Author: Momo Chan

On the day I went with Carter Davis for our pre-wedding health checkup, the nurse looked up from her clipboard and gave him a second glance. “Carter? Weren’t you just here last week?” He paused for a microsecond, then smiled warmly. “You must have me confused with someone else.” On the way back, he squeezed my hand. “We’re getting our marriage license at City Hall next month. Nervous?” “A little,” I said. The next day, I took a half-day off and went back to the clinic. I didn’t book an appointment. I just walked straight to the reception desk and asked one question. “My fiancé was here last week. What department did he visit?” The nurse looked at me, hesitating for a long time. Finally, she uttered two words: “OB-GYN.” I stood in the clinic lobby. Outside, the sky was a brilliant, mocking blue. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Carter: “Booked the wedding photoshoot for Saturday. What style do you like?” I swiped the notification away and opened the City Hall appointment portal. I clicked “Cancel”. The system flashed a prompt: “Please state your reason for cancellation.” I typed in: “The groom has already started a new family with someone else.”

“Why didn’t you reply to my texts today?” Carter’s voice came through the receiver, carrying his usual, perfectly measured tone of concern. I had been sitting on the plastic bench in the clinic lobby for forty minutes. The seat was ice-cold, and the metal armrest behind my back felt even colder. “My phone was on silent. I didn’t notice.” “Where are you? It sounds noisy.” “Just at the mall, walking around.” He let out a soft chuckle. “Buy whatever you want. I’ll transfer you the money on PayPal.” “Okay,” I said. After hanging up, I placed the phone screen-down on my lap. The lobby speakers kept announcing numbers, calling patient after patient to various departments. I listened for forty minutes. I didn’t hear the word “OB-GYN” again, but those letters were already burned into my brain. OB-GYN. I started tracing back through our relationship. Nine months ago, we met on a blind date set up by our families. Carter was eight minutes late. The moment he sat down, he ordered a hot Americano for me. He said, “I saw on your Instagram that you posted a latte with foam art. It’s ninety-six degrees today, so you probably wanted an iced coffee. But drinking iced coffee on a first date might seem too casual. So, hot Americano is the perfect compromise.” At the time, I thought he was incredibly observant. Now, I realized he wasn’t observant—he was just calculating. Three months into dating, he took me to meet his parents. His mother, Eleanor, looked at me over the dinner table not as a future daughter-in-law, but like a customer comparing two similar brands on a supermarket shelf. She said something that stayed with me: “Carter has always been independent. I don’t interfere with his choices.” The emphasis was on the word “choices”. A choice, not love. I thought I was being paranoid back then. But sitting on this hard clinic bench, I finally understood—she was telling me that I was just a choice he made, but I wasn’t necessarily the only one. My phone buzzed again. Carter sent a three-second voice message. I tapped it. He said with a warm smile, “I miss you.” Three words. His tone was as steady as if he had rehearsed it a thousand times. I locked my phone, stood up, and walked out of the clinic. I took an Uber home. The first thing I did when I got back was open the jewelry box on my nightstand. My Nana’s diamond earrings were still there. They were clip-ons because Nana always said, “Earlobes sag when you get old. Clip-ons can be taken off anytime.” I clenched the earrings in my palm. The metal clips dug into my skin, causing a dull ache. Then, I made a decision—I wouldn’t confront him yet. Not because I was hesitating, but because I needed to figure out one thing. In this relationship, who exactly was I? Was I really his fiancée, or just a prop in someone else’s story? At 7:00 PM, Carter arrived. He brought takeout and a bouquet of baby’s breath. He never showed up empty-handed. “You’re quiet today,” he said, looking at me while unpacking the food. “Toothache.” “Then don’t smile too big during the photoshoot on Saturday. I don’t want you in pain.” He transitioned seamlessly, his expression tender and his logic flawless. I kept my head down, my fork hovering over a piece of steak for half a second. “How do you always have the perfect response to everything?” “Because you don’t even have to think about the words you say. They are like pre-packaged meals. You just heat them up and serve them.” When he went to take a shower, I picked up his phone. There was no passcode. He was confident enough not to set one—not because he had no secrets, but because he was absolutely certain I would never snoop. Three chats were pinned at the top of his iMessage: me, his mom, and someone named “Audrey.” The last message from Audrey was sent at 2:00 PM today: “The checkup went well. The baby is healthy. Waiting for you.” It was accompanied by an ultrasound photo. I scrolled up. Audrey’s profile picture was a side profile of a girl with a tiny mole on her collarbone. There were too many messages, so I only scrolled through the past month. Within three minutes, I discovered three things. She called him “babe,” and he called her “my sweet Audrey.” The way they talked was completely different from how he talked to me—it was softer, more casual, more genuine. Three days ago, he had texted her: “Just wait a little longer. I’ll break it off with her right after the wedding photoshoot.” “Her.” I was that “her.” The sound of running water continued in the bathroom. I took screenshots of three key conversations, emailed them to myself, deleted the screenshots and the sent mail trail, and placed the phone back exactly where it was. By the time he came out, I was curled up on the sofa watching a home renovation show. “What do you think of this color palette? We should do our house like this.” “Looks great,” he said, smiling as he rubbed his wet hair with a towel. I smiled back.

“Why isn’t the bride smiling?” The makeup artist’s hand hovered over my cheek, her brush coated in blush. I said, “Just keep it natural, please.” In the mirror, I looked ethereal in my simple white lace gown. I had opted out of the tiara and the long train. Carter was next to me, changing into a grey suit. The collar was perfectly pressed. He walked over, wrapped his arms around my waist, rested his chin on my head, and gave the camera a warm, picture-perfect smile. The photographer smiled. “The groom is very photogenic.” Of course he was. He had practice. During the break, an assistant casually mentioned while packing up a light stand, “Mr. Davis, do you want to try the same lighting style from your last shoot? I still have the angles saved.” Carter’s face went stiff for a split second. Just a split second. Then he laughed it off. “You must have me confused with someone else. This is my first time here.” The assistant looked confused but was quickly pulled away by the photographer. Carter turned to me, his expression as natural as if nothing had happened. “Tired? Want some water?” “I’m fine,” I replied. When he went to change into his next suit, I found the assistant. “What kind of photos did he take here last time?” The assistant hesitated for two seconds. “Maternity photos… I think it was for his sister? He said she was his sister. The girl had a pretty big bump already.” “Thank you,” I said, walking back to the shooting area. Carter was already changed. He was wearing the same grey suit—I recognized it now. He was wearing this exact suit in the ultrasound photo. Same brand, probably the exact same one. “Come on, last set,” he said, reaching his hand out to me. I walked over and stood by his side. The shutter clicked forty times. Every single time, his smile was mathematically precise. On the drive home, Carter kept his right hand resting on my knee. The car stereo was playing a slow R&B track from my playlist. He said, “This is a good song. Who recommended it?” “I found it myself.” “Ah.” I noticed his fingers tapping on my knee three times, but the rhythm was faster than the song playing. I recognized that beat from Audrey’s chat logs—he had sent her a song once, and the intro had that exact tempo. The music playing in his head wasn’t the one coming from my car speakers. That night, I washed off my makeup in the bathroom. In the mirror, my eyes looked a bit sunken, my cheekbones more prominent. In nine months of living in a fake relationship, I had lost six pounds. My phone buzzed. Carter had posted a grid of nine wedding photos on Instagram. His caption read: “She said yes, and that’s all that matters.” The comment section exploded. Colleagues, friends, and distant relatives were all leaving congratulations. His mother liked the post and commented: “Finally.” I finally understood what those seven letters meant. She wasn’t waiting for me. She was waiting for someone who could play the part of the perfect wife so her son could fulfill his duty. I put down my phone and opened Carter’s old iPad. I had found it three days ago in a toolbox in his trunk. His secondary iMessage account was logged in, and he had only one contact: Audrey. Their Snapchat was filled with their daily life. Cooking together, shopping at local farmers’ markets, eating bagels outside the clinic after her prenatal checkup, and a candid photo of her sleeping on his shoulder. The latest post was from yesterday. The same day as our wedding photoshoot. After we finished shooting in the afternoon, he had gone to Audrey’s place in the evening. He had posted a picture of her hand resting on her pregnant belly. The caption was: “Waiting for you. These words are enough to get me through a lifetime.” I closed the iPad. I didn’t take any screenshots. I didn’t need any more evidence. What I needed was the right moment.

“Working late tonight, won’t make it over.” Carter’s iMessage voice memo was short. The background noise sounded like an office. I replied with a simple, “Okay.” Then, I did something I had never done before—I followed him. His car pulled out of his office garage, but he didn’t head toward his usual route. He turned left and stopped in front of a quiet, older apartment complex in the suburbs. I parked across the street and turned off the ignition. A warm yellow light was on on the third floor. The curtains had a floral pattern, and a potted ivy sat on the windowsill. He carried two grocery bags upstairs. His steps were light. When he reached the door, he didn’t knock; he used his own key to open it. That door didn’t require any ceremony for him because that was his real home. I stood downstairs for twenty minutes. The window on the third floor cast two silhouettes—one stirring something at the stove, the other sitting by the table with a hand on her belly. The one at the stove brought over a plate, sat down, and turned to say something. Both shadows were laughing. It wasn’t the secretive, tense laughter of an affair. It was just cooking, eating, talking, and laughing. A complete, mundane family routine. I was the outsider. When I walked down, I passed the mailboxes on the ground floor. The label for Unit 301 had two names written side-by-side in the same handwriting: “Carter Davis & Audrey Pearson.” In this apartment complex, they were an open couple. Only in front of me did this reality cease to exist. Back at my apartment, I took out the cherries Carter had brought over last week from the fridge. I washed a few and took a bite. They were sweet. I ate another one, still sweet. But I didn’t want to eat them anymore. Because in Audrey’s chat logs, she had written: “Babe brought home so many cherries today, we can’t even finish them.” He had bought two batches from the same store. I threw the rest of the cherries into the trash. I opened my laptop and created a new Excel sheet. On the left column, I wrote “Me & Carter.” On the right column, “Carter & Audrey.” I charted the dates precisely. For nine months, the two timelines ran in perfect parallel. Not a single day was missed. One date was highlighted in red: four months ago. My birthday. Carter had given me a necklace, took me out for sushi, and posted a picture of us smiling on Instagram. But on that very day, Audrey’s log showed he had accompanied her to her first major ultrasound at 3:00 PM. On my birthday, he went to see his unborn child first before coming over to blow out my candles. I recalled him being forty minutes late that night. When he walked in, his scarf smelled faintly of disinfectant. I had asked him about it, and he said he had stopped by a pharmacy to grab some cold medicine for a colleague. And I had believed him. Every time I trusted him, I was just signing off on my own stupidity. I scrolled to another date from two months ago. He had told me he was going on a three-day business trip. He sent me a selfie from a hotel room, writing, “Miss you, sleep tight.” But Audrey’s records showed he was in another state during those three days, meeting her parents. Audrey had posted a group photo. Carter was sitting at a round dining table, and the middle-aged couple opposite him were beaming. Her caption was: “Mom and Dad finally met you. Mom says you’re even handsomer in person.” He had met the parents on both sides. Both lines were moving forward. I closed my laptop, picked up my phone, and texted him: “The photos from Saturday are ready. Which ones do you want to select for the final edits?” Carter replied instantly: “You choose. I trust your taste.” He always knew the right thing to say. Always. I selected a photo of the two of us facing away from the camera—our faces completely obscured. I sent that one to the studio for final editing.

“Chloe, there’s something I want to talk to you about.” On Friday night, Carter came out of the shower, his wet hair messy as he sat on the sofa. He spoke slower than usual, as if he were carefully rehearsing every word. I set down my mug. He said, “I have a childhood friend named Audrey. She’s in a bit of a mess recently—she got pregnant, but the guy walked out on her. She’s all alone now with nowhere to stay. I was thinking of letting her crash at my old studio apartment for a while, the small one near my office.” He looked at me, his eyes clear, honest, and filled with a gentle plea. “Don’t worry, there’s nothing going on between us. I’m just trying to be a good friend.” If I didn’t know the truth, I would have said, “Of course, go ahead and help her.” I almost did. Instead, I smiled. “Sure, go ahead. Is there anything I can do to help?” He visibly relaxed and chuckled, reaching out to ruffle my hair. “No need. Just don’t overthink it, okay?” On Sunday, I “casually” suggested going over to his studio apartment to help clean up. “Since your friend is moving in, after all.” He hesitated for a second. “No need, I already cleaned it.” “You’re a guy, you probably missed some spots. Let me help you wipe down the windows.” He couldn’t find a way to refuse, so he agreed. When we got to the studio apartment, he had arrived thirty minutes ahead of me. The moment I walked in, I smelled three distinct scents: air freshener, laundry detergent, and a very faint trace of baby powder. The first two were meant to cover up the third. But the third had leaked through. I helped him wipe down the windows in the living room. As I bent down, my fingers brushed against the gap between the radiator and the wall. My fingertips touched something hard. I pulled it out. It was a diamond clip-on earring. I froze for three seconds. Last Wednesday, Carter had come over to my place. Before leaving, he said, “I put your jewelry box back in the cabinet. I accidentally knocked it over earlier.” I had checked it then—both earrings were there. But I had only glanced at them; I didn’t count them. I pulled out my phone and checked a photo of my jewelry box. Only one earring remained. He had stolen my Nana’s earring. I clutched the earring and walked into the bedroom. Carter was folding clothes. Seeing the expression on my face, he asked, “What’s wrong?” I opened my hand. The earring lay in the center of my palm, the diamond catching the light. “Care to explain this?” His expression went through three distinct phases: blankness, calculation, and then a practiced smile. “Oh, that? Audrey saw you wearing them once and thought they were beautiful. I told her I’d help her find a similar pair, so I borrowed one to show her the design. I meant to tell you, but it slipped my mind.” “Where is the other one then? Get it back for me.” “It’s with her. I’ll get it tomorrow.” “Now.” He was caught off guard. “She’s not home today—” “Not home? I thought you said she hadn’t moved in yet.” He pressed his lips together, remaining silent for two seconds. “…I meant she hasn’t fully moved in. She just brought some of her things over first.” I didn’t press further. I walked out to the balcony and pulled back the drying sheets hanging on the rack—there were indentations of two pillows, one large and one small. I opened the washing machine. Inside was a men’s t-shirt and a maternity dress, tangled together. Carter stood at the balcony door, his composure finally crumbling. “Chloe, listen to me.” I didn’t listen. I walked to the front door and started putting on my shoes. He rushed over and grabbed my wrist. I turned to look at him. “Carter, do you have any idea how much those earrings mean to me?” He opened his mouth. But no words came out. He had taken my most precious possession, and yet he didn’t feel a shred of guilt. I wrenched my wrist free and pulled open the door. The hallway lights were motion-activated. My footsteps turned on the bulbs one by one—illuminating each flight of stairs, then fading to black behind me. His voice echoed from above, growing more distant: “Chloe, it’s not what you think—Chloe—” I reached the lobby. A taxi pulled up in front of the building, and a woman stepped out of the back seat. She had a round pregnant belly, a floral dress, a pale face, and dry lips. She was holding a bag of fruit and a bag of baby clothes. She saw me and froze. “Are you… Chloe?” I didn’t move. She looked down at her own left hand—a ring was on her ring finger. It was an antique diamond ring set in silver. I recognized that diamond. It was part of the set that went with Nana’s earrings. The earrings were passed down to me, and the ring was given to my mom. My mom told me last year that she had lost the ring. Audrey’s voice was barely a whisper. “This… Carter gave this to me. He said it was an old family heirloom.” The two of us stood under the dim streetlights of the apartment complex, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity. She was the first to cry. It wasn’t the dramatic cry of a villain—it was the quiet, shoulder-shaking sob of a woman six months pregnant who had suddenly realized the truth. Her lips turned white as she bit down on them. I didn’t cry. I walked over, pulled the earring from my pocket, and placed it on the concrete pillar next to the streetlamp, right beside her ring. “He told you this was a family heirloom?” “It belonged to my Nana. She passed away last year.” Carter ran down from the stairs. The moment he saw the two of us standing together—he stopped dead in his tracks. His mask of perfect expressions shattered completely for the first time.

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Three years of marriage, and my seemingly celibate husband had never touched me. Then, out of nowhere, he sent me a text: “Wanna do it?” I quickly changed into a sheer silk nightgown and rushed into his room. For a whole week, we used no protection. I thought I had finally touched his heart. Clutching my positive pregnancy test, I went to his office to share the good news. But outside the conference room, I heard him laughing with his sister-in-law, Evelyn, and some foreign investors. “You’re too much, Austin. I was just curious if mixed-race babies would look cuter, so you actually invited them over? If Chloe finds out you drugged her and she’s pregnant with a mixed baby, won’t she lose her mind?” My husband, Austin Sterling, replied in his signature cold tone, “She won’t. She’s thrilled just knowing she’s pregnant.” Marcus, a white investor, grinned wickedly. “Sterling, you’re a real man. Letting us have a taste of your wife first? Respect! So generous!” Another investor, Damon, laughed. “How about a bet on the baby’s skin color? I bet black. If I lose, I’ll buy Evelyn a Lamborghini!” Evelyn watched them banter with a smile, throwing a smug glance toward the door… ……

I stumbled backward. My body slammed into the decorative vase by the door. With a loud “shatter”, the vase smashed to pieces. The laughter inside came to a screeching halt. The door was ripped open. Austin, Evelyn, and those two foreign investors—five people, ten eyes—all stared straight at me. The remnants of their twisted smiles were still plastered on their faces. Austin’s expression instantly turned incredibly dark. Looking at them, my mind flashed back to that week. The first time he walked into my room, smelling faintly of cologne. The first time he kissed me, clumsy yet gentle. The first time we made love, his sweat dripping onto my eyelids. I thought that was the turning point of our three-year marriage. I thought my devotion had finally won him over. Now, those memories replayed in my mind like a horror movie, leaving behind nothing but the sickening realization of being set up and defiled. Every single frame made me want to throw up. “Chloe, what are you doing here?” Austin spoke, his voice carrying a rare, barely noticeable hint of panic. I didn’t answer. I looked at him, and then at Evelyn behind him. Evelyn’s lips curled into a smirk, enjoying the show. I turned around and ran toward the elevator as if my life depended on it. I could feel their eyes burning holes into my back. The air in the entire office building felt thick with humiliation. I just wanted to escape. I frantically mashed the elevator button to close the doors. At the very last second before they shut, I saw Austin chasing after me, his face as dark as a storm cloud. I collapsed inside the elevator, gasping for air. The pregnancy report slipped from my weak fingers, fluttering down onto the cold floor.

I ran back home. I locked myself in the bathroom, washing my body over and over again. I turned the hot water to the maximum, burning my skin bright red. But I couldn’t feel the pain. The sheer humiliation of being violated was etched into my bones. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I couldn’t wash it away. I loathed myself. I don’t know how much time passed before someone knocked on the door. Austin was back. His voice came through the door, flat and emotionless. “Where did you go?” “Did you get the pregnancy report?” I didn’t answer. I shut off the shower. When I walked out, he was standing right at the door. He reached out, wanting to touch my stomach. I flinched as if I’d been stung and threw myself backward. His hand froze in midair, and his eyes instantly grew cold. But quickly, he returned to his usual calm, indifferent self. “Stop throwing tantrums.” “Tomorrow, I’ll take you to the best private clinic for a full checkup.” His tone was patronizing, like he was soothing a petulant dog. Staring at his hypocritical face, I found it incredibly funny. I asked him coldly, “Austin, do you really want a baby?” He froze for a second. Then, a gentle smile appeared on his face—a smile I had never seen before. “Of course.” “Our baby will be brilliant.” Watching him act made my stomach churn. His gentleness was never meant for me. It was for that sick, twisted bet he made with Evelyn and those investors. He didn’t care about the baby. He only cared about the outcome of the bet. He wanted to see what color the baby would be. I let out a cold laugh in my head and didn’t say another word. The next day, he took me to the most expensive private clinic in the city. In the VIP waiting room, I saw the last people I wanted to see. Evelyn and those two foreign investors were already waiting there. They looked like they were the baby’s actual family. And I was just a surrogate container holding their prize. Seeing me, Evelyn immediately walked over and grabbed my arm affectionately. “Chloe, you’re finally here. Austin was so worried about you, he insisted we all come to keep you company.” The two investors stood up as well. Without any shame, they stared at my belly with slimy, calculating eyes, assessing me over and over. They were looking at me like a lottery ticket about to be drawn. Feeling utterly disgusted, I shook off Evelyn’s hand. She didn’t get angry. She just covered her mouth and giggled, her eyes filled with triumph. Soon, the nurse called my name. After a series of tests, the doctor held the report and smiled at us. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Sterling. Mrs. Sterling is indeed pregnant, and the fetus is very healthy.” The moment those words left his mouth, I clearly saw a greedy, excited light flash in the eyes of the two investors. They exchanged a look, silently celebrating. My heart sank into a bottomless abyss. For me, this was the beginning of a nightmare. For them, the game had officially begun. I sat in the chair, my entire body frozen cold. Despair washed over me like a tidal wave, drowning me completely.

Before the doctor could even finish, Austin spoke up impatiently. He said, “I heard we can do amniocentesis for precise genetic screening right now. Arrange it.” His tone was calm, but it was an absolute command. The doctor immediately objected. “Mr. Sterling, the gestational age is far too early. Amniocentesis right now carries an extremely high risk.” “It could cause severe harm to both the mother and the fetus. I highly advise against it.” Austin interrupted him, his eyes icy. “I’ll pay double.” “I’ll sign the waiver.” “Just do it.” His words were ruthless and cold, devoid of any warmth. Intimidated by his authority, the doctor didn’t dare say more and went to prepare for the procedure. I let out a bitter laugh, staring at Austin, and finally spoke. My voice was dry and raspy. “Why are you in such a rush?” He looked at me blankly, as if I were a stranger. “Evelyn is weak. She gets anxious when things are left uncertain.” “Let’s get this over with so she can have peace of mind.” What a ridiculously absurd excuse. At that moment, my heart was completely crushed by his own hands. It turned out that in his mind, the immense pain and risk I was about to endure didn’t even compare to Evelyn’s slight “anxiety.” The nurse wheeled me into the operating room. To my horror, those two investors actually followed us right to the door. They stood outside, discussing loudly in English. “I bet it’s black!” “No way, Austin’s genes are dominant. It’s got to be Asian!” Their shameless conversation drew stares from everyone in the hallway. Those scanning, judging, and curious eyes stabbed me like needles. This was a public humiliation. I lay on the cold operating table. As the long needle pierced through my abdomen, a sharp pain shot through my body. But that pain was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. I bit my lip hard, refusing to make a sound. Yet, tears streamed uncontrollably down my face, dampening my hair. “My baby, I’m so sorry.” “Mommy couldn’t protect you.” When the procedure was over, the nurse wheeled me out. I was completely drained, my face paper-white. At the door, I immediately saw Austin. And Evelyn was right beside him. The moment Evelyn saw me, she clutched her head, leaning weakly against Austin. She frowned, her voice trembling. “Austin, I feel so dizzy. I think I’m running out of oxygen.” Austin immediately scooped her up in his arms, his face filled with panic and care—a look he had never directed at me. He didn’t even cast a single glance in my direction. Holding Evelyn, he turned to leave. As he passed by my gurney, he stopped for a fraction of a second and snapped at me coldly. “Take a cab back yourself.” “Don’t embarrass me here!” With that, he walked away with the woman he loved, never looking back. I was left all alone in the crowded hallway. Like a piece of discarded trash. My husband forced me into a high-risk procedure for a sickening bet. And then, to comfort his beloved sister-in-law, he abandoned his weak wife at the hospital. Betrayal could really be this absolute. At that exact moment, my heart died completely.

I leaned against the wall, taking one agonizing step at a time to get out. People around me whispered and pointed. Words like “slattern” and “she got what she deserved” drifted clearly into my ears. I was numb. I felt nothing. I walked out of the hospital alone, standing helplessly by the curb. Eventually, I called a cab and went back to the empty mansion. Before I could even catch my breath, the doorbell rang violently. I looked through the peephole. It was Evelyn. I didn’t want to open it, but she kept pressing the bell relentlessly. Finally, I opened the door. She was wearing Austin’s jacket, strolling inside as if she were the mistress of the house. She deliberately adjusted her collar, revealing several dark hickeys on her neck. That jacket was one I had just bought for Austin a few days ago. She was marking her territory. She smirked contemptuously, looking me up and down. “Chloe, you didn’t actually think Austin loved you, did you?” “He only has eyes for me.” “Three years ago, if my family hadn’t gone bankrupt and needed cash, do you think you’d ever have married him?” “He thinks you’re too dirty to touch. That’s why he let outsiders have you.” Her words were like poison-tipped daggers, stabbing straight into my heart. She stepped closer, leaning in to whisper in my ear. “You know what? Austin recorded everything.” “He filmed that entire week.” “If you don’t behave, I’ll send the video to all the board members. I’ll make sure you’re famous.” I trembled violently, staring at her in disbelief. Pure terror gripped my heart. Seeing my fear, she looked incredibly satisfied. But then, her eyes drifted to my flat stomach, flashing with jealousy and madness. “But this stomach of yours… is really eyesore.” “If I can’t have his baby, you sure as hell won’t either!” She grabbed my wrist with terrifying strength. Before I could react, she pushed me hard toward the basement stairs. Caught off guard, I screamed as I tumbled down the steep staircase. A ripping pain exploded in my abdomen. Lying on the cold concrete floor, I felt warm liquid gushing out from between my legs. It was blood. “My baby.” Just then, the front door opened. Austin walked in, witnessing the scene. I lay in a pool of blood, while Evelyn stood at the top of the stairs, looking panicked. I reached out my hand toward him, begging for help. But Evelyn was faster. She immediately pointed at me, crying out, “Austin! It’s not my fault! She tripped and fell! She’s trying to frame me!” Austin rushed down. He stepped right over me—bleeding on the floor—and ran straight to Evelyn. He didn’t look at me once. Then, he turned around and walked over to me. “Slap!” A stinging slap landed squarely on my face. My head whipped to the side, my ears ringing violently. He glared down at me, roaring, “Chloe! Have you had enough of your drama?!” I stared at his furious face, and at Evelyn standing behind him, giving me a malicious smirk. I laughed. Blood and tears mixed together, tasting bitter in my mouth. My consciousness began to fade. Right before I blacked out completely, a memory surfaced. I remembered the day I got married. My parents had handed me a key to a private deposit box. They told me, “Chloe, this is your way out. If there comes a day when you feel like you have nowhere left to go, open this.” That was my last shot.

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I spent millions of my own money building a free, state-of-the-art daycare for my employees. But a fresh graduate on our management track, Chloe Miller, reported me for it. She cried on TikTok, claiming the company’s perks were a form of “maternity gaslighting” that discriminated against child-free employees. But nobody knew that this daycare was funded entirely out of my own pocket. I hired the best early-childhood educators in the state. The meals were 100% organic. From tuition to meals, everything was completely free. All I wanted was to give the working moms in my company—who, like me, had to balance career and family—a chance to breathe. Once the video went viral, the entire internet began attacking my company culture, calling me heartless. I didn’t bother explaining. I just issued a company-wide memo. “To ensure absolute equality, the on-site daycare will close immediately. In its place, a universal monthly child-care stipend of $50 will be distributed to all employees.” The moment the notification went out, the parents went wild. They rushed into my office holding their kids, begging me to give them a lifeline. ……

Our free daycare had only been open for a month when an employee dragged it onto social media. [My boss is using a daycare to gaslight me into having babies. No thanks!] The thumbnail featured Chloe Miller, our newest Management Associate, with tears streaming down her face. Looking at the thumbnail, my heart sank. The video started with a clip of my speech at the grand opening. I remembered that day clearly. The sun was shining, and the kids had the brightest, most innocent smiles. Looking at the parents behind them, their faces full of gratitude, I got emotional. To show my support, I said from the bottom of my heart: “I’ve always viewed this company as a family. This daycare is my gift to all our ‘family members’!” The video editor had captured that exact sentence, drawing a thick red circle around the words “family members.” [Boss-certified: Single dogs don’t deserve to be ‘family members.’] The screen cut back to Chloe, her voice cracking in front of the camera. “Did you hear that?” “Our company offers a free daycare, but only for employees with kids.” “Sounds amazing, right?” “But is that fair to those of us who choose to be child-free?” “So in our boss’s eyes, only those who breed are worthy of being called ‘family’ and receiving ‘gifts’?” “What about us single people? Are we just corporate outcasts?” “We work our asses off. Why should our hard-earned labor fund other people’s kids?” “This is literally reproductive coercion.” “And if you don’t agree with it, you’re labeled as ‘not a team player’ or ‘ungrateful.’” “I literally cannot breathe in this toxic environment.” The comment section blew up. “What kind of messed-up company is this? Name and shame, sis! We’ll cancel them!” “Reproductive coercion and workplace discrimination! Someone report them to the Department of Labor!” “I feel so bad for the creator. Is breathing while single a crime now?” Anger flared in my chest, making it hard to breathe. Nobody knew that this daycare was funded entirely by my private trust. I had hired the best educational team in the state, and the food standards were premium organic. Tuition, meals, everything—free. It was meant to give working mothers, who struggled just like I did, a moment of peace. My assistant panicked as she pushed the door open. “Eleanor, the PR department’s phones are ringing off the hook!” Before I could reply, my office door was thrown open. Chloe walked in holding a Starbucks cup, her face showing no trace of the tears from her video. “Eleanor, I assume you saw the video?” She sat down on the sofa opposite me without waiting to be asked. “It’s nothing personal. I just think this whole setup is unfair.” “My generation cares about self-prioritization and personal wellness.” “The company shouldn’t turn benefits into a moral guilt trip.” Looking at her young, fearless face, my throat tightened. “Company perks are incentives for those who contribute, Chloe. They aren’t welfare to be distributed equally.”

Chloe rolled her eyes and pulled a document from her designer bag, tossing it onto my desk. “Fine. Let’s lay all the cards on the table.” “This is a petition signed by every unmarried, child-free employee in our department.” “Our demands are simple.” “Either calculate the operating cost of the daycare and pay it out to us as a cash bonus,” “Or shut down this ‘privileged’ institution that only serves a select few.” I picked up the petition. I saw several familiar names. I even saw the name of our lead engineer, who just last week had thanked me profusely with tears in her eyes when her child was enrolled. Near the end of the day, I saw Brenda Higgins, a notorious corporate parasite, leaning over Chloe’s desk. Brenda was in her late forties and excelled at nothing except starting drama. “Chloe, you are literally our hero! You said what we were all thinking!” Chloe smirked proudly. “Of course. Don’t worry, Brenda. I’m going to fight this to the end for all of us.” Brenda lowered her voice, darting a glance toward my office. “Keep making noise. If the sky falls, us senior staff have your back.” “I know Eleanor. She folds if you play the victim, but she pushes back if you’re aggressive. The more noise you make, the weaker she gets.” Watching them play off each other made me sick. As the company grew, it had accumulated a lot of dead weight. I had wanted to introduce a new performance-based point system to tie benefits to actual contributions and break this culture of entitlement. But every time I brought it up, senior managers like Brenda and Arthur Ward would push back, claiming it would “harm team stability.” Now I realized they weren’t afraid of instability. They were just afraid I’d touch their free ride. That night, as soon as I got home, a new notification popped up on my phone. This time, Chloe had exposed our company name and posted my photo. [Exposing the toxic female CEO who uses a ‘free daycare’ to discriminate!] In the video, she sobbed again, claiming I was bullying her at work because she stood up for “equality.” “She called me into her office today and threatened to fire me before my probation ended if I didn’t delete the video!” “She even said single people are ‘liabilities’ to the company!” What chilled me to the bone, though, was a screenshot of the daycare’s internal budget sheet shown in the video. Even though the critical numbers were blurred, that specific spreadsheet format was something only two people had access to. Me, and Arthur Ward, our COO. Arthur had been with me for five years. He was always incredibly respectful, constantly calling me “a visionary leader.” I treated him as my right hand, and he was stabbing me in the back? Suddenly, things clicked. How did Chloe, a fresh graduate, get the courage and resources to pull this off? Her talk of “self-wellness” and “fairness” was just a shield. The real puppeteer was Arthur! He must have been unhappy with me pouring funds into a “non-profitable” daycare for a long time. Or perhaps, he wanted my job.

He was using Chloe’s “idealism” and Brenda’s “loud mouth.” One in the light, one in the dark, using public outrage to overthrow me, the founder. No wonder a lazy veteran like Brenda dared to make a scene—Arthur was backing them. Everything made sense now. I had noticed some discrepancies in Arthur’s administrative expenses recently, but I hadn’t pushed it out of respect for our history. This daycare’s expenses were audited directly by me. Every penny was transparent, completely cutting off Arthur’s ability to skim money from administrative procurement. This had threatened his pockets. He wasn’t mad that I invested in a non-profitable project. He was terrified that I was auditing things too closely and would uncover his dirty laundry! Chloe’s “idealism” and Brenda’s “gossip” were just tools he used to muddy the waters, hoping to get me fired to bury his own crimes. The comment section this time was even more unhinged. “Evil capitalist! I hope your company goes bankrupt tomorrow!” “How has this toxic company not been shut down yet?” The next morning, reporters and local news vans were parked outside our office building. The moment I stepped inside, a heavy, suffocating silence fell over the room. Everyone kept their heads down, pretending to work, but secretly watching me out of the corners of their eyes. Chloe and Brenda were surrounded by a group of younger colleagues. When Brenda saw me, she walked over with a fake, sympathetic smile. “Eleanor, please don’t be mad. Chloe’s methods were a bit extreme, but she is speaking for the people.” “Why don’t you just give everyone what they want to settle this?” Chloe crossed her arms, a triumphant smirk plastered on her face. “See this, Eleanor? The whole internet is watching.” “If you don’t find a way to make us happy, I can’t promise we won’t hit number one on trending tomorrow.” I ignored them both and walked straight into my office. I thought, surely, the parents who used the daycare would stand up and speak the truth. But I was disappointed. All they did was post a lukewarm “Everyone calm down” in the company Slack channel, and then they went completely silent. They were terrified of being dragged into the online firestorm and labeled as “privileged.” They were even afraid of offending Chloe’s vocal mob. My kindness had become a joke. I let out a self-deprecating laugh. I picked up my phone and dialed my assistant. “Announce a company-wide meeting in the main conference room at 3:00 PM.” My assistant hesitated. “Eleanor… are we… giving in?” “No. It’s time to give them the ‘fairness’ they’re begging for.” “I want to see how long they can hold onto their own bowls once they smash someone else’s.” Chloe and Brenda were just clowns. I wanted to drag the wolf hiding behind them out into the light. If you don’t pop the blister, the infection never clears.

By 3:00 PM, the main conference room was packed. The employees looked excited. The atmosphere felt less like a crisis meeting and more like an annual bonus announcement. Chloe and Brenda sat in the front row, surrounded by their supporters. Brenda was loud, bragging to anyone who would listen: “I told you, Eleanor is a paper tiger.” “As long as we stand united and make enough noise, she has to compromise!” Chloe was even streaming live on her phone under the table. [Live! Witnessing a Gen-Z associate take down a greedy capitalist for true equality!] I walked in right on time. Every eye in the room locked onto me, waiting for the show. I turned on the projector. The screen lit up with photos of the daycare kids smiling. They were playing in bright, spacious classrooms and eating nutritious lunches in a clean cafeteria. In the audience, the parents couldn’t help but smile. But Chloe’s group let out quiet, mocking scoffs. I ignored them and skipped to the last slide. It showed the qualifications and degrees of our daycare teachers. Every single one of them was an Ivy League graduate specializing in early childhood education. I picked up the microphone, my voice echoing clearly through the room. “This daycare, from planning to opening, cost twelve million dollars.” “All equipment meets the highest safety standards.” “Every teacher was recruited from the best private academies in the city, lured here with triple their usual salary.” “The organic food the children eat daily is sourced from a premium farm three hundred miles away.” “The total monthly cost per child is twenty-three thousand dollars.” “And yet, I have never charged a single employee a single penny for this.” Silence fell over the room. You could have heard a pin drop. The employees who had been snickering froze. Even Chloe’s live stream chat went quiet for a few seconds. I saw Maya Jenkins, our lead engineer and a single mom, look down as her eyes welled with tears. Just last week, she had sat in my office crying, telling me how relieved she was that she could finally focus on her work. Now, she sat in the crowd, her head buried low. I scanned the shocked, uneasy faces in the room. “I thought that by taking away your biggest worry, you could focus on your work with peace of mind.” “I thought kindness would be met with kindness.” “But I was wrong.” My gaze landed directly on Chloe’s face. “I was wrong because I overestimated the decency of some, and underestimated the greed of others.” Chloe looked uncomfortable under my gaze, but she quickly lifted her chin and snapped back. “What does any of this matter? It’s still unfair!” “Do those of us without kids deserve to be ignored?” “You’re just using your wealth to flex your privilege and hold us hostage!” Her words rippled through the crowd, sparking murmurs of agreement.

Brenda, whose kids were already in college and couldn’t benefit from the daycare anyway, stood up to support Chloe. “Exactly! Eleanor, we aren’t ungrateful, we just want equality!” “Why do they get over twenty thousand dollars in benefits while we get nothing?” “If you’re sincere about fairness, pay that twenty thousand directly to us in cash!” “Yes! Cash! Give us the money!” The crowd grew restless. Greed quickly swallowed any lingering guilt. Their masks were completely off. Looking at their ugly, demanding faces, I nodded. “Fine.” “I’ll give you what you want.” “I will give you your ‘fairness’.” The room erupted into cheers. On Chloe’s live stream, the chat was flooded with “We won!” I waited for the cheers to die down before continuing. “To return absolute choice and fairness to everyone,” “After careful consideration, I have made a decision.” Everyone held their breath, staring at me with greedy expectation. “Effective immediately, the on-site daycare is permanently closed.” The parents in the room gasped, instantly whispering in panic. On the other side, Chloe’s group was barely holding back cheers and high-fives. I ignored them and announced the second decision. “To compensate all employees, the company will transition to a universal stipend.” “Every employee will receive a monthly stipend of fifty dollars.” The room went dead silent again. Chloe’s phone slipped from her hand and clattered onto the carpet. The sheer drop from twenty thousand to fifty dollars left everyone stunned. A few seconds later, Chloe was the first to shriek. “Fifty dollars? Eleanor! Are you kidding us?” “You just said it costs twenty-three thousand per child! Why do we only get fifty?” “You liar! You greedy capitalist!” I looked at her coldly. “The daycare’s investment and operating costs came from my personal trust, not corporate funds.” “My willingness to spend my personal wealth on my employees was my choice, not my obligation.” “You chose to destroy that goodwill.” “So, I am withdrawing my personal funds.” “As for the fifty dollars, that is the maximum ‘fair’ stipend our corporate budget can afford for everyone under our current financial framework.” “This is the equality you fought so hard for, even at the cost of the company’s reputation.” “Now, everyone is perfectly equal.” The blood drained from everyone’s faces. The single employees who had been celebrating looked horrified. For a non-existent “cash bonus,” they had just destroyed a world-class benefit they might have used in the future. And all they got was fifty measly dollars a month. Meanwhile, the parents completely broke down. Maya sobbed loudly and rushed to the stage, grabbing my arm. “Eleanor, I’m sorry! We were wrong!” “Please don’t close the daycare! My child has nowhere else to go!” “The local daycares are either ridiculously expensive or completely unsafe!” “We were wrong, please!” Dozens of parents rushed forward, crying and begging. The room fell into absolute chaos. Brenda’s face turned white. She tried to slip out the back door, but several angry parents blocked her path. “Brenda! This is all your fault! You and Chloe ruined this for everyone!” Brenda stumbled backward. “Why are you blaming me? I did this for equality!” Chloe was terrified, hiding behind a chair and trembling. She never expected that the colleagues who had praised her as a hero yesterday would look at her with such pure hatred today. Watching this farce play out, I felt nothing but exhaustion. I pulled myself away from the crowd and turned to face them one last time. “The decision is final.” “As of tomorrow, the daycare is closed. All teachers and staff are dismissed with severance.” “Good luck to you all.”

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I ended up throwing up three rounds in the bathroom outside the VIP lounge. All because I had spent the night taking shots for my husband at a high-stakes investor dinner. Weak and leaning against the cold tile wall, I pulled out my phone and texted him, asking him to grab the stomach medicine from my clutch. Two minutes later, his reply popped up on Snapchat. “I just got a hand treatment. Do you not have legs of your own?” But when I finally dragged myself back to the hallway, I saw Ethan Carter rushing past, carefully carrying Chloe Bennet in his arms. I stood frozen in the hallway for a long moment. Then, I dialed my lawyer’s number. “Draft the divorce papers.” Ethan didn’t come home until the following afternoon. When he walked through the door, he instinctively reached for the coat rack. Usually, his freshly pressed loungewear would be hanging there, waiting for him. Today, it was empty. He frowned. “You didn’t come home last night?” “I went to my lawyer’s office.” I pulled a document out of my briefcase. “Sign this.” Ethan didn’t even look at it. He flipped straight to the last page and scribbled his signature. Ten years of marriage, seven years of running a business together. He was so used to me handling every piece of paperwork that he didn’t even bother to read what it was. I took the papers and turned to leave, but he stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Don’t get the wrong idea. Chloe had acute gastroenteritis last night. I had to rush her to the ER.” He paused, his voice stiffening. “Nothing happened between us.” This was the first time in seven years he had ever bothered to explain himself to me. Too bad he forgot what he had said to me three years ago when I was the one rushed to the ER with acute gastroenteritis. He had snapped, “Clara, is your assistant just for ornament? I have an international conference tonight.” Suddenly, his phone buzzed. Chloe’s tearful voice echoed through the speaker. “Ethan… am I totally useless? I’ve only been at the company for a month and I’ve already taken two sick days… Are you going to fire me?” “Don’t talk nonsense,” Ethan said, his voice instantly softening. “Being sick isn’t your fault.” He shot a cold glance at me, his tone dropping to sub-zero temperatures. “Some people force their employees to work around the clock just to hit their targets. That’s why people get sick.” “Be good and rest at home. I’m coming over to check on you.” He hung up and grabbed his car keys. As he brushed past me, he glanced at my pale face and the folder in my hand. He said nothing, slamming the door behind him. I looked down, opened an email on my phone that had been sitting in my inbox for three months. I tapped reply: “I accept the offer. I can start next week.” While I was reviewing the equity agreement from my new company, a Snapchat notification popped up. It was a voice note from Chloe, sweet and dripping with fake innocence. “Clara, I’m so sorry. Ethan insisted on coming over to take care of me. I hope I didn’t ruin his board meeting this afternoon… Please don’t be mad at him…” I didn’t bother playing the second voice note. My eyes locked onto her new profile picture. I zoomed in. It was a photo of a man’s hand gently holding a thermometer against Chloe’s forehead. On that wrist was the limited-edition watch I had gifted Ethan for his birthday last year. He really did care about her. I closed the picture, went to my own profile, and changed our wedding photo to a blank white screen. On the day of the new product launch, as the head of the project, I had to be there. After the presentation, I walked over to the media photo-op area, only to find Ethan already standing dead center, his arm wrapped around Chloe’s waist. The reporters’ cameras flashed rapidly. “Mr. and Mrs. Carter look so in love!” “I heard Mrs. Carter was the lead designer for this new product? Truly a match made in heaven!” The two of them smiled at each other. Neither of them corrected the press. It wasn’t until Chloe spotted me that her face went white. She ran over to me and bowed deeply. “Clara, I’m so sorry! They misunderstood, and I didn’t have time to explain… This project is entirely your hard work…” The entire room went dead silent.

Ethan strode over, pulling Chloe behind his back to shield her. “Clara, do you have to make a scene and embarrass everyone? Chloe is just an intern. I brought her here to get some exposure.” He lowered his voice, hissing, “This is a public event. Show some restraint.” I smiled. I stepped forward, gently helped Chloe up, and smiled at the cameras. “Everyone, this is Chloe Bennet. She’s a new intern on our team. She has a lot of potential.” The farce ended in a tense, hypocritical peace. When the interviews wrapped up, I pulled out my phone to book a flight. Ethan suddenly snatched it out of my hand. “Where do you think you’re going?” “Paris.” “Paris?” He frowned. “We don’t have any business in Paris right now. Did you book this on your own?” I took my phone back. “Personal business.” Ethan’s reaction surprised me. This hands-off husband was actually interrogating me. A flash of panic crossed his eyes as he grabbed my wrist. “What exactly are you trying to do?” Before I could answer, a scream echoed from backstage. Ethan let go of me instantly and sprinted toward the noise. I picked up my dropped phone, confirmed the ticket payment went through, and then walked backstage. The display area was a total mess. Chloe was sitting on the floor, a jagged piece of shattered acrylic panel having sliced a bloody gash across her arm. “Ethan… my arm hurts so bad… will it scar?” She looked up with tear-filled eyes. “Clara asked me to double-check the displays. I really didn’t know these shelves were unstable…” Ethan carefully cradled her arm, his eyes turning red with fury. He whipped his head around and glared at me. “Clara Miller, have you had enough?” “Chloe is just an intern, and you made her move heavy displays? What is wrong with you?” “I didn’t care when you drank with clients to close deals, but now you’re resorting to these pathetic, dirty tricks?” The surrounding staff whispered, throwing judgmental looks my way. I said in a flat voice, “I was at the front stage giving interviews half an hour ago. I never told her to—” “You didn’t have to tell her yourself!” Ethan cut me off, his voice shaking with rage. “Who in this company doesn’t listen to you? A single hint from you is enough!” He pointed at Chloe’s bleeding arm. “Apologize to her. Now! Or I’m calling the cops!” I smirked. I was about to say, “Go ahead, call them and check the security cameras,” but Chloe threw herself into his chest. “Don’t call the police, Ethan… I’m sure Clara didn’t mean to…” Ethan took a deep breath. His eyes swept over the corner of the room, and he suddenly grabbed the crystal trophy sitting on the shelf—the Golden Design Award our company had won last year. He slammed it down violently at my feet. The crystal shattered into a million pieces, a stray shard slicing right through my ankle. Blood began to seep out. “Consider this payback!” Ethan’s roar echoed through the backstage. “Listen up, everyone! Starting today, Clara Miller is barred from all company affairs! Anyone who takes orders from her will be fired on the spot!” He scooped Chloe up, shoved past me, and walked away without looking back once. I stood there, and my tears finally fell, mixing with the blood on the broken crystal trophy. This trophy was something Ethan and I had pulled countless all-nighters for during the early days of our startup. He had once told me, “Clara, half of this trophy belongs to you.” Now, he had smashed it with his own hands. I knelt, picked up the largest shard, and squeezed it tightly in my palm. The pain was sharp and clear. Then, I opened my hand and let it drop back into the wreckage.

Ethan was right. From now on, the company had nothing to do with me. I was never officially his business partner anyway; I had just managed everything in the capacity of his wife. But very soon, I wouldn’t even be that. The next day, I went to my office to pack up my personal belongings. Through the cracked door, I heard the project manager trying to reason with Ethan. “Ethan, you were too impulsive yesterday… Clara has been running the operations for years. If she really steps down, next quarter’s project is going to fall apart…” Ethan sneered. “Fall apart? Our products succeed because of my designs. She just does the busywork.” “Let Chloe take over her tasks. It’s just administrative stuff. Anyone can do it.” He paused, adding, “Chloe is different from Clara. She’s pure-hearted. Don’t let her go to those sleazy client dinners.” I stood outside the door, and any lingering urge to do a proper handover vanished. My phone buzzed. It was a message from my new company: “Your visa is approved. We are ready when you are.” I turned and walked away. I was halfway through packing my bags at home when Ethan unexpectedly walked in, holding a pastry box. “Chloe said the Mille-feuille from this bakery is amazing. I brought some for you.” I looked at the box, which had clearly been opened. The top pastry was missing a corner. I took the box and threw it straight into the trash can. Ethan’s face darkened. He saw the missing piece and forced down his anger. “…It’s not leftovers.” He had completely forgotten that I have a severe nut allergy. And the Mille-feuille from that bakery was heavily dusted with almond flakes. Three years ago, when I went into anaphylactic shock after drinking to cover for him, he had stayed outside the ICU all night, swearing he would never let a single nut enter our house again. I guess vows have an expiration date. My silence made Ethan uneasy. He paced around the living room before finally speaking. “I was too impulsive yesterday and embarrassed you. But as the founder, I have to be fair.” “I’m not actually banning you from the company… Just give Chloe a private apology, and we can move past this…” “Excuse me.” I dragged my suitcase past him. Ethan’s words caught in his throat, a strange, helpless expression crossing his face. In the bathroom drawer, there was a tube of lipstick I had never used. A bright red shade—Chloe’s favorite color. Right on cue, his phone rang. It was Chloe. “Ethan… I left my lipstick in your bathroom. I need it for our date tonight… Can you bring it to me?” Ethan walked into the bathroom and saw the open drawer. His eyes flickered with guilt, but he walked out and said into the phone, “I can’t find it. I’ll buy you a new one.” “Make sure it’s quick… It’s rude to be late for a date…” Ethan patiently wrote down the shade number and brand. By the time he hung up, my suitcase was locked. He rubbed his neck awkwardly. “She came over last week to borrow the bathroom and change clothes… It was an accident.” “I understand,” I said flatly. Ethan ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Do you have to be so cold? If it bothers you that much, I won’t go tonight.” I smiled slightly. “Do whatever you want.” He stared at me, trying to see if I was just playing hard to get. Realizing I genuinely didn’t care, he hesitated before turning to leave. At the door, he looked back. “Where are you taking that suitcase?” “Paris.” Ethan seemed to remember something, and his tense posture relaxed. “Let’s go next week. I’ll clear my schedule and take you on a vacation.” At the very last second, he actually remembered our old promise to visit Paris together. Too bad it was too late. While waiting at the airport, I scrolled past Chloe’s Instagram post—the one she had made sure I’d see. In the photo, she was sitting at a vanity, and Ethan’s hands were gently fastening a necklace around her neck. In the Live Photo, his voice was incredibly tender: “Don’t move, the clasp is a bit small.” The caption read: [Hurt my arm so I can’t put on my necklace, but he insisted on helping~ He said he’ll take care of me from now on. 💖] At the same time, a text from Ethan popped up: [Something came up next week. Reschedule your flight, I’ll go with you next month.] He had no idea I never booked a ticket for him in the first place. BBefore boarding, I had my lawyer email him the digital copy of the divorce papers. Then, I turned off my phone.

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Right before the wedding ceremony was about to start, my mom suddenly had a heart attack. I dropped everything, rushed her to the hospital, and stayed by her side. But the moment we arrived at the emergency room, a notification popped up on our family Snapchat group. “I successfully got Chloe to the hospital. You can start the wedding now.” A second later, my dad replied: “Don’t worry. I’m already walking Melody down the aisle.” My brother, Julian, added: “Melody has waited ten years for this. Today, she finally gets to marry Ethan legally.” The three messages were quickly deleted. But a moment later, my best friend, Sarah, accidentally sent a video to our group chat. In the video, my sister, Melody, was wearing the custom wedding dress I had handpicked. She wore my ring, walking toward my fiancé, Ethan Vance. On the hospital bed, my mom finally stopped pretending. She snatched the phone from my hand and said, without any guilt, “Chloe, Melody has loved Ethan for so many years.” “She just wants a wedding of her own. Just let her have this one, okay?” I looked at the heart monitor patches still stuck to her chest and suddenly laughed. It turned out everyone was acting out their own little play. And I was the only fool, fooled for seven years, treated as a massive joke by the people I loved.

By the time I rushed back to the hotel, Ethan was holding Melody’s hand, reciting his vows. “From the day I met you, I knew you were the only one I wanted for the rest of my life.” My breath caught in my throat. I wrote those vows myself. To condense seven years of love into one sentence, I had stayed up for three nights straight. Just last night, Ethan held me in his arms, whispering that he would only say these words to me on our wedding day. Yet here he was, not changing a single word. He read them to Melody. The applause in the hall died down instantly when the guests saw me standing at the door. Ethan immediately let go of Melody’s hand and walked toward me. “Chloe, go back to the hospital.” “I’ll explain everything once the ceremony is over.” I lost control and stormed forward, confronting him. “I want you to explain right now!” “Why is she wearing my wedding dress? Why is she wearing my ring, standing next to my groom?!” Ethan stepped in front of Melody, a flash of impatience in his eyes. “Because this wedding was meant for Melody from the very beginning.” Those words froze me to the spot. I had spent an entire year planning this wedding. But Ethan was telling me it never belonged to me. He looked at the diamond veil on Melody’s head, his voice dead calm. “Melody picked out this veil a long time ago.” “She was living abroad and couldn’t come back for the fittings, so I had you try it on to make sure the measurements were right.” I stared at him, my heart breaking. “What about the dress?” “It’s hers too.” “The original design sketch was made to fit Melody’s measurements.” A cold sweat broke out all over my body. No wonder Ethan refused to let the tailor alter the waistline. He kept telling me to lose weight to fit into the dress. I starved myself for six months just to fit into it. Now, I finally understood. I was never the bride. Melody held Ethan’s arm, looking at me with pity in her eyes. “Chloe, don’t blame Ethan. I was the one who told him to pursue you.” “Back then, I had to go abroad for my medical treatment, and I didn’t know if I would survive.” “You had just been dumped by your ex, and you couldn’t sleep at night.” A perfect look of sorrow washed over her face. “I couldn’t bear to see you suffer, so I begged Ethan to take care of you for a while.” “The food Ethan brought you every day? I wrote that menu.” “The restaurant for your first date? I picked it.” “Even the confession he said to you? I taught him word for word.” My throat felt like it was blocked by concrete. Ethan had pursued me for ninety-nine days. I used to write down every little detail of those ninety-nine days in my diary. But it turned out none of those moments belonged to me. Sarah, holding her bridesmaid dress, walked over to us. “Chloe, it was wrong of us to keep you in the dark.” “But Melody has suffered way more than you.” “She watched the man she loved stay with you for seven years, and she never tried to break you up.” “She’s been kind enough. Stop pushing her.” I looked at Sarah, the girl I had called my best friend for over ten years. “So, you knew too?” Sarah nodded. “We were just afraid you wouldn’t be able to handle it.” “You have such an extreme personality. If you found out Ethan actually loved Melody, who knows what you would have done?” Everyone stood by Melody’s side. They looked at me with defensive, wary eyes. As if I weren’t the victim who had been lied to for seven years. As if I were a crazy woman about to ruin my sister’s happiness. The phone in my bag suddenly vibrated. It was the director of the London project who had offered me a job three months ago. “Hi Chloe, tonight is the deadline to confirm your permanent transfer to London.” “We saved the last seat on the flight for you.”

I gripped my phone. I had turned down this job once before, all because of Ethan. Back then, he had hugged me tightly, whispering in my ear. “Chloe, if you go to London, what am I going to do?” “We’re getting married soon. Can you really leave me behind?” After agonizing over the decision, I chose him. I gave up a career-defining opportunity just to marry him. Thinking about the seven years of sweetness we shared, I looked at Ethan, my voice cracking. “Since Melody is back, why didn’t you just break up with me?” “Did you ever love me? Even for a second during these seven years?” Ethan remained silent for a long time. Melody smiled softly, her tone dripping with pity. “He didn’t break up with you because I didn’t let him.” “You made Ethan your entire world.” “I was afraid that if he left, you would lose your mind again.” She walked over to me like a generous saint. “Chloe, I let the man I love stay with you for seven years.” “I watched him celebrate your birthdays, take wedding photos with you, and even plan a wedding.” “I have compromised for so long.” “Now, I just want my wedding back. Why can’t you grant me this one wish?” With that, she gently placed her hand over her stomach. “If it were just me, I could keep waiting.” “But I’m three months pregnant.” “I can’t let my baby grow up without knowing their own father.” Ethan’s face paled, and he immediately put his hand on her waist. “The doctor said you need to stay calm.” “Don’t waste your breath explaining things to her.” He looked up at me, his voice freezing cold. “Chloe, Melody has sacrificed seven years for you.” “Now that she’s pregnant with my child, I can’t keep playing this game with you.” With a few short sentences, he erased the seven years we had built together. But Ethan once cared about me more than anything. When I was hospitalized with acute gastritis, he cancelled all his business meetings to stay by my bedside for two days and nights. When his family opposed our relationship, he cut off his trust fund and moved into my tiny, rented apartment. During our hardest times, we shared a single piece of toast. He gave me the only egg we had, smiling. “Chloe, wait for me.” “I will prove to everyone that you didn’t make the wrong choice.” Later, when his startup failed and he was drowning in debt, I worked my day job and took freelance design gigs at night, pulling him through the hardest two years. The day he got his first major investment, he cried in my arms for a long time. He swore he would never betray me. Those hugs were real. Those tears were real. But now, he was shielding a pregnant Melody, telling me our seven years of love was just a show. Suddenly, the giant screen behind them lit up again. The staff, unaware of the chaos, started playing the couple’s memorial video as scheduled. Bold gold letters flashed across the screen: “Ethan Vance & Melody Miller: Ten Years of Love.” Photos began to slide across the screen along a timeline. On my twenty-fourth birthday, Ethan told me his flight was delayed, leaving me alone with a cold birthday cake. But in the photo on screen, he was wrapping a scarf around Melody under a snowy mountain, leaning down to kiss her red nose. Six months ago, when I had my first miscarriage. Ethan said he had an urgent business trip and couldn’t sign the surgery consent form at the hospital. My mom said her chest was hurting. My dad and Julian both turned off their phones. I lay on the cold operating table alone, shivering from the pain. In the photos on screen, they were celebrating Melody’s birthday on a private island. My mom was holding a gift, my dad was cutting the cake, and Julian was setting off fireworks by the beach. Sarah stood behind the camera, capturing their perfect family reunion. The photos filled the seven years I was excluded from. And they exposed all the lies they had fed me.

The doors of the ballroom opened again. My mom rushed in, wiping away Melody’s tears with a pained expression. When she looked at me, her voice was filled with annoyance. “Melody has suffered enough for seven years.” “She just wanted her wedding back. Why did you have to come back and make a scene?” My voice trembled. “Mom… so you didn’t have a heart attack? You were faking it the whole time?” “Three years ago, when Ethan and I were supposed to get married.” “You suddenly said your chest was hurting and made me stay at the hospital with you.” “Was that just to keep me away, too?” Melody suddenly laughed. “Chloe, you finally figured it out.” She pulled a marriage certificate out from beneath her bouquet. In the photo, she was leaning against Ethan’s shoulder. They looked incredibly happy and perfect for each other. The date stamped at the bottom was the exact day I was stuck at the hospital three years ago. My dad and Julian were the witnesses. Sarah took the photos. Ethan had married Melody with everyone’s blessings. Meanwhile, I was sitting alone, watching over my “sick” mother. I had sent Ethan dozens of messages, apologizing for not being able to make it to the courthouse. I told him we would find another day to get married once my mom was better. He took a long time to reply. “It’s okay, we have plenty of time.” Melody waved the certificate in front of my face and laughed out loud. “Chloe, I was the one who sent that text.” “Because at that moment, Ethan’s hands were all over me. He didn’t have time to look at his phone.” Standing in the middle of the crowded ballroom, I felt completely numb. I bit my lip so hard it bled, turned around, and ran out. If I stayed a second longer, my heart would literally stop beating from the pain. Standing outside, listening to the wedding march playing inside, my hands shook as I typed my reply to the London project director: “I’m in.” The reply came almost instantly. “Great, Chloe. Your transfer is confirmed. We’ve booked your flight.” I had twenty-four hours left before I could leave them forever. Originally, Ethan and I were supposed to head straight to the airport for our honeymoon after the wedding. My passport and luggage were already packed in the bridal suite. I stuffed my passport into my suitcase, but before I could walk out, the door was pushed open. “Chloe!” Ethan rushed in, panting, as if he was terrified of losing me. My face was pale. I let out a mocking laugh and opened my mouth to speak, but he shoved a piece of chocolate into my mouth. The gesture was so natural, just like he had done a thousand times over the last seven years. “Look at you. Your blood sugar is dropping.” The rich chocolate melted in my mouth, but it tasted incredibly bitter. Seeing my silence, Ethan took off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. “I’ll have the driver take you to a hotel.” “I’ve booked a room for you. Stay there for a few days.” “Once the wedding is over, I’ll come find you and explain everything.” My nose stung. He didn’t say he loved me, and he didn’t say he couldn’t let me go. But these instinctive acts of care still reminded me of the old Ethan, the one who would run through the rain to buy me medicine and make sure I finished my food before leaving. Seven years of habit don’t disappear instantly. The jacket still carried his warmth. I used to think this warmth belonged only to me. But now, his wife was someone else. “Ethan, I knew you’d be here.” Melody’s voice came from the door. Sarah was right behind her. Melody looked at Ethan’s hand, which was still hovering near me. Her eyes welled up with tears. “Am I always going to be second to her?” “I know you still care about Chloe. If that’s the case, I’ll just back out and let you two be…” The next second, Ethan pulled her into a tight embrace, his eyes red. Melody stood on her tiptoes, kissing him through her tears. At that moment, I felt like the villain in their fairytale.

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I have mild face blindness. But my fiancé, Ethan, always treated my condition as a game for his own amusement. Time after time, he would team up with his best friend Logan and my best friend Amelia, eager to “test” me in crowded places. If I guessed wrong once, he would make me pay for dinner. If I guessed wrong twice, Ethan would look at me coldly and ask, “We have been together for five years, and you can’t even recognize me? Do you even love me?” On the day we were supposed to take our engagement photos, they played the “Find the Groom” game again. Over a dozen men stood in a row, all wearing the exact same black suit. Everyone was waiting to watch me make a fool of myself. Finally, my best friend Amelia took my hand. “Stop looking, Chloe. Ethan didn’t even show up.” The crowd burst into laughter. On the table lay a sticky note left by Ethan. “Since you can’t even recognize your own fiancé, figure out how to get to the rehearsal dinner tonight by yourself.” After reading it, I called the event planner on the spot. “Cancel the dinner tonight.” It didn’t matter that I couldn’t recognize his face anymore. This time, I finally saw him for who he really was.

After canceling the engagement dinner, I sent the cancellation confirmation back to the coordinator. The coordinator asked, “Ms. Vance, the venue is already set up. If you cancel now, there’s a thirty percent cancellation fee. Are you sure?” “I’m sure. Refund the remaining amount to my account.” “Does Mr. Miller know?” “There’s no need to notify him.” I hung up, called an Uber, and went back to my condo. The moment I unlocked the door, Logan’s voice drifted over from the living room. “Ethan, I lost the bet. She’s actually back in less than two hours.” Ethan let out a low chuckle. “I told you, she can’t handle the venue coordinators on her own. She can’t even recognize people. How is she going to plan a dinner? She was bound to come crawling back to beg me.” The three of them were sitting in the living room, eating pizza and fried chicken. Ethan’s suit jacket was tossed carelessly on the floor. Amelia was wearing the exact designer dress I had ordered for the dinner. I had ordered that dress weeks ago. The tailor had altered it three times to fit me. Logan pushed his phone toward Ethan. “A bet’s a bet. I’ll cover your bachelor trip. Pick any luxury hotel you want.” Amelia stood up, trying to grab my hand. “Chloe, you’re finally back. Ethan just wanted to teach you a lesson. Don’t let a silly game ruin the dinner.” I stepped back, avoiding her touch. “The dinner is canceled.” Ethan paused, dropping his fork onto the paper plate. “What did you say?” “I just called the coordinator. The rehearsal dinner is off.” “Who gave you permission to cancel it?” “I signed the contract, and I paid the deposit.” Ethan walked over to me, reaching out to grab my phone. “Chloe, stop throwing a tantrum. I made you go to the venue alone to teach you how to be independent. If you can’t even handle a little thing like this, how are we supposed to get married?” I slipped my phone back into my purse. “My fiancé wasn’t even there. Why would I hold a dinner by myself?” “I was just going to be a little late. If you had found the venue yourself, I would have showed up.” “Your note said to ‘figure it out myself’.” “It was just a joke. Can’t you take a joke?” I looked at the dress on Amelia. “Take it off.” Amelia clutched the skirt. “What?” “That’s my dress.” “I was just trying it on. Since the dinner is canceled anyway, it’s just going to waste in the closet.” “It was tailored to my exact measurements. Isn’t it a bit tight for you?” Ethan grabbed Amelia’s arm, pulling her back. “Don’t take it off. Keep it on. She’s being ungrateful. You don’t need to baby her.” I swallowed the rising nausea in my throat. “So my rehearsal dress is just a community prop? She can wear it whenever she wants?” “She’s your best friend, Chloe, not a stranger.” “Then what about my fiancé? Can she borrow him too?” Ethan’s face darkened instantly. “Don’t talk so dirty. Amelia and I are completely innocent. You’re just paranoid, always twisting everything into something sick.” “Chloe, apologize to Amelia right now. Do that, and I’ll pretend this dinner drama never happened. Tomorrow, I’ll take you to Tiffany’s to pick out our wedding bands.” Ethan reached out to pat my face, but I took a step back. His hand froze in mid-air, his voice turning colder. “Your face blindness is just a bad habit because everyone coddles you. If you don’t cure it now, what are you going to do when we have kids? Pick up the wrong child from daycare? We are doing this for your own good.” Logan handed Amelia another slice of pizza. “Just ignore her. Once she gets hungry, she’ll come out of her room to eat.” Ethan pointed toward the kitchen. “Go get a plate. The cancellation fee for the dinner is coming out of your personal account. Tomorrow, reschedule with the planner.” Without a word, I walked straight into my bedroom. I locked the door, pulled out my suitcase, and packed my deed of ownership and ID. Soon, laughter echoed from the living room again. Logan asked, “Are we still going on the trip?” Ethan replied, “Of course. She’s throwing such a fit today anyway. Let her stay home and reflect on her behavior.” I dialed my real estate broker’s number. “Hi, I want to sell my condo. I need a quick cash buyer.” The broker asked, “Is anyone living there right now?” “Starting tomorrow, you can bring buyers in for showings anytime.”

The broker verified my property info. “Ms. Vance, you are the sole owner on the deed, but there’s still a mortgage balance. A quick cash sale means we have to list it below market value. Are you okay with that?” “Yes. Try to lock in a buyer within three days.” “That’s very fast. The price might drop significantly.” “As long as the paperwork is legal, you can negotiate the price.” After sending over the documents, I logged into my company’s portal. There was an open position in our Austin branch. They needed someone to lead a new project independently. It was over six hundred miles away. The application deadline was midnight tonight. I submitted my relocation request and set my start date for three days from now. I shut down my laptop and packed my legal documents, work computer, and a few clothes. The next morning, I walked out of the bedroom wheeling my suitcase. Ethan blocked my way. “Who are you trying to threaten with that suitcase? Going to run to your parents again?” “I’m going to the office.” “With a giant suitcase?” “It has project files in it.” My phone buzzed. It was a text from the broker. A cash buyer was coming to inspect the condo in thirty minutes. I had already sent the broker a temporary smart-lock code. I needed to get Ethan out of here. “Let’s go.” Ethan smirked. “See? Was it really that hard to just behave? You had to make a scene all night.” When we arrived at the jewelry store, I realized Logan and Amelia were already waiting there. Amelia ran up to me. “Chloe, please don’t misunderstand. Ethan said more opinions would help, so I came along.” Ethan handed my suitcase to the store clerk for safekeeping. “Amelia has better taste than you anyway. We have to wear these wedding bands for the rest of our lives. What’s wrong with letting her help us choose?” The sales associate laid out several sets of rings. “You two can try them on for sizing first.” Just as I reached out my hand, Amelia pointed to a diamond necklace in the display case. “Ethan, isn’t this gorgeous?” Amelia put the necklace on and turned to me. “Chloe, what do you think?” “If you like it, buy it,” I said flatly. “Wait, so you’re going to give the apology gift meant for your fiancée to Amelia?” Amelia immediately started taking off the necklace. “I don’t want it anymore. Please don’t fight because of me.” Logan pressed his hand over the jewelry box. “Ethan bought it for you, so take it. Chloe ruined her own rehearsal dinner. How does she have the nerve to complain about a necklace?” Ethan pulled out his Amex card. “Wrap it up.” “What about our rings?” I asked. “With your current attitude, do you think you deserve a ring?” He swiped his card and handed the shopping bag to Amelia. “When you learn how to respect people, then we’ll buy the rings.” “What do I need to do to prove myself?” I asked. Amelia looked out the window of the mall. “The game yesterday wasn’t finished. There are plenty of people here. Let’s do a re-test. If you can find Ethan in the crowd, I’ll give the necklace back to you.” Ethan agreed immediately. “Deal. If she gets it wrong again, I’m never holding a wedding.” Amelia already had her phone up, camera pointing at me. “Chloe, I’m recording this for proof.”

I didn’t move. Amelia zoomed in on my face. “Don’t be nervous. Ethan is just somewhere in this mall. You’ve been together for five years. You can definitely find him.” “I’m not playing.” Ethan took off his coat and tossed it to Logan. “She’s just scared of losing. We are doing this today, or she’ll never fix her attitude.” A few salespeople outside the luxury menswear store across the hall were wearing identical black suits. Ethan put on a black face mask, took off his watch, and let Logan lead him over to join them. Before walking away, he said to me, “We’ll just be three storefronts down. If you ever actually looked at me, you wouldn’t get this wrong.” Amelia started the Snapchat recording. “Chloe, go ahead.” “I told you, I’m not playing.” She blocked my path. “You can’t just run away every time things get hard. We are doing this because we want you to be normal.” “I have mild face blindness. I am normal.” “I didn’t mean it like that. But you can’t even recognize your own fiancé. It hurts Ethan’s feelings too.” “His feelings are hurt, so he wants you to record me making mistakes?” Amelia lowered her phone slightly. “I just wanted to keep it as a memory. Once you’re cured in the future, you’ll look back at these videos and think it was funny.” “Delete all the old videos.” “They’re already in our Snapchat group. How am I supposed to delete them?” “You posted them without my permission.” “We are all friends, Chloe. It’s just a joke. Why do you always have to take everything so seriously?” My stomach began to ache from stress, and cold sweat broke out on my forehead. The sales associate brought over a cup of warm water. “Please sit down, ma’am.” Amelia raised her phone again. “Chloe, stop pretending to be sick. Ethan is still waiting. It’s only three stores away. Just walk over and take a look.” The sales associate stepped in front of her camera. “This lady clearly said she doesn’t want to do it. Why are you still filming?” “We are her friends. She has face blindness, and we are helping her.” “Knowing she has face blindness and forcing her to identify someone is what you call helping?” Amelia’s smile faded. “This is our private business. Stay out of it.” Amelia clutched her jewelry bag. “You don’t know the whole story. Chloe agreed to the test herself. We didn’t force her.” I looked at her. “When did I ever agree?” Ethan and Logan walked back over. Ethan’s first words were, “Why didn’t you come find me?” “I didn’t want to.” “I stood there for fifteen minutes, and you didn’t even take one step?” Logan pointed at the sales associate. “Were you the one stirring up drama just now? Since when do you get a say in this?” The associate replied, “She’s already feeling unwell, and you guys are forcing her to play games. If something happens to her, are you going to take responsibility?” Ethan glanced at me. “She’s just playing the victim. She always looks like this whenever she gets it wrong.” “I am not playing.” “Then prove it to me. Go do it now.” “No.” He raised his voice, commanding me. “Apologize to Amelia, then go find me. If you can’t recognize me today, you’re walking home.” My phone buzzed in my hand. It was a text from my broker: “The buyer accepted your price and just wired the earnest money. I’ve sent the digital contract to your email. Please sign.” I opened the document, scrolled to the last page, and signed my name.

As soon as the electronic contract was submitted, the broker called. “Ms. Vance, the buyer wants a fast closing and hopes to get the keys as soon as possible. The remaining mortgage will be cleared through the escrow account. You can authorize us to handle the title transfer.” “That works.” “What about the furniture?” “Leave it all for the buyer.” “There are other people’s belongings in the condo. Are you sure you don’t need to notify them?” “The contract specifies the move-out deadline. Just follow the legal contract.” I hung up and pulled my suitcase from the counter. Ethan blocked me again. “Where are you going now?” “I have things to do.” “Finish the test first.” “No.” “Then don’t even think about getting the rings. And don’t bother showing up to the party tonight.” I walked around them and left the store. Ethan didn’t chase after me. I heard him call out from behind: “Let her go. She can’t even navigate. She’ll be calling me to beg for a ride in ten minutes.” Once I got into the Uber, I received a message from my company’s HR. “Chloe, your relocation request has been approved. The Austin branch needs you to start ASAP. What is the earliest you can get here?” “I can report tomorrow.” “The project is urgent, so the company will cover your flight ticket for today.” I found a flight leaving in two hours and booked it immediately. Ethan called, but I declined it. The group chat started blowing up. Ethan posted: “Don’t wait for her. We’re going to The Gatsby Lounge tonight. Let her reflect on her behavior outside. She can come back when she learns how to apologize.” Logan: “I already booked the hotel. Let’s fly to Cabo next week. We’ll treat it as an early honeymoon.” Ethan: “She ruined the rehearsal dinner, so she doesn’t deserve to go. Just the three of us will go.” After arriving at the airport, the wedding coordinator contacted me again. “Ms. Vance, Mr. Miller just called about the rehearsal dinner. He refuses to cancel and wants to reinstate the booking.” “I signed the contract. He has no right to reinstate it.” “He also said you’ll have to cover the cancellation fee yourself.” “Deduct it from my deposit.” “The remaining balance will be refunded to your account within seven business days.” “Thank you.” I checked my bags. The group chat was still active. I clicked “Leave Group Chat.” Ethan’s call came through again. This time, I picked up. “Chloe, where the hell are you?” “Is there a problem?” “Get to The Gatsby Lounge right now. Amelia is willing to forgive you. Just apologize to her face, and we’ll put this behind us.” “I’m not coming.” “Don’t be so ungrateful. That condo is our home. If you don’t show up tonight, don’t even think about sleeping here.” “Okay.” Ethan paused. “What do you mean, ‘okay’?” “Exactly what I said.” “Are you hiding somewhere crying again? I’m telling you, this isn’t going to work on me. If you’re so brave, don’t ever come back.” “I won’t.” I hung up, blocked Ethan, Logan, and Amelia’s numbers, and added them to my blacklist. The boarding announcement rang out, and I turned off my phone. Right before takeoff, the broker sent one last text. “Ms. Vance, the buyer will inspect the property and change the smart-lock codes tomorrow morning. Is that fine?” I typed two words. “That’s fine.”

When the plane landed, the first things I received were the address of my corporate housing and my check-in schedule. Immediately after, a text from an unknown number arrived with a picture. In the photo, Ethan, Logan, and Amelia were sitting on a sunny beach in Cabo. Amelia was wearing that diamond necklace. Ethan was holding a coconut drink for her, and Logan was taking pictures of her. Underneath the photo was a text: “Since you ruined the rehearsal dinner, we had to move our trip forward. Amelia was hurt, so I brought her out to clear her head. When you learn how to recognize people, then we can talk about getting married.” I blocked the number and contacted the colleague who was picking me up. Her name was Harper Stone. She was holding a sign with my name near the baggage claim. When I walked over, she spoke first. “Chloe Vance?” “Yes.” “I’m Harper. I coordinate the project files and client relations. You don’t have to stress about memorizing my face. I always wear a blue lanyard, and I have a silver watch on my right wrist.” I froze for a second. She took my suitcase from my hand. “Your HR file mentioned you have mild face blindness. If you ever can’t find me, look for those two things, or just call my cell.” Those words were so simple, yet they made the tight knot in my chest suddenly loosen. Ethan used to tell me: “If you just pay attention, you can remember.” But no one had ever told me that recognizing someone didn’t have to depend entirely on their face. At the apartment, I only unpacked my documents, laptop, and two changes of clothes. I left the rest in the suitcase because I had to report to the project team early the next morning. After a quick shower, I opened my laptop and listed my tasks for the next three days. First: Confirm the title transfer of the condo. Second: Deactivate my old phone number. Third: Back up every single candid video Ethan, Logan, and Amelia had ever taken of me. I used to be too terrified to watch those videos. Every time I clicked them, the sound of their mocking laughter would fill the room. But now, I knew that I wasn’t the one who should feel embarrassed. I gathered all the links, screenshots, and chat histories into a secure folder and named it: “Evidence.” Only then did I shut my laptop and go to bed. Before sleeping, the broker sent a final update. “Ms. Vance, the buyer has completed the walkthrough and changed the lock codes. We’ve notified Mr. Miller to retrieve his items. If he doesn’t pick them up on time, they will be moved to the building’s storage room.” I replied: “Proceed according to the contract.” The next morning, I arrived at the office twenty minutes early. In the breakroom, a woman in a beige blazer was standing by the water dispenser. Her hairstyle looked very similar to Harper’s. I walked up to her. “Chris, which floor is the project room on?” The woman turned around. “I’m not Chris.” I glanced at her ID badge, unable to read the name immediately. “I am so sorry. I got the wrong person.” “I’m Victoria Sterling, the Marketing Director. Are you Chloe Vance, the transfer from headquarters?” “Yes, that’s me.” Victoria checked her watch. “The project kickoff is in ten minutes. Getting names wrong is fine, just don’t be late.” After she left, Harper walked in and handed me a sheet of paper. On it were the names, roles, and habits of every member of our team. “Zach talks fast and always holds a black mug. Jenna wears a pink lanyard. Arthur always knocks twice on the table before entering a room.” “You wrote all of this down?” “Projects succeed through execution, not guessing games.” During the meeting, Harper didn’t force me to identify anyone on the spot. She simply had everyone introduce their roles. I noted down their voices and physical habits in my notebook. No one laughed. No one made jokes. When it was my turn, I only said two things. “I am responsible for the delivery of this project. I have mild face blindness. If I call you by the wrong name, please correct me directly. I will use your voice, role, and written records to confirm.” No one in the conference room joked about it. Victoria only asked, “How will you handle client meetings?” “I will prepare client lists in advance, ask them to introduce themselves, and place name cards at key seating positions.” “Perfect. Prepare it that way.” During lunch, just as I opened the client brief, my phone rang. It was the cash buyer of my old condo. “Ms. Vance, there are three people standing outside my door. The leader is claiming he’s your fiancé.” Through the receiver, Ethan’s shouting voice drifted over. “Chloe, I know you’re listening. What is this all about? Why did you change the locks?”

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My older sister, Kate, vanished into thin air late at night just to buy me a birthday cake. Ever since, on my birthday, my dad would lock me in the dark basement, forcing me to gorge on cake until I threw up. And then make me keep eating. All because they were convinced I was the one who killed Kate. Until my eighteenth birthday, when a psycho stalked me. With shaking hands, I texted them on SnapChat, begging for help. Dad’s voice was dripping with venom and sarcasm when he answered: “Today is your day of atonement. Get your ass back here right now!” “A young girl using such a cheap lie to get attention. Remember, Kate’s body was never found because of you!” The call went dead. A second later, a heavy iron pipe slammed into the back of my skull. Within less than an hour, I was tortured to death, my body mutilated beyond recognition before being dumped into the local reservoir. And when my detective dad arrived at the crime scene, he didn’t even recognize my corpse. Later, Kate returned home, very much alive and heavily pregnant. When they finally realized that the rotting, mutilated corpse was actually me, they completely broke down.

By the time James rushed to the body dump site in his yellow raincoat, the forensics team had already laid me on the wet ground. The winter rain was pouring down, accompanied by a freezing wind. Deputies and K9 units were combing through every inch of the area, searching for any trace of the killer. The medical examiner walked over to James, his face pale with rage. “The victim has over a hundred wounds, mostly blanched from the water. But it’s clear she was a young woman, and she was brutally tortured before she died.” James followed his gaze. A flicker of disgust and pity crossed his face. “Bastard… absolute animal! If I catch the sick freak who did this, I’m going to make him pay!” For the first time in ten years, I felt a spark of my father’s pity. Even if it was as a cold, dead body. The coroner nodded grimly, promising to do everything to find the killer. My body was carefully transported to the morgue. James stayed for the autopsy, watching as they cleaned the mud off my face. The bloated, naked body of a young girl lay on the cold steel table. She was completely unrecognizable, her ears sliced off, and her fingernails ripped out. Even the veteran medical examiner had to choke back a gag, muttering, “This killer is a psychopath. He wanted to erase her identity completely.” James rubbed his tired face, reviewing the details. “The skin on her face was extensively mutilated, making visual ID impossible. Judging by dental wear, she’s between sixteen and twenty.” “Her ears were cut off, likely to hide a birthmark or surgical scars that could identify her.” “The killer was incredibly cautious—even her fingernails are gone.” “There’s no DNA on the body. The reservoir probably wasn’t the primary crime scene. We need more clues.” The coroner sighed and patted James’s shoulder. “We’ll run DNA to identify her as soon as possible.” “She looks about the same age as your daughter. It’s a tragedy.” Then, remembering something, the coroner looked apologetic. “James, I know you’ve been working overtime for a month straight.” “Today is Kylie’s birthday. You finally got a night off to spend with your family, and we had to drag you out here. I’m sorry.” At the mention of my name, James’s face hardened with instant disgust. “She doesn’t deserve a birthday.” “If I could trade her life for Kate’s, I’d do it in a heartbeat.” Silence fell over the room. No one dared to breathe. Those words cut deeper and left me more hopeless than the cold blade the killer used to carve up my face. I used to think that ten years of emotional abuse, silent treatment, and constant degradation would slowly chip away at James’s hatred. But I was foolishly dreaming. The coroner pursed his lips. “James, it’s been ten years. Kylie was only eight back then. She didn’t know any better. How can you still blame her?” “She’s your only child now!” James’s eyes burned red with fury. “How can I not blame her?! If she hadn’t thrown a tantrum for that damn cake, would Kate have ever gone out that night?!” I had heard that accusation a thousand times over the past decade. It was carved into my very soul. But every time he brought it up, James was still as hysterical and broken as the first day. At night, I still had nightmares of James dragging me by my hair to Kate’s empty-casket memorial headstone. He would smash my head against the stone until I bled, forcing me to scream that I was sorry, that I shouldn’t have asked for that cake. Sometimes I wished I had died on my eighth birthday instead. Then, I wouldn’t have had to carry the weight of a murderer on my shoulders, growing up alone in this twisted, broken home. The coroner took a deep breath. “James, I get your anger. But if something actually happens to Kylie, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.” I hovered near James, hoping, begging for just one soft word. “Regret? Bullshit. The day she dies, I’m opening a bottle of champagne.” The tiny spark of hope in my chest died completely. James, I am dead. Once you find out, will you finally stop hating me? Just then, an officer walked in with an evidence bag containing a blood-soaked scarf. The faded fabric was embroidered with tiny yellow stars, now drenched in dark, crusty blood. James barely glanced at it before waving his assistant over. “It’s just a generic item with no unique identifiers. Send it to the lab to see if the blood matches the victim.” My eyes widened, and my heart shattered into a million pieces. He forgot. He completely forgot that this was the gift he gave me on my first day of elementary school. Back then, James was so busy with work that his marriage with Sarah fell apart. Sarah found a new lover and abandoned both Kate and me to James. Because I had been deprived of oxygen in the womb during a difficult birth, I developed much slower than other kids. In elementary school, I still drooled when I got nervous, and the other kids made fun of me. Growing up without a mother made me terribly insecure. I was terrified of going to school alone. Since James had no money to spare for my therapy while raising two kids, he hand-sewed this scarf for me, stitching a bunch of little stars onto the fabric. Back then, James would kiss my cheek and whisper softly: “Kylie, this is your special handkerchief. Just use it to wipe your mouth whenever you feel nervous.” “It’s okay. If anyone laughs at you, tell me.” “This has my scent on it. Whenever you’re scared of being alone, just smell it. Think of it as me being right next to you.” “I’m a cop, Kylie. I will protect you forever.” Now, the man who gave me that warm promise had completely forgotten it, calling it a “generic item.” Oh, James… you just missed your only chance to recognize your own daughter.

Once the paperwork was done, James finally checked his phone. He saw my SnapChat texts begging for help. His investigator instincts kicked in, and he dialed Sarah. For a second, I thought they had finally realized something was wrong. But the moment James spoke, my hopes crashed. “Did Kylie call you crying again?” “She went as far as sending me fake texts claiming some freak was stalking her on her way home. Is she really trying to copy what happened to Kate?!” I didn’t lie, James! I was in real danger! The body you just pitied on the autopsy table… that’s me! Please, believe me just once! His brow was furrowed in deep annoyance. I hoped Sarah would show some concern. After all, ever since Kate disappeared ten years ago, I had never dared to reach out to them. But Sarah’s voice over the speaker was cold and dismissive. “She’s been a pathological liar since she was a toddler, don’t you know that?” “Remember when she faked stomach aches just to skip preschool? I gave you custody. She’s your kid, don’t bring her drama to me.” “Last time she showed up at my house with some cheap Mother’s Day gift, it made things so awkward. My husband was right next to me!” Because of the difficult labor, Sarah had resented me from the moment I was born. After Kate’s disappearance, that resentment became fully justified in her eyes. I listened to them take turns listing all my flaws, until James cursed, “She was born to be a curse on this family!” In the end, neither of them wondered if leaving me out in the dark would lead to any danger. I curled up in the corner of the room, my soul aching with a hollow pain. My death didn’t matter to anyone. “I need to file a report!” A familiar voice echoed from the lobby. “My friend Kylie has been missing since last night! Something terrible must have happened to her!” In front of the front desk, my only friend, Chloe, was frantically explaining the situation to the officer. She said I had stopped replying to her Snapchats and missed our plans to hang out. Looking at how panicked she was, my heart squeezed with painful gratitude. How I wished I could tell her not to cry, but I could only stand beside her as a ghost, weeping silently. Thank you for caring about me, Chloe. When the officer asked if she had contacted the family, James walked into the lobby, looking down at Chloe with cold eyes. “No need to waste your time. I’m Kylie’s father.” “She isn’t missing. She committed a family offense and is currently grounded in the basement.” “And I don’t appreciate her running around with delinquent kids like you.” He dragged out the word ‘delinquent’. I watched Chloe’s face turn pale, her fingers nervously clutching the hem of her worn-out jacket. But Chloe wasn’t a delinquent. When James forgot to give me lunch money, she would steal bread from her own kitchen to feed me. When she found out I was using toilet paper because I couldn’t afford pads, she used her babysitting money to buy them for me. Others looked down on her because she was poor, but she was my savior. Since James was the Homicide Captain, no officer dared to question his words. My disappearance was swept under the rug simply because a parent claimed I was “grounded.” I watched Chloe leave, feeling utterly helpless. I wanted to follow her. But my soul was tethered to James, dragged along as he drove home. A thin layer of dust covered the dining table. The decorative flowers had long withered. James brought in takeout boxes and lined them up. A year after Kate vanished, on this very day, I had mistakenly thought these lavish takeout meals were for my birthday. While James was in the restroom, I couldn’t resist sneaking a bite of my favorite seafood pasta. But James caught me. He marched over, his face twisted in rage, and choked me against the wall. “Why are you so greedy?! Is this for you? A leech like you doesn’t deserve this!” My face turned purple as I gasped for air. “I’m sorry… I thought it was for my birthday. I’ll spit it out… I’ll spit it out right now…” A sharp piece of seafood shell got stuck in my throat. I swallowed hard, tears streaming down my face. When I was on the verge of passing out, James finally let go, pointing at me and snarling, “You like eating so much? I’ll make sure you eat till you die!” Under his murderous gaze, I was forced to stuff three eight-inch cream cakes down my throat until I vomited all over the floor.

I lay shivering on the floor, weak and exhausted. James grabbed my hair, dragging me to the bathroom. “Kylie, you listen to me. It’s because of your greedy stomach, because you demanded that stupid birthday cake, that Kate is gone!” “Don’t play victim with me. Grab the mop and clean this up!” James, I wasn’t playing victim. I was hurting. My throat, my stomach, my entire heart… everything was in agonizing pain. I wiped my tears and dragged the mop across the floor. I forced myself to keep moving, watching James place the delicious food in Kate’s untouched room, whispering to her empty bed: “Kate, Kylie is such a disappointment. I should have never spoiled her. I used to yell at you for eating junk food, but look, I bought all your favorites today. If you want anything else, just tell me in my dreams. I miss you so much.” I couldn’t bear to hear any more. I shrank back into the bathroom, trying to suppress my sobs. The laughter of other families downstairs drifted through the window. I pressed my face against the small window glass, trying to hear it clearly, pretending I was the girl in those stories, enjoying the perfect family warmth. But I was the curse who killed Kate. No miracles would ever happen to me. But James, tell me what I have to do for you to forgive me. I promise I’ll be good… The next morning, I woke up with a burning fever. At nine years old, I had no money and didn’t know how to go to the hospital. Terrified, I took some cash from James’s nightstand and stumbled to the nearest pharmacy. The pharmacist took one look at my flushed face and burning forehead and immediately carried me to the community clinic for an IV drip. They asked for my father’s number. As the needle pierced my skin, I foolishly thought, This time, James won’t say I’m faking it, right? Sure enough, James rushed in, clutching his briefcase. Hope flared in my chest. I called out sweetly, “Dad!” I secretly thought, If he just pat my head, or gently blow on the needle mark, I would forgive him for everything. But what James gave me was a harsh slap across the face. “You thief! You actually stole my money! You got scared of being caught, so you faked an illness, didn’t you?” “I’m a police officer, and I raised a thief!” The IV needle was ripped out of my vein. I curled up, crying hysterically, begging him to believe me. Hearing that James was a cop, the nurses and onlookers stopped defending me. Their sympathetic looks turned into disgust and disapproval. Parents nearby whispered to their kids, telling them never to end up like me. I didn’t steal that money to be bad. I wasn’t a thief. I was just a sick child who wanted to live. But until the day I died, I never became a child worthy of love. I watched James fill Kate’s empty bowl with food, and silently pack her closet with the latest fashion trends. This haunting routine had repeated every single day for ten years. I was lost in these painful memories when a knock on the front door snapped me back. A voice from the past echoed through the hallway. “James! Open up! I’m back, and I brought your grandbaby!” I watched James, always so stoic and calm, trip over his own dining chair as he scrambled to his feet. He stumbled to the door, his hand trembling on the doorknob for a long time before finally twisting it open. The door swung wide, revealing the woman standing outside. It was Kate—the sister I supposedly “killed” ten years ago.

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My parents raised me with extreme “tough love” since I was a kid. They always said that only in desperate situations can one learn to survive, and only through adversity can one make a comeback. So, in the freezing winters, I scavenged for recyclable cans to pay my rent, getting severe frostbite on my hands. In the summers, I walked miles to save a few dollars on bus fare, ending up with heatstroke. During school, I skipped meals to save money and ruined my stomach. But later, I saw my parents celebrating the birthday of the poor kid who bullied me at school. They held it at a five-star luxury hotel, gifting him a million-dollar luxury watch and a limited-edition supercar. My mother had a look of proud adoration on her face as she spoiled him: “Robert is the most brilliant boy in the world, unlike my own son, who is just fat and stupid.” “Robert, I wish you were my real son!” And on that very same day, which was also my birthday, my parents arrived home late. They brought me cold, ruined leftovers from the banquet and handed me a handwritten card as my birthday present.

Inside the magnificent five-star hotel. Robert, the guy who had been bullying me at school, spitting on me, and dumping trash over my head, was now surrounded by a crowd like a prince. He had a look of pure bliss on his face. “Thank you, Mom and Dad, for planning this amazing birthday party for me. I’m so lucky to have you guys.” Beside him, a woman dressed in a gorgeous designer gown looked at him with adoring eyes. “Robert, having you in our lives is our real blessing.” “You have no idea how fat and stupid my own son is. His grades are always at the bottom of the class.” “I’m too embarrassed to even admit he’s mine. Honestly, I wish you were my biological son.” Next to her, a dignified man in a custom three-piece suit patted Robert on the shoulder, his face full of pride. “Robert is indeed the best! He’s smart, and he looks so handsome.” “Study hard, Robert. Once you graduate, I’ll hand the management of my company over to you.” This wealthy, elite couple was none other than my biological parents. But just this morning, my parents had looked sallow and tired, wearing worn-out clothes from Goodwill. They had looked at me with helpless expressions, saying the family couldn’t afford the $500 fee for my SAT prep class, telling me to figure it out myself. Yet in the blink of an eye, they were gifting a million-dollar watch and a limited-edition sports car to the “underprivileged” student they sponsored. Meanwhile, their own flesh and blood was nothing but an embarrassment in their eyes. Staring at the Snapchat story on my phone screen, I felt a freezing chill run through my body. My chest tightened until it was hard to breathe. Earlier, when Mr. Davis mentioned that Robert was being sponsored by some wealthy philanthropists, I had been so envious. I thought about how struggling our family was. If only I could get sponsored too, it would take the burden off my parents, and I would finally have a quiet place to study. But I never imagined that the wealthy benefactors sponsoring my bully were my own biological parents… Tears streamed down my face. I suddenly remembered that today was my birthday, too. In the morning, my parents told me they had to work overtime tonight and would be home very late. I never expected their “overtime” was celebrating Robert’s birthday, while I, their real son, was completely forgotten. I dragged my exhausted body to the sofa and waited. It wasn’t until the clock ticked past 2:00 AM that my parents finally unlocked the front door. Their glamorous party outfits were gone. They had changed back into their faded, tattered clothes, and their faces wore the familiar masks of exhaustion. But the strong smell of expensive champagne on their breath was impossible to hide. Seeing me sitting on the sofa, my mother immediately put on a guilt-ridden face. “Ethan, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to miss your birthday.” “My boss kept me late for overtime. But look… I brought you something incredibly delicious!” She spoke like she was presenting a treasure, pulling two plastic takeout boxes from her bag. Inside was a smashed slice of gourmet cake and some cold seafood. I recognized them instantly. They were the leftovers from Robert’s birthday banquet. I suddenly remembered all those times Robert boasted on Snapchat about eating at high-end steakhouses, and how my parents would always happen to bring home “gourmet treats” for me later that night. It turned out that the “luxury meals” I cherished were just the scraps left behind by my bully. My throat tightened, and my eyes stung. I choked out, “No thanks, I’m not hungry.” My mother frowned in confusion. “Ethan, this is high-end food you’ve never even tasted before! Are you sure you don’t want any?” I couldn’t blame her for being confused. In the past, if I saw food like this, my eyes would have lit up, and I would have eagerly shared it with them. But now, I just shook my head. My mother’s face immediately fell into an expression of deep hurt. “Ethan, are you still blaming us for missing your birthday?” “We work ourselves to the bone every single day just to give you a better life!” She sounded so earnest, but it only made me want to laugh. To give me a better life? They clearly already had a luxurious life, but it wasn’t for me. It was for Robert. While their biological son couldn’t even afford a high school prep course. Seeing me smile, my parents assumed I had listened to their lecture and accepted their apology. They both let out a sigh of relief. Then, they mysteriously pulled a small gift box from their bag. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. You’re another year older.” My mom opened the box. Inside was a long, handwritten card. My dad cleared his throat and began to read aloud with dramatic emotion. “To Ethan: Remember what we always teach you. A man must be self-reliant. Only in desperate situations can you learn to survive, and only through adversity can you make your comeback…” Listening to his voice, and comparing it to how they treated Robert, I felt nothing but mockery. As they read the card, the pain in my chest became unbearable, and tears flowed freely down my cheeks. My parents took my tears as a sign of being deeply moved and wrapped me in a tight embrace.

That night, I cried for a very long time. Eventually, in my hazy state of mind, I tried to convince myself. My parents might treat Robert better than me, and they might have denied me material comforts, but I was still their biological son. They had to love me. Why else would they go through the trouble of hiding their wealth and putting on a show in front of me? In my heart, I decided to give them three chances. If they showed me even a sliver of genuine love, I would forgive their favoritism. The next morning, I gathered my courage and spoke to them during breakfast. “Mom, Dad, Mr. Davis said the SAT prep course starts next week. Everyone has to pay $500.” I had actually brought this up multiple times before. Because the fee was unpaid, Mr. Davis had been giving me the cold shoulder at school. But every time, my parents brushed me off with excuses, telling me to find a way myself. Sure enough, hearing this, my dad’s face sank into the same helpless, miserable expression from a few days ago. My mother sighed, looking incredibly troubled. “Ethan, we just don’t have that kind of money.” “Look at how bad the economy is right now. It’s hard enough just putting food on the table. Where would we find spare cash for some prep course?” “Exactly,” my dad chimed in. “Ethan, you’re practically an adult now. You need to understand how hard we have it. You’ll have to figure out this money on your own.” In the past, whenever I asked for money, I would feel overwhelmed with guilt, believing I was placing an unbearable burden on our struggling family. So, I would take on part-time washing jobs and collect cans to scrape together whatever I could. But now, looking at their fake, pathetic faces, I felt a wave of pure disgust. They didn’t hesitate for a second to buy Robert a luxury watch and a supercar, but they wouldn’t spare a single dime for my education. I couldn’t help but raise my voice. “I’m a high school student! I don’t even get an allowance! How am I supposed to ‘figure it out’?” They both froze, clearly shocked that their usually quiet, obedient son was suddenly snapping at them. My dad was the first to recover. “Ethan! How dare you speak to us like that? Is this how we raised you? Have you forgotten everything we taught you about self-reliance?” No, I hadn’t forgotten. They had been teaching me “self-reliance” since I could walk. When I was barely two years old, my dad wanted to make sure I learned to walk properly, so he left me at the bottom of our apartment stairs and made me climb up to the tenth floor by myself. I had cried and stumbled all the way up, my knees bleeding by the time I reached the door. When I was in middle school, they told me I couldn’t live and eat for free, forcing me to pay them $20 a week for “room and board.” To get that money, I scavenged for recyclable cans in freezing winters, getting severe frostbite on my hands that still scarred over every year. There were countless other instances. Before, I truly believed they did it to build my character. Now, it just felt like a sick joke. Robert didn’t have to lift a finger, yet he received all their love and a lavish lifestyle. No matter how hard I tried, I could never be good enough for them. Thinking of this, tears of sheer frustration welled up in my eyes. Why? I was their real child! Seeing my expression, my mother quickly changed her tone. “Ethan, we can give you the money. But you have to sign a promissory note.” A promissory note. An I.O.U. That was indeed something my parents would do. Since I wasn’t Robert, I didn’t deserve their unconditional support. But in the end, I agreed. I wanted to do well in the final stretch before the exams. I wanted to do it for my own future, and maybe, just maybe, to make them look at me with respect.

After bringing the money to school, I was cornered again in the alley behind the school by Robert and his gang. They shoved me around, pulled my hair, and spat on me. They grabbed my newly paid prep books and ripped them to shreds, scattering the pages in the dirt. Then, the sky opened up, and a heavy downpour began. Only then did they decide to leave me alone. “Hey, fat boy, I’ll let you off easy today. See you tomorrow,” Robert sneered. On his wrist was the million-dollar watch my parents bought him, and he wore designer sneakers worth thousands. He gave my head a cruel kick, then turned and walked away with a smug laugh. This time, I didn’t try to hide my bruises or clean myself up before going home to keep my parents from worrying. Instead, shivering in the cold rain, I curled up against the brick wall and called them, sobbing. “Mom, Dad… I got jumped at school. They beat me up really badly, and it hurts.” “It’s pouring rain, and I’m freezing and soaked. Can you please come pick me up?” “I’m in the alley behind the school gates.” My mother’s voice over the line sounded deeply annoyed. “Ethan, what kind of joke is this? Why would anyone just jump you for no reason?” “Did you provoke someone?” My dad’s voice echoed in the background. “Exactly. Why would they target you and not anyone else?” “How did we raise you? Don’t go looking for trouble. Do you think our family can afford to pay for any trouble you cause?” Listening to their barrage of accusations, my heart froze over completely. But I still tried to explain. “I didn’t provoke anyone. It was Robe—” My dad cut me off before I could finish the name. “Enough. We are very busy right now. Deal with it yourself.” “We can’t get involved in school drama. You’re a big boy now, Ethan. I’m sure you can handle it.” With that, he hung up. I was left alone in the alley, waiting. Eventually, I dragged myself and my ruined backpack out into the street. Just then, a sleek luxury SUV drove past. Through the rain-streaked window, I saw my parents sitting inside with Robert. They were laughing, looking incredibly happy and warm—a picture of family bliss I had never been allowed to share. By the time I stumbled back to our cramped apartment, it was late, and my parents weren’t home yet. Every bone in my body ached, and my head felt like it was on fire. I collapsed onto the living room sofa and fell into a feverish sleep. When I opened my eyes again, my vision was blurry, and my parents were standing over me, looking frantic. “Ethan! Oh my god, you have a terrible fever! Are you okay? Do you want some water?” My dad looked guilt-ridden. “It’s our fault, Ethan. We were so caught up in work that we couldn’t get to you in time, and you had to walk home in the rain. Don’t worry, I’m taking you to the ER right now.” He bent down to help me up when his phone suddenly rang. My dad glanced at the screen, immediately covered the microphone with his hand, and stepped aside, whispering, “Robert, what’s wrong?” A moment later, his voice spiked with panic. “What? The power went out at the villa? And you tripped and hurt your leg?” Realizing he had yelled, he quickly looked back at me. Seeing me flushed with fever and barely conscious, he let out a subtle sigh of relief. Then, he spoke into the phone, “Robert, don’t worry, buddy. We’re on our way right now.” After hanging up, he and my mom whispered frantically for a few seconds. Then, he came over and shook my shoulder. “Ethan, listen to me. Mom and Dad suddenly have an emergency at work. There’s fever medicine in the cabinet. Take some and get some sleep.” “If you don’t feel better tomorrow, we’ll take you to the clinic, okay?” my dad said, looking incredibly apologetic. They thought I was too delirious with fever to hear them, but I had heard every single word. My dad was worried about Robert. My mom was even more anxious. And so, I was left behind. After all, to them, a simple fever wouldn’t kill me.

Before they left, I mustered all my strength and grabbed my mother’s sleeve, trying to hold onto her one last time. But my mother’s mind was already at Robert’s villa. She hurriedly told me to rest, pulled her sleeve out of my grip, and ran out the door without looking back. The last spark of hope in my chest died. I felt a cold, dead weight settle in my heart. I didn’t see them again until two days later. They offered me a barrage of guilty apologies, but I only gave them flat, emotionless responses. The warmth and eagerness I used to have were completely gone. In the weeks that followed, I threw myself into preparing for the SATs. I stopped asking where they were going, and I stopped seeking their affection. My parents seemed deeply uncomfortable with my sudden distance. They assumed I was just throwing a tantrum over the fever incident, so they tried to buy my affection with cheap gifts and sweet words. One month before the exams, I was studying in the classroom during free period when Robert and a group of guys suddenly kicked the door open. One of his lackeys marched over and kicked my desk over, shouting at the top of his lungs. “You dirty thief! How dare you steal Robert’s watch? Do you have any idea that watch is worth a hundred grand?” The entire classroom turned to look at me. I was stunned and immediately defended myself. “I didn’t steal anything! I’ve been in this classroom the entire day!” Robert sneered. “Oh yeah? Let’s search your bag and find out.” Before I could stop him, a tall guy grabbed my backpack, unzipped it, and dumped everything onto the floor. To my horror, amid the scattered notebooks and prep sheets, a gleaming gold watch rolled out onto the linoleum floor. I froze, my mind going completely blank. How could Robert’s watch be in my bag? I went out of my way to avoid him every single day! And today, I had been studying at my desk the entire morning, except for a quick five-minute bathroom break… Wait. The bathroom break… I looked up at Robert. Sure enough, he was looking back at me with a victorious, mocking smirk. The whispers in the classroom started instantly. “Oh my god, is Ethan really that desperate? Stealing a watch at school?” “I bet he’s the one who stole my fifty bucks last month too!” Listening to the accusations piling up on me, a wave of hot fury rushed to my head. Robert had stolen my parents. He had stolen the life that should have been mine. Why couldn’t he just leave me alone? Did he really have to destroy me completely to be satisfied? Looking at his smug face, I lost control. I lunged forward and slammed my fist right into his jaw, screaming, “I didn’t steal your damn watch! Why are you doing this to me? Why can’t you just leave me alone?!” Robert fell to the floor, but instead of getting angry, he laughed. He leaned close to my ear and whispered: “Why? Because I can’t stand the sight of you. Did you really think your parents loved you?” “Did you actually believe that ‘tough love’ crap was to make you better?” Before I knew about Robert’s existence, I really had believed that. But now… “Let me tell you the truth. They treat you like garbage because you’re fat, ugly, and dumb. Having a son like you is their biggest embarrassment.” “Want to see who they’ll choose between you and me?” Ten minutes later, both Robert and I were sitting in the principal’s office. When the principal called my parents and told them I had stolen a watch and assaulted a student, they coldly told the school to “discipline me as they saw fit” and hung up. But a minute later, when Robert’s homeroom teacher called them, stating that Robert had been injured in an altercation, my parents’ voices erupted with panic and fury. They said they would be there in five minutes. Even though I knew they wouldn’t side with me, a tiny, foolish part of my heart still hoped. Maybe, just this once, they would believe me… but I was destined to be disappointed. The moment my parents burst into the office and saw both of us, their faces paled. Without a single glance at me, they rushed straight to Robert’s side. After listening to the principal’s explanation of the “theft,” my parents turned to me, their faces cold as ice, and demanded I apologize to Robert. I clenched my fists. “I didn’t steal anything. I will not apologize.” But nobody believed me.

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At the family dinner, Chloe suddenly looked at me and asked: “Natasha, do you still hate Cameron for making you take the rap for Louise and go to prison?” I smiled and shook my head. “Not at all. After all, if that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have met my current fiancé.” As I spoke, I casually adjusted my collar, letting the sapphire necklace around my neck catch the light. Then, I pulled out a stack of gold-embossed engagement invitations and handed them to everyone at the table. “My engagement party is next month. I hope you all can make it.” The moment those words left my mouth, the main table went dead silent. Everyone’s eyes instantly locked onto the man who had just crushed his wine glass with his bare hand. His eyes were bloodshot, looking as if he wanted to tear me apart. But I was actually surprised to see him lose his mind like this. “Natasha, what did you just say? Say that again!” The sharp sound of shattering glass echoed through the silent banquet hall. Cameron violently pushed his chair back. Ignoring the glass shards dug deep into his palm, he marched toward me. Blood dripped down his fingers, leaving dark red stains on the expensive carpet. He stared at the invitation in my hand, his eyes filled with terrifying veins, his chest heaving violently. The relatives exchanged uneasy glances, not daring to make a sound. I sat perfectly still, finding his loss of control utterly pathetic. Three years ago, when he forced me into prison, he was cold and calculated. “Is your hearing going bad with age, Cameron?” I slid the last invitation across the table, right in front of him. “I said, I’m getting engaged.” Cameron snatched up the invitation, his eyes locking onto the two names printed side by side. The veins on the back of his hand bulged, his knuckles turning white from his grip. “Kennedy Monroe?” he sneered through clenched teeth. “Natasha, you really are desperate. You’d use any cheap trick just to get back at me.” “Hiring some random guy to play your fiancé and daring to use the Monroe family name? Do you have a death wish?” I picked up my teacup, took a calm sip, and spoke in a flat voice. “Whether it’s an act or not, you can come and see for yourself next month.” Cameron slammed the invitation onto the table and leaned in close, looming over me. The familiar scent of cedar cologne on him only made me feel sick now. “Natasha, stop throwing tantrums. There’s a limit to my patience.” “You’ve been out of prison for two weeks. Haven’t I been accommodating enough?” “I bought you a house, a car. And you still choose to embarrass yourself in front of my entire family?” His tone carried a sickening, patronizing pity, as if I were just a pet throwing a childish fit. I raised my eyes to meet his angry glare. “Cameron, do you honestly think that because I spent three years in prison for Louise, I’m chained to you like a dog for the rest of my life?” At the mention of “Louise,” Cameron’s face darkened instantly. Before he could speak, a delicate, fragile voice echoed from the entrance of the hall. “Natasha, please stop using this to hurt Cameron.” Louise walked in, wearing a pure white haute couture dress. She looked like a spotless white lotus. She naturally wrapped her arm around Cameron’s, pulling out a handkerchief to gently wipe the blood from his hand. “Cameron is only doing what’s best for you. You just got out of prison. With a criminal record, what decent man would ever marry you?” She turned to look at me, a flash of smugness in her eyes. “That necklace… it’s a cheap knockoff, isn’t it?” “If you’re really that broke, or just want to show off, you could have asked us. There’s no need to buy fake jewelry.” The relatives immediately began whispering, their eyes filled with disdain. “Exactly. Who would want a woman who’s been to prison?” “Showing off a fake necklace… how embarrassing.” I stared at Louise’s hypocritical act, feeling a wave of disgust. Three years ago, she was the one who committed the hit-and-run. Yet now, she stood here, glamorous and shining, mocking the scapegoat who took her place. Cameron held Louise’s hand and looked down at me coldly. “Take that necklace off. Stop embarrassing yourself.” I gently touched the sapphire necklace. Kennedy had put it around my neck himself last night. “Make sure to bring your precious Louise with you, Cameron. Don’t be late for the wedding toast.”

“Do you really think buying a fake necklace will get my attention?” Cameron let out a cold laugh, his voice filled with arrogance. “Natasha, I’m giving you one last chance. Leave with me now, and I’ll pretend none of this happened.” Looking at his self-righteous face, I found the whole situation hilarious. I ignored him, grabbed my bag, and walked toward the exit, ignoring the whispers of the crowd. Behind me, Cameron’s voice boomed, thick with suppressed rage. “Natasha! If you walk out that door today, don’t you dare come crawling back to me on your knees!” I didn’t stop. Without looking back, I pushed open the heavy doors. The cool night wind swept over me, washing away the suffocating air of the banquet hall. While waiting for my ride, my mind drifted back to that rainy night three years ago. That night, Cameron had banged on my apartment door, dripping wet. He fell to his knees, his eyes red and his voice trembling. “Natasha, Louise hit someone with her car. The victim is in critical condition.” “She has severe clinical depression. If she goes to prison, she won’t survive.” “Please help her. Just this once.” I was too shocked to speak, staring at the man I had loved for five years. “Cameron, you want me to take the fall for her?” He grabbed my hand tightly, like a drowning man clutching a straw. “The security cameras were down, and only the two of you were in the car area. As long as you confess you were driving…” “I promise, I’ll hire the best lawyers to get you out in six months.” “Once you’re out, we’ll get married. You’ll be Mrs. Franklin.” I was so foolish back then. For his empty promise and his desperate tears, I nodded. But instead of six months, I got three years of living in hell. Inside, I didn’t just lose my freedom. I lost the one thing I cherished most. A black Maybach pulled up silently in front of me, cutting my memories short. The window rolled down, revealing Cameron’s gloomy face. “Get in,” he commanded. I took a step back, keeping my distance. “Is there something you need, Mr. Franklin?” Cameron frowned, clearly annoyed by my coldness. “Haven’t you had enough? Must you make a scene on the street?” “I’ve arranged a condo for you downtown. Report to the logistics department at Franklin Enterprises tomorrow.” “Louise is kind-hearted. She felt bad for you, so she begged me to find you a decent job.” Hearing that, I wanted to laugh out loud. Working as a cleaning lady at Franklin Enterprises, and I was supposed to thank Louise for it? “No, thank you. I have no interest in your charity, Mr. Franklin.” I turned to leave, but Cameron slammed his car door open, lunging forward to grab my right wrist. An agonizing pain shot from my wrist straight to my chest. My face went pale. I gasped and violently wrenched my hand back. “Let go of me!” Cameron froze, taken aback by my extreme reaction. His frown deepened. “What are you screaming for? I can’t even touch you now?” He had no idea. In that prison, someone had stomped on my right hand, crushing my fingers. I could never play the piano again. Clutching my trembling right hand, I glared at him. “Cameron, my patience has its limits. Get lost.”

“Natasha, don’t push your luck!” Cameron’s face turned completely cold, his eyes dark and menacing. “Look at yourself. Who do you think you are?” “An ex-con with a criminal record. Who else would want you besides me?” “Do you really think a man like Kennedy Monroe would marry you? You’re just a plaything to him.” I looked at his raging face, feeling absolutely nothing. “That is none of your business, Mr. Franklin.” I hailed a passing taxi and slid into the backseat. As the car sped away, I saw Cameron standing under the streetlights in the rearview mirror, his face twisted in anger. The next morning, I went to an interview for an administrative manager position at a multinational firm. The pay and benefits were excellent, and I had aced the written tests and the initial interview. The HR Director, Sarah, was highly impressed and was about to hand me the offer letter. Just then, her office phone rang. She picked it up, listened for a few seconds, and her expression slowly changed. After hanging up, she looked at me with a mixture of pity and regret. “Miss Sinclair, I am terribly sorry. We just received a directive from upper management… We cannot hire you.” My heart sank, but I kept my composure. “May I know why?” Sarah sighed and lowered her voice. “Your background check… Someone powerful called in. They mentioned your criminal record.” “And… they said you crossed someone you shouldn’t have.” I understood immediately. In this city, the only people who had the power and malice to do this were Cameron and Louise. I thanked her politely, took my resume, and walked out of the building. As soon as I reached the lobby, I saw Louise. She was wearing sunglasses and designer heels, flanked by a group of bodyguards. Seeing me, she stopped, took off her sunglasses, and smirked. “Oh, look who it is. Natasha. Looking for a job?” She scanned my faded white shirt with pure contempt. “How did it go? Rejected again?” I stared at her coldly, saying nothing. Louise took two steps closer and whispered in my ear. “Natasha, did you really think you could start over?” “As long as I am in high society, you will never find a decent job in this city.” She chuckled softly, her voice dripping with venom. “I am grateful you went to prison for me. Truly.” “That’s why I asked Cameron to give you some money. Why don’t you take it and crawl back to your hometown? Why stay here and eyesore me?” Looking at her hideous face, I realized Cameron had been completely blind for three years. “Louise, do you really think that with Cameron protecting you, you own this world?” Louise raised an eyebrow, completely unfazed. “Well, crushing you is easier than stepping on an ant.” “Cameron loves me. You were nothing but a convenient shield.” She reached out to pat my cheek, but I slapped her hand away. “Don’t touch me. You’re filthy.” Louise’s face stiffened, but she quickly recovered her arrogant posture. “Enjoy being stubborn while you can, Natasha. Let’s see how long you last.” She put her sunglasses back on and walked away with her entourage. I stood in place, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number I knew by heart. The moment the call connected, I spoke softly. “Are you really sure you can play Mrs. Franklin forever, Louise?”

“Whether I play Mrs. Franklin or not is none of an ex-con’s business.” On the other end of the line, Louise sneered and hung up. In the afternoon, I received a frantic call from the nursing home where my mother was staying. The head nurse sounded extremely anxious. “Miss Sinclair, your mother’s account is overdrawn.” “And the administration just received an order. Your mother must vacate her private ICU suite tomorrow morning.” I took a deep breath, forcing down the burning rage in my chest. “I understand. I’m on my way.” The nursing home was owned by Franklin Enterprises. Back then, to make sure I took the fall quietly, Cameron had promised to provide my mother with the best medical care. Now, he was using my mother’s life to threaten me. When I arrived at the nursing home, Cameron was sitting on a bench outside my mother’s ward. He sat with his legs crossed, playing with a custom lighter, his expression completely detached. He didn’t even look up when I walked over. “Changed your mind?” I stood before him, looking down at his face. “Cameron, leave my family out of this. Don’t you think this is incredibly low?” He snapped the lighter shut, stood up, and stepped into my space, using his height to intimidate me. “Low? Natasha, I’m only taking back what I paid for.” “Since you refuse to be obedient, you have to face the consequences.” Just then, Louise walked down the corridor. She affectionately wrapped her arm around Cameron’s, her eyes landing on the sapphire necklace around my neck. Her eyes lit up instantly. “Oh Cameron, that necklace is so beautiful. I love it.” She pouted like a spoiled child, tugging at his arm. Cameron glanced at me, his tone casual, as if discussing a piece of garbage. “It’s just a knockoff anyway. Since Louise likes it, give it to her. I’ll transfer a hundred thousand dollars to your account.” I instinctively covered the necklace and took a step back. “It’s mine. It’s not for sale.” Louise pouted, acting hurt. “Natasha, don’t be so stingy.” “I’ll give you two hundred thousand. That’s enough to pay for your mother’s medical bills for months.” Seeing me refuse, Cameron’s face darkened instantly. “Natasha, don’t make me repeat myself.” “Your mother’s ICU room, her imported medication… everything depends on my mood.” “Take the necklace off and give it to Louise.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a deadly threat. Staring at the two of them, I felt my blood run cold. I clenched my teeth, my trembling hands slowly reaching behind my neck to unclasp the necklace. A triumphant gleam flashed in Louise’s eyes, and she reached out to grab it. But the moment her fingertips touched the chain, she gasped and let go. The priceless sapphire necklace fell onto the hard marble floor. It didn’t shatter, but it made a heavy, dull sound. Louise covered her mouth, putting on an innocent act. “Oops, my hand slipped.” She looked down at the necklace, her eyes filled with malicious joy. “Since it’s on the floor, I might as well step on it. You won’t mind, will you, Natasha?” With that, she raised her sharp stiletto heel, aiming straight for the sapphire. “Don’t you dare!” I screamed. Just as her heel was about to crush it, a cold, commanding voice echoed from the end of the hallway. “Step on it? Go ahead and try.”

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It was the third month after Leo and I got our marriage license at City Hall. He was working late more and more often. I didn’t think much of it. Until that day, when I decided to surprise him by bringing lunch to his office. The receptionist smiled at me. “Mr. Osman is in the conference room, Liz. You can wait here.” The conference room door was slightly ajar. There was no meeting inside. Only Leo and a woman sitting opposite each other. She was crying. The way he handed her a tissue—gentle, slow—was exactly the way he used to comfort me. I stood at the door, holding the Tupperware of lunch I had made him. He looked up and saw me. Panic flashed in his eyes for a split second before he quickly stood up. “Liz, she’s a new hire. She’s going through some family trouble—” I forced a smile and set the Tupperware on the table. “It’s fine.” Then I looked at the girl and said softly, “You should use these tissues instead. The ones in his pocket are mint-scented. I put them there this morning. You might not like the smell.” With that, I turned around and walked away. As the elevator doors closed, I heard him calling my name from down the hall. I didn’t look back. I just reached down, slipped the ring off my left ring finger, and left it on the ledge of the fire hose cabinet next to the elevator buttons.

“Sir, could you pull over here, please?” The Uber driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror but didn’t ask any questions. The car stopped. I pushed the door open, crouched by the roadside flowerbed, and dry-heaved. Nothing came out. I hadn’t eaten breakfast, and lunch was left on that conference room table. My phone buzzed for the nineteenth time. Leo’s name kept lighting up the screen like a broken bulb that wouldn’t go out. I declined the call, stood up, and told the driver to keep going. When I got home and opened the door, the scent of the oxtail soup I had simmered last night hit me. Inside the fridge, seven meal-prep containers were stacked neatly, labeled Monday through Sunday with the dish names and microwave times. I took them out, one by one, popped the lids, and dumped them into the trash. The soup splashed onto the back of my hand, burning hot. I didn’t even wipe it off. My phone rang again. A FaceTime call this time. I turned it off. On the entryway console table lay Leo’s spare key. I picked it up, clenching it in my fist until the cold metal dug painfully into my palm. Then I sat on the couch, staring at the living room ceiling, from four in the afternoon until the sky turned pitch black. The sound of the lock turning. Leo was home. “Liz?” he called out as he kicked off his shoes at the entrance. I didn’t answer. He walked into the living room, saw me sitting in the dark, and flipped the light switch. “Why are you sitting in the dark? Is your phone dead? I called you over twenty times.” “Yeah.” He sat down across from me. He was still wearing his light blue dress shirt, the top button undone. I smelled it. It wasn’t mint. It was jasmine. Faint, lingering on his right cuff. It must have rubbed off when that girl got too close to him. “Liz, let me explain.” His tone was identical to the one he used in the conference room this afternoon. Even the pauses were the same. “Her name is Sammy. She just graduated this year, and her family situation is a mess. Her parents are getting a divorce.” “She doesn’t have any friends here. As her department head, I—” “When did you start caring so much about her?” He paused. “Since she started last month.” “Last month,” I repeated. “And your overtime started getting worse last month, too.” “That was because of the end-of-quarter rush—” “Leo Osman.” When I used his full name, he shut his mouth. “The way you hand over a tissue. You pinch the edge with your thumb and index finger, then gently slide it over.” “When you were pursuing me, the first time I cried in the movie theater, you did that exact same thing.” The calm expression on his face cracked. “You told me that was a gesture reserved only for me.” He opened his mouth, but no words came out. I stood up and placed his spare key on the coffee table. “I locked the bedroom door. You’re sleeping in the guest room tonight.” “Liz—” “Goodnight.” I walked into the bedroom and locked the door behind me. I slid down against the door, sitting on the cold floor. It was quiet outside for a long time. Then his voice came through the door, muffled and heavy. “You’re overreacting.” I didn’t reply. He spoke again. “We are strictly colleagues. If you’re going to make a scene out of nothing, we can’t even talk.” I looked up at the ceiling. Then I spoke, my voice barely a whisper. “The way you handed her that tissue was exactly how you used to do it for me.” “Goodnight, Leo.”

“Did you sleep at all last night? Your dark circles are terrible.” Harper pushed a cup of coffee toward me, staring at my face. “I’m fine. Just some insomnia lately.” She didn’t pry. Instead, she started complaining about how her husband stuffed too many clothes into the washing machine yesterday, causing the door to pop open and blast soapy water all over her face. I listened and managed a small laugh. My phone buzzed inside my bag. I didn’t check it. Harper stopped mid-sentence. “Aren’t you going to check that? What if it’s Leo?” “He’s at work. He doesn’t call at this hour.” “Oh,” she said, continuing her story. As I took a sip of my coffee, I glanced down at my screen. It wasn’t Leo. It was a text from an unknown number: Liz, I am so sorry about yesterday. I really don’t want to come between you and Mr. Osman. — Sammy How did she get my number? The question bounced around my head twice before the obvious answer hit me. Either Leo gave it to her, or she took it from his phone. Either way, it meant they were much closer than he was letting on. I deleted the text. After parting ways with Harper, I went back to my office. At three in the afternoon, Leo sent a WhatsApp message: I’m coming home early tonight. I’ll make dinner. I replied with a simple, Okay. When I got home, there were four dishes on the table and a bouquet of pink carnations sitting in a vase in the entryway. Leo popped his head out of the kitchen, wearing an apron. “Try the grilled salmon. You said you wanted it last week.” I sat down and took a bite. It tasted good. He watched me eat from across the table, his eyes filled with a cautious anxiety. “Liz, about yesterday… I had a bad attitude. I shouldn’t have said you were making a scene.” “Okay.” “In the future, if something’s bothering you, just tell me. Don’t turn off your phone. I worry when I can’t reach you.” “Sure.” He let out a sigh of relief. It was a fleeting expression, but I caught it. He wasn’t relieved because he had made things right with me. He was relieved because he thought this chapter was closed. After dinner, he went to do the dishes. I sat on the couch and picked up his car keys. I didn’t have a specific plan; it was just an instinctive reaction. But then I remembered something. Last weekend, he said he took the car to the car wash. When he came back, the passenger seat’s position had changed. I’m 5’7″. The seat was adjusted for someone around 5’3″. I hadn’t thought much of it then. Now, I did. I put the keys back. Leo walked out of the kitchen, wiping his hands, and saw me spacing out. “What are you thinking about?” “When you got the car washed last week, did the detailers adjust the passenger seat?” His hands paused mid-wipe. “Probably. They have to clean the interior, so they move things around.” “Oh.” I nodded and dropped the subject. He walked over, sat next to me, and put his arm around my shoulder. I didn’t pull away, but I didn’t lean into him either. His hand on my shoulder felt incredibly light. In the past, when he held me, he would pull me tightly into his chest. Now, this touch felt like he was merely trying to pacify a difficult client. Later that night, he went to take a shower first. I picked up his phone from the couch. It wasn’t locked. He had never set a passcode on his phone, from the day we started dating until now. I used to think it was a sign of trust. Now, I wasn’t so sure. The first pinned chat on his WhatsApp was me, the second was his mom, and the third was a work group. I scrolled through his chats. There was no thread with Sammy. He had deleted it. The sound of the shower stopped. I put the phone back exactly where it was. He stepped out, his hair still wet, and glanced at me. “Aren’t you going to shower?” “Going now.” I stood up. As I passed him, the scent of the sandalwood body wash I bought him washed over me. Squeaky clean. No traces of anything else. But I knew that deleted chats, just like washed-off jasmine perfume, didn’t mean they never existed. He just didn’t want me to see them.

“Mrs. Osman, we haven’t seen you in a while!” The supermarket cashier greeted me warmly. She knew me because during our first month of marriage, I came here almost every day to buy groceries. But then I stopped coming. Leo said he had too many business dinners and came home too late, so I shouldn’t waste time cooking. I smiled and pushed my cart forward. My phone rang. It was Harper. “Liz, is that colleague of your husband’s named Sammy?” My hand on the shopping cart froze. “How do you know?” “My husband’s Instagram. He and Leo have a mutual friend.” “A photo was posted yesterday from some business gala. Leo was standing next to this young girl, and she was holding his suit jacket.” “The caption said: Mr. Osman is so thoughtful. Sammy caught a cold, so he lent her his jacket.” I stood in front of the frozen food aisle, the cold air blasting onto my face. “Screenshot it and send it to me.” Three seconds later, the picture popped up. In the photo, Leo was in his white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. The girl next to him was clutching his dark gray suit jacket. Her head was tilted slightly, a shy smile on her face. She was very young, with a round face and bangs. She looked barely twenty-two. The way she held his jacket made it look like the most precious thing in the world. Harper waited a few seconds. “Are you okay?” “I’m fine.” “Liz, let me tell you, this whole thing—” “I know.” I hung up and saved the screenshot to my hidden album. Then I sent Leo a text: It’s getting cold tonight. Did you bring your jacket? He replied instantly: Yeah, I have it. Bundle up yourself. I didn’t reply. He said he had it, but his jacket was in someone else’s hands. He came home around nine-thirty, carrying a bakery box. “I passed by that bakery you like. I remember you saying their cheesecake is great.” I opened the box and cut a slice for him. “How was the business gala today?” His fork paused halfway to his mouth. “What gala?” “Your colleague posted on Instagram.” Silence fell over the room. He set his fork down and looked at me. “Are you keeping tabs on me now?” When he said that, his eyes turned cold. It wasn’t guilt. It was annoyance. “I’m not. Harper saw it,” I said, my voice incredibly flat. “Did you lend your jacket out? You told me you had it with you when it got cold.” “It’s just a jacket, Liz. She was sick. You don’t need to go this far—” “Go this far to do what?” He didn’t answer. I looked down and took a bite of the cheesecake. It was sweet, too sweet. It actually made me feel a bit sick. “Leo, when did you start thinking that me asking a simple question is ‘going too far’?” He rubbed his temples. “Liz, I don’t want to fight.” “Neither do I.” I put the cake down. “So just answer me one question—the day you got your car washed last week, who sat in the passenger seat?” His face stiffened. It was only for a second, then he recovered his composure. “Nobody. I told you, the detailers—” “I adjusted my seat back to my height. Before I left the house today, I checked it again. It was lowered. You didn’t get your car washed today.” The living room fell into a dead silence for five full seconds. Leo stood up abruptly, tossing his fork onto the plate with a loud clatter. “What are you trying to do, Liz? Watching every little detail like a hawk. Is this fun for you?” “No, it’s not.” I stood up too and closed the bakery box. “It’s not fun at all.” His lips trembled, but he said nothing. He turned and walked into the guest room, slamming the door. The sound wasn’t deafening, but it was clear. I stood alone in the living room, looking down at the cake box. Cheesecake. The bakery I told him I liked had relocated two weeks ago. This cake wasn’t from there. He had either forgotten, or he never bothered to care in the first place.

“Are you home? I came by to see you.” Eleanor, Leo’s mom, stood at the door carrying a bag of fruit and some steaks. I let her in and poured her a cup of tea. She sat on the couch and looked around, her eyes lingering on the coat rack. “Why are Leo’s coats hanging outside the guest room? Are you two… having a fight?” “No. He’s been working a lot of overtime lately and didn’t want to wake me up when he gets back late, so he’s sleeping there.” She nodded, but her expression didn’t soften completely. “Liz, you two have been married for three months now. When are you going to start a family? You should have babies while you’re still young.” My hand holding the teacup remained perfectly still. “We’re in no rush, Eleanor. We want to wait a bit.” “Wait for what? Leo is already thirty. His father always wanted to see a grandchild before he passed…” Her voice was gentle but carried that nagging, persistent pressure. I kept a polite smile on my face, like a mask. As Eleanor was putting on her shoes at the door to leave, her gaze swept over the shoe rack. She paused. “Liz, are these white sneakers yours?” I looked over. On the bottom shelf was a pair of small, white sneakers. Size 6. I wear a size 8.

“No, they’re not mine.” The moment the words left my mouth, I froze. Eleanor gave an awkward laugh. “Oh, maybe a friend left them here.” “Maybe.” I saw her out, then crouched in front of the shoe rack. The soles of the shoes were very clean, barely worn. On the inner label, there was a small set of initials written in black Sharpie: S.O. Sammy. She had been in this house. While I was away. I took a picture of the shoes and saved it. Then I put them back exactly where they were, not moving them even a millimeter. That evening, Leo came home while I was cooking. He changed his shoes and walked into the kitchen, standing behind me. “My mom came by today?” “Yeah. She brought some steaks.” “What did she say?” “She asked when we’re having kids.” He was quiet for a couple of seconds before sitting down at the dining table. As I brought the food out, I casually remarked, “There’s a pair of white sneakers on the bottom shelf of the shoe rack. Size 6. They aren’t mine.” “Check if one of your female colleagues left them behind.” He was pouring water. His hand shook, spilling some onto the counter. “Oh… we had a team dinner here last time. Someone probably forgot them.” “You had a team dinner at our place?” “Just once. You were working late that night.” I didn’t recall ever working so late that I didn’t come home. My job never required overtime, and Leo knew that. But I didn’t call him out. I sat down and took a bite of my food, chewing slowly. He sat opposite me, not touching his plate. “Liz.” “Yeah?” “Lately… have you been looking for reasons to find fault with me?” I looked up at him. “I’m not looking for them, Leo. They are just showing up on their own.” His throat bobbed. “I’ll throw those shoes away tomorrow.” “No need,” I said, looking back down at my food. “Like I said, they aren’t mine. They have nothing to do with me.” After dinner, he retreated to the guest room again. I waited until the door closed, then opened my phone. I opened my hidden folder: the photo from the conference room door, the passenger seat, the Instagram screenshot Harper sent me, the text message from Sammy, and the photo of the size 6 sneakers. One by one, sorted by date, saved in an encrypted album. Then, I dialed a number. “Hello, is this Attorney Vance? I’d like to schedule a consultation regarding filing for divorce.”

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