Author: Momo Chan

Five years after the divorce, I ran into Jason in the designer section of a department store. The sales associate was just finishing boxing up the tie I’d chosen for my husband. Her tone brightened when she saw Jason approach. “Mr. Collins, good to see you. The suit your wife selected for you is ready.” The man gave a slight nod, his gaze lingering on the tie in my hand. “Add hers to my bill.” I politely declined, placing a few bills on the counter. He seemed to sigh. “Ava,” he said, his voice low, “it’s been so many years. You still hate me, don’t you?” I just smiled, saying nothing. Hate him? I didn’t have the time. I had let him go long ago. 1 I took the small shopping bag, dropped it casually into the canvas tote full of groceries, and walked out. The early autumn wind whipped around me. By the time I reached the bus stop, a place etched in my memory, my hair was plastered across my face, stinging my eyes. When I finally pushed the strands away, I saw Jason’s car idling in front of me. He saw my reddened eyes and his brow furrowed. “Get in. I’ll give you a ride.” “No, thank you. I’ll take the bus.” His eyes swept over me, from my simple clothes down to my sensible flats. When his gaze landed on the canvas tote slung over my shoulder, he asked, his voice cautious, “Have you… been doing okay these past few years?” “I’ve been great.” Jason obviously didn’t believe me. “Please, just get in. Let me drive you home.” The bus behind his car was laying on its horn, but he didn’t budge. With everyone staring, I had no choice but to get in. “Serenity Apartments,” I said, giving him the address. The car was silent for a moment before he spoke, his voice strained. “Why are you living there? That place is practically abandoned. It’s not safe for a woman alone, especially with…” He trailed off, unable to finish. But I knew what he was going to say. It was where my mother had died. Ten years ago today, she had refused to attend my wedding to Jason. Instead, she had jumped from the roof of that ten-story building. The back seat was spacious, but the heat was blasting. I cracked the window open. “You’ll catch a cold,” he said immediately. “Close it. If you’re hot, I can turn the temperature down.” I shook my head, a small smile on my face. “That doesn’t happen anymore. But do as you like.” He said nothing more. A moment later, his phone rang, the sound filling the car. “Honey, did you get the suit? Where are you now?” The voice coming through the speakers was familiar, but it held a playful, coquettish tone I’d never heard from her before. “I got it. I just ran into Ava. I’m giving her a ride.” Silence on the other end. “Ava’s back? It’s been so long! Why didn’t you say so? You’re having a reunion without me?” I had known Rosalie for over a decade and had never once heard her speak like that. She had always been quiet, reserved, an artist who poured her entire soul onto the canvas. When someone stole her spot in a competition, all she did was hide and cry. I was the one who had taken a baseball bat to the plagiarist’s entry, written a letter exposing the rigged contest, and spent three days in juvenile detention to get her justice. It’s true what they say. Unconditional love can make a person bloom. “It was just a chance encounter. She has things to do. I’ll be home right after I drop her off.” “But a chance encounter means it’s fate! What’s wrong with buying an old friend dinner?” “Rosalie, stop it.” The other end went quiet. Jason had always been gentle when he was trying to placate someone, but once his mind was made up, no one could change it. Rosalie, of all people, should have known that better than I did. The call was abruptly ended just as the car pulled up to the apartment building. “Thanks,” I said, getting out. Jason’s eyes scanned the dilapidated surroundings before he called out to me. “Ava… can I ask who that tie was for?” “My husband.” He gave a weary smile, rubbing his forehead as if he thought I was just saying it to spite him. “It’s the same brand, the same style you used to buy for me five years ago.” “And?” I met his gaze, my own perfectly calm. “You don’t have to pretend to be strong in front of me. After all this time, all I ever wanted was for you to be happy. Not… like this.” Like what? My reflection in the glass door of the building showed a woman in a casual tracksuit and flats, carrying a tote bag overflowing with groceries. The picture of an ordinary person struggling to make ends meet. But for someone who had grown accustomed to designer clothes and fine jewelry, there was nothing wrong with this picture. I smiled, not the least bit offended. “I think I’m doing just fine.” For a moment, he looked completely lost. “Ava… you’re really not the same person you used to be.” “No,” I said. “A lot of people say that.” I turned and walked away, and this time, I didn’t look back. I climbed the five flights of stairs and unlocked the door. The apartment was exactly as it had been this time last year. My mother’s black-and-white portrait sat next to the old television, the candle in front of it long since extinguished. I expertly replaced it with a new one, tied on an apron, and went into the kitchen. I quickly prepared a simple meal, setting a bowl of rice at the empty place across from me. I ate slowly. “Mom, I saw Jason today.” “Don’t worry, he can’t hurt me anymore. And I’m not as stupid as I used to be.” Only silence answered me. I had no appetite. I put down my chopsticks, went into the bedroom, and pulled out an old photo album. “Let’s look at how beautiful you were. These old black-and-white photos are so boring.” Before I could even open it, a single photograph slipped out and fluttered to the floor. When I bent to pick it up, I saw the faces. Jason. Me. Rosalie. Three young, beaming faces, laughing recklessly for the camera. I was in the middle, my arms linked through theirs, my smile the biggest of all—a gap where my right canine tooth should have been made me look goofy and utterly happy. That was the summer I turned thirteen. Loan sharks had shown up at Jason’s house, screaming and threatening to kill his family. None of the neighbors dared to intervene, not even my parents. But I ran out. The fist that was meant for Jason’s face caught me instead. My tooth shattered on impact. My face was swollen for a month. My mother, her heart aching for me, told me to stay away from the Collins family. But then Jason’s mother, her legs disabled, dragged herself to our house and knelt before my parents, banging her head on the floor as she thanked them. My mother’s heart softened. For the next ten years, there was always an extra bowl and set of chopsticks for Jason at our dinner table. Whenever we got new clothes for the holidays, there was always something for him, too. When my mother wasn’t busy, she’d help his mother with her street stall, and if anyone tried to bully her, my mother would unleash a fury so fierce they’d never dare come back. They called each other sisters. No one could have predicted that the timid, stuttering younger sister would crawl into the older sister’s husband’s bed. I came home to find our apartment destroyed. My mother stood in the middle of the room, sobbing uncontrollably, the five angry red finger marks on her cheek a terrifying sight. My father stood protectively in front of another woman. His mother. “Let’s get a divorce,” my father said. “You can have everything. All I want is Susan.” Jason, who was standing beside me, went pale and reached for his mother’s hand. My mother slapped him. Twice. Hard. I shoved her. She stumbled and fell, staring up at me in disbelief. I was crying too, but my words were like daggers. “Mom, how could you hit Jason?” The memories swirled, a chaotic mess, finally settling on the small photograph in my hand. After Jason and I divorced, I burned everything that had to do with him. I couldn’t believe this one had survived. Just as I was about to toss it in the trash, there was a knock at the door. I assumed it was Mrs. Gable from downstairs, who always stopped by at this time of year. I opened it without thinking. But it was Rosalie, holding onto Jason’s arm. She beamed at me. “Ava! It’s been so long! You haven’t changed a bit.” “Jason couldn’t say no to me. I hope we’re not interrupting, just showing up like this.” I looked at them both, my expression cool. “I won’t invite you in. Is there something you need?” Rosalie, having hit a wall, looked up at Jason with a wounded expression. “Rosalie just wanted to see you,” he said. “She brought you a gift. That’s all.” He stepped forward and placed a bag on the entryway cabinet. Rosalie immediately launched into her sales pitch. “I’ve been using this skincare line, and I absolutely love it. I had an extra set at home, and since we used to share everything, I thought I’d bring it to you.” I glanced down at the box. It looked like the same brand my housekeeper used. “That photo…” Rosalie’s eyes suddenly grew misty. “Ava, after all these years… you still haven’t let go, have you?” I crumpled the photograph in my hand and tossed it into the bin. “Don’t be ridiculous.” She reached for my hand, then stopped, her fingers hovering in mid-air. “I know you’re still holding a grudge. If you and Jason were still together, today would be your anniversary.” “What happened back then… I didn’t have a choice. If you’re really over it, then let us take you out to dinner. And if there’s anything you need, anything we can do to help, please tell us. We’re old friends, after all.” I was about to refuse without a second thought. Suddenly, the candle in front of my mother’s portrait crackled loudly. Pop. A small smile touched my lips. I changed my mind. “Alright.”

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1 I snagged the city’s most eligible billionaire heir with nothing but a seven-dollar latte. That day, when a handsome guy walked into the coffee shop asking to “borrow” a drink just to take a photo, the entire room went silent. I was the only one who handed mine over. My best friend, Mia, was quick to grab my arm, whispering, “Don’t do it. Guy’s probably a nutcase or a scammer.” I didn’t think it was a big deal. The guy shot me a look of genuine gratitude, took my cup, and started filming a video on his phone. “4 PM. Afternoon tea time. Living the affluent life in this clean, high-society circle. A seven-dollar Starbucks latte—an absolute daily necessity for someone of my stature.” As soon as the words left his mouth, the surrounding customers were stunned. A split second later, the shop erupted in laughter. “No way,” someone snickered. “Can’t afford his own coffee, so he borrows someone else’s to flex online? That’s a new low.” Mia threw her hands up helplessly. “See? told you not to lend it. He’s just using your drink to fake a lifestyle.” The guy finished filming, handed the coffee back to me, and spoke with a clean, sincere voice. “Thanks. You really saved me there.” The murmurs and mockery around us were getting louder. I felt a pang of sympathy and, on impulse, blurted out: “I have a coupon. Do you want me to order one for you?” I paused, then added, “You look like you really want some coffee.” The guy stood tall, completely unbothered by the crowd. A smile played on his lips. “No time to drink it right now. How about we exchange contacts? I’ll treat you next time, deal?” I was about to pull up my QR code when Mia grabbed my hand again, anxious. “Don’t add him. Use your head, Serena. Pretty faces are the best liars.” But this time, I ignored her. almost as if guided by a ghost, I scanned his code. “Okay. See you next time.” “See you.” He turned and walked away on long, model-esque legs. I watched his retreating figure, then took a sip of my coffee. Mia was still complaining beside me. “You, seriously. You’re too innocent. You’re going to get played one day. You need to keep your guard up.” Mia didn’t know. That “scammer” was Lucas Sterling. The heir to the Sterling empire. The richest, most untouchable scion in the entire elite circle. 2 Inside a private hotel suite, Lucas Sterling tore off his jacket and tossed it onto the sofa, his face twisted in disgust. “That Truth or Dare challenge was ridiculous. Who came up with ‘borrow a stranger’s drink to film a flex video’? It was humiliating.” The room erupted in laughter. “Hey, you lost the game, Lucas! Sebastian had to go film a breakup video by the elevators earlier. We’re all suffering here.” “Come on, let’s see the video!” The group huddled around the phone screen. “I’m dying! Lucas, look at that smug expression. You look so punchable, it’s incredible.” “Wait, who’s the girl in the frame? She’s actually really pretty.” Hearing this, the tips of Lucas’s ears turned a faint shade of pink. His fingers absently traced the rim of his glass. “Just a kind stranger. The whole coffee shop was staring, and she was the only one willing to lend me her drink.” The boys immediately started jeering. “Oho? Do I detect a little crush?” Lucas rolled his eyes at them, glancing down at our chat interface. “Get lost. Stop talking nonsense.” 3 Two days ago, I learned the truth about my birth. I was the fake heiress of the Joyner family. They had found their biological daughter. My adoptive parents gave me an ultimatum: leave with dignity, or be thrown out without it. Today was the deadline. I silently packed my suitcase. Dragging my heavy feet to the door, I found my path blocked by Chloe Joyner. “Don’t even think about taking anything that belongs to this family,” she said, her face twisted with arrogance. She kicked my suitcase over, sending it sprawling. She rummaged through it, snatching up the bracelets, necklaces, and jewelry the Joyners had given me over the years, piling them onto the floor. Only my messy clothes remained. “I don’t want the clothes you’ve worn. Take those rags and get the hell out.” I looked toward the sofa. My parents sat there, watching everything unfold, making no move to stop her. My brother, Xavier, who used to dote on me, sat with his laptop, typing away. He didn’t even spare me a glance. Humiliation burned in my chest. I silently repacked my clothes. I took one last look at them and said, enunciating every word: “I will never, ever come back.” Even if they begged me on their knees one day, my heart would not soften. I was temporarily crashing at Mia’s place. She was applying makeup in the mirror, comforting me between strokes of mascara. “Oh, don’t be so sad. Isn’t it fun living with me? Just the two of us. As long as my parents aren’t home, no one will bother us.” It wasn’t a long-term solution. Mia accepted me, but her parents didn’t welcome a fallen heiress. Mia always said I was innocent, but in reality, she was the pure one. I knew how to calculate better than anyone. A fire burned deep within me. I wanted everyone who hurt me to regret it. Meeting Lucas Sterling at the coffee shop yesterday wasn’t just an accident; it was an opportunity. Lucas had just returned from studying abroad. His heart was still sincere; he hadn’t been corrupted by the cynical playboy lifestyle of the local elite yet. Maybe he could help me achieve what I wanted. Or maybe, I could use him. I thanked God for giving me a beautiful face. It might be the only card I had left to play. 4 On the third day, Lucas sent me a message. Lucas: [Does that offer to let me treat you to coffee still stand? I’m craving it now. You have to let me pay this time.] I stared at the screen, the corners of my mouth lifting. Serena: [Of course it stands. Same place. 4 PM. I’ll wait for you.] As soon as I walked into the coffee shop, I sensed something was off. Too many people were stealing glances at me. Some held books upside down; others peered over newspapers; a few were blatantly peeking from behind potted plants. Lucas was already waiting. When he saw me enter, he gave a deliberate cough. Immediately, the eavesdroppers straightened up, pretending to be busy. Lucas’s ears were red. I understood instantly. These were his rich friends, here to watch the show. I walked over calmly and sat opposite him. I had worn a white dress today—modest in the front, but with a tasteful open back that hinted at allure. “I haven’t asked your name yet,” I said softly. Lucas seemed nervous. He cleared his throat. “Lu… Luke.” I extended my hand, smiling. “I’m Serena Joyner.” Lucas tried to maintain his cool-guy persona, but the flush spreading across his ears betrayed him. Around us, his friends were grinning like idiots. I caught Lucas mouthing “Get lost” in their direction when he thought I wasn’t looking. It seemed that cup of coffee was a worthy investment. He was easier to approach than I had imagined. After coffee, we parted ways. I stood at the bus stop, and faintly, I heard Lucas roaring in the distance: “Who told you guys to follow me?! Who?! I wanted a private date, do you understand? Five or six third wheels… are you trying to keep me single forever?” I waited for the bus. It took a long time. I used to have a driver. The disparity in life stung. Right now, Chloe must be living the good life in my old home. It started to rain. By the time I got back, I was soaked. Mia handed me a towel. “Where have you been running around all day? You’re drenched.” She was so kind. So attentive. My throat tightened, but I held back the tears. I, Serena Joyner, had lived nineteen years, and in the end, all I had was one best friend, a pitiful bank balance, and a nineteen-year-old body. Lucas began messaging me frequently. He shared the mundane trivia of his high-society life. Lucas: [We have banquets every day. So boring. I miss drinking Starbucks with you. Can I invite you again?] In the photos he sent, I saw Chloe. She was surrounded by my parents, holding a champagne flute, laughing brightly. The gala was high-end. He didn’t try to hide his wealth, but he sent a photo of his long legs stretched out. Lucas: [Stood for so long. So tired.] I played along. Serena: [Your legs are so long. I thought you looked tall that day. Are you over 6 feet?] Lucas: [6’1″. Barefoot.] I could imagine him sitting on a sofa somewhere, smiling smugly at his phone. 5 Some people are truly easy to coax. But some people don’t need to do any coaxing to get everything I never had. Like Chloe. She had a terrible temper and didn’t hide it, yet she was spoiled rotten. I was different. My father had raised me with strict discipline. Just as he was about to publicly introduce me to society, Chloe returned and seamlessly took my place. I only found out a few days ago that my parents had known for a long time I wasn’t their biological daughter. No wonder when I got perfect scores or reached Level 10 in piano, despite my desperate efforts, they were never that happy. My brother, who used to love me most, now only had eyes for Chloe. I was the unwanted one. Except for Mia, nobody wanted me. So, I had to fight for myself. Lucas: [It’s a good thing I have you to talk to, otherwise this party would kill me.] Serena: [What party? Can’t you skip it?] Lucas: [It’s the inheritance ceremony for the daughter of the Joyner Group, Chloe Joyner. Mandatory attendance.] Chloe’s inheritance ceremony? My phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor. Nearly two decades of nurturing couldn’t compare to blood. I knew that. Lucas: [What happened? heard a loud bang.] Serena: [Dropped my phone. It hurts a little. But why do you have to go? A generic guy like you getting invited to such a big event?] Lucas is typing… Lucas: [Hehe, I snuck in as a waiter. Do you want anything to eat? I can steal you a slice of cake.] Serena: [You’re amazing, sneaking in like that. Can you bring me a piece of strawberry cake? I’m craving it.] Lucas: [No problem.] We set a time to meet. I looked at my cracked screen, heart aching. I couldn’t just buy a new phone whenever I wanted anymore. Life was tight. I had to speed up the plan. I decided that during this meeting, I would hook Lucas for good. I went to the convenience store to buy a few things. I never made it. A familiar Porsche Cayenne pulled up in front of the store. My brother, Xavier Joyner, stepped out. He opened the passenger door and helped out Chloe, who was dressed like a princess. “Xavier, this place is so run-down and dirty. I don’t want to be here.” Xavier gently held her hand, fixing her slightly messy, diamond-encrusted hair clip. “We’re just here to warn Mia Thorne not to meddle. Bear with it, Chloe.” Mia Thorne was my best friend. The girl who took me in. My eyes turned red. Warn her? Because she gave me shelter? Xavier… Brother… are you really going to be this cruel? Why?! Because of Chloe? The abandoned daughter is treated like grass to be trampled on. I believed it now. I texted Mia: Serena: [Tell my brother I died in a ditch somewhere. I won’t come to you again. And I won’t interfere with him and his precious sister.] I crouched at the entrance of the alley. I waited a long time until that familiar Cayenne drove away. Mia’s family was well-off, but they were constrained by the massive influence of the Joyner family. When I walked into Mia’s house to get my things, her father looked at me coldly. Her mother looked disgusted. Mia stood awkwardly in the middle. “Serena, I…” I forced a smile and grabbed my suitcase. Before leaving, I bowed deeply to them. “I am very sorry and very grateful. I won’t disturb you again.” 6 I was completely alone. I squatted on the curb, my suitcase beside me, counting the teardrops smashing onto the clean concrete, blooming into dark water stains. I checked my phone. 99+ unread messages. I thought it would be Xavier regretting his actions, or Chloe mocking me. Unexpectedly, it was Lucas. I had almost forgotten about him. Lucas: [Serena, I’m here. 30 minutes early.] Lucas: [Holy crap, I just saw an ant choke on food, and two other ants patted its back. Nature is wild.] Two hours later. Lucas: [Are you here yet?] Lucas: [Girls take time to do makeup, I know. Take your time.] Lucas: [I dressed really handsome today. Hehe.] Lucas: [Bought you ice cream. Waiting to eat it with you.] Another hour later. Lucas: [Where are you?] Lucas: [Don’t want to talk to me anymore?] Lucas: [The ice cream melted. I ate it.] Lucas: [Serena, next time I’ll take you to Starbucks instead, okay?] Several missed calls. Lucas: [Where are you? Did something happen? I’m waiting right here. Reply with a 1.] I messily wiped the tears from my face. Serena: [Sorry, Luke. Something happened at home. I have to cancel.] Serena: [Eat the cake for me.] Serena: [Sorry for making you wait so long.] I dragged my suitcase, walking aimlessly. If I asked to stay at Lucas’s place, he surely wouldn’t refuse. But… I didn’t want to. Running to him now would make me cheap. Being abandoned by parents, being driven to extinction by the brother who used to love me… it hurt too much. Mia called me. I composed myself and answered with a smile. “I’m staying at a hotel, a nice suite. I’ll worry about tomorrow when it comes. We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it, right?” Mia was silent for a moment. “Serena Joyner, you are sitting on the curb. I am watching you.” “My parents are uncontrollable, but I am me. I can help you.” I turned around. 7 Mia was staring at me. She placed a key on top of my suitcase. “My dad gave me this apartment key years ago. Serena, stand up.” Nineteen years old. A confusing, ignorant age. Yet Mia stood before me like an adult. It made me feel suddenly heartbroken and brave. “Thank you.” She helped me pull the suitcase. “Don’t get polite with me.” On the way to the apartment, sitting in the car, I saw a figure sitting on a bench by the park. A small cake box rested on his long legs. He was staring at his phone screen. Unblinking. Lucas. The apartment Mia’s father rented long-term hadn’t been cleaned in ages. Mia stayed and helped me scrub the place for three hours. She was a rich girl too. Neither of us was good at this. I wanted to hire a cleaner, but looking at my empty balance, I closed my phone. Lucas stopped spamming messages, but the count was already high. After cleaning, Mia left. “I have to go. Can’t stay out overnight. Call me if you need anything.” “Okay.” I sat on the bed, hugging a pillow. I used to have strict curfews too. My parents never let me stay out. But now, even if I invited eight men to this rental, my parents and brother wouldn’t spare me a glance. After all, Chloe was their real princess. I started a video call with Lucas. He practically bounced off his bed in excitement. “I thought you hated me. Thought you were ignoring me.” “You said something happened at home? Do you need help?” “Just ask. I can do anything.” “You lent me a coffee. I should repay you.” “I really thought you were ghosting me.” One second he was posting “Heartbroken” on his feed, the next he was sending “Absolutely Not” happy dog memes. Only someone raised in a loving family and a loving environment could grow up like this. Strangers. A vast difference in status. A person tells you something happened at home and doesn’t reply for hours, then calls. Any other rich heir would think this was a setup. A scheme. Instead of saying: “Whatever help you need, I can give it.” I laid my head on the new $7 pillow. It was soft. No different from the $1,500 pillows at home that were replaced monthly. I looked at Lucas’s eyes. They had the purity and brightness of a recent college grad. “Luke, why did you call me so many times?” “Because I was worried about you.” I replied, “You’re so warm-hearted. Are you this concerned about everyone?” He got a bit flustered, even annoyed. “Only worried about you.” “Really?” I swung my legs playfully. Lucas: “Because to me, you’re different.” I looked into his eyes. “Luke, I want to be your girlfriend. Will you allow it?” Ten, nine, eight… If he didn’t agree, I would give up on the seduction plan. Rich kids aren’t stupid. In the end, I’d only play myself. I’d be tossed on the ground like trash. “Serena Joyner? The arrogant ex-heiress? Just playing around.” “Miss Joyner, you’re fun to play with.” Followed by laughter. My pride wouldn’t allow it. Four, three… I was about to hang up. He finally snapped out of his shock, stuttering, his ears turning instantly crimson. “R-really? Can I? “I do!! I mean, yes!!” I smiled from the bottom of my heart, the exhaustion of the day finally washing over me. “Go to sleep, Luke.” 8 When I woke up the next day, I realized the video call had been running all night. It only cut off when my phone died. Since Lucas accepted me, I had to re-enter his circle as his girlfriend. The Joyner family was big. But not bigger than the Sterlings. He added me to his “Bros” group chat. Lucas: [Ahem. Introducing… my girlfriend.] Serena: [Hello everyone. I’m Serena Joyner.] These were his friends from abroad, so none of them knew me. But soon enough, they would know I was the fake heiress kicked out by the Joyners. We went on a date. I went on an empty stomach. My bank cards were frozen, digital payments locked. All I had was $300 in cash. Chloe had left it for me. She had smashed my piggy bank. “Fifteen thousand dollars? Haha. Serena, did you think you could take this? This is mine.” She threw three hundred dollars at me. “Don’t say we treated you poorly.” “This is what you deserve. You occupied my nest for so many years. Serena, you owe me.” My parents watched from the side. No one stopped her. Chloe threw my clothes and shoes out of the bedroom. Then she took my jewelry, bags, and savings. My brother, Xavier, patted her head. “Leaving her three hundred proves that Chloe is truly kind and sensible.” That day, I rushed out of the house and found Mia. She took me for coffee to clear my mind. Lucas stood at the door asking, “Can anyone lend me a coffee?” I wanted to grab that chance. So I raised my hand.

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My mission was to win over Sam Sheffield. I succeeded. We got married. There were no fireworks, just a quiet warmth that settled over our days. A peaceful life. Until the day he learned that the story’s female lead had gotten a divorce. He locked himself in his study and didn’t come out all night. That’s when I finally understood. The destiny of the devoted second male lead is to be a silent guardian for the heroine. Nothing and no one can change that. So, I made a graceful exit. I left on my own. The next time we met, I was back in the country with my fiancé for our wedding. And Sam Sheffield? He was the best friend my fiancé couldn’t stop talking about. He was also our best man. 1 I returned to the States with my fiancé, Cole Anderson, to get married. But then he got into a car accident. I rushed to the hospital, tears streaming down my face in a panic. “Drinking and driving? If you don’t want to marry me, just say so!” Cole sat up, pulling me into his arms with a soft laugh. “I worked way too hard to get you to say yes. You think I’d risk messing that up now?” he murmured, his voice a low hum against my hair. “It was my best friend who was driving. Neither of us had a drop to drink. Who knew he could screw up this badly sober?” Just as he finished, a rustle came from the next bed. My fiancé yanked the curtain aside with a lazy drawl. “You’re awake?” “Good. You can explain this to my fiancée right now. If she gets mad and leaves me, I swear I’ll end you.” I shot him a glare. Even now, he couldn’t be serious. His friend remained silent. Cole glanced over, and his brow instantly furrowed. “Sam, what are you staring at?” My heart seized at the name. It couldn’t be. Not that much of a coincidence. My body went rigid. Slowly, I turned. The moment our eyes met, the air left my lungs. Sam Sheffield. My ex-husband. The man who was once my mission. 2 When I first arrived in this world, the main characters had already fallen for each other. Sam was in a deep depression, his grades plummeting. To survive, I had to follow the System’s orders: win him over. I used every trick in the book. He was drawn to the heroine’s bright, sunshine-y personality, so I molded myself into that image. I pestered him relentlessly, striking up conversations and bringing him homemade sweets every day. At his basketball games, I was the loudest one in the stands, waving pom-poms and cheering his name until my voice was raw. Even when he gently turned me down, I played dumb, trailing after him like a lost puppy. In reality, I’m quiet and reserved. No matter how hard I tried, I was just a pale, clumsy imitation. I was on the verge of giving up, convinced the mission was a failure. Then, one day, the System’s voice echoed in my mind: [Host, objective value has reached 100. Congratulations on earning permanent residency in this world.] And just like that, it was gone. I never figured out what triggered the success. The elation was dizzying, but a thread of anxiety ran through it. I was terrified it was all just a dream. Sam, ever perceptive, noticed my turmoil. He smiled, his face warm and brilliant in the sunlight. “Ava, just be yourself. I like you just the way you are.” He had seen through it all—the awkwardness and fumbling that came after every desperate attempt to be someone I wasn’t. From that day on, everything felt natural between us. With the mission complete, our feelings for each other only deepened. We got married right after college. Life was simple. We shared chores, watched movies, and found our rhythm in the quiet flow of everyday life. It was perfect for us. Then came the late-night phone call. On the other end was a woman’s voice, choked with tears. I knew who it was. The story’s female lead, Monica. She and the male lead had divorced. Sam got up and went to his study. He didn’t come back out all night. After that, our routine shattered. He started leaving early and coming home late. I’d occasionally run into them together at work events they both happened to attend. Monica had become his assistant. I couldn’t tell if I felt more sadness or relief. I felt it was time for a change in my own life, too. Neither of us liked to fight. So when I brought up divorce, he agreed without much hesitation. The settlement was more than enough to let me live comfortably for the rest of my life. Because of him, I’d been given a new life without suffering too much for it. I genuinely wished him happiness. And five years later, I found my own. I just never imagined fate would be so cruel. That the best friend Cole had mentioned was Sam. 3 The weight of Sam’s gaze on my face was so heavy that even Cole picked up on it. His brow tightened, and his voice dropped, turning cold. “You know Ava?” At the sound of my name, Sam’s eyelashes fluttered. The faint color in his already pale lips seemed to drain away completely. I spoke first. “We went to the same high school. We saw each other around.” Sam quickly composed himself. Pushing himself up with one arm, he offered me a polite, distant smile. “Ava. It’s been a long time.” Cole’s expression softened slightly, but he took my hand, his fingers lacing through mine. He deliberately angled it so the diamond on my finger caught the light—like he was staking a claim, or maybe firing a warning shot. He picked up where I left off. “Not as handsome as me. Stop looking at him.” A laugh escaped my lips. “You’re shameless. Who praises themselves like that?” The tense atmosphere slowly began to dissolve. I didn’t look at Sam again. It was as if we were truly just strangers who had crossed paths a few times, long ago. Cole’s injuries were just minor scrapes, nothing serious. After I finished his discharge paperwork, I turned around to find Sam standing right behind me. His right hand was in a cast, and he looked worn out and disheveled. 4 “About our past… let’s wait until after Cole and I are back overseas to tell him. You know how he is…” I pressed my fingers to my temple, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. Cole was a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of person. He wore his heart on his sleeve, his loyalties fierce and his grudges sharp. He knew I’d been married before, but he had no idea my ex-husband was Sam. If I told him now, I was afraid their friendship would implode, and things would get ugly. “Is he good to you?” Sam asked suddenly. I blinked, taken aback. “He is.” This was just too weird, talking about my current relationship with my ex-husband. The air grew thick with silence. Just as I was about to leave, a woman rushed toward us. She hurried past me and went straight to Sam, her hands immediately flying to his arm to inspect the damage. “Sam, why didn’t you tell me you were in an accident?” she demanded, her voice laced with worry. “Your hand is hurt? Is it bad? Will it affect your drafting work?” It was Monica. She looked more mature than she had in her youth, but her features were just as captivating. Sam gently eased her hands away. “I’m fine.” Monica froze, her gaze finally landing on me. Her expression flickered, and she forced a smile. “Ava, long time no see.” I nodded, deciding it was better to clear the air. “We just ran into each other and were catching up. I’m back in the country to get married.” “Oh, I see.” A barely perceptible wave of relief washed over her. Sam’s lips thinned. The knuckles of his left hand, clenched at his side, turned white. 5 That evening, I was curled up in Cole’s arms, half-watching a horror movie. The plot was so dull we were both losing interest. I was still debating whether to tell him everything now. Out of the blue, Cole spoke. “Let’s not have Sam be our best man.” An unexpected wave of relief washed over me. “Why not?” He nuzzled the side of my neck. “He’s injured, so it’s inconvenient. Plus, it’s bad juju. Might jinx our epic love story.” I gave him a surprised look. “I didn’t know you were so superstitious.” He didn’t confirm or deny it. “Just a gut feeling.” He paused, his tone shifting. “Besides, the way he was looking at you… it was weird. I hope I’m wrong, because if I’m not, that’s the end of our friendship.” I stared blankly at the screen. Yeah, definitely better to wait until after the wedding. Cole had been living abroad for years. Now that he was back, he was swamped with dinners and catch-ups with old friends. I had no desire to see Sam or any of their mutual friends, so I usually stayed home. The truth was, very few people even knew we had been married. We weren’t big on public displays, so we’d just taken a long honeymoon and called it a destination wedding. We never posted pictures of our faces online; it was practically a secret marriage. After turning him down one too many times, Cole wrapped his arms around me, his voice taking on a pathetic, pleading tone. “Babe, please come with me just this once. I’ll be so lonely without you.” I raised an eyebrow. “Not worried about me running into Sam?” “He’s not invited. These are my friends from high school. They don’t know him.” I couldn’t resist his puppy-dog eyes, so I finally agreed. When we got to the private room, it was filled with unfamiliar faces, just as he’d promised. I felt myself relax, listening as they shared embarrassing stories about Cole from back in the day. The atmosphere was light and fun. Until the door swung open, and Sam walked in. Monica was right behind him, looking like she’d failed to stop him. 6 Seeing Monica with him seemed to placate Cole slightly. His expression, while not warm, was less hostile. “You’re still injured. What are you doing out and about?” Sam’s voice was flat. “It was my arm, not my legs. Why can’t I be out?” The air crackled with tension. And as he spoke, his eyes were fixed on me. The room fell silent. No one knew what was going on. Cole moved to stand slightly in front of me, a shield. The muscle in his jaw was tight, his patience wearing thin. “How did you know we were here?” A cheerful, laid-back voice drifted in from the doorway. “I told him, of course!” a newcomer announced. “You jerk, I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for weeks. The second you get a fiancée, you ditch your pathetic old friends, is that it?” My breath caught in my throat. It was one of the few people who knew Sam and I had been married. I looked up and my eyes met Ben’s. He stumbled back in shock. “Holy shit! A-Ava? What are you doing here?” Cole turned his head, his gaze sharp and piercing. “You know her?” Ben realized he’d stepped in it. He stammered, trying to backtrack. “Uh, yeah, we’ve met a few times. Just surprised to see her, that’s all, haha…” A vein throbbed at Cole’s temple. His entire body was coiled like a drawn bowstring. Someone, sensing disaster, tried to step in and smooth things over. But surprisingly, Cole didn’t press the issue. “I’ve had too much to drink tonight. I’m gonna have to skip the next round. My fiancée and I are heading home.” I stood up and took the hand he offered me. I could feel the sheer force of his grip, a testament to the rage he was barely holding back. I managed a tight, apologetic smile for the others. “Sorry, everyone. We’ll catch up next time.” Sam’s gaze shifted from our clasped hands to my face. His eyes were bloodshot, as if he’d been drinking. “She’s my ex-wife.” 7 His quiet words were a spark in a powder keg. The suppressed fury in Cole finally ignited. He spun around. And slammed his fist into Sam’s face. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, saying that now!” he snarled through clenched teeth. Monica rushed to Sam’s side, her face a mask of panic. “Cole, what are you doing? He’s still injured!” Cole pulled his fist back, sneering. “He’s lucky that’s all he got for eyeing my fiancée.” “Are you insane? They’re ancient history! You two have been friends for twenty years!” Monica glared at Cole, her voice sharp with disbelief. But Sam brushed her hand away. His gaze cut through the crowd, landing on me with an unyielding intensity. Our eyes locked, and the calm was gone, replaced by a churning storm. “It’s not over.” His voice was a whisper, as if meant only for himself, but it carried through the stunned silence, reaching every ear in the room. No one moved. Ben covered his face, unable to watch. Monica’s face went pale as she stared at Sam, tears welling up in her eyes. Sam pushed himself to his feet and walked over to Cole. Ignoring the blood trickling from his split lip, his eyes held a tempest I had never seen before. “Eyeing your fiancée?” he repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “She was my wife first. You’re the thief who snuck in when I wasn’t looking.” Cole’s rage exploded. “Sam, you’re asking for it!” He swung again, each punch harder than the last. Sam fought back with equal ferocity. They were trying to kill each other. Ben rushed in to pull them apart, his face crumpled in despair. “Stop! Stop it! Sam’s hand is still broken! What if you make it worse?” When he couldn’t separate them, he looked at me, his eyes pleading. “Ava, can you please get them to stop?” A cool, calm smile touched my lips. “Go on, let them fight. Be even better if one of them dropped dead.” They both froze instantly. 8 The chilly night air, tinged with the salty dampness of the river, did little to cool the fire in my chest. I stared coldly at the man across from me—bandages still wrapped around his arm, fresh bruises blooming on his face. “Are you sober now?” “I’m sorry.” Sam’s eyes were downcast, unable to meet mine. A bitter laugh almost escaped me. “Do you think I want your apology? I thought we had a clear understanding that day.” To avoid each other at all costs. That should have been our silent, mutual agreement. I had done everything I could to prevent a scene like this. And what had he done? I took a deep breath, my gaze fixed on the shimmering surface of the river. “Sam, I honestly don’t understand what you’re thinking.” “Why did you have to make things so humiliating for everyone?” His voice was raw. “I don’t understand it either.” “Just like I don’t understand how you could leave so calmly back then,” he said, the words heavy with accusation. “Five whole years. Not a single word.” Sam finally looked up at me, his entire being engulfed by a wave of profound sorrow. “Ava, all these years, I’ve been wondering… did you ever really love me?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “What’s the point of asking that now?” “I need an answer.” His dark eyes were fixed on me, stubborn and unwavering. My gaze drifted to the distance, where Cole was leaning against his car. The wind picked up, seeming to carry his restless energy toward me. Sam followed my line of sight. The emotions in his eyes deepened into something unreadable. I told him the truth. “I did, once.” “But later… you became my comfort zone, a habit. You were like mineral water.” Not something I couldn’t live without. 9 During our honeymoon, Sam and I traveled to many countries. On one island, our guide told us it was a world-famous spot for paragliding. It was a kind of thrilling adventure I had never experienced. The sky was filled with vibrant arcs of color, punctuated by joyful screams of release. My heart began to pound, a warmth spreading through my body. I wanted to try it. Sam held my hand. “It’s too dangerous, Ava. We can do something else.” But his eyes never left the scene before us. I saw the nostalgia in them, clear as day. Monica had once shown me a collection of photos of her and Sam growing up. Among them was a picture of them paragliding together when they were fifteen. I couldn’t help but wonder. In that moment, was he genuinely concerned for my safety? Or was he jealously guarding a memory that was theirs and theirs alone? Later, I understood. Love is defined by its nuances, by the small, telling differences in how it is given. Sam was a celebrated genius in architecture, known for designing landmark projects. But after Monica’s divorce, he was willing to personally design her a new home. Every night he spent in his study, sketching her blueprints, his eyes shone with a joy brighter than any desk lamp. Monica’s ex-husband—the male lead of this world—once sought me out. He looked at me with pity. “Your husband spends all his time with the woman he’s been in love with for years, and you don’t seem to care at all.” When Sam found out about it, he explained everything. “The guy cheated on her and won’t leave her alone. I’m just protecting her for now. Ava, please don’t misunderstand.” He looked flustered, which was rare for him. My voice was gentle. “It’s okay. I don’t mind.” Sam seemed to freeze for a second. And I truly didn’t mind. I’ve always been a passive person. I measure how much affection I should return based on how others feel about me. His love for Monica and his love for me were always different—one heavier, one lighter; one more, one less. My love for him mirrored that. When his feelings for me were at their peak, I loved him. Gradually, that love settled into a habit. A quiet life like that, forever, seemed fine. Now, all I felt was the lightness of a burden lifted. Even the main characters could break from their destined paths and choose different lives. Why should I continue to let myself be slowly boiled alive in lukewarm water, all for the sake of habit? When a comfort zone is no longer comfortable. When a habit becomes an inconvenience. When I realized that mineral water, unlike plain water, isn’t essential, and it lacks the exhilarating fizz of a soda… I knew it was time for a new way of life. On our third wedding anniversary, Sam prepared a meticulous candlelight dinner. He even turned off his phone. “Just the two of us tonight,” he said. “There’s something I want to tell you.” We were in sync, as always. My heart hammered against my ribs, that familiar warmth spreading through me, just like when I’d seen the paragliders. Only this time, I was going to act. “I have something to tell you, too.” As he looked at me with anticipation, I smiled and slid a document across the table. A divorce agreement. “Sam, let’s get a divorce.” 10 “What did you say to him? He looked like he was about to shatter.” Cole toyed with my hand, his tone casual, almost indifferent. But the sour note underneath was impossible to miss. I knew he was upset, so I tightened my grip, lacing my fingers through his. “You want to know?” The driver silently raised the partition between us. Cole closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the seat, a deep weariness etched on his face. “Forget it.” The car wasn’t the right place for this conversation anyway. I glanced down at our tightly clasped hands, which he refused to let go of, and let him be. The moment I keyed in the code for the front door and the crystal chandelier flooded the foyer with light, Cole’s kiss crashed down on me. It was fierce and desperate, a battle for oxygen. By the time he was done, my legs had turned to jelly, and I could only lean against him, gasping for breath. He’d been pushed to his limit today. His emotions were running higher than usual. He lifted me onto the entryway console, his hands planted on either side of me, leaving no room for escape. After another searing, possessive kiss, the lights went out, plunging us into darkness. The house was silent except for the sound of our ragged, intertwined breaths. I rested my hands on his broad shoulders, trying to calm my racing heart. Suddenly, I felt a weight in the crook of my neck, followed by a cool, damp sensation against my skin.

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The alpha billionaire, Damian Blackwood, was sterile. Desperate for an heir, he kept a hundred ‘canaries’ at his sprawling estate. He made a public declaration: whoever bore him a child would receive a billion-dollar prize. A year later, ten of the canaries gave birth in succession. But every single one of them had their limbs hacked off and were buried alive. The reason given was infidelity. A month after that, my own ten-month pregnancy came to term. But one look at my newborn child, and I started sobbing in terror. The children of the other women, the ones buried alive for their betrayal, were at least human. My baby… wasn’t even human. It was five tiny calico kittens. 1 The private physician who delivered them fainted on the spot. Only my personal maid, Martha, was left, her eyes wide as she stammered, “Miss Monroe, what… what is this?” What was this? I wanted to know too! How could a human being give birth to cats? I pinched my thigh, hard, praying this was all just a nightmare. But the pain was sharp and real. This was not a dream. I was finished. The gruesome fate of the first ten women flashed through my mind, and I collapsed onto the bed, too numb for tears. A year ago, I was brought to this luxurious estate along with a hundred other young women from all corners of the country. That day, Damian Blackwood had announced his terms to all of us: the first woman to give him a child would walk away with one billion dollars. And so, the race began. Pills, acupuncture, desperate prayers to any god who would listen… every trick in the book was tried, but no one got pregnant. Until a month later, when the plainest of us all, a quiet girl named Jenna, suddenly announced she was expecting. Damian was ecstatic. He showered her with attention, a constant stream of jewels and fine things delivered to her room. Over the next month, nine more canaries fell pregnant. I was the last one to sleep with Damian. And it only happened because he was drunk, stumbled into the wrong room, and took me in a hazy stupor. I thought my chances were zero. But to my shock, the next month, I too tested positive. Just as all the expectant mothers were praying for a smooth delivery, Jenna gave birth. It was a boy. Everyone envied her, believing the billion dollars was as good as hers. Instead, her arms and legs were severed on the spot, and she was buried alive with her child. The reason? Infidelity. The child wasn’t Damian’s. One by one, the other women gave birth. And one by one, they were accused of cheating, of borrowing another man’s seed, and were met with the same brutal end. At first, I didn’t understand how Damian found out. Not until my own labor began. Damian stood guard outside the door himself, flanked by doctors and his personal security. The moment a child was born, a paternity test was performed. The first ten canaries failed that test, and their sentences were carried out immediately. It was true they had risked everything, getting pregnant by other men for the money. But I hadn’t! So why did I give birth to five kittens? Right now, Damian Blackwood and his entourage were waiting just outside my door. What could I do? The other women at least had a baby that could be tested. But I had a litter of tiny, fluffy kittens. The second Damian saw them, he would have us all ground to dust. As panic consumed me, Damian’s cold voice cut through the door. “What’s with the silence in there?” His urgent footsteps approached… 2 Damian was about to push the door open. I was frantic. I scrambled to scoop up the squirming kittens and shoved them into Martha’s arms, hissing in a low voice, “Quick! Hide them in the trash bin!” Martha gave me a shocked look, but her body moved faster than her brain. In a flash, all five kittens were nestled in the bin. Just as she finished, the door swung open. Damian’s gaze swept from the fainted doctor on the floor to my empty delivery bed. His brow furrowed. “What happened? Where’s your child?” His eyes bored into me, demanding an answer. I knew if I couldn’t come up with a believable explanation, I’d be in a shallow grave within the minute. My heart hammered against my ribs, my mind racing. In that split second, I took a deep breath, rolled off the bed, and gave Damian a deep, solemn bow. “Mr. Blackwood! I… I have failed you!” Damian’s face instantly darkened. “Tell me, how exactly have you failed me?” As he spoke, the bodyguards behind him rested their hands on the hilts of their daggers. I clutched my stomach, feigning extreme shame, my voice trembling. “Mr. Blackwood, what I just fought to deliver… it wasn’t a baby!” “It was a giant, foul-smelling, years-old… bowel movement!” “The stench is what made the doctor faint!” The room fell into a dead silence. The doctors and bodyguards stared, their professional masks cracking with disbelief. Damian’s lips twitched. He eyed my stomach suspiciously. “Who performed your prenatal check-ups?” “Dr. Wells,” I said quickly. “Mr. Blackwood, Jenna and I never got along. Dr. Wells was her lover. I suspect he deliberately misdiagnosed me to make me look like a fool in front of you! I was stupid enough to believe him. I spent months eating everything in sight, thinking I was growing a baby, but I was just getting fat! The terrible pain just now… it wasn’t labor, it was… relief!” Dr. Wells had already been disposed of along with Jenna. A dead man couldn’t defend himself. He was the perfect scapegoat. Damian’s face was a thundercloud. “So, I’ve been waiting outside all this time… for you to take a dump?” 3 The humiliation was crushing, but I forced myself to nod. “I never expected such a… bizarre situation. I’m so sorry to have wasted your time.” Damian gave me a look I couldn’t decipher, then barked an order to the doctor behind him. “Dr. Miles, examine her. See if she’s telling the truth.” It’s over! Dear God, you’re determined to take both my dignity and my life, aren’t you? Under Damian’s intense gaze, I held out my arm, feeling like the Grim Reaper was already calling my name. Dr. Miles conducted a thorough check, then pushed his glasses up his nose. “Mr. Blackwood, Miss Monroe’s physical condition is… quite unique.” Damian raised an eyebrow. “Unique how?” Dr. Miles’s tone was serious. “Her heartbeat is strong, her vitals are excellent. She shows none of the signs of a woman who has just endured childbirth. From a medical standpoint, she does not present as postpartum at all.” My eyes lit up. I wanted to fall at Dr. Miles’s feet and thank him. Of course, a normal woman would be half-dead after giving birth. But I wasn’t normal! The five kittens combined weighed next to nothing. Delivering them had been no different from… well, what I claimed it was. If Damian wasn’t here, I could probably run a hundred-meter dash. Hearing the doctor’s report, Damian’s face grew even darker. He was probably picturing himself waiting anxiously outside the door for a pile of crap. A vein pulsed in his temple. He stared at me, his voice a low growl. “You absolute idiot.” “From now on, you’re moving to the back shed! You are not to come out without my permission!” The back shed? I nodded eagerly. “Thank you, Mr. Blackwood, for your immense generosity!” It worked! I was alive! The sheer joy of survival made me dizzy. I quickly grabbed a stunned Martha and the trash bin containing my children, and we moved into the shed that very night. It was dilapidated and old, but as I looked at the five tiny kittens nestled on a makeshift cushion, it felt like paradise. “Martha, quick, get some rice water. These little ones must be hungry.” Martha brought the water, but no matter how we tried, the kittens wouldn’t drink. Seeing them huddled together so pitifully, Martha hesitated. “Miss Monroe, since you… gave birth to them… maybe you should try nursing them?” A human nursing cats? Was that even a thing? But they were mine. I couldn’t just watch them starve. I managed to express a little milk into a bowl. The moment I did, the five kittens, their eyes still sealed shut, scrambled toward it as if drawn by an invisible force. They lapped up the entire bowl in seconds. Just like their mother, I thought with a swell of pride. Tough little survivors. As I continued to feed them, I pondered the whole situation. I had only been with one man in my entire life: Damian Blackwood. So why did I give birth to a litter of kittens? I retraced every single detail before and during my pregnancy. My diet was normal. I hadn’t been exposed to anything strange. The only unusual thing was the day before I slept with Damian. I’d found a pure white stray cat in a corner of the garden and given it some meat. Could it be? Was that cat repaying my kindness by gifting me five of its children? As I was lost in thought, I heard a soft, sweet voice. “Mama, hungry.” I thought I was hearing things. I looked down, and nearly jumped out of my skin. The five kittens who had just been greedily drinking milk had transformed into five plump, cherubic babies! 4 My hand trembled, and the bowl crashed to the floor. Martha shrieked and dove behind me. “Miss Monroe! The cats… they turned into people!” I swallowed hard. “I see them.” One moment, they were five balls of fluff. The next, five chubby human babies. Right now, all five of them were staring at me with wide, round eyes, repeating in their tiny, singsong voices, “Mama, hungry, eat-eat.” Oh, God, are you trying to kill me with shock? Giving birth to kittens was one thing. But now the kittens were turning into babies? “Martha! The door! Lock the door, now!” I practically threw myself at the door, fumbling with the lock. Then I took a deep breath and walked back to the cushion. Hesitantly, I reached out and poked the cheek of the nearest baby. It was soft. Warm. A real, living human. “You… you can talk?” I asked in disbelief. The baby I’d poked nodded vigorously and held out his little arms. “Mama, hold.” The other four immediately started whining. “Mama, hungry, eat-eat.” Oh, my God. Not only had they turned into people, but they could talk from birth? What in the world had I given birth to?! After the shock wore off, a strange wave of maternal instinct washed over me. Looking at their adorable, chubby faces, my heart melted. I didn’t care if they were cats, demons, or humans. They were my children now. I snapped into action, picking them up one by one to nurse them. Perhaps because they were cats at their core, their appetites were small. They were all full in no time. The following days were a whirlwind of chaotic baby care in the shed. The five little ones spent most of their time as cute, well-behaved infants. They only transformed back into kittens when they were scared, usually when I scolded them. They grew at an astonishing rate, changing almost daily. Within two weeks, they could walk and even jump. I had warned them sternly never to leave our room, and they were obedient, so we avoided any close calls. While life inside the shed was a peaceful bubble of secrecy, outside, the story of “Ava Monroe’s ten-month pregnancy that produced a giant turd” had become the joke of the entire city. The estate buzzed with mockery. “Did you hear? That Ava Monroe was so desperate for money she was rubbing a belly full of crap and calling it her son!” “I heard the doctor fainted from the smell! He was so traumatized he quit on the spot!” “Now the whole city knows our estate has a woman who was pregnant with poop for ten months!” “And get this, she’s gone crazy in that shed. People hear her talking to herself, calling out for her ‘babies’ all day!” Martha would stomp her feet in anger whenever she heard the gossip, but I let it roll off my back. What did they know? I had five shape-shifting, talking babies! Whatever their origin, their intelligence was clearly superior to that of any drooling, ordinary infant. I even started to feel like it was a blessing in disguise. No more competing for favor, no more backstabbing. Life was a little poorer, but guarding my five precious secrets, it was also quite fulfilling. The only downside was the shed’s terrible condition. It was cold and drafty, and our daily meals consisted of leftovers from the main house. For five growing babies, cold scraps were barely enough to fill their tiny stomachs. One evening, I was staring at our empty bowls, wondering what to do, when I turned around and saw their cushion was empty! All five babies were gone!

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I tried to hit on a beautiful woman, and she had me arrested. At the station, the cop asked me, “What exactly did you do to her?” I answered honestly. “I asked for her number. She ignored me. I gave my butt a pat and walked away.” The words were barely out of my mouth when the beautiful woman, who had been silent until now, leaped to her feet and pointed a finger at me. “You son of a bitch, you patted my ass!” she shrieked. “Officer! He slapped my ass! And he squeezed it! A few times! You have to help me!” 1 I was at a bar when I saw her in the booth across from me and fell instantly in love. My heart hammered against my ribs. I threw back two shots of whiskey for courage. Just as I stood up, ready to make my move, a voice echoed in my head. The brave step I’d just taken, I silently took back. My buddy, seeing me sit back down, was baffled. “What? You’re over her in five minutes?” I sighed. “Nah, man. I just remembered… I’m not divorced yet.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t get you. You’re too damn honest. You said you’d be faithful, and you actually are?” he scoffed. “For all you know, that woman’s got a whole secret family on the side. Besides, you’re divorcing her tomorrow. You’re just getting a number, not proposing. She’ll never know. It’s fine.” I hesitated. “Just go for it, dude,” he urged. “You look sharp tonight. Sharp enough to make a nun question her vows. Don’t let it go to waste.” He had a point. Convinced, I grabbed my phone and stumbled over to her table. Before my brain could catch up and stop me, I blurted out, “Hi, could I… could I get your number?” She stopped swirling the drink in her hand. For a long moment, there was silence. Then, she reached into her purse and pulled out two marriage certificates. She lifted her chin, her expression a strange mix of pride and detached coldness. “Married.” I was floored. Seriously? Who the hell comes to a singles’ night at a bar when they’re married? Who the hell carries their marriage certificates around with them? Who the hell uses their marriage certificates to ward off unwanted advances at a bar? Seeing my stunned silence, she must have thought I didn’t believe her. She opened one of the certificates, showing it to me under the dim bar lights. Her movements were dramatic, almost like she was showing off. “See? It’s got the official seal. 100% legit. We’ve been married for seven years.” Oh. Literally no one cares. I pursed my lips and turned to leave. 2 When I got back to our booth, my buddy was gone. There was no one to share my moment of utter humiliation with. I grabbed the rest of the liquor on the table and downed it, trying to numb the sting of rejection. But the more I drank, the fuzzier my head got. I touched my cheek. It was burning up. Crap. I was drunk. I have a tendency to run my mouth when I’m drunk, and to avoid another soul-crushingly embarrassing incident, my only thought was to get home. Fast. I called my buddy. No answer. I looked down at the sofa. Of course. His phone was in his jacket, and his jacket was right next to me. I waited a bit longer, but he didn’t come back. I had no choice but to go find him. I pushed myself up and staggered through the maze of tables, plunging into the crowd. The bar was dark, and my slight nearsightedness, amplified by the alcohol, made it impossible to recognize faces. I could only look for his clothes. After weaving through half the bar, I finally spotted his back on the terrace. White shirt, black pants. That was him. As I got closer, I saw he was facing away from me, a cigarette between his fingers, head slightly bowed. He looked completely absorbed, like he was trying to pull off some kind of brooding, handsome poet vibe. It was so not him. Trying to look all deep and mysterious without me, huh? I let out a low snort. A wicked idea sparked in my mind. My eyes traveled down his back, stopping when they reached his ass. I grinned. I strode forward, wound up, and with all my might, I brought my hand down flat on his perfectly round, firm-looking butt. SMACK! The sound was crisp and loud. He froze, his whole body tensing up from the shock, his ass muscles clenching tight. Mission accomplished. My hand was still pressed against him. The texture was soft and springy, with just a hint of startled rigidity. Well, I’d already slapped it. It felt so nice… one little squeeze couldn’t hurt, right? I couldn’t resist. I gave it a couple of squeezes. As I did, I looked up with a goofy grin. “Feel good?” “Are you sick?” My voice and a voice that was definitely not my buddy’s rang out at the same time. But even faster than the voice was the face that loomed into view—a beautiful, furious face. Her brows were knitted together, her eyes blazing with a rage she was barely containing. I knew that face. It was the woman who had just shut me down with her marriage certificate. Shit. Wrong person. I yanked my hand back and hid it behind me like a guilty child. She turned to face me fully, dropped her cigarette, and ground it out with her shoe. She didn’t say a word. She just took a long step toward me. I instinctively took two steps back. “I’m so sorry,” I stammered. “I… I thought you were someone else. I didn’t mean to… your, uh, your ass is just so… springy…” Her expression turned to ice. My drunk brain, now under the pressure of her murderous glare, was short-circuiting. I couldn’t form a single normal sentence. Her chest heaved with fury. She clutched her offended butt, the tips of her ears turning a deep, telltale red. “You again?” she seethed. “Didn’t I tell you I was married? Harassing a married woman… have you no shame? Do you not understand English? Or did you not get a good enough look at the certificate? You want to see it again?” She started digging in her purse for the certificates again. I waved my hands frantically. “No, no, no, that’s okay! I wish you and your husband a long and happy life together. I’ll just be going…” “Wait,” she snapped, cutting me off. “You’re not going anywhere.” I looked up. Her expression was dead serious, but there was a flicker of desperation in her eyes, a tremor of panic in her voice. “My marriage certificates are gone.” 3 She frantically patted down her pockets and rummaged through her purse, her panic growing more visible by the second. Finding nothing, she grabbed my arm. “When you slapped me… did you steal them then? I swear they were in my purse when I grabbed my cigarettes! Give them back! They’re really important to me!” I panicked too. Because I honestly hadn’t taken them. I held up my empty hands. “No, miss, I swear, I didn’t take them!” I was wearing a jacket with shallow pockets; there was nowhere to hide them. She was clearly past the point of believing me. “You’ve been trouble since the moment you walked up to me. You don’t look like a good person. Hand them over now, before I call the police.” “I really don’t have them…” “I’m counting to three. And I really don’t want to get physical with you.” I was getting desperate. I wanted to suggest we check the security cameras, but the alcohol had other plans for my mouth. “I’d only be interested in stealing them if you had a Black Card tucked inside,” I slurred. “It’s not like you’re the only one with a marriage certificate.” I’m married too, you know! Who gives a damn about yours? A cold, humorless smile spread across her face. It was the smile of someone who had just been pushed too far. “How did you know there was a Black Card inside?” she asked, her voice dangerously soft. “So you did take it. And now you’re denying it. Fine. Fine.” She pulled out her phone and dialed 911. “That card was for my husband. I have to give it to him tomorrow. I can’t face him without it.” “Hey! You can’t just call the cops!” I lunged for her phone, but she sidestepped me. My momentum carried me forward, and I lost my footing, crashing to the ground. My face scraped against the rough concrete, and a sharp pain shot through my body. By the time the fog of drunkenness and pain cleared, I was in a police station. 4 In the mediation room, a police officer opened his notebook. “Mr. Evans,” he said, getting straight to the point. “What exactly did you do to her?” I’ve always been terrified of cops. My heart started pounding. I was in deep trouble. I quickly replayed the events in my head, reminding myself to keep my mouth shut about the stupid, embarrassing parts. I rubbed my throbbing head, trying to fight back the waves of nausea. “Well… I asked for her number. She ignored me. I gave my butt a pat and walked away.” Seemed accurate enough. I figured bringing up the whole mistaken-ass-slapping incident would be humiliating for me and inappropriate for a married woman like her, so I glossed over it. But the moment the words were out, the beautiful woman, who had been sitting silently beside me, shot to her feet. “You son of a bitch, that was my ass you patted!” she shrieked, pointing at me. “Officer! He patted my ass! And he squeezed it! A few times! You have to do something!” I just sat there, speechless. The officer gently pushed her pointing hand down. “Ms. Wright, please, calm down.” She shook him off, her voice getting louder. “I can’t calm down! I’m a married woman! My husband has never even touched my ass, and this guy gets to first? My chastity is ruined! And my marriage certificates are gone! They’re the most important things I own!” A small crowd of onlookers had gathered outside the door, whispering among themselves. “She’s this worked up over a marriage certificate? Must really love her husband.” “Loves her husband but goes to a bar? Sure.” “Didn’t she say a Black Card was missing too? Probably more worried about that.” “I don’t know, she keeps talking about the certificates.” “She must love him. Who else carries them around all the time?” “What would that guy want with her marriage certificate, anyway?” “Jealousy, probably. Wants to tear them up so he can make a move.” The buzzing voices were driving me crazy. I’d had enough. “It’s just a marriage certificate!” I snapped. “You lose it, you get a new one! What’s the big deal? You acting like you need it to get a divorce tomorrow or something?” The woman froze. She stared at me. “How did you know I’m getting a divorce tomorrow?” I froze. The onlookers froze.

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1 The year I turned thirty-two, my dad’s nagging about marriage became an all-out, indiscriminate assault. So I promptly broke up with my supermodel girlfriend of four years, packed my bags, and moved back to my hometown. My best friend was floored. “Are you insane? I thought you were obsessed with Sienna’s face. You can really just walk away?” I scoffed. “I’m not an idiot. A woman like her is a thrill to date, but to actually marry her? Do I look like I want to spend the rest of my life catching her cheating and then forgiving her?” The words had barely left my mouth when a voice, as cold as ice yet terrifyingly familiar, cut through the air behind me. “Lucas, is that really why you dumped me?” … Dragging my suitcase back to the apartment Sienna and I shared, I bumped right into a guy walking out. He was wearing a flimsy tank top with Sienna’s oversized shirt thrown carelessly over it. Barefoot, he was carrying a pair of limited-edition sneakers in one hand. I recognized him. Aaron. A print model Sienna had recently signed. Barely twenty, bursting with a raw, youthful energy. I instinctively took a step back, melting into the shadows of the elevator bay. A few seconds later, Sienna followed him out. She was wrapped in nothing but a bath towel, her hair still dripping, her skin flushed with a post-shower glow. Leaning against the doorframe, she lit a slender cigarette, her expression a perfect blend of languid and weary. After a moment, she casually tossed an unopened box for the latest iPhone at him. “Here.” Aaron’s eyes lit up. He lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Sienna with a joyous shout. “Oh my god! No way, the new one! Sienna, you’re the best!” “Picked it up on my way back from the Paris show.” “I fucking love you, baby!” Aaron leaned in to kiss her. But Sienna’s patience had worn thin. With a slight frown, she turned her head, dodging the kiss. “Alright, that’s enough. Get going.” The boy didn’t seem to mind. He pouted, a mix of flirtation and complaint in his voice. “So cruel. Use a guy and toss him aside. Just a minute ago in bed you were calling me your little wolf pup.” He clutched the new phone box gleefully, blowing Sienna a kiss as he left. “Gone! See you at the studio tomorrow.” Only after he was gone did I step out from the shadows. Sienna clearly hadn’t expected me back from my business trip so early. She froze for a second, but the surprise quickly melted back into her usual mask of indifference. “You’re back. Didn’t you say—” “Flight got changed,” I said, my eyes fixed on her. “It was late. I didn’t want to wake you.” The faint, reddish marks on her collarbone were fresh and damningly obvious, but she showed no hint of shame. She walked over, reaching for my luggage. “You must be exhausted. I’ll run you a bath.” As she bent over, the towel loosened, revealing more of her flushed skin. It was as if the scene I’d just witnessed had never happened. Seeing me stand motionless, she raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?” Then, a flicker of understanding crossed her face, and a slow, lazy smile played on her lips. “Miss me?” She moved closer, her scent a heady mix of her floral body wash and another man’s cologne. Her hand slid expertly under the hem of my shirt. “Then let’s take care of business first, and then we can—” Her fingertips, calloused from years of handling cameras and paintbrushes, traced a path across my skin, raising a familiar, tingling heat. I closed my eyes, a wave of exhaustion washing over me. I pushed her away. I have to admit, I was addicted to Sienna’s body. I’d pursued her after seeing her just once at an art exhibition, completely thunderstruck by her beauty. But now, whether it was the ten-hour flight or the lingering image of the boy who had just left, all I felt was a knot of disgust. I had zero interest. Sienna was rarely rejected by me. She stood there, stunned for a moment, before her expression darkened. “What’s with the attitude?” My gaze dropped to the floor, landing on a single man’s sock on the entryway rug. It wasn’t mine. Sienna saw it too. She clicked her tongue, her face tightening with annoyance. A dead silence fell over the living room. She pulled another cigarette from the pack and lit it, the smoke coiling around her like a shroud. “He’s just a model. Drank too much, had nowhere to go. I let him crash here for a night.” “We didn’t do anything.” 2 I stared at her, the white smoke a veil between us, obscuring both our faces. But we both knew how pathetic that excuse was. This wasn’t the first time. Sienna was born to be surrounded by admirers, a moth drawn to an endless series of flames. She was like this when I met her. My company was launching an art collaboration, and my friend took me to meet a rising avant-garde photographer. He warned me she was brilliant but had a terrible temper. I wasn’t a fan of artists; they always struck me as overly dramatic. And then Sienna walked in. She wore a simple white shirt, her slightly-too-long hair tied in a messy knot at the back of her head, a few stray strands falling across the bridge of her perfect nose. The moment she entered, it was like all the air had been sucked out of the conference room. Her face was a masterpiece sculpted by the gods. She lifted her gaze, and her almond-shaped eyes, the kind poets write about, swept over the room with a detached, almost careless coolness. I didn’t hear a single word she said that day. My mind was consumed with one thought: how to make her mine. After the meeting, a crowd swarmed her, trying to get her number. She turned them all down with an icy stare. Only I persisted, cornering her in the parking garage. After twenty-six years of being terminally single, it was the boldest move of my life. Maybe she was annoyed, maybe she found it novel, but whatever the reason, I became her boyfriend. And I had been, until now. But I knew that in our four years together, Sienna had never truly loved me. Or rather, she loved parts of me. She loved that I was independent, that I was “understanding,” that I could handle the PR disasters that constantly swirled around her. She loved that I never questioned the gossip, the late nights, the endless string of “friends.” Every time I caught her, she’d toss out a flimsy excuse, and I would forgive her. She once laughed at me, saying I was too clear-headed, not like a real man in love. She also joked that the day she met her true soulmate, she’d kick me to the curb without a second thought. Our relationship was held together by my tolerance alone. “You promised me you wouldn’t bring people back to the apartment anymore,” I said, my voice low, my eyes fixed on the sock. A flicker of mockery crossed her face. She was in no mood to placate me. “Since when did you get so hung up on details?” She leaned in, blowing a stream of smoke in my face, her eyes glinting with a cruel amusement. “Can’t handle it?” “If you can’t handle it, then get the hell out.” She’d said that countless times over the past four years. And every time, I was the one who backed down, who apologized, who held her and begged her not to be angry. Over time, she learned my weakness. She knew that as long as she held that threat over my head, I was powerless. I turned my head away. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed.” Sienna’s hand shot out, her fingers clamping around my wrist like a vice. She had high, sharp cheekbones that gave her an intimidating intensity when she was serious. “Know when to quit, Lucas. Don’t push your luck.” I yanked my hand free and walked into the guest room. A few moments later, the front door slammed with enough force to shake the walls. Sienna was gone. She was angry. I knew it. After all, I was always the one to compromise, to soothe her ego. I’d never given her the cold shoulder like this before. I rolled over and opened my phone. In the family group chat, my dad had sent another photo of a woman. “Lucas, this is the one Aunt Katherine introduced. A university professor. You’re 32 this year, it’s time to get serious.” I switched to my work chat. My boss had tagged me. “@Lucas, HQ is setting up a new Brand Strategy department and they need a Director. I think your skills are a perfect fit. The resources and platform at headquarters are on a whole other level. Think about it.” My dad wanted me to come home for arranged dates. My company wanted to promote me and transfer me to headquarters, which just so happened to be in my hometown. The timing, the place, the people—it seemed I had no reason to stay in this city anymore. I sighed. To be honest, I really liked Sienna. She was beautiful, she had a killer body, and we were incredible in bed. Most importantly, she was a mess. Being with her was easy. I didn’t have to think about the future or take any real responsibility for her. I met her when I was buried in stress at work, just looking for a release. I’m picky about looks, a fatal flaw, but then I found Sienna. I had her during her prime years. She was the one who soothed me with her body through countless late nights while I was fighting for my KPIs. And while she had a revolving door of men, she was careful. All her flings had to provide regular health reports. I took precautions; I wasn’t afraid of catching anything. Finding another… partner… this compatible would be tough. But it couldn’t be helped. Dating is one thing, marriage is another. I liked Sienna a lot. But I also knew, with absolute clarity, that she was not the one. Now, the game was over. 3 Sienna didn’t come back that night. For the next few days, she completely vanished. My texts went unanswered. My calls went straight to voicemail. Then, a red exclamation mark appeared next to my messages. She’d blocked me. Her signature move: the cold shoulder. It had happened before. Sienna was a master of the silent treatment. Each time, I’d have to hunt her down at her art gallery or her favorite bars, groveling and begging until she’d unblock me. But this time, I was busy with my work handover. I didn’t have time to play her games. That evening, as I was booking my flight back to HQ, my phone rang. It was Sienna’s assistant. The background noise was deafening—thumping music and the riotous laughter of a crowd. “Mr. Hayes? Sienna’s had a bit too much to drink. She’s at a bar called Phantom. Could you possibly come and get her?” Sienna loved to party. Her family was loaded; art was just an expensive hobby. I once asked her why she didn’t join the family business. She’d scoffed, saying her mother’s illegitimate children were already tearing each other apart over the inheritance, and she couldn’t be bothered to join the fight. Besides, her grandmother’s and father’s shares would eventually be hers anyway. She just wanted to live her life exactly as she pleased. Sienna had zero career ambition. In that respect, we were polar opposites. Whenever I landed a big deal or got a promotion, I’d tell her, and she’d respond with a listless disinterest. She’d once said contemptuously that killing yourself for a salary that couldn’t even buy a bottle of Ace of Spades was pointless. I knew we were fundamentally different people. We had nothing in common except for the physical connection. I didn’t understand her soul; I only coveted her body. She ignored my efforts; she only took my compliance for granted. Which was fine. It meant that when we split, neither of us would be heartbroken. I thought for a moment, then agreed. After hanging up, I glanced at my flight details. Ten in the morning, the day after tomorrow. I sighed. I hadn’t really wanted to break up this quickly. We were so good in bed, and with the stress of a new position, I was kind of hoping for one last go. A breakup fuck. I clicked my tongue, a little disappointed. But since the opportunity had presented itself, I might as well go with the flow. … When I arrived at Phantom, Sienna was the center of attention in a VIP booth, surrounded by a glittering crowd. Men and women, all stylish, all beautiful, their faces glowing with the collagen of youth. It made sense. Sienna was rich, gorgeous, and generous. On her, even promiscuity was spun into the “untamed” charm of an artist. I subconsciously touched the fine lines around my own eyes, recalling something Sienna had once said with a hint of disdain. “Lucas, you’re 32. Can’t you take better care of yourself? Stop being so rugged.” No wonder she was tired of me. She was surrounded by kids in their early twenties. I stayed silent, standing at the edge of the crowd. Our eyes met across the booth. She acted like she didn’t see me, her gaze flicking away almost immediately. Aaron, his face flushed with alcohol, was practically draped over her, his voice syrupy. “Come on, Sienna, one more drink.” Sienna smiled. Under the shifting lights, her almond-shaped eyes shimmered like dark water, breathtakingly beautiful but utterly devoid of warmth. “Drinking like this is boring. You feed it to me.” “How?” Sienna didn’t answer, just lowered her gaze to his lips. It took him half a second to understand. A flash of ecstasy lit up his eyes. He tilted his head back and downed the glass of champagne. Then, Sienna’s hand shot out, grabbing the back of his head as she crashed her lips against his. Her kiss was anything but gentle; it was a release, an act of aggression. Aaron tilted his head back to receive it, the corners of his eyes turning red from a lack of oxygen. Champagne dribbled from the corners of their locked mouths. The atmosphere around them exploded. Whistles and cheers erupted from the crowd. I knew she was doing it for me. She was punishing me. Punishing me for not placating her the other night, for daring to give her the cold shoulder. It wasn’t until I walked right up to their booth that the noise died down. Everyone turned to watch the show. Sienna looked up, her expression placid. “What are you doing here?” I stared at that face, and for a fleeting moment, I was lost in the memory of four years, of countless nights tangled together. In the heat of passion, we had even said “I love you.” Did it hurt? Maybe a little. But it wasn’t agony. After all, I had always known who Sienna was. Promiscuous, always chasing the next thrill, incapable of saying no. Selfish, raised to be the center of the universe, never considering anyone’s feelings but her own. My voice trembled as I spoke. “Sienna, you’ve gone too far.” She looked at me, and though she was sitting and I was standing, I felt as if she were looking down on me. She wore that same placid expression, tinged with a faint, contemptuous smile. “Too far? You can always break up with me. I’m not stopping you.” I said nothing, just held her gaze. I couldn’t count how many times she’d used that threat against me. Eighty? A hundred? A friend next to her must have thought she’d pushed it, tugging at her arm. “Sienna, come on. Look at Lucas, he’s crushed.” And in fact, my eyes were red. If you’re going to put on a show, you go all the way. When that single tear hit the carpet, I saw her expression falter, just for a second. The hand holding her cigarette twitched. But she said nothing, only watched me with that cold, unwavering stare. The next second, I spoke, my voice barely a whisper. “Fine, Sienna.” “Let’s break up.” The mask on Sienna’s face finally cracked. For a moment, I thought she was going to flip the table. But instead, she laughed. It was a laugh that didn’t reach her eyes, a sound that seemed squeezed from between clenched teeth. “Alright, Lucas. You’ve grown a spine. But you remember this: I don’t do second chances.” “So don’t come fucking crawling back to me like a dog.” “I won’t,” I nodded, wiping the tear from my cheek. Then I turned and walked away, and I didn’t look back. Sienna didn’t come home that night. I spent the early hours deleting her from my contacts, my socials, my life, and packing the last of my things. The next morning, I was on the first flight back to headquarters. As the plane climbed into the clouds, I pulled out my SIM card and dropped it into the trash bag. 4 I never contacted Sienna again. Life back at headquarters quickly fell into a routine. I quickly adapted to the rhythm of the new department and even met the woman my parents had arranged for me to see.

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To get my struggling idol boyfriend the exposure he needed, I became his dedicated fansite master. When he sang off-key, I auto-tuned his voice until it sounded “kissed by an angel.” When his acting was stiff, I edited his rare laugh into a viral clip called “A Ray of Sunshine.” When he threw a tantrum, I faked donation records to save his image. After he skyrocketed to fame, he promised to announce our relationship. But backstage, I overheard him tell his agent, “The photos went viral because I’m talented. Ava just clicks a shutter button and thinks she’s a kingmaker. I can’t go public with her — it would upset Diana.” Diana? The actress leeching off his fame? I laughed bitterly, put away my camera, and with it, all my love for him. Fine. We’re through. Good luck shining on your own, Ben. 1. “Ava’s just got a massive ego, always thinking she’s the one who made me famous,” Ben said with a sigh. “The truth is, it was my own fame that made her videos go viral.” His tone then shifted, becoming eager. “Tonight’s my performance with Diana. Make sure Ava gets plenty of photos of us together.” “She won’t get mad. She’s so in love with me, she’ll just convince herself it’s all for work.” The agent clicked her tongue. “Making your girlfriend take shipping photos of you and another woman. Classy, Ben.” “But I’m warning you, don’t push it too far. Ava has a huge following of her own…” The cynical laughter from inside the dressing room continued, but a sudden, icy gust of wind cut through me, leaving my heart feeling hollow and cold. Ben had been in the industry for five years. For the first two, he was a nobody. In his third year, my million-follower fan account appeared out of nowhere. I produced a steady stream of viral photos, all thanks to my stubborn refusal to admit his flaws. I’d style his outfits in adBright, then wait for hours at the airport to snap “candid” shots, stubbornly insisting he wasn’t a “bad dresser.” I ran myself ragged networking for him, just to get him a seat one row closer to the front at award shows, stubbornly insisting he wasn’t a “nobody.” After Diana came into the picture, they did three projects together, and the online hype around their “couple” status exploded. With it came the haters, mocking his playboy looks. Before, I would have used my army of burner accounts to defend him. Now, I couldn’t bring myself to be stubborn anymore. The truth had been hammered home by Ben himself. Snapping back to the present, I packed up my camera right in front of his approaching assistant. “Something’s come up. Don’t bother saving me a spot tonight.” As I left, I saw Diana walk into Ben’s dressing room with a bright smile. A moment later, his agent emerged, a knowing smirk on her face as she quietly closed the door behind her. I walked out into the frigid December wind and, to my own surprise, laughed out loud. He really thinks he got this far on his own talent? Fine. Let’s see what kind of “talent” you really are. I pulled out my phone, logged into the account dedicated to him, and sent a private message to his biggest rival’s management studio. [Hi, need a fansite master? One with a million followers.] 2. Back home, I edited a few clips of Ben’s rival and posted them on a new, smaller account to test the waters. Ben didn’t call me all night. It seemed he’d completely forgotten his promise to announce our relationship at the concert. Without the need to stay up all night shooting and editing for him, I was in bed by midnight and slept soundly, dreamlessly. The next morning, I made breakfast only for myself. Ben had developed a sensitive stomach from years of hustling for gigs in his early days. Because of that, I always took his breakfast very seriously. I’d stay up editing until the early hours, then wake up at dawn to pore over healthy recipes and cook for him. In all those years, it never once occurred to me to make an extra portion for myself. It was almost noon when Ben finally came home, smelling of a perfume that wasn’t mine. He walked in and immediately tried to hug me, his face a mask of apology. “I’m so exhausted, Ava. The team dragged me out for drinks right after the concert, I didn’t even have a chance to call you.” I shifted slightly, avoiding his embrace. He froze, then scratched his head guiltily. “Are you mad because I didn’t announce our relationship? I don’t know what happened, there was a technical problem with the stage equipment. The special screen I had set up for you wouldn’t turn on.” “I didn’t want our announcement to be so rushed. Just wait a little longer, Ava. I promise, at the next concert, I’ll tell the whole world about us!” He spun a convincing tale, all without ever realizing I hadn’t even been at the concert. His PR skills had certainly improved over the years, even if nothing else had. I scrolled through my phone, sinking into the sofa. The videos on my new account had done pretty well overnight. I planned to edit a few more today. Seeing that I was ignoring him, Ben, for once, didn’t go upstairs to sleep. He leaned over my shoulder, trying to make conversation. “What are you looking at, Ava?” I didn’t bother hiding my screen. “Just watching some clips.” Ben’s smile widened. “From my concert last night? Did you get some good shots of me and Diana?” “You know this was Diana’s first time at a concert, Ava. It’s a huge talking point. If you got us in the same shot, I could piggyback on the buzz.” Just then, his phone pinged. The smile that spread across his face as he looked at the screen was far more genuine than the one he’d given me. “That’s Renee, my agent. She’s here to pick me up. I have a scene this afternoon, so I can’t stay. Be a good girl and wait for me, okay? We’ll have a big dinner tonight.” He rushed out the door, in such a hurry that he knocked a small ceramic figure off the coffee table. It was a piece he had given me back when he was still a struggling nobody. He had been on an international shoot with a major production and that was all he could afford. When he gave it to me, he’d kept his head down, speaking in a low, determined voice, as if trying to convince both of us. “I’m going to work harder, make more money. One day, you’ll come abroad with me as the girlfriend of the male lead. You’ll be able to buy whatever you want, without ever looking at the price tag.” I stared silently at the ceramic figure, now broken in two. I raised my phone. Through the window, I saw Ben getting into a car. Just as a hand reached out to pull him in, I pressed the shutter. It clearly wasn’t his agent’s car. The hand pulling him inside wore a bracelet Diana had been wearing just last night. If he couldn’t even be bothered to cherish our last remaining memory, then I had no reason to cherish the path I had paved for him. A lack of talent would just send him back to being a nobody. Cheating… that was the kind of scandal that could truly bury him. 3. I spent the rest of the day editing videos. That evening, a message from Ben popped up. [Sorry, Ava! The director added a bunch of scenes last minute. I can’t make it home tonight!] I emotionlessly opened Diana’s social media. The latest post was a selfie taken in a hotel room. In the corner of the shot, strewn on the floor, was Ben’s jacket. I saved the image, then found an old photo of Ben wearing the same jacket and put them side-by-side. Just then, a new notification appeared. [Hello, ‘StarlightAva,’ we would like to formally invite you to David Cole’s solo concert! We have reserved a front-row VIP seat for you and look forward to your attendance!] David Cole was Ben’s rival. I opened my new fan account and realized the videos I had casually edited yesterday had blown up. Over a hundred thousand likes, millions of views. The comment section was filled with people wondering how they had never discovered this hidden gem before. I raised an eyebrow. They were right. While this artist was still relatively unknown, he had a solid foundation. He was professionally trained. Most importantly, he had a powerful voice and real acting skills. He was leagues better than Ben. He probably just lacked good promotion. And speaking of promotion, this studio’s approach was a world away from what I was used to. In the five years I ran Ben’s fansite, I not only had to fight for concert tickets like everyone else, but he never even saved me an autographed photo. His excuse was always about saving resources—a ticket sold was money in the bank. A ticket given to me was a waste. I glanced at the time. The concert was on the same night as Ben’s, in the venue right next door. Without a moment’s hesitation, I replied. [Of course. I’ll be there.] I assumed Ben wouldn’t be coming home that night. To my surprise, he showed up in the early evening. And trailing behind him was Diana, bundled up and hiding her face. “A few of Diana’s stalker fans snuck onto the set,” Ben explained. “They almost hurt her. I brought her here to lie low for a bit. You don’t mind, do you, Ava?” My focus was entirely on the video I was editing. “Whatever,” I muttered, not bothering to look up. Diana sat quietly on the sofa, occasionally scrolling through her phone and replying to messages from her team. I was halfway through my edit when Diana got up to get a glass of water. Suddenly, she cried out, “Oh!” The entire glass of water spilled onto my laptop. The screen went black instantly. On it were all my projects from the past several years. I shot to my feet. Diana was rubbing her ankle, her voice weak. “I’m so sorry, Ava. It was an accident…” I clenched my jaw. “It’s amazing how you can trip on a perfectly flat floor, Ms. Lane.” Ben came out of the kitchen with a plate of cut fruit. Seeing the scene, he immediately rushed to Diana’s side. “Ava, don’t blame her. She’s had a long day. She’s exhausted.” I took a deep breath. “She’s exhausted, so it’s okay for all the videos on my laptop to be destroyed? That’s years of my work!” Diana lowered her head and let out a small sob. Ben’s face hardened, anger flashing in his eyes. “Ava, can you stop being so dramatic? Diana and I are both tired. Don’t make more trouble for us.” “It’s just a few videos. I’m right here, aren’t I? If you want to shoot more, I can pose for you anytime.” I almost laughed in his face. “Do you have any idea what it takes to edit your audio? I have to adjust it note by note! It’s easy for you to say, but if you could actually sing on key, I wouldn’t have to be so protective of this stuff!” Ben’s pride was fragile. My words hit a nerve, and he exploded. “What’s that supposed to mean? If you don’t want to do it, then don’t! No one’s begging you! If I knew I’d have to deal with your attitude every time I ask for a video, I would’ve just hired a professional photographer!” “Fine,” I shot back. “Then hire one. I’m done.” Right in front of him, I logged into my million-follower account and deleted every single post. Ben looked like he was about to have a stroke. He stared at the empty account for a long moment, completely speechless. Diana tugged on his sleeve. “Ben, let’s not fight. Let’s just solve the problem. I should probably head back to the set.” “Wait, I’ll go with you. What if those stalkers are still there? What if they bother you again?” He shot me a venomous glare. “As for this problem, it’s pretty clear who’s not cooperating. She can figure it out herself!” He stormed out, dragging Diana with him. 4. That night, two topics shot to the top of the trending charts. #BenBrightOfficialGirlfriend #StanAbandonsBenBright My million-follower account was a wasteland, while Ben’s had a brand new post. It was a photo of his hand intertwined with Diana’s. The caption read: [Found the love of my life.] Everyone was speculating about who the woman was, but Ben had been careful. You couldn’t see enough to confirm it was Diana. Meanwhile, on my page, the comments were flooded with rumors that I had a meltdown over his “real girlfriend” and rage-deleted everything. The two trending topics made Ben’s fame explode. Viral clips and entertainment news accounts were everywhere. By midnight, his agent was fielding calls for new projects left and right. A message from Ben appeared on my phone: [Apologize, and I’ll announce that you’re my girlfriend at the concert.] I stared at the message, a cold fury rising in me, and blocked his number. Apologize? Let’s just wait until all the real dirt comes out. Then we’ll see who needs to apologize. Ben’s popularity was still soaring. I was satisfied. The higher you fly, the harder you fall. I didn’t see Ben for the next few days. On the day of the concert, I took a cab to the stadium area. As I got out, I ran right into Ben, who was there early for a soundcheck. His brow, which had been furrowed in a frown, relaxed when he saw me. “Ava, let me be clear. No apology, no official announcement. It won’t matter even if you came to watch.” Then, his eyes fell on the professional camera gear in my arms, and his smile widened. He took off his scarf and wrapped it around my neck. “You need to stay warm if you want to take good pictures.” “Renee is calling me. I’ve got to go.” I didn’t watch him leave. I took off the scarf and tossed it into the nearest trash can without a second glance. Then I turned and walked into the venue next door. In the dressing room, I uploaded a few videos I had edited the day before to my new account. Then I logged into my main, million-follower account. I selected the videos of Ben’s confessions of love to me, our chat logs, and the photos and videos of him getting into Diana’s private car and bringing her to our home. I uploaded everything. Of course, I didn’t forget to tag him. You want to trend? Fine. I’ll help you. With that done, I slung my massive telephoto lens over my shoulder and headed into David Cole’s concert. … In his dressing room, Ben waited for me, but I never came. He started to get anxious, pacing back and forth. He scrolled through his phone and saw a few clips from his rival’s concert. The editing style, the camera angles… they were all disturbingly familiar. The more he watched, the more agitated he became. His agent’s voice crackled through his earpiece, telling him it was time. Ben shut his phone and walked onto the stage, a knot of anxiety in his stomach. The moment the stage lights flared to life, his agent’s panicked scream exploded in his ear. “Ben! Check the trending topics! Now! The entire list is people calling you a cheater!”

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1 Rovan’s overseas business trip ended in disaster. The only one who returned was his twin brother, Adrian. The grief was a physical blow. I collapsed, spitting blood. Clutching my wedding photo with Rovan, I threw myself into the sea seven times, and seven times I was pulled back from the brink. The eighth time I was rescued, I overheard Adrian arguing with my mother-in-law. “Rovan, how long are you going to keep this up? Beth has tried to kill herself eight times because she thinks you’re dead. You have to tell her the truth!” Adrian’s brow furrowed in refusal. “No. My brother gave his life for me. I have to take care of his fiancée for him.” “My sister-in-law is even more fragile than Beth. Once she’s pregnant and has something to live for, then I can safely admit that I’m Rovan.” I froze, the biting cold of the seawater nothing compared to the ice flooding my veins. I had nearly destroyed myself for him, yet in his heart, my life was worth less than a flicker of pity for his brother’s fiancée. If that was the case, I wanted no part of such a love. … My mother-in-law pleaded, her voice laced with desperation. “But Beth is your wife! How can you stand to see her suffer like this? If this ever gets out, there will be no going back for either of you.” “I can see that your heart truly belongs to Beth. I can’t let you throw away your future in a moment of misguided guilt.” Her words were sincere, but he just shook his head. “Don’t worry, Mom. I have a plan for Beth. I’ve already had the highest-grade amnesia drug sent from a top lab in Switzerland. Once she takes it, she won’t remember anything. She won’t try to kill herself anymore.” “After I get my sister-in-law pregnant, I’ll give Beth the antidote and beg for her forgiveness.” “She loves me so much. I know she’ll understand.” My body went weak. I couldn’t listen anymore. I stumbled back to my room, collapsing onto the bed. The wedding photo of Rovan and me crashed to the floor. The glass frame shattered, just like my heart. A few moments later, he walked in. “Sister-in-law, I heard you tried to jump into the sea again. You look so pale. Are you feeling unwell?” “My brother may be gone, but we are still family. I made you some herbal tea. Drink it, it will warm you up.” I stared at the bowl in his hands, my eyes burning. “No, thank you. I just want to be alone.” But he sat down on the edge of the bed. “Don’t be difficult. My brother wouldn’t want to see you like this. You have to drink this.” With that, he forced my jaw open and poured the liquid down my throat. I choked, tears streaming down my face as I shoved him away. He looked at the empty bowl, a sigh of relief escaping him. He then scanned the room, his eyes landing on my diary. He expertly snatched it and tossed it into the lit fireplace. One by one, he gathered everything that held a shared memory between us and threw it into the flames. I screamed, lunging to stop him, but he wrapped his arms around my waist, holding me back. He looked at me, a flicker of pity in his eyes. “Don’t blame me, sister-in-law. This is the only way you can truly forget my brother and start a new life.” “I’m doing this for your own good. I want you to live.” He then pulled the wedding ring from my finger and tossed it into the fire. I had worn that ring for seven years. He had it custom-made for me. It was my most treasured possession, the one thing I had left to remember him by. Tears finally streamed down my face. I thrashed wildly, trying to kick over the fireplace screen. The commotion woke my sister-in-law, Maya. She hurried over to see what was wrong. Her face fell when she saw me locked in Adrian’s embrace. “Honey, what are you two doing? The smoke… it’s choking me.” He immediately let me go. “Take the fire outside,” he ordered. Then, without another glance, he led Maya away. Three minutes later, I heard the sounds from their bedroom. Her moans, sweet and cloying. “Oh, Adrian, you’re so rough…” “Your sister-in-law is right outside. Aren’t you afraid she’ll hear?” 2 My fists clenched, my heart twisting in agony. As I watched our memories turn to ash, a piece of my soul burned with them. The next second, the drug took effect, and I blacked out. In my dream, I saw Rovan again, the way he was when he was twenty. He told me he was sorry, that he hadn’t taken care of me. I watched as his body slowly faded, morphing into Adrian’s. “No, Rovan, don’t leave me…” I cried out, lunging for him, but I fell through empty air. When I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital bed. Adrian was sitting beside me. He let out a breath of relief when he saw I was awake. “Sister-in-law,” he began, his voice hesitant. “Do you remember who you are?” I looked at him, my expression blank. If he was so determined to abandon our past and play the savior for Maya, then fine. I would give him exactly what he wanted. I would forget everything. “No.” Hearing my answer, he didn’t look as pleased as I had expected. He cleared his throat, gave me a brief explanation of what had happened, and then added, “Maya fainted from the shock of seeing you collapse. She needs a blood transfusion. Are you willing to donate?” My eyes dropped. He knew I had a clotting disorder. In the past, he would have never allowed me to even get a paper cut. Maya must have truly captured his pity. I nodded. For a fleeting moment, I thought I saw a flash of guilt on his face. He reached out, his hand instinctively touching my forehead. “You’ve really forgotten everything?” And, of course, Maya chose that exact moment to walk in. She shot me a venomous glare and left without a word. Only after my blood had been drawn did she saunter back in. “Sister-in-law, have you no shame? Adrian might look like his brother, but they are not the same person.” “I get that you’re grieving, but that doesn’t give you the right to steal my husband.” “And just so you know, I was perfectly fine. I just wanted you to lose a little blood to teach you a lesson. If I see you getting close to my Adrian again, I won’t be so nice.” A wave of humiliation washed over me. I wanted to scream that she was the one who had stolen my husband. But I said nothing. Maya took my silence as defiance. “And another thing,” she continued, “I’m pregnant. Tomorrow is our wedding anniversary. I’m going to tell him the good news then.” My gaze fell to her slightly rounded belly. A bitter smile touched my lips. “Is that so? Congratulations.” I turned my head away, unwilling to look at her any longer. Frustrated at my lack of reaction, Maya huffed and left. Alone in the room, I called my parents. “I don’t want to stay with the Valerius family anymore. I want to come home.” They already knew about Rovan’s “death” and had been worried sick. “Of course, sweetheart,” my dad said immediately. “Your brother Liam just got back from overseas tonight. He’ll come and get you tomorrow.” Liam was adopted by my parents when we were children. He had always been brilliant. He’d worked his way through college and earned a scholarship to study abroad. I hadn’t expected him to be back. We arranged a time, and I hung up. Then, I messaged a lawyer friend, asking her to draft a severance agreement. When a spouse dies, the marriage is legally dissolved. But I was worried that “Adrian” would eventually admit he was Rovan and try to entangle me in his life again. It was better to make a clean break now. I traced the faint indentation where my ring used to be. Rovan, I thought, I did love you. But I will not take back a man who’s been sullied. 3 A short while later, Adrian returned to my room. “Sister-in-law, tomorrow is my anniversary with Maya. I was hoping you could plan something for us. You know what women like better than I do.” I paused. “I’m not feeling well. You should do it yourself.” He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of concern on his face as he reached out to feel my forehead. “Really? What’s wrong?” At that moment, an angry shout came from the doorway. “Sister-in-law, I can’t believe you’re so vicious! You’re using a voodoo doll to curse me!” Maya stormed in, holding a doll riddled with pins, tears streaming down her face as she accused me. Her eyes, however, held a clear warning. I realized instantly what she was doing. This was her revenge. Without a second thought, Adrian believed her. He snatched the doll and threw it at me. “How could you do this to Maya? What did she ever do to you?” The pins pricked my skin, drawing blood. He just said I deserved it. Seeing Maya still crying, he declared he was locking me in the hospital morgue for the night. “Maybe then you’ll reflect on what you’ve done. I’ll let you out in the morning.” I shook my head frantically, trying to defend myself. “I didn’t do it! She’s framing me, I swear…” He slapped me across the face. “Enough! I believe Maya. She’s too kind to frame anyone!” They locked me in the morgue without a shred of mercy. Faced with a room full of corpses, I almost fainted from terror. I pounded on the door, begging him to let me out, but he never relented. Maya even had the power cut, plunging the room into absolute darkness. I huddled in a corner, my head in my hands, consumed by fear and helplessness. The slightest sound made my hair stand on end. In that moment, I began to seriously question my judgment in men. By the time he finally let me out the next morning, I was burning with a high fever. Adrian frowned. “I only left you in there for one night. Did you have to make yourself sick on purpose?” His expression was complicated. “Let’s get to the party. I’ve sent someone to get you medicine. We can’t be late.” I was weak, my voice hoarse. “I’m not going. I want to go home…” He hesitated for a second, then forcibly pulled me into the car. “No. Maya is already upset about the doll. Even if you’re sick, you need to go and apologize to her.” “Don’t worry. She’ll forgive you.” My eyes were swollen and red. “I told you, I didn’t do it. Why should I apologize?” His jaw tightened. He shot me a cold look in the rearview mirror. “Who else would want to hurt Maya?” I sighed, a sense of resignation washing over me. I felt nothing but a bone-deep weariness. When we arrived at the hotel, we walked into chaos. Maya’s boss was there with a group of thugs, smashing furniture. “You messed up the accounts! The company lost two hundred thousand dollars because of you!” he roared. “Either you pay up, or you go to jail!” Maya was terrified. When she saw Adrian, she ran to him as if he were her savior. “What do I do, honey? I really just made a mistake, I didn’t know it would cost so much.” She pressed an ultrasound report into his hand. “Honey, I’m carrying our child. I can’t go to jail. You have to do something…” Adrian looked at the report, and the deep frown on his face softened. He thought to himself, Finally, my duty is fulfilled. I can tell Beth the truth. But two hundred thousand was no small sum. The Valerius family couldn’t produce that kind of cash on short notice. The boss tried to force Maya to sign a work contract to pay off the debt. “No, she’s just found out she’s pregnant. She can’t do strenuous work.” Then, Adrian turned and pushed me forward. He looked at me pleadingly. “Sister-in-law, Maya is pregnant and unwell. Please, just sign this contract for now. We’ll figure something out later.” I refused, turning to leave. “I don’t owe him any money. Why should I sign?” Adrian cut me off, his voice sharp and urgent. “Why are you being so difficult? This is a crisis! We’re family! How can you just stand by and do nothing?” He grabbed my hand and forced my signature onto the contract. Then he stood by as the boss’s bodyguards gagged me and dragged me away. In the struggle, my shirt was torn open, exposing my waist. The boss’s eyes darkened with lust. “I hear your husband just died. Seems like this family doesn’t care much about you anyway. Why don’t you pay the debt with your body?” “Two hundred thousand. Twenty times with me. Seems fair, right?” He ordered his men to hold me down. I was already weak with fever, and my struggles were useless against their strength. Helpless tears streamed down my face. Seeing this, Adrian started to move towards me, but Maya grabbed his arm. “Those guys with him are dangerous thugs. Don’t go.” “Besides, if she can really get us two hundred thousand, what’s the harm in being touched a little?” Adrian’s first instinct was to snap at her, but then he saw her belly and forced himself to stay calm. “No, she’s still our sister-in-law. I have to help her.” But Maya ran to a table, threatening to hurt herself. “Adrian! If you go and something happens to you, I’ll kill this baby, and then I’ll kill myself!” He rushed to her side. “Don’t be rash, Maya! You and the baby have to be safe!” I watched them, my heart turning to ash. The boss’s hand cupped my cheek. “See? They don’t care about you.” “Why don’t you just come with me? Be my little mistress. I’ll take care of you.” Just as I thought all hope was lost, the bodyguards’ grip on me suddenly loosened. The police burst through the door and pulled me to my feet. Adrian sighed in relief, then looked surprised. “Who called the police? How did they get here so fast?” He raised his hand, intending to wipe away my tears. But at that moment, Maya clutched her stomach and cried out in pain. “Adrian, it hurts…” He rushed back to her side, his face etched with worry. “Did the stress affect the baby? I’ll take you to the hospital right now!” My heart was a dead, cold thing in my chest. I pulled out the severance agreement. “This is a list of offerings for my husband’s memorial. A family member needs to sign it.” Without even looking at it, he scribbled his name, then scooped Maya into his arms and ran to the hospital. I watched them go, my eyes like chips of ice. Clutching the agreement, I turned and walked away without looking back. From that day forward, I had nothing to do with the Valerius family.

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During the Black Friday sales rush, I was live for eighteen hours a day. I sold every last mango from Maple Creek. That night, the town mayor, Mr. Henderson, shoved a payment QR code in my face. “Rachel,” he started, a greasy smile on his face, “you’ve been live for over two weeks. You must’ve eaten a few hundred pounds of our mangoes.” “They’re selling for over a dollar a pound now. You’ve worked so hard for us, so we won’t ask for much. How about you just pay us a buck a pound for what you ate?” The other townspeople chimed in, their voices a greedy chorus. “That’s right! Rachel, you’re a huge influencer now. You can’t be taking advantage of your own people, can you?” I was just… stunned. For two weeks, I had been selling their mangoes for free. I didn’t take a single cent in commission. And now they wanted me to pay for the mangoes I sampled on camera? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I scanned the code and sent them three thousand dollars without a word. Two months later, the second harvest was ripe. Mayor Henderson found me again. “Rachel! You need to go live for a few more days! Sell this new batch for us!” I pulled a contract from my briefcase and slid it across the table. “Mr. Henderson, I have thirty million followers now.” “My fee for a single product feature is fifty thousand dollars. Payment upfront.” 1 When the final Black Friday livestream ended, my throat was raw. For fifteen straight days, I’d been staring at a screen for eighteen hours, and my teammate Kevin was so exhausted he’d fallen asleep right in his chair in the back. I pulled out my phone and sent everyone on the team a generous bonus, then cleared my tight, aching throat. “You all worked incredibly hard these past two weeks,” I rasped. “While every other streamer was cashing in on the holiday traffic, we were here, selling mangoes for our hometown for free. I know you all passed up lucrative partnerships for this, and I won’t forget it.” My assistant, Jenna, rubbed her bloodshot eyes. “Rachel, you’re the one who’s exhausted. The deals you turned down these past two weeks… we’re talking seven figures, easily.” Kevin, now awake, added his own hoarse comment. “She’s right.” “You did this for your old neighbors, paying for the equipment rentals and logistics out of your own pocket, without taking a dime in commission.” “You’ve got a heart of gold, Rachel.” I looked at the mountains of mango crates stacked in the warehouse, a sense of quiet satisfaction settling in my chest. Helping my hometown sell their harvest was worth earning a little less. Just then, the warehouse door creaked open. Mayor Henderson walked in, flanked by a dozen other residents of Maple Creek, his face stretched into a wide smile. He fumbled with his phone and held up a QR code for me to scan. “Rachel, my girl! You must have eaten your fair share of mangoes these past two weeks, eh?” He rubbed his hands together. “We won’t charge you the full price. Let’s just call it a dollar a pound.” My uncle, Jack, spoke up from the back. “She must’ve gone through at least two thousand pounds! That’s two thousand dollars right there!” I stood frozen, the words not quite registering. Jenna shot to her feet. “Sampling the product is to show the quality! Every streamer does it! How else would anyone buy them?” She gestured wildly at the warehouse packed with crates. “Rachel just sold out your entire town’s harvest! At market price, you’ve all made over six hundred thousand dollars. She didn’t take a penny, and you’re coming after her for a few hundred bucks for samples?” “We paid for the equipment and shipping ourselves! That was over ten thousand dollars right there, and we never asked you for a thing!” The townspeople exchanged uneasy glances. Some of them looked down at their feet. But Uncle Jack just stuck his chin out. “Business is business. Even family has to settle accounts. She has to pay for what she ate!” Jenna’s eyes welled up with furious tears. “Do you have any idea how many corporate sponsorships Rachel turned down for you? One of those deals alone could have bought every mango in this town!” The young woman’s raw anger silenced the room, but only for a moment. Mayor Henderson’s shifty eyes darted around before he cleared his throat. “Now, Rachel, we all know you worked hard. The whole town is grateful.” “But these mangoes… we wake up before the sun to grow them. This harvest is all we have to live on for the whole year.” He pointed to the people behind him. “Look at your uncle Jack. His son’s college tuition is due. And Mrs. Gable’s husband is sick. We’re not like you, making a fortune with every livestream.” Uncle Jack added his own two cents. “Two thousand dollars is a fancy dinner for you. For us, it’s six months of groceries.” The mayor pushed the phone closer to my face. “You’re a big-shot influencer. You’re not going to nickel-and-dime your own people over this, are you?” 2 That line seemed to straighten their spines. The murmurs started again, louder this time. “Exactly! The donations you get in your streams are insane. You’re telling us you can’t spare two grand?” “Growing these things is back-breaking work! You just talk into a camera and get rich. You owe us a piece of that!” Mrs. Gable started dabbing at her eyes. “I can’t even afford my husband’s medicine. You can’t just eat our mangoes for free.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Mrs. Gable, you can’t afford his medicine?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “Every year before this, your mangoes would rot on the branch. This year, your family alone sold eight thousand pounds.” “At the current price, that’s at least eight thousand dollars in your pocket. How can you not afford medicine?” She froze, her eyes darting away, unable to meet my gaze. Uncle Jack quickly jumped in. “That’s a separate issue! We’re talking about you eating our mangoes for free!” Looking at his self-righteous face, I felt a sudden, sharp sense of absurdity. For two weeks, I had survived on three or four hours of sleep a night, my voice so raw I could barely speak, yet I kept pushing through the streams. My team was right there with me, eating cold sandwiches and sleeping on army cots. And for what? So these people could have a better life. And now? The moment the money hit their accounts, they were here, demanding I pay for the samples. I looked down at my own chapped lips and suddenly felt like the past two weeks had been a complete waste of time. Seeing my silence, Uncle Jack pointed a finger at my face. “Have you forgotten where you came from, Rachel Miller? Your parents were dirt poor! If this town hadn’t pooled its money to send you to college, where would you be today?” “You used to come to my house for dinner every single day when you were in school! And now you’re arguing with us over a few bucks?” “That’s right! We treated you better than our own daughter! You can’t be so heartless!” A few of the older folks started nodding and muttering. “We never should’ve helped her get an education. Just raised an ungrateful viper.” Their words were like lashes, dredging up every small kindness from my childhood and using it to whip me. I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my voice steady. “You’re right, Uncle Jack. I did used to eat at your house.” “But do you remember? I always had to wait until your dog, Rusty, had finished eating before I was allowed to get the bowl you saved for me by the stove.” “Sometimes I could see scraps of meat in Rusty’s bowl. Mine just had watery, sour porridge.” Mrs. Gable tried to interrupt, but I held up a hand. “And about the tuition money… you might have forgotten.” “But I remember my father, on his knees in your living room, signing a loan agreement that used our house as collateral. You only agreed to lend him the two hundred dollars after he promised you a thirty percent interest rate. I’m sure the town hall still has the record somewhere.” Jenna, her eyes blazing, stepped in front of me like a protective lioness. “The first thing Rachel did after she got a job was pay everyone back! She worked a day job and streamed at night, saving every penny. She paid back the principal and the interest!” she yelled. “In fact, she gave every family an extra hundred dollars on top, and you, Uncle Jack, you complained that the interest was calculated wrong and should have been more!” She pulled out her phone, scrolling through photos. “And what about the ten thousand dollars she donated to pave the town road? Or the five thousand for the school? Do you want us to pull out the receipts for all of that, too?” The townspeople looked at each other, and a few started to back away. Uncle Jack’s face went from red to white, his mouth hanging open. Just then, the mayor’s daughter, Eva, pushed through the crowd with a few other young people. She crossed her arms, looking me up and down with a condescending smirk. “Rachel, darling, dragging up the past is just tacky. Helping you back then was a favor. Isn’t it only right for you to pay it back to the community now?” “Besides, you were the one who promised to sell all the mangoes for free. You can’t go back on your word.” The kids behind her nodded in agreement. Eva’s gaze drifted to the crates of mangoes, and she sighed dramatically. “We know you’re not short on cash. And you’re always talking on your streams about creating ethical standards for helping farmers. You can’t be the one to break the rules, can you?” “You ate so many mangoes during the stream. You can’t just let that slide.” She gently pushed the QR code closer to me again, her voice soft but laced with steel. “Two thousand dollars is just one less designer bag for you. But for these people, it’s a year of hard work.” A young man with bleached hair behind her chimed in. “If your fans found out you were getting free food and handouts from your poor hometown, you might lose a few followers, huh?” “We’re all recording this, by the way. So, Rachel, what’s it going to be?” Instantly, several of them raised their phones, pointing the cameras at me. “If we don’t get the money today, this is going straight online!” Uncle Jack shoved Jenna aside, his face contorted with rage. “If you don’t pay up today, none of you are walking out of Maple Creek!” The warehouse erupted into a chaotic scene, the townspeople swarming around me, hands outstretched, demanding their money.

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The first thing the eighteen-year-old Kevin asked when he time-traveled to my present was, “Did I cheat on you, years from now?” From my lonely perch in this giant villa, I asked in surprise, “How did you know?” Eighteen-year-old Kevin gripped my hand. “Evelyn, just you wait. I’m going to beat the living crap out of my future self!” Leaning against the doorframe, twenty-nine-year-old Kevin asked with a cold smirk, “Beat the crap out of who?” “Trying to move in while the master’s away? Have some shame, Kevin.” 1. From our first date to our wedding day to this life together, it took Kevin and me nearly eleven years. But when I found a long strand of hair that wasn’t mine on his suit jacket and the smudge of cheap, dusty rose lipstick on his collar, I knew. Kevin was cheating. I accepted it with a strange sense of calm. It had been a long time coming. Humans aren’t built for eternal devotion. In the end, love is just a contract of responsibility. Besides, Kevin gave me so much. Every time he came back from one of his trysts, he’d bring me a designer gift as a peace offering. Every week, money would appear in my account like clockwork. Watching the numbers on my bank statement climb, I learned to live with it. After all, I was useless. Shoulders that couldn’t carry a thing, hands that couldn’t lift. The kind of delicate disaster who sees stars just from standing up too fast. Whenever he finally got tired of me and asked for a divorce, I’d just grab my closets full of designer clothes and my collection of black cards and disappear. But then, that night, the eighteen-year-old version of Kevin traveled here through a painting I’d made long ago. I was curled up on the couch, eating spicy takeout and binge-watching a show, when a voice called out from behind me. “Evelyn?” I turned to see a young, boyish face. I stared for a long moment before speaking. “Kevin, did you secretly get a facelift behind my back?” “…” He blinked, then grabbed my hand. “You idiot! I’m the eighteen-year-old Kevin.” He held my hand tight, waving his arms around wildly as he explained how he’d come through the painting. “I just touched it, and then this powerful, mysterious force just yoinked me into the future!” When you get to a certain age, your emotions tend to level out. I calmly watched this dramatic teenager. “Have you had dinner? You want to grab a bite before you go? I ordered enough for two.” Eighteen-year-old Kevin shook his head frantically. “I didn’t come here to eat!” “I came to ask you something important. Did I—the future me—fucking cheat on you?” That caught me off guard. “How did you know?” His eyes turned red. “Evelyn, you just wait. I swear I’m going to kill me!” Before either of us could react, a cold laugh echoed from the doorway. Twenty-nine-year-old Kevin was back, I don’t know when. He held a gift bag in one hand, his shoulder resting against the doorframe. His gaze landed like a physical weight on our joined hands. “Kill who?” “And who gave you permission to hold my wife’s hand?” “Trying to steal what’s mine while I’m away? Have a little self-respect, Kevin.” The younger Kevin was a lit fuse. He shot to his feet. “Who the hell is the shameless one here? You’re sneaking around behind this beautiful woman’s back, and you have the nerve to talk!” The older Kevin pulled me to his side. “You are, obviously. This is my wife, not yours. Now crawl back to whatever hole you came from.” The two Kevins started shouting over each other, and my head began to throb. The younger one, his eyes red-rimmed again, pointed a trembling finger. “Evelyn, you choose! Do you want the eighteen-year-old me, or this thirty-year-old fossil!” His expression screamed, If you don’t pick me, I’m going to throw a fit. 2. My twenty-nine-year-old husband let out a contemptuous laugh. “Kids are so melodramatic. What can you possibly give Evelyn? Go on, I’d love to hear it.” He pulled a glittering necklace from a box—the latest piece from my favorite designer—and gently fastened it around my neck. “I can give her anything she wants. And you?” “What can you do besides scream?” I thought the eighteen-year-old would back down. The adult world was far more complicated than he could imagine. But in the next second, his eyes welled up as he shot back, “At least I’m factory-new! Not like your second-hand equipment!” “…” It wasn’t just the older Kevin who went silent. I did, too. My husband’s face darkened. After a long pause, he forced the words out. “Evelyn, I am not ‘second-hand’.” The younger Kevin pulled me toward him. “Don’t believe him. Even if he’s not second-hand, he could be third-hand, fourth-hand, who knows? And you know Evelyn never shares.” The older Kevin was losing his famous composure, his anger rising to meet his younger self’s. “The only thing that matters is who can make her feel good! Are you as big as me? Do you have my technique? What can you do on your first time besides fumble around like an idiot?” The younger Kevin covered my ears. “La la la, I can’t hear you!” That was the last straw. The older Kevin looked like he was about to have an aneurysm. He grabbed my wrist. “Evelyn! The choice is yours. Choose. Me, the twenty-nine-year-old! Or him, the eighteen-year-old!” The younger one held onto my other hand for dear life, placing it on top of his head as he whispered pleadingly in my ear, “Evelyn, don’t go to him. Please, pick me?” The older one roared, “Have you no shame, Kevin!” “If it’s for Evelyn, I don’t need shame!” the younger one yelled back. One Kevin was already enough to drive me crazy. Now there were two. I yanked my hands free and slapped them both across the face. “Both of you, shut up! It’s too damn loud!” “I’m trying to eat. Go back to where you came from and do whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing!” The eighteen-year-old clutched his cheek, looking at me with wounded eyes. The twenty-nine-year-old just let out a quiet chuckle and worked his jaw. “By the way, Kevin…” They both answered at once. “Which one?” My gaze settled on the older one’s face. “I’ve made up my mind,” I said coolly. “I’ll go on the blind date you set up for me.” “After all, you said it yourself. A hundred thousand dollars for each meeting, and if I find someone I like, I get shares in your company. An offer that good would be stupid to refuse.” A sharp, wounded noise escaped the younger Kevin. “What?! Kevin, have you lost your goddamn mind? How could you do this to Evelyn after everything she’s been through with you?” The older Kevin sneered. “Was I really this immature at eighteen?” “Stop looking at the adult world through your childish lens and go back to college where you belong.” “And stay away from Evelyn. I only arrange the best for her.” The younger Kevin punched the older one square in the jaw. “Bullshit! I won’t let Evelyn leave my world. Not even for you!” And with that, he vanished back into the painting. I stared at the canvas, reaching out to touch it. Nothing happened. Apparently, only Kevin could open the passage. 3. The painting was my final project for a class. I named it Unforgettable. The subject was eighteen-year-old Kevin. Using soft, warm tones, I tried to capture the love that seemed to spill from the eyes of a boy as radiant as the sun. Suddenly, the older Kevin wrapped his arms around me from behind, his lips brushing my ear. “Feeling sorry for him? Having regrets?” I turned to face him and laughed. He took my hand and placed it on his bruised cheek. “You should be feeling sorry for me.” I’d already noticed the lipstick stain on his cuff. Today, it was a fiery terracotta. I looked at him, my smile laced with a double meaning. “Didn’t you already eat your fill before you came home?” “You haven’t touched me in ages. Did my eighteen-year-old self reawaken that long-dormant competitive spirit of yours?” Kevin froze for a second, then chuckled and let go of my hand. “Get some rest, Eve. Goodnight.” He turned and walked away. I couldn’t stop myself from calling out to his back. “Kevin, the person you’re cheating with is the eighteen-year-old me, isn’t it?” He paused but didn’t answer. I was right. I’d found cigarette ash beneath the Unforgettable painting. Eighteen-year-old Kevin didn’t smoke. It had to be the twenty-nine-year-old. Dusty rose and fiery terracotta. My two favorite lipstick shades my freshman year of college. The eighteen-year-old me was a vibrant, aspiring artist, full of life and sunshine. The almost-thirty-year-old me had lost all of that spirit, a money-obsessed recluse with no soul. The only person Kevin loved was the eighteen-year-old Evelyn. Luckily, the twenty-nine-year-old Evelyn wasn’t sad. Because the only thing she loved now was money. A hundred thousand dollars for a blind date. I agreed without a second thought. No one turns their back on money. While the twenty-nine-year-old Kevin was scheming about how to handle the two versions of me across time, the eighteen-year-old Kevin was doing everything in his power to make both versions of me happy. This was the fifth blind date my husband had arranged. I offered a polite smile to the balding programmer across from me. His first sentence was: “I’m almost thirty, twenty-eight actually, a little younger than you. My mom says I need to have a kid soon, preferably a boy. It would be best if we could have two in two years.” I stirred my coffee, quietly listening to him outline our post-nuptial life while mentally calculating how much my savings would grow after this was over. “Even though you’re about to be divorced, I don’t mind. My mom says a woman who’s been married before is more experienced and knows how to take care of a man. And she’ll be more skilled in bed. You know, one man plants the tree, another enjoys the shade.” “Oh, and my mom said if we get married, she’ll buy us a condo downtown…” SPLAT. A torrent of black coffee flew across the table, silencing his irritating monologue with its bitter aroma. “Your mom says this! Your mom says that! If your mom has so much to say, why don’t you just marry her?” “Two boys in two years? You want Evelyn to give you two sons? In your dreams!” “Even I wouldn’t dare to dream that big, and you’re already living it!” The programmer stared in shock at the familiar face of his assailant. “Dude, are you having a fight with yourself? Weren’t you the one who wanted to find a good man for your wife?” “None of your business! Take a look at yourself in a puddle! If you’re not weaned yet, don’t come out and ruin other people’s lives!” … A clean, fresh scent of mint washed over me. Eighteen-year-old Kevin grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the cafe amidst a string of curses. This was the fifth blind date he had ruined. The first guy got a fist to the face for staring at my chest a second too long. The second lost a tooth for calling me ugly. The third was so hideous he was kicked out the door before he could even step inside. The fourth was too poor. Kevin just tossed a credit card at him and told him to get lost. “Arrogant” was the only word for eighteen-year-old Kevin. Even now, with the twenty-nine-year-old version of himself watching us with a thunderous expression from his car, he wasn’t afraid. Young Kevin shot him the middle finger and put a helmet on my head. Over the roar of the motorcycle, the boy’s defiant hair whipped in the wind as he complained angrily, “I can’t believe he’d actually do something like this! The twenty-nine-year-old me is such a loser! Cheating on his wife! And then making her go on dates with other men!” “Thank god I came, or I can’t imagine how much you would have suffered!”

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