that had nearly broken my health. But the shock quickly melted into understanding. Thumbs-up were discreetly aimed my way, whispers of “Good for you” and “So much class” reaching my ears. They understood my magnanimity. Only Annalise, on stage, seemed to see the truth. Her gaze could have frozen hell over. I couldn’t be bothered to dignify it with a response. She despised office romances, a convenient excuse to keep our five-year marriage a complete secret. Every time I begged to go public, she’d preach about setting an example as CEO. She promised we’d tell the world once the quantum computer was a success. And now, she had handed my success, my life’s work, to him. As the crowd showered Hawthorne with admiration—admiration that should have been mine—Annalise’s patience finally snapped. “Ethan, what is this childish tantrum about?” A bitter smile touched my lips. “I’d rather miss a thousand chances than betray a single person.” My loyalty had been my creed. And it had been repaid with this. I said nothing more, turning my back on the stage and walking away. That project was my blood and sweat. I had leveraged every contact, every friendship, to crack the core quantum problem in a record three years. I had collapsed from exhaustion in the lab more times than I could count, all to build the pedestal she now stood upon. But the love I had for her had turned to ash. I would not be the architect of another man’s triumph. The project was nearly complete, but a “paper-pusher” academic like Hawthorne? He could have another five years and he’d still be lost in my code. Down in the parking garage, I swung my leg over the cheap electric scooter Annalise had so “graciously” bought me. A humorless laugh escaped my lips. For five years, she held the purse strings. Every time I asked about buying a car, she shot me down. “The company has cars, Ethan. Why waste the money? Must you always be so concerned with keeping up appearances?” Yet in five years of marriage, citing “professionalism,” she never once let me ride in her car. I had accepted it, believing she was just being frugal for the company’s sake. It wasn’t until Hawthorne arrived back in the country and she immediately assigned him a Porsche that the truth hit me. It was never about appearances. It was about me. My heart was a dead weight in my chest. As I was about to leave, a brand-new, gleaming Porsche blocked my path. Hawthorne rolled down the window, his face a mask of contempt. “Ethan, look at you. Pathetic. Did you really think Anna would ever acknowledge a loser like you? Hilarious.” He sneered. “Thank God she announced it was me today. Imagine the entire tech world laughing if it had been you.” It was his classic move: provoke me, then play the victim to drive a wedge between Annalise and me. So many of our fights had started this way. But today, I was done playing his game. Just then, Annalise came running out of the elevator. In a flash, Hawthorne deliberately jerked the steering wheel, slamming the Porsche into a concrete pillar with a sickening crunch. “Ethan, oh my God, I’m so sorry!” he cried out, his voice a pitch-perfect imitation of panic. “I didn’t see you there. I know you’re upset that I got the position, but you shouldn’t have just blocked my way! If something had happened, I would have felt guilty for the rest of my life.” He scrambled out of the car, rushing towards me with a look of feigned concern. I ignored his performance and tried to maneuver my scooter around the mess, but Annalise’s fury reached me first. A vicious kick sent me and my scooter sprawling across the concrete. “If you want to die, go do it somewhere else! Don’t you dare harass Hawthorne!” A single glance at the security camera would have shown her who was lying. But she didn’t look. In that moment, the last embers of my love for her died. Hawthorne pretended to help me up. I shoved his hand away in disgust, and he immediately stumbled backward, collapsing to the ground with a pained whimper. It was pathetic acting, but for his audience of one, it was a masterpiece. Without hesitation, Annalise slapped me hard across the face, the sound echoing in the silent garage. Then she was at Hawthorne’s side, cradling him in her arms, her voice laced with panic and tenderness. She ran three red lights getting him to the hospital. Watching them speed away, I remembered last year, when I’d worked myself into a stomach hemorrhage to land a crucial investor. Her response had been to send an assistant with a bottle of antacids. A bitter laugh escaped me. I picked up my scooter and went home. Later that night, Hawthorne posted on his social media. Sometimes a little accident is a blessing in disguise. It’s so nice to be taken care of. The picture was of Annalise, smiling softly as she spoon-fed him in his hospital bed. I stared at it, my face a blank mask, and typed a single comment: Congratulations. A moment later, my phone rang. It was Annalise. I expected a storm of accusations. Instead, her voice was a soft whisper. “Ethan… Hawthorne is just like that. Once he settles in at work, I’ll tell everyone about us. I promise.” “The Chief Scientist title is just for show,” she continued, “You’ll still be leading the project behind the scenes. Everyone will answer to you.” “Mm-hmm,” I said, my voice flat. A slap, then a sweet promise. I’d been eating that particular brand of poison for five years. I was full. Sensing my coldness, she fell silent for a moment. “I left a gift for you in the drawer,” she finally said. “A little something to make up for today. Please, let’s not fight anymore, okay?” I hung up, went to the drawer, and pulled out a beautifully wrapped box. A small, elegant card was attached. It read: For Hawthorne. So it was his gift. No wonder she sounded so guilty. Without another thought, I dropped the unopened box into the trash can. Then, I picked up my phone and dialed the number for Orion Dynamics, the rival tech giant that had been trying to recruit me for years. “I’ve thought about your offer,” I said into the phone. “I can start next month.” 2 Orion Dynamics was a global leader in quantum computing, and they had been relentlessly pursuing me for years, each offer more generous than the last. But I had never wavered, choosing to stay by Annalise’s side. On the other end of the line, the recruiter, fearing I might change my mind, didn’t hesitate. “The VP of R&D position is yours. Stock options, a villa, a luxury car—the works. It’s all in the contract.” A chill washed over me. In five years of marriage, I had received less consideration from my own wife than from a company that was practically a stranger. I thought back to the beginning, when she had casually mentioned her dream of becoming a queen of the tech world. For her, I gave up a tenured professorship at a top international university and started from scratch with her. Countless nights fueled by black coffee and sheer will, debugging code until the lines blurred. Countless trips across the country, chasing funding and partnerships. I had wrecked my body for her dream. In the end, I single-handedly lifted Annalise, who knew next to nothing about quantum theory, to the CEO’s throne, while I remained the anonymous tech guy in the shadows. I had given her everything. And for what? To have it all handed to another man. From now on, I was living for me. That night, I booked a flight and drafted my resignation letter. As a final courtesy, I sent Annalise the complete technical parameters and final testing protocols for the quantum computer. Now, we were even. As I packed my bags, I unearthed a box of memories, buried and forgotten. Matching watches, custom coffee mugs from our first anniversary, a photo of us in the lab, a video of our celebration when we published our first paper together… Annalise had collected these things, piece by piece. I couldn’t pinpoint when the dust had started to settle on them. Probably the day Hawthorne came back. It used to be us against the world, spending all night writing code, celebrating every breakthrough together. When I was sick, she would nurse me back to health, whispering about the future we would build, the world we would change. Then, “us” became her staying out all night for “academic discussions” with Hawthorne. It became me collapsing from exhaustion and being admitted to the hospital, and her not even bothering to visit. I guess even true love has an expiration date. I’d asked her why, once. Why the change? Her answer was a cocktail of impatience and contempt. “We’ve been together for so long, Ethan. Why are you still so immature? Hawthorne is a top expert in the field. Shouldn’t we give him the resources he needs? Can’t you just grow up?” Staring at the photo of us in my hand, I felt a surge of bitter amusement. I tossed it into the trash. My phone buzzed. A message from Annalise. Have to accompany Hawthorne to a symposium tonight. We’ll celebrate our anniversary another day. I didn’t reply. I just silently cancelled the reservation at the Michelin-starred restaurant and the custom-made projection show I had planned as a surprise proposal to renew our vows. In the past, she would have just stood me up without a word. At least this time she gave me a heads-up. Progress, I suppose. Bored, I scrolled through my phone. The top trending story stopped me cold. “Tech CEO and Top Scientist on Moonlit Campus Stroll.” The accompanying photo was of Annalise, arm in arm with Hawthorne, walking through a beautiful university campus. The comments were a waterfall of blessings and heart emojis. I casually liked the post. After a long, hot shower, I went to a bar to unwind and called my lawyer to draft the divorce papers. When I got home in the early hours of the morning, I found Annalise standing by the door, her face a thundercloud. “So now you’ve learned to stay out all night?” 3 I stifled a yawn, genuinely surprised. She hadn’t stayed out. Usually, any event involving Hawthorne was a 24/7 commitment for her. Ignoring her, I headed for the bedroom. She grabbed my arm, her grip like a vise. “Married for years, and now you decide to start hitting the bars? I specifically cancelled my plans at the symposium to come home and be with you, and this is how you treat me?” Her voice rose. “Ethan, do you even remember that you’re a husband?” A husband? The irony was so thick I could choke on it. The woman could lie without blinking, and now she wanted to lecture me on responsibility? She spends our anniversary on a romantic walk with another man, then comes home to grill me about my duties as a husband. I remembered all the nights I’d waited up for her, only to be told I was being “too clingy,” “not independent enough,” that I should “focus my energy on the project.” Now that I’d stopped waiting, she was the one who couldn’t let go. I gave a noncommittal grunt, wanting nothing more than to sleep. But she pulled me back, her eyes cold and hard. “I haven’t showered yet. You can keep me company.” There was a time when a request like that would have sent my heart soaring. I would have meticulously drawn her a bath, setting the water to the perfect temperature, adding a few drops of her favorite essential oil. Now, it just felt like another one of her pointless power plays. My eyes caught the faint, tell-tale red marks on her neck. A wave of nausea washed over me. I pushed her hand away, my patience gone. “I’ve already showered. You go ahead.” She stared at me, her expression a mask of disbelief. “So I came home a little late on our anniversary, and this is how you act? I told you, the symposium ran long! Why do you have to be so childish?” she snapped. “You went out drinking, did I say a word? Why are you giving me this attitude?” With that, she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. In the past, I would have chased after her, ready to apologize and soothe her manufactured outrage. Tonight, I just got into bed and slept like a log. The next morning, I woke up well-rested and made myself a proper breakfast. Just as I was about to eat, I realized Annalise was still home. Usually, she wouldn’t set foot in the house until I had groveled sufficiently. With a sigh, I pushed my plate of food toward her. Her expression softened, just a fraction. Then I noticed a keycard on the table. A lab access card. My heart gave a painful thud. It was a master keycard, the one with the highest level of clearance, granting access to every experimental zone. I had requested one for years, and had always been denied. She saw where I was looking and had the grace to look embarrassed. “That’s a birthday present for Hawthorne,” she said quickly. “I’ll get you one next time.” It felt like plunging into ice water. A self-deprecating smile twisted my lips. Of course. Why would she ever think of me? I just nodded and pushed two documents across the table toward her. “Sign these.” She took them with an annoyed sigh. “Give you an inch and you take a mile.” She signed the first document—my resignation letter—without even looking up. I had expected it, but the casual indifference still felt like a punch to the gut. She signed the second one, too—the divorce agreement. It was only after her pen had left the paper that she realized what it was. Her face went pale, then red with fury. She snatched the agreement and threw it at my chest. “Ethan, is this your new game? Threatening me with divorce? You think I won’t sign it?” she shrieked. “Fine! I’ll sign it! Are you happy now?”

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Just before the holidays, my husband and I were supposed to be driving home together. I wanted the passenger seat, but he gave it to his female colleague and banished me to the back. “Isla gets carsick,” he said, his tone final. “You’re the wife, Rose. You should be more understanding.” He had completely forgotten that I was pregnant, right in the throes of debilitating morning sickness. Halfway through the drive, they started smoking, a deliberate act that forced the nausea to win. I threw up. Disgusted by the smell, my husband, Jason, decided to teach me a lesson. He abandoned me at a desolate rest stop. What he didn’t know was that my family was already waiting for me there. This time, I was going home to get an abortion and file for divorce. Later, when Jason found out our child was gone, the regret drove him insane. … This year’s holiday trip home was supposed to be just the two of us, a road trip in our own car. Jason left early that morning, and I assumed he was out buying some last-minute gifts for our families. I never imagined that when I opened the passenger-side door, I’d find another woman already sitting there. I recognized her from Jason’s social media. A colleague from his department, Isla, I think her name was. Young, beautiful, and currently occupying my seat. Seeing me frozen in the doorway, Isla offered a sweet, saccharine smile. “Hi, Rose.” Then, two male voices piped up from the back. “Morning, Rose!” Stunned, I looked at Jason, my eyes demanding an explanation. “Their hometowns are on the way,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “It’s just a ride-share, no big deal.” “And you didn’t think to tell me?” “I’m so sorry, Rose,” Isla chimed in, her voice a soft, placating melody. “Jason was afraid you wouldn’t agree, so he wanted to ask for forgiveness rather than permission. Please don’t be mad at him.” Not wanting to make a scene in front of his friends, I swallowed my anger. “Fine,” I said, my voice tight. “But Isla, you’ll have to move to the back. I want to sit up front.” “Rose,” Jason cut in, his voice sharp with annoyance. “Isla gets carsick. As the wife, you can be considerate for once. Don’t be so possessive.” “Jason, I’m pregnant! The morning sickness has been hell, you know that!” My raised voice made Isla’s eyes instantly well up with tears. “I’m so sorry, Rose,” she whimpered. “I’ll move to the back right now.” Jason immediately put a hand on her shoulder to stop her. “Rosalind,” he snapped, using my full name like a weapon. “You’re just pregnant, stop being so delicate. Don’t you know how to be a gracious host? Get in the back. Now.” My fists clenched. The weight of their stares pressed down on me. I thought of the baby in my womb and my parents waiting for me at home, and I bit back the torrent of angry words. I said nothing, silently folding myself into the backseat. I didn’t realize my silence was just the prelude to a symphony of humiliation. I was squeezed between two large men, but Jason didn’t spare me a single glance. He was too busy laughing and chatting with Isla, their voices filling the car. Isla caught my eye in the rearview mirror, my discomfort obvious. She put on a show of concern. “Rose, are you too crowded back there? Maybe we can switch at the next rest stop.” Before I could answer, Jason jumped in, a note of embarrassment in his voice. “She’s gained a lot of weight with the pregnancy. Mike, Kevin, is she squishing you guys?” The two men, who had been manspreading and pinning me into the corner, shifted slightly. “Nope, we’re good,” they chuckled. “Great,” Jason said, his voice cheerful. “Isla, don’t worry about her. She’s your senior, the wife. It’s her job to look after you guys.” His words were like knives, each one twisting in my heart. From our first date to our wedding day, Jason and I had been so good together. Everything changed the day Isla joined his company. At first, she was just “the new intern.” Then, she became “a bright girl, a fast learner.” Soon after, he stopped saying her name altogether. Instead, Isla just started appearing in his photos, always standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him, their smiles impossibly bright. I had confronted him about it so many times, only to be met with explosive impatience. “Rosalind! I work my ass off every single day, and I have to come home to your drama? Are you ever not exhausting?” “You’re so damn suspicious, why don’t you just chain me to the bed!” We had a massive fight that day. He stormed out and didn’t come back for a week, leaving me, pregnant and hormonal, to cry myself to sleep every night. Now I saw it clearly. It wasn’t my paranoia. It was his guilt. The emotional turmoil churned my stomach. I was terrified I would actually be sick, so I closed my eyes and tried to force myself to sleep. But they, bored with the long drive, decided to start a game of “Name That Tune.” The music blasted through the speakers, the noise making it impossible to drift off. I was caught in a hazy limbo until Mike’s triumphant shout jolted me awake. “‘Wrong Love’! That’s ‘Wrong Love’! I’ve got five points!” he roared with laughter. He turned his head and met my irritated glare. His face fell. “Uh… Rose… you wanna play with us?” Jason cut him off. “Don’t bother. She’s incredibly boring. A total stick in the mud. She’d just kill the vibe.” He forgot. He forgot that we met at a university club event, where he fell for me at first sight precisely because I was the most energetic and outgoing person in the room. He used to say he loved my cheerful spirit, that it gave him energy. Now, to save face for his colleague, he threw me under the bus without a second thought. “So what was it about Rose that made you marry her, Jason?” Isla asked, her voice a gentle prod. “A guy as amazing as you… she must have some special quality, right?” A faint, mocking smile touched Jason’s lips. “She’s… domestic, I guess. A good caretaker.” “Oh, so like a maid? But probably a really good one, right?” “Yeah, that’s the word I was looking for. A maid.” My nails dug into my palms. Staring at the back of their heads, at the easy intimacy of their banter, I gritted my teeth. “Someone as fun as you, Isla, would probably be a much better match for Jason, don’t you think?” Isla whipped her head around, her eyes already brimming with tears. “Rose! How could you say that? You’ve completely misunderstood. I just look up to Jason as a mentor, that’s all!” The tears began to fall in earnest. “I know, you must be jealous. It’s normal, pregnant women are so emotional. For your sake, and for the baby’s… Jason, you should just drop me off at the next rest stop. I can get a ride from there.” Jason’s face immediately softened with concern. He reached over to comfort her. “Isla, don’t listen to her. My wife has some… issues. She says crazy things. Don’t take it to heart.” “You just stay right where you are,” he assured her. “I would never abandon you.” Then, he turned his head slightly, raising his voice to a snarl. “Rosalind! Why is your mouth so damn vicious? Can’t you just sit in the back and be quiet? Do you have to guilt-trip Isla to feel good about yourself?” “You keep this up, and I’ll kick you out at the next rest stop. Stop embarrassing me. No class at all. And to think they call you ‘the wife’.” Mike and Kevin chimed in, rushing to Isla’s defense. “Rose, that was a really nasty thing to say. There’s nothing going on between Isla and Jason, you can’t just spread rumors like that.” “Yeah, jealousy is one thing, but this is crazy. Does pregnancy really make women lose their minds?” Their words came at me from all sides, a barrage that left me no room to speak. Rage and nausea surged within me. I wanted nothing more than to get out of that car, but the highway blurred past the window, a high-speed prison. My voice trembled. “Jason, I am your wife!” “So what? Because you’re my wife, I have to spoil you and cater to your every whim?” “Apologize to Isla!” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I turned my head, ignoring him, and pulled out my phone. I found the name of the nearest rest stop on the map and sent it to my parents. I was done with this car. I was done with this ride. Jason saw me on my phone in the rearview mirror. He cranked the music up even louder. “Rosalind, you have time to play on your phone? Apologize to Isla, now!” “It’s okay, Jason. I’m sure Rose didn’t mean it,” Isla sobbed. “Jason, I am not going to apologize,” I said, my voice ice. “Rosalind, do you want me to throw you out on the damn highway?” he threatened. I stared him down in the mirror, my silence a wall of defiance. Finally, Mike broke the tension. “Hey, Jason, man, let’s not do anything crazy on the highway. Don’t want to get points on your license.” That seemed to cool Jason off. “We’ll deal with this when we get home,” he muttered. I turned my head to the window, forcing back the tears that threatened to fall. Whatever love I had left for him was evaporating with every mile. After my silence, the mood in the car grew heavy and awkward. Jason, having calmed down, tried a different tactic, his voice suddenly soft. “Rose, come on. We’re all friends here, and we have a long way to go. Let’s not make things weird over a few angry words, okay? You’re the wife, the older one. Be the bigger person. Show everyone that my wife isn’t some unreasonable shrew, alright?” I didn’t answer. He tried again, his tone wheedling. “Be a good girl. When we get to the rest stop, I’ll buy you those sour plums you love.” I let out a short, sharp laugh. I still said nothing. Humiliated again, Jason’s face hardened. He didn’t speak to me again. The car fell silent. I drifted into a half-sleep, only to be jolted awake by the acrid smell of smoke. My eyes flew open. “Who’s smoking? Don’t you know I’m pregnant?” A plume of smoke wafted from the front seat. “Rose, I asked Jason for permission,” Isla said. “He said it was okay.” “Sorry,” she added, not sounding sorry at all. “I just get stressed and need a cigarette. You’ll just have to bear with it.” “Rosalind,” Jason’s voice was cold. “You upset Isla. You made her stressed. You will bear with it.” Hearing this, Mike and Kevin in the back started shifting. “Well, in that case, mind if we light up too? We’re dying for a smoke.” I stared at them, horrified, my voice shaking. “You want my baby to breathe secondhand smoke?” “It’s just one cigarette, it’s not a big deal,” Mike said, blowing a cloud of smoke in my direction. He offered one to Jason. “Come on, man. You’ve been good for so long. Indulge a little.” Jason took it without hesitation. “Just this once, then.” “JASON! HAVE YOU LOST YOUR FUCKING MIND? THAT’S YOUR CHILD IN MY BELLY!” I screamed. Jason’s hand froze. He passed the cigarette back. “Fine, I won’t. You guys should put yours out, too.” “Jason, please? Let me just finish this one?” Isla whined, her voice a seductive purr. “Alright,” he sighed. “Isla, you can finish yours. After all, this is your wife’s fault.” “Hey! Well, we’ll finish ours too then, there’s not much left,” Kevin added. Jason glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Rose, just open the window a crack and let them finish. A little smoke isn’t going to kill the baby.” A sharp pain shot through my stomach. I stared at him in disbelief. “Jason, what kind of father are you?” “Rose, your husband is right,” Isla chimed in, exhaling another puff of smoke. “Don’t they say you should raise kids to be tough? If you start now, you’ll probably have a super healthy baby.” The smoke filled the car, a choking, disgusting miasma in the enclosed space. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I fumbled in my bag, pulled out a plastic bag, and vomited violently into it. The sound and the sudden, foul stench made everyone in the car recoil. “Ah! Don’t get that on me!” Mike shrieked from beside me. “Oh my god, that smell is disgusting. I think I’m going to be sick,” Isla complained. Jason’s voice was panicked, but his words were a warning. “Rosalind! Don’t you dare get that on my car!” In my haste, some of it did splash out. Tears from the violent retching streamed down my face, but I felt a strange sense of satisfaction. I had made them as miserable as they had made me, and I no longer had to suppress the urge to be sick.

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To save me, Ethan pretended to suffer a head injury that left him simple-minded. I gave up my chance to go home, staying behind in this simulated world to take care of him. But in the third year of my self-imposed exile, he deliberately ran me over with his car. Then, he took his childhood sweetheart’s hand and looked down at my broken body. “I’ve been waiting for this day,” he said, his voice cold. “Once you’re dead, Maya and I can take your place as the System’s ‘Player’ and live forever.” It was only then that I realized he had been faking it all along, plotting to steal the System from me. But he didn’t know the whole truth. He didn’t know about the punishment I endured. I spoke to the System, my voice a broken whisper. “I’ve found new hosts willing to take my place. Two of them, in fact. Can you let me go now?” 1 “So you were faking it? The whole time?” Lying in a pool of my own blood, I stared up at Ethan in disbelief. He had his arm wrapped around Maya, his dark eyes filled with a chilling frost. “That’s right.” “How else was I supposed to make you feel sorry for me? To make you stay?” “But I do have you to thank,” he continued, a cruel twist to his lips. “For telling me about the System. Otherwise, I would never have known how to save Maya.” Maya huddled in his arms, her face pale and fragile. She was Ethan’s first love, and she had leukemia. She’d been fighting it for years. “Her illness has nothing to do with me,” Ethan had once told me. “We broke up a long time ago.” Now I knew the truth. To save her, he had been planning this for three long years. A tearing pain, separate from the agony of my injuries, ripped through me. It was the System, punishing me. My mission was to make Ethan fall in love with me. If his love wavered, I suffered. “It hurts…” I gasped. The feeling was like being drawn and quartered. I had experienced it countless times, but I could never get used to it. “Does it really hurt that much?” Ethan asked, watching me with detached curiosity. “I thought you ‘Players’ could just have the System turn off the pain.” His casual indifference was a stark contrast to the happy memories I cherished. There was a time when his eyes held nothing but me. I thought I had found true love, so I told him everything about the System. Everything except the punishments. I didn’t want him to worry. The pain intensified. I clenched my jaw so hard I thought my teeth would shatter. “Stop talking!” Every word he spoke was another twist of the knife. Maya stepped forward, her hand closing over mine. “Chloe, does it really hurt that much?” she asked, her voice laced with false sympathy. “Ethan, maybe we shouldn’t do this. It’s okay if I die.” “No!” Ethan’s denial was sharp and immediate. He looked at her with aching tenderness. “Maya, you’re not like her. She’s a ‘Player.’ Even if she dies here, she just goes back to her own world. But if you die, you’re gone for good. You don’t need to feel sorry for her.” Out of Ethan’s line of sight, Maya shot me a triumphant smirk. She leaned in close and whispered, “You know, I told Ethan that if he said he didn’t love you, you would be in terrible pain. And ever since he found out, he’s been saying it over and over.” “He doesn’t love you,” she purred. “He only loves me. After all, I’m the main character of this world.” As soon as she finished speaking, Ethan pulled her back into his arms, his gaze soft and adoring. “I’ve already bought the villa on North Hill,” he murmured. “It’ll be our home after we’re married.” I had once told Ethan that in my own world, I had no parents, no home. My only dream was to have a place to belong. So he bought me a villa—that very same villa on North Hill. I had spent countless hours renovating it myself, pouring my heart into every detail. It was finally ready to move into this year. And now, he wanted me dead. My hand fell limp onto the cold asphalt. I spoke to the System again, my voice devoid of hope. “I’ve found new hosts. Two of them. Can you please let me go?” Ethan, you don’t want me anymore. So I guess I don’t want you either. 2 【Affirmative. New hosts have been detected to assume control of the System.】 【Player, are you certain you wish to transfer me to both of them?】 Hearing the System’s voice, I looked at Ethan and Maya. They were kissing, a backdrop of fireworks celebrating their victory. For a fleeting moment, I saw the simple, foolish Ethan I had known. The one who would say, “Chloe, thank you for being with me. I love you.” The one who would warm my milk every night and wash my underwear for me when I was on my period. No one had ever loved me like that. I thought he was the one I could rely on for the rest of my life. I was wrong. “I’m certain,” I whispered into the void of my own mind. 【Understood, Player. Commencing transfer protocol.】 “Why hasn’t the System appeared yet?” Maya asked impatiently. “She’s probably communicating with it,” Ethan explained. “Just wait. She always gets distracted when she talks to the System.” 【Greetings, new hosts.】 The System’s voice was no longer just in my head. It was broadcast for all to hear. 【From this day forward, you will be my new hosts. Please select your mission target.】 “I choose Maya.” “I choose Ethan.” They spoke in unison, their voices firm and resolute, a perfect picture of devotion. I remembered when Ethan was still “simple.” He had told me, “No matter what, I will always choose you, Chloe.” But now, he had chosen someone else. 【Affirmative. However, the transfer process will take three days to complete. You must wait.】 The System’s voice vanished from the open air, speaking now only to me. 【You will be able to leave in three days. I will heal your injuries from the accident. You may use this time to say goodbye to your loved ones in this world.】 As soon as it finished speaking, the wounds on my body began to heal at a visible rate. “Look, Maya!” Ethan exclaimed in astonishment. “I told you she could have the System heal her! The System is amazing! Soon, we’ll be able to do that too. We’ll never have to be afraid of getting hurt or dying again!” I pushed myself to my feet and looked at him, my heart a hollow chamber of disappointment. He had no idea what he had just signed up for. The System was not as benevolent as he thought. 3 I went to the hospital to see my grandfather. In this world, besides Ethan, he was my only family. He was so good to me. He gave me all his savings so Ethan and I could buy a car. He would save his favorite foods, things he wouldn’t even eat himself, just for me. At the hospital, I ran into Ethan and Maya. They were holding hands, and Ethan was clutching a piece of paper. An ultrasound report. “This is amazing, Maya! I’m going to be a father!” His words were a sword through my heart. I had wanted a child with Ethan, too. Back when he was still “simple.” “I don’t want kids,” he had told me. “They’re too much trouble.” I thought he was just being silly. Now I knew he was telling the truth. He didn’t want a child with me. But he was perfectly happy to have one with her. He must have been sleeping with her even when we were together. 【Player, the punishment mechanism is now being deactivated. You will no longer be subject to penalties based on the target’s emotional state.】 The System’s words washed over me, and I felt a physical weight lift from my shoulders. I was finally free from that constant, agonizing tether. I could live my own life. It was for the best. 4 When my grandfather saw me, he immediately handed me a box of dumplings. “The nurse gave them to me,” he said, his smile warm and loving. “You eat them, Chloe.” Tears streamed down my face. If I left this world, what would happen to him? I had to make sure he was taken care of. I rushed back to the house to get my money. I had been living with Ethan, and all my belongings, all my savings, were there. When I arrived, I found the housekeeper carrying my things out to the curb. “Ma’am,” she said, her voice flustered. “Mr. Ethan told me to throw your things out. He said… you won’t be living here anymore.” I looked at the pile of my belongings. Everything was broken. Including the plaster dolls we had made together. I never imagined he could be so cruel. But my money was still tied to his bank account. I had to get it back. I tried to open the door, but the code was wrong. “He had me change the code, too,” the housekeeper said, wringing her hands. It felt like a physical blow. I struggled to catch my breath. “What’s the new code?” She hesitated, then I pressed her. “My things are still inside. I need to get them.” “20180812.” August 12th, 2018. The day Ethan and Maya first got together. I stumbled back, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. Just last night, he had held me in his arms and told me he loved me. This morning, he had lured me to a deserted road, promising a surprise. He had blindfolded me, my heart pounding with joyful anticipation. And then, he had hit me with his car. Ethan, you wanted me dead so badly. You wanted my ‘Player’ status. But do you have any idea how hard it is to be a Player? 5 I pushed open the door. Ethan had Maya pressed against the kitchen counter, his face a mask of adoration. “Maya, I will love you forever.” My bag slipped from my fingers and hit the floor with a soft thud. Even though I had decided to let him go, seeing this with my own eyes was still a fresh wave of pain. “What are you doing here?” Ethan asked, his voice sharp with annoyance. “You’re not welcome here.” His coldness reminded me of three years ago, when I had defied the System for him. My punishment was the agony of having my bones broken, one by one. The pain was so intense I wanted to die, but I endured it for him. I thought we would spend the rest of our lives together in this world. Now I knew how wrong I was. “I came to get my money,” I said, my voice flat. “All the money I’ve earned over the years is in your account. I need it for my grandfather’s medical bills.” Ethan didn’t even pause. He continued to kiss and touch Maya, his hands roaming her body, as if I wasn’t even there. I felt a surge of nausea, but I forced it down. It wouldn’t be long now. I would be free. “I’ll get it myself.” As I started towards the bedroom, Maya called out, “Chloe, isn’t your grandfather better? Why do you still need money?” Her voice was laced with suspicion. “You’re not planning on taking it back to your own world, are you?” At her words, Ethan’s cold gaze shot to me. “Are you that obsessed with money?” “I’m telling you, even if you earned it, I’m not giving it to you. This money belongs to this world. You can’t take it with you!” I couldn’t believe his shamelessness. The loving, kind Ethan I had known was truly gone. “Ethan, I told you, it’s for my grandfather. I’m not taking a single penny with me.” “I’m not giving it to you. Get out!” I clenched my fists, words failing me. He would only believe Maya now. 6 As I turned to leave, Maya suddenly grabbed my hand. “Don’t go, Chloe. If you really need money, I can lend you some.” The next moment, she threw herself backwards, her head hitting the corner of the coffee table with a sickening crack. “Ah! That hurts!” Before I could even react, Ethan lunged at me, shoving me with all his might. I stumbled back into the hot water dispenser, knocking it over. Scalding water poured all over me. I cried out in pain. “Chloe, why did you push her?” Ethan roared, his face contorted with rage. “If you’re angry, take it out on me! Don’t you dare touch Maya!” He kept repeating her name, “Maya, Maya,” each one a new wound. Didn’t he see that I was burned? But I was too tired to argue. All I wanted was the money for my grandfather. Then I could leave this world behind. “Ethan, just give me fifty thousand. That’s all I need.” “Give me fifty thousand, and I’ll leave immediately. Otherwise, I’ll keep bullying your precious Maya.” “Chloe!” he snarled, his eyes like daggers. He lunged at me again, his hands closing around my throat. The pressure was immense, squeezing the air from my lungs. “Why do you have to be so malicious? Can’t we just part peacefully?” “I wanted to,” I gasped. “But you wouldn’t let me. I just… want the money.” He threw me to the floor. “Fine. I’ll give it to you.” “But on one condition.” “What?” I coughed, my throat raw. “Kneel down and apologize to Maya.” I stared at him, stunned. I thought he had at least some lingering affection for me. After all the years we had been together. “Okay,” I said. I got to my feet and walked over to Maya, kneeling before her. “I’m sorry,” I said, bowing my head to the floor. Suddenly, Ethan’s hand was on the back of my head, slamming it into the ground. The impact was so hard I bit my tongue. “You hurt Maya’s head,” he said, his voice cold. “Now we’re even.” “Fine,” I whispered. “Can I have the money now?” He took out a bank card and placed it on the toe of his shoe. “Crawl over and get it yourself.” “Okay.” My quick agreement seemed to surprise him. He probably didn’t expect me to be so compliant. After all, I had always been so proud. But I was about to leave this world forever. I would do anything for my grandfather. I crawled towards him. As my hand reached for the card, he grabbed my wrist, his voice a low, vicious snarl. “Chloe, you really are pathetic. You’ll do anything for money.” Tears streamed down my face. I remembered his cold resolve when he ran me over. He didn’t care about me anymore. So why should I care what he thought? I took the card and stood up. Just then, my phone buzzed. A message. My grandfather had taken a turn for the worse. He was in the emergency room. I turned to run, but Ethan grabbed me. “You think you can just take the money and run? It’s not that easy!” “You’re staying here. You can be our maid for a few days.” “Let me go!” I struggled, but his grip was like iron. “Ethan, my grandfather is in the hospital! Let me go!” “Hilarious. You get the money, and suddenly your grandfather is dying. Chloe, you’d even use your own grandfather to get what you want.” “I’m not lying!” I was frantic. Just then, the System’s voice echoed in my mind. 【The transfer system is ready ahead of schedule. There is no need to wait three days. Do you wish to initiate the exchange now?】

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While a client was getting handsy with me, my wife, Celeste, was across the table, playfully linking arms with her male assistant, sharing a drink. To keep the client happy, I drank until I had alcohol poisoning, the world swimming around me, my lungs tight and fighting for air. Celeste didn’t spare me a single glance. She was too busy picking cilantro out of her assistant’s bowl, coaxing him to eat. After the dinner, her assistant, a kid named Leo, complained he was bored. So she kicked me out of the car to take him out for a “second round.” “The kid’s been working so hard lately, I’m taking him out to relax,” she said, her tone dismissive. “You wouldn’t get what young people do for fun anyway. Don’t tag along.” She paused, then delivered the final blow. “And I’m going to be out with him all night, so we’ll have to postpone getting the marriage license tomorrow. We’ll talk about it some other time.” We had our wedding five years ago. This was the 99th time Celeste had unilaterally cancelled our appointment to make it official. I just nodded. If she was always going to be this busy, then maybe there was no point in getting that piece of paper after all. 1 The passenger window was half-down. Leo stuck his tongue out at me in a mock apology. “Sorry, Sean! It’s all Celeste’s fault, she just spoils me too much. I’ll make sure she brings you back some late-night snacks!” Before I could respond, Celeste ruffled his hair with a smile. “You little glutton. You think everyone is as greedy as you are?” Her eyes flicked to me, cold and hard. “Don’t bother with him. He’ll just eat it and then complain he’s having some allergic reaction. I don’t have time for those kinds of games.” So, she had seen me struggling earlier. She just thought I was faking it, another one of my pathetic attempts to get her attention. Usually, I would have broken down, cried, argued, tried to make her understand. But this time, I said nothing. I just managed a simple, “Alright. You two have fun.” Celeste seemed taken aback for a moment, then her usual mocking smirk returned. “It’s best if you don’t throw a tantrum.” The car sped away. Just before they left, Celeste, worried that Leo might get stuffy, thoughtfully rolled his window all the way down. I get carsick easily, especially in her car. But she never rolled the window down for me. “The wind blows all the dust in. Can you stop being so dramatic all the time?” I finally understood. I took off my wedding ring and tossed it into the dark, churning river below. The next morning, I went to the orchestra to hand over my duties. Celeste had been a piano prodigy since her debut, and I had been her manager the entire time. “You’re resigning? Does Celeste know?” my boss asked, shocked. “She’ll find out when the new manager arrives.” I left his office and walked to the performance hall. I ran into Celeste, fresh from a shower, wearing a new camisole, her hair still damp. She ran a hand through her hair, her eyes scanning me. “I drank too much last night, so I got a room to sleep it off. That’s why I didn’t come home.” It was the first time in ten years she had ever bothered to explain herself. I just nodded, saying nothing. “Did you have an early meeting this morning?” she asked. I looked at her, remembering all the mornings after a client dinner when I would wake up at five or six to prepare a huge spread of hangover cures and stomach-soothing broths for her. It had been this way since she was eighteen. No wonder she was surprised not to find it waiting for her this morning. “Something like that,” I said. I was about to leave, but Celeste, who had been frowning since she saw me, grabbed my arm, her face darkening. “Sean, that’s enough.” “We’re just rescheduling the license, it’s not like we’re not getting it at all. This little drama of yours is getting old.” But I wasn’t being dramatic. And I really wasn’t planning on getting that license anymore. I figured it was best to be direct. I was about to tell her when a petulant, whiny voice cut through the air. “Celeste! It’s all your fault!” Leo stomped his foot, his cheeks puffed out in a pout. “The underwear you bought me this morning is the wrong size! I can’t even fit into these little triangle things! You’re such a straight girl, you have no idea!” Celeste immediately let go of me and rushed to his side, wrapping him in a hug. Her voice was sharp with concern. “You’re still recovering from gastritis and a fever, and you’re running around barefoot? Are you trying to kill yourself?” A memory surfaced. Earlier this month, I had a bad case of the flu, my temperature soaring to 104. I was curled up in bed, begging her to take me to the doctor. She had just frowned. “What’s the point of you?” “It’s just a little cold and a fever, it’s normal. Just tough it out. You’re so much trouble.” When I came back to myself, Celeste was already helping Leo walk away, her arm wrapped tightly around him. I looked away, swallowing the familiar ache in my chest, and pulled out my phone. I contacted the headhunter who had been trying to recruit me for a position abroad. After booking my flight, a notification popped up. Leo had tagged me in a new post. It was a live photo of a large hand gently rubbing his stomach. In the background, you could hear him sighing contentedly. “Celeste, your hand is so warm~” The caption read: My clueless older sister feels bad that my tummy hurts, so she’s going to make all the pain go away! It feels so good to be cherished like this~ His intentions were painfully obvious. I liked the post, then went to my own profile and removed the wedding photo of me and Celeste that had been my background for years. … Today, another major orchestra was visiting for a joint performance. I was still in the process of handing over my work, so I had to help out. I was responsible for greeting the musicians and showing them to the lounge. As I led the group in, the first thing we saw was Celeste, sitting at a table, feeding Leo. “Wow, I heard the great Celeste married her manager, Sean, a long time ago. I didn’t realize they were so in love!” “I know, right! And a pianist’s hands are her most valuable asset. She’s actually using them to pick out food for her husband!” Yes, a pianist’s most important asset is her hands. For ten years, I had taken care of everything for her, terrified she might get even a tiny scratch. And now, she was using those precious hands to wait on another man. The murmurs of admiration finally reached the two of them. Leo, seeing me at the head of the group, immediately put on a pitiful expression. “Sean, look at Celeste! She’s forcing me to eat this nutritional porridge. I’m so sick of her feeding me!” Celeste didn’t even look at me. She just gently wiped the corner of Leo’s mouth. “Be good. Finish this, and then you can have your fever reducer.” The chatter around me died instantly. I met their awkward gazes with a calm smile and led them to their seats. Once everyone was settled, I pulled out my phone and started the online visa application process. I don’t know when Celeste appeared behind me. She saw my screen, her eyes turning cold, her voice sharp with suspicion. “A visa? Who are you getting a visa for?” Before I could answer, she grabbed my hand, her voice filled with shock. “Sean, where’s your ring!?” “Don’t tell me you accidentally left it at home!” I knew why she was so shocked. In eight years of marriage, my ring had never left my finger. Hers, on the other hand, had never been worn in public. Combined with everything else, a flicker of panic crossed her face. She squeezed my hand, her eyes boring into mine. “Answer me!” I was about to tell her the truth when Leo let out a piercing scream. “Ah! It hurts so much, Celeste! Owww…” Everyone turned to look. Leo had fallen to the floor next to the grand piano, a bleeding gash on his outstretched palm. Celeste pushed me aside and rushed to him, cradling him in her arms. “How could you be so careless!” Leo’s face was streaked with tears. He buried his face in Celeste’s chest, casting pitiful, frightened glances in my direction. “I don’t know… sniff… Sean was supposed to have checked everything last night… I don’t know why there was a huge piece of broken glass on the piano lid…” “Owww… Celeste, it really, really hurts…” Celeste’s gaze fell on the blood-stained shard of glass on the piano. Her face contorted with fury. The next second, she was screaming at me. “Sean, have your little games gotten so twisted that you’re actually trying to hurt people now!?” “Get over here and apologize!” Ignoring the contemptuous glares from everyone else, I walked over to them. “I didn’t do it.” “If it wasn’t you, who was it!? Everyone in this orchestra knows how controlling you are! You’re always the one who personally inspects my piano, aren’t you!?” Without another word, she grabbed a small ceramic figurine from the piano and smashed it on the floor. Then she grabbed my hands and shoved them into the scattered shards. Pain exploded through my hands as countless pieces of ceramic embedded themselves in my flesh. “This is your lesson for today!” she spat, her voice cold. “No one is to help him clean this up!” “I’ll be waiting for you to reflect on what you’ve done. When you’re ready to apologize, you can come find me.” With that, she hoisted Leo onto her back and left without a backward glance. My eyes burned, my vision blurring. Tears fell, one by one, onto the shattered ceramic pieces. My hands throbbed, but the pain in my heart was so intense I could barely breathe. The two little figures on the ceramic ornament were now in pieces. A small, folded piece of paper fell out from inside. Celeste had this made when she proposed to me, a special request from a temple. Back then, her eyes held only me. “Sean,” she had said, “I’ve made a wish before the heavens. We will be together for the rest of our lives.” And now, she was the one who had broken that vow. I carefully gathered the shards, along with my memories and the last vestiges of my love for her, and threw them in the trash. As I passed through the main hall, Celeste’s performance was just ending. The applause was thunderous. She looked radiant, walking off stage to take Leo’s hand and bring him up for the final bow. Celeste had experienced this moment of an artist’s triumph many times. Not long ago, I overheard my boss ask her, “Sean has worked so hard as your manager for so many years. You’re partners and a married couple. Why don’t you ever bring him up to take a bow with you?” Her voice was laced with contempt. “I got to where I am today because of my own talent. He’s just riding my coattails. And he’s getting old. He’s not exactly someone I want to show off.” My gaze returned to the stage. Leo stood beside Celeste, his smile brilliant. The spotlight shone on them, and they really did look like a perfect couple. Just then, my phone buzzed. My visa had been approved. … I was halfway through packing when Celeste came home. She tossed a small brown bottle at me. “Medicine for you.” I picked it up. I had seen this bottle of iodine before. In Leo’s social media post, Celeste was using it to treat his cut. But I’m allergic to iodine. When Celeste was eighteen and just starting out, her prodigious talent had already made her a star. Another, more established musician in the industry, jealous of her success, hired someone to injure her hands. I had thrown myself in front of her without a second thought. I only sustained minor injuries, but a colleague at the orchestra, not knowing about my allergy, used iodine to disinfect the cuts. I went into anaphylactic shock and was rushed to the hospital. It took them nearly a full day in surgery to save my life. My colleagues later told me that for every minute I was in critical condition, Celeste had been outside the operating room, crying. When she came back, she threw a massive fit, tossing out every bottle of iodine in the orchestra and forbidding it from ever being brought in again. I never thought she would be the one to break her own rule. I dropped the bottle into the trash. Celeste saw my action and just snorted. “Use it or don’t. I don’t care.” Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it, and her expression softened. Her voice was gentle as she spoke into the phone. “Leo, remember not to get your wound wet. And you have to watch what you eat for a while. When you’re all better, I’ll take you out for something delicious.” Perhaps my unusual silence made her uneasy. She kept glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. Finally, she couldn’t help but speak. “What happened today… I was just trying to make an example of you. You know how much dirty business goes on in the orchestra.” “The reason I punished you like that was to warn the others. And the reason I’m being so attentive to Leo now is so that you don’t become the subject of gossip.” I just nodded. I didn’t argue. I didn’t explain. “I understand.” Celeste was clearly taken aback. A strange feeling washed over her. She seemed to want to say more, but I had already walked into the bathroom to pack my toiletries. On the corner of the sink, a pair of black and white boxer briefs, not mine, lay there. From outside the door, I could hear a voice message playing on Celeste’s phone. “Celeste, I forgot the underwear I changed into at your place this morning… Can you bring them to me? And I love the smell of your body wash, can you bring me a bottle of that too?” No wonder Celeste was wearing a different style of top this morning. And the scent of her body wash was one she never used at home. She really was so attentive to his every need. Celeste, still on the phone, rushed towards the bathroom. As she entered, she saw me, and the boxer briefs in my hand. Her eyes darted away. “Leo wasn’t feeling well this morning, so I let him change here.” “Mm, okay.” I didn’t react, just stepped aside to let her pass. Celeste packed the underwear away, but as she was about to leave, she stopped. “If you’re going to overthink this, then maybe I shouldn’t go.” I waved my hand, indicating I didn’t care. She hesitated, but then Leo called again, urging her to hurry. After hanging up, she said to me, “I’ll be right back after I drop this off. In the meantime, you can make the appointment. We’ll get the marriage license tomorrow.” With that, she hurried away. Once I had finished packing, I scrolled through my social media. Leo had posted again. The first picture was of a long, delicate hand testing the water temperature in a bathtub. The second was a selfie of Leo, with the blurry profile of a woman in the background, carefully washing his hair. My sister says I can’t get my hand wet because of the injury, so she’s going to wash my hair and give me a bath~ Why do I feel so shy all of a sudden… I flexed my bandaged hands, then took one last, long look around the home I had shared with Celeste for eight years. Just then, a text from her arrived. Something came up, I can’t come back. Cancel the appointment for tomorrow. It’s fine, I thought to myself. I never made one anyway. I dragged my suitcase out the door, got into a taxi, and headed for the airport. I sent Celeste a single text message saying we were over, then turned off my phone as the plane took off. …

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It was the fourth year of my marriage to my arch-nemesis when he got into a car accident. He lost his memory, his mind resetting to the time before we were married. When his eyes landed on my wedding ring, his voice dripped with sarcasm. “Who had the misfortune of marrying you?” 1 I glanced at the gauze wrapped around his head and thought, Pal, if I told you that someone was you, I was genuinely worried you’d have an aneurysm on the spot. “Don’t worry about it. It wasn’t you.” “When did you get married?” “Four years ago.” “And what did I do?” A sly smile spread across my face. “You gave me a huge wedding gift. A very fat check.” His gaze dropped, a flicker of something like melancholy crossing his handsome features. “That’s impossible.” Even with amnesia, he was still impossible to fool. Given our history, he would never have given me a generous gift. He would have been more likely to spike the punch at the reception, just to turn my wedding into the biggest joke of the century. Watching him stand there, lost in thought, my hand moved faster than my brain. I reached out and pinched his cheek. “Come on, let’s go home.” “Home?” His eyes suddenly lit up, as if he’d just been handed a sliver of hope. I quickly fabricated a story. “Right. The Thorne family business went bankrupt, you know? You’re my servant now.” Bart Thorne, who had always seemed unbreakable, finally shattered into a million pieces. I committed to the role completely, calling ahead to brief the household staff. I even cleared it with his parents, explaining that we’d keep up the pretense for a while to let him recover without the stress of worrying about the company. So, as we sat in the car, he clung to one last shred of hope. He called his parents to confirm. The voice on the other end was grim. “Son, it’s true. We’ve lost everything.” He lowered the phone, his eyes rimmed with red. The golden boy, the prince of the city, was now a penniless nobody. After a long silence, he spoke, his voice low. “So, what exactly do I do at your house?” “Oh, all sorts of things. Laundry, cooking, serving tea… and washing my feet.” He turned his head to stare out the window, his sharp, handsome profile now etched with a profound sense of loss, giving him a kind of broken beauty. Anyone would have looked at him and thought, Oh, that poor, handsome devil. Inside, I was about to burst with glee, but I managed to keep a straight face. You have to understand, the usual Bart Thorne was the imperious, untouchable ice king. His life had been a gilded path, a destiny written in the stars. He moved through the world like he owned it. I once joked that the only time I’d ever see Bart Thorne get misty-eyed for me would be at my funeral. The comment got back to him, of course. He’d just smirked and said, “Don’t flatter yourself. The only thing I’d bring to your funeral is fireworks.” Seeing him this vulnerable now? It was absolutely priceless. I spent the entire ride home fighting back a triumphant grin. 2 When we got home, I went straight to my study to deal with a pile of paperwork. Later, when I returned to my bedroom, I found Bart standing there, a basin of water for washing my feet placed neatly on the floor. He was frozen, staring at something in his hands. I followed his gaze and my stomach dropped. It was his pajama shirt. For all his arrogance, he was surprisingly sentimental about some things. He’d worn the same pajamas since college, even after four years of marriage. He turned to me, his eyes clouded with confusion. “You’re married. So why are my things in your room?” I sauntered over, a wicked smile playing on my lips. I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him close. His ears turned a bright, tell-tale red, and he quickly averted his eyes. “Wh-what are you doing?” My fingertips traced lazy circles on his firm chest. “My husband… he’s been abroad for a long time. You know how it is. A girl gets lonely. I have certain… needs that require attention.” His eyes widened in shock. “So… I’m your affair? Your lover on the side?” “Or is ‘plaything’ a more accurate term?” I mused. I opened my mouth to continue, but stopped. He had lowered his head, his eyes shadowed with a deep, weary sadness. His voice was a choked whisper. “A plaything… Fine.” For a moment, a pang of guilt hit me. He looked so lost, so utterly pitiful. Had I gone too far? Bart Thorne was a man defined by his pride. Waking up to find himself a bankrupt servant and now a clandestine lover… was it too much of a blow? But before I could second-guess myself, I was yanked into a fierce embrace. His mouth crashed down on mine, a brutal, all-consuming kiss that left no room for negotiation. It was a kiss of desperation, a reckless, all-or-nothing assault. 3 Even with his memory gone, his skills in this department hadn’t diminished one bit. He’d been in the hospital for two weeks, which meant I’d been on a dry spell for just as long. The moment his lips touched mine, it was like lightning striking dry tinder. In a dizzying haze, we ended up tangled in the sheets. He was more intense than usual, almost frantic, leaving me begging for him to slow down. In the pale moonlight, his eyes burned with a raw, possessive hunger. He nibbled on my earlobe, his voice a low, rough growl. “Like this?” “Yes… just… gentler…” “Me or your husband… who’s better?” “…” “Answer me.” “Ah…” He bit my neck, his movements urgent and demanding, pressing for an answer. My mind was a fog. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to answer; it was that I honestly didn’t know how. Just before I drifted off to sleep, I felt someone pull me into a tight embrace. “Why him,” a voice murmured against my hair, “and not me?” Turning and burrowing into his arms had become a deeply ingrained instinct. I nuzzled against his chin and whispered, “Husband…” The body holding me went rigid. The next morning, I woke up and instinctively reached for the person beside me, only to find the space cold and empty. My eyes flew open, and I shot out of bed. My heart only settled when I saw him downstairs at the dining table, bustling about. It’s terrifying how quickly you can get used to someone. When I sat down, Bart and the rest of the staff stood to the side, waiting. I reached out and tugged on his arm. “Come on, eat with me. Aren’t you hungry after last night?” Teasing him had become second nature. He sat down, looking a bit awkward. Halfway through his meal, he asked, his voice laced with a pained reluctance, “Your husband. Is it… Leo Vance?” I almost spat out my milk. I managed to swallow, forcing myself to remain calm. But seeing the utter desolation on his face, it was clear that the name Leo Vance had left a deep and painful scar on his memory. 4 Leo, you could say, was my first love. Back in college, he was a senior assigned to help with freshman orientation. He was the complete opposite of Bart. From the time we were kids, Bart was the golden boy our parents always compared me to. We became mortal enemies after a massive fight over who got to be the ’emperor’ while playing make-believe. Somehow, our lives followed the same trajectory, and we were constantly in each other’s orbits, competing over everything. I took up piano; his family bought a new Steinway. I started oil painting; he took up sketching. I said I was aiming for Auden University; he said he could get into Blackwood. In the end, he scored thirty points higher than me on the entrance exams, and we ended up at the same damn university. I called it a curse. He called it fate. On campus, we went our separate ways. I was quickly swallowed by the crowd. As I drifted aimlessly, I looked back and saw Bart. His height and striking looks made him stand out like a beacon. I opened my mouth to call his name, but a girl with flushed cheeks rushed up to him, nervously asking for his number. The sunlight caught in his eyes, turning them gold. The words died in my throat. I turned away, never finding out if he gave her his number or not. And that was when I met Leo. He smiled at me, a gentle, welcoming smile. “Hey, freshman. What’s your major?” He was nothing like Bart. He was a world away from the constant competition and antagonism. I confessed my feelings to him after a club outing to an amusement park. “Let’s have an archery contest, Leo,” I’d challenged him. The prize for winning was a little stuffed animal. “I bet you can’t win more than me.” As night fell, the park lights softened everyone’s edges. The wind rustled his hair as he smiled that easy smile of his. “Of course you’ll win in the end. Because all of my prizes… are going to you.” I froze. It had never occurred to me that someone would concede so easily, just because they knew I wanted to win. That night, I told him how I felt, and he said yes. Leo was a wonderful boyfriend. He’d bring me breakfast and a bouquet of my favorite flowers on every date. Even when he was swamped with his studies, spending countless hours in the lab, he always found time to surprise me. If it weren’t for what happened later, Bart and I might never have found our way to each other. Lost in thought, I glanced at his profile. My silence was its own answer. When no denial came, Bart let out a quiet, defeated, “I see.” I was so used to his arrogant, swaggering confidence. Seeing him like this, looking like a kicked puppy, softened my heart. “You know, actually, you—” “I know,” he cut me off, his gaze fixed on the ceiling with a tragic, ninety-degree tilt of his head. “I’m just the other man. I have no right to ask for more.”

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Adrian Wickham came to pick me up. The man who was always so cool and ascetic, so self-contained. He had let his new secretary sit in the passenger seat. And in that moment, I knew. This marriage wasn’t going to survive. 1 The day Adrian Wickham came to pick me up, I pulled open the passenger door and froze. A young, beautiful girl was sitting there, flashing me a sweet smile. “Hi, Mrs. Wickham!” She was polite, but she made no move to get up and offer me the seat. My eyes narrowed, my gaze shifting to Adrian. He was on the phone, his head down, completely oblivious to the silent, crackling tension. We were supposed to be going to an auction together tonight. I had been looking forward to our date, had spent hours getting ready, only to find someone else occupying his passenger seat—my seat. “It’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Wickham. I’m Bella Locke, Mr. Wickham’s new assistant.” The girl’s lips curved into an enthusiastic smile, revealing two dimples that made her look exceptionally sweet. “I heard you were going to a private auction tonight, and I begged Mr. Wickham to let me tag along and see what it’s all about. Don’t worry, I won’t be in your way at all.” My heart plummeted into a cold, dark abyss. I knew this man, this coolly perfect man, better than anyone. He maintained a careful distance from everyone. He didn’t let people into his space easily. We had come together through an arranged marriage, a strategic alliance between our families. We had both considered our options carefully and chosen each other. Outsiders joked that I was signing up for a life of lonely nights with a man made of ice. But after we made it official, Adrian would hold me with a surprising warmth in his eyes. In moments of passion, the corners of his eyes would flush red. “You are my wife,” he’d once told me. “We are a unit. You are different from everyone else.” Today, it seemed, something had changed. 2 But I am not a shrinking violet who swallows her pride. I am Clara Shaw, and I’ve never had to second-guess myself when I’m angry. “Get out.” My voice was ice, leaving no room for argument. The girl stared at me, stunned. She clearly hadn’t expected me to humiliate her so directly on our first meeting. My tone must have been harsher than she’d anticipated, because for a moment, Bella looked completely lost. “I… I’m sorry, Mrs. Wickham.” Her voice trembled on the verge of tears as she scrambled awkwardly into the back seat. Just then, Adrian finished his call and looked over at us. He instantly realized I was furious. A look of weary indulgence flickered across his face. He leaned over and fastened my seatbelt for me. I noticed the seat had been adjusted. A wave of irritation washed over me, and I jabbed at the controls, moving it back to my precise settings. The whole ordeal left me simmering with rage. “This is infuriating! Who dares to adjust my seat?” The air in the car turned frigid. The girl in the back was so intimidated she didn’t dare make a sound. Adrian’s brow furrowed slightly. His voice was calm as he suggested, “If you’re not in the mood today, we can just go home.” In the rearview mirror, I could see the girl silently weeping. I felt a surge of profound annoyance. “Bella Locke, is it? I’m not in the mood anymore. You can get a taxi home. Mr. Wickham and I are leaving.” The girl’s face went pale. She glanced weakly at Adrian, but he made no move to rescue her. Utterly dejected, she got out of the car. 3 Adrian would never humiliate me in front of outsiders. He had always been a master of self-control. Which is why he suggested we go home. If there’s a problem, we solve it at home. That had been our unspoken rule for years. “She’s just a college kid, fresh out of school. Why are you making such a big deal out of this with her?” Adrian said, pulling me into his arms. “It was the first time.” He looked confused. “What was?” “In all these years, that was the first time you let another woman sit in your passenger seat.” He hadn’t realized that was what I was so upset about. Everyone in our circle knew how exceptional Adrian Wickham was. Countless women were infatuated with him, yet he remained aloof and untouchable, navigating a world of temptation without ever being swayed. A faint smile touched his lips as he ruffled my hair. “I can’t believe I finally made you jealous.” He leaned in to kiss me, his nose brushing against my cheek. “She’s my subordinate, Bella. That’s all. There is nothing, and there will never be anything, between us.” He cupped my face in his hands, his gaze locking with mine as he made his solemn promise. 4 A woman’s intuition is a powerful thing. Even though I had only met Bella once, my gut told me she had other ideas about Adrian. I thought my initial power play would be enough to put her in her place. I was wrong. The necklace from the auction—the one that was supposed to be mine—was around her neck the very next day. Kate, Adrian’s chief of staff, sent me a photo and a screenshot of a social media post. In the picture, the crescent-shaped diamond necklace rested against Bella’s pale throat, making her look even more delicate and lovely. Her eyes were swollen, but she had a triumphant little smile on her lips. She must have cried her eyes out last night and received a very generous consolation prize. The screenshot was of Bella’s post: [Mr. Wickham says that a girl has to be strong even when she’s been wronged! Wiping away the tears and getting back to work, sir! ] The post was accompanied by a picture of the necklace nestled in its box. For a moment, the blood in my veins felt like it was turning to ice. It’s embarrassing to admit, but her little stunt almost made me lose my composure. It was a disgusting feeling, like finding a smear of grime on a pristine white silk cloth. The impulse was so strong I almost jumped into my yellow Ferrari, floored it to 120 mph, and slapped her across the face. But then I looked at my own hands and thought, Am I really letting some cheap little schemer get under my skin? That’s beneath me. I made a call to my personal shopper at Hermès. Wendy’s voice was practically buzzing with excitement. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Mrs. Wickham,” she promised. “Even if I have to buy out half of New York, I’ll get everything you need and have it delivered today!” And so, that afternoon, before the workday was even over, every single female assistant to the executives at Wickham Industries headquarters, plus every woman in the general administrative office—a total of forty-six people, excluding Bella—received a generous gift from the CEO’s wife: A twelve-thousand-dollar Hermès necklace. Individually, they were nothing compared to the two-hundred-thousand-dollar auction piece, but the sheer volume of them sent a very clear message. Kate handled the distribution flawlessly. Each recipient was required to post a photo on their social media with a specific caption: [A gift from the boss’s wife! Mrs. Wickham says every girl deserves the best! Time to get to work! #BestBossWifeEver] The women were more than happy to comply. As assistants and admin staff, they were the nerve center of the company’s gossip mill. Who wouldn’t be thrilled to post about a gift like that? Some of the savvier ones even added their own commentary: [Mrs. Wickham really knows how to play the game!]. Individually, these assistants might not have had much power, but their collective ability to spread information was terrifying. Within half an hour, the entire company knew that the CEO’s wife had gifted them all Hermès necklaces. As for why, the corporate rumor machine was already in overdrive. Bella’s face was ashen. She looked deeply humiliated. With tears in her eyes, she fled to the restroom and took off the diamond necklace. Two colleagues who came in to touch up their makeup saw her and let out a knowing, derisive snort. Mortified, Bella kept her head down and hurried out, the sound of their unrestrained laughter chasing her down the hall. Her cheeks burning, she placed the necklace back in its box and returned it to Adrian, untouched. 5 Adrian had just finished a video call with a partner when he saw the girl, who had clearly been crying again, clutching the necklace box and staring forlornly at her feet. “What’s wrong?” he asked, puzzled. Bella’s tears started to fall before she could even speak. She sobbed softly, the picture of pitiable innocence. “Mr. Wickham, please take this back. I can’t accept it.” A flicker of annoyance crossed Adrian’s stern face. His instincts told him something had happened, but he didn’t press her. He simply watched her, waiting. Bella bit her lip, hesitating, before finally telling him everything that had happened in the office that day. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Wickham. I keep causing trouble for you. I just posted that to encourage myself. I don’t know how Mrs. Wickham found out about it.” She sniffled pathetically. “I didn’t think she would get so angry.” She looked as helpless as a little white rabbit. “Mr. Wickham, I want to apologize to her. I can explain everything to her in person.” Adrian never looked at social media. His time was consumed by work. But as the CEO of a major corporation, he was all too familiar with the vicious rumor mill within its walls. His already stern expression grew even colder. “I understand,” he said, his voice low and heavy.

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A new law introduced the “Absolute Equality” marriage contract, and the internet exploded. I proposed to my long-term girlfriend, suggesting we sign up for an AE marriage. No expensive engagement rings, no dowries. We’d split the mortgage and car payments fifty-fifty, take care of our own parents, have two kids—one with my last name, one with hers—and split every single expense after the wedding, right down the middle. On the day we went to get our marriage license, a frantic man burst into the government office, screaming at the crowd, “Don’t do AE! Don’t do it! DON’T DO IT!” I scoffed. “What a simp.” The new era of Absolute Equality marriage was here, and I was going to be a pioneer. 1 I met my girlfriend, Mia, in a college club. She was confident and beautiful, I was outgoing and handsome. The attraction was instant. After a few dates, we naturally fell into a relationship. On our dates, I’d always offer to pay, but she’d insist on splitting the bill later. I’d try to refuse, but she was so persistent I couldn’t say no. I thanked my lucky stars for Mia. Not only was she gorgeous, but she was also kind, considerate, and—best of all—had her head on straight. Not that I was a slouch, either. I didn’t smoke, drink, or gamble. I was a good-looking guy. Mia had scored, too. My friends, especially my old roommates, were insanely jealous. Their girlfriends were drama magnets, constantly creating problems. Every holiday demanded a gift, and they were always getting angry over nothing. They never offered to pay for anything on dates, always expecting the guy to foot the bill. One of my roommate’s girlfriends even demanded a $10,000 “engagement gift.” It was outrageous. Did these women have any idea what a burden that was? It was like they were selling themselves. Compared to them, Mia was an angel. She was a firm believer in the new era of AE marriage: no grand gestures, shared mortgage and car payments, separate finances for our parents, a 50/50 split on all living expenses, and two kids, each taking one of our last names. In a world full of gold-diggers, I had found a real gem. I was determined to marry her. After graduation, I became a programmer at a tech company, making about $5,000 a month. Mia went to a media company as a content manager, earning around $3,000. Once our careers were stable, we started talking about marriage. To boost marriage rates and promote stability, the government had introduced a new smart chip. Once surgically implanted in the brain, the chip could monitor a person’s emotions and physical state, ensuring absolute equality between spouses. It was linked to our bank accounts and would automatically split all our expenses, which sounded incredibly convenient. Just as we arrived at the registrar’s office, a man burst in, looking completely unhinged, shouting, “Don’t do AE! Don’t do it! DON’T DO IT!” He was quickly silenced and dragged away by security. I snorted. “Pathetic.” I glanced at Mia, worried he might have rattled her. But thankfully, Mia was a woman of firm convictions. She didn’t waver. The AE marriage chip was free, a government incentive to get people married. It had been out for a few years with a perfect track record. Not a single complaint from any woman. After signing the papers, we were led to an operating room. I woke up three days later. I shook my head, feeling no different with the chip inside. There was a new app on my phone, linked to our genetic codes. We could type or speak to an AI assistant. We bought a house and a car at the same time, both with loans, with our families each contributing half of the down payment. Our wedding was simple but heartwarming. Mia was busy with her friends and family, and I felt a little awkward standing alone with my relatives. Usually, the bride and groom greet guests together. But we had agreed to split the wedding costs and keep our own gift money, so it made sense for her to focus on her side. Seeing her laughing with her loved ones while my own relatives whispered and shot me curious glances made me uncomfortable. I tried to act casual as I walked over to her. Mia gave me a strange look but then smiled and took my arm. To everyone else, we now looked like a normal couple. After we finished with her family, we naturally moved on to mine. Mia’s demeanor changed. Her lively energy was replaced with a quiet elegance. Her smile was reserved, her greetings polite and proper. I was a little annoyed by the sudden shift, but my relatives were full of praise, which made me feel proud, so I let it go. We agreed to alternate household chores month by month. We drew straws for the first month. Crap. I drew the short one. I rarely did chores, so I was clumsy at everything. I could never seem to mop the floor clean, and Mia would sometimes frown at the puddles I left behind, though she never criticized me. I didn’t know how to cook, and I got home late from work anyway, so we decided to eat out or order in. After we got married, the AE Butler automatically opened a new joint account and transferred $2,500 from each of our accounts into it, for a total of $5,000. The Butler explained that this money was for shared daily expenses. Every night at midnight, it would calculate the day’s spending, split it, and transfer funds from our individual accounts to replenish the joint one, keeping it at a neat $5,000. The money for takeout came from the Butler account since we were eating together. After ordering our food, I added a pack of cigarettes for myself and a bubble tea for Mia. Mia paused, then leaned against me, her voice sweet. “Honey, maybe I should drink less bubble tea, and you could smoke less? We need to save up to pay off our loans.” “Of course, of course.” Mia earned less than me, so she was under more pressure. I understood. I did a quick calculation. After my monthly loan payments and living expenses, I still had plenty of money left for myself. I didn’t have any expensive hobbies. Besides, after six months at my job, my salary would increase, and I’d get a raise every year as long as I wasn’t laid off. Mia’s situation was different; her salary was fixed. No wonder she was stressed. During dinner, Mia was watching an online course. She said she wanted to get a teaching certificate. “Why are you bothering with that? It’s a waste of energy. You might not even get a teaching job, and even if you do, the pay might not be as good as what you’re making now.” I didn’t get it. Studying for a certificate was time-consuming and difficult, with no guaranteed outcome. Why not just relax and play some video games after work instead of wasting time on something so pointless? Mia pressed her lips together and was silent for a moment before saying firmly, “I’m going to do it.” Fine by me. I didn’t push it. I wasn’t going to argue with her over something like this. We gave each other plenty of space. After dinner, I quickly cleared the table. Mia put on her headphones and focused on her lesson while I sat next to her, playing games on my phone. My new colleagues were amazing gamers, and it was a blast ranking up with them. Later that night, after we’d been intimate, I was drifting off to sleep when my phone buzzed with a notification: Transaction complete: $35.00 deducted. As a numbers-oriented guy, I was instantly awake. Something was wrong. Tonight, my meal was $10, Mia’s was $8. The cigarettes were $12, and the bubble tea was $5. The total was $35. A 50/50 split should have been $17.50 each! Mia woke up too. Her phone was on silent, but she picked it up and checked the message. She had only been charged $10.00. “Why was I charged so much more than you?” “I don’t know…” Mia seemed just as confused. “Even if the cigarettes were just on me, that’s still only $23.50. How did it come to $35?” I couldn’t figure out the calculation. I quickly opened the app and asked the AE Butler. The Butler explained that because I had eaten some of Mia’s food, but she hadn’t eaten any of mine, I had to pay for a portion of her meal. !!! This was ridiculous! We were married! Isn’t it normal for a couple to share food? Besides, I didn’t stop her from eating mine; she was the one who said it was too greasy! The Butler replied, “But you are an AE couple.” Whoever designed this chip was an idiot. It wasn’t smart at all; it was completely rigid. Mia, however, seemed to have figured something out. She let out a sigh of relief, lay back down, and went to sleep. I was helpless. The Butler’s programming was unchangeable. I just had to remind myself to be more careful in the future. The next day, I drove to work. Mia’s office was in the opposite direction, so she took the subway. I had offered to let her take the car every other week, but she said the subway was a direct line to her office and more convenient than driving. It was fine by me. I had to transfer if I took the subway, so driving was definitely easier. At the end of the month, it was time to make our loan payments. My share came out to $1,478. I asked the Butler again. What was the reason this time? Was I being charged more for using our shared car more often? The Butler replied: “The monthly car payment is $576, which is $19.20 per day, or $0.80 per hour. On workdays, you use the car for 12 hours, which amounts to $9.60 per day. The remaining 12 hours are split between you and Ms. Shaw, so your daily car payment is $14.40. The system detected that you worked 26 days this month. For the four days you did not use the car, your payment is $9.60 per day. Your total car payment for the month is $412.80. Your mortgage payment is $1,065.20. Your total loan payment is $1,478.” “That’s not fair!” I tapped furiously on the screen. “It’s our car! She’s the one who chooses not to drive it! I only drive it for work!” The Butler responded, “Ms. Shaw’s commuting expenses are also calculated separately.” I understood the logic, but it still felt wrong. If she wanted to take the subway, that was her choice, but the car was ours. She owned half of it. Why was I paying the lion’s share? Sometimes I really wanted to complain about this app, but there was no complaint button. The automatic payments couldn’t be canceled unless we got divorced, and I couldn’t unlink the chip. The next month, it was Mia’s turn for housework. Her company didn’t have overtime, so she got home early and had plenty of time. Mia was meticulous and loved to keep things clean. By the time I got home, the house was always spotless and bright. Dinner was on the table, cooked by Mia herself. She’d been wanting to stop eating takeout for a while. “Honey, you’re amazing! This looks delicious!” I gave Mia a big hug. But her reaction was lukewarm. She seemed a little down. I figured she was just tired. Women really are naturally talented at cooking. The simple dishes she made were incredible. I ate three huge bowls of rice. “It would be amazing to eat your cooking every day. It’s a waste of your talent not to cook,” I said sincerely. “You think so?” Mia’s reply was distracted. She was watching her online course while she ate. Seeing her disengaged, I lost interest and started scrolling through short videos on my phone. After dinner, Mia automatically went to do the dishes. I took a shower, got ready, and settled in for some gaming before bed. The next morning, when I saw the charge on my phone, I was once again baffled. On the expense list, there was an item for “Labor Fee: $10.” I asked the Butler, what labor fee? We hadn’t hired anyone. This charge was completely random. The Butler replied: “As you did not cook a single meal last month, cooking cannot be considered a shared chore within your AE marriage. Ms. Shaw’s monthly salary is $3,000. After deductions, her base salary is $2,200 per month, which works out to an average of $12.50 per hour. Cooking, grocery shopping, and washing dishes took a total of two hours. Therefore, you must pay Ms. Shaw $25, which is split between you at $12.50 each. This amount will be directly deposited into Ms. Shaw’s account.” When I saw the grocery bill, which was in the high double-digits, I knew it wasn’t that simple. I ate more, so according to the Butler’s twisted logic, I was paying the larger share. With the labor fee on top, it would have been cheaper for me to just order takeout. “Good morning, honey. What do you want for dinner tonight?” Mia had woken up and seemed to be in a great mood. “Whatever’s easy. Don’t spend too much time on it. You’ll be tired,” I said casually as I got up to wash. The sink was sparkling clean. “Tsk, she really puts in the effort…” I muttered to myself. That spot was hard to clean. I’d never even tried. Mia cooked every day, a variety of dishes, usually three dishes and a soup, catering to both our tastes. It was a bit more expensive, but her cooking was definitely better than takeout. At the end of the month, besides the extra car payment, I had another charge of $140, also listed as “Labor.” “Didn’t we already pay for the cooking every day?” Where did this charge come from? The Butler replied: “Ms. Shaw spent a total of eight and a half more hours on housework than you did. The hourly rate for a domestic worker in this city is $35 per hour. Therefore, a total of $297.50 should be paid to Ms. Shaw, which is split between you at $148.75 each.” ? That’s not right! I typed again: “Why isn’t it calculated based on Mia’s own hourly wage?” The Butler: “Housekeeping is not within Ms. Shaw’s professional scope of work.”

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For three hundred years, I walked the Path of Apathy, yet I fell in love with every man I met. The serene Hierophant, my stern Archmage mentor, my aloof senior knight, a roguish Warlock… But none of them wanted me. So, I decided to stop torturing myself and joined the Crimson Cabal, a coven dedicated to pleasure. But just as I was about to initiate my first carnal rite, the Hierophant himself dragged me from a bed draped in scarlet silk. A moment later, I found myself facing four pairs of eyes, all burning with a chilling frost. 1 The senior knight was the third man I’d fallen for. When I confessed my feelings to him, my Archmage mentor was standing right behind me. I shyly offered the knight an embroidered pouch I’d spent three days working on. His face remained a mask of cold indifference. “Sister, your focus should be on your training, not on matters of the heart.” Hearing this, I snatched the pouch back. If you don’t want it, I’ll save it for the next one. This embroidery stuff is hard work. “I understand, Brother,” I said, turning to leave. That’s when I saw my mentor, his face as dark as a thundercloud. His eyes were fixed on the pouch in my hand. I instinctively tried to hide it behind my back. Just two days ago, I had used this very same pouch to confess my feelings to him. Now, here I was, offering it to the knight, with my mentor as a witness. It was, to put it mildly, awkward. “Cora,” my mentor’s voice was quiet, but it sent a shiver down my spine. “If you continue this behavior, you will no longer have a place in this Order.” If I were cast out, I wouldn’t be able to see him or the knight every day. Even if I couldn’t have them, just seeing them was something. My knees went weak, and I dropped to the ground, my voice catching in a sob. “Master, I won’t do it again! Please don’t send me away!” A flicker of emotion crossed his face. “This time, I will let it go. Give me the pouch.” Reluctantly, I handed over the pouch that had now been offered to three different men. A faint pulse of magic emanated from his hand, and the product of my three days and nights of labor disintegrated into dust. Fine, I thought. I’ll just make another one. The senior knight was the third man to reject me. The first had been the serene Hierophant from the neighboring Sanctum. I had walked the Path of Apathy for three hundred years, but the first sight of him shattered my resolve. My only desire was to claim him. But he was just an oblivious holy man. I tried to seduce him in the sacred springs, wearing nothing but a sheer, gossamer wrap. I could have sworn I saw a faint blush creep up his bare, tonsured head. But he just squeezed his eyes shut, pressed his palms together, and chanted, “Lady Cora, please, conduct yourself with dignity.” His piety only fanned the flames of my desire. I moved closer, a dance of advance and retreat. I could feel his breath quicken, his eyelashes flutter. “Why not just surrender to me?” I whispered in his ear. “The Light guide me,” he murmured, before practically fleeing the springs. His wet robes clung to his body, revealing the faint outline of a perfectly sculpted torso. The image haunted me for days. I told this story to the proprietress of the tavern at the foot of the mountain. She burst out laughing. “Little enchantress, with your inclinations, you should have joined my Crimson Cabal.” I took a long swig of wine. “But I already have an Order.” 2 After being rejected by the knight, I found myself back at the tavern. The proprietress greeted me at the door. “Rejected again, little one?” My face fell as I nodded. She shooed away the other patrons and brought a flagon of wine to my table. “If you were to join my Crimson Cabal,” she said, her long, slender fingers, tipped with red lacquer, tilting my chin up, “no man in this world could refuse you.” I looked into her eyes, and my heart skipped a beat. Oh no. I think I’m in love with the proprietress, too. A moment later, clarity returned. “You see,” she purred, “that is the power of our secret arts.” I was tempted. But I couldn’t betray my mentor, my Order. When I first joined, I was just a child. He had told me I would be his only apprentice. I shook my head. The proprietress seemed to see my hesitation. She smiled. “Little enchantress, you’ll be back.” 3 When I returned to the Order, I saw my mentor standing before the Alchemist’s Spire, his white robes stained with blood. My heart seized. He was injured? But he was an Archmage of the highest circle. There were few in the world who could harm him. “Master, you’re hurt?” He glanced at me and shook his head, but his eyes were filled with worry. It was only then that I noticed that despite the blood, there were no wounds on his body. The injured person must be someone else. Just then, the head Alchemist emerged from the Spire. “It’s a good thing you shielded her heart with your magic,” the Alchemist said. “Otherwise, not even the Archons could have saved her.” My mentor finally let out a breath of relief. “Cora, go back to your quarters. Don’t cause trouble here.” I stared at him, dumbfounded. I was just standing here. How was I causing trouble? As he hurried inside, I grabbed the Alchemist’s arm. “Who is in there?” “A mortal woman. They say she saved Lord Kael’s life. A benefactor of the Order.” My mentor was an Archmage. How could a mortal woman have saved him? Filled with doubt, I returned to my chambers. My own training had been neglected for far too long. The Path of Apathy was not for me. I spent days in seclusion, trying to recapture the focus I once had, but it was gone. Finally, I stormed out of my chambers and went straight to my mentor’s hall. “Master!” The hall was empty. I went out into the courtyard. There, under a pear tree, I saw him playing a game of stones with a woman. The look he gave her was one I had never seen before. When he looked at me, it was always with severity, with disappointment. Never with such tenderness. I broke the piercing silence. “Master, who is she?” He looked up at me. “Cora, do not be rude. This is my savior, Elara.” So this was the mortal woman. She turned and smiled at me. “Cora thanks you for saving the Master’s life,” I said, giving a small bow. Then I rushed to my mentor’s side. “This is my apprentice, Cora. She is also your senior sister,” he said to Elara, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sister,” Elara’s voice was gentle and melodic, but it grated on my ears. I looked at my mentor and, for the first time, threw a tantrum. “Why didn’t you tell me? You said I would be your only apprentice.” “Do not be insolent,” he snapped, his eyes filled with disapproval. I knelt before him. “Master, please, take back your decree.” “My decisions are final.” “Master…” Elara chimed in. “If Sister Cora is unwilling, I can go to another Spire. It’s just… without you nearby, I would be frightened.” I ignored her saccharine words, stubbornly remaining on my knees. “She is simply undisciplined,” my mentor said, taking Elara’s arm. “That is why she has grown so wild.” And with that, he led her away. I knelt on the cold stone, a single tear tracing a path down my cheek. 4 I was just a child when he saved me from a beast’s maw. I clung to him for three years before he finally relented and took me as his apprentice, promising that I would be his only one. I had cherished that promise for three hundred years. I shed my magical protections, letting my mortal body bear the full weight of my vigil on the cold, hard flagstones. That night, snow began to fall. The flakes melted the moment they touched my skin. I knelt there for three days. He never came to see me. In those three days, he held a grand initiation ceremony for Elara. It was an honor I had never received. On the third night, I used my sword to pull myself to my feet. The senior knight was standing behind me. “Sister, don’t be willful.” He reached out to help me, but I dodged his hand. He was the one who broke his promise first. I limped down the mountain into the blizzard, letting the skills and spells he had taught me dissipate one by one. Just before I lost consciousness, I knocked on the proprietress’s door. When I awoke, the chill was gone, replaced by the sweet, cloying fragrance of a woman’s chambers. I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through my body. The proprietress’s voice came from behind the bed hangings. “Don’t move yet. Your legs were nearly crippled. You need to rest.” I looked down at my numb legs as the memories flooded back. “Mistress,” I said, “I want to learn the arts of the Crimson Cabal.” She laughed. “To cast aside three hundred years of magic just like that… you are a cruel one, little enchantress, even to yourself.” For three hundred years, I had trained day and night, just to avoid seeing disappointment in his eyes. The hardships I had endured were far worse than this. The image of his gaze on Elara flashed in my mind, and a bitter smile touched my lips. My three hundred years meant less than her few days. Once I recovered, I stayed at the tavern. I helped the proprietress with the guests and practiced my new arts. Within three months, my power had already surpassed the level I had reached after three hundred years on the Path of Apathy. Even the proprietress praised me as a once-in-a-millennium talent. Whenever she did, I would smile shyly and ask, “So, when can I perform my first rite?” “Have you found someone who stirs your heart?” I shook my head. In my time at the tavern, I had seen many handsome and powerful men, but none had moved me. “Then wait a little longer.” I was confused. Why did I have to wait for someone I desired? Was that a requirement for the Cabal’s rites? The proprietress beckoned me closer and whispered in my ear, “A carnal rite, at its core, is a matter of passion. Naturally, you should choose someone you desire. That is where the pleasure lies.” I nodded, not quite understanding. It was a pity. I hadn’t felt that spark in a long time. Until the day I saw the Warlock, Zephyr, dressed in crimson robes. And following him was none other than the Hierophant, Lyren. My heart, after a long silence, began to beat again. 5 When he saw me, Lyren looked away, pretending not to know me. “Wine!” the man in red called out. I brought over two flagons of the tavern’s strongest brew. Lyren looked incredibly uncomfortable as I approached, his eyes darting away. He made it seem as if there was some sordid secret between us, when all I had done was confess my feelings to him in the sacred springs. He had refused, and I had let it go. My target today was the man in red sitting across from him. I placed the wine on the table and filled a cup for him. My new skills were still untested, and as I poured, I unconsciously used the same subtle enchantment the proprietress had used on me. I saw his gaze grow hazy with fascination, and a sense of triumph swelled within me. The arts of the Crimson Cabal were indeed effective. The next moment, a strong hand pulled me away, and I let out a small cry. Lyren dragged me into the back courtyard before releasing me. “You are a disciple of the Order of Light. How can you practice these seductive, dark arts?” I was baffled. You can sit and drink with a Warlock, but you condemn my magic as dark? “I am no longer a disciple of the Order of Light,” I said coldly. It had been three months since I left. My mentor had never once tried to contact me. Instead, he had announced to the world that he was taking Elara as his final apprentice. I no longer wanted to be his disciple. It was a position I had begged for, and now, I no longer wanted it. Lyren’s eyes widened. “Do you know that desertion is a grave crime?” I shrugged. There was no one left in the Order for me to care about. If Kael ever came for me with his sword drawn, I would meet him with my own, and I would fight with all my strength. “Don’t tell the Order you saw me here. Otherwise, I’ll tell the world you saw me naked in the springs.” Lyren’s face flushed again. “I am not a gossip. But your presence here will not remain a secret for long, with or without my help.” Seeing that blush on his usually serene face sparked a wicked thought, but I suppressed it, mentally chanting a few prayers. A strange sense of morality surfaced. It was probably best not to mess with a holy man. But the thought of pulling the serene Hierophant from his pedestal was so tempting. I swallowed hard. Lyren seemed to notice and immediately adopted a posture of someone trying to avoid a venomous snake. Just then, the man in red, Zephyr, came looking for him. His tone was lazy, teasing. “Master Lyren, you were gone for so long. Were you having a secret tryst with a lover?” A new target. I shifted my attention from Lyren. “Don’t be ridiculous. This is a disciple of the Order of…” Lyren’s words trailed off as he remembered I had left. “Oh? The lady is of the Order of Light?” I walked over to him, my smile sultry. “I am no ‘lady’ of the Order.” Zephyr caught the hand I had placed on his chest. I feigned a cry of pain. “You’re hurting me.” “Your mannerisms,” he said with a faint smile, “are quite similar to those of my own kind.” To my eyes, he only grew more alluring. I realized, with a start, that I had fallen into his trap. When he looked at me, he had been using the same enchantment I had used on him. His earlier look of fascination had been a performance to fool me. Outplayed, I felt a surge of anger and stormed away.

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For my birthday, my friend gave me a designer handbag. When my roommate saw it, she couldn’t stop gushing about how generous my friend was and begged me to introduce them. I let her join a game with us, and then she pestered me to add her to our group chat. Just as I was about to add her, a line of text flashed before my eyes: [Don’t do it. The social butterfly roommate will take over your entire friend group.] [You’re about to be frozen out by both your friends and your roommate.] [In the end, you’ll die by suicide due to depression.] I slowly lowered the phone I had just picked up. And replied to her: “My friends don’t like playing with strangers.” 1 Seeing my refusal, my roommate, Susan, didn’t let up. “How do you know if you don’t try? I’m so good with people, I’m sure they’ll love me. My best quality is that I can get along with anyone.” Susan continued to sing her own praises, but my attention was fixed on the text floating in front of me. The social butterfly roommate will take over your entire friend group. Was that about me? Was Susan the “social butterfly roommate”? Frozen out by both your friends and your roommate? Whether it was real or not, I decided to be cautious. Ever since she saw the birthday gifts my friends gave me, Susan had been clinging to me, begging for an introduction. As an introvert, I hated having new people suddenly thrust into my friend group. I had already refused her twice. The third time, I was in the middle of a game when she started pestering me to join. My friends were urging me to get online. Suddenly, she leaned over and shouted into my headset, “Hi! I’m Leah’s roommate, and I love playing Valorant too! Can I join you guys?” My friends were in a hurry to start. “Sure, sure!” one of them said cheerfully. “We’re short one player anyway. The more the merrier!” Susan dominated the voice chat, shouting and laughing. Every time I tried to say something to my friends, her voice would cut in. I eventually just gave up and stayed quiet. After the match, she had the nerve to criticize my performance. “Leah, your skills are terrible. Don’t worry, I’ll carry you for a few more rounds.” “Add me to your group chat,” she demanded. “That way I’ll be online whenever you guys want to team up.” I hesitated. Just as I was about to give in, the strange text appeared. I changed my mind. “My friends don’t like strangers,” I said. But I should have known Susan’s “social butterfly” nickname wasn’t for nothing. I had just come out of the bathroom when Susan waved my phone at me triumphantly. “Leah, I asked your friends, and they all really like me! They said it’s fine for me to join your group.” My eyes narrowed. “Did you go through my phone without my permission?” She rolled her eyes. “I just borrowed it. If I had their contact info, I wouldn’t have needed to!” I was about to argue when another line of text appeared overhead: [Ugh, I’m gonna be sick. Taking something without asking is stealing. She’s really desperate to get into this friend group.] [Just watch. If Leah doesn’t add her, she’ll just do it herself secretly.] [That’s right. Tonight, she’s going to use Leah’s phone to add herself to the group chat, then claim Leah begged her to join.] Reading these lines, an idea began to form. I ignored Susan, took my phone back, and walked out of the dorm. She stomped her foot in frustration behind me. That night, I went to bed early. I hid my old phone on a bookshelf, positioning it to record the room, and left my current phone on my desk, pretending I’d forgotten it. In the middle of the night, I heard a rustling sound from under my bed. 2 Susan tiptoed over to my desk. She stood there for a long time before finally leaving. The next morning, with no classes, I was woken up by the incessant buzzing of my phone on the desk. I got up to wash my face, and when I unlocked my phone, my world came crashing down. Susan was chatting animatedly with my friends in the group. It had started with a picture she’d taken of me sleeping, which she’d posted in the chat. They were all making fun of me. It felt like having my privacy stripped bare in public. What hurt even more was that my three best friends were joining in on the laughter. Their lighthearted jokes felt like salt in a wound. Seeing that I was awake, Susan tagged me: “@Leah, our star has finally risen.” Furious, I typed back, “Why did you take a picture of me while I was sleeping?” Susan quickly sent back an innocent-looking emoji. “We’re all friends here. I just thought your sleeping position was funny and wanted to share it with everyone. It was just a joke, you don’t have to get so worked up!” What made me even angrier was that my friends started to placate me, all of them thinking I was overreacting. “We’re all friends, it was just a joke. Don’t be mad.” Seeing that everyone was on her side, Susan quickly added, “Leah, everyone got you such expensive gifts for your birthday because they really consider you a friend. It was just a little joke, and you’re having such a huge reaction. You expect everyone to be nice to you, but you can’t take a joke? That’s such a double standard.” Her words cast a chill over the group chat. Just as I was at a loss for what to do, the text appeared again. [The roommate is starting to gaslight her. She’s the one who was in the wrong, but she’s turning it all around on Leah.] [Leah, don’t doubt yourself. You’re not wrong. Your friends and your roommate are. She’s trying to make everyone dislike you by putting you down.] [This is the first step in her takeover of your friend group. By undermining you, she’s getting closer to your friends.] Despite my unease, I had started to doubt myself. Reading the text gave me strength. I replied coolly, “Shouldn’t friends respect each other? Don’t you need someone’s permission to make a joke at their expense? Besides, you used my phone to add yourself to the group without my permission. You’ve got some nerve.” The group went silent. Susan sent a crying emoji and explained, “Leah, you were the one who added me, remember? You must have forgotten.” I immediately sent the video I had recorded into the group chat. Susan started sending tearful voice messages. “I was waiting for you to send me Bri’s contact info, but you fell asleep. I didn’t want to wake you, so I just used your phone to get into the group.” Her damsel-in-distress act worked. My friends jumped in to mediate. [It’s fate! Leah, just let it go.] [Yeah, yeah, your friends are our friends.] [The most important thing is that we can all hang out together.] She seized the opportunity. “Besides, Leah, why were you recording in the dorm room? You just don’t trust me!” My friends chimed in. [Yeah, Leah, you were in the wrong on that one, too. Just drop it.] Susan exclaimed, “Exactly! I’ll be the bigger person and not hold it against you.” Seeing that they were all siding with her, I didn’t say anything more, but my heart had turned to ice. After that incident, I started to lurk in the group chat, rarely speaking. Susan, on the other hand, became incredibly active, constantly starting new conversations, acting as if she were the real friend to my friends. Every time they discussed something new in the chat, Susan would corner me in the dorm and talk my ear off about it, always ending with a jab: “Are you sure you guys were friends in high school? It feels like you have nothing in common with them. You don’t really fit in, do you?” I didn’t get angry. I was more curious to see how she planned to take over my friend group. Two weeks later, my friend Brianna’s birthday was approaching. Susan quietly asked me in the dorm, “Your friends got you a designer bag for your birthday. What are you getting for Bri?” Before I could answer, the text appeared again. [Be careful, Leah. Don’t fall into her trap. She’s going to swap the gifts to completely alienate you from your friends.] [The roommate has secretly gone through your phone and bought the exact same gift, but it’s a fake.] [After being framed, you’ll be ostracized by your friends. With the roommate’s added manipulation, you’ll be isolated at school too.] I turned to Susan and said with a smile, “I’m getting her the latest earrings from the new collection.” Susan quickly waved her hands. “Oh, you don’t have to tell me.” I was curious to see how she would manage to swap my gift. 3 In the dorm, I showed my roommates the birthday gift I had bought for Brianna. It was a pair of earrings, a wreath of green jade with jade feathers dangling below. Everyone gasped. “They’re beautiful.” Susan, however, was unusually calm. She was hunched over her desk, writing furiously. My other roommate, Yolie, nudged her. “Susan, look! These earrings are gorgeous.” Susan didn’t even look up. “I’m busy with a proposal for my club. Don’t bother me.” Yolie pouted and turned away. As everyone chattered, Susan kept her head down, but I could see her sneaking glances out of the corner of her eye. I suddenly had an idea. “Hey, let’s all go shopping. I’ll show you some even more beautiful jewelry, and I’ll treat you all to bubble tea.” Everyone was on board. Yolie called out to Susan again, but she just repeated that she was too busy. I put the earrings back in their box and placed it in my locker. I never bothered to lock it. My roommates and I went out for the entire afternoon, leaving Susan alone in the dorm. When we got back that evening, I opened my locker to change and glanced at the earring box. Sure enough, it had been opened. I casually asked, “Susan, Bri’s birthday is in a couple of days. Are you coming?” Susan readily agreed. “Of course! Bri invited me. We can go together.” The night before Bri’s birthday, I suddenly came down with a bad case of diarrhea. I was up all night, running to the bathroom more than a dozen times. The next morning, Susan helped me to the campus clinic. As I was getting an IV drip, she reminded me, “Leah, you’re in no condition to go today. Why don’t you give me the gift, and I’ll take it for you?” I was completely drained and weak. I had no choice but to tell Susan to get the gift from my locker. After she got it, she even sent me a picture of it. On Bri’s birthday, the group chat was eerily silent. Usually, we’d be flooding it with pictures of the cake, the gifts, everything. I didn’t know what Susan had said, but the silence was unsettling. That evening, Susan returned, her face beaming with suppressed joy. The moment she saw me, she quickly wiped the smile off her face and looked at me with a hesitant expression. She came over to my bed and whispered, “Leah, Bri said the earrings you got her look like fakes.” “I think there must be a misunderstanding,” she continued, her voice full of concern. “Don’t worry. Think about it, maybe you got scammed.” “I didn’t want them to say anything in the group because I was afraid it would upset you. Why don’t you apologize to Bri later and get her another gift? Don’t let this ruin your friendship.” She looked so genuinely concerned. If I hadn’t known the gift had been swapped, I would have been completely fooled by her performance. I replied with feigned agitation, “That’s impossible! I have the receipt. The sales associate said they could be engraved, so I had them put the first letter of Bri’s name, ‘B,’ inside. I’m calling Bri right now, and we’ll go to the store to get them authenticated.”

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I’d been in love with Ethan Eriksen for five years. His brother, Liam, had been in love with Zoe Miller for just as long. Then, on New Year’s Eve, I waited at the movie theater, but Ethan never showed up. Liam waited at the amusement park, but Zoe never came. Instead, what we both got was their relationship announcement, posted simultaneously on Instagram. Later, we huddled together. He said, “How about we just… make a go of it? We’re a known quantity, after all.” I was quiet for a moment, then nodded. “Okay.” And so began our mad dash—trying on wedding dresses, scouting venues, picking a date, writing invitations—all with the single-minded goal of getting married before they did. It was later, as I was dizzy from looking at venue after venue, that Ethan Eriksen knocked on my door. His jaw was tight, the rims of his eyes red as he asked me, “Are you serious? Are you really going to marry Liam? Have you really thought this through?” 01 On New Year’s Eve, I was standing in a mall on Central Avenue, watching the balloons being released outside, watching countless couples embrace in the falling snow. I clutched a movie ticket in my hand as a gentle flurry danced in the air. I couldn’t quite name the feeling. It was just a hollow realization that after all these years of loving Ethan, it was all coming to nothing. My phone buzzed. I glanced at the screen. It was Liam, Ethan’s younger brother. The message was short: She didn’t show either. I had grown up with Ethan and Liam. Later, I fell for Ethan, and Liam fell for my roommate, Zoe. We’d made a pact: he’d help me, and I’d help him. A tragic comedy, really. On New Year’s Eve, he was stood up by Zoe, and I was stood up by Ethan. I let out a slow, shaky breath and was about to leave when Liam called. The background was noisy, but his voice, though clear, was rough and hoarse. “Did you see their Instagram posts?” A cold dread washed over me. My hand hovered over the screen, frozen. It felt like if I tapped that icon, everything would shatter. But I did it anyway. It was New Year’s, so my feed was flooded with couples’ photos. I only had to scroll a little before I saw it. For a moment, confusion eclipsed the heartache. The photo they’d both posted was an old one, from high school. In it, Liam and Zoe stood on the school’s athletic field, smiling and flashing peace signs at the camera. They both looked so genuinely happy. Ethan rarely smiled like that in photos with me. And Zoe had never wanted her picture taken with Liam. Zoe was my high school classmate. We became roommates when she was having trouble at home and decided to board at school. I was going through a rebellious phase myself, so my parents asked Ethan and Liam to bring me things from home. That’s how Zoe got to know them. But when… when had they fallen for each other? And why did Liam and I feel like two utter fools, moths drawn to a flame that was never meant for us? I couldn’t speak. Something was caught in my throat, a painful, suffocating lump. Liam was still on the line, silent. Finally, he spoke. “Are you still at the theater?” “Yeah,” I managed. “Wait for me. I’ll buy new tickets. We’ll go watch it.” “Okay,” I replied. It was a humiliating night, but at least I had someone to share the humiliation with. That made it a little less painful. While waiting for Liam, I didn’t try to piece together the clues I’d missed. My mind was just… empty. I didn’t cry. It all just happened too fast. I don’t know how long I waited, crouched by the entrance until my legs went numb. Finally, I saw him on the escalator. He’d dyed his hair a fiery red a few days ago, saying it was for a prosperous new year, a sign of good things to come. I had wanted to dye mine red too, but since he beat me to it, I’d settled for a milky tea-brown. He spotted me and quickened his pace. I waved a weak hand at him. “Give me a hand. My legs are asleep.” Liam pulled me up and studied my face. “Not bad,” he said with a half-smile. “No tears.” I hammered at my tingling legs, the pins-and-needles sensation a weirdly sharp relief. “You either.” “Eh,” he waved a dismissive hand. “Come on, let’s go. We’ll be late.” We both tacitly agreed not to talk about it anymore. After the movie, he drove me home. It wasn’t until I had washed up and was ready for bed that I saw the message from Zoe. Mia, Ethan and I are together now. Are you mad? I closed my eyes, a wave of irritation washing over me as I lay in bed and typed back a single, flat word: No. Who she was with was her business, even if it was Ethan. But I had considered her a friend. I had giddily shared every moment of my youthful crush on Ethan with her. And she had never said a word. She just let me chase him for years, only for them to get together in the end. Grief and anger swelled in my chest. I wasn’t mad that it was her with Ethan. I was mad that she had never told me she liked him too. What was she thinking all those times I’d shared my feelings with her? Was she laughing at me, at my pathetic, one-sided devotion? Suddenly, she felt like a stranger. A terrifying one. A reply came back instantly, as if she knew exactly what I would say. Oh, Mia, I’m so sorry. I’m so glad you’re not mad. I wanted to tell you, I just… I just didn’t know how to start… Her text was long. I exited the chat and unpinned her from the top of my list. Her last message came through: Mia, do you want to get barbecue at that place on Central tomorrow? I knew what it was. A test. To see if I was really angry. But our friendship was over. Whether I was angry or not, what she thought no longer mattered. No thanks, I’m pretty tired. Going to bed. A few moments later, another message came. Not from her, but from Ethan. I was the one who pursued Zoe. I liked her first. Mia, I hope you don’t blame her or take your anger out on her. How could I explain it? I used to love Ethan so much, the kind of love that filled my entire being, threatening to spill over. But now, in a single night, it had curdled. A wave of nausea washed over me. This couldn’t have been a sudden thing. They couldn’t have just suddenly fallen for each other. They had watched Liam and me like we were clowns in their private circus, enjoying our devotion, only to turn around and say, Thanks for liking me, but I don’t like you back. I could accept any outcome, but I couldn’t accept that the person I had loved for so long was, in reality, a complete piece of shit. I didn’t reply. Instead, I screenshotted both messages and sent them to Liam. You get one of these? A moment later, he sent one back. It was from Zoe. The gist was: Thank you for liking me all these years… Liam: Tell me something, Mia. In five years, how did she never once mention she liked my brother? We’re not that pathetic, are we? We wouldn’t have kept chasing them if we knew they liked each other. A five-year chase. A much longer crush. Me: My bad luck for meeting them. But I don’t want to see them ever again. Which means I’ll probably see them tomorrow. And then I’ll have to say it’s fine, it’s okay, and it’ll all be fake, but they won’t be happy until they hear it, so they can feel better about themselves. As I typed, a surge of frustration hit me. I wanted to delete them, block them, erase them. Liam: Same. My brother just knocked on my door asking if I was asleep. I didn’t answer. It’s just exhausting. I’m not even that sad, I’ve been chasing her for so long I can accept it. It’s the ‘why them’ that stings. How could they do this to us? Suddenly, an idea sparked in my mind. A second later, Liam was calling me. We’d been like that since we were kids—partners in crime, our wild ideas often syncing up perfectly. “You know…” I started. “What if we…” he said at the same time. I pursed my lips. “You go first.” “Ahem.” Liam cleared his throat. “How about we just… make a go of it? We’re a known quantity, after all.” I was silent for a beat. I knew he couldn’t see me, but I nodded anyway. “Okay.” “And,” he added, “we’ll get married before they do.” “Don’t worry,” I said. “Leave it to me.” 02 I never knew Liam could be so efficient. Last night, I couldn’t squeeze out a single tear to mourn my wasted years, wondering if my affection for Ethan had already withered away during those hopeless years of pining. This morning, early—and I mean early—my mom was knocking on my door like a SWAT team raid, each knock louder than the last. “Mom, what are you doing so ear—” I opened the door, hair a mess, my complaint dying on my lips as she clamped a hand over my mouth. “Honey, you… you need to get washed up and come downstairs. Now.” I blinked, my eyes heavy with sleep. “What’s wrong?” “Your boyfriend is here to propose,” she whispered excitedly in my ear. My mom was always nagging me to date and get married, even threatening to set me up on blind dates. Seeing Liam here today, asking for my hand, was probably the happiest she’d been in years. “Huh?” The words shocked me fully awake. No way. I crept to the landing and peered downstairs. The living room was filled with familiar faces, and on the coffee table were velvet boxes that glinted under the crystal chandelier. I showered, did my makeup, and changed in record time before heading down. Liam’s mother saw me and beckoned me over with a warm smile. “Mia, sweetheart, come have some breakfast. Your uncle and I picked it up from the dim sum place.” Then she turned to my mom, her expression apologetic. “Susan, I’m so sorry for showing up so suddenly. We must have startled you.” “Oh, don’t be silly! We’ve watched these two grow up. If they want to join our families, I couldn’t be happier!” “Exactly,” my dad chimed in. “Our families know each other inside and out. We don’t need all that formal nonsense.” Liam was wearing a formal suit, his hair slicked back, sitting ramrod straight. “You work fast,” I whispered, sliding into the seat next to him and taking a bite of a shrimp dumpling. He leaned in. “Well, I saw that my brother wasn’t home. I figured if he came with us to propose, it might be… awkward for you.” I just raised an eyebrow and said nothing. Our parents were already enthusiastically planning the wedding. “I think the fifth of next month would be a lovely day. The almanac says it’s perfect for a wedding.” “Oh yes, a perfect date!” “Great, it’s settled then…” Liam and I stared at each other, stunned. “Why are they in a bigger hurry than we are?” I mouthed. He leaned close to my ear. “They’re probably both terrified we’ll back out.” Suddenly, that made perfect sense. My mom was always sighing dramatically, “Why are you young people so against getting married these days?” 03 The following weeks were a whirlwind of trying on dresses, scouting venues, and writing invitations. Ethan and Zoe went on a trip to Seabrook, posting a new picture to their story every day. They looked deliriously happy. While I was waiting for Liam to change into a suit, I found myself staring at a picture of them with a vast ocean in the background, a little dazed. The truth was, Liam and I had planned a trip to Seabrook a long time ago. I had even told Zoe about it. Seabrook was a coastal city, and when I saw a travel blogger’s video of it, I’d immediately sent it to her. I had wanted to go with him for my birthday. But then Zoe sprained her ankle, and I’d stayed to take care of her, so the plan was postponed. I never imagined the two of them would end up going together. “What are you looking at?” Liam emerged in a tailored black suit, a gentle smile on his face. I didn’t hide it, just turned the phone so he could see. He was buttoning his jacket. As he looked up, I said, “Let me help.” Once the buttons were done, he finished looking at the photo, set my phone down, and asked, “Do you want to go?” I shook my head, then nodded. “Yes.” Even though Liam and Ethan were twins, once you got to know them, they were easy to tell apart. Ethan was the type who couldn’t be bothered with people, always aloof, superior, and impatient. Liam, on the other hand, had his mother’s eyes. They crinkled when he smiled, bright and beautiful. He was sunny and emotionally steady. “It’s not because they went,” I said, my gaze firm. “I’ve wanted to go for a long time.” Liam gently guided me toward the mirror. “Okay,” he said softly. “I know.” In the full-length mirror, we looked like a perfect couple, a match made in heaven. A sales associate stepped forward at the perfect moment. “You two make such a handsome couple.” “What do you think of this one? Do you like it?” he asked, leaning down slightly. I thought for a moment, chewing on my lip. “I don’t know… it doesn’t feel quite… breathtaking.” I made a small pinching gesture with my fingers. “It’s missing that little something.” Liam couldn’t help but chuckle, his eyes sparkling like starlight under the crystal chandelier. “Sir, Ma’am, are you happy with any of these gowns and suits?” the store manager asked, noticing our hesitation. She considered for a moment before speaking. “We actually have a new collection of gowns arriving from overseas in a few days. Would you be able to wait?” “I promise you, these are truly exquisite pieces. We have the designer’s sketches, and I can walk you through the concepts.” “Would that be convenient for you?” I looked at Liam questioningly, and he nodded. I smiled at the manager. “Yes, that would be great.”

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