Author: Momo Chan

“You’re broke, and now you’re cheating? I can’t take this anymore! You can’t even afford a decent apartment. We’re done, you absolute loser!” My boyfriend froze for a second. He lowered his eyes. “Okay,” he said calmly. Just as I was reeling from how easily he agreed, glowing text suddenly started scrolling across my vision like a live chat feed. [This gold-digger is so stupid. The female lead barely did a thing, and she couldn’t wait to dump the male lead. Doesn’t she know he’s the secret heir to a billionaire dynasty?] [The second she dumps him, his filthy-rich biological parents are going to bring him home to inherit a massive empire. She’s going to regret this so badly!] [Wait until this side-character realizes she’s pregnant and tries to use the baby to secure a ring. She gets hit by a car and dies before she even sees his face again. Hilarious!] I snapped back to reality. A loud sob ripped from my throat. “I say we’re done and you just agree? Did you want to get rid of me this whole time?!” 1 Harry looked at me, his eyes heavy with absolute exhaustion. “What exactly do you want from me?” “What do I want?” I screamed, my chest heaving. “I should be asking you that! I’ve scraped by on pennies with you, and you do this behind my back? Do you have any conscience at all?” Harry stared at me like I was losing my mind. “What exactly did I do behind your back?” “What did you do?” I let out a bitter laugh. I grabbed his jacket from the chair, dug into the pocket, and threw a tiny red lace thong right at his feet. “If you don’t tell me whose this is, I will make your life a living hell!” Harry looked down at the scrap of lace. He studied it for a second, then looked back up with a deadpan expression. “That is not mine. I don’t have that kind of fetish.” “Are you out of your mind?!” I yelled. [The male lead actually thinks she’s accusing him of cross-dressing. He didn’t even consider she was accusing him of cheating. His brain works in mysterious ways, LOL.] [He’s incredibly loyal. Cheating probably never even crossed his mind.] [That’s not the point! The point is, now that she brought it out in the open, will they still break up?] It took a few more seconds for the reality of the situation to finally hit Harry. Panic flashed in his eyes. “I have no idea where that thing came from! I haven’t been within ten feet of another woman today. It’s impossible.” He stopped. His rushed words slowed down. The panic in his eyes slowly faded into a cold, hard suspicion. “I know it’s been rough for you,” Harry said, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper. “If you want out, I won’t beg you to stay. But you didn’t have to go this far.” I stared at him, utterly confused. “Go how far?” Did he seriously think I planted a thong in his pocket just to pick a fight? Harry closed his eyes. When he opened them, there was nothing left but ice. “You’re young. You’re beautiful. You should go find someone who can give you a better life. Let’s break up.” My eyes widened in pure shock. “What did you just say?” He wouldn’t even look at me. “Let’s break up,” he repeated, his tone final. Blind rage took over. I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the cheek. “You bastard!” Regret hit me the second my palm connected. I opened my mouth to apologize, but Harry just turned on his heel. His face was a mask of stone. Pride and adrenaline hijacked my brain. “Fine! We’re done! Whoever comes crawling back is a pathetic loser!” I screamed at his back. Harry paused for a fraction of a second. Then he quickened his pace, walked out the front door, and slammed it behind him. Staring at the closed door, my nose stung. The tears spilled over instantly. [I thought the female lead’s plan failed, but it actually worked! What a plot twist, haha!] [Honestly, I feel like the female lead was kind of out of line here. The side-character and the male lead were perfectly happy together. She didn’t need to ruin their relationship just to take her place. Just saying.] [Are you kidding? The female lead is his rightful fiancée! If he hadn’t been swapped at birth by that evil nanny, they would have been together from the start!] [Plus, in the previous timeline, this side-character used her pregnancy to act like a total tyrant. She bullied the female lead relentlessly. It’s totally fair for the female lead to get revenge after being reincarnated.] Fine. We’re done! Big deal! I can survive perfectly fine without him! Saying it was easy. Believing it was impossible. I stumbled into the bedroom, buried my face in the pillows, and bawled my eyes out. I don’t know how long I cried. Eventually, the sound of the front door unlocking echoed through the apartment. I stopped sobbing instantly. I scrambled off the bed and bolted toward the hallway. Right as I reached the bedroom frame, I slammed on the brakes. Just because he came back didn’t mean he wanted to fix things. He was probably just here to pack his bags. My chest tightened painfully. I took a shaky breath, biting my lip to hold back a fresh wave of tears. Before I could turn around, the bedroom door pushed open. Harry stood there. His handsome face looked utterly miserable. When he saw my tear-stained cheeks and tragic expression, he froze. Slowly, he held out a plastic bag. “I got Thai takeout and boba. Eat first. We can talk after.” [I seriously thought he was going to leave that gold-digger. Turns out he just went downstairs, smoked a few cigarettes, and talked himself out of it.] [He’s a deeply responsible guy. The side-character didn’t actually want to break up. Even if he’s annoyed with her right now, he wouldn’t just abandon her.] [Doesn’t matter. They’re breaking up eventually.] I forced myself to ignore the glowing words dripping with malice. I sniffled and nodded. “Okay.” I followed him to the living room and sat at the tiny dining table, totally zoned out. He unpacked the food, popping the lid off the steaming noodles. He unwrapped a pair of chopsticks for me and even poked the thick straw through the plastic seal of my milk tea. I looked up at him. “Are you going to eat?” “I already ate,” he said quietly. I didn’t call out his obvious lie. I just kept my head down and quietly chewed my food. Whenever Harry was stressed, he craved a cigarette. His fingers brushed against a crumpled pack on the table, but he hesitated. Instead, he tossed the pack onto the counter, far out of reach. “You can smoke if you want to,” I mumbled. I hated the smell of smoke, so he never lit up around me. I used to think that was just how things should be. Now, I didn’t dare act so entitled. “Don’t feel like it,” he replied coldly. Suit yourself, I thought. I stayed quiet. The silence stretched on. Finally, Harry leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “The money I have saved right now… it’s only enough for a down payment on a tiny, run-down place.” He looked up, his dark eyes searching my face. “If you’re willing to settle, we can buy a fixer-upper first. When we save up more money later, we can upgrade to a nice house.” I stopped chewing. I looked up, staring at him in absolute shock. Harry offered a small, self-deprecating smile. “Didn’t you always say your biggest dream was to have a home of your own? Is it too small for you?” My nose burned. The tears I had been desperately fighting back broke through the dam. Panic washed over Harry’s face. “Okay, we don’t have to buy the small place! We can just keep renting until we save enough for a new house. Please don’t cry, baby. Come on.” His panicked comforting only made it worse. The sweeter he was, the harder I cried. I gave up, threw myself into his arms, and sobbed into his chest. Harry wrapped his arms around me tightly. He stroked my hair, murmuring into my ear over and over again. “Don’t cry, sweetheart. I promise, we’ll get that big house one day.” [You have to pity her a little. She’s so obsessed with owning a house because she had such a traumatic, unstable childhood.] [Having a sad past doesn’t give her the right to torture the male lead and bully the female lead! Stop making excuses for her.] [Exactly. She looks pitiful now, but the second she meets a richer guy, she’s going to toss the male lead aside like garbage!] My parents split up when I was three. Soon after, they both started new families. At first, I lived with my grandmother, and things were relatively peaceful. But after she passed away, I was passed around from one relative’s house to another. I grew up swallowing insults, sleeping on couches, and feeling like an unwanted burden. It wasn’t until I graduated college and met Harry that I finally felt a sense of stability. I had told him countless times that my only goal in life was to own a space that was completely mine. But trying to buy property in this sprawling metropolis on our average salaries was nearly impossible. I admit, I had become slightly obsessed with the idea of a house lately. But I never, ever intended to dump Harry just because he couldn’t afford a mansion. I really believed he was cheating on me. That was why I snapped. And as for my relatives, I didn’t hold a grudge. They weren’t my parents. The fact that they put a roof over my head at all was more than I was owed. I cried for a long time. Harry’s gentle voice finally pulled me back to earth. He kissed my forehead, his eyes full of fierce determination. “Trust me. We’re going to have a beautiful home.” I buried my face in his shirt. “I know.” Harry pulled back slightly. He stared at my lips for a few seconds. Without any warning, he crashed his mouth into mine. We stumbled into the bedroom, completely lost in each other. Right as things were about to escalate, his cell phone started blaring from the living room. We both froze. Harry groaned, reaching over to grab the phone. His jaw clenched. “Who is it?” I asked, catching my breath. “My boss,” he muttered, sounding incredibly frustrated. “Probably dragging me to another networking dinner.” I hated it, but I gave his shoulder a gentle push. “He sees potential in you. You should go.” Harry’s foster parents were terrible people. He had been forced to drop out of high school to work and support them. They bled him dry for years. It wasn’t until we got together that he finally managed to cut them off. He was brilliant and learned faster than anyone I knew. But without a college degree or family connections, he was stuck fighting for scraps at the bottom of the corporate ladder. Recently, a self-made entrepreneur had taken him under his wing. The guy wanted to mentor Harry, but that meant constant late-night drinking and networking. It was a rare opportunity. He couldn’t say no, and I fully supported him. Harry bit my collarbone playfully, a dark promise in his eyes. “I’m finishing this when I get back.” I kicked his leg with a laugh. He chuckled, pulling his clothes back on. He was dialing his boss back as he walked out the door. It wasn’t until the lock clicked shut that my brain caught up with the floating text. Harry was the heir to a billionaire empire. He absolutely did not need to suck up to his mid-level boss anymore. But I had to keep playing my part. If I suddenly changed my behavior, it would raise too many red flags. Then, another terrifying thought hit me. The comments mentioned I wanted to use my baby to secure a marriage. If I guessed right, I was already pregnant! Panic setting in, I threw on a jacket, ran down to the corner pharmacy, and bought three different brands of pregnancy tests. I took two of them. Both showed two bold pink lines. I really was pregnant. But would Harry’s billionaire parents ever accept me? If they hated me, would Harry stand by my side? Even if he chose me, would he have the power to fight his own family? I had no idea. All I could do was take it one day at a time. I was just about to crawl into bed when the floating text exploded across my vision again. [OMG! The male lead’s biological dad is at the dinner tonight! Is today the day he officially reclaims his identity?] [I think so! The side-character literally just dumped him, and now he’s getting his billionaire status! Wait… didn’t they not break up this time?] [The timeline might be slightly altered, but the male lead already saw her true gold-digging colors. He definitely hates her guts by now!] My heart sank like a stone. I tried calling Harry. It went straight to voicemail. I texted. Nothing. The floating text vanished completely. I was losing my mind. I paced the tiny living room like a trapped animal, eventually sliding down the wall and hugging my knees, crying silently. What was the worst-case scenario? It was exactly what the comments said. He would think I was a materialistic gold-digger and cut me out of his life forever. It wasn’t like he was going to put a hit out on me. I would survive. But what about the baby? Do I raise it in secret, forcing my child to live in the shadows? Or do I use the baby to blackmail Harry for a massive payout so we never have to worry about money again? I didn’t have the guts for either. That left only one option. I had to terminate the pregnancy. Even though I had prepared for the worst, a tiny, foolish part of me still hoped. I didn’t rush to the clinic immediately. I waited for Harry to finish his rich-family reunion and call me. He never called. Instead, the news I got was that Harry had been in a massive bar brawl and was facing prison time. His boss called me, sounding deeply apologetic. He said Harry could be locked up for ten years. He felt responsible, so he wired me fifty thousand dollars as compensation. He told me he hoped I would wait for Harry to get out, but his tone heavily implied I should take the money, run, and start a new life. I didn’t want to play along. But then the text appeared again. [If this side-character knows what’s good for her, she’ll take the cash and disappear. Otherwise, the female lead is going to destroy her!] [What can the female lead even do? She can’t exactly murder her, right?] [You don’t seriously think her fatal car crash in the original timeline was an ‘accident’, do you? LOL.] Victoria had money, power, and influence. What could I possibly do? I had to take the fifty thousand dollars and run. While I was on the train heading back to my hometown, a chilling realization hit me. Victoria was reincarnated. She knew I was pregnant with Harry’s child. There was no way she would chase me out of the city but leave the baby alive. It didn’t take long to figure out the sick brilliance of her plan. In her eyes, I was a heartless gold-digger. If Harry was going to prison for a decade, I would never keep his baby. No one would even have to force me. I would march right into a clinic and get rid of it myself. And if I didn’t? Then a tragic “accident” would find me on the street, taking out both me and the baby permanently. I had zero choices. I had to play the part Victoria expected. I had to go to the hospital and terminate my own pregnancy. On the day of the procedure, I was sitting frozen on the cold plastic chair in the waiting room. Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of dread washed over me. I looked up instinctively. Harry was striding down the sterile hallway. His face was thunderous, his eyes locked onto me with pure, unadulterated murder.

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1 Otto and I were a perfect match and each other’s worst nightmare. Both too proud, stubborn, and competitive for our own good, we fought constantly. Our ninety-ninth fight ended with him kicking me out on the highway in a downpour. I retaliated by hiring teens to smash his windshield. When he gave me the silent treatment, I blocked him everywhere and enjoyed the quiet. We always fought dirty and made up fast. By day seven of our cold war, my pride caved. I unblocked him and texted, I’m sorry. An instant reply came, not from him, but a photo of Otto asleep on his childhood best friend Hailey’s shoulder. Hey Summer, Otto crashed at mine after playing too hard, she wrote. I’ll have him call when he wakes. A bitter burn rose in my throat. This was our ninety-ninth fight over Hailey. As I deleted his contact, I checked the box to erase every chat. Our ninety-ninth storm would be our last. No hundredth chance, no rainy reunion. The love I had chased to exhaustion was finally dead. … I wiped my face, stood up, and began packing my life into cardboard boxes. As I looked around the apartment, a heavy ache settled in my chest. Everything here was a monument to us. The shoe rack by the door was something we had built together on a lazy Sunday. The abstract canvas on the wall was covered in our messy, blended brushstrokes. Even the plush slippers on my feet were a custom pair Otto had ordered for me. I still remembered how smug he had looked when he gave them to me. “Summer, I’m doing all this so that if you ever think about leaving, you’ll realize no one else will ever treat you this well. You’re stuck with me.” “No other guy on this planet is going to make sure your feet stay warm.” But my gaze drifted from the slippers to the smart lock on the front door. I had bought it just last week, and it had been the catalyst for our final explosion. On the day of the installation, Otto had insisted on registering Hailey’s fingerprint. “Summer, just let Hailey register her print. It’ll make things easier for her when she comes over to hang out.” I had frozen, my chest tightening as I stared at him. “Then I want my best friend, Becca, to have a keycode too.” Otto’s face had instantly darkened. “No way. The lock only holds five registered prints. One for you, one for me, one for Hailey, and two for my parents. That’s it. It’s perfect.” A bitter, humorless laugh escaped me. “Otto, in this family dynamic of yours, where exactly does Hailey fit? Is she your second wife?” That was all it took. Otto slammed the door so hard the walls shook, leaving me behind. I didn’t chase after him because my finger had been caught in the frame when he slammed the door, ripping my acrylic nail clean off and leaving my nailbed bleeding and raw. But in Otto’s mind, my silence was just another round of our endless game of chicken. On Wednesday, he kicked me out of his car in the middle of a flash flood warning. On Friday, when I sent a brief text asking if he had eaten, he left me on read. An hour later, he posted a picture of a lavish steak dinner with the caption: [Funny how much brighter life gets the moment you finally cut out the dead weight.] And today, Sunday, my apology was met with a picture of him sleeping on Hailey’s shoulder. I knew exactly what he was doing. He was playing his usual power games, waiting for me to break, waiting for his ultimate victory. But I was done playing. There are no winners or losers in a relationship, only the one who cares more and the one who cares less. I used to be the one who cared more, which was why I had bowed my head ninety-nine times. Now, that love had been ground down to dust. I sighed, reached into a drawer, and began packing my passport and birth certificate. Suddenly, the front door clicked open. Otto walked in, his eyes dropping to the suitcase at my feet. His brow furrowed in immediate irritation. “Where do you think you’re going?” I noticed he was holding a small box from the bakery I had bookmarked on TikTok yesterday. But the gesture felt hollow. “Otto,” I said, my voice quiet and flat. “We’re done. I want a divorce.” “I’m not playing these games with you anymore.” The veins on Otto’s forehead bulged. He opened his mouth to snap at me, but a voice chimed in from the hallway behind him. “Oh, look at this. Are we moving out?” Hailey stepped into the entryway, a patronizing smirk on her face. “Otto, your girl really knows how to pull your strings, doesn’t she?” Otto’s mouth snapped shut. He shot me a cold, calculating look and sneered. “Fine. If you want to leave, delete your fingerprint from the lock first. And don’t bother coming back.” A wave of profound exhaustion washed over me. I knew what he was waiting for. He wanted to see tears, regret, and desperation. He wanted me to beg. I didn’t have the energy to fight him. My injured finger was still tightly bandaged, throbbing with a dull pain, but he didn’t even notice. I walked over to the smart lock to delete my data. As the machine emitted a sharp confirmation beep, Otto suddenly grabbed my arm and shoved me hard out the door. “Get the hell out! And don’t you dare come crawling back!” I lost my balance, falling hard onto the concrete corridor. My knees scraped against the rough ground, the sharp sting bringing hot tears to my eyes. A suffocating sense of injustice threatened to choke me, but I forced myself to stand, biting my lip until it bled, and walked away. Nobody is indispensable, especially a toxic partner who brings another woman into your home. After Becca helped me clean and bandage my scraped knees at her apartment, she sat back and looked at me with deep concern. “What’s the plan now, Summer?” I offered her a weak, tired smile. “I think I’m going back to Savannah. Back home.” Becca nodded in approval. “Honestly? That’s probably the best thing for you.” I bit my lip. “I just have to go back to Otto’s place one last time.” “For what?” “I need to get my cat, Joey.” When Becca and I returned to the apartment, it was Hailey who answered the door. She feigned surprise, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. “Oh, Summer, you’re back. Let me get you some tea. You really should have called ahead, the place is a bit of a mess.” I didn’t have the patience for her performance. “I’m just here for Joey.” Hearing my voice, my little orange tabby came sprinting from the living room, meowing loudly as he rubbed his head affectionately against my ankles. A flash of malice crossed Hailey’s eyes. She reached down, grabbed Joey roughly by his tail, and yanked him backward. “Actually, Otto bought the cat food last week, so technically he’s Otto’s. We’ll have to wait for him to decide.” “Don’t pull his tail like that!” I cried, stepping forward. “You’re hurting him!” Hailey let out a sharp scoff. “It’s just a dumb animal. It doesn’t feel anything.” She gave me a cruel, taunting smile. “See? He doesn’t mind.” With that, she swung her foot and kicked Joey hard in the ribs. The cat let out a painful screech, and without thinking, I lunged forward to push her away. “Stop it!” “Joey is my cat! Otto never cared about him! You have no right to touch him!” But before my hand could even brush Hailey’s shoulder, a hand seized me by my hair and threw me violently to the floor. Otto stood protectively in front of Hailey, his eyes flashing with fury as he glared down at me. “What the hell do you think you’re doing to her?” Joey lay on the floor a few feet away, panting heavily. I scrambled over to scoop him into my arms, glare icy with hatred. “Are you blind? She just kicked Joey!” The cat trembled in my arms, licking my fingers weakly. Otto’s expression shifted, a flicker of guilt crossing his face before his stubborn pride took over. “Fine,” he muttered. “Apologize to Hailey, and then I’ll apologize to you. We’ll call it even.” Even now, he was calculating. Always keeping score, always ensuring he didn’t lose an inch of ground to me. I stood up, cradling Joey close to my chest. “I don’t want your apology. We’re leaving.” Otto’s face darkened, and he stepped forward to grab my wrist. Terrified, Joey wriggled out of my arms and jumped to the floor, hissing defensively at Otto and Hailey. Hailey grabbed a heavy outdoor boot from the rack and flung it directly at the cat. “Get out of here, you little rat!” The heavy boot slammed near Joey, sending him into a panic. He bolted out the open door and down the stairwell, disappearing into the night. I tried to run after him, but Otto grabbed my shoulder, dragging me back. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a bizarre, twisted resentment. “Why didn’t you chase after me like that when I walked out?” “Is a stupid cat really more important to you than I am?” I didn’t have time for his ego. I shook off his grip with all the strength I had left. “Get away from me!” By the time I made it down to the street, Joey was gone. I searched the neighborhood for four agonizing hours. By the time the streetlights flickered on and the air turned freezing, there was still no sign of him. Just as despair began to take hold, my phone buzzed in my hand. It was a text from Otto. [New kitty.] Below the text was a link to a TikTok video. I clicked it. The video showed Otto and Hailey sitting on our old sofa, laughing brightly as they cuddled a sleek Maine Coon kitten. The caption read: [Meet the new Joey.] I had always been a passionate, hot-tempered person, but in that moment, a strange, hollow numbness washed over me. The sheer malice of it left me cold. A toxic cocktail of hatred, grief, and exhaustion bubbled up inside me. For a split second, I wanted to find a weapon and go back up there to end them both. But instead, I collapsed onto the curb and sobbed until my throat was raw. When Becca finally found me, the sun was beginning to rise. My eyes were so swollen I could barely see. She wrapped her coat around my shivering shoulders, immediately calling a local pet rescue group while cursing Otto under her breath. “Why didn’t you call me? You just let them treat you like this? Are you out of your mind?” I buried my face in her shoulder, my voice cracking. “I’m so tired, Becca. I can’t win against her. I never could.” I had never stood a chance against Hailey. She was the childhood sweetheart, the keeper of countless inside jokes and decades of shared memories. Otto would always choose her. The passenger seat of his car belonged to her. His pinned chats belonged to her. His priority list always had her at the top. And now, he was hers too. I didn’t care about Otto anymore. I just wanted my cat back. By the time we got back to Becca’s apartment, I was burning up with a severe fever. I drifted in and out of a restless sleep, shivering violently under the blankets. Sometime in the afternoon, my phone buzzed with a message from Otto. [I found your cat.] The words shocked me awake. Forcing myself upright despite the dizziness, I threw on a jacket and dragged myself to the address he sent, a private room at the Velvet Lounge. The moment I pushed the door open, the deafening music and drunken cheers hit me like a physical blow. “Man, Otto is a genius! Five words and the ex comes running across town!” “Incredible! She’s totally wrapped around your finger, man!” “Never let a woman keep you on a leash!” I ignored the jeering crowd and looked straight at Otto, silently praying he had a shred of humanity left. “Where is Joey?” He grinned smugly, taking a slow sip of his drink. “I don’t know.” He reached under the table and pulled out the Maine Coon from his video. “But look at this one. Same breed, basically looks identical.” “Stop making a scene. Apologize to Hailey, and I’ll let you keep this one.” “We can even call her Joey.” Hailey giggled from his side. “Actually, let’s call her Joey the Second.” Tears of sheer humiliation spilled over my cheeks. Otto smiled, looking immensely proud of himself. “Look at that, she’s crying tears of joy.” Gathering every ounce of strength left in my fever-ravaged body, I stepped forward and slapped him across the face as hard as I could. “I despise you, Otto.” Otto’s head snapped to the side. He froze, his hand slowly rising to touch his reddening cheek, staring at me in utter shock. Hailey lunged forward and shoved me hard, sending me crashing against the edge of the table. “Who the hell do you think you are, Summer? How dare you lay a hand on him! He went out of his way to get you a new cat, and this is how you act?” I slowly hauled myself up, my vision swimming, but my voice was deadly calm. “I act this way because I hate him.” Without another word, I turned and walked out of the room. But as I reached the end of the dimly lit corridor, my knees gave out, and the world went black. When I opened my eyes, I was lying in a hospital bed. A doctor in scrubs was reviewing my chart, looking at me with a stern, disapproving expression. “You’re in the early stages of pregnancy and running a dangerously high fever. Collapsing like that in public is incredibly risky. What were you thinking?” I stared at her, the words failing to register. “I’m… what?” The doctor softened her tone slightly. “You’re pregnant. About four weeks along.” Becca, who had rushed over the moment the hospital called, squeezed my hand tightly, her eyes filled with worry. “Summer… oh my god, what are we going to do? Otto… how could this happen now?” I let out a cold, empty laugh and shook my head. “It doesn’t change anything. I’m not keeping it.” I looked out the window at the gray sky. “I am never going back to him. Being with him is slow torture. I refuse to be that stupid again.” Becca bit her lip, her eyes flashing with anger. “No! An abortion is a serious medical procedure. He needs to know what he’s caused. He needs to take responsibility.” “Becca, don’t—” But it was too late. Her fingers were already flying across her screen. [Summer is pregnant.] I leaned my head back against the pillow. “It won’t matter. Even if he begs, I’ll never forgive him.” A minute later, Otto’s name flashed on my screen. I answered, and his slurred, mocking voice filled the quiet room. “Wow, Summer. Are you really this desperate? Is this the best you can do to win an argument?” “Do you think a fake pregnancy is your ultimate trump card?” “Do you honestly think that if you make up some lie about a baby, I’ll crawl back to you and beg for forgiveness?” “Let me tell you something, it means absolutely nothing to me.” “It’s just like your stupid cat. I don’t care if it lives or dies.” “Because I don’t care about you.” “Go ahead and get your fake abortion. Make sure to send me the medical bill so I can laugh in your face. I, Otto, will never lose to you.” The line went dead. Becca turned her head away, her shoulders shaking as she wept silently. But I didn’t shed a single tear. I had run out of tears a long time ago. I looked at the nurse entering the room. “Please help me schedule the procedure.” On the day of the appointment, as I sat in the cold waiting room, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Otto. [Ahem. It’s my birthday today.] [You know where to find me. Velvet Lounge, Suite 40.] A cold, mocking smile touched my lips. I typed back a quick reply. [I’ll make sure your gift arrives on time.] Becca looked at me, her expression a mix of pity and concern. I gently patted her hand. “Let’s return his property to him.” The procedure itself felt like an eternity, yet it was over in minutes. The cold metal instruments sent a sharp ache through my abdomen, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the numbness in my chest. When it was over, I stared at the sterile white ceiling, feeling lighter and emptier than I ever had before. I looked at Becca and forced a faint smile. “It’s finally over, right?” Two hours later, after my fever had subsided and I had regained some strength, I packed my remaining belongings and headed to the train station. Before boarding the express train to Savannah, I took one last look at the city skyline. When we were together, I had loved him more, so I was always the one to back down, regardless of who was right. But now, the love was gone. I didn’t care about who was right or wrong. I didn’t care about winning or losing. None of it mattered anymore. Over at the Velvet Lounge, inside the loud, chaotic atmosphere of VIP Suite 40, Otto stared at his phone, typing out a message. [Are you almost here?] But when he hit send, a bright red exclamation mark appeared next to the bubble. Hailey noticed his sour expression and patted his arm reassuringly. “Don’t sweat it, Otto. Didn’t she say she was sending a gift?” “She’s just trying to make you anxious. Think about it, she was desperate enough to lie about being pregnant just to get you to apologize. There’s nothing she won’t do to get your attention.” Otto’s tense shoulders relaxed. He knocked back a shot of whiskey, his smug smirk returning. “Who cares about her anyway? If she doesn’t get down on her knees and apologize to me tonight, we are never getting back together.” Right then, a firm knock sounded on the suite door. A delivery courier stood in the doorway, holding a sealed thermal box. “Delivery for Otto? I need a signature from a Summer Davis.”

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1 The first time we were stranded on Mount Rainier’s icy slopes, Jamie ignored my bleeding leg and clipped the only harness to Luna. “She fears heights,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “You’re stronger.” The second time, a mudslide hit, and he gave her the lone oxygen mask. His teammate excused it, citing her weak lungs. Time and again, he left the safest path to her, assuming I’d endure. During the ninth crisis, a mine collapsed, trapping us in separate tunnels. Dispatch demanded a choice. “Save Luna first,” he said instantly. Over the radio, I asked, “And me?” His tone softened, practiced. “You’re trained, Annie. Hold on. I’ll return after her.” I laughed silently and cut the line. Jamie didn’t know this was a classified drill I’d staged. I’d needed to see if he’d ever choose me when survival hung in the balance. … I looked down at the digital watch on my wrist. It had taken Jamie exactly two seconds to make his choice. That was faster than any of the previous eight times. The heavy silence in my headset was broken by the hesitant voice of the chief commander. “Captain Davis, do we proceed with the simulation?” Leaning my head back against the cold, damp rock wall, I spoke quietly. “No.” “Call it off. End the drill.” After a brief burst of static, a loud automated announcement echoed through the entire cavern system. “The joint emergency rescue simulation has concluded. All units, stand down and remain at your stations.” Within thirty seconds, the emergency floodlights flickered to life, bathing the dark tunnel in a blinding, sterile glow. The crew quickly moved the heavy foam boulders off my legs. I pulled off my helmet, shaking out my hair, and walked out through the secondary exit. Right at the threshold of the staging area, I ran straight into Jamie, who was carrying Luna out of the simulated debris field. Luna’s arms were wrapped tightly around his neck, her face buried in his chest. Only when the echoing broadcast repeated did she slowly lift her head. “A simulation?” she whispered, blinking. Jamie stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes locked onto me, completely unharmed, and then drifted to the painted foam rocks behind us. Slowly, the blood drained from his face, replaced by a dark, simmering anger. “Annie, did you lie to me?” I didn’t answer. Luna slid down from his arms, her eyes instantly filling with tears as she looked at me. “Annie, did you seriously trap us in separate tunnels just to force Jamie into making a choice? How could you play with his feelings like that?” Her voice wasn’t loud, but in the quiet of the cavern, it carried perfectly to every rescue worker standing nearby. The atmosphere in the room turned instantly tense. Jamie glared at me, his fists clenching at his sides. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that was?” I looked around at the brightly lit safety exit, marked with highly visible reflective tape. “Dangerous how, exactly?” “Every single collapse point was engineered for absolute safety. The boulders are made of lightweight foam, the communication lines were fully secure, and the medical team was waiting right outside the door. The only real danger here was you, deciding to bypass protocol to prioritize a civilian.” Jamie ground his teeth together, his jaw tight. “Luna has a history of severe asthma. If she panics, she could suffocate. What was I supposed to do?” A dry, bitter laugh bubbled up in my chest. “Did she leave her inhaler behind?” Luna’s face turned incredibly pale. Jamie’s eyes darted down to her utility belt. The standard-issue portable oxygen cylinder was clipped right there, its safety seal completely intact, untouched. A collective murmur went through the watching crew. For a few seconds, Jamie stood there in stunned silence, but he still stepped forward, keeping himself positioned firmly in front of her. “She was terrified, Annie. She probably forgot it was there. You’re a trained professional, why do you always have to hold a grudge against her?” There it was again. That familiar, exhausting line. Because I was a professional. Because I had training, he could leave me in a freezing blizzard while he rescued Luna. Because I had experience, he could push her onto the rescue helicopter during a flash flood and leave me to tread freezing water, waiting for the next turn. No matter if I was injured, freezing, or suffocating, he always assumed I would find a way to survive. Looking at this man whom I had loved desperately for seven long years, I felt a sudden, profound sense of detachment. He felt like a complete stranger. “Jamie.” “In your mind, she is the only one who ever needs saving. Is that it?” He pinched the bridge of his nose, looking incredibly frustrated. “I never said that.” “But that is exactly what you do. Every single time.” “Because you can handle it!” his voice finally cracked, rising in anger. “Annie, you are the most decorated rescue captain in this region. You’ve survived avalanches. You’ve fought forest fires. You’ve pulled dozens of people out of collapsed structures. And Luna? She’s just a wedding photographer.” “Why do you keep forcing me to make these ridiculous, childish choices?” “Because I was supposed to marry you,” I said softly. The entire cavern fell into a dead, suffocating silence. Our wedding was scheduled for exactly three months from now. The invitations had already been sent, the wedding dress had been altered three times, and I had personally drafted the emergency contingency plans for the venue. But today, I finally understood something. Who a person chooses to save in a disaster has nothing to do with who they claim to love. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small, silver rescue whistle. It was the gift I had given him the day he joined the civilian rescue force. On the back, we had engraved a promise. In step, in retreat, in life, in death. I pressed the cold metal into his palm, closing his fingers over it. “The wedding is off,” I said quietly. Jamie blinked, looking entirely lost. “What did you say?” “I said, the wedding is off.” I slipped the diamond ring off my left ring finger and placed it on top of his closed hand. “I’ll contact the real estate agent tomorrow to put our house on the market. Don’t worry about the venue deposits, I’ll cover them. And I’ll handle the calls to the guests myself.” Jamie’s grip tightened around the ring, his face turning a dangerous shade of red. “You’re breaking off our engagement over a damn simulation?” “It’s not because of this simulation,” I said. “It’s because of the nine times before it.” “Every single one of those times was an actual emergency!” He took a step closer, grabbing my wrist. “Annie, I know I lost my temper just now. But you know my history. You know what happened to me.” “Thomas died saving my life. I promised him on his deathbed that I would look after Luna for the rest of her life. I can’t just stand by and watch her get hurt.” I looked down at his hand gripping my wrist, then slowly looked up into his eyes. “And what about me?” “When I’m the one in danger, do you ever feel a single second of fear?” Jamie swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. “You’re different.” “How?” The words tumbled out of his mouth without a second thought. “Annie, I trust you more than anyone else on this planet. Even if the entire world collapsed, I know you’d find a way to crawl out alive.” I stared at him, completely speechless. I had never realized that being suffocated by someone’s absolute faith in you could feel so incredibly heavy. I slowly, deliberately pried his fingers off my wrist, one by one. “Jamie, I am not immortal.” “I was just too terrified to tell you every time I almost died.” His face froze, his expression turning completely blank. “What do you mean?” I didn’t offer any explanation. I turned on my heel and walked toward the command center. The base director was waiting for me inside, a sealed document resting on the desk. “The transfer request from the Great North International Rescue Center has been approved,” he said, pushing the file toward me. “You leave in a month. It’s a three-year contract. Are you absolutely sure about this, Annie?” I picked up the pen and signed my name on the final line without hesitation. “I’m sure.” The director let out a long sigh. “You turned down this assignment twice because of Jamie. What changed?” I stared at my signature, the ink drying black on the crisp white paper. “I finally grew up,” I said. “Some people are never going to look back, no matter how long you stand there waiting.” A sudden clatter sounded outside the glass door. I looked up. Jamie was standing on the other side of the glass, his helmet rolling across the floor at his feet. He had heard everything. “You’re leaving?” he asked, his voice muffled through the glass as he pushed the door open. I closed the folder, slipping it into my bag. “Yes.” “When did you decide this?” “Six months ago, right after the rescue on Mount Rainier. The center reached out to me with the offer.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” I looked at him, feeling an overwhelming wave of exhaustion. “Because back then, you told me we were getting married. You said you didn’t want us to be apart right after the wedding. So, I turned them down.” “The second offer came right after the valley mudslide.” “But Luna was too traumatized to be left alone, so you took her abroad to recover for a month. Meanwhile, I was lying in a hospital bed undergoing two consecutive debridement surgeries on my infected leg. So, I turned them down again.” Jamie’s lips parted, his face turning entirely pale. “You were hospitalized?” “Yes.” “Was… was it serious?” “A deep puncture wound to my left thigh. It got severely infected.” “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I offered him a sad, small smile. “Because you left strict orders with the entire team. You told them Luna was in a fragile mental state, and that no one was to disturb you with minor issues from the base.” Jamie stood frozen, his eyes wide as he stared at me, looking utterly lost. It took him a long time to find his voice. “I… I didn’t know.” “Now you do,” I said, stepping past him. “But it doesn’t matter anymore.” The news of our canceled wedding spread through our social circles like wildfire. Jamie’s parents arrived at the rescue base late that very evening. The moment his mother saw me, she let out a sharp sigh of disapproval. “Annie, Jamie is just a loyal boy. You can’t expect him to turn his back on a family obligation. Thomas gave his life to save our son, it is only right that Jamie looks after Luna.” “You’re a rescue captain, surely you understand duty better than anyone?” I poured her a glass of water and set it on the table. “Mrs. Vance, I’ve never stopped him from looking after Luna.” “I’m just choosing not to marry him.” Her expression shifted, a flicker of panic crossing her face. “You’ve been together for seven years, Annie! You can’t just throw all that away over a misunderstanding. Think of our family’s reputation, the invitations have already been sent!” So, it was about their reputation. His father sat in the corner, his face grim. “Marriage requires compromise, Annie. Jamie saved Luna because she is physically weak. Using a safety drill to test your fiancé is a childish, manipulative game.” I nodded slowly. “You’re right,” I said. “And now that I have my answer, I’m not throwing a tantrum, and I’m not asking him to change. I’m simply walking away. Is that not compromise enough?” His mother was left completely speechless. Jamie stood by the window, his eyes bloodshot, dark circles bruising the skin beneath them. He looked as though he hadn’t slept in days. Only after his parents finally left did he drag his feet over to my desk. “We can postpone the wedding,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “We can do it after you get back from the Great North.” I didn’t look up from packing my gear into my duffel bag. “I didn’t say postpone, Jamie. I said cancel.” “Annie!” He finally snapped, his voice tight with suppressed rage. “What do you want from me? Do you want me to cut Luna out of my life completely? Do you want me to leave her to drown, just so I can live with the guilt for the rest of my life?” I set down the climbing rope I was coiling and looked him in the eye. “You don’t have to do anything for me.” “You can look after her every day. You can take her to her doctor appointments, take her on vacations, and save her first in every disaster. That is your choice.” “And my choice is to leave.” Jamie’s eyes burned with a mixture of anger and hurt. “You’re just using this transfer to punish me, to force me into choosing you. Annie, you used to be so different.” I paused. “Different how?” “You were rational. Calm. You always saw the bigger picture.” He stepped closer, his voice softening into a plea. “You would never let petty jealousy ruin what we have.” A sudden memory flashed through my mind, vivid and painful. It was that first night on Mount Rainier. A jagged piece of ice had sliced a deep gash into my right thigh. As he carried Luna down the mountain, Jamie had looked back at me over his shoulder. “Annie, hang tight! I’ll get her to the medical tent and come right back for you!” I had waited in that howling blizzard for forty-seven minutes. Only later did I find out that because Luna was crying and hyperventilating, he had ridden with her all the way to the city hospital. By the time my team found me, my body temperature had dropped to dangerous levels, and I was severely hypothermic. During the mudslide, when he gave her the oxygen mask, I had inhaled a massive amount of toxic dust. My lungs got severely infected, and I coughed up blood for two weeks. During the flash flood, he gave her his life vest. During the forest fire, he left the last bottle of water for her. During the cable car failure, he pushed her into the first evacuation pod. When we lost signal in the wilderness, he used the final bar of battery on the satellite phone to call a specialist, just to ask what dosage of anxiety medication Luna should take. When the frozen lake cracked, he pulled her out of the freezing water, completely failing to notice that I had slipped into a adjacent crevice. During the aftershock, he shielded her with his body, leaving me to evacuate the remaining casualties in a collapsing building alone. Through all of it, I had never complained. When my teammates criticized him, I had even made excuses for him. Because I was the captain. Because I had to focus on the big picture. I had stayed silent for so long that he had forgotten that I was human, too. He had forgotten that I was never obligated to endure any of it. “Jamie,” I said, staring at his face. “You never loved the rational Annie.” “You just loved the Annie who would never leave, no matter how many times you abandoned her.” “But she died during that ninth collapse.” A week before my scheduled departure, our base received an urgent distress call. A massive landslide had occurred upstream of the Clearwater Canyon. A tour bus carrying over twenty passengers was trapped on a crumbling ledge above the raging river. The rain was pouring down in relentless sheets. As our primary geological consultant, Jamie joined our dispatch team. But just as we were loading the trucks, Luna showed up, carrying a heavy camera bag. “I’m the official documentary photographer for this mission,” she said, flashing a media pass. “The public channel is covering this rescue, and I have full clearance to document the operation.” I looked at Jamie. He quickly avoided my gaze, muttering under his breath, “She’ll stay on the perimeter, Annie. She won’t get close to the danger zone.” I didn’t waste my breath arguing. When we reached the canyon, the situation was far worse than we had anticipated. The tour bus was wedged precariously between two shifting rock slabs, suspended directly over a roaring torrent of muddy water. Six children inside the bus were injured, the youngest only seven years old. I hooked my harness to the main line and rappelled down to begin the extraction. Jamie remained at the staging area above, monitoring the geological sensors. By four in the afternoon, the rain intensified into a torrential downpour. Jamie’s voice crackled through my earpiece, sharp with panic. “The eastern rock slab is shifting rapidly! All units, evacuate the gorge immediately!” Just as I secured the safety line around the last child, a piercing shriek echoed from the cliffs above. “Jamie!” Luna had bypassed the safety barrier to get a dramatic close-up shot of the sliding earth. The ground beneath her feet crumbled, and she began sliding down the muddy slope toward the sheer drop of the cliff. Without a single thought for his post, Jamie dropped his instruments and lunged forward to grab her. In his panic, his foot caught the data cables, ripping them from the main console. Instantly, the command center lost all real-time telemetry on the shifting mountain. At that exact moment, a loud crack echoed from the underside of the bus. “Captain, the support beam is snapping! The bus is going down!” my teammate screamed. I didn’t have time to look up. I shoved the child into the arms of the climbing specialist above me and lunged back into the tilting cabin of the bus. The driver was still trapped, his leg pinned beneath the crumpled dashboard. “Captain, leave me!” the driver screamed, rain splattering his face. “This thing is going down!” I swung my rescue axe, slamming it into the distorted metal frame. “Shut up!” “We don’t leave people behind.” With another deafening groan of metal, the bus began its final slide into the raging waters below. Using every ounce of leverage I had left, I clicked my spare carabiner onto the driver’s harness and shoved him out the shattered windshield. The next second, the bus broke free, plunging into the abyss. My safety line snapped taut, the violent jerk slamming me hard against the jagged stone wall of the canyon. A sickening crack echoed in my ears as a blinding wave of pain exploded in my right shoulder. “Annie!” The comms channel went into absolute chaos. Suspended over the raging waters, my right arm hung completely useless at my side. The dispatcher’s voice screamed through the radio, frantic. “Jamie! Captain Davis’s anchor point is slipping! You’re closest to her position! Get down there and reinforce the line!” After a few agonizing seconds of static, Jamie’s voice came through, tight and strained. “Luna fractured her ankle. She can’t move. I have to get her to the medical tent first.” The dispatcher let out a furious roar. “Her anchor point is going to fail in less than two minutes! Let someone else carry her!” “Annie can hold on,” Jamie replied, his voice shaking. “She’s strong.” I closed my eyes. This was the tenth time. I couldn’t believe that even after the ninth, there was still a tenth. Cold rain lashed against my face as the metal piton slowly ground its way out of the crumbling rock face. I couldn’t wait for him. Using only my left hand, I reached for my gear loops, pulled out a backup piton, and slammed it into a narrow crack in the rock. I struck it once. Then twice. The impact sent a jarring shockwave up my arm, splitting the skin of my palm. Hot blood began to mix with the rain, flowing down my wrist. On the third strike, the original anchor point failed completely. I plummeted straight down. At the very last second, the backup safety line snapped taut, stopping my fall with a violent jolt. My injured shoulder slammed into the rock wall once more. Before darkness claimed my vision, the last thing I heard was the dispatcher screaming through my earpiece. “Jamie! She’s fallen! Annie has fallen!”

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1 After my sixth failed attempt at demanding a divorce, Jimmy set three rules. If I followed them, he promised he would finally sign the papers. First, I had to drive the college girl he was sponsoring to and from her classes every single day. Second, half of my monthly paycheck had to be deducted to buy her expensive health supplements. Third, I was never allowed to question what time he came home at night. I nodded in agreement without a single word of protest, a stark contrast to the screaming matches we used to have. Every afternoon, I parked my car at the campus gates right on time, politely opening the passenger door for his precious little princess. On payday, I handed over the bank transfer receipts without him even asking. Even on the day I was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer, I didn’t bother calling him; I signed the DNR and treatment refusal forms all by myself. When Jimmy finally found out and rushed to the hospital, all he found was my signed refusal-of-treatment form. Red-veined eyes wide with disbelief, he grabbed my shoulders and shook me, his voice raw. “Susan! Are you out of your mind? Since when did you become so morbid?” “You used to be terrified of pain, terrified of dying! Why are you refusing chemo now? Why?!” I lacked the strength to answer. Instead, I simply slid a signed divorce agreement across the bedside table toward him. In my mind, the cold, mechanical voice of the System chimed on schedule: [Time remaining: 72 hours. The Host will soon be liberated.] … Jimmy’s shock lasted all of three seconds. In the next moment, the phone in his pocket chimed. It was a custom, high-priority ringtone, one I had begged him for years to set for me. He had always refused, but now, that exclusive ringtone belonged solely to Emma. Without a second thought, Jimmy let go of my shoulders and swiped to answer. “Jimmy…” Emma’s whimpering voice filtered through the speaker, gratingly loud in the quiet hospital room. “Is Susan still mad at me? Everyone at school is calling me a homewrecker who ruined your marriage. I don’t want to live anymore…” Jimmy’s face went pale, then hardened. The faint trace of panic from a moment ago vanished, replaced by an icy, deep-seated disgust. He whipped his head around, glaring at me. “Are you happy now, Susan?” “To force Emma out, you actually paid off the doctors to fake this!” “Fabricating a sick lie like terminal stomach cancer… you are utterly repulsive!” Resting my back against the thin hospital pillow, the burning agony in my abdomen made every breath feel like swallowing shards of glass. I slowly lifted my heavy eyelids, looking calmly at the man I had loved for ten long years. “The diagnosis is real.” “Shut up!” Jimmy spat in rage, snatching the medical chart and the divorce papers from the table. With a series of sharp, violent rips, he shredded the documents into tiny pieces right in front of the nurse. The paper confetti fluttered through the air, raining down onto my pale face. “A pathological liar like you isn’t even worth a single hair on Emma’s head!” “Get up! You’re coming with me to apologize to her!” He reached down and violently ripped the IV line from the back of my hand. Blood welled up instantly. The nurse gasped and stepped forward to stop him, but Jimmy shoved her aside. “Back off! Don’t get between a man and his wife!” Ignoring my frail, trembling frame, he dragged me off the bed and out of the ward. He hauled me all the way to his car, throwing me into the passenger seat and slamming the door. The engine roared as he sped toward the house of my so-called family. The moment we entered, the rich aroma of premium bird’s nest soup filled my nose. My mother, Martha, was holding a porcelain bowl of the top-tier delicacy, blowing on it gently. It had been bought with every last cent of my previous month’s paycheck. Seeing Jimmy drag me through the door, Martha’s eyes lit up. She quickly set the bowl down and hurried over with a beaming smile. “Oh, Jimmy, dear! You’re here.” But when she turned her gaze to me, her warm expression froze, twisting instantly into a mask of bitter malice. Slap! Her hand connected with my cheek, a sharp, stinging blow. My ears rang, and the metallic taste of blood bloomed in my mouth. “You ungrateful brat! How dare you show your face here?” Martha jabbed a finger toward my nose, screeching. “Emma is such an angel, and you just have to make her life miserable, don’t you?” “How did I ever give birth to such a malicious creature!” My father, Richard, sat on the sofa, casually puffing on a cigar. He didn’t even spare me a glance, only looking at Jimmy out of the corner of his eye. “Jimmy, Susan has always been difficult. Don’t let her get to you.” “Still, Emma’s twentieth birthday is coming up.” Richard blew a lazy ring of smoke, finally shifting his eyes to me. “Susan, as her older sister, you need to show some generosity. Sign that downtown condo over to Emma as a birthday gift.” I looked up at the two people who had raised me. The agony in my stomach flared, but it was nothing compared to the icy numbness spreading through my chest. That condo was the very place Jimmy had bought when he proposed to me, registered solely in my name. Now, they wanted me to hand it over to Emma on a silver platter. I turned my gaze to Jimmy. He stood there with his hands in his pockets, looking down at me with absolute derision. “Why are you looking at me?” “You owe this to Emma. Just sign the damn papers.” He pulled a pre-drafted property transfer deed from his briefcase and tossed it in front of me. I didn’t shed a single tear. I was simply too exhausted to fight back anymore. In my mind, the System’s cold prompt chimed on schedule: [System Notification: 60 hours remaining.] My hand trembled violently as I picked up the pen and wrote my name on the dotted line. I pushed the document back to Jimmy, my voice barely a whisper. “It’s done. Can I leave now?” Jimmy stared at the signature, seemingly caught off guard by how quickly I had yielded. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, followed by a mocking sneer. “Stop acting like a martyr.” “Get out. Don’t ruin Emma’s mood.” Leaning against the wall, I dragged myself out of that suffocating house, one agonizing step at a time. The wind outside was biting, slicing right through my thin hospital gown. I hailed a cab and headed back to the suburban villa I shared with Jimmy. The pain in my stomach felt like a dozen dull knives twisting inside me. I stumbled into the master bathroom, frantically searching for the expensive imported painkillers I had spent my last savings on. They were the only thing that could grant me a shred of dignity in my final hours. I pulled the drawer open, but the bottle was gone. “Looking for this, Susan?” A sweet, cloying voice sounded behind me. Emma was standing there, wearing my favorite silk robe, casually tossing the small white bottle in the air. She leaned against the doorframe, her smile wide and seemingly innocent. “I accidentally opened your package, thinking it was mine. What kind of treats are you hiding from me, big sister?” She tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with pure malice. “Are you trying to poison yourself to make Jimmy feel guilty, or are you planning to poison me so you can keep him all to yourself?” Cold sweat poured down my forehead. Clutching my stomach, I weakly reached out toward her. “Give it back…” “It’s my medication… please…” Emma giggled, covering her mouth. “Medication? You’re such a drama queen, Susan. But if it’s dangerous medicine, I really shouldn’t let you abuse it.” She stepped over to the sink and unscrewed the cap. “Oops. My hand slipped.” She let out a faux gasp. A shower of white pills clattered into the basin, and she flicked the faucet on. A rush of cold water instantly swept my precious, expensive medicine straight down the drain. “No!” I threw myself forward, desperately clawing at the drain to salvage what was left. The water was freezing, and the pills dissolved almost instantly, turning into a milky, useless slurry that slipped away. I slumped over the counter, my fingernails scraping against the metal drain guard until they bled. “Emma! Are you insane?!” I screamed, the last of my composure shattering. Instantly, Emma’s smug face transformed. Her eyes welled with tears, and she began to sob. “Susan, why did you push me? You’re scaring me…” She let herself slip to the floor, weeping pitifully. Right on cue, the front door clicked open. Jimmy strode in, taking in the scene of Emma crying on the bathroom floor. “Emma! What happened?” He rushed over, pulling her protectively into his arms. “Jimmy, she…” Emma buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking. “I only wanted to help her tidy up the bathroom, but she just snapped. She shoved me… Does she hate me that much?” Jimmy’s head snapped up, his eyes burning with fury as he glared at me. “Susan! Do you have a death wish?!” He stood up, lunged forward, and kicked me hard in the stomach. Ugh! The force threw me backward, my spine colliding hard with the cold bathroom tiles. My already failing stomach ruptured under the impact, and it felt as though my internal organs were being torn to shreds. I curled into a tight ball on the freezing floor, unable to even draw enough breath to scream. Jimmy looked down at me with pure disgust, as if I were nothing but a pile of rotting garbage. “You really will stoop to any pathetic low just to get my attention!” “She was only trying to help, and you laid your hands on her?” He turned around and swept Emma into his arms. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s get out of here. Let the crazy bitch rot.” Shielding her, he walked out of the house without a single backward glance. The heavy front door slammed shut, echoing through the empty villa. I lay on the cold tiles, my vision blurring into darkness. Memories of my childhood flashed before my eyes. The year I ranked first in the city exams, I had run home, proudly clutching my report card. My parents hadn’t even looked at it; they were too busy fussing over Emma, who had barely scratched her finger. “Who cares about your grades? Can you eat them? Don’t you see your sister is bleeding?!” Then, I met Jimmy. He had once pulled me into his arms, gently wiping away my tears. “Susan, I’ll be your family from now on. I promise I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.” But now, the very man who had sworn to protect me had become the executioner, grinding me into the dirt alongside my family. The copper taste of blood rushed up my throat. [System Notification: 48 hours remaining.] I stared at the dark pool of blood on the floor and closed my eyes. Down in the drain, the faint residue of the white pills slowly dissolved into nothing. I lost track of time lying on that cold floor. Eventually, a violent spasm of agony jolted me back to consciousness. Dragging my broken body, I crawled out of the bathroom and hoisted myself onto the living room sofa. The pain in my abdomen had surpassed any human limit, and it felt as if my insides were being put through a meat grinder. Cough… I bent over double, hacking up a thick spray of dark, stagnant blood. The deep crimson fluid stained the cream-colored wool rug, a gruesome, undeniable contrast. “Ah!” A sharp shriek pierced the silence of the house. Emma had come back; I hadn’t even heard her enter. Standing at the base of the stairs, she stared at me as I choked on my own blood. Instead of calling for an ambulance, she dramatically covered her eyes. “Blood! Oh my god, that’s disgusting!” “I can’t stand the sight of blood! You’re doing this on purpose to scare me!” She squealed, then fluttered her eyelids and elegantly fainted onto the carpeted stairs. Jimmy rushed out of the study. Seeing Emma slumped on the stairs, his face paled. “Emma!” Without even glancing at the pool of dark blood near me, he stepped over it and swept Emma into his arms. “Hold on, sweetie. I’m taking you to the hospital!” He carried her toward the door. As he passed the sofa, he hesitated for a fraction of a second. With blood coating my chin, I weakly reached a trembling hand toward him. “Jimmy… please… help me…” He recoiled in disgust, stepping back as if I were a plague-ridden corpse. “Susan, this desperate attention-seeking is getting pathetic.” “Coughing up fake blood just for sympathy? Do you really think I’m that stupid?” With a harsh sneer, he carried Emma out into the cool night air. Bang. The front door shut. Then came the heavy, metallic sound of a deadbolt turning twice. Click. He had locked me in, cutting off my absolute last chance at survival. My hand fell limp, dropping back onto the blood-soaked cushions. Summoning the last of my strength, I fumbled for my phone to dial 911. But when I opened my banking app, a stark white notification popped up on the screen: [Error: Your accounts have been frozen.] I froze. I tried every single card, even my health insurance account; every single one of them was blocked. Jimmy had cut off my finances entirely. Just then, the screen lit up with an incoming call. It was Martha. Like a drowning person catching a stray branch, I swiped to answer. “Mom… please help me… it hurts so much…” But there was no warmth on the other end, only a shrill, demanding screech. “Susan! Why haven’t you sent Emma her monthly allowance yet?!” “Do you have any idea how stressed she is because of your childish behavior?” I gasped for air, the agony too intense for coherent words. “I’m… I’m dying…” Martha let out a cold, mocking laugh. “Dying? A selfish parasite like you is too stubborn to die!” “You’re just faking it to guilt us!” “No wonder Jimmy is disgusted with you and locked you up.” “Go ahead and rot. Nobody cares anyway!” Beep. Beep. Beep. She hung up. I curled up on the blood-soaked couch, the phone slipping from my fingers and clattering to the floor. The entire world fell into a terrifying, suffocating silence. Only the System’s cold countdown echoed in my mind. [System Notification: 24 hours remaining.] I watched the sky outside bleed from gray into a deep, pitch black. The pain in my chest had gone numb, replaced by a dull, hollow ache. I could feel my life force slowly seeping out with every labored breath. The deadbolt on the front door remained locked tight. Outside, the distant city lights flickered, warm and full of life. Countdown: 4 hours remaining. A social media notification lit up my phone screen. It was an update from Jimmy. He had rented out the most exclusive rooftop restaurant in the city. Beyond the massive floor-to-ceiling windows lay a glittering skyline. Emma wore a custom haute couture gown and a delicate tiara, looking like a pampered princess. Jimmy stood beside her, his eyes filled with adoration as he clasped a multi-million dollar diamond necklace around her throat. The caption read: “Happy 20th birthday to my little princess. Congratulations on securing your spot in the Ivy League graduate program.” I stared at the screen, my lips twitching into a grim, bloody smile. Ivy League graduate program? Jimmy had bought that admission spot with a massive corporate donation. In the corner of the photo, I saw my parents. Richard and Martha were beaming, bragging to everyone about how successful their younger daughter was and what an incredible partner she had found. There they were, basked in luxury and celebration, while I lay locked inside a dark, empty villa, writhing on the cold hardwood floor in agonizing pain. My fingernails clawed at the expensive wood, leaving deep, bloody gouges. Several of my nails tore away completely, but I couldn’t even feel the pain in my fingers anymore. My chest felt completely crushed, and every breath brought the hot, metallic taste of blood. I was dying. With the last shred of my strength, my trembling fingers dialed Jimmy’s number. This was my final plea for mercy. It rang and rang. Just as I was about to give up, the line clicked open. “Jimmy…” My voice was barely a thread of wind. “It hurts so much… please… save me…” The other end fell quiet for a second. Then, a wave of loud laughter erupted. Jimmy had put the call on speaker. Every guest at the party heard my desperate, pathetic plea. “Oh, Susan is such a good actress,” Emma’s sweet, mocking voice chimed in. “She just has to try and steal the spotlight on my birthday. That’s so mean.” Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. “Honestly, Jimmy, your wife’s jealousy is getting ridiculous.” “Seriously. Today is Emma’s big day. She has no class.” Jimmy let out a soft, mocking chuckle, his voice dripping with icy contempt. “Susan, the ‘boy who cried wolf’ routine is getting old.” “If you want to die, do it somewhere else. Don’t ruin Emma’s birthday.” Click. Dial tone. He hung up. The screen flickered in the dark living room for a second, then went entirely black. Staring at the lifeless phone, a single tear slipped down my cheek. It fell into the pooling blood on the floor, dissolving into the dark crimson stain. I stopped fighting. I lay quietly on the freezing wood, feeling my body temperature drop degree by degree. It was so cold. [System Notification: 0 hours remaining.] [Host has successfully exited this world.] The System’s voice finally softened, sounding almost warm. My soul floated upward, light and free, leaving behind that gaunt, blood-covered shell of a body. The next morning, nursing a heavy hangover, Jimmy unlocked the front door and pushed it open. “Susan! What kind of stunt were you trying to pull last night—” His voice cut off instantly. A heavy, metallic stench of fresh blood and the unmistakable scent of death rushed over him. Frowning, he covered his nose and stepped into the living room.

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1 During puberty, I put on some weight, and my younger sister never let it go. “You look like a pig,” she’d giggle. Mom lightly tapped her on the head. “Don’t make mean jokes about your sister, sweetie!” One afternoon, I woke up from a nap just as the front door opened. My parents, older brother, and younger sister walked in together. They were all wearing matching outfits. Dad smiled at me apologetically. “We saw you were sleeping, so we didn’t want to wake you. We went ahead without you.” “Besides,” he added casually, “you’re too heavy right now. They don’t make the family outfits in your size anyway, so it’s better you don’t wear one.” The next day, our extended family hosted a massive party at a countryside lodge. That was when I found out the rule for the event: every single family had to wear matching outfits. I was the only one in the entire venue dressed normally. I stuck out like a sore thumb. … Later that afternoon, my sister tricked me into walking toward the back of the property, right by the actual pig pens. “You broke the party rules!” she squealed, locking the wooden gate behind me. “People who don’t wear the family outfit don’t get a room! You have to sleep with your own kind tonight!” The smell was overwhelming. A massive, muddy pig kept nudging my legs. Terrified and crying, I pulled out my phone and called Mom, Dad, and my brother. No one answered. Desperate, I recorded a short video of myself trapped in the pen and sent it to the family group chat, begging for help. Only Mom replied. It was a voice note, her tone soft and entirely unbothered. “Oh, did she do that? I’ll give her a talking to later. We’re busy taking the big family portrait right now. We’ll come get you in a bit. If the pigs chase you, just run! Think of it as a workout.” A pig shoved its snout into the back of my knees, knocking me into the dirt. My phone screen lit up. It was a new notification from Mom’s Instagram. It was a picture of my sister smiling on a tire swing. The caption read: My precious little princess~ One of our aunts commented jokingly: What about your other princess? Don’t love her anymore? Mom replied quickly: She’s too heavy. She’d break the swing. Mom… is that really why you don’t love me? Just because I’m heavy? Sitting in the mud, something finally snapped. A profound, crystal-clear realization washed over me. I dialed my college advisor’s number. “Professor,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “That international exchange program you mentioned. I’ll take it.” Love is something you can only hope for, not demand. If I wasn’t going to get it here, then I didn’t want it at all. … “Oh my god, Chloe, why do you smell so bad?” “Walk in the back, please. Don’t stink up the whole group in front of your aunts and uncles.” It wasn’t until ten o’clock at night that someone finally let me out of the pig pen. My parents, my brother Liam, my sister Mia, and a dozen relatives strolled past me, laughing and chatting. They gave me a few half-hearted instructions to wash up before immediately changing the subject. Three different families were walking together, all wearing their perfectly matching outfits. It was blinding. “Yeah, Mia’s a little troublemaker, she just loves messing with her older siblings. What can you do? She’s the baby of the family, we have to spoil her!” Mom laughed, chatting with an aunt. “She’s mischievous, sure, but her grades are amazing! Top ten in her class! And Liam, our oldest, he’s getting his Master’s at a state school, but hey, he got a full ride!” I trailed far behind the group, listening to Mom brag. I felt like a pathetic clown secretly observing someone else’s happy family. I didn’t even dare to walk closer. I was terrified the stench of my own misery would ruin their perfect evening. Months ago, I had earned a full academic scholarship for a Master’s program, alongside an offer for a fully funded international exchange. I had been practically buzzing with excitement when I showed my parents the acceptance letters. Mom had kept scrolling on her phone. Dad hadn’t looked away from the TV. “We already know you get good grades,” Mom had said dismissively. “You don’t need to announce it every time.” Back then, I thought I just wasn’t successful enough. But looking at Liam and Mia, I realized the truth. Even if they were mediocre, they would always be my parents’ greatest pride and joy. “Oh, Chloe, what about you? I heard you’re doing great in school too!” Back at the lodge, an aunt finally noticed me standing awkwardly in the corner of the living room. She reached out to grab my hand, but Mia quickly slapped her arm away. “Auntie, don’t! She smells like a literal pig! Go take a shower, Chloe! You’re grossing everyone out!” My face burned with humiliation. Mom gave Mia a gentle, scolding look. Dad ruffled Mia’s hair, and Liam pinched her cheek affectionately. Not a single one of them offered a word of comfort to me. I kept my head down, rushing to the bathroom. When I came back out, showered and changed, I saw my parents handing out small gift bags to all the cousins in the living room. Even the oldest cousin, who was twenty-five, got a box of gourmet cookies. When it was my turn, Mom’s hands were empty. She let out a small gasp. “Oh shoot! Mia’s best friend tagged along today, so I gave yours to her.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Cookies are high in calories anyway. Skipping them is good for your diet.” Then, as if remembering something else, she patted my arm. “Oh, right. Since Mia’s friend is here, we’re short a bed. You’ll have to sleep on the sofa in the living room tonight.” Liam and Dad were sitting right there. They glanced over, then went back to their conversation. They were completely used to me giving up my space. That was just the reality of being Chloe. I was the middle child. I was expected to be the most understanding, yet I was given the fewest rights. It was the middle of summer, and the living room didn’t have AC. I lay on the stiff leather sofa in my pajamas. The male relatives kept walking back and forth to the kitchen, their eyes lingering on me awkwardly. My clean clothes from home were all dirty, so I was stuck in my thin sleepwear. I curled into a tight ball, trying to protect myself from the stares. My phone buzzed. It was a text from my advisor. “Chloe, are you sure about this? You always talked about wanting to stay close to your family for your Master’s.” “Are you absolutely certain… you want to go abroad for three years?” The blue light of the screen illuminated my face. My expression was set in stone. In this life, I was done begging for love. The next morning, the adults were going fruit picking, while the kids were pairing up to ride bumper cars. Mia immediately threw a fit, pouting her lips. “I don’t want to ride with Chloe! She’s too big, she’ll squash me! I want to ride with my best friend!” Mom sighed, immediately moving to placate her. “We only bought a set number of tickets! Fine, fine, you can go with your friend. Chloe can just stay in the lodge, okay?” Hearing this, Liam tossed his sweaty t-shirt at my face. “Oh, you’re staying? Perfect. Wash this for me, will you?” Dad thought for a second. “Go pack up our bags in the rooms. It’s a mess in there, and I don’t want to leave anything behind when we check out.” Nobody asked if I wanted to go. Nobody cared. Only my aunt gave me a pitying look before they all walked out the door. My phone buzzed again. “Chloe, you’re deciding on this very late,” my advisor texted. “You need to submit the application packet by the end of the day. Thankfully, you already have your passport and visa sorted from that summer program, so the school is expediting the paperwork.” I looked at the dirty laundry Liam threw at me, and thought about the messy rooms Dad ordered me to pack. I let out a long breath. I called an Uber, and left the lodge entirely. My university highly valued my academic record. They had already pre-approved the full international scholarship. By the time I got back to our actual house in the city, it was late at night. My family had returned from the lodge a few hours prior. I kept the application documents hidden in my tote bag. I had no intention of telling them. Even if I did, they probably wouldn’t care. Or worse, they’d stop me from going just so they wouldn’t lose their live-in maid. Whatever their reaction might be, I didn’t want to deal with it. I was trying to think of an excuse for why I had left the lodge early, but when I walked in, Mom just glanced up from her magazine. “The shower is free. Hurry up and use it.” Liam was in his room playing games. Dad was on his laptop. None of them even asked why I had disappeared. Only Mia peaked her head out of the kitchen, looking mildly curious. “Chloe? Did you run away? Mom and Dad totally thought you ran away.” My throat tightened. They thought I had run away… and they didn’t even care enough to call? If Mia so much as stubbed her toe, they panicked. If Liam slightly furrowed his brow, they rushed to ask what was wrong and sent him money to cheer him up. I had nothing. Summer was officially starting, and my parents were planning a family vacation to Florida. Mia was trying on the new sundresses they bought her, looking miserable in the mirror, complaining that she looked bloated. Liam grabbed my arm and dragged me over to the mirror. “You’re not fat at all! Look at Chloe! If she’s not complaining, you have nothing to worry about.” Mom immediately pulled out the digital scale, making me and Mia stand on it one after the other. Seeing the massive difference in our weights, Mia’s mood instantly improved. My face was completely drained of color. Dad noticed my rigid posture. He gave my back a dismissive pat. “Go to your room if you’re going to pout.” As I walked down the hall, I heard Mom’s voice, laced with faint concern. “Is she okay?” “She doesn’t need to be coddled,” Liam replied, sounding entirely indifferent. “She’ll get over it by herself. Don’t worry about it, Mom.” I shut my bedroom door. A new email notification popped up on my phone. The exchange application was approved. The scholarship funds had been transferred to my student account. My advisor needed my passport details to book the flight. It was finalized. I was moving across the ocean. Knowing I was leaving made their coldness feel so much lighter. Once the flight was booked, I started packing. I ordered a few heavy-duty essentials online. Because I was hauling packages inside every day, Dad finally got suspicious. “What are you buying? That box is massive,” he asked as I dragged a large carton through the front door. Before I could stop him, he grabbed a box cutter and sliced the tape. Inside was a large, hard-shell suitcase. My heart jumped into my throat. “What do you need a giant suitcase for?” he frowned. I opened my mouth, but my mind went blank. I had no excuse ready. My tote bag, which held all my international student documents, was sitting right next to the box. Dad’s eyes drifted toward it, and he reached out to open the flap. My heart hammered against my ribs. Was this it? Was he going to find out? Would he be angry? Would he… beg me not to go? “Chloe!” Mom’s voice pierced the air, stopping Dad in his tracks. She walked into the living room, took one look at the suitcase, and her face shifted into a look of awkward guilt. She softened her voice, putting on a gentle, placating tone. “Chloe, about the Florida trip… I think it’s best if you stay home.” She sighed, playing with her rings. “We’re going to the mountains, doing a lot of hiking and ziplining. It’s a lot of steep walking. Honestly, at your size, I’m worried the safety harnesses won’t even fit you. It’s too dangerous.” “More importantly,” she added quickly, “Mia’s best friend really wants to come. We don’t have enough hotel rooms. You understand, right?” Mia’s friend happened to be sitting on the sofa. She walked over and grabbed my hand, looking apologetic. “Chloe, we can totally share a bed! It’s fine! When we go out to the parks, you can just stay in the hotel room with the AC since your parents didn’t buy you a ticket…” Her voice trailed off. She realized she had said the quiet part out loud. Even if she hadn’t slipped up, I already knew. Whenever they used that gentle, ‘discussing’ tone with me, they had already made the decision. As the invisible child, the live-in maid, I had no right to choose. They were just giving me the illusion of a choice to save face. But with outsiders, they bent over backwards to accommodate them. I pressed my lips together. Suddenly, I didn’t care anymore. I was leaving for three years. This was my final goodbye. “I… I wasn’t planning on going to Florida anyway,” I said quietly. “I’m going somewhere else.” “I—” “Oh, perfect!” Mom interrupted, clapping her hands together, completely ignoring what I was trying to say. “I almost forgot! Today is the anniversary of the day Mia said her first word! Since her friend is here, let’s have a little celebration!” Because it was a spur-of-the-moment idea, they hadn’t bought any decorations. “Chloe, didn’t you save up for months to buy that custom party dress? Let Mia wear it for the photos!” Before I could say a word, Mom pushed past me and walked straight into my bedroom. Because I had been secretly packing, my room was a disaster. As she opened the closet door, the draft caught the printed flight itinerary sitting on my desk, blowing it directly onto the floor. Mom looked down. Her eyes landed squarely on the flight ticket. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds. A cold sweat broke out on my back. “Why is your room such a mess? Papers are flying everywhere,” she muttered. She bent down and picked up the itinerary. Without even glancing at the destination or the dates, she blindly placed it back on the desk. She grabbed my expensive custom dress from the closet and walked out. “Mia! Come try this on! Chloe is way too heavy for it now, so I’ll pin the back so it fits you perfectly!” The living room lights were dimmed. A small cake with Mia’s name iced on it sat on the coffee table. They had cast a home video to the TV, showing a tiny baby Mia babbling her first words. The whole family was ecstatic. Dad was wiping tears from his eyes, and Liam was cheering loudly. I didn’t have a video like that. I barely had any baby pictures at all. Mia was born less than a year after me. The second she arrived, all of my parents’ attention instantly transferred to her. Liam and Mia both knew what it felt like to be completely, unconditionally loved by our parents. I was the only one who didn’t. I was unloved. Mia’s friend’s mom called to tell her it was time to come home. She had the phone on speaker. I could hear her parents’ voices, soft, patient, and full of adoration. The girl whined playfully, complaining about having to leave early. Her parents responded to every word, coaxing her gently, trying everything to make her smile. Is that what love is? To me, love felt like a beautiful, decadent cake sitting behind a bakery window. It was stunning. It was so far out of reach. I didn’t deserve it. I couldn’t afford it. On the day of my flight, I dragged my suitcase through the living room. Mia was sitting at the mirror, touching up her makeup. Her friend had come over again, and they were whispering about school drama. Liam stretched lazily on the couch, then reached over and messed up Mia’s hair, making her screech in annoyance. The two siblings started play-fighting, throwing pillows across the room. Suddenly, they noticed me standing by the door. Liam dropped the pillow. He looked at me with polite detachment, like he was talking to a distant acquaintance. “Do you need something?” I shook my head. No. I just realized that you two are the real siblings. You fight, you laugh, you act like family. To you, I’m just a stranger renting a room. Mom and Dad walked out of the master bedroom. Mom clapped her hands, beaming. “Alright kids, let’s go! Florida, here we come!” Dad pulled a stack of thick envelopes from his jacket pocket. “Vacation funds for everyone!” he announced cheerfully. “When we have free time, go buy yourselves whatever you want!” He handed an envelope to Liam. One to Mia. And one to Mia’s friend. I didn’t get one. Dad didn’t even look at me. He just skipped right over me. Mia frowned slightly, glancing at my heavy suitcase, but she kept her mouth shut. Click. The front door closed behind them. I let out a long, shaky breath. It was time to go to the airport. The terminal was incredibly loud. From a distance, I saw my advisor waving frantically. Standing next to him was a group of my classmates, holding up a hastily made banner. Bon Voyage, Chloe! I stopped dead in my tracks. “Look at you! You’ve lost so much weight!” my advisor said, frowning deeply as he looked me up and down. “Don’t focus on dieting over there. Make sure you’re eating proper meals.” My classmates swarmed me, all talking over each other. “Chloe! Who’s going to proofread my papers when you’re gone?!” “You have to send me copies of your lecture notes!” “Drop your location as soon as you land! I’m coming to visit you over winter break!” I stared down at the tips of my shoes, my vision blurring. “I… I’m so heavy, and I’m so quiet,” I stammered, my voice breaking. “I thought… I thought you guys didn’t even like me…” The group went dead silent. Then, the class president slapped me on the shoulder. “Who cares about your weight? You give the best hugs! And what do you mean quiet? You’re the most genuine, reliable person in our cohort. Everyone loves you, Chloe!” They all started laughing. I laughed too, though the tears were burning my eyes. My advisor handed me a plain white envelope. “Everyone chipped in. Buy yourself some good food on the layover. Don’t you dare try to save this money, you hear me?” The envelope was thin. I knew there wasn’t a massive amount of cash inside, but it felt a million times heavier than the envelopes Dad had handed out. I gripped it tightly against my chest and nodded. “I’m going now.” I turned around. The light pouring through the security gates was blindingly bright. I dragged my suitcase forward, and I didn’t look back once.

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1 Philip’s childhood friend Lenore was a viral relationship coach. He swore love needed her rules, not instinct. Lenore said women were stray cats. Starve them to make them cling. So when I worked late, he bolted the door, leaving me shivering in the hall until dawn. She claimed security bred complacency. So at our engagement party, he vanished to test if I would break down publicly. Each time I sobbed, he sighed. Lenore says you are projecting low vibrations. Boundaries protect our future. I endured it until Mother’s stroke landed her in the ICU. I borrowed from everyone, still twenty thousand dollars short. Begging Philip, he sent not a dime but forwarded my pleas to Lenore. By nightfall, I was viral. The video’s title read, Girlfriend Uses Sick Mom to Extort Twenty Grand. Charity Grift? My mother’s blurred ICU notice fueled the mockery. Comments hailed Philip as a high value man. I was a greedy parasite. Bloodshot, I begged him to delete it. He chuckled. The comments help me cut losses. Reflect on why you look like a scammer. Something in me died. No more explanations. I would scrub this rot from my life and walk away forever. … The hospital billing counter was closing in ten minutes. I slid my debit card into the machine three times. The balance mocked me, stuck permanently at thirteen thousand six hundred dollars. The nurse slid the invoice back under the glass. “You are still short on the upfront fees.” “If you cannot cover the rest before midnight, we will have to delay her next round of medication.” I clutched the paper and bolted out of the hospital doors. Rain was pouring down in sheets. There was an estate jeweler glowing warmly just across the street. The appraiser inspected the diamond through his loupe. “The stone is small. The setting has noticeable wear and tear.” “Eighteen grand, tops.” Philip had paid sixty-eight thousand for it. On the day we went ring shopping, he held my hand and walked with me through the jewelry district for an entire afternoon. The ring I truly fell in love with was a hundred and twenty thousand. He had squeezed my fingers tight. “Wait until our tenth anniversary. I promise I will upgrade it to something massive.” On the drive home, Lenore sent him a dozen voice notes. “Never feed a woman a full meal on the first try.” “If you meet all her expectations immediately, she will bleed you dry later.” In the end, he drove back alone and bought this cheaper one. Lenore praised him on her next live stream for keeping a level head. “As long as you let her try it on and invest her time, she will automatically rationalize the disappointment for you.” And the pathetic truth was, I really had made excuses for him back then. I slid the ring across the velvet counter. “Sell it.” My phone finally buzzed. It was Philip. “Where are you?” “The jeweler across the street from the hospital.” Philip went dead silent for a second. “Are you pawning your ring?” “My mother needs the money to survive.” “Hazel, why do you have to be so extreme every single time things do not go your way?” I crushed the pawn receipt in my fist. “Philip, my mother is in the ICU.” “I know.” “And I am already here, am I not?” I looked up. He was standing across the street in the pouring rain. He was holding a thermal takeout bag from that little soup place behind the hospital. I ran over to him. He reached out and brushed the wet hair away from my forehead. “Why are you wearing so little in this weather?” Inside the bag was creamy tomato bisque. Low sodium, no basil, extra croutons. Seeing that familiar order made my eyes burn with sudden, stupid tears. Philip twisted the lid off and handed me a plastic spoon. “Eat a little bit first.” I had barely reached for it when his phone rang. Lenore’s voice echoed loudly through the speaker. “She is highly dysregulated right now. Do not soothe her.” “Make her record an apology video first.” “If you cave now, she will learn that throwing a tantrum gets her exactly what she wants.” The hand holding the spoon froze in midair. Philip looked at me, then slowly placed the lid back on the soup. “I did not lie to anyone.” “You saw the critical condition notice with your own eyes.” Philip furrowed his brows. “A stroke does not mean she is definitely going to die.” “Lenore looked it up. A lot of patients wake up perfectly fine the very next day.” “You came at me crying and demanding money. Anyone would have their guard up.” He held his phone inches from my face. On the screen was a pre-written caption. I exaggerated my mother’s illness due to severe anxiety. Philip never refused to help me. I want to thank Lenore for keeping us both grounded. “Read it to the camera.” “Once you read it, she takes the post down, and I wire you the money.” I did not take the phone. His voice hardened into something cold and corporate. “I am willing to pay.” “But you cannot use your sick relative to trample all over my boundaries.” We had been together for seven years. Boundaries was his favorite word. I was not allowed to look at his phone. I was not allowed to ask where he and Lenore went on the weekends. I was not allowed to feel insecure when they talked on the phone until three in the morning. But Lenore was allowed to read our private texts. She was allowed to dictate his replies. She was allowed to decide when he should hold me, and when he should leave me freezing in the dark. The bank notification popped up on my screen. The jeweler had wired the money. I looked down and paid the hospital portal on my phone. Philip stood in the rain, his expression freezing over. “If you refuse to film this today, do not ever say I did not give you a chance to fix this.” It was past one in the morning by the time I finished the paperwork and sat outside the ICU doors. My phone kept blowing up with clips of Lenore’s latest live stream. She was sitting in front of her ring light, casually twisting a new diamond bracelet around her wrist. “Huge shoutout to an old friend who wants to remain anonymous.” “He knew I just hit ten million followers and insisted on spoiling me.” The camera conveniently caught the price tag on the velvet box. Nineteen thousand eight hundred dollars. The video had been posted exactly seventeen minutes after I sent Philip that voice note begging for my mother’s life. It was not that Philip did not have twenty thousand dollars. It was just that saving my mother was not worth his money. The next morning, HR called to suspend me. “We received hundreds of complaints overnight.” “Management feels you are a liability to our clients right now.” The moment I stepped out of the office building, my phone buzzed again. My GoFundMe campaign had been frozen due to mass reporting. The sixteen thousand dollars I had managed to raise was locked. I could not withdraw a cent. Then the hospital called. People were posing as relatives, calling the front desk to ask if my mother was a paid crisis actor. Some demanded the hospital do a live stream to prove she was actually dying. The nurses’ station was harassed for half an hour until they were forced to unplug the main phone line. When I sprinted back to the ward, there was a massive floral wreath sitting ominously in the hallway. The white ribbons had jagged red letters painted across them. Hope the scammer mother and daughter rot in hell together. I grabbed the heavy wooden frame and dragged it toward the elevators. The sharp wires sliced right through my palm. Blood dripped steadily down my fingers, staining the pristine hospital floor. The elevator doors chimed open. Philip stepped out. His eyes locked onto my bleeding hand. He immediately dug a bandage out of his coat pocket. “Why are you always so reckless?” “Give me your hand.” I did not move a muscle. He grabbed my wrist anyway, his fingers expertly peeling the wrapper and pressing the bandage over the cut. He knew I hated raw onions. He knew thunderstorms gave me panic attacks. But when my mother was lying half-dead in the ICU, he had to ask Lenore for permission to help me. His phone buzzed against his palm. A text from Lenore lit up the screen. You offered comfort. Now pull away. Do not let her think that self-harm equals more attention. Philip smoothed the edges of the bandage down, then instantly dropped my hand like I was on fire. I ripped the bandage off and threw it into the trash can along with the grotesque flowers. “Do you really need her permission just to give a damn about me?” His jaw tightened. “Stop being so toxic.” “Lenore takes time out of her busy schedule to analyze your behavioral patterns. She is doing this to help us.” I looked him dead in the eyes. “The wedding is off.” “From now on, she can manage your love life all she wants. I am done.” Philip froze for two seconds, then actually laughed. “Using a breakup to manipulate me into backing down?” “Lenore called it last night. She said once you realized crying would not work, you would threaten to leave.” “Hazel, every single move you make is utterly predictable.” He held out a sleek canvas bag. It had my phone charger and some fresh clothes inside. “You are going to be pulling all-nighters here.” I pushed the bag back into his chest. “I need to go back to the apartment to get my ID.” He stepped into my path. “I will have my assistant drop it off.” I tilted my head, studying the stranger standing in front of me. “Or what? Do I need Lenore’s permission to enter my own home now?” He did not answer. Half an hour later, I shoved my spare key into the door of our apartment. My fuzzy slippers were still neatly lined up by the entrance. Next to them was a pair of sharp designer heels. Lenore was lounging on my living room sofa. She was wearing the thick, hand-knitted wool socks my mother had made for me last winter. I stared blindly at her feet. “Take those off.” Lenore casually glanced down. “They are just socks.” “A truly independent woman does not project her emotional baggage onto inanimate objects.” I lunged forward to rip them off her feet. The study door clicked open. Philip walked out quickly, grabbing my arm in an iron grip. “That is enough.” “Her feet were cold. She is just borrowing them for an hour.” I looked at the man holding me back. Suddenly, I remembered the day we moved in four years ago. He had pressed the metal key into my palm. “This is our home now.” “This is your safe place.” I violently wrenched my arm out of his grip. I stumbled backward, my lower back crashing into the heavy oak desk. The impact knocked one of the drawers open. A thick stack of paper bound in a blue folder slid into view. It was a seed funding contract. Philip had invested two hundred and eighty thousand dollars in exchange for a fifteen percent stake in Lenore’s new media empire. The signature at the bottom was dated the exact same day my mother was rushed into the ICU. Three years ago, Philip’s marketing agency hit a wall. He was drowning in debt. My mother sold her only house in the old suburbs. She gave him every last cent she had. Two hundred and eighty thousand dollars. The written agreement stated he would pay her back in two years. He kept delaying. Every time she brought it up, he would gently hold her wrinkled hands. “Mom, just give me a little more time.” “Once Hazel and I are married, your money is our money. We will take care of you forever.” Yet when she was suffocating on a ventilator, he refused to spare twenty grand. All while her life savings sat untouched, perfectly transferred into Lenore’s bank account. “Why is my mother’s money in this contract?” Philip lunged forward and slammed the drawer shut. “What do you mean, your mother’s money?” “The loan went into my company. It became corporate capital.” “As the CEO, I have the right to diversify our investments.” I stared at him, my chest tight. “Giving it to Lenore is an investment.” “So what was giving my mother twenty grand? A waste?” Lenore leaned against the doorframe, sipping a glass of water. “It was a black hole.” “Twenty grand today, rehab costs tomorrow, assisted living the day after.” “If Philip does not establish boundaries now, you and your mother will bleed him dry for the rest of his life.” I yanked the drawer open again. The memo line on the contract clearly read. Initial Funding for Project LG-01. Philip snatched the paper from my hands. “This is internal company documentation.” “You have no right to look at this.” “You took her money to fund a project with her initials on it.” His Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “LG is just a random code.” Lenore walked up to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with him. The new diamond bracelet on her wrist caught the overhead light, flashing brilliantly in my eyes. Suddenly, this apartment felt completely alien to me. My clothes were in the closet. My favorite mugs were in the cabinet. My photos were on the walls. But standing here, I felt like a ghost who had wandered into someone else’s life. My mother finally woke up on the afternoon of the third day. The doctor said she had severe expressive aphasia. The entire right side of her body was paralyzed. When I walked into the room, she was struggling to reach her phone with her trembling left hand. The screen was flooded with hateful text messages from unknown numbers. Just die already so you can prove your daughter is not a liar. Only trash raises trash like you. I snatched the phone out of her hand and powered it off. Her pale lips were quivering uncontrollably. The nurse handed us a clipboard and a pen. She gripped the plastic barrel awkwardly with her left hand. Every single stroke was a painful, jagged effort. It took her five minutes just to write three words. Enough money left? I dropped to my knees beside the metal bed rails. “Yes.” “My company gave me an advance on my salary.” She stared into my eyes. She knew me too well. She did not believe a word of it. “I promise, Mom. We have enough.” Tears spilled over her eyelashes, rolling into the thin hospital pillow. Her right hand was dead weight, so she clumsily patted the top of my head with her left. The heavy door creaked open. Philip walked in, holding a small white box from the local bakery. Lemon drizzle cake. “Mary, you are awake?” He smoothly reached for the remote, adjusting the head of the bed before setting the bakery box on the tray table. My mother’s eyes lit up the second she saw him. He remembered she loved lemon cake, but hated thick frosting. Four years ago, when she was hospitalized for severe hypertension, I was stuck on a business trip across the country. Philip stayed by her side for two straight nights. When I finally rushed off the plane and ran into the ward, he was slumped over the side of her mattress, fast asleep. Ever since that day, she always told me. “Philip has a good heart. He will keep you safe.” He pulled up a plastic chair and wrapped both his hands around her functioning left hand. “Mary, I am so sorry you had to deal with all this.” “The internet is just full of angry people who do not understand our situation. Please do not let it stress you out.” She looked at me, her eyes wide with frantic worry. Philip followed her gaze. “Do not worry about us.” “I am not going to leave Hazel over a little misunderstanding.” The tight lines of tension across my mother’s shoulders instantly melted away. For one fleeting second, I almost fell for it too. I almost believed he was still the same boy who had slept by her hospital bed four years ago. Then, he reached into his sleek leather briefcase and pulled out a freshly printed document. “The public backlash is getting out of hand.” “If you could just sign this to clarify things, Lenore can have her team scrub the negative trending topics immediately.” The paper read. I, Mary Lin, willingly gifted Philip two hundred and eighty thousand dollars. This was not a loan. My daughter, Hazel, recently suffered an emotional breakdown and exaggerated my medical condition to extort money. I snatched the paper and ripped it straight down the middle. “You are forcing a woman who just woke from a stroke to sign this garbage?” Philip’s face darkened. “It is just a formal clarification.” “I have her written IOU for the money.” “Then the IOU is void.” He leaned in, lowering his voice into a sharp hiss. “We are getting married in a few months.” “What is the point of drawing lines between your mother’s money and my money?” “When she gave it to me, she called us family.” “Now that she is sick, you suddenly want to treat me like a bank?” His jaw locked. “Can you stop treating our relationship like a spreadsheet?” “When my mother was dying, you literally calculated the return on investment for twenty grand.” Hearing the word married, my mother grabbed the sleeve of his expensive blazer. She pointed frantically at the torn pieces of paper, then pointed a trembling finger at me. Philip patted her hand gently. “Once you sign, I will make Lenore delete all the videos tonight.” “The wedding will go on as planned.” “I promise I will not abandon her.” My mother stared at me, her eyes pleading. I stepped between him and the bed. “Get out.” His eyes turned cold. “Hazel, stop biting the hand that feeds you.” “Your mother knows exactly what is best for you.” “She just woke up! She cannot even speak!” “The only thing she knows right now is the terror of you leaving me!” My mother pushed herself up, gasping for air. The heart monitor beside her began to shriek violently. Nurses flooded the room, aggressively pushing both of us out into the hallway. A doctor grabbed me to sign emergency consent forms. By the time I rushed back upstairs, Philip was gone. The room was deathly quiet. There was a small red ink pad sitting perfectly square on her bedside table. The statement I had ripped in half had been reprinted. At the bottom right corner, sitting bright red against the white paper, was my mother’s crooked thumbprint. When she saw me walk in, she panicked and tried to hide her left hand. On her notepad, freshly written words stared back at me. He said, sign it, and he marries you. I stood rooted to the linoleum floor. I could not breathe. I could not move. At eight o’clock that evening, Lenore dropped a teaser for her upcoming live stream. The thumbnail was a high-resolution scan of that exact document, the red thumbprint glowing like an open wound. The title was bold text. After seven years of being leeched off, he finally secured a confession from the mother. In the short clip, Philip was wearing a crisp white button-down, offering the camera a tired, devastated smile. “I truly thought of them as my own blood.” “But some people have an appetite you simply cannot satisfy.” My mother’s phone vibrated violently against the plastic tray table. I scrambled to hit the power button, but she had already seen the screen. She stared at me, her chest heaving. Her left thumb was still stained with red ink. She opened her mouth, her jaw trembling, but no sound came out. All she could do was shake her head. Over and over again. The live stream was scheduled for seven the next evening. Lenore spent the whole day dripping out exclusive behind-the-scenes clips. Footage of Philip helping my mom carry groceries from the farmer’s market. Footage of my mom sitting in his cramped first office, folding dumplings for his startup team. And finally, the video of her handing the keys of her old house to the real estate agent. All of these videos were stolen straight from my private cloud storage. Lenore’s editors had stitched them together under a new, sickening title. How to spot a generational grifter. I dialed Philip’s number. He picked up on the second ring. “Finally ready to be an adult?” “Cancel the stream.” “Too late.” “My mother just regained consciousness. She cannot take this kind of stress.” I heard Philip sigh. Through the line, I heard Lenore murmur something in the background. His tone instantly turned rigid. “You are using her health to manipulate me again.” “The broadcast is just to set the record straight.” “That money was a loan. You manipulated a brain damage patient into signing away her rights.” “If you want to dispute it, take me to court.” The line went dead. At exactly seven, the broadcast went live. I muted my mother’s phone and shoved it deep into the bottom drawer of the nightstand. I begged the nurses on duty not to play any viral videos in the ward. But someone, hungry for drama, snuck into the hospital’s public chat group and pasted the streaming link. While I was downstairs picking up her evening meds, she managed to hook her fingers around the drawer handle and pull it open. She sent one final voice note to Philip. Then, she clicked the link. When I stepped back into the room, Philip’s voice was echoing sharply off the sterile walls. “Mary always promised me that as long as I married Hazel, her money would eventually be mine.” “I was young. I actually believed she viewed me as a son.” The document flashed on the massive screen behind him. Lenore leaned into the microphone, her tone dripping with fake empathy. “So, when Hazel used her mother’s so-called critical condition to demand twenty grand from you, how did that make you feel?” Philip lowered his eyes perfectly on cue. “Empty.” “It was never about the twenty grand.” “But if you feed a stray without boundaries, eventually it will try to eat you alive.” The chat box exploded with thousands of people cheering for him. My mother sat rigidly against the pillows. Her face was the color of ash. I dropped the plastic bags and dove for the charging cable, yanking it straight out of the wall. She grabbed my arm with terrifying strength. A terrible, wet rattling sound came from deep inside her throat. “L-loan…” “L-loan…” She was trying to scream that it was a loan. But on the glowing screen, Philip had pulled out the original handwritten IOU. He held up a thick red marker and drew a massive, brutal X right across her handwriting. “Mary personally confirmed this afternoon that this paper was just for tax purposes.” “So I am choosing grace. I will not pursue legal action against them for their past behavior.” “But as of this moment, I am completely cutting them off financially.” My mother’s eyes locked onto the screen, wide and entirely bloodshot. Her chest jerked upward in a violent spasm. The heart monitor flatlined with a piercing shriek. Doctors sprinted through the door. “Secondary hemorrhage! Bag her, now!” They crashed the bed through the doors, rushing her toward the surgical unit. I ran after them for three steps before my knees completely buckled. I slammed hard into the drywall. On the phone lying discarded on the floor, the stream carried on. Lenore excitedly announced her new masterclass had just crossed one hundred thousand sales. The live studio audience erupted in applause. I grabbed the phone with shaking hands and dialed his number. Once. Twice. Seventeen times. It rang into the void. The surgical lights burned bright red for three grueling hours. When the doors finally swung open, the lead surgeon pulled down his mask and slowly shook his head. “I am so sorry. The damage was too catastrophic.” They wheeled her out. A stark white sheet covered her face. Her left hand, still faintly stained with red ink, slipped off the mattress and dangled limply in the air. I slowly sank to the floor. I gently picked up her hand and tucked it safely back under the warm blankets. My phone vibrated relentlessly in my pocket. Lenore’s live stream was now the number one trending broadcast in the country. On the screen, Philip was thoughtfully answering a fan question. “If Hazel gets on her knees and apologizes right now, will you still marry her?” He casually adjusted his silver cufflinks. It was the dark charcoal suit I had bought for him to wear to the courthouse. “That depends entirely on whether she shows genuine accountability.” “Marriage is an equal partnership, not a charity.” “I am not going to abandon my core values just because she knows how to cry.” More deafening applause. The broadcast seamlessly transitioned into a champagne celebration. A production assistant suddenly jogged onto the stage, handing Philip a tablet. “Sir, your personal phone has been ringing non-stop.” Philip glanced down. The screen clearly displayed seventeen missed calls from me. Then, an unknown local number flashed onto the screen. Lenore reached out and placed a manicured hand over his. “We are still live.” The ringtone pierced through the applause, sharp and unrelenting. Philip finally swiped to answer. “Who is this?” Because he had not muted his lapel mic, the caller’s voice blasted through the stadium speakers, echoing into millions of homes. “Am I speaking to Mr. Philip?” “This is City General Hospital.” “You are listed as the secondary emergency contact for Mary Lin.” “I regret to inform you that Mary passed away at exactly 10:27 PM following a massive hemorrhage.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “535703”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 Right before graduation at my elite private university, I accidentally bumped into the campus queen bee, a girl dripping in generational wealth. I apologized and walked away, assuming that would be the end of it. I was wrong. That very afternoon, she filed a formal report with the university. She claimed I had stalked her into the campus woods and relentlessly sexually harassed her. Victoria was the untouchable golden girl. Her family had donated half the buildings on campus. Naturally, everyone chose to believe her. Even I could not understand why she would bother framing me, a dirt-poor scholarship kid who barely existed in her world. I was expelled immediately. Sixteen years of grueling academic work went up in smoke. I was doxed, branded a predator online, and dragged into those same woods by a group of trust-fund frat boys who beat me within an inch of my life. When my adoptive parents saw my broken body, they did not offer comfort. Instead, they conspired to sell my labor to a brutal, off-the-grid manufacturing plant just to squeeze the last drop of value out of my existence. Driven to absolute despair and freezing in the winter rain, my heart finally gave out. I collapsed outside the campus gates, dying a pathetic, miserable death. Then, I opened my eyes. … I was standing on the tree-lined campus promenade. Victoria was walking straight toward me. Without thinking, I threw myself entirely out of the way. My knees slammed into the concrete, sending a sharp spike of pain up my legs, but I let out a massive breath of relief. I had successfully avoided her. Before my death, I had replayed this moment a million times. Bumping into her was the catalyst for my entire tragedy. Victoria always looked at people like me as if we were insects. I figured my touch had disgusted her so much that she decided to crush me just for fun. But as I pulled myself up from the ground, Victoria suddenly pivoted. She stepped directly into my space. Before I could back up, our shoulders collided. My blood ran ice cold. The original collision was never an accident. It was a premeditated setup. Victoria frowned in disgust, staring at the edge of her designer skirt where it had brushed against my jeans. She looked as though she had just been contaminated. Her perfectly manicured sidekicks immediately jumped forward, pointing their fingers in my face. “Are you completely blind? How dare you touch her! Get on your knees and beg for forgiveness right now!” It was the exact same script from my past life. But this time, I did not cower. I did not stammer out an apology. I slowly straightened my spine. “She intentionally stepped into my path. Why the hell should I apologize?” The lead minion widened her eyes, raising her hand to slap me. “You absolute trash! I will teach you how to speak to your betters!” Victoria glanced at me, a flicker of surprise breaking through her icy mask, but she quickly smoothed her expression into utter indifference. “Do not waste time on him,” she said flatly. “We have actual business to handle.” The minion lowered her hand, instantly shifting into a sycophantic smile. “Of course, Victoria. We will get everything ready perfectly.” The business Victoria mentioned was her grand, public proposal to Sebastian, the billionaire golden boy of the university. In my previous life, while the sky exploded with fireworks celebrating their perfect aristocratic love, I was bleeding out in the dirt of the campus woods. But why? Why go to such lengths to destroy me? I waited until Victoria and her entourage disappeared around the corner before I realized my legs were shaking violently. Fear was useless now. God had given me a second chance, and I was going to fight tooth and nail to survive. I immediately sprinted to the main campus gates, as far away from the woods as possible. I found a spot directly beneath a highly visible security camera and stood completely still. Two hours later, my phone rang. It was Dean Sinclair. Her voice was trembling with suppressed rage. “Rowan, my office received a severe complaint from Victoria.” “You stalked and harassed her in the campus woods this afternoon. Get to the administration building this instant!” I looked up at the blinking red light of the camera above me. “I was never in the woods.” “Shut your mouth!” Dean Sinclair snapped. “If you want to lie to my face, you can do it in my office!” “It is not a lie,” I replied, my voice steady and unnervingly calm. “Since Victoria bumped into me on the promenade two hours ago, I have been standing directly beneath the main gate security camera. I haven’t moved an inch.” “Therefore, it is physically impossible for me to have been in the woods.” The line went dead silent for three seconds. Then, she let out a cruel sneer. “You really think you are smart, pulling an alibi out of thin air. Did you forget that camera is broken?” I stared right at the glowing red operation light. “It is not broken. I am looking right at the recording indicator.” “It is broken as of right now,” she said coldly. A second later, the red light above me clicked off. A campus security guard stepped out of the nearby booth, grabbing me roughly by the bicep. “Move it, kid. Dean Sinclair wants you in her office right now.” I yanked my arm out of his grip, forcing my heart rate to slow down. “Take your hands off me. I can walk myself.” I had tried to use the camera to prove my innocence, but they casually disabled it without breaking a sweat. The power imbalance was suffocating. But panicking would only get me killed again. I had to face them head-on. The Dean’s office was stifling. Victoria was lounging gracefully on a leather sofa. She looked at me the way one looks at roadkill. Dean Sinclair’s face was pinched in fury. She threw a withdrawal form across her heavy mahogany desk. It fluttered to the floor at my feet. “Sign the expulsion papers, apologize to Victoria, and we will consider the matter closed.” “Victoria is gracious enough not to press criminal charges against a charity case like you. It would ruin her aesthetic.” I did not move to pick it up. The sharp edge of the paper had grazed my cheek, leaving a thin red line. I casually wiped a drop of blood away with my thumb. “Why would I withdraw, and why would I apologize for something I did not do?” “Is she being gracious, or is she just a pathological liar?” “How dare you!” Dean Sinclair slammed her palms onto the desk, her voice echoing off the walls. “You commit a filthy, degrading act, and you have the audacity to play the victim?” I dug my fingernails into my palms to keep my hands from shaking. “I did nothing! If you are accusing me, bring out the proof.” Dean Sinclair laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “Who do you think you are? Do you honestly believe a girl of Victoria’s breeding would lower herself to frame you? Trash like you does not belong in an institution like this!” “How do you know she wouldn’t?” I leaned forward, refusing to break eye contact. “And as a Dean, taking one side of a story without a shred of evidence while calling a student ‘trash’ violates every code of conduct in this university.” “The only person who doesn’t belong in this institution is you!” Dean Sinclair’s chest heaved. Her eyes looked like they wanted to strip the flesh from my bones. She pointed a trembling, manicured finger right between my eyes. “Say that to me one more time.” I did not flinch. “I will say it as many times as you want. You are making wild accusations because Victoria is your actual niece. This is a blatant abuse of power and nepotism.” I had wanted to scream those exact words in my last life. “My administrative methods are none of your concern!” Dean Sinclair glared at me, her rage boiling over into a terrifyingly calm smile. “Expulsion is off the table now. Get on your knees and beg for my forgiveness. Now.” She placed her hand on the brass doorknob of her office. “Otherwise, this leaves the room, and your life is over.” It was a naked threat. I looked her dead in the eye. “I didn’t do it.” Dean Sinclair’s face turned purple. She ripped the door open. A crowd of students and faculty, drawn by the yelling, immediately swarmed the doorway, whispering and pointing. Victoria slowly stood up from the sofa, adjusting her immaculate cardigan. She pointed a delicate finger at me. “He stalked me. He cornered me. And now he is trying to play the victim. It makes me sick.” The crowd erupted. “Rowan always played the quiet nerd. Who knew he was such a creep?” “Harassing Victoria? A scholarship rat trying to touch an heiress? He should be locked up!” “Expel him! Get that predator out of here!” Dean Sinclair crossed her arms, her voice booming over the hallway. “Rowan has sexually harassed a female student, refused to admit fault, and verbally assaulted faculty.” “Since this has now caused severe disruption to our campus environment, the university has no choice but to involve law enforcement.” Victoria let out a soft, mocking laugh. “If this goes to the police, I guarantee he sees the inside of a cell.” They both stared at me, waiting for me to crack. Waiting for my knees to buckle. Waiting for me to beg. My face lost its color. I knew exactly what the wealthy elite could do to a nobody like me. “Please do not call the police!” Right on cue, my adoptive parents shoved their way through the crowd, looking panicked and frantic. “Ma’am, please, we are Rowan’s parents.” My adoptive father hunched his shoulders and actually dropped to his knees in front of Dean Sinclair. I instinctively reached out to pull him up. “Don’t beg them! I am completely innocent!” He aggressively slapped my hands away, looking up at the Dean with a sickeningly sweet, fawning expression. “We failed to raise him right. It is our fault. Blame us.” “Please, you are a big, important person. Have mercy on him.” My adoptive parents kept bowing their heads. Dean Sinclair let out a dramatic, theatrical sigh. “A parent’s love is truly a tragic thing. For your sake, I will offer Rowan one final chance.” “If he withdraws voluntarily and gets on his knees to apologize to my niece right now, we will drop the charges.” My parents’ pathetic smiles froze on their faces. “Does he have to drop out?” my adoptive mother pleaded. “It took everything we had to get him out of the trailer park. We borrowed from everyone in town just to afford his bus ticket here.” “If you just let him keep his scholarship, we will owe you our lives. We will kiss your shoes…” This time, Dean Sinclair didn’t even bother looking at them. “Spare me the poverty sob story. Expulsion is an act of extreme mercy on my part.” Victoria dramatically checked her diamond-encrusted Patek Philippe watch. “Well? Make a choice. I do not have all day to breathe this air.” My parents collapsed onto the floor in a theatrical display of despair. They crawled toward me on their knees, grabbing my pant legs, tears streaming down their weathered faces. “Son, just listen to the nice lady. Drop out and apologize.” “If the cops come, your life is ruined, and your father and I won’t be able to survive the shame! Please, I am begging you!” In my past life, this was the exact moment my spirit broke. I surrendered. I did it because I knew I could not fight billionaires, and because I thought my parents actually loved me. But shortly after my expulsion, while pretending to support me, they secretly sold my labor contract to an illegal factory for a quick cash payout. The memory of my lungs failing in the freezing mud rushed back to me. I dug my nails into my palms so hard the skin broke. God had given me a chance to clear my name. I was not going to walk back into the slaughterhouse. “I will say it one last time. I will not confess to a crime I did not commit.” My body was trembling, but my voice was completely steady. “Furthermore, the police are already on their way. I called them myself.” The entire hallway went dead silent. Dean Sinclair blinked, genuinely shocked. “You called the cops? You?” Victoria scoffed. “You really have a death wish.” My adoptive parents lunged at me, their eyes bloodshot with sudden, inexplicable rage. “Call them back and cancel it! You are going to go to jail!” “Stop being stupid! Just drop out! We cannot afford to mess with people like this!” Looking at their twisted, furious faces, something clicked in my brain. We were poor. Dirt poor. I was their only child. Years ago, a neighbor accused me of stealing a ten-cent egg, and my adoptive father nearly burned the man’s house down in my defense. Yet today, facing a life-ruining sexual assault allegation, they did not even ask me for my side of the story. They instantly believed I was guilty. It made no sense. None of this made any sense. Through the chaos of my racing thoughts, a terrifying theory began to take shape. Before I could process it, heavy footsteps echoed down the marble corridor. It wasn’t just the police. The crowd parted, revealing a dozen professional camera crews and reporters flanking two uniformed officers. The lead officer scanned the room. “Who is the caller? Rowan?” I raised my hand. “That is me.” The reporters immediately swarmed forward, microphones extended. “Are you the one who tipped us off about a massive campus cover-up?” I nodded. “Yes.” For the first time, Dean Sinclair’s arrogant mask cracked. “Rowan, have you lost your absolute mind? You invited the press? Do you honestly think the media is going to side with a trailer park kid over the Victoria family?” My adoptive parents dug their dirty fingernails deep into my forearms, screaming in my face. “Tell the cops you made a mistake! Tell them right now!” “Tell the news people to get out of here! Do you hear me?!” I stood perfectly still. The pain in my arms only made my mind sharper. “I did nothing wrong. I am not afraid of the spotlight.” A private settlement meant a quiet death. I had no choices left. I had to detonate the entire situation. I had to make it so loud they couldn’t bury it. “Step away from the student.” The officer aggressively pushed my adoptive parents back. He turned to me, his tone shifting to something more neutral. “Son, walk me through exactly what happened.” I pointed a steady finger at Victoria. “Today, she intentionally collided with me on the main promenade. Then, she falsely accused me of harassing her in the woods. During the exact timeframe she claims the assault happened, I was standing directly beneath the campus gate security camera.” I then pointed at the pale, sweating Dean. “When I informed our Dean—who happens to be Victoria’s biological aunt—about my alibi, she immediately claimed the camera was broken. Based solely on her niece’s unverified accusation, she ordered me to get on my knees, apologize, and accept expulsion.” A reporter in the front row gasped loudly. “Wait, the Dean is covering up for her own niece to ruin a scholarship student?” Dean Sinclair’s face flushed dark red. “Do not listen to his manipulative lies! I am entirely impartial.” Victoria casually rolled her eyes and glanced at her minions. They took their cue perfectly. “Rowan is a liar! He bumped into her on purpose! I saw the whole thing!” “He has been obsessed with her for months! He is always creeping around trying to get her attention!” A reporter shoved a microphone toward them. “Are you talking about Victoria, the heiress to the tech fortune?” “Exactly! Rowan is just a disgusting peasant from the middle of nowhere. Use your brains, people. Who is framing who here?” The atmosphere shifted instantly. The reporters exchanged skeptical looks, their cameras turning back toward me with heavy judgment. Only the lead officer remained professional. “Are there any other witnesses to the alleged incident in the woods? Aside from the two parties involved?” A suffocating silence fell over the room. Then, the sound of expensive leather shoes clicked down the hallway. “I can personally vouch for the victim.” An older man in a bespoke suit walked through the crowd, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. It was Chancellor Wallace. “I have watched Victoria grow up since she was a little girl. I stake my decades of academic reputation on the fact that she does not lie.” “Chancellor Wallace, your reputation is noted,” the officer said politely but firmly. “But the law requires empirical evidence.” Seeing the police refuse to bow to campus royalty gave me a surge of hope. But then, another figure stepped out from the shadows of the corridor. Victoria, who hadn’t bothered standing up for the Chancellor, immediately leaped to her feet. “Sebastian! Are you here to testify for me?” She practically threw herself into his arms, her normally cold eyes melting into pure adoration. My stomach dropped into a bottomless pit. Sebastian was the campus prince. Old money, impeccable manners, and famously philanthropic. He was known for sitting down and eating with HIV patients just to combat social stigma. I had never cared about Victoria, but I had always genuinely admired Sebastian. I believed a guy with that kind of moral compass would never commit perjury. But Sebastian looked at the police officers and nodded with absolute certainty. “Yes. I am the eyewitness.” “I personally saw Rowan stalk and physically harass Victoria in the woods.” “Why?” I whispered, shaking my head in sheer disbelief. “Why are you lying to destroy me?” Sebastian looked deeply troubled, playing the role of the reluctant hero perfectly. He took a deep breath. “During the struggle in the woods, his shirt was torn. I saw a very distinct, bright red birthmark right over his left pectoral muscle.” “If you want to know who is lying, an immediate physical examination will settle it.” All the blood drained from my face. I could not form a single word. It was an incredibly intimate secret. Not even my college roommates of four years knew about it. How the hell did Sebastian know? It was utterly impossible. My deathly pale, stunned silence looked exactly like a confession to everyone in the room. Looks of sheer disgust rained down on me from every direction. I even saw the frat boys who had beaten me to death in my past life smirking in the back row. The police officer sighed heavily. “Rowan, do you consent to a physical examination?” The reporters immediately raised their glowing smartphones, preparing to live-stream my utter ruin. Slowly, the shock faded, leaving behind absolute clarity. The chaotic puzzle pieces in my mind snapped perfectly into place. “Yes.” I reached into my back pocket and pulled out a folded piece of heavy stock paper. I held it directly up to the closest camera lens. “But before you check my chest, you might want to look at this.” Like a drop of cold water hitting boiling oil, the entire room exploded.

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1 During an escape room game, my boyfriend and my best friend left me locked inside a coffin. They promised it would only be ten minutes. They said they would solve the final puzzle and come right back to let me out. But I ended up counting fifty blocks of ten minutes. Over eight hours in the dark. When the heavy wooden lid finally creaked open, it wasn’t Marcus or Ella waiting outside. It was a panicked, apologetic employee. Night had fallen by the time I stepped out of the venue. I called Marcus, and his voice on the other end was breezy, utterly unbothered. “Honestly, it slipped my mind.” “Nora, you’re so dense. If we didn’t show up, you should’ve just climbed out yourself.” Yet, on Ella’s Instagram, a photo of her and Marcus at Disneyland told a completely different story. Underneath their bright, smiling faces, the caption read: Ditched the scaredy-cat. Best day ever! In the bottom corner of the image, two annual passes peeked out of her purse. During my three years with Marcus, both he and Ella, who absolutely loved adrenaline rushes, had never ridden a single roller coaster or watched a single horror movie. They always claimed it was to protect my weak heart. I used to think it was a beautiful sacrifice, a testament to their love and care. Now, I realized it was just a quiet resentment they had wrapped up in a pretty bow. I stared at the Live Photo on my screen, watching the two of them scream with pure thrill as the coaster dropped. Then, I opened my email inbox and pulled up an old message: an offer from a prestigious research institute in London. They wouldn’t have to hold themselves back for me anymore. Sitting on a bench outside the escape room venue, I stared at Ella’s post. A mutual friend had commented: You guys go like a dozen times a year and still aren’t sick of it? I had never seen a single one of those trips on my feed. They had blocked me from seeing their stories for years. Marcus and Ella finally called me back, claiming they had received a last-minute job interview invite and completely lost track of time. “Nora, go wait for us at the diner next door,” Marcus urged. “We’re on our way now.” That “now” took another two hours. When they finally burst through the diner doors, panting and offering hurried apologies, they blamed the traffic. I kept my eyes on my lap. I had checked the navigation maps minutes ago; the roads were entirely clear. Two hours was exactly enough time for them to squeeze in one last ride before leaving the theme park. At the table, they ordered a massive spread of my favorite mild, healthy dishes. But neither of them touched a single bite. They hated bland food. Halfway through the meal, they exchanged a quick look. “Your heart might be acting up from the scare earlier, Nora,” Marcus said, standing up. “I’ll run to the pharmacy and grab your meds.” Ella stood up right after him. “And I drank way too much water. I need to use the restroom.” I watched them disappear around the corner, heading straight for the hot wing joint next door. When they returned ten minutes later, Ella’s lips were swollen and bright red. Marcus’s nose was flushed from the heat. I waved down our waiter. “Could we get two cans of ice-cold Coke, please?” They both froze. I pushed the cans toward them, my voice completely flat. “On the house. The restaurant gave them to us because we hit the minimum spend.” Only then did their shoulders drop, their expressions relaxing. On the drive home, Marcus checked the health data synced from my smartwatch. When he saw my heart rate had spiked to 180 beats per minute inside the coffin, his brow furrowed in annoyance. He turned to Ella, his voice sharp with blame. “This is on you. Why did you insist on bringing Nora to an escape room?” “You’re the one who agreed to it!” Ella shot back. “Stop,” I whispered. “I won’t go again.” Only then did they quiet down. The truth was, I had begged them for months to let me join them just this once. Usually, they spent days planning our outings, filtering out anything even remotely risky. No hiking near steep cliffs, no horror movies, and strict dietary checks. Everything exciting was a forbidden zone. Whenever I told them they didn’t need to baby me, they would say in unison: “No way! We’re a team, everyone has to have fun.” I had believed them. Now I realized I was just a chore they had to manage. Back at our shared apartment, Ella’s tote bag was slumped on the sofa. A furry blue monster headband peeked out of the half-open zipper. It was a character from a popular animated movie. It suddenly clicked. A few days ago, Marcus had tried on a goofy, matching blue monster hoodie, checking himself out in the mirror and asking me if he looked handsome. He was usually so serious, yet he had posed in that childish hoodie for twenty minutes. It matched Ella’s headband perfectly. Leaving me behind hadn’t been a sudden mistake. It was a carefully orchestrated date. I told Marcus to make sure Ella got home safely and went straight to my room. But Marcus didn’t even wait a minute before slipping in after me. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his touch familiar and suffocating. As he did, his phone screen lit up on the nightstand. A notification popped up: Your booking for the tandem skydiving experience is confirmed. See you soon! The date was our fifth anniversary. The next second, Marcus whispered into my hair, “Nora, I have to head back to my hometown on our anniversary. Family stuff.” “What a coincidence,” I said softly. “I have plans that day too.” “We’ll make up for it later, okay?” I didn’t answer. My plans for that day involved going to the consulate to secure my visa. There would be no “later” for us. The next afternoon, feeling guilty, they suggested a movie night at home to keep me company. They chose a slow, artsy drama. Twenty minutes in, Marcus was yawning continuously, and Ella was scrolling through her phone. Every now and then, they would lean in close, whispering and giggling at something on her screen. When I got up to get a glass of water, I heard Ella whisper, “This movie is agonizing.” “Just hang in there,” Marcus murmured, rubbing her shoulder. “You know Nora can’t handle anything intense. Next month, we’ll do the skydiving trip. Did you watch the video I sent you?” Ella nodded eagerly. “Yes! It looks insane. We should sneak away for it the next time we take her hiking.” Hiking. Over the years, we had gone to parks and nature trails. But every single time, the two of them would fall behind. Marcus would claim he was looking for a beautiful leaf to give me. Ella would say she was chasing away bugs. I had always slowed my pace, waiting for them to catch up, only for them to return empty-handed and breathless. They had been using every spare second to slip away and chase the cheap thrills they denied themselves around me. I walked back into the living room and said, “I’m feeling a bit tired. I think I’ll head to bed. Why don’t you guys put on something you actually like?” Marcus’s face instantly cleared. Within minutes, the low, creepy soundtrack of a bloody slasher film echoed through the apartment. I shut my bedroom door, blocking out their laughter, and opened my laptop. I pulled up the email from the London research institute. I typed a quick reply to the HR coordinator: Hello, my visa appointment is booked. I look forward to joining the team as soon as possible. They replied almost instantly, confirming my start date. A knock sounded on my door. Marcus walked in carrying a mug of warm herbal tea, perfectly brewed. He was always so attentive. But my eyes drifted past him to the living room table. There sat a massive pitcher of rum and coke alongside boxes of blazing hot takeout, dripping with spicy red oil. Bold, fiery, and exciting. Meanwhile, my tea was tepid, bland, and safe. “I know you don’t like spicy food, so I didn’t ask,” Marcus said, noticing my gaze. “It’s fine,” I murmured. He squeezed my hand. “Let’s go hiking this weekend. Didn’t you want to visit the historic chapel on the mountain to draw a fortune slip?” I had wanted to go for months. With graduation approaching, I wanted to pray for their career success, to pray that the three of us would never grow apart. But they had always claimed they were too busy with job interviews, pretending to be stressed out and exhausted. Now, they suddenly had time. I knew why. The mountain had recently opened a new cliffside rappelling course. Looking at his gentle smile, I said, “Okay.” Only this time, the wish wouldn’t be for them. On Saturday, we drove to the mountain. Marcus packed everything with his usual meticulous care: bug spray, rain ponchos, and snacks. He handed me an insulated bag with four sandwiches he had made. “Keep these in here. They’ll last a couple of days.” “I thought we’d be back by noon?” I asked. Marcus stiffened slightly, then recovered with a quick laugh. “Just in case you want to feed the stray dogs on the trail.” When Ella arrived, she twirled me around. “Nora! You look beautiful in that pastel pink set I bought you!” It was a soft, pale pink. She had told me it matched my gentle personality and that we had matching sister outfits. But Ella wasn’t wearing hers today. She was dressed in bright, neon orange. When Marcus walked out of his room, he was wearing the exact same shade of vibrant orange. Ella playfully punched his arm. “Copycat! Why are you wearing orange? You look ridiculous.” “You’re the one who looks like a neon traffic cone,” Marcus joked back. Same brand, same glaring color. I looked at them. “Do you guys not like the shirts I bought you? I’ve never seen you wear them.” Their laughter died instantly. “They’re in the wash,” Marcus stammered. “They’re too nice to ruin on a dusty hike,” Ella chimed in. The same old excuses. I used to think it was just bad timing. Now I knew they simply hated my taste, yet they had pretended to love the gifts anyway. Before I could think further, they pulled me out the door. The front passenger seat had always been my spot. It had the soft, light-colored seat covers I liked and the plush toys Marcus had won for me. He had even started the AC before we got in. It was perfect care, but it felt hollow. In the back seat, Ella cracked open a cold beer and popped some spicy chips. She gasped from the heat, complaining, “Your driving is awful today, Marcus.” “Still better than yours,” Marcus snapped. “Remember last time when we…” He stopped abruptly. The car fell dead silent. Another “last time” I was never told about. I stared out the window. Soon, a massive billboard for the mountain rappelling course flashed by. “They opened rappelling up there,” I murmured. “Do you guys want to try?” They answered almost in unison. “No way,” Marcus said, squeezing my hand. “It’s too dangerous. Your heart couldn’t handle it.” “We’re here for you today, Nora,” Ella added, leaning forward. “Don’t worry about us.” But as we started up the trail, their minds were clearly elsewhere. Their eyes kept darting to the directional signs for the rappelling ledge. Halfway up, Marcus used his usual routine. “There might be snakes ahead. I’ll go scout the trail.” Ella immediately chimed in. “I’m parched. I’ll run back down to the trail shop and grab us some water.” They vanished down the side path with practiced ease. This time, I didn’t stand there waiting. I turned and walked up toward the chapel alone. By the time I came out of the chapel, a torrential downpour had started. I pulled on the rain poncho Marcus had packed, but the wind was too strong, and within minutes, I was soaked to the bone. The mountain path became a muddy slide, and my foot slipped, twisting my ankle with a sharp crack of pain. Limping, I made my way down to the mid-mountain medical station. Near the rappelling platform, I saw two figures in bright orange suits, locked in a tight, joyous embrace before leaping off the ledge together. Their wild laughter echoed through the rain. They looked so light, so free. And I felt so heavy. Why couldn’t they just tell me the truth? Why did they have to construct an elaborate cage of lies just to spare my feelings? A rushed tourist accidentally collided with me, knocking the fortune card I had drawn from my hand. It fell into a puddle, turning into a soggy mess of paper. I knelt in the mud, desperately trying to piece the fragments back together, my tears mixing with the rain. My eyes burned far worse than my swollen ankle. Suddenly, a hand gripped my shoulder. I looked up to see Marcus and Ella. Marcus scooped me up, his voice trembling. “Why did you wander off? We told you to wait!” Ella held a bottle of juice, her clothes caked in mud. “Nora, we went back and you were gone! You scared us to death!” Her eyes were red, spilling over with real tears. But as I looked past them, I saw the two people in orange walking down from the rappelling landing zone. They were complete strangers. Marcus hoisted me onto his back. “Forget the ruined card. I’ll carry you back up to get a new one.” He began trudging back up the muddy trail, Ella hovering close by, her eyes glued to me. Inside the smoky, quiet chapel, my hands shook as Marcus handed me the wooden canister of wishing sticks. I closed my eyes, gave it a gentle shake, and a single slip fell to the floor. It was the worst possible omen. I didn’t ask the monk to translate it. I slipped it into my pocket and walked out to find Marcus and Ella, who were whispering near the courtyard. “Nora has been acting strange lately,” Ella whispered. “She even asked about the rappelling. I knew she’d come looking for us.” “Thank god we took the cable car down right after we finished,” Marcus replied, sounding relieved. “Otherwise, she would have caught us red-handed.” “Paying those two strangers to wear our orange gear was genius,” Ella giggled quietly. “Now she’ll just think she’s being paranoid. She won’t doubt us again.” My fingernails dug deep into my palms. I said nothing, turning back toward the main hall. When they caught up with me, they eagerly asked what my fortune said. I pulled out the slip and handed it to them. A shared path cannot stretch a thousand miles; this lifetime is destined for an early parting. Their faces went pale. “This is garbage!” Marcus hissed, crumpling the paper into a tight ball. Ella hugged me tightly, her voice shaking. “Nora, I’m never letting you go.” I only murmured, “Let’s head down. We need to pack for the move.” They had both signed with the same company in San Diego. They claimed they had turned down prestigious offers in Boston just so I could live in a milder, warmer climate. I had told them they didn’t have to, but they had ignored me, already planning out our lives. They discussed which neighborhood we’d live in, what style of furniture to buy, and which local spots to visit. They had even chosen a job for me: a braindead, dead-end desk job at a tiny local firm. “We’ll take care of you,” Marcus had said, ruffling my hair with patronizing affection. “You don’t need to stress yourself out.” They seemed to forget that I had graduated at the top of my class, winning the university’s highest honors. Multiple top-tier firms had fought to recruit me. On moving day, they insisted I rest and handle none of the heavy lifting. They packed my things with extreme care and loaded them into the truck. But when they slammed the truck doors shut and drove off, they didn’t even notice I wasn’t in the car. It wasn’t until they were halfway down the highway that Marcus realized. His call came through, frantic. “Nora! Where are you?” “At the airport,” I said. I heard both of them sigh with immense relief over the speaker. Marcus chuckled. “Well, flying is much easier on your heart anyway. Glad you didn’t have to suffer through a long drive.” Staring at my boarding pass for a flight to London, I said nothing. This time, I was flying in the opposite direction.

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1 My wife and daughter claimed they could cross into another world through our TV, where they had another home and family. On Father’s Day, Lily announced she’d spend the day with “Daddy Nathan,” her “real dad” there. For our anniversary, Evelyn brushed off my new suit, saying her other-world husband was waiting. Even when I had a raging fever, they rushed out to meet Nathan at an amusement park. Over the Fourth of July, they vanished for a week. Returning, Evelyn cradled a newborn. Lily proudly declared him “the baby brother Daddy Nathan gave me.” Evelyn added, “Nathan thinks you should raise him. You’re not productive anyway.” I grabbed her wrist, shaking. “This is an affair! Do you care about us?” She yanked free, impatient. “He’s in another dimension. We’ll never meet. What are you jealous of?” Taking Lily’s hand, she headed for the living room. “Come on, sweetie. Back through the portal to Daddy Nathan.” As they walked away, I dialed the electronics recycler. “I need an old TV hauled tomorrow morning.” … The next afternoon, Evelyn and Lily stepped out of the television. The moment they crossed the threshold, they froze. Usually, lunch would be waiting on the dining table. The dishes would be piping hot, the soup simmering, and their favorite snacks neatly arranged on the coffee table. Today, there was nothing. The table was bare, the floors unswept. The baby lay alone on the sofa, his voice raspy from crying for hours. I was sitting in the darkest corner of the room, watching the baby cry without moving an inch. Evelyn’s face fell. She rushed over and scooped the baby into her arms. “What is wrong with you?” I remained silent. “Are you deaf? The baby is screaming his lungs out and you’re just sitting there? No food, no cleaning… what do you even do all day?” She glared at me. “I ask you to do one simple thing, to help watch a child, and you fail miserably. No wonder my husband in the other world is ten times better than you. He actually knows how to be useful.” Lily stood beside her, her expression dripping with disgust. “You’re a terrible dad. Daddy Nathan is always gentle. He keeps his house spotless, plays with me, and takes great care of baby brother.” She crossed her arms and added, “If the TV portal didn’t have a twelve-hour limit every day, Mommy and I would never come back here. We hate looking at your face.” In the past, hearing those words would have sent me into a panic. I would have leaped up, apologized profusely, run to the kitchen, and swallowed my pride just to keep the peace. Today, I didn’t budge. I just stared at them, completely silent. Evelyn assumed I was playing passive-aggressive games. She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to soothing the crying infant. Lily sneered and ran off to find her toys. Neither of them noticed the absolute coldness in my eyes. I looked at Lily’s young face, remembering how she used to cry through the night when she was a newborn. Evelyn was always busy with her career, so I never let her wake up once. I kept telling myself that if I just got through this phase, things would get better. When Lily was two, she became terrified of strangers. I quit my job to become a stay-at-home dad just to give her a sense of security. I told myself again, just get through this phase. When she was three, she tripped and cut her forehead. I held her tight as we sped to the emergency room. She got three stitches, and I cried harder than she did. The doctor told me that kids don’t remember early trauma, that she would forget it when she grew up. She did forget. She forgot everything I had ever done for her. Now, she stood before me, summarizing my ten years of devotion with a single word: terrible. Evelyn handed the baby to Lily and began packing a bag with formula, baby food, fresh clothes, and a few small toys. “Come on, Lily,” Evelyn said. “Let’s head to the supermarket. We need to buy your brother some new clothes, and pick up some of the groceries Nathan likes.” Lily’s eyes lit up. She hurried after her mother, barely slipping her shoes on before rushing out the door. The heavy click of the front door echoed through the empty house. I was alone again. I walked over to the television and stared at it for a long time. The screen was black. In its glossy reflection, I saw my own face. My eyes were bloodshot, my hair disheveled, my skin pale. I looked like a stranger. I had foolishly believed that if I worked hard enough and loved them gently enough, they would eventually appreciate me. But yesterday, when Evelyn stood at the door holding another man’s child and demanded I raise it, something shifted. It wasn’t anger, and it wasn’t sadness. It was a sudden, terrifying clarity. It was never about me not being good enough. It was simply that they had decided, a long time ago, that I would always be the very last thing on their list. 2 Late that night, a fever took hold of me. By the time Evelyn and Lily came back, I was slipping in and out of consciousness. The moment they walked in, they began organizing their haul. The new baby clothes were folded neatly into a storage box, and the gourmet ingredients bought for Nathan were packed into the fridge. Evelyn finished up, turned around, and began rattling off instructions in her usual demanding tone. “Starting tomorrow, feed the baby at seven in the morning, noon, and right before bed. Change his diaper every three hours. Wash his clothes the day they get dirty; do not let them pile up.” I leaned against the bedroom doorframe, barely able to keep my eyes open. “Nathan said he is worried about leaving the baby with you, so he told me to keep a close eye on things,” she added, not even looking at me. “You don’t have anything else to do anyway, so just make sure you get this right.” Lily nodded solemnly beside her. “Yeah, you need to take good care of baby brother. No slacking off. Daddy Nathan works so hard, you can’t let him down.” I parted my dry, cracked lips. “I have a fever.” Evelyn frowned. “A fever?” “Yes.” She glanced at me, her eyes lingering on my pale face for less than two seconds before darting away. “Drink some hot water and take some ibuprofen. It can’t be that bad.” I took a deep, shaky breath, gripping the doorframe to stay upright. “Can you please grab the medicine for me? It’s in the cabinet. I’m too dizzy to stand.” She didn’t move. Instead, her eyes drifted toward the television. I followed her gaze. The screen was already glowing, the portal’s countdown timer ticking away. “Can you stop being so difficult?” her voice snapped with irritation. “Nathan worked a double shift last night, and we finally have a chance to go over and keep him company. You just have to ruin it, don’t you?” She sighed. “It’s just a fever. Stop being so incredibly selfish.” I stared at her, the silence stretching between us. Lily stepped around her mother, looking up at me like a disapproving adult. “You’re acting like a baby, always causing trouble,” Lily said. “Daddy Nathan never complains when he’s sick, and he still takes care of us. He’s the best dad.” She paused, pointing a finger at me. “Make sure you watch my baby brother. If you mess up and make Daddy Nathan sad, Mommy and I will be furious.” She grabbed Evelyn’s hand. “Mommy, hurry! The portal is going to close!” Evelyn squeezed her hand, and together they stepped toward the glowing television screen. A second later, they vanished into the light. The living room plunged back into quiet. I stood there, my muscles aching, my head throbbing, my ears ringing with a high-pitched buzz. I limped over to the television and struck the side of the plastic frame. The screen flickered violently, suddenly displaying a live feed of the other side. It looked like a security camera feed. In a cozy kitchen, a man wearing an apron stood by a stove. Evelyn walked up behind him, leaning in close to whisper something. He laughed and playfully nudged her away, her face lighting up with joy. Lily sat at the dining table drawing. “Daddy!” she called out. The man smiled and walked over, praising her drawing. Lily beamed and planted a kiss on his cheek. They looked like a perfect, happy family. After dinner, Evelyn helped him clear the table, and Lily eagerly offered to wash the dishes. The man tried to stop her. “Go play, sweetie. I’ve got this.” Evelyn wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “Let her do it. Go sit down and rest.” Lily rolled up her sleeves and stood by the sink, looking back with a bright grin. “Look, Daddy! I learned how to wash dishes!” The man watched her, his eyes welling with touched tears. Watching the screen, the final piece of my heart shattered into dust. They weren’t incapable of helping around the house. They were willing to fight over who got to wash the dishes for him, but they couldn’t spare three seconds to hand me a single pill. 3 Evelyn and Lily returned promptly at noon the next day. I was still in bed, having survived the night through sheer willpower. “Mommy, I bet baby brother is going to roll over today!” “Really? Let’s go see.” I heard their footsteps head toward the living room, followed by a sudden silence. A moment later, Evelyn’s heavy steps marched toward the bedroom. She threw the door open and yanked me up from the mattress. “Did you miss his night feeding?” “I had a fever,” I whispered, my throat raw. “I don’t care!” she barked. “A baby cannot miss a feeding! Do you have any idea how bad that is for him?” I looked into her cold eyes. “I burned up all night. You didn’t bring me medicine or water. I had to crawl out of bed to find the pills myself. I still got up to soothe him when he cried…” “Enough, enough,” she waved her hand dismissively. “I’m asking about the baby. Why are you bringing up your own drama?” Lily peeked through the crack of the door, seeing me still lying down, and scoffed. “You are so lazy. What if baby brother got hungry? Daddy Nathan would be devastated if he knew.” Evelyn pulled out her phone, checking the living room security feed. Her expression darkened further. “You spent almost the entire afternoon in bed. How many times did you feed him? Did you even change his diaper?” “Once,” I said. “Only once?” “My temperature was 102 degrees.” She stared at me as if I were a stubborn child who refused to understand basic logic. “So what if you had a fever? Feeding a child is a basic human duty. If you can’t even handle that, what use are you to this family?” She stepped closer, her voice rising. “Just because you felt a little under the weather, you decided to neglect a helpless infant?” “How old is he? He can’t feed himself! Do you have a single shred of responsibility left in you?” “You don’t care about anyone but yourself.” She began grabbing my arm, trying to drag me out of bed while dialing her phone. “Get up. I’m calling an ambulance. Go to the hospital. If you stay here and infect us, we won’t be able to go back to the other world. Do you understand?” Lily nodded in agreement. “Yeah, go to the hospital, Dad. What if you make Daddy Nathan sick?” “He has a weak immune system. If he catches your germs, Mommy and I will never forgive you.” I looked at the two of them standing side by side. Their expressions were identical, painted with the same chilling sense of entitlement. I suddenly laughed. I laughed at the realization of how many years I had wasted worrying about these two ungrateful people. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll go.” The ambulance arrived quickly. The paramedics loaded me onto a gurney. “Is any family coming with him?” one of the paramedics asked. Evelyn stood by the doorway, shaking her head. “No. He can manage on his own.” The paramedic blinked, looking between her and me. “The patient has a very high fever. It’s much better if someone accompanies him…” “He’ll be fine,” Evelyn interrupted, her tone sharp. “I have a baby to look after. I can’t leave the house.” The paramedics didn’t argue. They wheeled me out. I spent three days in the hospital. During that time, neither Evelyn nor Lily visited me once. They didn’t even send a text. I opened my phone and checked our home security cameras. Unsurprisingly, they entered the television portal right on schedule every day, returning only at the very last second. On the fourth day, I was discharged. It happened to be Lily’s first day back at school. Out of old habit, I walked her to the school gates. One of her classmates called out her name, and the two girls began whispering. Lily laughed, her voice loud and proud. “I have two dads, you know!” Her friend looked confused. “Two?” “Yeah!” Lily bragged. “One lives in another world, and one lives in my house. Daddy Nathan in the other world is the best. He never yells, he plays with me, cooks delicious meals, and loves me the most.” She rolled her eyes and sighed. “The dad at home is useless. He just nags and complains. I absolutely hate him.” The classmate didn’t say anything, but she glanced awkwardly at me. Their teacher walked over, kneeling down to look at Lily. “Lily, you shouldn’t talk about your father like that.” Lily looked at the teacher, completely unbothered. “But it’s the truth.” The teacher frowned, about to speak, when Lily suddenly turned around and shoved me. “I wish Daddy Nathan could stay with me forever,” she shouted. “I don’t want you!” I was still weak from the hospital and lost my balance, falling backward onto the pavement. Lily didn’t even look back as she ran through the gates and disappeared into the crowd. As I sat there on the cold concrete, my phone buzzed. It was the electronics recycling company. “Hi, we have an opening tomorrow morning. Would that work for you?” “Yes,” I said, brushing the dirt off my palms. “Tomorrow morning. I’ll be waiting.” 4 I didn’t go to pick Lily up that afternoon. When she finally walked through the front door, her face was twisted with rage. “Why didn’t you pick me up?” I sat on the sofa and didn’t answer. “Every other kid had their parents waiting for them! I had to walk home all by myself!” She threw her backpack onto the floor. “What do you even do all day? You’re so lazy you can’t even remember your own daughter?” I kept my eyes on her, silent. She huffed, turning around to forage for snacks in the pantry. I watched her small back, remembering how I used to stand outside her school gates every single day, holding her favorite treats, ready to take her bag and ask how her day was. She had always pushed me away, eager to get home and rush to the TV so she could see Nathan. When Evelyn came home from work, she tossed a heavy grocery bag onto the kitchen counter. Lily immediately ran over and wrapped her arms around her mother’s leg. “Mommy! I miss Daddy Nathan and baby brother so much! Can we please go see them now?” Evelyn smiled warmly, stroking her hair. “Of course, sweetie. Right now.” She turned to me, her warm expression instantly freezing into a cold glare. “Cook these groceries. I want to take the meals inside with us tonight.” I didn’t argue. Instead, I pulled a stack of documents from the drawer and handed them to her along with a pen. “Sign these first,” I said. “They’re utility authorizations and some administrative paperwork.” Evelyn grabbed the pen and scribbled her signature on the lines I pointed to, not even bothering to read a single word. She shoved the papers back into my hands. “There. Now hurry up and cook.” She had no idea that the very bottom sheet of that stack was a mutual divorce agreement. I put the papers away and quietly walked into the kitchen. Behind me, Evelyn’s voice drifted through the air. “Look how perfect this is. I spend half my time with you, and the other half with Nathan. Everyone gets a piece of the pie. No one loses.” She chuckled. “Don’t overthink it. He’s over there, you’re over here, you’ll never cross paths. It’s peaceful. You just stay home, cook, take care of the baby, and I’ll make sure your allowance is paid on time.” I finished cooking and packed the food into neat containers, handing them to her. She looked pleased and patted Lily on the shoulder. “Let’s go find your father and brother.” They walked over to the television, the screen flared with light, and they stepped through, vanishing into the glow. I stood in the center of the dark living room, watching the television screen. On the display, Nathan was setting the table. Evelyn opened the containers, and Lily leaned in happily. “Daddy, look! Mommy brought more delicious food!” The man smiled warmly, taking the boxes. “Thank you, girls.” They gathered around the table, laughing and preparing to eat. I turned around and walked into my bedroom, lying down on the mattress. I closed my eyes. The dose of sleeping pills I had crushed into that food was more than enough to put them all into a deep, uninterrupted sleep on the other side. A sleep long enough for the recycling crew to arrive. Long enough for the television to be taken away. Long enough for everything to end. At eight the next morning, the recycling crew knocked on my door. They walked into the living room and eyed the television. “This the one?” “Yes,” I replied. As the worker reached for the power cord, I spoke up. “If the screen is shattered and the frame is broken, do you still take it?” The worker paused. “Yeah, we mostly just strip them down for the internal components to sell back to manufacturers. We don’t care if the casing is damaged.” I walked over to the hall closet and pulled out a heavy claw hammer. The worker’s eyes widened, but he didn’t say a word. I raised the hammer, aimed directly at the center of the screen, and swung with everything I had. The sharp, deafening crack of imploding glass shattered the quiet of the room. The screen splintered instantly, a web of fractures spreading across the dark glass before it went completely dead. I swung a second time. Then a third. Every blow was heavy, landing square in the center. Pieces of glass rained down onto the hardwood floor with a soft, metallic clatter. The worker stood by, completely speechless. I stopped, letting the hammer slip from my hand to clatter onto the floor. I looked at the ruined, hollow shell of the machine. My voice was quiet and cold. “It’s ready. You can take it now.”

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1 Past midnight after my twelfth surgery, exhaustion and cramps left me bent double. Shivering, I went to Preston’s office for my cashmere blanket. He already had it draped over Brooke. “She’s fragile,” he said coldly. “You’re stronger, Summer. Don’t be difficult.” For three years, I’d written his charts, covered his shifts, taken abuse from families. His only praise: “You’re always the mature one.” Now I saw maturity meant being left in the cold. Brooke settled in as he handed her hot brown sugar water. I stood nearby, scrubs stiff with blood, invisible to him. Silently, I walked out and dropped my engagement ring in the trash. Ten minutes later, his text buzzed: Stop the tantrum. I’ll make it up after my shift. The hundredth time. I opened my email and clicked the fellowship invitation I’d ignored for months. … At the morning sign-out the next day, I dragged my sleep-deprived body into the conference room and placed three complex ICU charts on the table. Every page had been typed out, letter by letter, while I fought off waves of abdominal pain the night before. Preston walked in. Ignoring my pale face, he swept the charts off the table and handed them straight to Brooke. My heart contracted, leaving a heavy, suffocating weight in my chest. I remembered my first year of residency. I had cried in his office because I couldn’t draft a proper clinical chart. He had held my hand, guiding my pen, and whispered: “Summer, your handwriting is as beautiful as your heart. It’s meant to save lives. This is our silent partnership.” Now, that partnership felt like a slap in the face. Brooke, still wrapped in my cashmere blanket, looked up with an air of fragile innocence. “Preston, Summer stayed up all night to write these. She should present them. I don’t want to steal her thunder.” As she spoke, her eyes locked onto mine, flashing a brief, triumphant smirk. Preston’s voice cut through the room, cold and warning. “Brooke is still recovering from an illness. Who are you glaring at, Summer? You could learn a thing or two about her thoughtfulness.” A sharp, stabbing pain bloomed in my chest, and my vision blurred for a second. Ignoring Preston entirely, I looked at Brooke. “Is a stolen blanket really that warm?” Her eyes instantly welled with tears. Preston stepped in front of her, shielding her from my view. I remembered a time when I had argued passionately with the department chief over a rare disease treatment plan. I had been red-faced and furious, nearly slamming my hands on the table. Afterward, Preston had pulled me into the empty stairwell, pinching my cheek with a fond laugh: “I love how fierce you are. You never let anyone walk over you, my little thorny rose.” But now, that same fierceness only annoyed him. During grand rounds, the hospital leadership requested an update on our cardiogenic shock research. This project had been my obsession for the past three months, costing me endless sleepless nights. I raised my hand, though my arm felt like lead. Preston’s gaze swept over me, completely ignoring my hand, and landed on Brooke. “Dr. Brooke is the primary contributor to this project. It is only fitting that she presents the findings.” Brooke walked up to the podium, holding my notes, and began reading the slides with a hesitant, stuttering voice. Preston had once told me that this research would be our shared crown, the ultimate graduation gift for my residency. Now, he was handing my gift to someone else. After the meeting, he cornered me in the hallway. “The paper will be published in a major medical journal soon,” he said, his tone entirely matter-of-fact. “I want you to give Brooke the first-author credit. She needs the publication for her upcoming promotion.” Looking at his handsome, entitled face, I felt a tremor of rage run through me. My heart went completely cold. I squeezed my fists so hard my nails bit into my palms, forcing back the tears. Then, I smiled. “Sure,” I said. He seemed taken adjust by how easily I had surrendered, blinking in surprise. “I knew I could count on you. You’re always so reasonable.” I turned and walked away, pulling out my phone. I opened our shared research group chat, titled Cardiology Vanguard, and without a second thought, tapped Leave Group. To celebrate the initial approval of the cardiogenic shock paper, the department booked a private room at a high-end restaurant across the street. This dinner should have been my celebration. Instead, at the main table, colleagues took turns raising their glasses to Brooke. Brooke shrank behind Preston, her voice dripping with artificial modesty. “Thank you, everyone, but Preston won’t let me touch a drop of alcohol. He says my health is too delicate.” Preston smiled, naturally taking the glass from her hand. His eyes, as he looked at her, were filled with a soft, protective indulgence. “Alcohol is terrible for her recovery. I’ll drink her share.” For the next half hour, he drank glass after glass to shield her, the two of them looking every bit like a devoted couple amidst the cheers of our colleagues. I sat in the farthest corner of the room, my body shivering as the menstrual cramps worsened. I kept my head down, biting my lip to keep from throwing up. Suddenly, the deputy chief of the department walked over to me, glass in hand. “Summer! You’re the backbone of this research team. You’ve worked so hard, you have to drink with me!” The pain was so intense I could barely stand. I forced myself to rise, holding up my glass of warm water. “I’m so sorry, Chief. I’m not feeling well tonight. Let me toast you with water instead…” Before I could finish, a hand slid over mine. Preston easily took the water glass from my grip, picked up a bottle of liquor, and poured me a generous shot. “Come on, Summer,” he murmured in a low, coaxing voice. “The chief has always championed you. Everyone is having a good time, so don’t act like a child.” The cold glass seeped into my palm, sending a shiver up my spine. I looked at the man I had loved for five years, my voice barely a whisper. “I’m on my period, Preston. The pain is unbearable.” “And I have a severe alcohol allergy,” I added, my voice cracking with desperation. “I’ll go into anaphylactic shock. Have you forgotten?” When we were sophomores in college, I had accidentally eaten a chocolate filled with liquor. My airway had swollen shut within minutes, and I had nearly died in the emergency room. That night, Preston had broken every bottle of alcohol in his apartment, crying as he held me close. He had sworn: “Summer, I will never let a single drop of alcohol near you again. If I can’t even protect the woman I love, I don’t deserve to be a doctor.” Now, he didn’t look angry. He only sighed, his expression tinged with irritation. “Summer, that was years ago. Your immune system has gotten much stronger since then. Just take a sip or two, and I’ll drink the rest.” “With me right here, what could possibly happen to you? Just be good.” My chest ached so badly I could barely draw breath. Right then, Brooke walked over, holding a glass of dark liquor filled to the brim with ice. She held it right up to my face. “Summer, I know you’re upset about the paper’s authorship,” she said, her voice sounding like a sweet poison. “Let’s drink to put it behind us, okay?” The smell of the alcohol made my stomach heave, and I instinctively stepped back. But Preston’s hand slid around my waist, locking me in place. “Summer, Brooke is offering you a peace treaty,” he whispered near my ear. “You can throw your tantrums at home, but give me some face in front of our colleagues.” “Drink it, and I’ll take you out for your favorite dumplings afterward, okay?” A violent cramp ripped through my abdomen, and sweat beaded on my forehead. Looking at Preston’s familiar, gentle, yet utterly heartless face, a wave of absolute despair washed over me. I violently shoved his hand away. “Are you sure you want me to drink this, Preston?” I rolled up my right sleeve, exposing the jagged scar on my wrist from the emergency venous line they had cut to save my life during my last allergic shock. I thrust it right into his face. “If I drink this, I will suffocate on this floor! Are you so eager to please her that you want me dead?” The room went dead silent. Every conversation cut off instantly. Preston stared at the scar, a flicker of genuine shock crossing his features. But my gaze had already drifted to Brooke’s wrist. There, glittering under the restaurant lights, was a rare, limited-edition watch. It was the watch I had left in the hospital call room, the one Preston had gifted me last year. He had told me: “Every tick of this watch represents a heartbeat of mine for you.” It turned out his heartbeats were cheap enough to be handed out to anyone. I reached into my pocket, pulled out the engagement ring I had retrieved from the trash can earlier, and dropped it into Brooke’s glass with a sharp splash. “The wedding is off, Preston. Consider the research paper my parting donation to your new life.” “Don’t ever make me sick again.” Droplets of alcohol splashed onto Preston’s expensive shirt. When he looked up, his eyes held only a cold, patronizing authority. “Summer, you used to be so mature. You’re disappointing me today.” He loosened his tie, his voice flat and certain. “Walk out that door, and you can spend the next few days reflecting on your behavior. When you’re ready to stop acting like a child, come find me.” “But until then, don’t expect me to reach out.” I let out a cold laugh, turned on my heel, and walked out without looking back. He had no idea that just an hour ago, I had liquidated the joint investment portfolio I had set up under my name for our house down payment. I had sold the entire balance of two hundred thousand dollars at a loss, forcing him to absorb the massive financial hit. I was going to make sure he felt every single penny of that loss. The morning after I submitted my transfer request, the alarms in the cardiothoracic ward blared, shattering the peace of the hospital. A critical patient, who had been transferred from the general ward to the ICU the night before, had gone into acute heart failure. The cause was a lethal overdose of Deslanoside, a powerful cardiac medication. The administration launched an immediate investigation. Within hours, the digital footprint was uncovered. The electronic signature that authorized the fatal dose belonged to my account. The timestamp read 2:00 AM. Instantly, my colleagues looked at me with cold, accusing eyes. Rage and panic rushed to my head, leaving my limbs numb. I could barely stand. I immediately demanded to see the shift logs. At 2:00 AM, I wasn’t even in the hospital building. I had been curled up in my apartment, crying from menstrual pain. How could I have logged into the system? Brooke was sobbing behind Preston, looking pale and fragile. She offered a tearful, stuttering defense, claiming she had only “borrowed” my login to look up some reference files. She claimed she must have bumped the keyboard by mistake, leading to the error. “Summer, I’m so sorry… I really didn’t mean to…” She wept as if she were the victim here, making my teeth chatter with pure fury. “By mistake?” I yelled. “Brooke, you’ve been an assistant surgeon for five years! You’re telling me you accidentally ordered a lethal dose of a high-risk medication?” I demanded that security pull the footage from the nurse’s station and verify the IP logs to prove my innocence. But Preston grabbed my arm, dragging me away from the administration office. He slammed a pre-printed document onto my chest. The sharp edge of the paper sliced across my cheek, leaving a stinging red line. It was a Resident Clinical Error Confession Form. He spoke in a sickening, patronizing tone, trying to force me to take the fall for her. “Summer, just sign it. An incident like this will ruin Brooke’s career. But you’re different, you’re just a resident. Once she gets her promotion, I’ll use my father’s connections to get you into a fully funded PhD program. Think of this as a temporary sacrifice.” He reached out to touch my shoulder. “You’ll help us, right? You’re always the mature one.” Staring at the paper that would destroy my license and my entire career, and looking at the man who was willing to ruin my life to shield his mistress, the last of my sanity burned away. With trembling hands, I tore the confession form to pieces right in front of the hospital board. Then, I threw the paper shreds straight into his handsome face. “Clean up your own garbage, Preston!” By that afternoon, an official email was sent to the entire hospital: Resident Summer Offen Suspended Indefinitely for Major Clinical Error. My phone exploded with messages. My old mentors expressed their deep disappointment, while the interns whispered in chat groups about how my quiet demeanor had been a mask for incompetence. I hid in the empty stairwell, my back pressed against the cold concrete wall. My throat felt dry, and my chest throbbed with a suffocating weight. Just then, my father called. “Summer, did you and Preston have a fight? The news says…” He sighed. “Don’t be foolish, sweetheart. Preston is a good man.” Hearing his voice, the dam broke. I covered my mouth to muffle my tears, hung up the phone, and curled into a ball on the cold floor. My screen lit up again. It was a text from Preston: Take a couple of days to calm down. Stop being stubborn. I’ll smooth this over, and once the dust settles, we’ll get our marriage license. That arrogant, charitable tone felt like a knife twisting in my chest. I blocked his number and deleted every trace of him from my phone. On the third day of my suspension, I returned to the department to pack up my belongings. When I pushed open the office door, I found Brooke playing with my custom, hand-engraved stethoscope. It was the stethoscope Preston had promised to buy me for my birthday, but he had later backed out, calling it an unnecessary expense. I had worked three months of extra night shifts to buy it myself. Seeing me, Brooke shrank back, though her voice held a smug undertone. “Oh, Summer. You’re back?” “Preston said that since you won’t be practicing medicine anymore, he wanted me to have this as a little gift.” The last remnant of pain in my chest flared into white-hot rage. I grabbed her wrist, twisting it until she released her grip, and snatched my stethoscope back. I pulled out a disinfectant wipe and began scrubbing the metal, over and over, right in front of her. “Keep your hands off my things,” I said, my voice ice-cold. “I don’t like getting dirt on my equipment.” “Ow!” Brooke let out a sharp shriek. Hearing her cry, Preston stormed into the office, violently shoving me aside. The small of my back slammed hard against the sharp corner of the desk, sending a jolt of agony through my spine. Without even looking at me, he wrapped his arms around Brooke and glared at me. “Summer! Have you lost your mind? You’re a suspended nobody! How dare you come back here and cause trouble?” “A nobody?” I forced myself to stand straight, a cold laugh escaping my lips. I pulled my officially stamped resignation letter from my bag and slapped it hard against his chest. “Open your eyes and look closely, Preston. I quit!” Preston’s face went pale. “Summer, don’t forget that your residency completion certificate is still in my hands! Without my signature, your entire residency is a waste of paper!” He threw my resignation letter onto the floor. “You think you can threaten me with this? You’re being pathetic.” Just then, a chaotic scream echoed from the hallway. A man holding a long kitchen knife charged into the office, his eyes bloodshot and wild. He locked his gaze onto Brooke, lunging forward to grab her by the hair, delivering a brutal slap that sent her falling to the floor. “You’re the doctor who killed my mother, aren’t you?” “My mother died this morning because of your dosage error! You heartless monsters, I’m taking you down with her!” Brooke’s lip was bleeding as she screamed, “Preston, help me! Save me!” My chest tightened. This man was the son of the patient who had died from the Digoxin overdose. Suddenly, a powerful grip clamped onto my arm. Before I could react, Preston yanked me forward with brutal force, throwing me directly into the path of the lunging man. “You have the wrong person!” Preston shouted, shielding Brooke with his body as he pointed at me. “The electronic signature on the lethal order belongs to Summer Offen! She’s the one who killed your mother!” The man lunged, his blade slicing clean through the skin of my neck. Preston froze, his face turning an instant, ghostly white as my blood began to spill.

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