Author: Momo Chan

My best friend and I both ended up with unplanned pregnancies at the exact same time. She was carrying the child of an Oscar-winning actor, and I had the baby of a high-stakes New York tycoon. Since neither of them seemed particularly thrilled about the idea of fatherhood, my best friend suggested: “What if we just keep the kids and lose the dads?” I didn’t hesitate: “Deal. Wherever you go, I go.” So, we vanished. We fled the country with our baby bumps and started a dream life together abroad. Two years later, her toddler went viral on TikTok because he was a dead ringer for the famous actor. The camera panned just enough to catch me and my daughter in the background. That night, my bar was surrounded by men in black suits. Just as I reached for my phone to call 911, my hands were pinned behind my back and bound with a leather belt. The man gripped my waist, his voice a low, dangerous snarl in my ear: “Go ahead, call them. Guess how many times I can break you before the cops even pull into the lot?” 1 Heartbroken and fed up with men, my best friend, Mia, dragged me to a high-end club to blow off some steam. She was just about to reach out and touch the abs of a gorgeous male model when Ethan Sterling, the Oscar-winning heartthrob, appeared at the entrance. Ethan, hidden under a baseball cap, stormed over and pointed at the model, who admittedly shared his brooding good looks. “Who is this, Mia? Am I that easy to replace?” Mia flicked a glance at him and stood up with a cold smirk. “Why not? You treated me like a stand-in for your ex-girlfriend, Sophie, for a year. Why can’t I find a better version of you?” “Besides,” she added, “your family’s ‘precious’ heirloom watch is currently sitting on someone else’s wrist.” Ethan went silent, his face pale. “I told you,” he stammered, “I didn’t give her that watch.” Mia: “Great. Then go get it back.” Silence stretched between them like a freezing river, making the thumping club music feel even more jarring. Ethan hesitated for a long time before sighing. “I’m sorry. I can’t.” Even though she expected that answer, Mia’s face crumpled for a split second. She grabbed her bag, signaled for me to call her, and stormed out in her stilettos. Ethan nodded to me and chased after her. Knowing how easily Ethan usually sweet-talked her back, I shouted after them: “Mia! Don’t go soft! This is a dealbreaker! Dump him for real this time!” My throat was dry from yelling. Suddenly, a long-fingered hand offered me a slice of watermelon. I looked at the hand, thinking, Wow, this model is smooth. I turned with a smile: “Hey handsome, what’s your name?” The smile froze. Standing behind me wasn’t a model, but Caleb Vance. Cold features, a sharp jawline, and eyes that looked like they were carved from ice. I stumbled back, but he caught my wrist. Caleb leaned in, a dark smirk playing on his lips: “You like ‘handsome’ guys, huh?” “Fine. Let’s go home. I’ve got plenty for you to look at.” 2 That night, Caleb Vance pinned me against the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse until dawn. The view overlooked the city skyline—prime real estate where every square inch cost a fortune. If it wasn’t for Caleb, I wouldn’t even have clearance to enter the lobby. But I wasn’t his girlfriend. I was his “pet.” His high-end distraction. In my first year as a struggling actress, I met a director who tried to force himself on me. Caleb appeared and ended the situation with a single sentence. He was a titan of industry; I was a nobody. He never made a grand romantic gesture, but he protected me and provided for me. With a face that put Hollywood stars to shame, it was hard not to fall for him. But I knew my place. A “pet” is meant to be replaced. I knew this would never last. “Distracted again?” As if punishing my lack of focus, Caleb’s grip tightened. “What are you thinking about? Your ‘handsome’ models?” I let out a sharp gasp, my nails digging into his arm as I shook my head, biting my lip. My response clearly didn’t satisfy him. He flipped me around. “Even if you weren’t, you’re going to feel this.” Much later, as the storm subsided, Caleb carried me to the bath and held me in his arms. “I heard your sister, Seraphina, is back in the country?” I asked softly. “Mhm.” Caleb was close with his sister; she was the real power behind the Vance family’s domestic affairs. More importantly, she had brought someone back with her—the woman Caleb was supposed to marry in a high-society merger. “Can I meet her?” I tested. Caleb’s eyes snapped open. He studied me with a cold, searching gaze before looking away. “There’s no need.” Of course. A secret mistress doesn’t meet the family. I hid my disappointment and forced a smile. “Okay.” That night, Mia never called. It wasn’t until noon the next day that I got a text. 【Don’t worry. We’re done for good.】 3 A month later, both Mia and I realized our periods were late. We went to the clinic together. When the ultrasound results came back with “PREGNANCY CONFIRMED” in bold letters, we both stared in dead silence. Mia snatched my results and hissed, “We agreed to get the career boost and then bail! How did you let this happen?” “We were careful!” I argued. Then, thinking of that night by the window, I lowered my voice. “But… things got intense. Maybe it failed.” Mia rolled her eyes. I snatched her results back. “You’re one to talk! You don’t even have a guy right now! Who’s the father?” Mia blinked, looking guilty. She muttered under her breath, “Ethan’s.” “Who?” I asked, doing my best ‘confused face.’ She took a breath and yelled into my ear: “MY EX! ETHAN! STERLING!” My ears were ringing. “I heard you! You don’t have to scream!” Mia was already broken up, and Ethan had his “first love,” Sophie, looming in the background. And I was Caleb’s secret plaything while his fiancée was moving into town. Neither of these powerful men would want these children. Mia grabbed my hand. “What if… we just keep the kids and lose the dads?” I thought about it. Caleb had been generous over the years. With my savings and acting checks, I could afford a house in Australia. “A villa. Two moms. Two kids. A dog and a cat.” It sounded like the perfect retirement plan. 4 We moved fast. Mia was already living separately from Ethan, so she was easy to spirit away. I was the problem. I spent weeks trying to find the right moment to end things with Caleb. Then, one night, he came home wasted. When I opened the door, my heart stopped. Caleb was leaning heavily on a beautiful woman. I recognized her from the tabloids—Caleb’s intended fiancée, Isabella Howe. “Hi, you must be Skylar? Caleb’s a bit drunk, I brought him home.” She looked at me with a kind, composed smile. Unlike the “jealous fiancée” trope I expected, she seemed to know exactly who I was. I forced a smile and helped her get him onto the sofa. Isabella didn’t leave. She looked around the penthouse and smiled. “Could I have a glass of water?” I walked to the kitchen island in silence. Her casual voice drifted from the living room. “I heard you’ve been taking care of Caleb while I was abroad. Thank you.” “I’ve seen your work. It’s hard for a woman to make it in Hollywood without a legacy. Seraphina and I actually admire you.” “She mentioned she wanted to meet you at the family gala next month. Did Caleb tell you?” The glass in my hand nearly slipped. I turned to meet Isabella’s eyes. There was no mockery in them. No arrogance. Just the effortless confidence of a woman who actually belonged in Caleb’s world. A confidence I could never have. The weight in my chest finally settled. I knew it was time. That night, while Caleb was passed out, I packed. I left all the jewelry and luxury gifts behind. I only took a braided cord bracelet Caleb and I had bought from a street vendor once—a cheap thing for “good luck.” I thought about saying goodbye to his face, but maybe silence was better. On the gray silk sheets, Caleb’s face was as breathtaking as the day I met him. He always thought he pursued me, but he never knew I fell for him at first sight. I felt a wave of bitterness. I sent one last text: 【I’m gone. Don’t come looking for me. Goodbye.】 I blocked his number and walked out. 5 Fast forward three years. We were living in a coastal town in Australia. We both had healthy toddlers. Mia’s son, Leo, and my daughter, Penny. When the kids turned three, Mia started a “Mommy Blogger” account, though she never showed her own face. I opened a small, trendy bar by the beach. Life was perfect. We had money, peace, and I had plenty of handsome surfers to look at. Then, a comment appeared on one of Mia’s videos. 【Is it just me, or does ‘Leo’ look exactly like Ethan Sterling?】 Ethan had posted childhood photos online years ago. Within hours, the internet had side-by-side comparisons. It wasn’t just a resemblance. It was a clone. “Leo” blew up overnight. People started tagging Ethan everywhere. Someone asked Mia: 【Who’s the dad?】 Mia snarked back: 【No dad. Parthenogenesis.】 When people started accusing her of being a “homewrecker” with a “secret love child,” she fired back: 【If you knew who the father was, you’d realize I’m the one who got unlucky.】 Seconds later, an account verified as Ethan Sterling replied. 【Are you sure about that, Mia?】 Mia panicked, deleted everything, and set her account to private. That night, she came to my bar, terrified Ethan would find her and sue for custody. I told her to breathe. “The internet is huge. Even if he sees the video, he can’t find us in a country this big.” To distract her, I promised to take her and the kids on a trip the next day. 6 We were at a famous landmark when a “Man on the Street” interviewer stopped us. Because of the viral drama, we declined and hurried away, but we couldn’t stop them from posting the footage. The video showed Leo clearly, and it caught me and Penny too. The internet exploded. 【Holy crap, in high-def, that kid is definitely Ethan’s.】 【Is that an actress in the background? She looks like Skylar Stone, the girl who vanished three years ago!】 Seeing the walls closing in, I talked to Mia. “Let’s move again. The bar isn’t doing great anyway. I’m ready to close it.” Mia nodded. “I’m with you. Wherever you go, I go.” Mia deleted her accounts. I posted a “Bar for Sale” ad. That same day, a buyer contacted me and asked to meet that night. I waited until closing time, but the buyer never showed. A weird sixth sense kicked in. Suddenly, the front door was kicked open. A dozen bodyguards in black suits flooded the bar. “Who are you looking for?” I demanded, my heart racing. No one answered. I bolted for the back exit. I ran out the door and slammed right into a solid chest. The scent of cedarwood hit me—a scent I knew by heart. I stumbled back and tried to dial 911. My wrist was snatched, and the phone hit the ground, its screen glowing in the dark. My hands were bound behind my back with a belt. He pulled me into his chest. A familiar, deep voice whispered in my ear: “Sky… have you been well?” The greeting was normal, but the tone was as cold as a grave. “Caleb, we broke up,” I gasped. “This is Australia. You can’t do this.” “Break up?” He let out a dark laugh. “Did I agree to that?” “And as for what I can do… well, you’re about to find out.” The phone on the ground was answered by a dispatcher. Caleb picked it up and held it to my ear, his voice a low, arrogant chuckle. “Go ahead. Give them the address.” “Guess how many times I can break you before the cops arrive?”

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Traveling back to my hometown for Christmas, I was scrolling through TikTok when I hit a video that made my heart stop. It was a clip of a guy from behind, sitting at a late-night diner. The caption read: “To the guy in the blue puffer jacket at the diner tonight: You are literally my dream man. TikTok, do your thing!” I stared at the screen. That was my boyfriend. I knew that jacket. I knew the way he sat. That was the day he dropped me off at the train station. We had a massive fight that morning. Since then, he had only sent me three dry texts. He has an Avoidant Attachment Style. I used to think his silence was just a test—a way to see if I’d keep chasing, keep choosing him. I thought my job was to be the “secure” one, to be his rock. I didn’t realize that this time, he’d found a “Secure Guide” of his own. I clicked on the girl’s profile. Her latest post was a photo of her beaming, wearing that same blue puffer jacket. Beside her was a man’s arm, solid and familiar, draped around her shoulders. Caption: “Update: The jacket fits. He’s even hotter than I thought.” 1 Caleb Reed warned me before we started dating. He told me he had an avoidant attachment style. He told me that loving him would eventually hurt. That was three years ago. We met at his veterinary clinic. I had rushed in with a stray kitten I’d found on the side of the road, clinging to life after being hit by a car. Caleb was about to clock out, but he took the kitten without a word. “How did it happen?” he asked, his voice low and clinical. “A car hit it,” I said, barely holding back tears. “But it was still moving when I found it. Please.” Caleb glanced at me. “You’re this upset over a stray?” At the time, I thought he was cold. But he performed the surgery, stayed late, and at midnight, he walked out and told me, “It’s going to live.” I burst into tears of relief. Caleb reached into his pocket, pulled out a fresh pack of tissues, and handed them to me. “Stop crying.” He took off his surgical mask then. He had a sharp, stern face, but his eyes… his eyes were soft, almost vulnerable. I fell for him in that exact second. I adopted the kitten and named it Dawn. Every “check-up” or “vaccine” became an excuse to talk to him. By the time winter rolled around, we were official. Caleb opened up to me for the first time on a snowy night. He told me he’d been a “stray” himself. His parents’ divorce was messy; he was the one left behind. He’d tried to run away to find his mother, but he got into a car accident. He said he’d wished he died then. It would have been better than hearing his parents argue about who had to take him. As he spoke, his eyes turned red. I reached for his hand, and he gripped it tight. “I’m avoidant, Chloe,” he whispered, his eyes searching mine for a reason to run. “People hate people like me. I’ll push you away. Are you sure?” I didn’t hesitate. I nodded. “I love you, Caleb. I don’t care what your ‘style’ is.” He kissed me then—a desperate, hungry kiss. For three years, I studied psychology. I read the books. I learned how to give him space when he retreated. I convinced myself that if I was just patient enough, I could heal him. But staring at that TikTok, I realized I’d overestimated myself. I looked at our empty chat log. I felt a bone-deep exhaustion. I typed: “Caleb, I think we should break up.” No reply. 2 They say avoidants will repeatedly push away the people they love most. Three days ago, we fought at the airport. Caleb wanted me to spend Christmas with his parents. I couldn’t. My grandfather was in the ICU, and the doctors said it was a matter of days. I showed Caleb the photos—my grandfather, skin and bones, hooked up to machines. Caleb is a good person at his core. He felt bad for my grandpa. But he didn’t feel bad for me. “What about me?” he asked. “I told my family you were coming. Everyone’s expecting you.” “Chloe, you just don’t want to commit. You’re looking for an excuse.” It was the old routine. He’d take a legitimate conflict and twist it until it was my fault. He’d say I didn’t love him enough. He didn’t want to solve the problem; he wanted to avoid the reality of my pain. If I didn’t back down, he’d end it with a cold “Fine, we’re done.” But I couldn’t let my grandfather spend his last Christmas without me. “Babe,” I pleaded, “I’ll visit them right after New Year’s, okay?” Caleb snapped. He shoved my shoulder—not hard, but enough to create distance. “Forget it. I don’t need this.” “Go home to your family. I’ll go to mine. Let’s just forget the marriage talk for now.” He grabbed his suitcase and walked away. He didn’t look back once, even when I yelled that I loved him. On the train home, I sent a dozen texts explaining, apologizing, even asking my parents to help me talk to him. But as the messages sat on “Delivered,” I started to think. What did I actually do wrong? The only mistake I made was thinking I was irreplaceable. Without me there, Caleb wasn’t mourning. He was busy letting a stranger wear his jacket. After I sent the breakup text, he finally posted a Status: “Nobody ever stays. Nobody ever chooses me.” I gripped my phone, my heart skipping a beat. Usually, I’d be calling him, crying, begging him to see that I was choosing him. But this time, I stayed silent. 3 I wasn’t sure if Caleb had actually hooked up with that girl yet. Under her video, people were begging for an update. “Did you get the guy??” “The 2026 plot twist we needed!” The girl replied, acting shy: “We haven’t made it official yet. He’s a bit of a mystery, very cold-moody lol. But we’re going to see the New Year’s fireworks together. Hehe.” It felt like a knife to the chest. Caleb doesn’t talk to strangers. In three years, he never played games with other women. Even when we fought, he was loyal to a fault. That was why I stayed. I thought his “avoidance” was a cage he was trapped in. I realized then that our relationship was actually over. What I couldn’t understand was why he couldn’t just talk to me. Why couldn’t he just say goodbye? My grandfather’s condition worsened. The only silver lining was that when I got to the hospital, he was still conscious. If I had gone to Caleb’s parents’ house, I would have missed our last conversation. I turned off my phone. I was done blaming myself. Suddenly, a notification popped up. A follow request on Instagram. The bio said: @EverlyQ_. The message in the request was anything but friendly: “Are you Caleb’s girlfriend?” I stared at the screen. Everly. The girl from the TikTok. I hit accept. “Who’s asking?” The reply was instant. “I’m Everly. I’m the girl who’s going to be with Caleb.” 4 I checked her profile. She was young, probably a college junior. She lived in the same town Caleb was from. She was also incredibly bold. “Look, Chloe. I’m not trying to be mean. Caleb told me you broke up with him.” Ah. So he did read the message. “And?” I typed. A long paragraph appeared a few minutes later. “You know Caleb. You know how much he’s hurting. He’s avoidant—he can’t handle being abandoned. I met him and I realized he has a girlfriend, and I was going to back off. But then he called me last night, crying. I realized you two are a toxic match.” “I like him. I know how to handle someone like him. I’m a ‘Secure Guide.’ I won’t give up on him or threaten to leave every time things get hard. I’m going to pursue him seriously. Just don’t go posting drama online once we’re official.” I sat there, stunned. I couldn’t even process the logic. I was the one who stayed for three years. I was the one whose grandfather was dying. But to her, I was the villain for finally reaching my breaking point. I typed back one word: “OK.” Everly: “Just ‘OK’? I actually feel bad for Caleb. He wasted three years on someone so cold.” 5 Was I cold? For three years, I tried to melt an iceberg. Caleb wasn’t a child. He could have understood why I chose my dying grandfather over a Christmas dinner. Any normal person would. But love isn’t enough to cure a personality disorder. And Caleb didn’t love me enough to try. It was the second day after the breakup. He still hadn’t replied. However, he had deleted the “Nobody ever stays” status. Then, he started deleting photos of us. One by one. It seemed petty, but I knew his language. This was his way of getting my attention. He wanted me to see the “erasure” of our memories and panic. He wanted me to come crawling back to save the relationship. But I didn’t have the energy to play the game anymore. My dad called. Grandpa was being moved home. I knew what that meant. Hospice. I burst into tears and ran for my car to get to the hospital. On the way, my phone rang. Caleb. I swiped answer, my heart in my throat. “Chloe,” Caleb’s voice was heavy, sounding both angry and desperate. “Are you really doing this? Are you really leaving me?” “Caleb, I can’t talk right now—” Then I heard it. A rustling sound through the phone. A soft, feminine moan. “Caleb… what are you doing?” Silence. Then a girl’s voice, muffled: “Caleb, come back to bed…” My world shattered. 6 I pulled over to the side of the road, gasping for air. The betrayal felt like a physical blow to the stomach. Three years of patience, three years of “healing,” and he was in bed with another girl within 72 hours of a fight. While my grandfather was dying. I sat there for twenty minutes, staring at the steering wheel, before I forced myself to start the car. I had to see Grandpa. The drive to the hospital, which should have taken fifteen minutes, took me forty. My eyes were so blurred with tears I could barely see the road. I stumbled into the hospital, looking for the room. I was a wreck. I accidentally slammed into a man in the hallway. “Whoa, easy there.” Strong hands caught my shoulders. I looked up through a fog of tears at a man in a white coat. He looked steady. Reliable. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “I’m looking for Thomas Miller. He’s my grandpa… he doesn’t have long…” I was babbling. Doctors usually don’t know every patient by name. But this man didn’t pull away. “Take a breath. Follow me.” He led me through the maze of the hospital to the ICU. I saw my parents outside the room, their faces red from crying. I rushed to the bed. My grandfather opened his eyes one last time. “My… sweet girl…” The weight of the last three days finally broke me. I knelt by the bed, gripping his hand as the warmth left it. “I’m sorry, Grandpa. I’m so sorry.”

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It’s been a year since we broke up. My ex-boyfriend suddenly rose from the dead and sent me a text. 【Do you remember that lipstick you used to wear when we were together? What was the shade? I’m seeing someone new and want to buy it for her.】 I thought about it for two seconds and texted back: 【Oh, I forgot. Why don’t you ask that guy on your basketball team? He’s the one who bought it for me.】 My phone stayed silent for exactly two seconds before it started vibrating like a bomb. 【WTF!】 【Who? Which teammate?】 【Who the hell was it?】 【Answer me, please.】 I sent him a cheeky emoji with its tongue sticking out. 【None of your business.】 1 Friday night. I was huddled on my sofa, mid-slurp into a bowl of spicy ramen, when my ex-boyfriend’s name popped up on my screen. I didn’t just jump; I practically did a 360-degree backflip of joy. It wasn’t that I missed him—it was that “I won” feeling. When we broke up, I gave Caleb Vance the full treatment: deleted, blocked, and erased from every social platform. I only kept his number unblocked, waiting for the day he’d be the first to cave. “Ha!” I screenshotted it immediately and called my best friend. “Keisha, Caleb just texted me.” “No way. What’s he want?” “Probably realized I’m the best thing that ever happened to him. Probably crying into his pillow.” I opened the message, ready to reject a long apology. Instead, the smile froze on my face. 【Do you remember that lipstick you used to wear? It looked great. What was the shade? I’m seeing someone new and want to buy it for her.】 Are you kidding me? He’s already chasing a new crush? Was I the only clown here? Caleb really is a jerk to the bitter end. I thought for two seconds and hit him with the teammate line. Then, I turned my phone off. By the time I’d finished my dishes and came back, I had 99+ notifications. 【?】 【Chloe, tell me right now!】 【Who?!】 【Which one?】 【TELL ME.】 【Are you seriously ignoring me?】 Caleb’s texts were flying out like they were free. I pulled out my secret weapon: the cheeky emoji and the text: 【None of your business】. The phone went quiet. For a second. Then: 【Chloe!】 【Stay right there. I’m coming to your place.】 Someone’s triggered. 2 Caleb and I were a college romance that died at graduation. He’s a walking contradiction. Before we dated, he was the “Ice King”—cold, untouchable, the campus god. After we started dating, he turned into a total sarcastic brat. If I took my jacket off because I was hot, he’d ask if I was preparing for takeoff. If I crouched to tie my shoe, he’d call it “Transformers, roll out!” A high-altitude flower with a gutter mouth. I used to complain to Keisha, and she’d say it was “the gap-moe charm.” To be fair, Caleb had his perks. He did all my elective homework. He tutored me through Calculus until I actually got an A. He even mapped out the framework for my senior thesis. The price of being “carried” academically was that Caleb moved to Wall Street for a high-powered internship, while I became a junior editor at a tiny boutique agency. That’s when it fell apart. He was drowning in spreadsheets at an investment bank. We went from talking every hour to three sentences a week. I understood he was building a future, but I was lonely. The breaking point? One night, he finally had time for me. After a rare moment of intimacy, I wanted to cuddle and talk. Caleb just rolled out of bed, grabbed his laptop, and started working on a pitch deck. A total “hit it and quit it” move, even if we were dating. I snapped. I ripped off the necklace he’d bought me with his first paycheck and threw it at his face. “Caleb, we’re done.” The look on his face then was terrifying—like a storm about to break. I shuddered at the memory. “Bad vibes, bad vibes,” I muttered, closing my eyes to sleep. “Caleb has bad luck, Caleb has bad luck…” Just as I was drifting off, my phone rang. “What? Caleb is in the ER?!” Did my bad-luck chant actually work? Do I need to buy a lottery ticket? “Ms. Smith, you need to come down. It’s… complicated.” 3 I rushed to the hospital. I finally found the VIP wing and pushed open the door. Caleb looked up. His white shirt was stained with blood, his chest was half-bare, and his arm was in a heavy cast. Thankfully, his face was still perfect. The doctor handed me a chart. “Car accident. Road rash on his back, a fractured radius, and a significant concussion.” “Wait, a concussion? Did he hit his head hard?” I walked up to Caleb. “Do you know who you are?” Caleb stared into my eyes for a long beat, then slowly shook his head. Great. If I saw this plot in a Netflix drama, I’d turn it off for being too cliché. “Ms. Smith,” the doctor said, “you’ll need to settle the intake fees at the window.” “Wait, I’m not—we aren’t together.” The doctor looked at Caleb. “Didn’t you say she was your girlfriend?” I glared at him. What game was he playing? Caleb silently pulled out his phone and showed the doctor our lock screen—it was a photo of us making out from two years ago. Then he pulled up an old campus blog post about the “Chemistry Department’s Power Couple.” I couldn’t believe he still had that stuff. The doctor waved it off as a “lovers’ quarrel” and left the room. We were alone. I dropped the act. “I don’t have the money for this, Caleb. I’m leaving.” Caleb lunged for my hand, hissing in pain as he strained the wounds on his back. That low, gutteral groan… it was way too easy to misinterpret in a quiet hospital room. He looked at me with those puppy-dog eyes. “Babe, did we fight? My gallery is full of us, but I can only text you? Why am I blocked?” I fought the urge to give in to his “battle-worn” handsomeness. “Cut the crap. You’re faking. We’ve been over for a year.” Caleb’s breath hitched. “Babe, I’m not faking. Memories can go, but the feeling doesn’t. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. Please don’t leave me.” I was losing the battle. Even the toughest woman can’t handle Caleb Vance when he’s being this pathetic. “I’ll add you back on WhatsApp if you give me the cash for the bill,” I bargained. “I’ll send you three thousand,” Caleb said calmly. “Pay the bill, keep the change.” I found a “Sugar Daddy” in the ER. I pulled out my phone immediately. “Fine. Deal.” Caleb smiled—a satisfied, “gotcha” smile—and scanned my QR code. I texted Keisha: 【He’s faking amnesia. I’m taking the money and running tomorrow.】 Keisha: 【Spoken like a true queen. Drain him dry, girl!】 4 It was nearly dawn. I decided to crash in the VIP suite’s lounge chair so he couldn’t claim I robbed him. When I woke up, Caleb was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at me like a lost kid. “Chloe… about that teammate.” Here we go. “Which one was it? Why did he buy you lipstick? What shade?” I sat up, doing that “fake-busy” thing people do when they’re caught. I couldn’t tell him the truth yet—that his teammate did give it to me, but only because Caleb had been too shy to give it to me himself and used the guy as a courier. “I don’t have to tell you,” I snapped. “I didn’t ask you about your ‘crush’ from the text.” Caleb’s expression hardened. “I don’t remember much right now, but I know for a fact I don’t have a ‘crush’ on anyone but you.” Liar. I ignored him and scrolled through TikTok. The algorithm knew exactly what I wanted: hot guys in gray sweatpants. I was literally drooling over a video when I noticed Caleb’s shadow looming over me. “Phone’s dying,” I said, turning around. “Got a charger?” Caleb looked at me, his voice muffled. “In my bag.” Who brings a charger to an emergency room car crash? I went into his bag—a high-end leather briefcase. Hanging off the zipper was a tiny, knitted peanut keychain I’d made him for his birthday. He’d called it “low-effort” at the time, but he was still using it. My heart twinged. I grabbed the cable and went to sleep. The next morning, I woke up to a heart-stopping sight. Caleb was shirtless, crouching by my chair. Eight-pack abs, high-definition, no filter. “Babe, you’re awake?” He only used that word in bed before. I pushed him away. “I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet, get back!” 5 I didn’t realize how hard I pushed. Caleb is 6’2″, but since he was off-balance, he went straight to the floor. He groaned, clutching his injured arm. I panicked and helped him up, my hand “accidentally” lingering on his abs. Smooth, warm, rock-solid. Better than college. Caleb smirked, catching my hand and pressing it harder against his stomach. He leaned into my ear. “Like it? I worked out just for you.” My heart did a Olympic sprint. I pushed him again. “You’re shameless!” Caleb just laughed. He was a completely different person. The “concussion” had turned the Ice King into a Golden Retriever. The nurse walked in, clearing her throat. “Alright, break it up. Time to change the dressings.” I bolted to the bathroom to wash my face. When I came out, the nurse was handing me a tube of ointment. “Once a day. And tell him: No strenuous activity.” Caleb winked at me. I rolled my eyes. “Caleb, I have to go to work,” I said, packing my things. “It’s Saturday.” “…” “I’m wounded. I can’t even feed myself. You’re going to leave me here?” “The doctor said you’re being discharged in two days. You aren’t paralyzed.” “Chloe, stay. I’ll pay you a hundred dollars an hour to be my ‘medical companion’.” I paused. “You’re that rich now? What’s your salary?” Caleb shrugged. “I don’t remember the exact number, but my bank statements suggest I’m clearing well over seven figures.” My jaw dropped. I make forty-five thousand a year. “Well… purely for humanitarian reasons, I suppose I can stay.” 6 I spent the next few days in a daze. Caleb was being… nice. He didn’t make fun of my “Transformers” movements. He praised my “cooking” (which was just takeout I plated to look fancy). I was almost ready to give him a chance. Until I saw the truth. I arrived at the hospital thirty minutes early with “lunch.” Through the glass of the door, I saw Caleb. He was hurriedly throwing off his suit jacket and putting on his hospital gown. Standing next to him was an elegant, mature woman with French curls and a tailored power suit. She was fixing his tie. “Slow down, Caleb. She’s not here yet.” Her touch was familiar. The vibe was intimate. Caleb didn’t pull away; he let her touch him like it was a daily habit. I felt like a total fool. Played twice by the same man. I turned around and walked out. I’m not a dog; I’m not coming back when you whistle. 7 I blocked him on everything. Again. I went to Keisha’s place with a case of beer and the most expensive sushi we could order. “He’s dead to me,” I sobbed. “Good,” Keisha said. “Because I have someone new for you. My high school friend. He’s 6’3″, a corporate lawyer, and looks like a Disney prince.” I needed a rebound to save my soul. “Fine. Set it up. Tomorrow.” The next day, I wore my best white sundress. My date, Ethan Hunt, was actually better looking than his photos. He was a total gentleman. He pulled out my chair. He talked about philosophy, travel, and the future. Just as I was starting to forget Caleb Vance existed, Ethan leaned in. “You know, you actually remind me a lot of my ex-girlfriend.” I almost choked on my drink. “Excuse me?” “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just… she was my first love. We met abroad. We were going to get married under the Eiffel Tower.” “Then what happened?” “My parents. They’re old-fashioned. They didn’t think she was ‘high-class’ enough. I couldn’t stand up to them. I regret it every day.” I felt a wave of pity. We were both victims of circumstance. Suddenly, a hand clamped onto my wrist. I was yanked out of my chair and into a solid chest. The scent of cedarwood and expensive cologne hit me. Caleb. He was in a sharp navy suit, his left arm still in a cast, but his right arm was wrapped around my waist like a vice. “Having fun?” he whispered into my ear, his voice tight with suppressed rage. Ethan stood up. “Who are you?” Caleb gave him a terrifyingly polite smile. “I’m her boyfriend. Who are you?” Ethan looked at me. “Chloe?” “He’s my ex!” I yelled, trying to wiggle free. Caleb let out a cold laugh. He dragged me toward the exit. I pounded on his back. “Caleb, stop! This is kidnapping! I’ll call the cops!” He ignored my screaming, threw me into his car, and locked the doors. “Chloe,” he warned, his eyes dark. “If you try to get out, I’m posting your drunk singing videos from college on LinkedIn.”

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The morning I signed the divorce papers with Caleb Vance, he was already on a private jet back to New York City by the afternoon, taking our daughter with him. Staring at the legal document in my hand, I realized that a piece of paper was all that remained of our five-year marriage. I sold our house in the suburbs, quit my job, and erased the last traces of myself from the life we built. On the train back to my hometown in the countryside, I got a call from my daughter. She asked why I wasn’t coming with them to the city. I smiled, my voice calm. “Didn’t you cry and scream that you didn’t want me as your mother anymore?” “Don’t worry. You’ll have a new mommy soon.” 1 When I arrived at my grandmother’s old farmhouse, she was waiting by the door, leaning on her cane. Standing next to her was a little girl with big, curious eyes, staring at me. In the past, seeing a child would have made me smile. I would have rushed to hug her. But now, I didn’t like children anymore. Grandma told me she was the neighbor’s granddaughter. Her parents had died in an accident, leaving her alone, so she was sent here to live with her elderly grandmother. I nodded, feeling a flicker of sympathy, but nothing more. The little girl looked up at me. “Ma’am, you’re really pretty.” I forced a tight smile, ignored her, and helped my grandmother inside. Later, the neighbor came to collect the girl. In the middle of the night, the wail of an ambulance cut through the silence. I opened the door to see the neighbor being loaded onto a stretcher. The little girl stood behind the EMTs, her face streaked with tears and snot. Later, the police took the girl away. Two days later, Grandma told me with a heavy sigh that the neighbor had died of a heart attack. I felt a pang of pity for the girl. “Does she have any other family?” I asked. Grandma thought for a moment. “I think there’s a distant cousin in the next town over.” I felt relieved. At least she had somewhere to go. The next morning, I opened the front door and froze. The little girl was sitting on the neighbor’s porch, shivering in the cold. It was obvious. The relatives didn’t want her. They had dumped her back here. Grandma looked at me, her eyes pleading. She wanted to take the girl in. I didn’t say a word. I took the girl’s hand and walked to the local police station to sort out the paperwork. In the end, I adopted her. My family registry gained a new name: Lily. 2 After a month of settling in, I decided to stay in my hometown for good. Lily used to be a cheerful kid, but losing everyone she loved had changed her. She went from a laughing child to a quiet, serious little adult. Though she was young, she acted years older. She watched my moods carefully, helped with chores without being asked, and followed Grandma into the garden to carry the vegetable basket. Every time I saw how sensible Lily was, I thought of my own daughter back in New York. Sophie Vance, the pampered princess of the Vance empire. If Sophie wanted steak, someone bought her a ranch. If she wanted to swim, someone bought her a hotel. Lily often woke up crying in the middle of the night, asking if I was going to throw her away. I would hold her tight, stroking her hair. “No. I want to live a happy life, and I don’t want to make the people around me sad.” “So, Lily, I’m going to make sure you’re always happy. Do you trust me?” She would stay silent for a long time, then hug me back with all her strength. “Mommy, I’ll stay with you forever. I want you to be happy too.” Time slipped by. Lily grew up. When she was seven, she started elementary school. Every day, rain or shine, I walked her to and from school. She was always quiet on the walk home. Sometimes, seeing other girls throwing tantrums at their parents, Lily would just glance at them and tell me that people should be calm. I laughed. She was growing up too fast. One afternoon, as we walked into the front yard, a little girl in a designer tutu came sprinting toward me. “Mommy!” I stepped back instinctively. Lily stepped forward and caught the girl before she could crash into me. “You have the wrong person,” I said, looking up at the man sitting opposite my grandmother on the porch. “Sir, I think you’re lost.” Sophie burst into loud, wailing sobs. Grandma looked at me helplessly and ushered Lily inside. When I moved back, I told Grandma I was cutting all ties with the Vances. She knew my history and never asked questions. After Lily arrived, Grandma stopped thinking about the great-granddaughter with the bad temper. Caleb Vance walked up to me, staring silently. I stepped aside, leaving the gate open—a clear signal for them to leave. Sophie saw Lily go inside and wiped her tears, clinging to my leg. “Mommy, I missed you so much. Come back to New York with us, please?” I smiled, patted her head, and gently peeled her hands off my leg. I walked toward the gate. “Mr. Vance,” I said, turning to him. “Let’s talk outside.” 3 Looking at Caleb’s familiar face, memories of our past flooded back. It felt like a story from a book—interesting, but irrelevant. My grandfather and Caleb’s grandfather had been war buddies. Legend had it that my grandfather was discharged early because of an injury he sustained saving Caleb’s grandfather. Because of that debt, our families were close until my grandfather passed. The year I graduated college, rumor had it Caleb got into a brawl with a powerful heir in the city. To let the heat die down, the Vances sent him to the countryside to stay with us. I was busy job hunting, exhausted from interviews, when Grandpa called and told me to pick someone up from the airport. I rushed there without even freshening up. When I arrived, Caleb had been waiting for a long time, looking impatient. He sat on his suitcase, scrolling through his phone, frowning one minute and smirking the next. Seeing him washed away my exhaustion. A boy as bright and intense as the summer sun is easy to fall for. My crush was a chase I knew I’d never win. The gap between our families was an ocean. After two weeks with my grandparents, Caleb got bored. Grandpa called me again, asking if I could help Caleb find an apartment in the city nearby. I knew he couldn’t handle the quiet village life. But I was so busy I forgot—until I came home one night to find Caleb sitting on my doorstep with his luggage. He didn’t complain. Once he found out I lived alone, he dragged his suitcase in and claimed my spare room. Living with him, I learned about his childhood sweetheart, Elena. The fight in the city had been over her. Someone had disrespected her, and Caleb had thrown punches. Their love was the kind people envied. As a bystander, I heard all about their romance, their fights, their cold wars. For three months, my apartment was filled with traces of him. One night, after another fight with Elena, I thought he’d gone to bed early. I opened the door to find him passed out on the floor. I helped him to the sofa and went to get water. In his drunken haze, he pulled me into his arms, demanding to know why I brought him home. In the chaos, mistakes were made. I don’t even know how it started. 4 I still remember the look in his eyes when he woke up. Cold. Even cruel. As if I had wronged him. I fled under his icy gaze, ignoring the ache in my body. That night, he had whispered someone else’s name in my ear. It was so tender, so full of longing. In the years we were married, he never said my name like that. It really was true: The falling flower loves the stream, but the stream cares nothing for the flower. 5 There was a large oak tree outside Grandma’s house. In summer, people gathered under its shade. Now, in deep autumn, there were only fallen leaves and a chill in the air. Caleb and I stood under the bare branches. “What do you want?” he asked, staring straight at me. “Did you forget the divorce agreement?” “What do you mean?” “Our marriage ended four years ago. I followed the agreement. I never contacted you. And judging by Sophie’s reaction, someone has been talking about me to her. When we left, she was three. She wouldn’t recognize me instantly.” Caleb took a step forward, glancing at Sophie playing nearby. “Grandpa reminds her. He shows her your photo.” “If that’s the case, why are you here?” Caleb smiled faintly. “We went to the apartment in the city. We found out you sold it. So I brought her here to find you.” I closed my eyes. “You know you aren’t welcome here. Just take her and go.” I was a strict mother. Sophie had been spoiled rotten by the Vances since I left. If we spent time together, she would only hate me more. Better for her to leave now. Caleb didn’t speak. He took Sophie and left. I thought that was the end of it. Two days later, Lily told me Sophie had transferred to her school. They were in the same class. I sat on my porch all afternoon, thinking. It didn’t matter. I had to live my life. I couldn’t let them disrupt my peace. 6 My hometown wasn’t wealthy, but for city people, it was a rustic paradise. I had given up my career for marriage. Now, I wanted to build a future with my own hands. I opened a bed and breakfast, a restaurant, and a small bistro bar. As tourism picked up, my business thrived. Influencers came to take photos. Since Caleb didn’t tell me about the school transfer, I pretended not to know. One day, Sophie was dropped off at my restaurant by a driver. The driver told me Caleb was on a business trip for a few days. Sophie didn’t throw a tantrum this time. She sat quietly on a stool, doing her homework. With my silent permission, the driver started dropping her off every day. Sophie looked like me, but her personality was all Caleb. When she was little, she wouldn’t sleep unless I held her. She wouldn’t eat or drink unless I fed her. Seeing her chubby face and hearing her call me “Mommy” used to make all the suffering worth it. But the moment she realized she didn’t need me, she changed. She learned to lie. She learned to scream at me. She told me to my face that she liked “Auntie Elena” better because Elena wore pretty clothes and let her do whatever she wanted. When Elena told her about the glittering lights of New York, Sophie screamed at me: “Mommy, why are you keeping me in this dump?! I want to go with Auntie Elena to the city!” “I hate a mommy who stays home all day! I want Auntie Elena to take me shopping!” 7 Lily was perceptive. She knew I didn’t like being around Sophie, so she was always polite but distant. Even when Grandma showed Sophie favoritism, Lily never complained. Grandma told me Lily had asked privately if Sophie’s dad had bullied me. She noticed the sadness in my eyes whenever I looked at Sophie. I didn’t know how to explain my relationship with Caleb to her. Lily knew I once dreamed of being a dancer. I gave it up. One day, Lily came to me and said she wanted to learn ballet. “Mommy, I’ll finish your dream for you.” Seven is the perfect age to start. Lily worked hard. She never complained about the pain. She often hugged me and told me she loved me. I remembered Sophie screaming, “I hate Mommy! I love Auntie Elena!” A month later, Caleb returned from his trip. He continued to drop Sophie off. Neighbors who recognized him asked Grandma if he was trying to get back together with me. I laughed and denied it. “The past is the past. A broken mirror can’t be fixed.” I used to be affected by every move Caleb made. Now, I felt nothing. My shop was in a small town. There were no malls, no theme parks. I thought they’d get bored and leave in a few months. Some people just like chasing what they can’t have. I hugged Lily constantly, telling her I loved her. I tucked her in. I surprised her with gifts. Every time I did, I secretly hoped Sophie would throw a fit, tell me she hated me, and demand to leave. But she didn’t. And Caleb just watched it all in silence.

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My billionaire boyfriend, Caleb Vance, hates children. But I’m accidentally pregnant. One night, I tried to test the waters. His hand rested lazily on my waist as he joked, “What, are you pregnant?” I panicked and denied it immediately. He stroked my hair, his voice smooth and dangerous. “Good girl. We don’t need kids.” But the test was positive. Then, I overheard a conversation at a boutique: “Lydia has been with Caleb for years and still hasn’t gotten a ring. She’s dreaming if she thinks she’ll ever marry into the Vance family.” “She’s stupid. Why doesn’t she just get pregnant and force his hand?” “You don’t know Caleb Vance. He despises illegitimate children. He’s the kind of man who would make both problems disappear.” For the sake of my life and my baby, I spent the night crafting my exit strategy. I left a note: Two weeks later, I was hiding in a small coastal town in the South. I had just finished chatting with a pregnant neighbor about morning sickness when a pair of strong arms pulled me into a hard chest. The man’s voice was raspy, heavy with exhaustion. “Baby, who invented the word ‘canary’? Since when am I not your boyfriend?” 1 “This baby is so cute.” Fresh from the shower, I sat on the edge of the bed scrolling through TikTok. Caleb’s long fingers combed through my damp hair, massaging my scalp. It felt amazing. Over the hum of the Dyson dryer, he gave a noncommittal “Mhm.” I pressed on, stubborn. “Don’t you think she’s cute? Look at those cheeks!” He glanced at my phone screen but didn’t stop drying my hair. “Baby, that’s the fifth time you’ve asked me that tonight. Are you pregnant?” My heart stopped. I never talked about kids. Bringing it up five times in one night was a red flag the size of Texas. I forced a casual tone. “No way. We’re super careful. It’s just the algorithm. I liked one baby video and now my feed is full of them. They’re all adorable, don’t you think?” Click. The dryer stopped. The silence in the room was deafening. Caleb leaned down and kissed the top of my head. “Babe, you don’t have to beat around the bush. You can just ask me.” “I don’t like kids. We aren’t having them. Okay?” So that was it. I fought the urge to cover my stomach and quickly rolled under the duvet. “Goodnight.” Caleb turned off the lights. The mattress dipped as he climbed in beside me. He pulled me into his arms. His voice was gentle. “Are you mad?” “No.” “Liar.” “Really, I’m not.” He kissed my earlobe, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “Baby, I really just don’t like children. Can you just indulge me on this one thing?” But… In the moonlight filtering through the curtains, I could see my handbag hanging on the coat rack. It swayed slightly in the AC breeze. Peeking out of the side pocket was the corner of a white paper. It was the lab report I got today. Patient Status: Positive for Pregnancy. 2 I was pregnant. And I had no idea how. We used protection every single time. Every. Single. Time. I hadn’t been with anyone else. And even if I had, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to skip protection. I’ve always had irregular cycles. Two days ago, Caleb noticed. “Late again this month?” I was reading a book, lying on my stomach. “It’s chronic. It’s fine.” He gripped my ankle, his thumb rubbing the bone. “It’s been years, Lydia. You need to take better care of yourself.” “Yeah, yeah. I’ll go to the doctor this week.” I thought it would just be a routine checkup, maybe some new pills to regulate my hormones. Instead, I got referred from Endocrinology to OB-GYN. And walked out with a positive pregnancy test. I frantically Googled, scrolling through endless Reddit threads until I found the answer: Micro-tears. Condom failure without realizing it. I stood outside the clinic, clutching the paper, watching the busy New York street. Inside me was just a cluster of cells the size of a lentil. It didn’t even have a heartbeat yet. But I swear I could hear a second rhythm syncing with mine. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. It was my blood. It was my child. 3 Caleb had a crisis with his overseas division and had to fly out. Before leaving, he was in full “dad mode”: “No ice cream. Cut down on the junk food. Eat proper meals while I’m gone. Don’t go wandering around at night.” I pushed him toward the door. “I know, I know! Go make your millions.” Caleb scooped me up and carried me into the elevator. I panicked. “What are you doing?” He pinched my cheek. “Since you’re so eager to get rid of me, I decided to take you with me.” I shrieked. “No! I’m not going!” Caleb ignored me. He buckled me into the backseat of the Maybach. I tried to reason with him. “I really don’t want to go. I don’t know anything about your business. I’ll just be bored in the hotel.” Whenever we were in the car together, the driver knew to raise the privacy partition. Without witnesses, Caleb had no filter. He ran his thumb over my cheekbone. “I need you for stress relief.” I: “…” What a valid, corporate reason. In the past, I would have rolled my eyes and gone along with it. But now… I was pregnant. I whispered, “Can’t you just… handle it yourself?” “No.” My voice got smaller. “You’re rich. You can find plenty of willing volunteers in London. Or you could call…” Before I could finish, Caleb’s eyes narrowed. He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look at him. His voice was slow, a terrifyingly gentle purr. “What did you just say, Lydia? I didn’t quite catch that.” Thank god I was wearing long sleeves so he couldn’t see the goosebumps erupting on my arms. I shook my head. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.” I turned to look out the window. This sucks. My nails dug into my palm. I didn’t want to go to a foreign country. I didn’t want to sit in a hotel room waiting for him. I wanted to be in my own bed, safe. The city blurred past. Twenty-five-year-old Lydia felt like a dead leaf clinging to a branch in a winter storm. One gust of wind, and I’d be gone. Caleb broke the silence. He pulled me into his side. “I was joking. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to.” I blinked slowly. He rested his chin on my shoulder. “Your passport is at home. I just wanted you to see me off at the airport.” I realized then that if he really wanted to take me, he would have grabbed my bag. His voice was muffled against my hair. “I don’t like it when you try to push me away. And I really didn’t like what you said just now. Be good, Lydia. Behave.” 4 After a ten-minute make-out session in the VIP drop-off lane, Caleb finally let me go. He boarded his flight. I took the car back. I touched my swollen lips in the rearview mirror. My reflection looked flushed, alive. Then I touched my flat stomach. I didn’t know how to navigate this new reality with Caleb. We weren’t married. He hated kids. This baby was an accident. Logically, it should be removed. A quick procedure, and my life goes back to normal. But… I wanted it. I took a deep breath and sent Caleb a text. 【I have something to tell you when you get back.】 He would be gone for a week. That gave me seven days to prepare. If Caleb accepted the baby, we could get married. If he didn’t… I would disappear. I would never let him see me again. 5 On the third day of Caleb’s trip, my anxiety was peaking. I went shopping to distract myself. I was in a dressing room at a high-end boutique, trying on fall coats. I used to come here when I was a teenager, saving up my allowance to buy one nice thing. Later, when Caleb found out I liked the brand, he started buying out the new collections for me. But I preferred shopping for myself. As I zipped up a trench coat, I heard voices outside the curtain. They were talking about Caleb. And me. “Speaking of the Miller family, Lydia has been with Caleb for five years now. Still no ring?” “Marrying into that level of wealth? Please. Maybe back when the Miller family still had money, she had a shot. Now she’s just an orphan living off Caleb. He’s just playing with her.” My fingers froze on the zipper. “Maybe she should just get pregnant. Trap him.” Pregnant. My eyes darted to my bag in the corner. The one holding the ultrasound appointment card. “Ha! You’re funny. Caleb Vance hates illegitimate kids more than anything. Remember his dad? That whole scandal? Caleb would make her get rid of it. Or worse.” “Yeah, he’s ruthless. Lydia better be careful, or she’ll end up a headline.” I took off the coat and changed back into my clothes. When I walked out, the gossipers went silent. “Lydia? How long have you been there?” I smiled. “Longer than you.” I walked out without waiting for a reaction. 6 I sat on the swing on the terrace, staring at the fallen leaves. Caleb FaceTimed me. It was morning where he was. The sunrise behind him was fiery red. “You went out?” he asked. “How did you know?” “You’re not wearing the pajamas you slept in. Did you have fun?” “It was okay.” “Rest up. I’ll be back in four days. Can’t you tell me the news now?” “No. In person.” We talked for a bit before he had to go to a meeting. The silence of the house pressed in on me. Not married. Pregnant. Hates kids. Ruthless. Those words circled my mind like vultures. I stood up. The sun had set. I found a notepad and wrote a message. I bought a burner phone and a new SIM card online. The next day, I left my tracked iPhone on the nightstand. I took only my ID and some cash. I couldn’t wait for him to come back. I couldn’t risk it. 7 The South. Rain. The forecast said it would rain for another week. I hated gloomy weather, but I had to go to the clinic. I was six weeks along. I needed to check my progesterone levels. Stay healthy, little bean. I rubbed my belly while waiting for a cab. A pregnant woman walked by with a toddler and her husband. She noticed me staring. “New to the neighborhood?” she asked kindly. “Yes, just moved here.” “I haven’t seen you around. Where are you from?” “New York. I came here for a quiet place to… rest.” “Oh! Are you expecting? Is it your first? Let me tell you, you need to watch your iron levels…” She chatted happily until my ride arrived. “Take care!” I waved and got into the backseat. “Tail number 1234,” I muttered to the driver, checking my phone for the vitamins she recommended. Wait. The car wasn’t moving. The driver had gotten out. And there was someone else in the backseat with me. Panic spiked in my chest. Black cab? Kidnapping? I fumbled for the door handle, but a strong arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me back. The scent of bitter orange and expensive tobacco filled the small space. A man’s lips brushed the sensitive skin of my neck. “Baby, ghosting me is a very bad habit. Have I been too nice to you? Did you forget who I am?” It was him. I froze. Caleb bit my shoulder, hard enough to sting. He pulled me into his lap. “I didn’t ghost,” I stammered. “I left a note.” Caleb laughed, a low, dark sound. “Baby, have you ever seen a canary leave a resignation letter?” He leaned in, his breath hot on my ear. “Guess what happens to canaries who try to fly away?” His hand moved to my wrist, his fingers tracing my pulse. He’s going to lock me up. The golden cage in the basement. “Caleb…” my voice shook. “Hm?” “I’ll go back. I won’t run again. Please don’t…” I buried my face in his chest, listening to his heart hammering against my ear. Thump. Thump. Thump. It was racing. Normally, I knew how to calm him down. But Caleb wasn’t interested in sex as a peacemaker. He preferred genuine affection. When we first started dating, he got jealous of a guy friend. I tried to seduce him to make him forget. He got angrier and left for a week. “Baby, I don’t want you to use your body as a bargaining chip,” he had said when he returned. Now, his hand rested on my back, heavy and still. The silence stretched until I couldn’t breathe. I looked up. Caleb’s eyes were black pools of exhaustion. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “Baby,” he rasped. “You weren’t like this before.” Wasn’t I? “Lydia, I am your boyfriend. Not your sponsor. Is being with me… that exhausting?”

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Three years ago, I begged him to let me go. He stepped on my hand, looked down at me from his pedestal, and called me trash. Three years later, he knelt on the ground, crying and begging me not to leave him. I looked at him and gave him back the exact words he once gave me. 1 When the school bullies cornered me in the alley, I sent one last desperate message to my online boyfriend. At that exact moment, the ringleader’s phone buzzed. Cole Sterling pulled out his phone. The cold cruelty in his eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a soft warmth I had never seen on him. He typed: [Be good, Summer. I’m busy. Wait for me.] As soon as he hit send, my phone vibrated in my pocket. It was the special notification tone I had set for my boyfriend. I looked up in disbelief. He stood under the streetlamp, the sharp jawline and refined features perfectly matching the photos of my sweet, gentle “C.S.” But the way he held a cigarette between his lips, the darkness radiating off him… it was a world apart from the boy in the pictures. For a moment, I couldn’t tell if he was my perfect boyfriend, C.S., or Wendy Hart’s psycho boyfriend, Cole Sterling. “Leo, that’s the bitch who slashed my bag!” Wendy screeched, pointing a manicured finger at me. “She’s just jealous because she’s poor!” “I didn’t…” I hadn’t touched Wendy’s bag. That day, Wendy had tried to slap me for no reason. I dodged, she tripped, and her $20,000 Birkin scraped against the concrete. She demanded I pay for it. When I couldn’t, she told me to wait—her boyfriend, Cole Sterling, would “teach me a lesson.” I knew who Cole was. He was the heir to the Sterling empire. Rumor had it he was untouchable, ruthless, and feared by everyone. They called him the Devil of North High. I just never imagined that my kind, gentle “C.S.” and the Devil were the same person. Cole walked toward me, step by step. The warm yellow streetlamp light washed over him, but his eyes were ice cold. His tall frame loomed over me, suffocating. My fingers curled into fists as his voice cut through the air. “Two choices. Pay up, or get on your knees and apologize.” The cold arrogance was unrecognizable from the boy in my phone. I don’t know what came over me. Maybe my brain short-circuited. I looked him in the eye and said, “Do you believe me? I didn’t ruin her bag.” Cole stared at me for a second, then let out a scoff of pure disdain. “Ungrateful.” He turned his back on me, his voice bored. “Teach her a lesson.” My blood froze. His goons forced me to my knees. Slaps rained down on my face; kicks landed on my stomach. I was in so much pain I couldn’t even scream. Cole leaned against the wall, indifferent to the violence behind him. He stared at his phone screen with a tender smile, waiting for a reply. I curled into a ball, tears streaming down my face. After the beating, I lay on the ground for three hours before I could move. Two of my teeth were loose. My shirt was soaked in blood. I didn’t dare tell my parents. They were hardworking immigrants struggling just to keep the lights on. I was bullied because I was poor. “Trailer trash,” “Charity case,” “Selling you wouldn’t cover the tax.” Every insult taught me one thing: poverty strips you of dignity. “Ouch…” I applied antiseptic to my wounds in the dark. My phone kept dinging. It was C.S. [Summer baby, are you home?] [It’s late. Why aren’t you replying?] [Did I do something to make you mad?] Reading his sweet texts now made me feel sick. I typed and deleted a dozen responses. Finally, I sent: [Did you just go to the library tonight?] He paused for a second, then replied. 2 [Yeah! I studied hard today!] To prove it, he sent a photo of himself in the library. In the picture, he wore a crisp white shirt, smiling like a sunbeam next to a bookshelf. He looked like the perfect gentleman. It was all a lie. I was glad I never sent him my photo. I was glad he didn’t recognize me. It gave me a chance to see the monster beneath the skin. I didn’t dare skip school. I couldn’t afford to fall behind. During morning study hall, Wendy dragged me into the girls’ bathroom. Her clique surrounded me at the sinks. “Summer, you still have the nerve to show up? Wasn’t last night enough?” “Haha, maybe she likes it. She’s ugly and poor; thick skin is all she has.” “No wonder her name is Summer—she sweats like a pig!” They poured a bucket of dirty mop water over my head. The stench made me gag. “Ugh, Summer, you really are disgusting.” Wendy grabbed my hair, slapped me twice, then washed her hands like she had touched garbage and left. I slid down the tiled wall, burying my face in my knees to stop the sobs. They locked me in there until lunch. I thought that was the end of it. But Wendy wasn’t done. My desk was trashed. My homework vanished. The teachers stopped believing my excuses. Wendy was everywhere, haunting me. After school, I stayed in the library until closing to avoid her. But she was waiting at the gate with her crew. She slapped the thermos out of my hand. Splash. Coffee exploded over my legs, staining my only pair of white jeans. I looked up in anger, about to speak, but caught Cole’s warning glare. He stood next to her, smoking, looking at me like I was dirt. “What, Summer? You got a problem?” Wendy shoved me. I fell backward, landing in the puddle of coffee and mud. It smelled like earth and humiliation. Her friends laughed, calling me a pig rolling in slop. They tried to force my face into the puddle. Just as my nose touched the liquid, the librarian came out to lock up. “Hey! What’s going on?” Wendy and her minion let go instantly. Wendy flashed a sweet smile. “We’re just playing Truth or Dare with Summer!” “Yeah, Summer lost. She has to drink the coffee on the ground!” “No!” I shook my head, looking at the librarian with pleading eyes. “Ma’am, they’re forcing me.” The librarian frowned. Before she could speak, Wendy cut in. “Ma’am, don’t listen to her. She’s just a sore loser!” “Yeah, Summer, don’t be a baby. It’s just a game.” They outnumbered me. Their story was consistent. The librarian bought it. She glared at me. “Alright, enough games. Go home.” She left. She didn’t want to deal with it. Wendy looked down at me, triumphant. “See, Summer? No one believes you.” “You can tell whoever you want. I have a hundred ways to get away with it. You don’t.” 3 I sat in the puddle long after the campus lights went out. I walked home like a zombie. My mom was slamming dishes in the sink. “Look at you! Filthy again! I don’t have money to buy you new clothes!” “Wasting time on art… why can’t you be like your cousin? She works hard and doesn’t dream about useless things.” I was numb to her complaints. But tonight, I wanted to cry. I locked myself in my room. My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Cole. [Summer, are you done studying?] [Reply to me!] [Baby, did I do something wrong? You’re so cold lately.] [Don’t ignore me. It breaks my heart.] His heart? Right. He would be heartbroken. Even though we were just online, I knew how dependent he was on me. He demanded 24/7 attention. He told me about his broken home, his mother’s death, the darkness that consumed his childhood. I had been his light. I walked him out of that darkness. Since then, he was like a puppy, baring his belly to me. He once said: [Baby, you are the only light in my life.] [I’m becoming better for you. I’m studying, eating right… becoming the Prince you deserve.] [I love you most. Never leave me…] I remembered his words. Then I remembered him watching Wendy torment me. I asked him: [Cole, if someone bullied you, what would you do?] [I’d destroy them. Make them regret ever being born.] [Why? Is someone bullying you, Summer? Tell me. I’ll kill them for you.] [Nothing.] I didn’t need him. Cole Sterling, I have my own ways to make people regret being born. 4 In art class, Wendy walked by my easel and knocked over my water bucket. She ripped my canvas in half. “Summer, trash like you doesn’t deserve to paint. Art is expensive. Can your parents even afford the paint?” She sashayed away. I cleaned up the mess. I washed my brushes in the sink, watching the pigment swirl down the drain. I felt eyes on me. I turned. Cole. He was leaning against the doorframe, smoking. His eyes were full of mockery. I gripped my brush. When I tried to leave, he blocked me. “Apologize to Wendy tomorrow.” “I didn’t break her bag.” I met his gaze. The next second, he pressed the burning end of his cigarette into my arm. “Cut the crap!” “It’s a twenty-thousand-dollar bag. Just apologize. Don’t be stupid.” “I don’t have patience. Apologize, or you know what happens.” Cole left. I clutched my burned arm, tears falling silently. That night, my mom nagged me to quit art again. My dad told her to stop. Before bed, Dad came to me. “Just study hard. We’ll pay for art school.” I looked at his premature white hair and his glass eye. He had lost an eye protecting me from a stray dog when I was little. “Dad, I’ll get a scholarship. I’ll make money.” He smiled. “Are you okay? You seem off.” I shook my head. “I’m fine.” I wouldn’t worry them. Wendy thought I was soft. But did I have to swallow it just because I was poor? I had the security footage from the mall where Wendy tripped and scratched her own bag. I saved it. I had photos of my bruises. I had recordings from the library. Cole was blowing up my phone. 99+ messages. [Summer, what are you doing? Why won’t you talk to me?] [Did I mess up? Tell me, I’ll fix it.] [Summer… are you dumping me?] He was panicking. Oh, Cole. You really do have a heart to break. Don’t worry. The real pain hasn’t even started yet. 5 I didn’t answer his calls. I texted back: [I’m not dumping you.] [Really?] He was so insecure. [Then promise you won’t ignore me. It hurts.] My fingers trembled. [Okay.] [You’re the best. Summer, I want to meet you. Can I come find you?] We had agreed to meet after graduation. He couldn’t wait anymore. He felt me slipping away. [Summer?] [You said you’d stay with me forever. You won’t break your promise, right?] I felt a twinge of sadness. [Cole, you said you’d become a better person for me, right?] [Yeah, Summer. I’m trying.] He answered so quickly. As if the boy bullying me wasn’t him. [Then you have to be kind. Justice matters. You can’t do bad things.] Cole Sterling, I’m giving you a chance. You better not blow it. … Wendy wasn’t done. She took to the school forums. She posted a sob story about how I ruined her bag and refused to apologize. She played the victim perfectly. She said I was jealous of her wealth, that I was vain and burdened my poor parents. The internet mob turned on me. “Poor people are so toxic!” “If I can’t have it, I’ll break it? Disgusting.” “Kick Summer out of school!” “I heard Cole slapped her. Good. She deserved it.” Under the most viral post attacking me, I uploaded the video. Wendy tripping over her own feet. Scratching her own bag. Blaming me. The comments section went dead silent. I went to school. 6 Classmates apologized to me. The forum turned on Wendy. Justice is popular when the evidence is undeniable. Wendy became a pariah. She lost face. She wouldn’t let this go. But would Cole help her this time? He promised me he’d be good. When Cole cornered me in the alley again with his crew, I got my answer. Wendy was screaming. “Summer, you bitch! You set me up!” “I’m going to kill you today!” I ignored her. I looked at Cole. “Cole, you saw the video. I’m innocent.” I had sent it to his phone myself to make sure he saw it. He didn’t look at me. He tossed his cigarette. “So what? You didn’t do what I told you.” His voice was ice. I laughed. I shouldn’t have hoped. Cole was never the boy by the bookshelf. He was always this. Dark, selfish, cruel. “Summer thinks she can get away with it!” “Get her!” Someone pushed me. I hit the ground. Kicks and punches landed. It hurt, but I had two burner phones recording everything. Then, they went for my hands. “She paints with these, right? Shame.” “Her family can’t afford art school anyway. Let’s do her a favor and break them.” No! Art was my life! “Cole! Please! Stop them!” Cole turned. He looked at me. Like I was trash. “Ah!” A boot stomped on my hand. Bones crunched. The pain blinded me. “Cole… C.S….” My voice was fading. “You promised… you’d become the person I liked…” “You promised… no bad things…” Before I could finish, Cole’s face went white. He screamed, a sound of pure terror. “STOP! EVERYONE STOP!”

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My sister, born with a face only a mother could love, was determined to marry the Mayor’s handsome son. To become beautiful, she tried every trick in the book. One day, she brought home two pills, claiming they could transform a girl overnight. She didn’t take them herself. Instead, she crushed them into the dinner she served to me and our little sister. 1 Starved after a day of chores, my little sister, Daisy, devoured her dinner like a wolf. Even though my stomach growled and my mouth watered, I didn’t dare take a bite. I had seen it. I saw my older sister, Martha, bury the crushed pills at the bottom of our bowls. If these pills were so precious, so magical, why give them to us? “Eat up, Claire. Once I marry Caleb Thorne, we’ll all be eating steak and lobster every night,” Martha said, a rare, gentle smile on her face. Daisy looked up, her big, doll-like eyes shining. Her skin was already porcelain white, perfect without any magic. “I want pork chops for every meal!” she chirped. I played along. “Sis, whatever you’re using lately, it’s working. You look amazing. Caleb won’t be able to look away.” Martha grinned so wide I thought her face would split. Caleb Thorne was the Mayor’s son, the only boy in our backwater town who had gone to college in the city. He was handsome, educated, and completely out of our league. To keep him from leaving again, the Mayor announced he was finding Caleb a local wife. The moment he graduated, there would be a wedding. Every girl in town was fluttering with excitement. But none more than my unfortunate-looking sister. Daisy finished her bowl and licked her lips. When Martha turned her back, Daisy looked at my untouched food. “Claire, are you gonna eat that? Can I have it?” I frowned, hesitated, and then dumped my bowl into the pig trough. A spotted black piglet gobbled it up in three bites. The next morning, we found Daisy in the pigpen. Her chest had been torn open. She was dead. Martha said it was a wild boar. Daisy was young, so there was no funeral. Martha wrapped her in a straw mat and buried her in the backyard without a tear. I noticed the spotted piglet was missing, too. At the same time, a bag of red powder appeared in Martha’s room. Every day, she mixed it with water into a thick, blood-like paste and smeared it on her face. She told me it was a new, high-end facial mask from the city. 2 Every night, Martha painted her face with that crimson sludge. And every morning, she looked more beautiful. The pockmarks vanished. Her skin became smooth as glass. Even her small, beady eyes seemed to grow larger and brighter. The town gossips started joking that the Mayor’s son didn’t stand a chance against her. Martha soaked it up, swaying her hips that seemed slimmer every day. “We have to wait for Caleb to come back. The Mayor doesn’t decide everything.” She was stunning now, but there was a catch. She smelled. A faint, metallic stench of raw meat hung around her, no matter how much she scrubbed. It was overpowering when the mask was on, but it lingered even when her face was clean. I also noticed that as the sun went down, her beauty faded. By nightfall, she looked like her old, homely self. That was when she would retreat to her room, mix the powder, and apply it religiously. By sunrise, the beauty returned. The water she used was specific. I had to collect morning dew, boil it, and collect the condensation from the pot lid. Every morning, I stared at my reflection in the bucket—dirty, dark, plain—and wondered. If I used that mask, would I be beautiful too? One day, Martha went to town. I snuck into her room to steal a pinch of the powder, but the bag was empty. She must have gone to buy more. She didn’t return until the next evening, looking uglier than I had ever seen her. That night, I watched her silhouette in the window. She poured something out and began her ritual. I knew that by morning, the beauty would be back. I woke up early to collect the dew. As I opened the door, I nearly ran into our neighbor, Mrs. Gable. She looked frantic. “Claire, have you seen my Lana? She hasn’t been home in two days.” Lana? She was the prettiest girl in town, Martha’s childhood friend. She was missing? 3 Caleb Thorne came home. At first, he refused to even consider a local girl. But the moment he saw Martha, he froze. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” He couldn’t stop complimenting her scent. I thought she must have drowned herself in perfume, but when I got close, I nearly gagged. It was the same rotting, metallic stench. Martha got her wish. They were engaged. The day before the engagement party, Martha brought home a massive wooden tub. She dumped half a bag of the red powder into it. I had to stir it with a broom handle for an hour to mix it. It looked like a tub of coagulated blood. Martha soaked in it for hours. When she emerged, she was otherworldly. Her skin seemed to glow with a faint red light. She walked on her tiptoes, like a ballerina, wrapped in a towel, heading to her room. I followed like a servant, carrying her clothes. As we passed the kitchen, the glass terrarium by the stove started shaking. Inside, a small white snake was thrashing wildly, hissing and striking the glass. Caleb had given it to her. He said exotic pets were trendy in the city. I shrunk back. My woodshed was full of garden snakes in the summer; I didn’t see the appeal of keeping one in a box. Martha leaned down, tapping the glass with a blood-red fingernail. “You think I’m beautiful too, don’t you?” The snake went berserk, throwing its body against the glass all night. Around midnight, Martha stormed into the woodshed. “Take that thing out of here! It’s too loud!” “But Caleb said it needs heat. The box is plugged in. There’s no outlet in the shed…” “I don’t care! The whole town is coming tomorrow. If I don’t sleep, I won’t be beautiful!” She glared at me. “But an ugly thing like you wouldn’t understand.” I dragged the heavy box into the shed. The snake thrashed whenever Martha was near, but calmed down once we were away from her. I stayed awake all night, hugging the glass box to keep the snake warm with my body heat. I was woken up by noise. Mom was back from her job in the city. She was strutting around like a peacock, clinging to Martha’s arm, bragging to the neighbors about her gorgeous daughter marrying into the Thorne family. I watched through the cracks in the shed wall, feeling a hollow ache in my chest. When Daisy died, Mom didn’t even come home for the burial. Now she was beaming like she had never lost a child. The yard was full of food. For once, I got to sit at a table and eat my fill. After the guests left, I snuck a piece of pork knuckle and went to the backyard. Daisy had said she wanted pork chops. When I got to Daisy’s grave, I froze. There was a fresh mound of earth right next to it. 4 The wedding was set for a month later. On the night of the engagement party, Martha didn’t come home. The next morning, I heard her crying in the yard, telling Caleb he had to take responsibility and move up the wedding date. Lately, whenever I brought firewood into the house, the smell of blood was overpowering. The cold weather came early. By September, we could see our breath. Martha was afraid the snake would freeze, so she made me bring it back inside. The moment I stepped into the house, the snake went insane. It arched its back, striking the glass, its patterns swirling dizzyingly. My hands shook. I plugged it in and ran back to the shed. That night, I heard Martha and Mom arguing. “Who told you to use my mask?! I need it for forty-nine days!” “It’s just one day short!” Mom hissed. “I need to look good too. The Mayor has been a widower for years. If we snag both of them, we’re set for life!” “I know more about this than you! The first thirty days are critical!” I didn’t understand. What were they talking about? Curiosity pulled me out of bed. I crept to the main house window. The door was locked. I pressed one eye to a crack in the wood. I gasped. The white snake was dead. It had bashed its head open against the glass. The tank was smeared with blood. Inside, Martha was sobbing. “Don’t worry,” Mom said soothingly. “We still have Claire.” 5 The next morning, I brought the dew water. The door was still locked. “Sister, I have the water.” The door flew open, knocking me back. Martha’s head was wrapped completely in scarves, showing only her eyes. Her eyes… they were cloudy, like an old woman’s. The skin around them was sagging and wrinkled. “The mask is gone! What good is the water?!” “Why are you so ugly?! Useless trash!” She kicked over the bucket and started beating me. I curled up, protecting my head. After she stormed back inside, the wind carried her scent to me. It was the smell of a butcher shop. I gagged. “Hello?” A strange, accented voice came from the gate. I turned. A woman stood there. She looked foreign, but her English was perfect. “I am Serena. I practice the old ways. I sensed a strange energy in this house.” “I think you need help.” Martha ran out, desperate. She begged Serena for a reading. Serena frowned, sniffing the air. She stared at Martha with suspicion. “I will return at midnight.” She came back that night. She laid out a cloth with letters on it—a spirit board. She held a dagger over it, chanting. Her hand moved on its own, spelling out words I couldn’t read. She did this three times. Each time, blood seeped from her fingertips. She clutched her chest in pain. Finally, she looked up, pale. “Someone is looking for something lost.” “Did a dead person leave something here?” Martha and Mom shook their heads frantically. Serena narrowed her eyes. She pulled a small tin from her bag and handed it to Martha. “Use this. It might help your face.” Martha grabbed it, hiding her covered face. She hadn’t shown her skin all day. How did Serena know? 6 Martha ran inside to apply the balm. I stood there, watching Serena pack up. A minute later, Martha ran out, ecstatic. “You’re a goddess! It works! Do you have more?” Her scarves were gone. Her face was beautiful again. Her eyes were bright and youthful. Serena ignored her. She stared at the corner of the yard. “How did the snake die?” It was pitch black. How did she see the dead snake in the shadows? Mom scoffed. “My son-in-law gave it to her. Dumb thing just bashed its head in last night.” Serena looked from Mom to Martha, then to me. “Just two daughters?” “Yeah. The youngest one got eaten by a wild boar a while back,” Mom said casually. “A child spirit. Taken too soon.” “You should perform a rite for her if you can.” Martha and Mom rolled their eyes. Seeing Serena wasn’t going to give them more balm, they turned and went inside. Serena watched them go, smiling faintly. Then she turned to me. “I summoned a vengeful spirit just now.” “It won’t stop until it finds what it lost.” 7 “Tonight, no matter what happens, do not make a sound.” That was the last thing Serena said to me. Two days until the wedding. The Mayor sent over gifts. The house was festive. Even I got a new dress. But I couldn’t smile. Serena’s warning echoed in my head. Night came. Mom and Martha went to sleep early. I lay in the shed, wide awake. Creak. The shed door opened. I tried to sit up, but I couldn’t move. Sleep paralysis? A cold wind blew in. Someone sat down next to me and started to weep. Drip. A cold drop landed on my eyelid. A wave of overwhelming sadness washed over me, drowning out my fear. I forced my eyes open. It was her! The scream rose in my throat. No matter what happens, do not make a sound. I swallowed the scream. “Are you okay?” she asked. I couldn’t move my head. I could only stare at her, tears streaming down my face. Her eyes couldn’t focus. She stared blankly at me. Drip. Drip. Drip. It wasn’t tears falling from her eyes. It was blood. 8 She raised a hand that looked like a withered branch and closed my eyes. “I’m going to find my things.” Silence. I tried to move, but I was frozen. I couldn’t even hear anymore. What was she looking for? I lay there, stiff as a corpse, until dawn. “MOM!” Martha’s scream broke the spell. I could move. Nothing was missing from the house. But Mom was dead. She was staring at the ceiling, eyes bulging. Her face was purple. Her hands were rigid claws, one of them digging into her own throat. The wedding was tomorrow. The Mayor came and shook his head. “We have to cancel.” “No!” Martha screamed. “Mom’s dying wish was to see me marry Caleb!” Caleb arrived. He looked possessed. He insisted the wedding happen or he would leave the country forever. The house was chaos. The wedding prep continued around a corpse. I helped the local women clean Mom’s body. When we took off her shirt, everyone gasped. There was a purple handprint on her chest. “It’s Daisy,” one woman whispered. “She’s come back.” “They say she died getting her heart torn out.” But they didn’t notice one thing. The handprint was adult-sized.

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My husband, Julian Vance, had a secret romance when he was young. His first love died tragically, leaving behind only the dog they raised together to keep him company. We’ve been married for three years, and that dog has hated me from day one. It shreds my clothes and has sent me to the ER multiple times. When my friends tried to stand up for me, Julian’s voice was cold: “It’s just a nip. Why are you holding a grudge against a dog?” After I found out I was pregnant, I suggested boarding the dog somewhere else. Julian snapped: “Live with it or leave. Do you ever get tired of being so petty?” In the past, I would have felt ashamed and backed down. But this time, looking at the mess on the floor, I stayed silent for a long time. The bite mark on my shoulder was freshly scabbed and still throbbing. I said, “Then let’s divorce.” 1 On my third day in the hospital, Julian finally came to see me. I sat on the edge of the bed, eyes downcast, waiting for the doctor to change my dressing. Outside the door, my friends were arguing loudly on my behalf. “Julian, how many times has Snowball bitten Lydia? This time it was her shoulder—any higher and it would have been her throat!” Snowball was Julian’s Rottweiler. Fierce, loyal, and aggressive. This wasn’t the first time. I got bitten on the calf the week after our wedding. But this was the worst. Half my shoulder was a bloody mess, flesh torn open. It was gruesome. “If you ask me, a dog that dangerous should be put down or rehomed. Lydia treats it like gold, and it acts like a wolf.” “Exactly. Careful, Julian, next time it might turn on you. Some dogs just can’t be tamed.” The voices were a chorus of condemnation against the dog. When Julian pushed the door open, his face was dark. The doctor’s movements were gentle, but the pain still made me pale, a sheen of cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. Julian stood by the door, watching in silence. When the doctor left, his first words were: “It’s just a bite. Why are you holding a grudge against a dog?” He frowned, looking at me like I was being unreasonable. “Lydia, you’re twenty-five years old. Tattling to my mother? Have you no shame?” Someone had told his mother I was hospitalized. The Vance and Sterling families go back generations; Julian and I grew up together. His mother was furious and demanded he get rid of the dog. Julian thought I was the one pulling strings behind his back. I suddenly understood why he hadn’t come for three days. He was punishing me. I wanted to laugh, but the movement pulled at my wound. It hurt, a deep ache that settled in my bones. I remembered when we first got married. That was my first meeting with Snowball. I knew Julian had a dog, so I bought premium treats and toys. But Snowball growled the moment he saw me and sank his teeth into my leg. When my mom visited me in the hospital back then, I covered for him. “It’s fine, he’s just scared of strangers. Don’t blame the dog.” I was afraid my family would hurt the dog, and afraid they would think less of Julian. I was young and naive, full of hope for my marriage. I never imagined that lie would become my nightmare. When Snowball shredded my dresses, Julian told me to stop making a scene. When Snowball dragged mud all over our bed, Julian scolded me for being fussy. And now, with my shoulder chewed to pieces, Julian said the same thing. Don’t be petty. Don’t hold a grudge against a dog. I used to tell myself that Julian wasn’t a stone; he was just slow to warm up. He made me brown sugar tea when I had cramps. He drove ten hours overnight to see me on my birthday when I was away for work. But now, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. In three years of marriage, I had never been his priority. 2 After I was discharged, I took a cab straight to my parents’ house. My mom was thrilled to see me, then horrified by my shoulder. I lied again. I said it was just a scratch. During my recovery, Julian didn’t call once. I don’t know how he convinced his mother, but he kept the dog. In the middle of our cold war, he posted a photo on Instagram: [She didn’t leave much behind. Just Snowball, and me.] “She” was Clara. Julian had a secret relationship when he was a teenager. She was his first love, the love of his life. She died in an accident two years later. The comments section was full of sympathy: “Clara was an angel. If she were still here, she and Julian would be married by now.” “Julian is so loyal. I heard he tried to follow her when she died.” Someone asked: “What about Lydia? Why did he marry her?” The replies came fast: “Lydia who? If Clara were alive, Julian wouldn’t even look at her.” “Exactly. He’s just trying to move on. Clara would want him to have a normal life.” Amidst the ridicule, I saw Julian’s reply. One word. [Settling.] A few days later, Julian started being seen with a girl. Her name was Sophie, an intern at his company. She looked terrifyingly like Clara. In the photos, Sophie was kneeling, hugging Snowball’s head. The vicious dog looked as gentle as a lamb. Julian stood watching them, a tenderness in his eyes that I had never seen. It rained on our wedding day. The sky turned black in an instant. Maybe that was the omen. My marriage was damp, cold, and forever in Clara’s shadow. But it turned out I couldn’t even compete with an intern who just looked like her. I was the only one who had been naive enough to think, “Clouds pass. The sun will come out.” I finally understood that the living can never compete with the dead. Because Clara wasn’t here, it didn’t matter who he married. I was stupid to think I could heal him. Julian never wanted my healing. And now, stripping away the fake warmth, Julian delivered his verdict. Three years of marriage. Just “settling.” Just my wishful thinking. 3 Two weeks later, Julian finally cracked. He called, his voice full of accusation: “Have you made your point? When are you coming home?” Maybe he remembered my injury, because his tone softened slightly. “Don’t be mad at Snowball. That breed is just loyal. When Clara brought him home, it took ages to train him…” He stopped abruptly, realizing he’d slipped. He changed the subject clumsily. “Anyway, I’ve trained him. Pack your things. I’ll pick you up this afternoon.” The ride back was suffocatingly silent. Julian handed me a bag, his voice stiff. “I bought you spicy rice cakes. Your favorite.” I didn’t take it. The doctor said no spicy food while the wound was healing. But Julian clearly didn’t care to remember. Seeing I didn’t take it, he assumed I was still sulking. He scoffed and threw the bag into the backseat trash bin. “Eat or don’t. I don’t care.” The air in the car dropped another ten degrees. No one spoke until we got home. 4 “I bought the new season from that brand you like. It’s all in the closet.” To be fair, Julian wasn’t a terrible husband on paper. He remembered birthdays and anniversaries. He wasn’t stingy with gifts, and I had unrestricted access to his cards. Whenever we fought, he would smooth things over with expensive presents. So I always thought he was just emotionally constipated, that deep down, he cared. I hated myself for still having a shred of hope. I clutched my stomach and opened the bedroom door. But instead of designer clothes, I was greeted by chaos. The bed, the sofa—everything was covered in shreds of fabric. Our wedding photo in the center of the room had been smashed. Red fabric scraps floated in the air like bloody feathers, mixing with the shattered glass on the floor. Snowball was lying in the middle of the bed, covered in mud from the garden. He had deliberately rolled in the dirt before jumping onto the sheets. Julian froze. He frowned and called the dog over. Turning to me, he looked uncomfortable. “I didn’t know he’d do this. It’s just clothes. I’ll buy you more. Don’t yell at him.” Snowball trotted over slowly, bumping his heavy head against my leg as a provocation. He dropped something from his mouth. It was a bracelet. Julian’s face went pale. He kicked the dog instinctively. “Why do you chew everything?! Do you know whose that is?!” Snowball didn’t know, but I did. It was the bracelet Clara gave Julian. He treated it like a holy relic. Unlike our wedding rings. Several pieces of the bracelet had rolled into the glass shards. Julian was on his knees, frantically picking them up. He didn’t even look at me. I walked over and picked up our wedding ring from the debris. “Snowball is too destructive. We need to board him.” I took a deep breath. “You want me to stop being mad? Send the dog away.” I could tolerate it when it was just me. But I was pregnant. I wouldn’t risk my child. Julian looked up, his eyes icy. “Lydia, there’s a limit to my patience. You’re being petty. It’s not like you…” I pressed my hand over my stomach, cutting him off. “Either I go, or the dog goes. Pick one.” My ultimatum snapped whatever patience he had left. He stood up and kicked the chair over. “Live with it or leave! Lydia, I’ve given you enough face. You target that dog every day. Are you annoying or what?” In the past, I would have apologized. But looking at the ruins of my bedroom, I stayed silent. My shoulder throbbed. I said, “Then let’s divorce.” I pressed my hand flat against my belly. He didn’t need to know about the baby. This child wasn’t wanted. Its father didn’t love its mother, so he wouldn’t love it either. 5 The divorce was quick. Julian looked furious until he realized I was serious. Then he signed the papers with a flourish. “I didn’t know you were such a shrew, fighting with a dog.” His voice was cold, laced with disappointment. “If I had known, I never would have married you.” Three years of devotion, repaid with the word “shrew.” I packed my bags that night. Before I left, Snowball blocked the door. Julian called him, but the dog wouldn’t move. Snowball was staring at the bag in my hand. I realized it was a toy I had bought to bribe him. He hated it, so I never even opened the package. Since I was leaving, I was taking everything I paid for. I’d donate it to a shelter. I was done trying to please ungrateful beasts. Julian dragged the dog away by its collar. As I walked out, I heard Snowball whine. I didn’t look back. I heard Julian scolding him: “She’s heartless. She dumped you. Stop begging. Have some dignity.” I was the heartless woman in his narrative. 6 Outside the operating room. When the doctor asked me one last time if I was sure, my hand twitched on my stomach. It felt like the little life inside was high-fiving me through my skin. My mother had health issues; I was an only child. My grandmother only had one daughter too. This baby might be the only family I would ever have. I wavered. I told the doctor I needed to think about it. I called my best friend, Mia, to pick me up. As I walked out of the clinic, I ran straight into them. Sophie was clinging to Julian’s arm, laughing. Julian saw me. He frowned and stepped forward. “What are you doing here? Are you sick?” I slapped his hand away. “None of your business.” His eyes darkened. Before he could speak, Sophie shimmied over. “Julian, the movie is starting. Let’s go.” She pretended to notice me for the first time. “Oh, hi! Do you know Julian? I’m Sophie, his girlfriend.” She emphasized the word girlfriend. She knew exactly who I was. Mia arrived just in time to hear that. She exploded. “Girlfriend? They were married! You’re a homewrecker, and you’re bragging to the ex-wife?” Sophie’s face fell. She looked at Julian with teary eyes. “Julian…” With that face so like Clara’s, Julian melted instantly. He looked at me coldly. “We’re divorced. I didn’t know what love was until I met Sophie. She is my partner now. Show some respect.” Mia gasped, staring at me. I hadn’t told her about the divorce yet. “Julian, are you crazy? You divorced her? Do you know Lydia is…” I tried to stop her, but it was too late. “…Lydia is pregnant! You divorced a pregnant woman to be with a mistress? Are you human?” Silence. Sophie froze. Julian’s head snapped up. He stared at my stomach. He grabbed my wrist, ignoring my struggle. “Lydia, is it true?” He touched my belly, his voice trembling. “Is our child in there?”

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After losing a bet, I was forced to confess to the school’s ice-cold genius. [Text: “Need a girlfriend? I promise I’m a good girl.”] A second later, I was blocked. Just as I was about to give up in despair, I stumbled upon him choking himself, veins popping on his forehead. He was arguing with himself, switching between cold and manic: “Let go. Get a grip, man!” “Get a grip? You blocked my girlfriend! I’ll kill you!” Me: …Girlfriend? Me? Suddenly, a stream of floating comments appeared before my eyes: [OMG! It’s dual personalities! We’re saved!] [Hehe, does this mean the golden retriever personality will cook while getting jealous of himself?] [Lucky girl! Two for the price of one…] Me: ??? 1 [Text: “Need a girlfriend? I promise I’m a good girl.”] Staring at the red exclamation mark indicating a failed message, my world collapsed. The great Academic God, Caleb Thorne, minoring in mood swings? Two minutes ago, he added me! [Text: “How should I catch you? A sack or sweet talk?”] Looking at that blatant flirtation now, the irony was thick. Why did I think he’d be interested in a chubby, plain girl like me? But did he have to prank me? Tears pricked my eyes. I couldn’t help but curse him out: [Text: “I don’t like perverts who wear pink leopard-print boxers anyway!”] If it wasn’t for his weird fetish, I wouldn’t have lost the bet in the first place. I wanted to keep typing, but I realized the message had gone through. The embarrassment was physically painful. I curled my toes. Did he block me by accident? I tried to save it: [Text: “I wasn’t finished! I meant I don’t like perverts, I only like you.”] Ugh… That message bounced back with a red exclamation mark. My roommates burst out laughing. “I told you! With eyes like that, there’s no way he’s blind.” “Mia, just getting him to notice you enough to block you is a victory over 99% of the girls here.” “It was just a joke anyway. You didn’t actually think Caleb would like you, right?” I forced a bitter smile and waved my hands. “Of course not.” But my chest felt like it was stuffed with wet cotton. I couldn’t breathe. If he didn’t like me, he could have just ignored me. Why toy with me? Is being fat and ugly a sin? I hid in a tree deep in the campus woods to cry. Suddenly, I heard a violent argument. I wiped my eyes and looked down. Caleb Thorne was gritting his teeth, choking his own neck, veins bulging on his forehead. He slammed himself against the tree trunk, switching between icy cold and manic rage: “Let go! Get a grip, man!” “Get a grip? You blocked my girlfriend! I’ll kill you!” Me: …Girlfriend? I pointed a finger at myself. “Me?” Suddenly, floating comments appeared in my vision like a Twitch stream: [OMG! It’s dual personalities! We’re saved!] [Hehe, does this mean the golden retriever personality will cook while getting jealous of himself?] [Lucky girl! Two for the price of one…] Me: ??? Frozen, I watched as Caleb looked up. 2 Startled by his sharp gaze, I panicked and grabbed two branches to hide my face. The comments popped up again: [Girl, stop hiding! He already saw you. Your face is redder than a stop sign.] [Uh oh, his eyes changed again! Murderous intent!] [Doomed. The two personalities disagree. Run, girl!] I stiffened. I looked down nervously. Our eyes met. His gaze was deep, like a black hole threatening to swallow me. I panicked. I was about to yell “I’m blind!”, but then his eyes changed. They became clear, shy, and full of obvious affection. Yay! The negotiable personality! I smiled and was about to wave, but before I could speak, his expression turned cold and mocking again. Back and forth. My face mirrored his, switching between fear and smiles until my muscles ached. I was afraid his split personality was contagious! Suddenly, Caleb grabbed his own collar and growled: “I’m going on a date with my girlfriend. Don’t scare her again. Get lost!” Then, one of his hands slowly, painfully pried the other hand off: “Why should I?” “Why don’t you ask her whose girlfriend she wants to be?” Me: “…” Is there a difference? The comments went wild: [Seen guys fight for a girl, never seen a guy fight himself. Surprise! The other man is you.] [How about this: try one personality for a few days, then the other. Pick the best one. Our girl is fair.] [Just live happily as a throuple. 1v2 is the optimal solution.] Me: “?” I’ve heard of people awakening systems, but usually, the comments give helpful advice. Why are mine just instigating chaos? Before I could process it, Caleb was eager to climb the tree. “Babe, don’t be scared! I’m coming to save you! I’ll show you what boyfriend material looks like!” But the next second, he leaned lazily against the tree, arms crossed. “Go ahead. Let’s see you save her.” Then he punched himself in the face and fell to the ground. “Give me back my body! If you stop me from saving her, I’ll kill you!” “Kill me then.” He wiped the blood from his lip, forcing a sinister smile. “If I die, you disappear too. Then your ‘babe’ will be with another man. They’ll hold hands, kiss, sleep together…” Caleb’s words made me overheat. “Enough!” I shouted in embarrassment. In my agitation, I didn’t notice I had scooted onto a thin branch. Snap. The branch broke. “Ahhh!” I fell. 3 The pain I expected never came. I tentatively touched what was underneath me. Hm, soft. Touch again. Whoa, hard. The comments doubled their scrolling speed: [This belongs on AO3, not here.] [Look at his dazed eyes. He says no, but his body says yes.] [So who saved her? And who did she just grope?] [Judging by the way he dove to cushion her fall, it must be…] “Done touching?” Caleb’s voice came from below. Three parts cold, seven parts strained. I shivered. That was the Caleb who didn’t like me. Ignoring the comments, I scrambled up and bowed repeatedly. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” I’m heavy. Even though the tree wasn’t high, I must have hurt him. His hand stayed on his chest, brows furrowed. “Thank you for saving me. But don’t do that again. It’s dangerous.” “I have lots of padding, it doesn’t hurt when I fall—ahhh!” Caleb reached out and pinched my cheek. “Hurt?” I rubbed my cheek and nodded. “Yes.” He wanted to say more, but his hand suddenly clamped around his own throat. “You touched her! I didn’t even dare, how dare you?” He let out a muffled groan. Gritted his teeth. As if fighting a powerful force, he slowly moved his hand toward my face. “I—will—touch!” “You—want—to—die!” Caleb’s bright eyes turned dark. One hand choked himself, the other stubbornly reached for my face. Seeing him get closer, I panicked and dodged to the side. But I tripped on a rock. Before I fell, I grabbed at anything I could find. I didn’t have time to choose. I pulled Caleb’s pants down. White legs flashed before my eyes. The atmosphere froze instantly. Even the comments went silent for a moment before exploding: [His underwear is so flashy! Tsk tsk, surprised he found his size.] [Look at the puppy’s blank face. Both of them are stunned. Didn’t know our girl was so bold.] [Go, girl! Besides being handsome, he has a lot of hidden treasures waiting to be discovered.] My face was burning red. I scrambled up to apologize. I looked up into that expanse of pink leopard print and lost my voice. I lowered my head and ran for my life. 4 I couldn’t sleep. The comments were still scrolling. From the fragments of information, I pieced together that this world is a romance novel. Caleb is the male lead. The female lead… Yes, it’s me! My heart pounded. [Look at her smile! She’s definitely thinking about the puppy.] [Crush turned reality. If I were her, I’d wake up laughing.] [Her face is red. Is she thinking about the… hehehe…] I covered my hot cheeks, breathing fast. I couldn’t get the image of Caleb in those pink leopard boxers out of my head. He was… kind of cute. I hid under the blanket. But I swore I’d seen that pattern somewhere before. Outside, rain started to fall. My memory rewound to the day I first met Caleb. It was raining, and I was the only one in our dorm with an umbrella. But as soon as I opened it, my roommates snatched it. They squeezed under it, laughing like it was their right. “Mia, this umbrella is perfect for the three of us. You can let us have it.” “You’re so sturdy, a little rain won’t hurt.” “Think of it as a weight loss sauna. You’ll thank us.” They walked away without waiting for an answer. The rain got heavier. I jogged after them to get my umbrella back. I stepped in a puddle and twisted my ankle, falling into the mud. Mud splashed everywhere. People walked around me with looks of disgust. My roommates were long gone. I tried to stand up, but the pain was blinding. I fell back down. Pain and humiliation overwhelmed me. I started to cry. Just as I couldn’t tell rain from tears anymore, the rain stopped over my head. A pair of white shoes appeared. Then, Caleb’s face—so handsome it made my heart skip—leaned in close. “Biomechanical studies prove that when body mass distribution exceeds the golden ratio of 0.618, the torque on the ankle joint becomes pathological. With a BMI over 28, you not only increase joint stress but also cardiovascular risk by 47%.” Caleb’s cold voice cut through the rain. That was the last thing he said to me that day. Thinking of that, my excitement vanished. I deflated like a balloon. I missed the sunnier personality. If only he were the real Caleb. Too bad. I poked my belly fat. Male lead and female lead? So what? Fat blocks the protagonist’s halo. After much thought. I decided— Diet! 5 The next morning, I swapped meat buns for veggie ones. And five for two. My roommate looked surprised, then sneered. “Mia, Caleb really hurt you, huh? Dieting now?” “You don’t think losing weight will make him like you, do you?” “Didn’t you hear? He rejected the school beauty. You think you have a shot?” Her mockery stabbed me like a knife. This wasn’t my first diet. But every time, their teasing made me lose confidence, and I gave up. Just like liking Caleb. I never dared to let anyone know. I only watched from afar. Using the bet was the only way I could muster the courage. They wanted to see me fail. But I just wanted to be closer to him, even as a joke. But once you get a taste, you get greedy, right? I clenched my fist to retort. Ding. My phone buzzed. Caleb: [AHHHH sorry babe I just saw this!] Caleb: [Babe, that message was for me, right? Only for me, right? Just for me, right?] My heart raced. My face heated up. I forgot I sent Caleb a “Goodnight” sticker before bed. I didn’t expect a reply. I just wanted to see if I was still blocked. Silence all night made me think he wouldn’t respond. But he… The comments popped up out of nowhere: [Don’t be mad, girl. He didn’t reply last night, but he stared at your chat for hours.] [The other personality usually hides. If the main hadn’t deleted you, he wouldn’t have exploded.] [Comfort the puppy! He’s crazy enough to kill himself!] I woke up and started typing. Ding ding ding. Messages interrupted me. Caleb: [Remember when I pinched your cheek and asked if it hurt? I wanted to tell you to always be honest with yourself.] Caleb: [Now, tell me honestly. You were thinking of me when you sent that, right?] Me: “…?” Changed personalities? Caleb: [Screenshot (“Need a girlfriend? I promise I’m a good girl.”)] Caleb: [Not anymore, good girlfriend.] My eyes widened in shock. Before I could react, more messages came. Caleb: [Babe, don’t believe him. He’s not me. He’s just using you to provoke me.] Caleb: [We already agreed you’re my girlfriend. You’re mine! Mine! Don’t talk to him!] Face: completely red. I felt like I was in a furnace. Sweating. Profusely. 6 Thinking about how to reply to Caleb made me distracted all morning. I didn’t even hear the bell. Until someone nudged my elbow. I pretended to listen to the lecture. “Calling your name,” a classmate whispered. I stood up abruptly. “Okay, Mia Smith. Courageous. You’ll play the Princess.” Me: “?” What? Princess? Laughter erupted. Everyone was looking at me. Their eyes full of mockery made me feel like a joke. I realized I’d been played. [The guy playing the Prince is a creep who likes to grope girls. Don’t do it!] [Yeah, don’t go. Or the male lead will get expelled for beating him up to protect you.] My heart sank. I raised my hand to explain the misunderstanding. But my roommates rushed over and covered my mouth, holding me down. I watched the drama club president leave after giving instructions. I was furious. When they let go, I pushed them hard. “Am I not good to you?” “Why treat me like this?” They stole my face wash, my lotion. They always picked expensive places for dinner, and I always paid. They said they’d Venmo me later, but never did. My parents said meeting people is fate, don’t be petty. So I paid because I could afford it. But they were getting worse. And this time it involved Caleb. I wouldn’t take it anymore. “Are you crazy, Mia?” They stumbled back, and seeing the crowd gather, they fell on purpose. Looking pathetic and innocent. “Mia, we just saw you were sad about Caleb rejecting you. We wanted you to play the Princess to cheer up.” “Yeah, maybe you’ll meet other guys. Maybe you’ll find love.” The crowd gasped, whispering among themselves, faces full of disgust. “Did I hear right? A pig wants to date a god? Enough.” “I declare this the worst smear campaign against Caleb ever.” I wanted to stomp my feet. The frustration swelled in my chest until it hurt. My fists turned white. “Who said I got rejected?” “And which eye saw me sad?” “Stop lying, Mia. Your bed shook all night. If you weren’t crying, were you doing something unspeakable?” Laughter erupted again. Some guys looked at me with dirty eyes. My eyes burned. Tears blurred my vision. “I was laughing! Laughing, you idiots!” “Caleb accepted my confession!”

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Before we married, my husband, Caleb Thorne, had a girl who chased him relentlessly for five years. He rejected her because he fell in love with me at first sight. Three years later, that girl returned to the States as an internationally acclaimed photographer. She was radiant, successful, and breathtakingly beautiful. And me? I was a stay-at-home mom, weighing over 180 pounds, with zero achievements to my name. At a party, someone joked with Caleb: “You know, Serena Vance is still saving herself for you…” Caleb immediately snapped, “Don’t talk nonsense!” But that night… I found him on the balcony, chain-smoking until dawn. 1 I was changing my daughter’s diaper when Caleb dropped the news that Serena was back. My hand froze. “Is she going to be at the party tonight?” Caleb buttoned his cufflink, avoiding my gaze. “Yeah. It’s a welcome-back dinner for her, hosted by Ryan, her childhood friend.” “Are you coming?” he asked, purely out of habit. Since giving birth, I rarely went out with him. My world had shrunk to the four walls of our nursery. He expected me to say no. But for some reason, the words that came out of my mouth were: “Yes. I’ll go.” Caleb paused, surprised. But he was a man who prided himself on decorum. He masked his shock quickly. “Okay. I’ll wait for you downstairs.” When we walked into the private dining room at the upscale bistro, the chatter died instantly. At the center of the room sat a woman with long, flowing hair and an aura of effortless elegance. She tilted her head, her gaze locking onto us. “Caleb. Long time no see.” Her voice was bright and melodic. Caleb glanced at her, smiled politely, and placed a protective hand on my shoulder. “Serena. Don’t you recognize your sister-in-law?” Serena blinked. “Oh! Sorry, I didn’t recognize her at first. Hi, Lily.” I nodded with a faint smile. “Hello.” Before I could finish, Serena looked away, her eyes slightly red. “Can you blame her?” Ryan, the wealthy heir and Serena’s fiercely loyal friend, drawled from the corner. His eyes swept over me with thinly veiled disdain. “Lily has… changed a lot.” My face burned. I tugged at the hem of my shirt. Post-pregnancy, I had ballooned from a size 2 to a size 14. My once-slender frame was now heavy, my face round and puffy. It was the reason I hid from the world. “Watch your mouth, Ryan!” Caleb grabbed a lighter from the table and tossed it at his friend. Ryan caught it, smirked at me, and downed his drink. “Fine, fine. My bad. I’ll drink to apologize.” The conversation quickly shifted back to Serena. Everyone wanted to know about her life abroad. She was now a famous photographer. Her recent portfolio on African wildlife had just won a prestigious international award. “Remember when Serena used to chase Caleb around with a camera?” someone laughed. “Now she’s a big-shot artist and an influencer! She just launched her Instagram and already has 100k followers!” “Serena, you look incredible. I almost didn’t recognize you. I thought a supermodel had walked in!” Serena soaked up the praise with a graceful smile. She held a slim cigarette between her fingers, her leather jacket draped over her shoulders, revealing a figure that was sharp, sexy, and free. I looked down at myself. Flat shoes. Wide-leg pants. An oversized blazer I had frantically dug out of the back of my closet because nothing else fit. In front of this group of polished, successful young elites, I looked like a joke. 2 My mind drifted back three years. I remembered Serena crying in front of me: “Lily, just let me have him! I loved him first! You have so many guys chasing you, why do you have to take Caleb?” I was soft-hearted by nature. High empathy, low conflict. I hated fighting, especially over a man. I had actually considered breaking up with Caleb. We hadn’t been dating long. But Caleb, usually so calm, had turned red with rage. He dragged Serena in front of me and shouted: “I don’t love you! I will never love you! I only love Lily! Stop interfering in my life!” Serena had crashed her car that night, distraught. She spent two weeks in the hospital. Ryan had called Caleb, screaming at him, but Caleb never visited her once. Back then, everyone saw me as the winner. The queen of this love triangle. And now? I felt like I was sitting on pins and needles. I wanted to leave, but when I looked at Caleb, his eyes were fixed on Serena. She had taken off her jacket, revealing a toned waist and sculpted arms. She was telling a story about her travels. “On the savannah, I watched a lion take down a gazelle. In that moment, I felt the raw power of life and death.” Amidst the gasps of admiration, Caleb spoke suddenly. “Sounds like you didn’t waste your time out there.” Serena turned to him, her smile radiant. “I didn’t.” Caleb fell silent, looking down at his drink. I felt suffocated. I excused myself to the restroom. On my way back, I passed the terrace. Caleb was there, smoking with a few of the guys. “Serena is out of our league now,” one guy said. “Caleb, be honest. You were so cold to her back then. Do you regret it? Even a little?” Caleb’s voice was flat. “Being cold was the kindest thing I could do. Look at her now. She’s successful. I didn’t hold her back. So stop talking nonsense.” “True. It’s all in the past. Besides, Lily keeps you on a tight leash now. She never goes out, but she came tonight? Ha! She’s probably terrified you’ll cheat.” The guys laughed and went back inside, leaving Caleb and Ryan alone. Ryan chuckled darkly. “You know… Serena is still a virgin. She saved herself for you.” Silence. “Shut up!” Caleb snapped. 3 When we got home, my mother-in-law was holding the baby on the sofa, her face sour. Caleb muttered something about work and went straight to his study. His mother glared at his retreating back, then turned on me. “Lily, you’re a mother now. The baby only wants you. Why do you need to go out? Didn’t you think about her needing to eat? How can you come home this late?” My sister-in-law, Ava, was lounging on the chaise, playing a mobile game. “God, Lily, that outfit is way too tight. You look like a stuffed sausage,” she drawled. Ava prided herself on being “brutally honest.” My daughter saw me and immediately started wailing, kicking her legs. “Mommy! Milk! Milk!” I rushed to pick her up and ran upstairs to nurse. As the baby drifted off to sleep, the nanny walked in with a bowl of pigeon soup. Huge chunks of white fat floated on the surface. The smell made me gag. “Take it away. I can’t drink it today.” The nanny’s face was stone. “Your mother-in-law ordered it. If you don’t drink it, I have to tell her.” I went silent. My mother-in-law insisted I breastfeed until the baby was two. To “boost supply,” she forced me to drink fatty, unseasoned soups every day. I had tried to refuse before, but she would launch into passive-aggressive tirades that gave me migraines. The headache was worse than the soup. I held my nose and chugged the greasy liquid, swallowing the chunks of meat like pills. The nanny took the empty bowl and left. That night, I woke up with stomach cramps. I reached for Caleb, but his side of the bed was empty. I looked out the window. Caleb was on the balcony, smoking. He was staring into the night sky, lost in thought. 4 Life returned to its monotonous rhythm. I spent most of my time on the second floor with the baby, avoiding my mother-in-law’s nagging and Ava’s snide comments. Caring for a child consumed every second of my day. It was repetitive and exhausting, but it was safe. It stopped me from thinking. It stopped me from changing. My only joy was watching my daughter grow. She would be two in a couple of months. One night, Caleb mentioned casually: “The gallery is hosting Serena’s photography exhibition. I might be busy for a while.” It took me a moment to process. My brain had become slow. If they were hosting the exhibition, that meant they had already met multiple times to plan it. As the gallery director, Caleb must have seen Serena at least ten times. I stayed silent for a long time. But the pressure in my chest finally burst. “Why her? You know how she feels about you. She’s been sending gifts to the house for years. Shouldn’t you avoid her?” “Enough!” Caleb barked. “Stop being ridiculous! Serena won an international award. Every gallery in the city wants her! It’s just business, Lily. Since when did you become a jealous, irrational housewife?” He looked at me with deep disappointment and coldness. I froze. I caught my reflection in the mirror. Bloated. Tired. There was a yellow stain on my pajama pants—baby poop I hadn’t had time to clean. Shame washed over me. I wanted to disappear under the covers. But I stood my ground. I didn’t argue about Serena. I asked a different question. “You promised we would move out when the baby turned two. Is that still happening?” Caleb’s brow furrowed. Impatience flashed across his face. “I don’t understand you. Why can’t you just be happy? My mom, my sister, the nanny—they all help you with the kid. What is so bad about living here?” I shook my head slowly. “The nanny only cooks. Your mom holds the baby for ten minutes when you come home. Your sister hates it when she cries.” Caleb’s voice dropped dangerously low. “Lily, are you badmouthing my family? You don’t have to work. You just feed the baby and play with her. Isn’t that every mother’s dream?” I looked at the floor. “It’s a dream,” I whispered. “But I’m not happy.” Caleb ignored me and went into the closet to change. Before we slept, he spoke into the darkness. “You know the deal with Serena. If something was going to happen between us, it would have happened years ago. You wouldn’t even be in the picture.” “And stop complaining about my family. They don’t owe you anything.” 5 After that fight, Caleb bought me diamond earrings and wired $30,000 to my parents. That was his way. Hurt me with words, heal me with money. “Lily, I know my mom can be intense. But I’m the one living with you. Just tolerate it for me, okay?” He kissed me tenderly. My mom called, overjoyed about the money. “You’re so lucky, Lily! You married a good man. Keep him happy. You were always the obedient one, not like your useless brother.” At the playground, the other moms envied me. “Husband with a great job, rich in-laws, a nanny… you’re living the dream.” I started eating uncontrollably. Sweet, salty, soft, hard—I stuffed everything into my mouth. Not because I was hungry, but because I needed to feel full. While I breastfed in my oversized pajamas, Ava sneered at me while on the phone with her boyfriend. “I’ll never be a useless trophy wife. I’m going to be an independent woman!” I didn’t want to be home. I took the baby to the mall every day just to escape. One afternoon, I saw Caleb and Serena. They were doing a promotional interview for the exhibition in the mall atrium. I stood at the back of the crowd with the stroller. On stage, they sat close, knees almost touching. Caleb looked dapper in a suit. Serena wore a black off-shoulder dress, looking like a movie star. “What is your most unforgettable memory? No lying!” the interviewer asked. Serena smiled. “When I was in a war zone, risking my life for a shot, I got a text from someone. He told me to stay safe. That text made me move locations, and I missed an airstrike by minutes.” The crowd applauded. It was Caleb’s turn. He paused, then said: “The day before my wedding.” The reporter laughed. “Cold feet? You must have a happy marriage!” Serena turned and stared at Caleb, her eyes shimmering with emotion. My eyes fell on her neck. She was wearing a dazzling diamond necklace. The center stone matched my new earrings perfectly. I couldn’t breathe. I turned the stroller around and walked away fast. Ryan stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Leaving without saying hi?” I forced a smile. “Baby needs a nap. Excuse me, Ryan.” He didn’t move. He scoffed. “Uncomfortable seeing them together? They look good, don’t they? If you go up there now—” He stopped. His face changed. “Why are you crying?” “I… just dust in my eye.” I wiped my face and hurried away. I felt a gaze burning into my back as I left. 6 That night, Caleb came home tipsy. When he tried to kiss me, I turned away and noticed a small cut on his upper lip. “What happened to your lip?” “Oh, bit it while eating.” “You bit your upper lip while eating?” I leaned back against the headboard, watching him. His face darkened. “Lily, stop overanalyzing everything. I’m exhausted. I met a lot of people today. I don’t have the energy to baby you.” “…” “Go sleep in the guest room,” I said quietly. He frowned. “What?” For two years, his mother had tried to separate us at night so the baby wouldn’t disturb his sleep. I had always refused. It was the one boundary I kept. Now, I looked at the duvet cover and said calmly: “The baby is teething and fussy. You need your rest. Sleep in the guest room.” “Fine.” He laughed coldly. “Honestly, with the way you look now, it’s a struggle for me anyway. Thanks for understanding.” The door slammed. Silence. I picked up my phone. On the screen was the brand website for the diamond necklace. In the corner, a small graphic read: Gift with Purchase: Matching Diamond Earrings. I closed the tab and opened a livestream app. “Serena’s World” was live. Serena was on camera, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy with drink. Comments: [You look happy! New romance?] Serena giggled. “Not yet. But I got what I wanted today.” [Spill the tea!] “Okay, okay! You know I’m wild. The craziest thing I ever did was offer myself to the man I loved… the night before his wedding.” [OMG!] [Did you do it?] Serena stroked her hair. “He rejected me then. He chose someone else. But today… he showed me he regrets it. He regrets it so much.” She ran a finger over her red lips. [It’s not too late! Go get him!] [But he’s married…] Serena rolled her eyes. “The woman he’s with? I used to think she was okay. Now? She’s beneath me. And don’t worry, I won’t be the ‘other woman’.” [So you’re giving up?] “Never. I don’t give up.” She narrowed her eyes, smiling like a cat. “Stealing is boring. I want him to beg. I want him to crawl to me. That’s a real woman’s power.” … I stared into the mirror at the bloated, tired woman reflected there. Outside, thunder rumbled. The first autumn rain was coming. The nanny barged in without knocking. “Lily, drink your soup.” I didn’t move. “Come on! I want to watch my show!” she snapped. I turned slowly. “I’m not drinking it.” Her eyebrows shot up. “Then I’m telling your mother-in-law!” I smiled. My voice was soft as velvet. “Go ahead, you old hag. Go tell her.” Her jaw dropped. “Oh, and next time you enter without knocking, I’ll report you to the police for stealing the old lady’s gold earrings. Your son is applying for a government job, right? A criminal record in the family would be… unfortunate.” Her eyes bulged. She stared at me for a few seconds, then scrambled out of the room. She closed the door very gently behind her.

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