Author: Momo Chan

My husband died suddenly. Then, his first love showed up at my door, pregnant and holding his will, ready to claim her inheritance. My daughter told me to stand up for myself, to fight the other woman to the bitter end. But my in-laws pulled me aside. “Just let her have it,” they said. “After all, she’s carrying our family’s bloodline. Our son did you wrong, we know, but the family line has to continue.” I nodded and agreed to their request. Ignoring my daughter’s protests, I packed our bags and moved us abroad. When my daughter raged at me for being a doormat, I remained silent. But when I received a call from a familiar number, a satisfied smile spread across my face… 1 The funeral was crowded. Beyond our friends and family, many of my husband Nathan’s colleagues and business partners had come to pay their respects. When they saw Lila, Nathan’s first love, arrive with a swollen belly and a will in her hand, their faces became a fascinating medley of shock, pity, and morbid curiosity. Many of them shot furtive glances my way but said nothing, seemingly waiting to see how I would react. It was clear they were all ready for a show. “Clara, I know Nathan and I have wronged you,” Lila began, her voice trembling for effect. “But… I’m having his child. I have to think about the baby’s future. I know this isn’t right, but this is the last gift Nathan left for me and our child. You can’t be so cruel as to take that away from us, can you?” “Oh, spare me!” my daughter, Chloe, exploded. “You shameless, homewrecking parasite! You snuck around with my father behind my mother’s back, and now you have the nerve to show up here, pregnant, demanding his money? I have never seen anyone as disgusting as you!” Her face was flushed with rage, the veins in her neck bulging. She looked like she wanted to tear Lila limb from limb. “Chloe! Where are your manners? I don’t recall your mother raising you to be such a shrew!” The sharp words came from my mother-in-law, Eleanor. She shot me a glare. “Is this how you raise your child?” “Grandma… she destroyed my parents’ relationship. She wrecked their marriage. And you not only refuse to help Mom, but you’re siding with an outsider to attack us? What are we to you?!” Chloe, usually so well-behaved, stood in front of me like a fierce mother bird protecting her nest. The sight moved me deeply, but also filled me with a pang of shame. Eleanor was momentarily stunned by Chloe’s outburst, then her face contorted with fury. “Insolence! Utter insolence! A little girl daring to lecture her elders? The adults in this family are still alive, so it’s not your place to speak!” She then turned her venom on me. “I always said having a daughter was useless!” My father-in-law, George, stepped forward. “This is a conversation for adults. Children should stay out of it. If you don’t learn to be quiet, don’t blame me for teaching you a lesson!” He finished with a hard stare at Chloe. His gaze then shifted from Lila to me. “Clara, I know you’ve been a part of this family for thirteen years. We’ve seen the kind of person you are, and we’ve always considered you one of us. I hope you can try to see things from our perspective.” Hearing his words, I asked calmly, “And what is that?” “Well…” George hesitated, then pressed on. “Lila told us… the baby is a boy. Our family has only had one son for generations. We want her to have this child. But now that Nathan is gone, it will be hard for her to raise him alone. We hope you won’t fight her for the inheritance.” Eleanor immediately chimed in. “Just let her have it. She’s carrying our family’s bloodline. Our son did you wrong, we know, but the family line has to continue.” My daughter spoke before I could. “So I’m not his child? Am I not his legacy? What am I in your eyes?” Her eyes, red-rimmed, were fixed on her grandparents, her voice trembling. I knew my in-laws never truly valued my daughter, but I never imagined they would say such things to her face. I realized then that all the affection they’d ever shown her had been a performance. In their hearts, a granddaughter meant nothing. Hearing Chloe’s question, Eleanor dropped the act. “I never said you weren’t his child. But… you’re a girl. How can a girl carry on the Thorne family name? After all the love your father showed you over the years, you won’t even do this one thing for him? You’re a disgrace!” George’s face was grim. “We are speaking to your mother. A child should not interrupt!” He looked back at me. “Clara, for the sake of the years we’ve been family, I hope you’ll understand.” I looked at them, my voice flat. “So, you knew about my husband and Lila all along?” My question hung in the air. Both of them froze, their faces a mask of awkwardness as they exchanged guilty glances. Seeing this, Chloe’s expression turned to one of pure disgust. “Grandma, Grandpa, I can’t believe I respected you. You were always lecturing me about honor and decency, but it turns out… you’re both just as shameless as she is!” “You wretched girl, what did you just say?! Are you tired of living?!” Eleanor shrieked and lunged for Chloe, but I pulled my daughter behind me. “Why would you hit her? Was she wrong?” I asked, my voice ice-cold. Eleanor glared at me, then at Chloe hiding behind me. She let out a cold snort. “Fine. I see how it is. My son is gone, so now you two think you can disrespect your elders, that I mean nothing to you?” She threw herself dramatically in front of Nathan’s memorial portrait. “Oh, my son! You left us too soon! Now your wife and daughter are ganging up on us poor old people! They won’t listen to a word we say! All we wanted was to ensure your legacy lives on through Lila’s child… why can’t they understand our simple wish?” The guests watched her histrionics with varying expressions. Some looked disgusted, others nodded in agreement, and a few, sensing high drama, pulled out their phones to record. Eleanor’s sobs were gut-wrenching, a truly pathetic performance. George took his cue and approached me, his voice heavy with false sincerity. “Clara, I know our family has wronged you, but… we truly want to continue the Thorne family line. And we need Nathan’s estate to raise the child. Please, agree to our request.” “Mom! Don’t listen to them!” Chloe squeezed my hand tightly, trying to give me strength. Seeing my daughter trying so hard to protect me, tears welled in my eyes. I reached out and stroked her hair. “It’s okay, sweetie. Let Mom handle this. I’ve already made my decision.” 2 At my words, Chloe nodded obediently. I looked at my in-laws, then at Lila. “It’s the company Nathan left behind that you want, isn’t it?” “Lila used to work there,” Eleanor said. “She knows how to run it. And let’s be honest, even if you and Nathan started it together, you quit after you got married. The company… it’s really my son’s personal property.” I stared at her. “You even know that? So you’ve known about their affair for a long time? You all conspired with Nathan to hide it from me? By the way, why haven’t you mentioned the other house Nathan owned? Oh, that’s right, it’s registered in your names. I suppose you had that all planned out, too?” Eleanor coughed, her face flushed with embarrassment, and said no more. Lila looked away guiltily and gestured to her lawyer. “You go talk to her.” The lawyer, though visibly uncomfortable, stepped forward. “Ms. Thorne, we have a document here. If you are willing to voluntarily relinquish your claim, you can sign this agreement, which states you will not pursue this matter any further.” I looked at them all and nodded. “Fine. If this is what you want, I agree.” “Mom!!!” Chloe stared at me in disbelief. The crowd of onlookers gasped in surprise. My in-laws’ faces lit up with joy. “Really?!” Eleanor chirped. “You can’t go back on your word!” Lila and her lawyer also looked astonished, but their surprise quickly turned to suspicion, as if they were waiting for the other shoe to drop. “What are your terms?” Lila asked. I nodded. “Of course, I have terms. From this day forward, I and the Thorne family are finished. My daughter as well. You will never contact us again.” I turned to Chloe, seeking her approval. “You’ll come live with me, right? Okay?” Chloe looked at me with a heart-wrenching mix of anger and disappointment. “Mom, of course I’ll live with you, but… but we can’t just let that homewrecker have Dad’s money! Please, don’t be so weak! Toughen up! I’d rather we starve together than let them get away with this! If we’re going down, we should take them with us!” Her words enraged Eleanor again. “You little brat, you say that one more time! I told you girls were useless! All they do is cause trouble for their own family!” Looking at my daughter, I saw a reflection of my younger self—kind, impulsive, unable to keep anything bottled up. I felt both proud and deeply sorry. “Chloe, please, just do this for me, okay? Your father stopped loving us a long time ago. He even planned his will to leave everything to his first love, without a thought for us… and your grandparents are the same. Why should we cling to the inheritance of a man like that?” Chloe’s eyes were red. “Mom, even if you think his money is tainted, we should donate it to charity before we let her have it! Please, don’t be so foolish!” “You insolent child!” George raised his cane to strike my daughter, but I stepped in front of her. CRACK! The cane hit my back with such force that I winced, a sharp, biting pain shooting through me. It was clear he had no intention of sparing his own granddaughter. “You…” George stared at me, shocked. “You’ve hit me, you’ve cursed me. All you want is Nathan’s company, right? I’m giving it to you, isn’t that enough?” I sobbed. “Nathan betrayed me, you all helped him hide it, and now that he’s dead, you’re ganging up on a grieving widow and her child… Can’t you just let us go in peace?” I turned to the uneasy lawyer. “I’ll sign the agreement.”

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The night before our engagement party, my fiancé came home not with my gown, but with a plain, simple dress. “Wear this instead,” he said. I took it and put it away. A moment later, I was scrolling through his childhood friend’s social media. She had posted a photo of herself in the very gown that had been replaced, along with a caption: “All I did was look at it once, and he gave it to me. Someone’s a little too in love with me~” “And tomorrow, he’s insisting on coming to my dog’s birthday party. Said anything unimportant can just be postponed.” Right on cue, a message from my fiancé popped up on my phone: “Something came up at work. We’ll have to postpone the engagement party.” I gripped my phone, my voice cold as I typed back a reply. But it wouldn’t be a postponement. It would be a cancellation. … As Benjamin was about to leave, I was in the middle of packing, carefully ironing each of my clothes before placing them in my suitcase. He didn’t notice what I was doing, just breezily informed me, “There’s a last-minute meeting at the office today. We’ll have to push the engagement party back a day. Be reasonable and don’t make this difficult for me.” I continued packing in silence, not offering a reply. Benjamin faltered, the rest of his explanation catching in his throat. He expected me to do what I always did: complain that he never considered my feelings when he got wrapped up in work, but then quietly iron his suit and see him to the door. I used to think that’s how it would always be. Until I saw that gown on his childhood friend, Maya’s, social media feed. The gown that was supposed to be my engagement gown. Yesterday, I had spent hours carefully pressing it, arranging it on a mannequin, my heart filled with dreams of wearing it at our party. But I stepped out for a bit, and when I returned, the gown was gone. A flicker of hope ignited within me. The gown we had rented wasn’t my absolute favorite, just the most cost-effective. Benjamin knew which one I truly loved. I thought he had impulsively decided to surprise me. I cooked a feast, even opened a bottle of red wine, and waited for him. But all he brought back was a plain, simple dress. “Wear this instead.” When I asked him why, he just frowned with a hint of impatience. “I like this one better. Besides, that other gown is too flashy. It doesn’t suit your style. You look better in this.” But now, that gown, the one deemed too flashy for me, was shimmering beautifully on Maya. And the simple dress in my hands was just like his perception of me. Plain. Ordinary. Unremarkable. No matter how well I presented myself, I could never compete with a diamond-studded, exquisitely tailored masterpiece. So this was our respective value in his heart. Maya’s post had more: “All I did was look at it once, and he gave it to me. Someone’s a little too in love with me~ ;)” “And tomorrow, he’s insisting on coming to my dog’s birthday party. Said anything unimportant can just be postponed.” A knot of fury and disbelief tightened in my chest. I refused to believe Benjamin could belittle our relationship, belittle me, so completely. But reality delivered a sharp, stinging slap. Benjamin walked over to me and finally registered what I was doing. He spoke, not with concern, but with a note of reprimand. “Why are you only ironing your own clothes? What am I supposed to wear?” “Never mind, I’ll just grab something. Just remember to do mine first next time.” As he reached the door, he finally took in the full scene. “What are you doing, packing a suitcase? Are you really this mad just because I have to work late?” I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I pulled out my phone and showed him the picture of Maya in the gown. “Maya, she…” But he cut me off the second he heard her name, his voice laced with annoyance. He didn’t even spare the photo a glance as he turned to leave. “I’m really just going to work. Why are you bringing Maya into this? Do you have to make a scene?” “After all these years, can’t you learn to be even half as understanding as she is?” The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. Just like our seven-year relationship, it ended abruptly. I stopped the recording on my phone. Then, I notified both of our families. I created a group chat and sent them the screenshot of Maya’s post and the audio of Benjamin’s parting words. I laid out the entire story, clear and concise. Benjamin had wronged me. We were done. The engagement was off. I wouldn’t suffer in silence. After I finished packing, my phone rang. It was my university professor. “Cynthia, are you really sure about studying abroad?” he asked. “I highly recommend the program, but you’ve turned it down so many times for Benjamin. I’m a little worried.” I managed a small laugh. “Don’t worry, professor. This time, I’ve made up my mind.” I’m a psychology major, and the university was offering a rare opportunity for an international research internship. My professor had urged me to apply several times, seeing it as a golden chance to advance my skills. I desperately wanted to go. It meant exposure to cutting-edge research and a much broader career path. The only thing holding me back was Benjamin. Benjamin suffered from severe separation anxiety. His parents were busy entrepreneurs who had shuttled him between relatives since he was a child. He was passed around like a parcel, from one resentful household to another. The experience had left deep psychological scars, making it nearly impossible for him to form stable relationships. By the time he transferred to my high school, it was his forty-second school. The loneliest time for him was always free period during gym class. Everyone else would be in pairs or groups, playing games or chatting. Benjamin would just sit in the shadows, watching them with envy. Seeing his guarded, longing eyes and remembering the rumors about his past, I felt a pang of kinship. His desolate expression mirrored a part of my own history. My heart softened. I walked over to him. “I’m stuck on a problem,” I said, steering him toward the classroom. “I hear you’re really smart. Could you help me with it?” He looked startled, but quickly got up and followed. From then on, we spent every gym class in the classroom, studying together. Gradually, the tension in his face eased, replaced by smiles. When it was time to reassign seats, I requested to be his desk partner. I started using the psychology I was teaching myself to help him. Our classmates whispered around us. “The drama queen and the ice princess are sitting together!” “One has no friends, the other wants no friends. They’re a perfect match.” One day, as I walked into class, a boy from the back row let out a long wolf-whistle. “Hey, Ice Princess, why are you so nice to him? Is he your boyfriend, or your lab rat?” “They say people who study psychology are messed up themselves. So, what’s your damage?” Before I could react, Benjamin launched himself from behind me. He, who had always tried so hard to get along with everyone, was in his first-ever fight. He beat those boys bloody, and ended up hospitalized for a month himself. We were inseparable after that. I remember the first time I mentioned the internship abroad. He couldn’t sleep for days. I’d wake up in the middle of the night to find him just watching me, his eyes bloodshot. “Cynthia, are you leaving me too? Will I be all alone again?” My resolve melted. I never brought it up again. But this time, I was the one being left behind. My phone buzzed. A message from my professor: The heart finds its vastness in distant horizons; the steps find their newness with the passing of time. Cynthia, everything is a part of growth. I’ve submitted your application. Prepare well. I believe in you. I smiled and replied with a simple, “Okay.” I had just stepped out of the apartment when Benjamin’s call came through. He was furious. “Cynthia! What the hell did you just tell everyone?” “Do you have any idea they’re all attacking Maya now? You need to go and clear this up right now and then publicly apologize to her!” My voice was ice. “Apologize for what? The fact that you two are having an affair isn’t exactly a secret, is it? You postponed our engagement to go to her dog’s birthday party and gave her my gown to wear.” “Even the dumbest asshole in a bad novel isn’t as stupid as you. When your mother gave birth, did she throw you out and raise the placenta instead?” “Cynthia!” Benjamin roared, his anger palpable. “Don’t you go too far! Maya just really liked the gown and wanted to try it on, that’s all.” “I never realized you were so petty. Are you really going to be jealous of a young girl?” Maya’s tearful sobs echoed through the phone. “It’s okay, Benjamin. Didn’t Cynthia have… psychological problems before? I should be more understanding. It’s all my fault. Don’t get upset with a… a mentally ill person.” My blood ran cold. It felt as if an invisible hand had clenched around my heart, squeezing so tightly I could barely breathe. It was my deepest, darkest secret. I felt he was the kindest person in the world. But as I grew older and started elementary school, I began to understand what his actions truly meant. So the next time he tried to get into my bed, I fought back with a knife. He was severely injured. In the end, it was ruled self-defense, and I was acquitted. But the memory of that old man’s hideous face was seared into my mind. For more than a decade afterward, the sight of any stranger would send my heart racing. I craved warmth but couldn’t escape that vicious cycle, and my mental state deteriorated. That’s why, when I saw the isolated, helpless Benjamin, I wanted to help him. But I never imagined that my most painful secret had become gossip he used to entertain his little friend. Panic seized me again. My first instinct was to run, to escape. The voice on the other end of the line faltered. I heard Benjamin’s panicked, scolding tone. “Why did you say that? I told you never to bring that up!” “Cynthia, she didn’t mean it like that…” I didn’t wait for him to finish. My hands were stiff as I hung up the phone. I grabbed my luggage and immediately checked into a hotel. I didn’t want to see either of them again. But the next morning, I found Benjamin waiting for me downstairs. He was holding a gift box, standing in the early autumn mist, looking at me with a cautious expression. “Cynthia, are you still mad?” “Maya’s been spoiled since she was a kid. She’s always been blunt, but she doesn’t have a bad bone in her body. Don’t hold it against her. If it bothers you, I’ll keep my distance from her from now on.” I frowned. “How did you know where I was?” “My family owns this hotel. I got a notification the moment you checked in.” Benjamin looked away, a guilty expression on his face, and pushed the gift box into my hands. “I rented a new gown for you. Don’t worry, it’s not the old one. It’s the style you like the most. Try it on, and if it fits, we can have the engagement party tomorrow, okay?” I laughed. So he was capable of remembering my favorite style. So he was capable of doing more than just fobbing me off with a plain dress. He had done it before simply because he thought I wasn’t worthy. Seeing my smile, Benjamin assumed everything was fine. He cheerfully pulled out a container of breakfast from his coat and handed it to me as if bestowing a great favor. “Cynthia, I made this myself. It used to be your favorite, remember? Eat up and stop making a fuss.” For a moment, I was transported back in time.

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The day my wife gave birth, I saw my own cousin swap our babies in the hospital nursery. I pretended I didn’t see a thing. I brought his son home and raised him as my own. Eighteen years later, the boy I raised was accepted into a top-tier university. My biological son, however, had been systematically abused by my cousin for years, leaving him permanently disabled. At the university acceptance party, my cousin showed up with my crippled son and a paternity test. “There was a mix-up at the hospital all those years ago,” he announced. “It’s time to switch them back.” I gave him a knowing, cryptic smile. “Of course.” “Evan, I brought some of that raw honey from back home. For you and Leo.” My cousin, Mark, knocked on my door, just as he always did. Ever since I’d brought his son home, he was always finding excuses to visit. Sometimes it was to “discuss parenting techniques.” Other times it was so “the boys could play together and keep each other company.” He’d even shown up in the middle of the night, claiming he’d had a nightmare that something had happened to Leo and he just had to check. It got to the point where my wife, Sarah, would complain that Mark came over more often than he clocked in at work. To make things easier, he even rented an apartment in my complex. “Family should stick together,” he’d said. “Don’t want to let the relationship fade.” I knew the real reason. He wanted to keep a close eye on his son, Leo. I never called him out on it. I just opened the door like I always did. He was dressed in an expensive, well-tailored suit, carrying a few jars of honey. Trailing behind him was a sallow, scrawny boy with a bruised face. That was my son. Mark had named him Damien. The moment he stepped inside, Mark set down the honey and went straight for Leo. “Leo, your birthday’s tomorrow! What do you want? Uncle Mark will get it for you!” He gently stroked Leo’s head, his affection overflowing. Leo flashed a sweet smile. “Anything from you is a great gift, Uncle!” Mark’s grin widened. “See? Our Leo is so smart and sweet. Not like that useless brat of mine. Dumb as a rock.” He shot a venomous glare at my son by the door, then marched over, grabbed him by the ear, and dragged him inside. “Get in here, you idiot! What are you, a guard dog? Just standing there?” “I don’t know who you take after, you worthless piece of trash. Just looking at you makes me sick!” Then, right in front of me, Mark kicked my son so hard he stumbled and fell. His head slammed against the coffee table, splitting his forehead open. Blood began to pour down his face. Leo, standing nearby, gasped in shock. But my son didn’t cry. He didn’t make a sound. He just quickly got to his feet, wiped the blood from his brow as if it were routine, and, wincing in pain, said meekly to Mark, “I’m sorry, Dad. I was wrong.” Apologizing after a beating was a daily ritual for him, one I had witnessed countless times in my own home. Sarah rushed to get the first-aid kit. As she staunched the bleeding, she shot Mark a disapproving look. “Mark, how can you be so rough with your own child? He’s your flesh and blood! Don’t you feel any pity?” “He was born worthless,” Mark said with a shrug. “He’s got the face of a corpse. Can’t even compare to Leo. I’m doing him a favor by not killing him.” He didn’t spare my son another glance, turning back to Leo with a beaming smile. “Leo, I ordered your favorite superhero cake. I’ll bring it over tomorrow for your birthday!” “Thank you, Uncle,” Leo replied politely. He was used to Mark’s blatant favoritism. Seeing this, my son mustered his courage and spoke up, his voice barely a whisper. “Dad, tomorrow is my birthday too. Could I… could I have a new pair of shoes?” My eyes fell to his feet. He was wearing a pair of dirty, torn sandals, the soles worn completely flat. They were a pair Leo had thrown out last year. Mark had picked them up, declaring that Damien deserved nothing more than Leo’s cast-offs. He had worn them for a full year, even now, in the dead of winter, his feet covered in chilblains. “You little bastard, you deserve to wear rags! A birthday? You think you’re worthy of a birthday?!” Mark launched into another vicious beating. The sounds of his curses and my son’s cries filled the room. I watched, my face a cold, emotionless mask. I said nothing. Sarah tried to intervene, and even Leo pleaded with his uncle to stop. Eventually, perhaps worried about frightening Leo further, Mark dragged my son out of the house. The next day was Leo’s birthday. Mark arrived early, gifts and cake in hand. Sarah noticed he was alone. “Where’s Damien?” she asked. “It’s his birthday too. Why isn’t he here?” Mark’s reply was casual, dismissive. “Oh, him? I broke his leg when we got home yesterday. He’s still unconscious.” He said it so lightly, a proud smirk even playing on his lips, as if crippling my son was a badge of honor. Ignoring Sarah’s horrified stare, he pushed his way inside, placing the gifts and cake in front of Leo with a flourish. “Happy birthday, my precious Leo! Uncle Mark won’t let anything ruin your special day!” As Leo took a gift, a small cut on the back of his hand became visible. Mark’s face instantly darkened. He rounded on me. “Evan, what is this? How did you let Leo get hurt?!” “Kids get bumps and bruises,” I replied, my voice flat. “Your son is covered in them every day.” Mark exploded. “How can you compare that worthless piece of—” He cut himself off, realizing he’d gone too far. He took a deep breath, composing himself. “What I mean is, Leo has been raised in comfort. He’s more precious than that waste of space I have at home. You need to be more careful with him!” Sarah frowned, her voice filled with reproach. “You have some nerve. If you hadn’t been beating your own son in our living room yesterday, leaving blood everywhere, Leo wouldn’t have tried to clean it up and hurt himself in the first place.” Mark turned to Leo for confirmation. “Leo, is that true?” Leo nodded seriously. “Yes. I wanted to help Mom and Dad.” Mark’s voice softened with pity. “Sometimes you’re too good, Leo. Let your dad handle the chores. Your only job in this house is to be happy, you understand?” He then busied himself with Leo’s party, cooking, decorating, doing everything himself. After they had eaten, he asked eagerly, “Leo, tell Uncle, what’s your birthday wish? I’ll make it come true.” Leo didn’t hesitate. “I want to get into a top university!” Mark beamed, patting his head. “That, I can’t help you with. But you’re smart enough to get in on your own. And when you do, I’ll have a surprise for you that you’ll never forget.” I saw the adoration in Mark’s eyes and allowed myself the faintest of smiles. A surprise he’ll never forget? My dear cousin. I have one for you, too. Every year, Mark was more enthusiastic about Leo’s birthday than Sarah or I were. As for my son, after his leg was broken, I never saw him again. Whenever Sarah asked, Mark would dismiss her with a wave of his hand. “Don’t talk to me about that unlucky animal. Just thinking about him makes me sick.” Because of Mark’s deliberate avoidance, it wasn’t until Leo was accepted into a prestigious university that I saw my son again. At the celebratory banquet I was hosting for Leo, Mark appeared, my son limping beside him. He pulled out a paternity test and, in front of all our friends and relatives, presented it to me. “Evan, Damien’s been having some health issues lately. I took him to the doctor and found out… he’s not my son. There was a mix-up at the hospital. Damien is your son, and Leo… Leo is mine.” “We’ve been separated for so long. It’s time for me to be reunited with my real son. We have to switch them back.” He even managed to squeeze out a few tears, his gaze fixed on Leo with a mixture of fatherly love and feigned guilt, as if he were the victim who had endured years of unimaginable suffering. The room erupted in gasps and whispers. “They worked so hard to raise such a brilliant student, and now they have to just give him up?” “Everyone knows how much Evan has done for Leo. He’s the reason Leo got into such a good school. You can’t just erase eighteen years of love and effort!” “Who could possibly bear it?” One was a smart, well-behaved, promising university student. The other was a disheveled, emaciated boy with a permanent limp. Anyone would choose the former. But amidst the murmurs, I smiled a cryptic smile. “Of course. Since there was a mistake, it’s only right to correct it.” My words stunned the room. Mark’s eyes widened in disbelief, shocked that I had agreed so readily. Even Sarah stared at me as if I’d lost my mind. “Evan, are you crazy? You’re just going to take his word for it, based on a piece of paper that could be fake, and give Leo away?” My mother-in-law chimed in, her voice frantic. “He’s right, Evan! This is a huge decision. How can you make it without investigating properly?” I met their protests with a firm, unwavering voice. “Leo is his son. I saw them switch the babies myself.” The room fell into a horrified silence. Sarah stamped her foot in desperation. “That’s impossible! The day you took me to the hospital, we were in a car accident. The windshield shattered, and you were impaled, but you ignored your own injuries and carried me to the hospital. The doctors said your organs were severely damaged, that you’d lost too much blood. They said if you had carried me for two more minutes, you would have died.” “But you just smiled and said that as long as the baby and I were safe, nothing else mattered. You said we were more important than your own life.”

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I am a master of traditional medicine, a healer so revered that Aaron Croft, the most eligible bachelor in the country, knelt at my door, begging for my help. Yet his childhood sweetheart called me a gold digger. She slapped me, accused me of carrying another man’s child, and had her friends pelt my stomach with stones. As I lay bleeding, she poked my head, her laughter deceptively innocent. “You just had to go after my Aaron. Who else was I supposed to teach a lesson to?” But later, it was she who knelt before me, begging for her life. 1 My family’s healing arts are an ancient lineage, and I am known as its greatest living master. The rich and powerful offer me fortunes for my services—power, status, wealth, all of it is mine for the taking if I so choose. Aaron Croft, the man they call the nation’s most desirable husband, made a pilgrimage to my mountain home, kneeling every few steps of the way, to plead with me to save his grandfather. His devotion moved me. I agreed, but on two conditions. First, my involvement was to be kept a complete secret. Second, I would receive fifty percent of the Croft family’s corporate shares. The terms were steep, but Aaron accepted without hesitation. He knew that if his grandfather died, the vast Croft empire would be torn apart by vultures. With my help, the old man could live for a few more years, and my name alone would be enough to deter those circling sharks. This way, Aaron could remain the prince of his dynasty, instead of a beggar on the street. On the journey down the mountain, Aaron was the picture of deference, bowing and scraping, all traces of his usual arrogance gone. He prepared the family’s finest riverside villa for me, dismissed all the staff, and posted a discreet security detail at the outermost perimeter. Aside from close family visiting his grandfather, no one else was to be admitted. I was satisfied with the arrangements. After dismissing him, I began the long, delicate process of treating his grandfather, fighting to keep the old man’s life tethered to this world. Aaron visited daily. As his grandfather’s health improved, the long-absent smile returned to Aaron’s face, and his reverence for me deepened. I never expected that, despite his meticulous precautions, the villa would be breached. And by a pack of shrill, vulgar women. They started their tirade at the gate, their voices shattering the morning calm. “Where did this little country tramp come from, trying to seduce my Aaron?” “Bella, darling, everyone in this city knows you’re Aaron’s girl, the future Mrs. Croft! This bitch is deliberately provoking you by moving in on your man!” “Exactly! You and Aaron are meant to be. Some brainless slut tries to steal him, you have to put her in her place.” I was about to have security remove them when— CRACK. A sharp, stinging slap landed on my cheek. “You little whore. We hadn’t even come in, and you dare to show your face!” 2 The blow left me stunned, my head ringing. When my vision cleared, a beautiful young woman in a designer dress was sneering at me. “Look at you, dressed like some hayseed. A creature like you thinks you can compete with me?” “So young and already a conniving little witch, playing the innocent to trap a rich man. It’s sluts like you who give women a bad name…” Their vicious insults rained down on me. Whore. Gold digger. It finally dawned on me that they were talking about… me. Gold digger? If I wanted money, I wouldn’t need to “dig” for it. It was the first time in my life I had ever been struck, ever been verbally assaulted. Fury rose in me. “Shut your filthy mouths,” I shot back. “I am here at Aaron’s…” Before I could finish, the woman they called Bella, the center of their little universe, kicked me hard in the stomach. “Insolent! Who do you think you are? You dare to even speak his name?” I staggered back, the pain doubling me over as I clutched my abdomen. One of the others saw my posture. “She’s protecting her stomach like that… could she be…” Bella’s eyes narrowed, her gaze fixed on my belly. She delivered another vicious kick. The pain was blinding. Though I lived in seclusion, I knew of the powerful Croft family, and I had heard the name Bella Vance. She was the city’s reigning socialite, Aaron’s childhood friend. She had parlayed her beauty and connections into a film career, becoming a top star despite a complete lack of talent, thanks to the vast sums of money the Croft and Vance families poured into her projects. She was infamous for her arrogance, once publicly declaring that all other actresses were trash, there only to make her look better by comparison. After all, she had a pretty face and Aaron Croft doting on her. Any woman who was even rumored to be close to Aaron would mysteriously disappear from the social scene. I had always thought the stories were exaggerated. The age of empresses was long over; who could possibly be so tyrannical? But looking at Bella now, kicking me, slandering me, her eyes filled with a murderous rage, I realized the rumors had been far too conservative. I clutched my stomach, my brow furrowed in pain. “I suggest you find out who I am before you continue. This is not your playground.” Bella threw her head back and laughed. “I’m going to marry Aaron. The Croft estate is as good as mine! Why can’t I do as I please here?” She sneered. “You think you can hide away in here, secretly pregnant, and I can’t touch you?” Her lackeys chimed in. “These women today are so devious.” “They’re all trying to get a ring by getting pregnant first. You can’t be too careful.” “Imagine, this little bastard gets born, she creates a media scandal, uses it to trash your reputation… even if she doesn’t marry into the family, she’ll be set for life!” Their minds, poisoned by jealousy, were truly fertile with delusion. In a few short sentences, they had painted me as a villain more wicked than any in the tabloids. My chest heaved with anger. “Get out!” I roared. Bella’s eyes narrowed into a sly smile. “What’s wrong? Did we hit a nerve? Feeling guilty and trying to chase us away? You think you have the right?” She raised a hand, admiring her freshly manicured nails. “Ladies,” she said, her voice sweet as poison, “let’s teach this animal some manners.” At her command, her friends exchanged knowing glances and swarmed me. I tried to run, but one of them grabbed me by the hair. It was eight against one. I was on the ground in seconds. I curled into a ball, trying to protect my head as the blows rained down. “Stop!” I yelled through the pain. “I am Dr. Reed, the healer who is treating Mr. Croft!” 3 The name “Dr. Reed” carried as much weight in this city as Aaron’s own. The first time I had come down from the mountain with my grandmother, I had saved a diamond tycoon who had been declared brain-dead. My words gave them pause. The beating stopped. Bella’s smile froze. She stared at me. “You… you said you’re Dr. Reed?” “You’d better call Aaron and ask him,” I said, my body aching, but my voice firm. “Ask him if I am the healer he knelt and begged to come down from the mountain, or the gold digger you think is trying to steal your man.” I thought that would be the end of it. “Oh, the famous Dr. Reed! I’m so scared!” Bella clutched her chest in mock terror, then burst out laughing. When her laughter died, she stomped on my hand, grinding her heel into my fingers. Her face was a mask of rage. “You’ll even make up a lie like that to protect the bastard in your belly. If my own grandfather hadn’t just been saved by Dr. Reed, if he hadn’t told me that she was a gray-haired old woman, I might have almost believed you. It seems you’re not just stupid enough to go after my man, you’re also shameless enough to use a respected healer’s name to run your scams.” Her friends, their fears allayed, descended on me again. I could see the jealousy had blinded Bella. “Is that so? Then you had better call your elders and ask them what I look like!” The word “elders” seemed to trigger her. “You want me to call them so you can tattle on me? Don’t worry. After I’m done with you, I’ll give them a full report on the kind of slut you are. You like seducing men? Let’s see how everyone likes the sight of you naked.” They were clearly practiced at this. At Bella’s word, they rushed forward. I screamed for them to call and verify my identity, but they wouldn’t listen. Their assault only intensified. My cries for help were useless. In the struggle, my case of silver needles fell from my clothes. Bella stopped filming and picked it up. “A con artist who does her homework,” she sneered. “You even have a set of needles, just like the real Dr. Reed. You like playing doctor? Fine. I’ll give you a treatment.” With a vicious smile, she pulled out a needle and plunged it deep into my fingernail. I screamed, a wave of pure panic washing over me. These hands, these hands that healed the sick and saved the dying, could not be destroyed by this… this imbecile. “If you won’t call, then let me!” I roared. But Bella ignored me. She ordered her friends to do the same. One by one, they drove the needles into my fingers. The pain was excruciating. My screams echoed through the villa, but they did not stop. In just five minutes, my clothes were in tatters, my hands a bloody, mangled mess. Bella looked at the video on her phone with satisfaction. “This is what happens when you seduce other women’s men. If you bitches would just learn your place, there would be more happy couples in the world.” The others nodded and laughed, a chorus of cruel delight. My hands trembled with rage. I bit my lip until it bled. My eyes were crimson. “You will all regret this!” I seared their ugly, gloating faces into my memory. Not a single one of them would escape. I would repay them for this, ten times over. Bella strolled over, grabbed me by the hair, and twisted my neck at an unnatural angle. “The word ‘regret’ is not in my vocabulary,” she hissed into my eyes. “Threatening me? That deserves another punishment.” 4 At Bella’s command, they dragged me out of the villa. My body left a trail of blood on the cobblestone path. They threw me into a rose garden, my near-naked body scratched and torn by the thorns. As I was about to pass out from the pain, they doused me with a bucket of filthy water. Bella continued to film, laughing. I tried to cover myself. “Tsk, tsk,” she clucked. “You have a sense of shame? A gold digger, pretending to be a pure, innocent maiden? If you’re not afraid to seduce a man, why are you afraid of being seen?” She ordered them to press the rose thorns deeper into my skin. “You like being a thorny rose to lure men? I’ll help you with that.” I was bleeding, in agony. I coughed up a mouthful of blood.

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The moment I caught my husband with a student again was the final straw. I tore the house apart in a blind rage. His mother said I was incompetent, unable to keep my own man in line. His sister said I deserved it. I demanded a divorce. But Mark threatened me with the children, and for their sake, I chose to endure it. I didn’t realize that one moment of endurance would stretch into a lifetime of misery. Mark was a philanderer his entire life, and I was his servant. In the end, he died peacefully in his sleep, a ripe old age. And me? After a lifetime of thankless labor, I was cast aside by my own children, left to die of sickness in a rented room. But God, in His mercy, gave me a second chance. I’ve woken up just before the day I first asked for that divorce. 1 I open my eyes to the spittle-flecked face of my mother-in-law, a woman who’s been dead for twenty years. “Chloe! You dare wreck my house? Who do you think you are?” she shrieks. “He was just talking to a student, and you act like a rabid dog. You have no class, no upbringing!” “It’s your own fault you can’t control your husband, yet you blame him. You deserve this,” she continues, her voice dripping with venom. “Go on, get a divorce if you have the guts! My son is a university professor. You’re just a housewife. Let’s see what man would want you, a piece of used goods.” My sister-in-law, Megan, chimes in, her face alight with malicious glee. “Don’t worry, Mom. She’d never dare leave him.” It was Megan who had encouraged her mother to slap me just moments before. “Still breaking things, are you? I’ll beat the defiance out of you!” my father-in-law, slumped in his wheelchair, slurs, his mouth twisted from the stroke. He’s telling Mark to hit me. My cheek is already swelling as I turn my head. Mark is sitting on the sofa, engrossed in the television. “Your mother wants me to divorce you,” I say, my voice flat. “Do you agree?” He doesn’t even look up. “I don’t care. If you want a divorce, fine.” “Good,” I say. “I agree. We’ll go to the courthouse tomorrow.” Mark scoffs. “A divorce is fine. But don’t even think about taking the children. And there are no joint savings. You won’t get a single penny.” There it is. The old threat. I, Chloe, used to be a fiery woman. The first time he cheated, I demanded a divorce without hesitation. But Mark always knew how to play me. He knew the children were my weakness. The children! My mother-in-law starts to say something, but Megan pulls her back. They all know. The moment the kids are mentioned, I fold. I’ll endure anything. But not anymore. I don’t care about the children anymore. God has been good to me, giving me this second life. This time, I will not sacrifice myself for anyone. Just like before, I say nothing more. I get up and walk back to my room. “See, Mom? I told you. She doesn’t have the guts.” I ignore Megan’s taunts, a cold smile playing on my lips as I start to move my things. My “room” isn’t really a room, but a tiny, cramped alcove partitioned off from my father-in-law’s bedroom. After his stroke, he needed constant care. The original plan was for me to look after him during the day and for my mother-in-law to take the night shift, giving me a chance to rest. But she claimed to be a light sleeper, that any little noise would keep her awake. She insisted I move into the alcove to be closer to him. The thought of it makes me want to laugh with rage. Mark gets the master bedroom all to himself, sleeping soundly every single night. Well, I’ve decided. Whoever’s father he is can be the one to take care of him. My mother-in-law loves to gossip to the neighbors about how unfilial I am? Fine. I’ll be unfilial. Let her precious son Mark be the dutiful one for a change. I quickly pack up my bedding and march straight into the master bedroom. Mark follows me in, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing, moving in here? What about Dad? What if he needs to use the bathroom at night, or needs water, or needs to be turned over?” 2 I start tossing Mark’s clothes onto the floor. “We’re getting a divorce. Your father is no longer my father. He’s your problem now.” “What the hell is wrong with you? Are you done with this tantrum or not?” I laugh. “A tantrum? What if I’m not done?” He calls it a tantrum. I used to believe him. Arguing with him was a tantrum. Smashing things in a hysterical fit was a tantrum. Going on a hunger strike was a tantrum. But I see it clearly now. Hurting myself isn’t a tantrum. Hurting them is. Look at him. All I did was move out of that miserable little alcove, and he’s already following me, desperate to talk. On a normal day, he barely speaks three sentences to me. So, this is how you make them uncomfortable. Good to know. Mark’s face is a dark cloud as he storms out of the room. I don’t care what they’re plotting out there. I change the sheets on the bed and then head into the bathroom for a long, hot shower. Usually, this would be the time I’d rush to pick up the kids from school. Then I’d have to cook dinner, clean up after everyone, help the kids with their homework, and then bathe them. After all that, it would be time to bathe my father-in-law and give him his medicine. Only when he was finally asleep would I get a moment to myself. I was nothing but a beast of burden in this house. After my shower, I start taking stock of my savings. I have a two-year degree and had only worked for a few years before getting married. After the wedding, Mark’s salary went directly to his mother. I had to submit a weekly report just to get grocery money. If I needed anything for myself, I had to ask my mother-in-law for permission. Mark would never give me money directly. But I wasn’t entirely without an income. My English is excellent, and I took on occasional freelance translation jobs, earning a few hundred dollars each time. Right now, I have just over ten thousand dollars saved. It’s not much, but it’s enough to tide me over until I find a job after the divorce. And I don’t have to worry about the house. This house was left to me by my parents. It’s large and spacious. It’s a pre-marital asset; Mark can’t touch it. The moment we got married, he moved his parents in. His sister Megan lived with us too, until she got married. I realize it now. Mark probably only married me for this house. They were a family of parasites, planning to bleed me dry from the very start. This time, I will not compromise. I will kick every single one of them out. Just then, my mother-in-law starts pounding on the door. “Chloe, what are you doing hiding in there? The kids will be out of school soon, go get them! And you haven’t cleaned up the living room, you lazy bum.” I swing the door open. “They don’t like it when I pick them up. Let Mark go.” She shrieks. “How could Mark do something like that?” “Why can’t he? They’re his children too.” “Fine! If you won’t go, then nobody will!” It’s another one of her classic moves. In the past, seeing that no one else would do it, I’d get angry but eventually give in, unable to bear the thought of the children waiting alone. I always ended up doing it myself. This time, I’m not playing her game. A moment later, I hear the front door slam. 3 She’s gone. She won’t be back until just before dinner. I open the bedroom door. The living room is empty except for the shattered remains of my outburst and my father-in-law in his wheelchair. I pretend not to see him. I walk into the study, power on the computer, and start looking for a job. My English skills are top-notch. I studied international trade in college and have always loved the language, so I never let it get rusty. I polish my resume and send it out to over a hundred companies. Once that’s done, I go straight back to the bedroom, lie down, and go to sleep. I’m so tired. I don’t want to think. I don’t want to care about anything. “Where’s dinner? Why hasn’t anyone cooked?” “Are you dead? You’re home all day and you don’t cook? You don’t clean up the floor?” “Mark, look at this woman you married! Lazy and useless! She’s just lying in bed instead of making dinner. Does she have a death wish? Is this a rebellion?” My mother-in-law’s screeching voice wakes me. I pull the comforter over my head in annoyance. “Get up.” Mark is in the room. My anger flares. I sit bolt upright. “Are you insane? Can’t you see I’m sleeping?” “Sleep, sleep, sleep! That’s all you do!” he seethes. “It’s dinnertime. Why didn’t you cook?” “I’m not eating.” “I’m not asking if you’re eating. Mom told you to cook. Why didn’t you?” I feign surprise. “Are you deaf or just stupid? I said I’m not eating. Whoever is hungry can cook for themselves.” “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? What did my mom ever do to you to deserve this drama? Chloe, don’t push it!” “I am pushing it. What are you going to do about it? Divorce me? Then get the hell out! Go find your precious Lily! Let her come and wait on your whole family, hand and foot.” Mark takes a few deep breaths. “Fine. You don’t cook, the kids can starve too.” I roll my eyes. He always pulls this card. So unoriginal. As we’re arguing, the children come home. Sophie and Leo are nine-year-old twins. The moment he walks in, Leo says, “Mom, why are you fighting with Dad again? Can’t you just be quiet for once?” Sophie nods in agreement. “Yeah, Mom, you’re being really loud. And you didn’t even pick me and Leo up from school today.” Mark’s face is grim. “Look at the state of your mother. Don’t you ever turn out like her. A classless shrew with no manners.” I almost choke on my own rage. I look at the two children I gave birth to, my eyes cold. Genetics are a powerful thing. Leo and Sophie have perfectly inherited the selfish streak of the Lee family. All they ever see is me, shouting and screaming. And every single time, they take Mark’s side. In my last life, when I was on my deathbed, their first thought was how to get rid of me, not how to get me to a doctor. I finally see it clearly. A husband like this? Children like these? I’d rather have none at all. I force a smile. “Alright, alright. I won’t fight with your dad anymore. Now, hurry up and take him out of here. I have a headache today. You two don’t bother me either.” The two little ones exchange a confused look, wondering why I’ve suddenly given in. Mark glares at me. “The kids are home. What are you still doing in bed? I told you to make dinner.” I completely ignore him. He raises his voice. “Chloe, did you hear me?!” He continues to shout when I don’t respond. “Are you deaf? I told you to go and cook! How long are you going to keep this up? I already told you I was just having a normal chat with a student. Why are you being so controlling? What will people think of me?” I sit up and gesture for the children to come closer. When Sophie and Leo are beside me, I say, “See? I’m not arguing now. It’s your father who’s yelling. Can you two please make him be quiet? He’s supposed to be a professor, but he has no self-control. Don’t be like him when you grow up. He’s acting like a lunatic.” The twins look up at Mark. “Dad, please stop fighting.” My mother-in-law bursts into the room, shoving the children aside. “What do you two know? Your father is just disciplining his wife.” Sophie, pushed off balance, falls to the floor and starts wailing. My mother-in-law shoots me a look from her beady, triangular eyes. “What are you crying for, you useless girl? All you do is cry. Did someone in this house die?” If this were the past, I would have rushed over, scooped Sophie into my arms, and started a screaming match with her mother. But not now. I’m not that stupid anymore. In the past, it only took a few words from my mother-in-law to win them over, making them forget everything. They’d even tell me to be more forgiving. Now, without my protection, let’s see if they still remember how “good” their grandmother is. Mark frowns at his mother. “That’s enough, Mom. Just go and make dinner.” Her eyes widen. “Me? What’s she doing then?” Mark sighs, exasperated. “She’s not feeling well today. You can cook this once.” I watch my mother-in-law with a cold smile. See? If your heart is hard enough, anything is possible. After she leaves, Mark leads the children out of the room. I call after him, “Don’t forget the courthouse tomorrow. To sign the papers.” Mark whips his head around. “Fine. Let’s go. Just don’t you regret it.” That night, I do nothing. My mother-in-law clatters and bangs around the kitchen, cursing under her breath as she cooks. She curses me, and she curses the children. I don’t help with their homework either. Mark has no choice but to do it himself. I can hear his roars of frustration from my room. It’s almost funny. When I used to help them, everyone said I had a bad temper and was a poor teacher. Now that it’s Mark’s turn, his mother doesn’t dare say a word. After what feels like an eternity, the kids are finally bathed. Then, my father-in-law starts banging his bamboo cane on the floor. It’s a special tool my mother-in-law made for him. Whenever he needs something, he bangs it, and I’m expected to come running. Tonight, of course, I’m not going anywhere. “Chloe, hurry up! Your father soiled himself! Get in here and clean him up!” “Did you hear me? Are you dead in there?!” My mother-in-law is pounding on my door so hard the frame is shaking. I walk out and state calmly, “Mark and I are getting a divorce. I have no obligation to take care of him. Mark is the dutiful son. Go find him.” “You black-hearted witch! It was the worst day of Mark’s life when he married you!” I retort coolly, “Regret it? Good. Then hurry up with the divorce. There are plenty of women lining up to marry your son.” It feels so good. Unwilling to make Mark do it, my mother-in-law has to clean up her husband herself, grumbling and cursing the whole time. The pulling and lifting and cleaning of his mess leaves her exhausted. The next morning, I get up and get dressed. I hear my mother-in-law complaining in the kitchen. “Son, are you really going to divorce her? My old bones were killing me last night. Who’s going to do all the housework?” “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m just scaring her with the divorce. Even after we sign, there’s a thirty-day cooling-off period, right? She’ll back out for sure. You’ll just have to tough it out for a while. Let her see that the house runs just fine without her.”

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My master, the man I loved, nearly died mastering the Sun-Shattering Strike. To save him, I traded my body for the royal elixir that mended his soul. When he awoke, he vowed to give me the grandest wedding our city had ever seen. Yet on the eve of our vows, he sent the gown I’d embroidered for months to my junior apprentice’s chambers. I found them laughing— “Three days as a pleasure-barge girl… Who knows how many men she entertained?” Caspian’s gaze turned to ice. “Your body is tainted. I am destined for godhood—how can I wed a whore?” He pulled Elara close. “She gave half her life for the elixir. I’ll marry her. At best, you can be my concubine.” I shattered our betrothal crystal and accepted the Crown Prince’s proposal. On the day the royal carriage came, Caspian dragged me out, sneering— “Your Highness, this prostitute dares impersonate the Crown Princess!” 1 The night before my wedding to another. Elara came to my chambers, wearing the gown I had poured my soul into for two months. Her face was a triumphant sneer. “Avalon, your reputation is in ruins. Everyone says you’re a defiled whore. Did you really think you could compete with me for Master Caspian’s heart?” she gloated. “All I had to do was say I was the one who got the elixir, and he believed me. All your desperate explanations just made you look like a pathetic clown.” Her eyes dripped with mockery, casting me as the tragic, defeated lover. She expected tears, a breakdown. Instead, I simply looked at her. “The gown fits you perfectly,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Keep it. A gift from your senior.” After all, I had no use for it anymore. Elara’s jaw dropped. Shock and disbelief warred on her face. “Avalon… why aren’t you fighting?” I gave a bitter smile. For the past six years, everyone in the Mage’s Guild knew I was hopelessly, obsessively in love with Caspian. If another woman so much as walked too close to him, I would throw a jealous fit. My fellow apprentices teased me, calling me Caspian’s “little bride-to-be.” I was a minor noble, a countess of a forgotten house, sent to the Guild by a cruel stepmother. It was Caspian who had soothed my loneliness, who had shown me kindness. I had fallen for him, hard and deep. For him, I had resolved never to return to my family, to dedicate my life to being his wife, to live out our days together within the Guild’s hallowed walls. But Caspian was impatient. His ambition outstripped his skill. He attempted the Sun-Shattering Strike, a forbidden rite of pure power, and it backfired, twisting his magic into a self-consuming fire. Even our Archmage, the head of the Guild, declared him beyond saving. I refused to believe it. I risked everything, fleeing back to the capital, begging the Crown Prince to grant me the one thing that could save him: a vial of undiluted Sun-Elixir from the royal vaults. Even if it meant selling my body to get it. But when I returned, my clothes in disarray, the elixir clutched in my hand, Caspian was saved. He awoke, while I collapsed from exhaustion. And Elara, my ever-present rival, seized her chance. She swore to everyone that she was the one who had procured the cure. And my absence? Several apprentices swore they had seen me during those days, working on a pleasure-barge on the nearby Serpentine River, servicing men. The rumors spread like wildfire. Caspian’s gaze turned colder, then disgusted. I found him with his arms around Elara, whispering, “Avalon’s body is sullied. I walk the path of a true mage. How could I marry a broken vessel like her? It would be a stain on my legacy.” Hearing those words, I had frozen, ice seeping into my bones. But thinking back on it now, it was all my own doing. I had been a fool. Elara, seeing my unnatural calm, didn’t believe it for a second. She deliberately brought Caspian to my courtyard, pressing against him, their bodies entwined in the most intimate display, all for my benefit. I simply averted my gaze and walked past them. “Avalon!” Caspian’s voice was sharp. “If you’re unhappy, just say it. But if you dare disrupt my wedding to Elara tomorrow, I will not be merciful.” I shook my head, my expression placid. “You worry for nothing, Master.” Not only would I not disrupt their wedding, I wouldn’t even be there. But the two of them weren’t finished with me. Elara’s pale hand snaked around Caspian’s neck, her smile a mixture of caution and contempt. “Master, she’s being so quiet. Do you think she’s planning to steal my gown tomorrow and pull some shameless bride-swapping trick?” she simpered. “Otherwise, how could she be so calm? Normally, she would have torn the whole Guild apart by now to stop you from marrying me.” A flicker of guilt crossed Caspian’s face. He hesitated. “Avalon… although your purity is lost and you cannot be my wife, for the sake of our years together… if you truly insist on marrying me, I will take you as a concubine.” “That won’t be necessary.” Caspian stared, dumbfounded. A faint smile touched my lips. “Don’t worry. I won’t cause you any trouble.” Because I had already accepted the Crown Prince’s proposal. I had just spoken to the Archmage, informing him of my departure from the Guild tonight. In three days, I would be married into the Royal House. I would never have to see them again. “Avalon, in the end, it was Caspian who failed you.” The Archmage sighed, pressing a heavy purse of gold into my hand and offering words of advice. I bowed to him one last time and left the Guild without a backward glance. The next day, Caspian, dressed in his wedding finery, was joking with his fellow mages. “Master Caspian and Elara are a match made in the heavens. If Avalon saw how perfect you look together, she’d surely cause a scene.” “I know, right? Last time, Master Caspian just spoke a few extra words to another apprentice, and Avalon was so angry she didn’t eat all night and smashed the girl’s lantern. A woman that jealous could never bear to see him marry someone else.” Caspian listened in silence, a knowing smile on his lips. As he waited for his bride to finish her preparations, he drank a little too much wine, his eyes occasionally flicking toward my empty courtyard. “What does it matter if she’s jealous? It’s a done deal. Master Caspian is marrying Elara. After all, when his life was on the line, it was Elara who saved him.” “And what was Avalon doing? She ran off to frolic with other men. The sounds from that boat were so loud… who knows how many men had their way with her…” Caspian’s face darkened. He crushed the wine goblet in his hand, his eyes filled with revulsion. “Enough. Avalon is nothing but a broken toy. I wouldn’t take her even if she were offered to me for free. Today is my wedding day with Elara. Speak only of good wishes, not of that faithless woman.” Though he said this, his gaze kept drifting toward my courtyard. But no one emerged. When Elara finally appeared in her crimson gown, Caspian stood up, an irritable edge to his voice. “Where is Avalon?” he demanded. “She’s always full of tricks. Her silence on our wedding day… what is she plotting?” “Master, perhaps we should just ignore her,” Elara suggested sweetly. “She’s probably hiding somewhere, crying because she couldn’t marry you.” “Yes, let’s begin! Don’t miss the auspicious hour!” another apprentice urged. Caspian’s brow was deeply furrowed. He refused to start the ceremony. “Wait.” A strange, inexplicable panic fluttered in his chest. He didn’t know why, but he had to wait. Finally, the Archmage spoke, his voice echoing in the sudden silence. “There is no need to wait. Avalon has left the Guild.” Everyone froze. Caspian looked up, his face a mask of disbelief. “Master, what did you say?” For six years, I had treated the Guild as my only home. Even the year I was so sick I nearly died, I had never spoken of leaving. Caspian’s face paled. “That’s… impossible. What new trick is she playing now? Is she trying to ruin my wedding day for her own satisfaction?” The Archmage shook his head wearily and presented Caspian with a wedding gift from me. “She is truly gone. The child Avalon asked me to give you this.” The moment Caspian opened the small, silken box, the color drained from his face. Inside, two objects rested on a bed of velvet. One was the betrothal crystal, shattered into a dozen pieces. He had given it to me in a moment of passion, swearing it was a family heirloom, passed down to the woman who would be his bride. The other was a letter, sent from a thousand miles away, the year he was on a dangerous mission for the Guild. Gravely wounded and believing he was about to die, he had bitten his own finger and written in his blood: Avalon, if I survive this, I swear I will marry you and protect you for the rest of my life. He had broken his promise. And I had no reason to keep these mementos. “She also said,” the Archmage added, “to wish you a happy marriage.” Caspian stumbled backward, collapsing into his chair. “Avalon is really gone? No… how could that be? She said the Guild was her home. She said she wanted to be buried on the back hill, that she would never leave… never leave me…” Before he could finish, the Archmage cut him off. “Caspian, remember your place.” The old man’s face was stern. “You have chosen to marry Elara. You have no more claim on Avalon. Whether she stays or goes is her own affair. Furthermore, she is still the Countess of Silverwood.” Caspian’s hand tightened around the box, the last traces of color gone from his face. Finally, the day of my true wedding arrived. I donned the phoenix coronet and imperial robes sent by the Prince and stepped into the royal carriage that would take me to the palace. Suddenly, a commotion erupted outside. “I told you, I’m looking for Avalon! She’s the Countess of Silverwood! Just tell me how to get to her family’s estate!” A jolt went through me. I knew that voice. It was Caspian. I instinctively drew back the curtain, and my eyes met his across the crowded street. “Avalon? It really is you!” Caspian’s face was a thundercloud of rage. He shoved his way through the crowd and stormed toward me, yanking me from the carriage. “Parading around in this wedding gown! Have you no shame left?” he roared. “So this is why you left the Guild! To come here and play these games of feigned indifference! Avalon, you are a broken, sullied thing. Did you really think dressing like this would make me take you as a concubine?” His voice was loud, drawing the stares of the common folk. In our kingdom, a woman’s honor was paramount. To lose it was to invite scorn. His public denouncement immediately drew whispers and pointed fingers.

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The senior trip after graduation was where I met Ethan. It was like lightning striking kindling. I fell for him so hard it was almost a death wish. And it was, in a way. It ended when he threw a positive pregnancy test in front of my father. “Mr. Albright,” he’d said, his voice cold and steady, “your daughter is pregnant. The child is mine. And I’m leaving her.” Just like that, Ethan Thorne vanished from my world. It turned out our entire relationship had been nothing but a means to avenge his first love. After that day, my father died. My mother lost her mind. Ten years later, I met Ethan again. 1 I’ve been drinking. Come get me. Got two friends with me. The text was from Marcus. Okay, I typed back, adding a string of hearts and kissing emojis. Marcus is in his forties, but his needs are still… intense. I had a feeling I wouldn’t be coming home tonight. After telling Leo to finish his homework and put himself to bed, I left. Leo is nine now. He’s a good boy. He can sleep at home alone, make his own breakfast, and get himself to school without me. I couldn’t find a parking spot near the hotel. Marcus’s phone was off. I had no choice but to park on the street and walk to the address he’d sent. I heard his booming voice before I even reached the entrance. “Stunning, right? Great body, never complains. Eight grand a month. Cleaner than a hooker, less hassle than a girlfriend. And she comes whenever I call, faster than an Uber.” I pretended I hadn’t heard him talking about me. “Marcus,” I said, my voice even. He spun around. Seeing me standing there, a flash of discomfort crossed his face. He cleared his throat and made the introductions. “This is my old friend, Ethan Thorne, and his fiancée, Rachel.” He gestured toward me. “And this is… my, uh… friend, Valerie Albright.” “A pleasure, Miss Albright.” Ethan shook my hand, his grip firm and polite. Rachel just snorted, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The official girlfriends and wives—they always looked down on me. I never thought I’d see Ethan again in this lifetime. Ten years had stripped away his boyishness, replacing it with the polished confidence of a successful man. In those first few years, I used to fantasize about this moment every single day. How would I react? Would I be incandescent with rage? Would I hate him so much that I’d slap him, or sink my teeth into his flesh? But time and hardship have a way of sanding down all emotion. Seeing him again, all I could manage were two quiet words. “Hello.” 2 They had all been drinking heavily. The car filled with the sour stench of alcohol. On the way over, I’d already stopped to buy three bottles of yogurt drinks and some hangover pills. “See? My Valerie is so thoughtful,” Marcus boasted to Ethan. I’d been with Marcus for three years. He wasn’t a bad man, just had a big mouth. He owned a small advertising agency. He liked to call himself a CEO, but he wasn’t rolling in money. Being able to keep me for eight thousand a month was a point of pride for him. I didn’t see it as an insult. I never got angry about it. In the rearview mirror, I saw Rachel frown, her hand pressed against her stomach. At a red light, I handed her a disposable heat pack. “This might help.” It was only then that Ethan seemed to notice his fiancée’s discomfort. He asked her what was wrong, then had me stop at a pharmacy to buy her some medicine. Rachel’s house was the closest, so she was the first one out. Maybe it was the heat pack, but the initial hostility in her eyes was gone. She thanked me politely and said goodbye. She was pretty, the kind of girl you could tell was raised in a good family. The fact that we dropped her off in a gated community of civil servants’ homes only confirmed it. With just the three of us left in the car, Marcus started getting handsy. He was always like this after a few drinks, acting as if no one else could see, his hand creeping up my thigh. Ethan’s phone rang. “Yeah, I know. Okay, I’m on my way.” He hung up, his voice apologetic. “Marcus, my old man wants me to come over. Would you mind if your friend gave me a ride?” He seemed to know, with absolute certainty, that Marcus wouldn’t come along. When we reached Marcus’s apartment complex, he pulled me into a hug, his hands roaming over my body one last time. “I’ll make it up to you tomorrow,” he whispered in my ear, his hot breath making me flinch. I couldn’t tell if it was because of Marcus, or the impending solitude with Ethan. 3 On the way to Ethan’s family home, he was silent for so long I almost forgot he was in the back seat. The truth is, I knew where the old house was. We had once kissed in front of its ivy-covered iron gate, a desperate, breathless tangle of limbs. He had cupped my face in his hands. “Valerie, can you feel how much I like you?” If it was all an act, why were his eyes filled with starlight? It was a real loss to the world of theater that he hadn’t pursued a career on the stage. A soft chuckle came from the back seat. “Valerie, are you really this cheap? You graduated from a top-tier prep school. Go ask your classmates if any of them would be caught dead earning less than twenty grand a month. And you sell yourself for a measly eight?” I didn’t say anything. What was there to say? That thanks to him, my father, upon learning of my unwed pregnancy, had gone out drinking, stumbled into traffic, and been killed? That my mother, unable to bear the shock, had lost her mind? That I had never made it to my first day of college, my admission rescinded? He would be thrilled to know all that. He hated my family that much. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. When I didn’t respond, Ethan kicked the back of my seat. “Say something, damn it!” Fearing an accident, I pulled the car over to the side of the road. “Ethan,” I said, my voice weary, “what do you want me to say?” 4 The soft click of the door closing still woke Leo. I looked up to see him standing by his bedroom door, clutching a fruit knife, his small body tense and alert. A wave of sorrow washed over me. While I was beneath another man, while I was at the hospital with my mother, this was how my son spent his nights—alone and terrified. “Mom!” A smile broke across his face, and he rushed forward, wrapping his arms around my waist. For so long, I thought of Leo as the symbol of all my suffering. If my father hadn’t died, my parents would have surely taken me to a clinic to end the pregnancy. But he was gone. Both my parents had lost their own parents early in life and had no siblings. If it hadn’t been for my father’s students, his funeral would have been a desolate affair. After the funeral, my mother started talking about suicide constantly. In her lucid moments, she would beat me, screaming that I was a shameless whore who had killed my father. Soon, her lucid moments became rarer. She ran out of the house and attacked a neighbor. We paid a hefty sum in medical bills, and with what little savings we had left, I admitted her to a psychiatric hospital. There, she was diagnosed with kidney failure. During a brief period of clarity, she learned of her diagnosis. Not wanting to be a burden, she threw herself from a window. She survived, but she was paralyzed from the waist down. There was no one to take me to get an abortion. Anyone reading my story up to this point would probably scoff. “She was eighteen, a legal adult. Couldn’t she have gone by herself?” The me of today wants to scoff at the me of back then, too. But the truth is, I couldn’t. I was too scared. Before I met Ethan, the most embarrassing thing I had ever done was take off my shirt for a physical exam before my final exams. I didn’t know how to walk into a women’s clinic and tell a doctor I was pregnant. I couldn’t imagine the look in their eyes. Would they hand me a form for a family member to sign? I had no family. On TV, miscarriages seemed so easy. A fall, a cold drink. I threw myself down the stairs, I punched my own stomach, I swallowed a whole bottle of herbal laxatives. Nothing worked. Every morning, I would tell myself, tomorrow. I’ll deal with it tomorrow. Those days passed in a blur of caring for my mother—feeding her, cleaning her, enduring her beatings and curses when she was lucid. I was miserable, but the days flew by. And so, Leo grew inside me. I was so thin the pregnancy barely showed. It wasn’t until my father’s colleague, my high school homeroom teacher Mrs. Gable, came to visit my mother that anyone noticed. Mrs. Gable thought I was only five months along and was preparing to take me to a clinic. An examination revealed I was already eight months pregnant. Leo was born weighing only four pounds, small and fragile as a baby bird. Mrs. Gable cried. “Valerie, don’t you know? You’ve ruined your life.”

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A thousand years ago, the Luminar clan sacrificed their greatest mages to help the Sovereign imprison the Abyssals in the dark chasm at the world’s edge. A thousand years later, because the Abyssal princess casually remarked, “I’ve heard that Luminar marrow can cure my migraines,” my people were slaughtered to the last. I stood amidst the smoldering ruins of my home, a single thought echoing in the silence. “Mother,” I whispered to the ashes, “you always told me the realms were at peace, that the Sovereign was a benevolent ruler. You said my untamed power was a cataclysm waiting to happen, a danger to this fragile world.” “You had my magic bound, my true strength suppressed. Well, what about now? Do you still believe that?” 1 The day before the massacre, my little brother—still a formless, chittering ball of light—had been begging me to go to the mortal realm to buy him candied star-apples. He was being annoying, and I was about to swat him away with my paw. But Mother stopped me, her voice a gentle chide. “Lyra, that’s your brother.” “He is your closest kin in all the heavens and all the earth. You can’t treat him like some mindless beast.” Closest kin? I was born with a muted soul, the full spectrum of emotions a language I could not comprehend. But I always listened to my mother. I retracted my claws and promised to bring him his treat the next day. He was so overjoyed he tumbled across the ground in a dizzying spiral of light. I watched him, disgusted. “So noisy,” I muttered. But when the first rays of dawn broke, I was already soaring through the clouds, heading down to the mortal markets to buy his candied apples. 2 Now, I stood at the threshold of my home, the sticky-sweet apples still in my hand, staring into a nightmare. The ground was littered with the corpses of Luminars. My little brother, whose bright face had been turned up to me in laughter just this morning, now lay in two pieces. His head was severed from his body, his skull shattered, his brains pooling on the scorched earth. With trembling fingers, I pried open his tightly clenched fist. Inside was the lumina shard I had casually tossed to him on his hundredth birthday. I stared at the shard for a long, silent moment before my voice came out, a dry rasp. “You fool. You’re dead. Why were you still holding this?” “Then again,” I murmured, tracing the cracks in its surface, “the shard is warped. It must have hurt a great deal, didn’t it?” I sat there, frozen in the field of death, from dawn until the deepest dark of night. 3 When Lord Caelus, the Celestial of Mercy, arrived, his eyes widened in shock to see me alive. Then, a slow shake of his head. “Thank the heavens, a survivor. The Luminar line is not truly extinct.” I looked up at him, my mind a hollow void. “What do I do now?” I asked. It took him a moment to understand my question. He sighed, a sound heavy with practiced pity. “Rest easy, child. I will protect you.” “Sovereign Kaelan was… reckless this time. To cause such a catastrophe over a whim of the Abyssal princess… I have already reprimanded him.” “He won’t trouble you again.” The words didn’t make sense. “But… Mother told me there’s a law,” I said, my voice flat. “A life for a life. Why did you only scold him?” At my question, the benevolent mask on Lord Caelus’s face began to crack. A spark of anger ignited in his eyes. “Absurd! Do you have any idea who you speak of?” “He is the Sovereign of all creation! The one who vanquished the demons and quelled the monsters, who bought a thousand years of peace for these realms. He is the God-King!” “How dare you entertain the thought of deicide?” A crushing divine pressure slammed down on me, squeezing the air from my lungs. I opened my mouth to speak, but only a mouthful of warm, metallic blood spilled out. I gritted my teeth, forcing the words out. “You’re wrong.” “Mother told me. This peace was never his alone to claim. The Luminars gave nine-tenths of our great mages. The dragons were nearly wiped out. That is the price of this peace. It wasn’t his work alone.” With every word I spoke, the weight on my soul doubled. I could feel my bones grinding to dust, my very essence on the verge of being snuffed out from existence. Just as I was about to break, the world itself began to tremble. I felt them—a countless, overwhelming tide of my kind, of all the ancient beasts, their spirits rushing towards me from every corner of creation. “Lord Caelus, show mercy!” “Lord Caelus, stay your hand!” “Lord Caelus, have mercy!” The cries grew louder, a chorus of roars and shrieks and bellows. I could hear the roar of a dragon, the cry of a phoenix, the snarl of a great cat… Their collective will formed a protective barrier around me. And then, I sank into darkness. 4 When I awoke, I was in the Celestial Palace. Sovereign Kaelan looked down at me from his throne, his gaze that of a man studying an insect. “Elara’s migraines are much improved,” he stated, his voice devoid of emotion. “Your clan has proven its use. Your existence was not entirely in vain.” “I will issue a decree. You will be granted the title of a Divine Maiden. Do not cause any more trouble.” Ignoring the deep, throbbing pain in my bones, I met his gaze stubbornly. “But my mother said a life for a life is the highest law.” “I don’t want to be a Divine Maiden.” “I only ask that the Sovereign respects the highest law.” Kaelan studied me for a long moment, then a slow, cruel smile spread across his face. “Do you know who Elara is?” “If we are to speak of the highest law, then healing Elara is the most important duty in all the realms. A thousand years ago, Elara was a Celestial Goddess. She willingly sacrificed herself, her own flesh and blood, to mend this broken world.” “If we are to speak of laws and debts, then every living thing in this universe owes her their existence.” When he spoke of Elara, his eyes shone with a brilliant, fervent light. It was the same light I used to see in my father’s eyes when he looked at my mother. I lowered my head and said nothing more. I tried to think, to understand if what he said was true. But my mind is simple, and after a long time, I still couldn’t grasp it. If only Mother were here. She would have told me if he was right. Kaelan seemed to have lost interest in the conversation. He waved a hand, a gesture of dismissal. But I didn’t move. I stubbornly believed that the deaths of my mother, my father, my little brother, my uncles and aunts… they couldn’t just be forgotten. He was beginning to get annoyed. “What more do you want?” I thought for a moment, then held fast to the one truth I understood. “A life for a life.” The instant the words left my mouth, a bolt of pure energy slammed into me, throwing me across the polished floor. I coughed up a pool of blood. Kaelan’s voice dripped with scorn. “You are an ant. Only the strong have the right to speak their desires. Only the strong hold the power of life and death.” “And truth? Truth has always been a luxury of the victor.” I clutched my chest and staggered to my feet, nodding numbly. So, I have to be stronger than him to kill him. So, as long as I’m stronger than him, I can kill him. He should have just said so from the start. It would have saved me so much time. What a pity. My mother never taught me that might makes right. She only ever told me to win others over with reason. 5 As I stumbled out of the throne room, clutching my chest, I bumped into a woman in a green dress, her face alight with a joyful smile. The moment she saw me, her eyes lit up. She threw herself at Kaelan. “Oh, Kaelan! There’s still one more Luminar!” “Quick, carve her brain out for me!” “Do it while she’s alive! The last one, the little one with the fiery crest, I ate him while he was still alive, you know. The effect was so much better!” Her words hung in the air. I couldn’t stop myself. I turned my head and looked at him. In the entire Luminar clan, only my little brother had a fiery crest on his head. Kaelan stroked her hair, his voice dripping with affection. “This is the last Luminar in the world, my love.” “We cannot kill her. Otherwise, the other beasts will be difficult to control.” Elara pouted. “It’s just one animal. What’s the big deal?” I didn’t listen to another word. I limped out of the celestial realm, my body a vessel of cold, hollow pain. Mother, you used to tell me that the gods loved all their children. But why… why does it feel so different from what you said? 6 When I returned to the mortal realm, Lord Dragon and Lady Phoenix were waiting for me at my ruined home. When they saw me return, battered and broken, they both trembled with a silent, helpless rage. Then, they sighed, their anger collapsing into grief. Lady Phoenix stroked my hair. “Lyra, child. Don’t provoke them again.” “Just live. Please, just live.” I looked at her, uncomprehending. “Why?” “Shouldn’t a life be paid for with a life?” “No,” she said, shaking her head, tears welling in her eyes. “Living is what matters most.” “Lyra, you are the last of the Luminars. You are the last drop of their blood. Nothing is more important than your survival.” “Your mother… she would not have wanted you to seek revenge.” “She would only have wanted you to live.” I said nothing more. I turned, found a shovel, and began to dig. My father, my mother, my foolish little brother… they deserved a proper burial. As I held my brother’s severed head, I remembered Elara’s words—that she’d had his brain carved out while he was still alive. It must have hurt so much. It must have hurt terribly. No wonder the lumina shard in his hand was cracked and bent out of shape. This morning he was a vibrant, chittering life. Now he was as cold as a block of ice. No one would ever chirp “sister, sister” at me again. It was so quiet. Yes, it was quiet, but… it was too quiet. A gust of wind blew past, and my eyes stung. Why were there tears? Mother said I was born with a muted soul. It must have been the wind. Yes, that’s all it was… 7 After burying my parents, I leaned against the stone marker I’d erected. I began to talk, my words a low murmur. “Mother, you told me the realms were at peace, that the Sovereign was benevolent.” “What about now? Do you still believe that?” “Mother, I still believe a life should be paid for with a life.” “Mother, I’m going to the Whispering Glade. I’m going to take back the other half of my power.” “Mother, I don’t want to listen to you anymore.” “Mother, you can’t blame me for this…” “Mother… I just… I miss you a little. And I miss my brother, too.” “Mother…”

It was my son’s eighteenth birthday. He made a wish for his grandparents to live long and healthy lives. He wished for his father’s success at work. When it was my turn, I looked at him with anticipation. He knew that more than anything, I just wanted to be healthy. Instead, he shot me a glare. “I wish for you to get a divorce and stay away from us.” I was stunned into silence. My husband, Patrick, just laughed at me. “Well, that’s what you get for being so strict with him all the time. Serves you right!” Later, my son emigrated, taking the entire family with him—everyone except me. When I begged him, he shook my hand away. “I’ve already found a new, gentler partner for Dad. Don’t you dare show up and ruin things!” And so, I died alone of a preventable illness in a cramped, tiny room. When I woke up, I was back on the day of my son’s eighteenth birthday. 1 When the building management found me, maggots had already started to fester on my legs. I was barely breathing, hanging on by a single thread. For the first time, my small apartment was full of people. Management staff, social workers. A young caregiver gently fed me, urging me to keep fighting. Someone questioned, “This illness wasn’t hard to treat in the beginning. How did it get this bad? Where’s her family?” I couldn’t speak. They recognized my son from the photos covering the walls. “Wow, her son is that famous? The renowned entrepreneur, on the list of the wealthiest people.” “That’s strange. Why didn’t he take her with him when he emigrated? In his last interview, he said his whole family was by his side.” Soon, they managed to contact him. I struggled to lift my head, trying to get a clear look at the man on the screen. It had been nearly twenty years since I’d last seen him. He was a fifty-year-old man now, but in my eyes, he was still the boy I remembered. With every ounce of strength I had left, I managed to whisper his name. “Danny…” He frowned. “Why aren’t you dead yet?” Then, he hung up. A volunteer called him back. “How could you say that? Your mother is holding on by a thread just to see you one last time. The doctor says she doesn’t have much time. Shouldn’t you come back and handle her final affairs?” An impatient “Tsk” came from the other end. “Let me be honest with you. She’s just some old woman to me, a stranger. Whether she lives or dies has nothing to do with me. Bury her, scatter her ashes in the sea, I don’t care. Just stop bothering me.” Tears welled in my eyes. Flashes of memory flickered before me. My son’s life, from infancy to adulthood, replayed in my mind. Suddenly, one scene froze. I blinked, disoriented. I found myself standing in front of the bathroom mirror, my face young again. 2 It took me a long moment to realize I had been reborn. Today was my son, Daniel’s, eighteenth birthday. Outside, the air was filled with joyous laughter—a picture of a loving father and a devoted son. In my hands, I held a birthday gift. It was an acceptance letter to a prestigious leadership camp in the United States, something I had pulled every string, exhausted every connection, and swallowed every ounce of my pride to get for him. The attendees were all children of the rich and powerful; being smart was merely the minimum requirement. In my past life, this camp was the opportunity that connected him with the right people, paving the way for his future success. “Eliza, what’s taking you so long? Daniel is about to make his wishes!” Hearing my husband’s call, I walked out. Just like before, my presence was like a blast of cold air, chilling the warm atmosphere in an instant. Daniel shot me a cool glance before clasping his hands together to make his wish. “Please, please let my grandparents live to be a hundred! “And please let my dad’s career be successful, with promotions and a seven-figure salary!” The three adults clapped, their faces beaming with pride, and presented their gifts. His grandparents gave him a basketball. His father gave him a pair of sneakers. Daniel accepted them gratefully, planting a kiss on each of their cheeks. The next second, he was about to blow out the candles. My mother-in-law pressed his hand down and shot me a look, an expression that screamed: If you don’t make a wish for her, she’ll throw another one of her fits. So, just like in my past life, Daniel reluctantly clasped his hands together again. “I wish for my mom and dad to get a divorce, and for this plague of a mother to get far, far away from us! It would be best if she never appeared in our lives again!” The exact same words. But this time, my reaction was different. I didn’t break down, I didn’t cry and ask him why. I didn’t kneel and offer him the gift in my hands, trying to win his favor. Patrick just laughed. “Well, serves you right for being so strict. Now he doesn’t like you!” My in-laws joined in with their own barbs. “A child knows when he’s grown. He knows his grandparents and his father are the ones who truly love him, not like some people who pretend they’re doing what’s best for the child while actually abusing him.” “If his mother was a gentle woman, our Danny would be even more successful!” I nodded. “Alright. Since it’s your birthday wish, I have no reason not to grant it. Let’s get a divorce.” The chatter stopped abruptly. Then, all four of them pursed their lips, trying to stifle their smirks. Patrick crossed his legs, teasing me. “Sure, whatever. It’s the first time I’ve seen you so agreeable. We can go handle the paperwork tomorrow.” I shook my head. “No, I’m busy tomorrow.” They laughed even louder. Daniel, with a look of smug certainty, sneered, “Here come the excuses. You don’t want a divorce at all. You’re just a control freak, a shrew!” I looked them straight in the eye. “What I mean is, it’s only noon. We don’t have to wait until tomorrow. We can get the divorce finalized this afternoon.” My mother-in-law glared at me. “Stop pretending. I’d sooner believe the sky is falling than believe you’d actually go through with a divorce! Just give Danny his gift!” She reached over and snatched the envelope from my hand. Daniel took it, tore it open carelessly, and muttered, “It’s so flat. Must be some cheap piece of junk. I don’t want it!” He ripped the packaging open with a violent tug. An admission ticket, sealed in a plastic sleeve, fluttered out. When he saw what it was, his eyes lit up like the sun. “It’s a ticket to the Saen Leadership Camp!” I snatched the ticket back. “Since you don’t want me as your mother anymore, you don’t get to have my things.” 3 The smiles vanished from their four faces. Patrick pointed a finger at me. “Are you serious? Always blowing things out of proportion! He’s your son! Who else would you give it to?” My mother-in-law’s words were laced with poison. “She must have a lover on the side. You can take the girl out of the sticks, but you can’t take the sticks out of the girl!” I’d heard those words countless times in my past life. Each time, they brought me to tears. But I endured it all, just so my son could have a complete family. In the end, my endurance became a joke. If that’s the case, why should I endure anything anymore? “Cut the crap. Are we getting a divorce or not?” Just as Patrick was about to speak, Daniel leaped to his feet, pointing and screaming at me. “To hell with you, you old hag! Divorce! Dad, divorce her! What’s the big deal about one stupid ticket? If you can get one, don’t you think Dad can? Or Grandma?” His nostrils flared with rage, his eyes like a wolf’s, burning with fury. Ever since he could remember, he’d said things like this. His dad was a sales manager who made good money. His grandparents were retired teachers, educated people. I was the only one from a small town with a community college degree, uncultured and empty-headed. All four of them treated my years of devotion as if they were nothing. I always thought, It’ll be better when he’s older. It’ll be better when he sees the world. Then he would understand how much I’d done for him. So, in my past life, I used this ticket to send him out to see that wider world. In the end, all I got in return was to be sent to a rundown building, to live out my final days in a semi-basement studio apartment. How pathetic. Hearing his words again, I didn’t argue. I just nodded. “Of course. They’re so capable, they can definitely get one.” The expressions on the other three changed. They looked like they wanted to say something but couldn’t. I took a deep breath. “Marital assets, fifty-fifty split. You get custody of the child. That’s it.” I walked into the bedroom to pack my things, not wanting to stay a second longer. Daniel was still shouting outside. My in-laws were coddling him like a little emperor, and their method of comfort was to tear me down. “Mommy is vicious, Mommy is bad. She’ll get what’s coming to her. Don’t be angry, Danny, it’s not good for you.” “Your mom would never leave you. She’s just saying that. You’re her only child. How could she survive without you? A small-town woman like her, so old-fashioned, she can’t make it on her own.” Daniel was still yelling. “I just don’t want her as my mom! Damn it, can’t she just go die?” A pang of pain still shot through my heart. By the time I had packed two large suitcases, it was quiet outside. Patrick opened the door. Hands in his pockets, he looked down at me with a smirk. “Putting on a good show, aren’t you? Fine, you want to act? Let’s go. We’ll go get divorced right now.” I pulled out my ID and marriage certificate. “Let’s go.” His smile froze. “You want a divorce? Fine. You leave with nothing, and I’ll sign. How about that?” I laughed. “Oh, so you don’t want me to leave after all. You’re just trying to provoke me into staying?” “Me, not want you to leave? What a joke! Where would you even go without us? Fifty-fifty, you said? Fine! I’ll give it to you! Don’t you dare back down now!” 4 It was only at the registrar’s office that I understood why Patrick had been so bold. He had transferred ninety percent of our marital assets. Even the house was in his parents’ names. My half of the remaining assets amounted to less than three thousand dollars. He signed the papers without hesitation. I sighed. I really didn’t want to waste any more time on them. I picked up the pen and signed my name just as quickly. Patrick’s expression shifted. “You’ll regret this impulsive little act of yours. You’re the one who’s going to suffer. Let’s see how you win back your son now! I’m not withdrawing this application unless you kneel and beg me. Just wait thirty days until you’re officially kicked out of my house!” He glanced down at my knees, expecting me to drop and apologize. After all, this had happened many times before. He would force me to file for divorce, then use our son to threaten me into kneeling and begging him to withdraw it. In the past, for Daniel’s sake, I could never go through with it. This time, I stood up, gave his knee a sharp kick, and walked out. He chased after me, calling me a “vicious hag.” I ignored him. I listened to his curses all the way home. The moment I opened the door, I sensed something was off. My in-laws were whispering to Daniel, nudging him forward. The next second, he walked toward me, his face a mask of resentment. “Hey. Give me the ticket, and I’ll forget what you did. I’ll… graciously let you continue being my mom.” I smiled and shook my head. “No need to be gracious. I quit.” He looked ready to explode. My mother-in-law quickly restrained him and showed me his glasses. “Eliza, stop this nonsense. Look how thick his glasses are. You know better than anyone how hard he’s worked for this. If he misses this chance to study abroad, he’ll have to take the standard exams like everyone else here and live a normal, hopeless life.” I raised an eyebrow. “How could that be? You and his father are so capable. You’ll find a way to get a ticket, won’t you?” They frowned. Patrick yelled, “If you can do it, of course we can! But we’re busy, we don’t have time. Besides, you already have one. If we don’t use it, you’ll just accuse us of hurting your feelings later!” Four pairs of eyes were locked on the ticket in my hand. I looked at my son’s stubborn, arrogant expression, and at the glasses that were indeed much thicker than last year’s. My heart softened, just for a moment. Fine. This is the last time. I took out the ticket and handed it to him. “From now on, we are even.” He snatched it away with a huff. “So dramatic! Now hurry up and go make some ice cream. I want blueberry! Otherwise, I’ll tell Dad to really divorce you!”

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My university roommates knew I was a yoga teacher, so they asked me to lead them in some classes. Ten dollars a session, four times a week. Then one day, no one showed up. No one would even answer my texts. That’s when I found out my best friend, Jessica, had stolen my little business. She was only charging eight dollars a class. But Jessica had only taken a handful of classes with me. She didn’t understand the first thing about yoga principles. Sure enough, a few sessions later, her aggressive hands-on adjustment broke a classmate’s leg. 1 Not a single person came to my class today. The dance studio, usually packed, was completely empty. A wave of disappointment washed over me. Was there some school event I didn’t know about? I packed up my mat and props and headed back to the dorm. When I got there, I found them all, already looking like they’d just finished a yoga session. I stood frozen at the door. “You didn’t come to my class. Where did you practice?” An outside yoga studio charges over a hundred dollars for a single class. Wasn’t my ten-dollar fee a much better deal? But no one even looked at me. They exchanged awkward glances and scattered. I suddenly felt like a complete fool. I grabbed my roommate, Lily, by the arm. “Lily, what’s going on? Did I do something wrong?” Lily turned her head, glaring at me angrily as she wrenched her hand free. “Get lost! And to think I called you a friend! You’re such a scammer!” I was utterly confused. “I didn’t do anything.” Lily took a step closer, her neck craned. “Didn’t do anything? You tell me! How much does an outside yoga teacher charge for one class?” This was a question I was more than qualified to answer. My family owns a chain of yoga studios. My mom and my aunt are both certified Iyengar instructors. I started training with them professionally at a young age. By the time I was in high school, I was already a qualified advanced yoga instructor. I rushed to explain. “For a corporate class of fifteen people, an instructor at a studio charges around $300 a session!” “Bullshit!” Lily shoved me, furious. “We looked it up! A yoga teacher’s fee is $100, max!” How was that possible? Where did she get that information? My heart pounded with anxiety. “My family’s…” “Your family’s what? Stop bragging! We checked! That ‘Serenity Yoga’ studio you talked about? It’s not yours! The legal owner’s last name is Chen!” Lily stormed off without giving me another chance to explain. But the registered legal representative of Serenity Yoga… was my grandmother. 2 Watching Lily’s angry retreat, a wave of hurt washed over me. She wasn’t a malicious person. Lily was straightforward, cheerful, and even a little naive. This wasn’t the first time she’d been used as someone’s pawn. This whole thing definitely didn’t start with her. Then who? My eyes fell on my best friend Jessica’s desk. There were several newly purchased, obscure-looking yoga books on it. A suspicion began to form in my mind. Just then, Jessica walked in carrying a washbasin. The moment she saw me, a flicker of something unreadable—shame and greed—crossed her eyes. It was gone in an instant, replaced by her usual bright smile. “Hey, sweetie, when did you get back?” I stared at her, silent. She put down the basin and took my hand. “What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?” Tears suddenly started streaming down my face. She was my best friend. Seeing her like this, my sense of betrayal reached its peak. “Jess, did you…” Before I could finish, seven or eight other students stormed into our room. The one in the lead, Maya, yelled furiously, “So, Joyce’s back! You money-grubbing piece of trash! Ripping off your own classmates!” “Yeah! Were you raised by wolves? No manners at all?” I stumbled backward, terrified. Jessica ducked behind the crowd of students. Maya got right in my face, her expression menacing. “Joyce! You said you’d contact the factory for us, that you got us the cheapest yoga mats. Have you no shame?” I was trembling with anger. “The factory price was $68! And they threw in yoga blocks and a stretching strap for free.” Maya hurled two yoga blocks at my face. “Who wants your crappy, defective freebies! Take them back!” “Yeah! ‘Free gifts’? More like charity handouts.” Blood gushed from my nose. A flicker of fear crossed a few of their faces, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. I pulled out a few tissues and pressed them to my nostrils. “I have the chat logs with the factory owner,” I sobbed. “You can look at them.” “Pah! Chat logs can be faked! You’re all in on it together! Who would believe you!” Maya pointed a finger at me. “I’m telling you, stop playing the victim! Refund our money for the mats right now!” “Yeah! Refund!” “And refund the extra fees you charged us for the classes!” 3 The tears wouldn’t stop. “Fine! I’ll refund it! I don’t want friends like you anyway!” “Who wants to be friends with you, you greedy pig!” “Haha, yeah, that’s right! From now on, we’ll call her Greedy Joyce!” My nose was still bleeding, and I felt dizzy. “Give… give me back the… the yoga blocks and straps I gave you.” Maya laughed. “You scammed us. We’re keeping those as compensation.” “You’re going too far! You know how much yoga mats cost in the stores.” I cried, replacing the blood-soaked tissues. “Then how did Jessica find us mats for only $38?” At that, my heart sank. The tears stopped instantly. I looked up, past the crowd, to my dear friend, my best friend. Her eyes darted around before she pushed her way through the group. “Alright, everyone, calm down. Even if Joyce did something wrong, she did teach us for a while. We should be grateful for that.” “Grateful? For what? For overcharging us?” “Yeah, we’re all poor students. She’s so calculating, her heart must be black!” Jessica stood in front of me, as if defending me. “She’s been punished, hasn’t she? Look, she’s bleeding.” “Serves her right!” “Fine. For Jessica’s sake, we won’t kill you today.” Maya tilted her head at me. “But I’m telling you, you’d better refund our money before we go to bed tonight!” The group of them swarmed out of the room. Someone turned back to ask, “Jess, what time is class tomorrow?” Jessica shot a nervous glance at me, then whispered, “I’ll post a notice in the group chat. Just wait for it.” Then she too scurried out of the room. Lily, who had been silent this whole time, had her fists clenched tightly. Looking like she’d made a decision, she walked over to me. She handed me a warm towel. “Joyce… no matter what you did, I should have helped you just now. I didn’t know they would get physical.” I pushed the towel away. Lily looked crestfallen. I forced a smile. “This is all evidence. I can’t wipe it away.” “I’m sorry, Joyce. I was watching them. If anyone had tried to touch you again, I would have fought them.” Finally, a kind word all night. I shook my head at her. “I’m fine.” Then, I gathered all the bloody tissues, didn’t change my clothes, and called my mom. “Mom, call the police. I’ve been assaulted.” 4 Lily offered to walk with me, but I refused. She said, her voice filled with unease, “Joyce, maybe I misunderstood you. Just now, I didn’t see a single ounce of guilt in your eyes. Only fear and disappointment.” “I didn’t do anything wrong. Why should I feel guilty?” She nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, that’s right. But Jessica, on the other hand… her eyes were darting all over the place, like she was hiding something.” I gave a tired smile. Lily was finally thinking for herself. She grabbed my wrist. “Joyce! She was lying, I’m so sorry. But when I heard what she said about you, I was just so angry.” I patted the back of her hand. “Just take care of yourself.” A small smile finally appeared on her face. “What do you mean?” “When you go to her yoga class, don’t push yourself too hard.” “Okay, okay, don’t worry!” Just then, my mom called. “Joyce, come downstairs. We’re going straight to the police station.” I grabbed all my evidence and ran downstairs. As I passed the room next door, Maya spotted me. “Are you crazy, running out in the middle of the night?” she yelled. Then I heard Jessica’s shout from behind her. “Don’t let her get away! She’s trying to skip out on the refund! Everyone, after her!” I had just reached the second floor when I heard the thunder of footsteps behind me, like a mob chasing a thief. “Damn it, Joyce! Give us our money back!” “Refund! Don’t let her get away!” I reached the ground floor and sprinted for the east gate where my mom’s car was parked. I jumped in and slammed the door shut, watching as the girls stood there, furious, yelling curses at me. Jessica, out of breath, glared at me with pure hatred. A chill ran down my spine. Jessica was a scholarship student. She had once complained to me, “This world is so unfair. Some people have to walk miles to get to school, while others are born riding in cars.” At the time, I wanted to comfort her. But her next words stuck in my throat like a fishbone. “All rich people should just die!” 5 Jessica hid her true self so well. From the very beginning, she was never genuinely interested in just exercising. She had said that classes were tiring, that everyone’s necks were about to break. She heard yoga was relaxing, and since I knew how to teach it, why not lead a few sessions for everyone? A group of college girls, laughing and practicing together—it sounded like fun. So I agreed. I originally thought I would just be teaching a few people from our dorm. I never expected Jessica to book a dance studio and gather a group of over fifteen people. She even told everyone that they should give me a little something for my time, so I wouldn’t be working for free. She had looked at me with those big, innocent eyes. “Sweetie, how much do you think we should charge per person, per class?” I looked at the group; it was the same size as a small corporate class. I figured half price would be fair. So, a total of $150, which came out to $10 per person. My corporate classes were an hour long. For my classmates, I always taught for at least an hour and a half. I would carefully observe each person’s physical condition and tailor the practice to their needs. I would never rush them or push them into difficult poses just for show, wearing out their bodies in the process. I wanted my classmates to heal their bodies gradually. Pelvic alignment, spinal decompression, restoring the natural curve of the cervical spine. Jessica was one of those people who appeared very flexible. But any real practitioner knows that a “stiff” body is a gift. It means your joints are stable and your ligaments have enough elasticity to protect you from injury. But on the surface, it can look clumsy. Jessica was the opposite. In her very first class, she could already get into some advanced-looking poses. But on closer observation, I noticed she had a severe anterior pelvic tilt and hyperextended knees. If she wasn’t careful, she could easily fracture a bone. This is not uncommon in yoga practice. Looking back, I realized she never took my warnings seriously. In fact, she probably thought I was jealous of her. The other students were always praising her, calling her a natural, saying how amazing she was. I even vaguely remember someone saying, “Jess, you were born to be a yoga teacher.” “Yeah, look at Joyce, she’s been practicing for years and her splits aren’t as good as yours. You got it on your first try!”

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