Author: Momo Chan

I was bitten by a zombie. The zombie stared at the blue blood oozing from my wound, frozen in place. “What are you looking at? I’m one of you,” I said calmly, pushing him away. I ran my other hand over the wound, and the torn flesh healed instantly. The zombie was stunned. “Stop staring. Look at you, all skin and bones… legs barely working. Go find something to eat,” I said with concern, patting him on the shoulder before walking away. 1 My name is Xyris, and I’m a pureblood vampire. The city teeming with zombies? That’s my masterpiece. I had been sealed at the bottom of the ocean for centuries until a scientist and his crew fished me out. The crystal coffin opened. The first thing I saw was a man in a white coat, wearing black-rimmed glasses. He was kind of handsome. Instead of being afraid, he said something incredibly cheesy in a gentle voice: “Are you lonely?” I rolled my eyes. “Duh. Try living for a few thousand years and tell me if you’re lonely,” I retorted, lying back down. I warned him that if he didn’t return me to the spot where I was sleeping, I’d drain him dry. He wasn’t fazed. Instead, he walked up to the coffin, resting his long, pale fingers on the edge, and leaned in to look at me. His voice was soft and slow, echoing clearly in the spacious, quiet lab. “If I could turn you into a human and end this endless loneliness, would you be willing?” Would I? Of course not! Loneliness aside, being a regular human is nowhere near as cool as being a vampire. But I thought this guy was talking big. I didn’t believe he had the power to turn me into a human, so I sat back up. 2 The guy introduced himself as Dr. Julian Chen, a scientist. But not just any scientist. He came from a long line of researchers dedicated to studying the “vampire virus.” Generations ago, his ancestors discovered that a small percentage of humans were born with antibodies to the vampire virus. But vampires had essentially gone extinct over three hundred years ago. Unwilling to let generations of research go to waste, these scientists spent over a century tracking me down. And finally, in Dr. Chen’s generation, they found me. “After centuries of change, the original group of humans with antibodies is gone. But their descendants must still be out there…” Dr. Chen pushed up his glasses, the lenses flashing coldly. “Step one is to find a human carrier.” I laughed. “You went through all this trouble to find me just so I could help you find someone? Sorry, not interested.” Dr. Chen walked to a console and pressed a button. A hidden door in the lab slid open. He walked into the shadows and wheeled out a woman tied to a wheelchair with thick ropes. She had delicate features and almond eyes that darted around in terror. Her face was streaked with tears, and her hair was matted with sweat. A large gag in her mouth prevented her from speaking; she could only whimper in pain. When she saw me step out of the crystal coffin, her eyes widened in horror. “A woman?” I looked from her back to Dr. Chen, confused. “Data suggests her blood has an 80% chance of carrying the antibodies,” Dr. Chen replied. “Oh?” I was suddenly interested. Barefoot, I walked around the wheelchair, inspecting her. She wore a sharp suit with a collared shirt underneath and pointed leather heels. Is this what humans wear nowadays? “You want me to bite her?” I asked. The woman in the chair stiffened. Dr. Chen nodded. “Then wash her first.” Dr. Chen: “?” “I have high standards for hygiene.” 3 As a vampire who’s lived for thousands of years, I’ve evolved beyond needing blood to survive. For my first meal after centuries of sleep, I didn’t want someone who smelled like sweat and fear. After Dr. Chen wheeled her away, I explored the lab. I didn’t recognize anything. Just glowing rectangular slabs and weirdly shaped machines. A desk was piled with papers. I flipped through them—research on vampires. The bottom images showed monstrous creatures with green faces and fangs. I laughed and put them down. Fake news. Such ugly, image-less monsters were an insult to the inherent elegance of vampires. After a while, Dr. Chen brought the woman back. She was now wearing a soft white robe, her hair tied up to reveal a clean, pale neck. She looked fresh and vulnerable. Her eyes were covered with a white bandage wrapped around her head. I liked this detail. Who wants their food staring at them while they eat? I paced toward her, sensing her trembling. Maybe because I’d waited so long, I was getting impatient. I placed my hand on her head, tilting it to expose more of her neck. I found a vein pulsing with fresh blood. I bared my fangs and bit down. The soft vein pierced instantly. Warm, sweet blood flowed into my mouth. Even though I didn’t need blood to live, the instinct was hard to suppress. I held her neck, drinking greedily. I only stopped when I felt her body temperature drop and she fainted. Reluctantly, I let go. Humans are so fragile. If I wasn’t careful, I’d drain her dry. Seeing I was done, Dr. Chen approached with bandages and medicine, but I stopped him. I glanced at him and smirked. “No need for that.” I ran my hand over her neck. Where my fingers passed, the two puncture wounds vanished as if they never existed. Dr. Chen paused, clearly surprised by my ability. He pushed up his glasses and muttered, “Seeing is believing.” I took the clean towel he offered and wiped the blood from my lips, staring at the unconscious woman with mixed feelings. As a vampire, I had principles. I could accept humans as food, but I couldn’t tolerate them becoming monsters because of me. This was the first time I hadn’t drained a human dry. Although I could predict what she would become, a part of me hoped for a miracle. Through her blood, I gained her memories—her logic, her way of speaking, everything about being a modern human. This was another ability I had evolved. Her name was Sarah, a corporate executive. She was kidnapped by Dr. Chen on her way home from work. About ten minutes passed. She wasn’t fully awake, but her body started twitching. Dr. Chen looked excited, putting on thermal glasses to monitor her changes. I sat on the desk, waiting calmly. Something was wrong. The smell. The fresh, clean scent was rapidly turning into the stench of rotting flesh. Humans couldn’t smell it yet, but it was oozing from her blood through her skin. Dr. Chen moved closer with a notepad, recording her transformation. Her breathing grew heavy and rapid. Suddenly, she woke up with a guttural, beast-like roar. Her eyes turned a milky gray. Her skin became ashen and dry, thin as paper, revealing black veins underneath. She wasn’t Sarah anymore. She was a zombie created by me. And she had a craving for blood even stronger and wilder than mine. The moment those dead eyes saw us, she struggled violently. If the ropes weren’t thick enough, she would have broken free. Watching this, I glanced sideways at Dr. Chen. “Where did you get that 80% figure?” He ignored my sarcasm. His gaze on Sarah was filled with excitement and greed. For a scientist studying vampires, witnessing a human turn into a zombie was a massive breakthrough. He didn’t have time for my snark. “Experiment failed,” Dr. Chen said, finishing his notes. He looked at me. “But now we have a zombie virus carrier. We won’t need to trouble you for future experiments, Miss Xyris.” I looked at Sarah. Ten minutes ago, she was a normal human. Now she was a hideous monster. I felt a twinge of guilt. But I quickly squashed it. I had slept too long. I forgot how many lives had ended in my jaws. “Good luck to you,” I said, picking up a phone from the desk. Sarah’s memories told me it was hers. I waved the phone. “Call me if there’s progress.” 4 With Sarah’s memories, I now thought like a modern independent woman. Her digital wallet had enough money for me to splurge for a while. I used the PIN from her memories to pay for a new outfit. “Thank you for your purchase. Here is your receipt.” The cashier smiled kindly, handing me a slip of paper. “Throw it away for me,” I said, twirling in front of the mirror. The black dress flared out. As I walked out of the store, a call came in. Caller ID: Ethan. Sarah’s crush. To avoid trouble, I hung up. The status changed to “Typing…”, then a message popped up: “Are you okay?” I typed: “I’m OK.” Sent. No reply. I searched my memories for his face. Handsome, but distant. I checked his profile. Blank. Black profile pic, black background. Low enthusiasm, no interaction. No wonder he was just a crush. I put the phone away and instinctively walked toward a coffee shop. It was Sarah’s habit. She liked to work in a specific cafe on lazy afternoons. Human food didn’t satisfy me, but I didn’t hate it. Since I was awake, I might as well see what the world had become. Passing a small convenience store, I saw no customers. The owner, a woman in her forties, was eating spicy chips and sunning herself by the door. I glanced at her spicy chips; she glanced at my all-black outfit. Neither of us noticed the breaking news on the TV inside— “Serious riots have broken out across the city. Large numbers of violent individuals are attacking civilians indiscriminately. Please exercise caution and ensure your safety…”

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I took a job as a tutor, but the kid I was teaching, Leo, was obsessed with gossip. One day, he looked at me mysteriously and whispered: “My cousin is broken.” “Broken where?” I asked. “You know… down there. It’s been broken since he was little.” My jaw dropped. I felt a wave of sympathy for the poor guy. Just then, Leo shouted: “Cousin!” I turned around, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head. “That’s your cousin?” “Yup.” Holy crap. That’s my crush. 01 Ethan was just as surprised as I was. He raised an eyebrow at me. “What a coincidence.” “My aunt said she found a tutor for Leo. I didn’t expect it to be you.” “Haha, yeah… small world,” I laughed dryly. Ethan walked over, ruffled Leo’s hair, and turned to me. “Are you done with the lesson? Heading back to campus? I can give you a ride.” “No thanks!” I rejected him instantly. My reaction was so intense I startled myself. Afraid he might misunderstand, I quickly added: “I… uh… dropped something on the way here. I was just going to walk back and look for it.” Before he could say anything else, I grabbed my backpack and fled. But ten minutes later. Ethan’s car pulled up beside me. He rolled down the window. “Did you find it?” “Not yet…” “Tell me what it is. I can help you look.” Ha. Haha. What was I looking for? An excuse. How was he supposed to help me find that? I shook my head miserably. “Really, it’s fine. You go ahead.” My mind was a mess. I had no idea how to face him now. 02 I hadn’t known Ethan long. We met last month at a board game cafe near campus. Ethan lost a game, and his dare was to get a girl’s number. Yes, he asked for mine. When I looked up and saw his objectively perfect face, my breath hitched. Heat crept up my neck. “Is that okay?” he asked again. I tried to act cool as I pulled out my phone for him to scan. My roommates saw right through me. They exchanged glances and immediately launched a full-scale offensive, enthusiastically inviting him to join our table. They kept creating opportunities for me. They claimed I knew palmistry and insisted I read Ethan’s palm. “Sure,” he said, extending his hand. I had no choice but to take his fingertips. I don’t know if it was his nervousness or mine, but our skin grew damp where we touched. I let go quickly and made something up: “Your palm lines… looks like you have a lot of romantic luck. Many suitors.” “Really?” His voice was soft, like a feather brushing my ear. I nodded solemnly. His smile deepened. Warmth spread from his eyes. “Are you one of them?” I froze, my heart skipping a beat. Before I could respond, he laughed. “Just kidding. Not offended, right?” I admit, I have double standards. If a guy I’m not interested in says “hello,” it’s harassment. But if I’m interested? That’s a different story. Since that day, we’ve been chatting on and off. It was getting more and more ambiguous… Just two days ago, he asked me to go for a walk on the track. Trying to look cute, I wore a miniskirt. He wore three layers and was sweating. We walked slowly around the track. It was freezing at night. I sneezed. Without missing a beat: “So cold.” “Thank god, you’re finally cold.” He took off his jacket and draped it over me. I realized something. “You wore so many layers just to give this to me?” “Yeah.” He looked at me calmly. His beautiful eyes didn’t waver. My face burned hotter. And yesterday, I asked him to help design a logo for a competition. He revised it over and over, working until late at night. Feeling guilty, I sent him a red packet (money transfer). [Sorry for the trouble.] He didn’t accept it. He replied: [Not trouble. I’m happy to be needed by you.] My desire to date him was at an all-time high. But who could have predicted— Life would slap me in the face today. Why? Why, God? I’ve been a good person all my life. Is this my karma? Falling in love with a eunuch? 03 Friday afternoon, I went back to tutor Leo. Ethan was already sitting in the living room. I awkwardly changed my shoes, tripping over my own feet. Ethan was as friendly as ever. Pouring me water, complimenting my outfit, asking if I wanted to stay for dinner. “Haha.” I laugh when I’m uncomfortable. I brushed him off and dove into Leo’s room. The little brat was ready, sitting primly at his desk. I wiped the small whiteboard and started the lesson. As usual, thirty minutes was his limit. Once the clock hit the half-hour mark, he melted onto the desk like a boneless chicken and started gossiping. “Teacher, did you know? The father and son upstairs are chasing the same girl.” “Oh, and my dad is dating again. He matched with one of his former students. Can you believe it?” “My mom seems to be dating someone too…” “Leo,” I interrupted. “Can we talk after the lesson?” “Please, Teacher! Let me finish this sentence or I’ll explode.” I took a deep breath. “Go ahead.” “I heard my mom on the phone yesterday. She said whoever wants to be her boyfriend has to solve two math problems first. And the guy agreed! He even wrote her a love poem. Want to hear it? I memorized it.” “No thanks.” I was speechless. No wonder his mom, a math teacher herself, hired a tutor for him. This kid was born in a gossip column. Finally, the lesson ended. I picked two questions from a test paper to check his progress. He finished quickly. I graded them. One right, one wrong. Okay, I guess. I told him to correct the mistake, but he went “Huh?” “But I wrote the same thing as the answer key.” “The answer key is wrong.” “Really?” Leo picked at his face, unconvinced. This kid is stubborn. I had to call Ethan in for backup. Ethan walked in and smiled immediately. “What? Are you going to test me with math problems too?” 04 I paused. Then I realized— He was sitting in the living room looking proper, but he was eavesdropping the whole time. A few days ago, my heart would have fluttered. Now, it felt like a herd of alpacas stampeding through my chest. Who understands my complex feelings? With Ethan and me double-checking, we confirmed the answer key was wrong. Leo finally accepted defeat and started correcting his work. I packed my bag to leave. Ethan stopped me. “Stay for dinner.” “No,” I refused instinctively. “I…” “Please,” he interrupted. “I started cooking before you arrived. If you say no, it’ll all go to waste.” The words caught in my throat. I heard myself say: “Okay then.” I have to admit, Ethan is a great cook. Handsome, can cook… major bonus points. But… My eyes drifted down to his jeans. He seemed to sense it and looked at me weirdly. I quickly looked up at the ceiling. “By the way—” “Big.” He blurted it out. I froze. Two seconds later, my face exploded with heat. What? What the hell?! Did he think I was making a dirty joke? “I meant—” “It’s our department’s turn for the physical fitness test next week. I saw your department already finished.” “I wanted to ask if it was strict. Can I slack off?” I was done. Done. This man’s mouth was harder than diamond. Even if the sky falls, his mouth will hold it up. It’s gone, and he says it’s big! Big ghost! Ethan stayed calm, quickly recovering. “Some groups are strict, some are okay. Try to get the short-haired female teacher.” “Okay.” Silence fell over the table. Suddenly, Leo reconnected to the conversation. “What’s big?” “This chicken leg.” I put a drumstick in his bowl. “Oh.” He looked skeptical. After dinner, Ethan offered to drive me back. Luckily, I anticipated this and called an Uber in advance. I greased my feet and ran faster than a rabbit.

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Chapter 1 Three years into my marriage with Ethan, I started thinking about divorce. My best friend, Chloe, thought I was insane. “He’s literally the perfect man. One in a million. Why on earth would you want to leave him?” Ethan was a perfect husband. I couldn’t pick out a single flaw. I just smiled silently and asked her to play a game with me. “Send a text to your husband.” “Tell him you’re not coming home tonight.” I typed the message in my chat with Ethan. [I’m not coming home tonight.] My finger hovered for a few seconds before I hit send. Once it went through, I waved my phone at Chloe. “Don’t say anything else. Just that one sentence.” “You don’t know my hubby? He’ll call immediately.” Chloe confidently pulled out her phone and tapped away. “Sent. Now what?” Then— Her phone rang instantly. “See? Told you.” Chloe gave me a playful glare and put it on speaker. “Why aren’t you coming home, babe? Aren’t you meeting Sarah? Does she not want to go home? You can bring her here, or… do you just want to stay at her place?” The voice on the other end rambled on, firing off question after question. “Just teasing you! How could I not come home? Sarah just wanted to play a game… But babe, it’s raining outside, and it’s hard to get a cab here. Can you come pick us up?” Chloe explained quickly, her voice turning sugary sweet. Her eyes were soft and affectionate, filled with a giddy happiness rare in married women. She was clearly nourished by love. “Okay, okay, I’m changing now. Wait for me, babe~” As if to prove a point. The voice on the phone was sickly sweet too. I listened with a smile for a while, then downed my drink in one go. Finally, my phone buzzed. A new message— [Okay, have fun.] From Ethan. Chapter 2 I declined the couple’s offer for a ride and took a taxi home alone. The rain was getting heavier. I ran from the complex gate to my door, still getting soaked. Rarely, I saw Ethan as soon as I walked in. The ten-foot-long dining table was covered in legal documents like a battlefield map. He sat at the far left, facing his laptop, posture perfect. His shirt sleeves were neatly rolled up, revealing firm forearms. His usually indifferent gaze was mostly hidden behind thin, gold-rimmed glasses. The vintage-style chandelier cast a warm yellow light, softening his features. I stood in the entryway, dazed. The long table in front of me was custom-made before we got married. It was wide and long enough to spread out all my scriptwriting materials. Besides occasionally serving its intended purpose, it was mostly my desk. Ethan was a man of extreme order. In his mind, dining tables were for eating. Work belonged in the study. This was the first time I’d seen him use this table for anything other than meals. He had just been promoted to Senior Partner at his law firm. He must have taken on a tricky case, given the mountain of paperwork. Not wanting to disturb him, I wiped the rain from my face and quietly changed my shoes. But as I put them away, I accidentally kicked the shoe cabinet. Alerted by the noise, Ethan paused for a second, then immediately closed his laptop. He didn’t ask why I was back. He didn’t ask if it was raining. He didn’t ask where I went or what I ate. As he quickly stacked the bound documents into neat piles, he said, “Sorry, I’ll go to the study.” His tone was polite and apologetic. Like a trespasser caught in someone else’s territory, rushing to return it. I stared at his movements. The tiny bit of warmth that had inexplicably risen in my heart suddenly dissipated. “It’s okay.” I took a deep breath and stopped him. “I drank tonight, I don’t want to work. You can stay here.” Ethan knew I had a severe alcohol allergy. Unless absolutely necessary, I never touched a drop. He looked up, staring at my obviously wet hair for several seconds, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. But in the end, he asked nothing. He just put down the half-stacked files and nodded faintly. “Okay, get some rest early.” Chapter 3 Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe the rain. I couldn’t even stand to finish my shower. I slid down the wall into a squat. The hot water poured down, turning cold by the time it hit my skin. I shivered uncontrollably but had no strength to stand. Ethan was a perfect husband. —In the eyes of outsiders. Good family, good job, good looks. His temper and character were flawless. A few years ago, my grad school advisor introduced him to me like he was handing over a treasure. “I guarantee you won’t find another young man as outstanding as Ethan even with a lantern! He’s one in a million!” My advisor was always strict and picky. Hearing him praise someone like that for the first time piqued my interest, so I let him set us up. Without exaggeration. The first time I saw Ethan, my heart skipped a beat. Even though he seemed exceptionally cold that day, it was truly love at first sight for me. Later, at Ethan’s initiative, we met a few more times. I discovered our values aligned perfectly. Like we were destined to meet. In just six months, we went smoothly from meeting to dating to marriage. His mother adored me. The first time I visited, she held my hand and wouldn’t let go. Laughing through tears, she kept saying, “Thank you for liking my Ethan. Good girl, thank you.” My parents were 100% satisfied with Ethan. Friends and relatives who met him would tease me in unison. “You must have saved a country in your past life to find such a good man.” Honestly, I used to think so too. I loved exercising and had plenty of energy. Before I moved in, the basement was redesigned into my personal gym at Ethan’s request. All equipment was tailored to my height. Machines I hadn’t used in a while would be quietly replaced. The smart speakers would play my favorite music when I stepped in. The movie list in the home theater updated instantly based on my preferences. I’m a writer, a night owl. Ethan had mild neurasthenia, but to accommodate me, he got used to sleeping with an eye mask and earplugs. Holidays and anniversaries always came with flowers and gifts. Whenever he traveled for business, he brought back souvenirs. Occasionally, when I was down, he’d bring home cake and say, “Eat something sweet, you’ll feel better.” Ethan was too perfect. He was meticulous and thoughtful; every kindness was tangible. Marrying me was a compromise for him. —When love hit me hardest, I always thought that. Knock knock. Two light taps on the bathroom door. I must have been in there too long. I struggled to stand up, calling out, “Almost done.” Ethan’s silhouette lingered outside the frosted glass for three seconds before walking away. He said nothing. Like he had never been there. The drunkenness washed away by the shower water came rushing back. I hastily toweled off, threw on a robe, and yanked the door open. The moment I stepped out, I froze. —Ethan was standing solemnly to the left of the door frame, watching me with calm eyes. Like he had something to say. Chapter 4 It was a… hard feeling to describe. A mix of anticipation and nervousness. In the short time our eyes met, I rehearsed countless openings in my mind. If he asked, “Are you in a bad mood?” If he said, “You’re allergic to alcohol, you shouldn’t drink.” If he got angry and said, “Why are you so impulsive? You said you weren’t coming back, then came back in the rain?” I think I would have burst into tears immediately. I would have used the alcohol as an excuse to throw a tantrum, just to try one last time for this marriage, to ask Ethan the question that had plagued me for so long. But after a few seconds of silence. Ethan spoke in a flat tone: “Grandpa called. He wants seafood.” “I booked a restaurant. I’ll pick you up after court tomorrow.” His eyes and expression were normal. Like he waited here just to notify me. I pinched my palm. I felt like a balloon about to explode, suddenly deflated with a pfft. The “Grandpa” Ethan referred to was my grandfather, who had Alzheimer’s. He was lucid sometimes, confused others, often forgetting everyone but clinging to Ethan. “…No need.” My lips parted twice before I could speak, my throat tight and raspy. “Send me the location. I’ll go myself.” I rarely refused Ethan. Especially for small things like “personally driving me,” which proved his care and our intimacy. So, Ethan looked slightly puzzled. But he asked nothing, just stared at me silently for a few seconds. Before turning away, he said calmly, “Okay.” Noon the next day. After a topic selection meeting, I drove to the restaurant alone. A family gathering, both sides present. Grandpa was throwing a tantrum, clutching Ethan’s shirt sleeve and refusing to let go. Ethan coaxed him softly while peeling shrimp with a calm expression, showing no impatience. The two mothers were taking turns, their expectant smiles identical. “We’re both turning sixty next year. If you two don’t have kids soon, we won’t have the energy to help.” “Yeah, you’ve been married three years. Time to hurry up.” Ethan placed a bowl of peeled shrimp in front of Grandpa and put one in my bowl. Hearing this, he smiled faintly and responded, “We’re trying.” His tone was solemn, expression serious. He charmed the two mothers out of their grumbling, both laughing and saying “That’s right.” The atmosphere heated up. I looked down at the shiny white shrimp corpse in my bowl and felt a sudden wave of nausea. Unable to suppress it, I covered my mouth and rushed to the restroom.

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While accompanying my parents to transfer the title of my new house, I saw a video my sister posted online titled “A Toast to the Past.” In the video, my sister was smiling, basking in my parents’ adoring gazes. “First toast: When I was little, I was misdiagnosed with leukemia. My parents had a second child to save me, but it turned out to be a false alarm. Afraid they couldn’t take care of me properly, they sent my little sister to live in the countryside.” “Second toast: After my sister came back, our family went bankrupt. But for the sake of my image, my parents still threw me a huge birthday party at a luxury hotel.” “Third toast: I didn’t get into my dream college, so my parents sold everything to send me abroad. Now, I’m happily living off them.” “Fourth toast: To my parents again. I’m getting married the day after tomorrow. To give me status in my husband’s family, Mom is secretly transferring the family house to my name tomorrow.” I realized I couldn’t lie to myself anymore. 1 I was alone in the bathroom when I saw the video. The air around me seemed to freeze. I zoomed in on the video, playing it over and over. Three faces I knew better than anyone. Unwilling to believe it, I switched to a burner account and commented: [Does the poster have a sister?] Surprisingly, my sister replied quickly. [The house was actually bought by my sister. We’re transferring it to my parents today, but she doesn’t know it’s ultimately going to me~] I gripped my phone tight, then let go. My mom’s voice urged from outside: “Paige, did you fall in? Hurry up, our number is almost called!” I wiped my eyes but couldn’t open my mouth. Recently, I bought a three-bedroom apartment downtown with my own savings, paid in full. When my parents found out, they repeatedly persuaded me to transfer the title to them. “It’s safer in our name. If your boyfriend is just after your property, this protects you.” My sister, Chloe, chimed in: “Mom and Dad are right. It’s not safe for a girl to have property in her name.” I discussed it with my boyfriend, Liam. He was furious. “Paige, do you just do whatever your parents say? You’re an adult. Can’t you think for yourself?” We had a huge fight. Subconsciously, I believed my parents. I ignored Liam’s hesitation. Walking out of the bathroom, I rubbed my dry eyes. My mom didn’t notice anything wrong. She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the registration desk, scolding me as usual. “You child, you’re always so slow. You’re nothing like your sister.” I paused. Thinking of the video, I couldn’t help but ask: “Mom, why did you send me to the countryside when I was born?” 2 As soon as I spoke, my mom’s face changed. Embarrassment mixed with guilt, finally settling into impatience. “I told you, your dad and I were busy. We couldn’t handle two kids, and you were a high-needs baby. We had no choice.” I swallowed the bitterness in my throat. I already knew the answer. Chloe and I are only ten months apart. When she was born, she was misdiagnosed with leukemia. My parents heard cord blood could save her, so my mom risked her life to have a second child immediately. Me. But fate loves a joke. As soon as I was born prematurely, the hospital revealed Chloe was misdiagnosed. She just had malnutrition. Meanwhile, I was born six pounds four ounces, healthy and loud. Back then, my parents were hoping for a son. They couldn’t bear to send Chloe away, so I became the abandoned one. When I was six, Grandpa died. My parents brought Chloe back for the funeral. That’s when I learned from Grandma’s whispers that I wasn’t an unwanted orphan. I had parents and a sister. After the funeral, Grandma held my mom’s hand, teary-eyed, saying she was getting too old to care for me and wanted them to take me back to the city. I hid behind Grandma, terrified of leaving her, crying my eyes out. My mom just frowned and said, “Mom, it’s not that I don’t want to. Look at her, she’s not close to us at all. Taking care of Chloe is already exhausting; I can’t handle her.” In the end, I was left behind. From that day on, the village ladies looked at me with careful pity. Like tiny needles pricking my heart. Not painful, just uncomfortable. Later, I studied hard and got into a top middle school in the county with the highest scores. That’s when my parents seemed to remember they had a forgotten daughter in the countryside. When I first returned to the city, I gathered the courage to ask why they sent me away. Their answer then was word-for-word the same as my mom’s answer now. 3 I knew everything. I knew about the misdiagnosis, their desire for a son, their hesitation-free choice to keep Chloe. As long as they were willing to explain, even if it was the same lie, I chose to believe it. Because deep down, I wished those reasons were true. I wished they cared about me, even a little. “Mom, Dad, do you know what day it is?” I sat on the cold bench, looking at my anxious parents. They froze. “What day is it?” Recovering quickly, my mom smiled coyly. “I know, it’s an auspicious day for property transfer! You silly child, being superstitious!” Bitterness surged in my throat, suffocating me. “Today is my birthday.” Silence again. Memories flooded back. When I was first brought home, before I could adjust, Dad’s business went bankrupt. The big apartment, the car, the cabinet full of dolls in Chloe’s room—all mortgaged overnight. My birthday coincided with moving day. The truck rumbled downstairs. Mom busied herself in the kitchen and brought out a bowl of longevity noodles with two pieces of bok choy. Red-eyed, she told me: “Paige, I’m sorry. We have no money. I can only make you noodles. Look at your sister, she didn’t even get noodles for her birthday. You need to be sensible and yield to her.” I thought Chloe really suffered. From then on, I stopped celebrating birthdays. I yielded everything to her. I washed the dishes she didn’t want to wash. I wore the old clothes she didn’t like. I never asked for the toys she demanded. Until the college entrance exam results came out. I held my acceptance letter to a top university, my fingertips burning. In the living room, Mom was crying over Chloe failing to get in. “My poor baby, we can’t afford two kids in college. How can we face Paige…” Those words stabbed my heart. Watching Chloe’s grievance and Mom’s tears, I silently stuffed my acceptance letter deep into a drawer. That night, Chloe said she was going south to work to “support my education.” My parents sighed in silence. “Chloe is sacrificing so much.” She left that night with her luggage. A few days later, Mom held a recruitment flyer. “Your sister is working. We can’t afford your tuition. You should go work in a factory too.” For the next three years, I worked on an assembly line until my hands were calloused. I kept $50 a month and sent the rest home. My parents always said Chloe was suffering in the south, making it impossible for me to mention going back to school. Until I saw Chloe’s video today. It wasn’t that we were too poor for two bowls of noodles. The grievance of “poverty” was reserved only for me. Mom’s “suffering” meant Chloe didn’t have to work in a factory. Chloe’s “work” was studying abroad. And I, who gave up my dreams and suffered for three years, was the fool kept in the dark. The cold broadcast called Mom’s number, pulling me back. Looking at my anxious parents, I suddenly felt choked by that bowl of noodles from when I was twelve. 4 “Oh, stop it. You’re an adult, why are you so petty?” Mom waved her hand dismissively. “It’s just a birthday. I’ll make you longevity noodles when we get home.” Dad stood up, urging, “Alright, enough talk. Let’s transfer the title.” I shook off Mom’s hand. While they weren’t looking, I snatched the number slip. I tore it to shreds. “Mom, Dad, I have work. Let’s do this another time.” Mom stared at my hand and screamed: “Paige! Why did you tear it?!” Her voice was shrill and trembling, eyes fixed on the confetti falling from my fingers. Dad’s face darkened instantly, anger burning in his tone: “Do you know how hard it was to get this number? Your mom and I came yesterday to ask about the process and lined up before dawn today! You just tore it up? What are you doing?” 5 Their “important business” was just taking my property to give Chloe face in her new family. Dad’s desperation was undisguised. He didn’t notice my knuckles turning white. I stepped back, avoiding their hands. I dropped the last pieces of paper. “I told you, work emergency. Another time.” Seeing my resolve, Mom’s tone softened instantly, coaxing: “What can’t wait? The transfer takes a moment. Afterwards, Mom will take you to eat something good, better than noodles, okay?” She moved closer, trying to take my hand, desperation in her eyes. I stepped back again. Dad’s face was grim, brow furrowed hard. He guessed with certainty: “Did that boyfriend of yours say something? Why did you change your mind?” Mom’s brow furrowed too, her softness gone. Her voice rose, sharp and scolding: “I knew that boyfriend wasn’t good! He’s manipulating you! Paige, don’t be stupid. Only Mom and Dad truly care about you! Let’s talk at home, I’ll get a new number. We must transfer the title today!” She turned toward the machine. Watching one rushing to judge and the other rushing to transfer, the fire in my chest exploded. I couldn’t hold it back. I screamed with all my strength. My voice trembled. “Are you thinking about me, or have you only ever thought about Chloe?!”

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My wife said she didn’t understand the “silent treatment,” yet in three years of marriage, she never once tried to make up with me. The first time she did it, I was proud. We ignored each other for seven days straight. The seventh time, I started to panic. I tried everything I could think of, but she wouldn’t break. By the eleventh time, I had learned to swallow my own emotions. I would apologize before Sophia even had to say a word. I thought she was just born cold, that no one could ever warm her heart. Until the third year of our marriage, when I accidentally scorched one of her dresses while ironing. Sophia didn’t say anything, but that night, she packed a bag and checked into a hotel. On the third day of being blocked and ignored, I went to her office with a handwritten apology. As I passed by her glass-walled room, I saw her leaning over, a fond smile on her face as she spoke to her pouting male assistant. “I’m sorry,” she said softly, “I shouldn’t have raised my voice. It’s been 57 minutes and you haven’t said a word to me. Can we please not do this silent treatment thing?” I froze. The apology letter in my hand felt like it was on fire. So, she did understand the silent treatment. The person she wanted to coax just wasn’t me. 1 The apology letter had become our unspoken ritual over the past three years. Every time she shut me out, it was my handwritten note that served as the bridge back to her. The first time I wrote one, my eyes were red with humiliation. One part of me screamed at how pathetic I was, debasing myself for a woman like this. The other part just couldn’t stop writing. Because the silence was just too damn hard to bear. Then came the third time, the ninth, the seventeenth… an endless, soul-crushing cycle. Even on the way to her office today, I was obsessing over it: Was my handwriting neat enough? Did my words sound sincere? Surely, after she read it, she wouldn’t be angry anymore. But now, watching the genuine warmth in her eyes as she looked at her assistant, a chill shot up from my feet and seized my entire body. So, she did understand the silent treatment. The person she wanted to coax just wasn’t me. While Sophia was in a meeting, I asked her assistant to meet me. As I ordered our coffee, I studied the young man across from me. He wasn’t as handsome as me, his features were merely pleasant. He was thin, lacking any real masculine presence. As for family background, Sophia and I came from similar standing; he was just an intern. By every measure, he couldn’t compare to me. But I had still lost to him. In three years of marriage, Sophia had given me the silent treatment countless times, and not once had she tried to break it. I had convinced myself she was just a cold person, that it was her nature. Today, I learned that was a lie. Sophia could smile with affection. She knew how painful the silence could be. She knew you had to swallow your pride to make a man happy. But I didn’t understand. Where did I lose? That’s why I asked him to meet me. I needed the answer. Alex hadn’t expected my question. The nervous “caught by the wife” expression on his face froze. Disbelief flashed in his eyes. “That’s… all you want to know?” The letter in my hand felt scorching hot. I crumpled it into a ball and shoved it into my bag. Then, with a sincerity that was almost painful, I asked again. “Yes. That’s all I want to know. Can you tell me? Where did I lose?” 2 Alex smirked. Then, realizing I was serious, the smirk slowly morphed into a look of pity, of compassion for a lesser being. He took a sip of his coffee, revealing a classic Rolex on his wrist. “Last month, Sophia took me to a gala. I complained that the smell of champagne clinging to her dress was too strong.” “The next day, this watch was on my desk.” I stared at him, stunned. Sophia had been drinking heavily that night. When she came home, her face was flushed. I’m allergic to alcohol; even the strong scent gives me a rash. So I had offered to sleep in the guest room. She had flown into a rage and didn’t speak to me for a week. “And this tie,” Alex gestured to the dark, patterned tie he was wearing, the gold thread in its design shimmering in the light. “Sophia was three minutes late letting me off work because of a client meeting. She bought this for me on her business trip to Paris as an apology.” I nodded, feeling a sense of detachment, of unreality. The week before her Paris trip had been my birthday. A week in advance, I had reminded her to get me a gift. Three days in advance, I had reminded her to set an alarm so she wouldn’t forget to wish me a happy birthday. She still forgot. And when I confronted her, her first reaction was anger. “You know how busy I am,” she had snapped, before coldly grabbing her suitcase and leaving for the airport. I was so hurt I didn’t speak to her for two weeks. During those days, when neither of us would back down, she had still remembered to buy a tie for Alex? I wanted to laugh, but my eyes were burning. “Is there more?” I asked, my voice hollow. Alex gave me a surprised look, as if he couldn’t understand why I was actively seeking out more pain. “The reason for your current fight,” he said, leaning in. “You probably don’t know. The dress you ruined… I was the one who gave it to her.” “She promised me she would wear it to her client meeting this week.” It all clicked into place. No wonder. It was just a dress. How could that be enough to make her move out? I thought about last night, how I had swallowed my pride and carefully written each word on the page. Sophia, I know I was wrong. I’ll be more careful with the housework. I won’t be so clumsy again. Sophia, I’ll buy you another one, exactly the same. Please don’t be angry with me. Thinking about it now, it was just… pathetic. I couldn’t sit there any longer. I nodded at Alex and turned to leave. I knew where I’d lost. And I knew exactly how my marriage to Sophia had to end. It would begin with this silence. 3 Leaving the café, I went straight to a law firm. I paid extra to have a divorce agreement drafted immediately. While I was waiting, I ran into Sophia. It seemed her company’s legal team was having some issues, and she was here to negotiate a new partnership. The moment she saw me, her brow furrowed. “What are you doing here?” She seemed to assume I was there to apologize. Her eyes instinctively darted to my bag. “I don’t have time to read your letter right now. Wait until I’m finished…” “Mr. Hayes, we’re ready for you.” A lawyer, Mr. Evans, poked his head out of his office and waved me in. I stood up. Sophia grabbed my arm. “You’re here to see a lawyer?” Before I could answer, she let go, her expression turning dismissive. “You even made a lawyer’s appointment just for a chance to run into me.” She sighed, as if granting a great favor. “Fine. Since you went to all this trouble, we’ll have dinner tonight.” I knew this was her signal for reconciliation. The old me would have lit up, nodding eagerly. But this time, I wanted to be the one who didn’t understand. I smiled politely. “I have plans tonight. Maybe some other time.” The next time we have dinner, it will be to discuss our divorce. Without another word, I walked past her and into Mr. Evans’s office, leaving Sophia standing there, utterly bewildered. It felt good. 4 It was dark by the time I finished with the lawyer. Sophia hadn’t waited for me. The receptionist said she left the moment her meeting was over, as if she were trying to escape someone. That someone, of course, was me. I knew my place. This wasn’t the first time she’d publicly snubbed me. But it was the first time I didn’t feel sad. I went to the mall and bought myself the watch I’d always wanted. Then I went to an arcade and played games for hours. Finally, I went for hot pot, something I’d been craving for ages. Sophia was a neat freak and couldn’t stand the smell of chili and spices that clung to your clothes afterward. So, I was never allowed to eat it. The last time I’d had it was a year ago. We were in the middle of a three-day silent treatment over something trivial. I was used to it, but that day was our wedding anniversary. Out of spite, I went to a hot pot restaurant, ordered the spiciest broth, and came home smelling like a chili bomb. We had a massive fight. She had asked me, her face like ice, why I would deliberately do something that I knew would upset her. I had asked her, my eyes red, why she would give me the silent treatment on our wedding anniversary. Why couldn’t you just… try to make up with me? I don’t remember her expression that day. But I remember the bone-deep chill of her indifference. It’s a cold that still makes me shiver. But that was all in the past. I scooped up a large piece of beef, my heart content. It was late when I got home. I showered and was about to go to bed when a message from Sophia came through. “Have you seen my green hair clip? I need it for tomorrow.” In three years, this was the first time she had ever messaged me first during one of our silences. I stared at the screen for a few seconds, wondering if it was a prank. After checking her name several times, I slowly typed back. “It’s in the glass cabinet in the walk-in closet, third shelf. Do you want me to call a courier?” Before, no matter where she was, I would have dropped everything to bring her what she needed. But now, it was almost midnight. I needed my sleep. Silence from her end. Just as I was putting my phone down, another message arrived. “Tomorrow is our anniversary. What do you want? That model kit?” I froze. That was the gift I had asked for last year. A year too late. When I didn’t reply, another message came. “You came to the office today? There’s nothing between Alex and me. Don’t cause trouble for him.” Her words hit me like a splash of cold water. Of course. She was defending her little lover. No wonder she suddenly remembered to get me a gift. She was afraid I would hurt her precious boy. I laughed out loud, then hit the voice message button, my tone a mix of self-mockery and release. “Don’t worry. I won’t do a thing.” Because I’m already preparing to leave you. I glanced at the clock. It was well past midnight. A bit late to ask her to come over. After a moment’s thought, I sent one last message. “Sophia, don’t stay at the hotel anymore. Come home tomorrow night.” “I have an agreement I need you to sign.” 5 The next day, I woke up early and started packing. I considered making dinner, but then thought better of it. Sophia never liked my cooking. If she came home to a table full of food, she’d probably just get annoyed again. I smiled to myself and ordered a lavish spread from a restaurant instead. By 6 PM, Sophia hadn’t replied. I took the food from the delivery guy, gave him a generous tip, and asked him to take the trash bags by the door. The bags weren’t heavy. They were filled with all the apology letters I had written over the years. Sophia had kept them in her desk. I’d found them and thrown them all out. By 7 PM, Sophia hadn’t arrived. I wasn’t worried. I started eating and happened to scroll past Alex’s social media feed. [Tripped on the way out and my ankle is killing me. Luckily, Sophia was there to drive me home.] When was the last time I sprained my ankle? The 17th? My ankle had swollen up like a balloon. The pain was so bad I took painkillers and passed out. I’d missed her calls. Without a word, she had blocked my number and only unblocked it a few days ago. I still remember what she’d said: “Leo, it’s just a sprained ankle. Are you going to die?” No, a sprained ankle won’t kill you. But her coldness killed my heart. I yawned, gave Alex’s post a “like,” and went back to my food. My phone immediately buzzed. A single question mark from Sophia. I didn’t reply. Ten minutes later, I heard a key in the lock. Sophia stormed in, looking furious. But she stopped short when she saw the half-eaten takeout containers on the table. “You didn’t cook?” I flinched, instinctively touching a small scar on my hand from a cooking burn. “You don’t like my cooking, remember?” She was speechless, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes. But she never showed her true emotions to me. She handed me a gift box. “Anniversary present. Open it.” I took it and glanced inside. Yep. The year-old model kit. “Thank you.” My polite response seemed to throw her off completely. Her gaze hardened. “I didn’t mean to be late. There was an emergency at work. I came as soon as I could.” She continued, a defensive edge to her voice. “Driving him home was just… convenient. It was on my way. Don’t get the wrong idea…” I nodded. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.” I truly didn’t. But my indifference seemed to infuriate her. There was even a hint of a pout in her tone. “Then why didn’t you get me a gift?” The moment the words left her mouth, she looked surprised at herself. It was completely out of character. But her pride, especially with me, was ironclad. Her expression quickly darkened. She shot me a cold glare and turned to leave. I knew what this was. The start of another silent war. “Wait.” I called out to her, walking to a drawer and rummaging through it. She turned back, a slight smirk on her lips as she walked up behind me. “What are you looking for? My present…?” “Found it!” I spun around, my voice buzzing with an excitement I couldn’t contain. “I had a lawyer draft a divorce agreement. Sign it.”

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We were driving through a blinding blizzard in Aspen when my husband kicked me out of the car. He needed to lighten the load, he said, to ensure his “one true love” made it to her piano competition on time. I clung desperately to the door handle, begging, but he floored the gas. The car dragged me across the icy asphalt for thirty feet before my grip failed. Lying in the snow, watching his taillights fade into the white void, my heart turned to ash. I thought I would die on that mountain. Instead, a passerby found me. The trauma didn’t kill me; it woke me up. The memories I had lost in a plane crash eight years ago came flooding back. The first thing I did after waking up was erase the woman I had been for the last eight years. 1 “Miss, are you absolutely certain? Once we process this, the identity of ‘Kate Monroe’ will cease to exist. There will be no record of her.” I nodded, my expression hollow. “I’m sure.” My name wasn’t Kate Monroe anyway. I was Vivian Sterling. Eight years ago, I survived an aviation disaster but lost my memory. I washed up in the city, confused and alone. The Anderson family took me in, and eventually, I became their daughter-in-law. Jackson Anderson and I were once truly in love. We were the golden couple of our social circle. Until two years ago, when his first love returned from abroad. Then, everything rotted. I looked up at the massive LED screen in Times Square. It was broadcasting the National Piano Championship live. Just as expected, without me there to delay them, Lily Summers had taken first place. On screen, Jackson was smiling—a gentle, adoring look I hadn’t seen in years. “Lily is the champion of my heart. No one compares. As her manager, I couldn’t be prouder.” “Oh?” the interviewer teased. “Apologies, Mr. Anderson. I assumed the champion of your heart would be your wife.” Jackson chuckled, a dismissive sound. “In terms of marriage, yes, my wife is first. But when it comes to talent? It’s Lily, absolutely.” Watching from the sidewalk, I let out a short, sarcastic laugh. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t used in nearly a decade. “Pete. Come get me in New York. Seven days.” I turned away from the noise of the city and walked into a tattoo parlor. “Afternoon, miss. Looking for some ink?” “The name over my heart,” I said, my voice flat. “Remove it.” “J.A.? Those initials must mean a lot to you.” I looked down at my chest, then offered the artist a bitter smile. “Not anymore.” Four hours later, I walked home carrying a custom cake. Jackson was already back, lounging on the sofa, scrolling through his phone. He glanced up. “What’s the occasion? Why the cake?” The last embers of hope in my chest died out. Today was my birthday. “Nothing important,” I said softly. “Just felt like buying one.” “Perfect timing, actually. Lily won the competition today. I’ll take that to her celebration dinner.” He tossed his phone aside. At the mere mention of Lily, his eyes softened, his lips curving into a smile. I stood silent for a moment, then nodded. I went to the bedroom to change. Jackson barged in a moment later. “Kate, you should come to the party. You won that title five years in a row; your presence would be a great endorsement for her.” He stopped, frowning at my chest. “What happened to your tattoo? Why is it bandaged?” 2 “I got hurt when you dragged me with the car.” A flicker of guilt crossed Jackson’s face. “Well, thank god it’s just a scrape. That tattoo is the proof of our love; we can’t have it damaged.” I gave a perfunctory nod. “Mm. Understood.” His expression relaxed. “Go get ready. We need to leave for the party now.” The moment I slid into the passenger seat, the little bobblehead bear on the dashboard chimed. It was a custom recording, and Lily’s sickly-sweet voice filled the cabin. “Kiss kiss, big brother! Have a beautiful day!” Jackson’s face stiffened slightly. “Lily just recorded that as a joke. Don’t overthink it.” “Mm,” I replied, staring out the window. I didn’t say another word. I sat rigid, staring at the blurring city lights. Because under my heel, I could feel a tube of lipstick. It was Lily’s favorite brand. But I didn’t want to expose him. I didn’t want a fight. I had already decided to leave; arguing now felt like screaming at a wall. Halfway there, Jackson’s phone buzzed with messages from Lily. He had forgotten that his phone was still synced to the car’s display. Lily-Cat: When are you getting here, Jackson? I’m hungry. Jackson: Hungry again? Didn’t I just feed you in the car? You greedy little kitten. I stared at the screen, my mind involuntarily painting a picture of exactly how he had “fed” her in this very seat. Then it hit me. The lipstick under my foot… The nausea hit me like a physical blow. My mysophobia—my obsessive need for cleanliness—flared up, violent and overwhelming. I screamed for him to stop, threw the door open, and retched onto the pavement. 3 “Hurry up, Kate!” Jackson shouted, checking his watch. “I’m on a tight schedule!” There was no way in hell I was getting back into that car. Seeing me hesitate, Jackson scoffed and slammed the door. “Get in or don’t. I’m done coddling you!” He drove off. By the time I arrived at the venue, the party was in full swing. Towards the end of the night, Jackson grabbed my arm, wincing. “Kate, go buy me some ibuprofen. My stomach is killing me.” I wanted an excuse to leave anyway, so I turned and walked out. I was halfway to the elevator when I realized I’d left my phone. I doubled back to the private room, only to hear voices leaking through the crack in the door. “Jackson and Lily are getting bolder, aren’t they?” “Can you blame them? There’s a pharmacy downstairs. Kate will be back in ten minutes. They have to make every second count.” I gripped the door handle, my hand trembling uncontrollably. Everyone knew. The entire social circle knew they were sleeping together. I was the only fool playing house. From inside, Jackson’s voice drifted out, breathless and disjointed. “You guys… keep it down. If my wife hears… I’ll kill you.” Laughter erupted. “She’s not even here! She’ll never know.” I couldn’t listen to another second. I turned and fled. When I returned with the medicine, they were all sitting on the sofas, playing a drinking game. One of his friends spoke up. “Kate, you were the last to arrive, and you’re the only one who hasn’t given Lily a gift yet. Let’s guess what she brought!” During my years as the Anderson daughter-in-law, Jackson and his parents controlled every dime. I had no personal wealth. Seeing my hesitation, Jackson whispered, “Just give her a red envelope. Put it on my tab.” I set the medicine box on the table and spoke, my voice eerily calm. “The piano I used for five years. If you don’t mind it being second-hand.” The room went silent. Gasps echoed around the circle. That piano was a handcrafted masterpiece by Maestro Vane. It was the only one of its kind in the world. Jackson had spent six months begging Maestro Vane to sell it to him. It was his second-anniversary gift to me. The guests looked at me with expressions ranging from shock to pity. After arranging for movers to transport the piano, I went home to pack. My bedroom door slammed open. Jackson stood there, his face twisted in anger. “What the hell is wrong with you? You gave away the piano I bought you? To someone else?” 4 I looked up at him, my eyes dry. “Lily is better than me. A better pianist deserves a better instrument.” Jackson’s voice dropped to a whisper. “How did you know I said that?” “It was broadcast on every screen in the city, Jackson. I saw it on the street.” He froze. Those were his words to the reporter. He couldn’t deny them. “Even so! You can’t just give it away! That was a symbol of our anniversary!” I smiled faintly. “So?” Jackson stared at me, sensing a shift. “Kate… what does that mean? Are you trying to leave me?” “If you fall in love with someone else,” I said, “I will leave you. Permanently.” Jackson laughed, a cruel, arrogant sound. “Go ahead and try. Everything you have in this world, I gave you. Without me, where would you go? Don’t forget, Kate, you can’t divorce me unless I agree to it.” But I wasn’t Kate Monroe. I was Vivian Sterling. And that marriage license meant nothing to me. Jackson stepped closer, his voice dropping to a menacing purr. “Don’t even think about leaving. Be a good girl and stay home. I’ll give you whatever you want. Remember your place, wifey.” I smiled. We’ll see about that. For the next four days, I systematically erased my existence from the house. My clothes in good condition went to charity. The old ones went into the fireplace. I deleted every social media account associated with “Kate Monroe.” I went to the government offices and transferred all relevant documents. Jackson noticed none of this. He and Lily had flown to Monaco to celebrate her victory. Monaco was practically their second home. They flew there whenever the mood struck. Three days left. Lily sent me a photo. A little girl eating a candied apple. Baby wanted sweets today, so Daddy made her the biggest one he could find! ~ It wasn’t the first time she’d sent photos, but I had never understood the connection. Why send me a child? This time, the girl’s face was visible. The realization hit me like a physical slap. The girl was a miniature copy of Jackson and Lily. It was their daughter. So this was why he never wanted children with me. Pathetic. Two days left. Jackson organized a private fireworks display for Lily. An eight-million-dollar show. Big brother said it was worth it just to see me smile. Eight million dollars. It was beautiful, I had to admit. He once promised to watch fireworks with me. He never did. And now, he never would. One day left. This time, Lily didn’t send a photo. She sent an audio file. It was a recording of them in bed. His low, guttural groans. Her high-pitched cries of pleasure. I listened to it once. I smiled, a cold, detached thing. I placed the phone on the desk next to a sealed envelope. I shouldered my only backpack and walked out of the “home” I had lived in for eight years. My extraction team was waiting at the airport, standing in perfect formation. As I was about to board the private jet, Jackson called. Wifey, I’m back from my trip. I’m coming to pick you up for dinner. He was back, alright. With Lily and his illegitimate daughter in tow. Dinner is in an hour, I typed back. Can you make it? Through the glass terminal wall, I saw him. He was kneeling, tying the little girl’s shoelaces. He was about to reply when Lily leaned down and kissed him. “Honey, you promised to take us to the amusement park first! If we don’t go now, we won’t have time to fly Bella back to Monaco later.” The little girl tugged his hand. “Daddy, please! I want to go on the rides!” Finally, a message appeared on my screen: Kate, something came up at work. Let’s move dinner to three days from now. I let out a soft laugh and powered off the phone. I put on my oversized sunglasses. Flanked by bodyguards, I walked through the terminal, brushing right past Jackson. He spun around, staring at my back. “That woman… she looked just like Kate.” Lily laughed, linking her arm through his. “Don’t be ridiculous. That woman is surrounded by security. She’s clearly a VIP. Since when is Kate Monroe a VIP?” Jackson chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re right.” “Come on, Bella! To the amusement park!” The intercom crackled overhead, the final announcement of my old life fading away. Flight G1382, you are cleared for takeoff. Have a safe journey.

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1 I was in labor. My husband, Marcus, insisted on being in the delivery room. He wanted to be the one to cut the cord, to witness the miracle. Everyone called Marcus Wright the husband of the decade. Then, halfway through the most excruciating pain of my life, he walked in with his young, pretty assistant. She was curious, he said, and wanted to watch. Through the agony of being nine centimeters dilated, I bit my lip until it bled. “Get her out!” The assistant, Zoe, stared at the most private part of me, her eyes wide with a mixture of horror and morbid fascination. “Wow,” she breathed, loud enough for the whole room to hear. “It can stretch that wide? You could probably fit two fists in there!” She turned to Marcus. “Mr. Wright, should I book Sarah a ‘tightening’ surgery for after?” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Such a shame. It’ll probably never go back to the way it was…” Seven hours of torment later, a baby’s cry filled the room. After congratulating me, the nurse held up our daughter. “Dad can come see his little girl now.” My eyes were webbed with broken blood vessels. I raised a trembling hand. “Don’t show her to him.” “He’s not her father anymore.” … “Sarah!” “Do you have any idea what you’re saying?” The delivery room fell silent. The joy on Marcus’s face evaporated, replaced by a cold hardness. His grip on my hand tightened. “You’ve been through a lot. You’re not thinking clearly right now. Once you’ve rested, we can—” “I am thinking perfectly clearly.” “The ones who need to get the hell out are you and your assistant.” My entire body was shaking, a storm of pain and fury. The tearing sensation between my legs was a physical echo of my heart splitting in two. Marcus’s expression iced over. “Sarah, are you saying these things just to hurt me? Is this because I brought Zoe in?” Zoe flinched, hiding behind him with tears welling in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Sarah! I begged Mr. Wright to let me come. Please don’t blame him!” “I just… I speak my mind. If what I said upset you, you can hit me…” Before she finished, Marcus instinctively stepped forward, shielding her completely. “Sarah, you were her age once. Why make things difficult for a girl in her twenties?” “This is the day our child was born. It’s supposed to be a happy occasion.” He reached out to touch my sweat-soaked face. “Don’t be difficult, okay?” I laughed, the sound brittle and bitter. In my twenties, I was working myself to the bone to help Marcus secure his position at my family’s company, Stea Industries. I had three miscarriages from the stress and exhaustion. Back then, Marcus had knelt by my hospital bed, his eyes red, and sworn to me, “Sarah, I promise, I will become a man worthy of you. I will protect you for the rest of our lives!” Now, our fourth child was finally born, healthy and screaming. And he was shielding another twenty-year-old girl, telling me to behave. I gripped the bedrail, my heart a dead weight in my chest. “Marcus, that vow is broken. Is there any point to this marriage anymore?” “We’re getting a divorce. Don’t make me say it again.” “I don’t agree.” His voice was cold and firm. “Sarah, this is our daughter’s birthday. Why do you have to make such an ugly scene?” With the last of my strength, I ripped the diamond ring from my finger and threw it at his face. “That’s hilarious. You think I, Sarah Stea, need your permission to get a divorce?!” “You are no longer her father.” The nurses began wheeling my bed out. Through the blur of the IV drip, I saw Zoe collapse into Marcus’s arms, sobbing. He wrapped his jacket around her, holding her close. And then, as my world faded, they started kissing. 2. Back in the recovery room, my lawyer was already there. Marcus was refusing the divorce. He would see me in court. “Fine,” I nodded, dialing a number on my phone. “If he wants a war, he’ll get one.” I spoke into the receiver. “Yes. Let’s meet.” “I want Marcus Wright out of Stea Industries. I never want to see his face again.” After hanging up, I picked up my sleeping daughter. Her features were so much like his; it was disorienting. I had been so overjoyed to be pregnant with her, enduring the weight gain and morning sickness without a single complaint… All I had wanted was to keep a shred of dignity. Instead, at my most vulnerable moment, I had been turned into a spectacle. My phone buzzed, shattering the quiet. “Sarah, what the hell did you do?!” It was Marcus, his voice laced with a fury I had never heard before. “What’s wrong?” I bit out. “Finally have time to discuss the divorce?” “Don’t play dumb with me!” he roared. “Why did you have Zoe kidnapped?” “You just became a mother! How can you stand by and watch another woman miscarry? She could die!” A gasp of icy air filled my lungs. So, Zoe was pregnant with his child. All this time, while I was enduring my own difficult pregnancy, dreaming of our future, he was creating another one. “Marcus, I don’t know anything about a kidnapping. And I have no interest in your little girlfriend’s drama.” He was silent for a moment. “You’d better be telling the truth. If anything happens to Zoe, I will make you pay for it tenfold!” He hung up. The threat lingered in the air. A nurse who had overheard the call looked at me with awkward pity. “Mrs. Wright… whatever is going on, please try to rest. Your tearing was severe. You need to focus on healing.” I thanked her and took the care instructions. The next day, our family’s driver came to take us home. I had him put the baby in the car while I gave my lawyer some final instructions. My demand was simple: Marcus gets nothing. Not a single penny. “Understood, Ms. Stea, but…” The lawyer took the file, his eyes darting nervously behind me. Suddenly, a hand clamped over my mouth. A group of men grabbed me, dragging me into a waiting van. “Our boss said if Zoe doesn’t come back, you’re going down with her!” one of them snarled. “I can’t believe the great Sarah Stea would stoop to kidnapping. You’re disgusting!” They were rough, their bodies pressing hard against my abdomen, which was still tender and swollen from childbirth. A wave of agony washed over me, and I blacked out. I don’t know how long I was out. When the blindfold was ripped from my eyes, I was staring at a bright screen. In the video, Zoe was on the floor, the white dress she wore stained with blood. Men were kicking her stomach over and over. She looked like a broken doll. “I’m sorry, Ms. Stea, I was wrong…” she sobbed. “I’ll never say those things again! Please, let me go!” The video cut to black. Marcus stepped out of the shadows, his eyes stripped of their usual warmth. He grabbed my chin. “Sarah, have I been too lenient with you? Is that why you’ve become so cold and cruel you’d harm an unborn child?” “Tell me. Where is Zoe?” I met his gaze, my own as cold as ice. “I don’t know.” He didn’t believe me. He leaned in closer. “Sarah, for the sake of everything we were, I’m giving you one last chance.” “I. Don’t. Know.” Seeing my defiance, a cruel smile touched his lips. “Still as stubborn as ever.” At his command, I was dragged into a sterile, white room. It looked like an operating theater. “Let me go! Marcus, this is illegal imprisonment!” I struggled, but my limbs were strapped to a table. I was completely helpless. “Well then,” his voice echoed from above me, “that ‘repair’ surgery Zoe booked for you? Let’s get it done today.” The doctor hesitated. “Mr. Wright, your wife just gave birth yesterday! This is far too soon…” Marcus was silent for a long moment. He glanced at the video of Zoe, then his voice turned to steel. “Don’t give her any anesthesia. I want her wide awake for the entire procedure.” “She can stay like this until she’s ready to talk.” 3. “I’m sorry, ma’am.” With the doctor’s sigh, a cold, sharp blade touched my skin. The first cut sent a tremor through my very soul. With the second, my body no longer felt like my own. Pain, white-hot and absolute, consumed me. But I clung to one thought: the person I had called for help would find me. I just had to hold on. “Talk, Sarah.” “Or this is going to get much, much worse.” I bit my lip, forcing the agony to keep me conscious. When Marcus leaned close, I spat a mouthful of blood and whispered, “Marcus, if I wanted to destroy Zoe, I’d have her blacklisted from every company in New York. I’d make her crawl out of this city like the pathetic stray she is.” “Kidnapping? That’s your level, not mine.” He froze. For a second, a flicker of hope ignited within me. He gently stroked my thigh. His voice was soft, just like when we first met, but his words were chilling. “It’s been ten years, Sarah. You’re not the untouchable Stea heiress anymore, and I’m not that poor boy you picked up.” “Don’t think I’ll fall for that act.” Then, a sharp prick in my arm. “Adrenaline,” he ordered. “Don’t let her pass out.” The world, which had been blurring at the edges, snapped back into sharp, agonizing focus. The scalpel continued its work, and I was powerless to even faint. “Mr. Wright! Mr. Wright!” Someone was pounding on the door. It burst open, and Zoe stumbled in, her dress soaked in blood. “It’s me! I’m back! Marcus, help me…” “Zoe!” His eyes filled with shock and relief. He rushed to her, scooping her into his arms as she began to scream her accusations. “Those men… they made me apologize for what I said in the delivery room!” “They kicked my stomach! They said if they kicked it enough, the baby would just fall out…” Her gaze locked onto me, her eyes burning with hatred. “You bitch! I said one thing, and you tried to kill me and my baby!” Just then, the main doors to the suite swung open again. Marcus strode toward me. “Sarah, Zoe has a sharp tongue, but that’s all it is. And for that, you had her brutalized?” “You think because you’re a Stea, you can decide who lives and who dies?!” “Apologize to her. Now.” I stared past him at the open door. There was nothing but Zoe’s blood trail. No one else was coming. Had Marcus truly covered his tracks so perfectly? Was no one going to find me? “No.” Blood was pooling beneath me. I forced the word out through gritted teeth. “I will never apologize for something I didn’t do.” Marcus’s fist clenched at his side. I had only ever seen him this angry twice. The first time was after my third miscarriage; he hated himself for being too powerless to protect me. The second time was now. “Fine. Very well.” “This was your last chance, Sarah. You threw it away.” The door opened one last time. A large man walked in, holding a bundle. I heard a baby’s cry. “What… what is that…” My eyes flew open in terror. It was my daughter. She was supposed to be safe at home. 4. “You’re so naive, Sarah.” “In all my years at Stea Industries, I learned to always have a backup plan.” Marcus’s eyes were filled with pure venom. “Marcus, you monster… she’s your daughter!” At the word “daughter,” his face grew even colder. “How do I know that? Zoe told me she’s seen you with another man this past year.” I gasped, a wave of nausea and fury rising in my throat. “You can’t touch her!” He ignored my pleas. “Apologize to Zoe. This is your final chance.” At his signal, the man holding my daughter lifted her into the air. “You don’t want to see our child smashed on the floor, do you?” He smiled, and began a cruel countdown. “Five… four… three…” Time was running out. I was breaking. My daughter—the child I had lost three times, the child I carried for ten months—she was a part of me. How could I watch this happen? My vision went red. A scream was trapped in my throat, silent and suffocating. Just as the man prepared to drop her— BANG! A gunshot cracked through the air. The man collapsed. The baby fell, but was caught securely in a pair of strong arms. “Marcus. Who gave you the nerve?” The man was smiling, but it was a terrifying sight. Marcus was frozen in place. “Caleb Sterling?” He tried to regain his composure. “I’m with my wife for her surgery. What are you doing here?” Caleb walked to my side, gently shifting my daughter to one arm and scooping me up with the other. My blood soaked into his expensive jacket, dripping onto the pristine floor. “I’ve known Sarah Stea for twenty years,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “I have never seen her bleed this much.” His lips were curved, but his eyes held a chilling, manic glint. He was the one man in New York’s high society that no one dared to cross, a “mad dog” in a bespoke suit. But as he heard my pained groan, his expression softened. “Caleb… it hurts…” “I know. Don’t be scared. I’m getting you out of here.” The room was now filled with Caleb’s men. His cold gaze swept over the scene, landing on Zoe. She was immediately seized and thrown back into the operating room. Caleb gestured to the bloody table. “I believe you had an appointment for a ‘repair’ surgery?” “Since you’re so fond of the idea, why not try it yourself?” “Oh, and remember. No anesthesia.” Zoe’s face was chalk-white. She clung to Marcus’s sleeve. “Mr. Wright, save me! It’ll kill me…” But this time, no one could save her. As Caleb carried me out, his eyelashes fluttered. “Sarah, hold on.” “Your daughter is waiting for you at home.” He rushed me to the best hospital in the city. When the doctors lifted the blanket covering me, they audibly gasped. “Severe postpartum tearing, massive hemorrhaging… My God, what happened to her?!” My gurney raced down the emergency corridor, machines beeping frantically. Caleb ran alongside, his hand never leaving the rail, until the very last second. “Sir, we’re going into the trauma unit!” “You have to let go!” In the split second before the doors swung shut, I grabbed his hand. “Don’t worry,” I rasped. “I won’t die until they’ve all paid.” “Please… take care of my daughter…” As my eyes closed, I heard Caleb’s resolute voice. “I’ll be waiting for you, Sarah Stea.” “And I promise you… everyone who hurt you? I won’t let a single one of them go.” “They will beg for a death that will never come. That is their final end.”

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Here is the translation and adaptation of the short story, localized for a Western audience with the requested formatting and stylistic adjustments. My husband is mute. At our wedding, it was his best friend, Kathleen, who spoke his vows for him. After we were married, his mother called me barren, a worthless wife, and he just stood there, face flushed red, unable to say a word in my defense. When Kathleen pushed me down the stairs, I lay on the floor, my head bleeding, and watched myself miscarry our child. My husband could only make strangled, desperate noises, powerless to help. Everyone told me the same thing: “It’s hard for him, too. He’s mute, Lucy. You have to be patient.” I believed them. Until the company gala. I left early and found him in the stairwell, shielding Kathleen from a group of drunk guys. I heard his voice, perfectly clear, for the first time. “Let her go,” he warned them, each word a cold, hard stone. “Or I’ll make sure you disappear from this city.” Kathleen looked up at him with pure adoration. “Liam,” she breathed. “You were so heroic.” Then my husband turned and saw my ashen face. And just like that, he was mute again. It turned out his voice only existed to protect one person. And it wasn’t me. 1. I stood frozen, watching Liam’s mouth move, the articulate threat dissolving back into the meaningless, guttural sounds I knew so well. His eyes were wide with panic, like someone who’d just had their most shameful secret exposed to the world. Kathleen’s expression faltered too, but she recovered instantly, rushing to my side and grabbing my hand. “Lucy, don’t misunderstand. Liam was just… he was so worried about me, he forced the words out.” Her voice was thick with a feigned vulnerability. “You know how he is. He’d do anything for me.” I ripped my hand from her grasp, my eyes pinned on Liam. He couldn’t meet my gaze. He looked down, a frantic sound caught in his throat as his hands flew into a flurry of sign language. [It’s not like that, Lucy. Let me explain.] I stared at his long, elegant fingers. The same hands that had gripped my hospital bed in a display of helpless agony the day I lost our baby. The memory was now a grotesque joke. A laugh escaped my lips, sharp and humorless. I turned and walked away. Liam reached for me, but I flinched away as if his touch would burn. “Don’t touch me.” My voice was so cold, I barely recognized it myself. He froze, the panic in his eyes deepening into despair. Back home, I locked myself in the bedroom. I used to think our quiet house was a peaceful sanctuary. Now, it just felt suffocating. Every corner reeked of lies. A little while later, there was a knock on the door. It was Liam. He didn’t try to enter. He just dragged his fingernails down the wooden door, a high-pitched, grating sound. Once. Twice. It was our private signal. It meant something was urgent. It meant he was begging me. I ignored it. After half an hour, the scratching stopped. I thought he’d given up, and a strange, unwelcome flicker of relief passed through me. Then my phone buzzed. It was a call from Kathleen. I didn’t answer. She followed up with a barrage of texts. “Lucy, Liam’s gone. He was so upset. I’m worried he’s going to do something stupid.” “He loves you so much. Please don’t be mad at him because of me.” “My cat seems sick, and I’m all alone and scared. Do you know where Liam is?” The last message was a tearful voice note. I opened the bedroom door. The living room was empty. Liam’s coat and car keys were gone. On the coffee table was his notepad, left open. Scrawled across the page in a messy, desperate hand were the words: [Lucy, believe me. I only love you.] I stared at the sentence, and a wave of nausea rolled through me. He loved me? Was this his love? Running to another woman the second his lies were exposed? I picked up my phone and dialed a number. “Hello. I need a background check. Liam Vance, and a woman he’s close with named Kathleen Bell.” “I want everything. From the day they met until now.” 2. The next day, I went to work as if nothing had happened. Liam didn’t come home. His mother, however, called right on schedule. “Lucy, what did you do to upset Liam now? Life is hard enough for him as a mute man. Do you have to push him to his breaking point?” “Kathleen called me. She said you were being unreasonable. Liam’s at her place now. You need to go pick him up immediately!” I hung up on her. That evening, Liam finally returned, his face etched with exhaustion. Kathleen was trailing behind him, carrying a container of homemade soup. “Lucy, Liam was worried you hadn’t eaten, so he asked me to bring this over.” She smiled, a picture of innocence, as if the scene in the stairwell had been a figment of my imagination. My mother-in-law followed them in, immediately taking Kathleen’s hand and glaring at me. “Look at how thoughtful Kathleen is. Then look at you. Can’t even take care of your own husband!” “If it weren’t for Kathleen, who knows where Liam would have ended up last night!” Liam just stood there, head bowed, wringing his hands, the very image of guilt and helplessness. I watched them, my heart a block of ice. I walked to the dining table, picked up a document, and held it out to him. “Sign this.” His mother snatched it from my hand. “Sign what? A divorce? I’m telling you, Lucy, the Vance men do not get divorced!” Kathleen leaned in, her face a mask of concern for Liam. “Liam, don’t do anything rash. Lucy’s just upset right now.” She reached for his hand, but he recoiled as if burned, his pleading eyes fixed on me. I ignored him and spoke to his mother. “It’s not a divorce. It’s a company document. Urgent.” She looked skeptical but, seeing my resolve, said nothing more. Liam, seemingly wanting to ease Kathleen’s worry, took the pen and quickly signed his name at the bottom. His signature, like his appearance, was neat and clean. He looked up at me, his eyes wide and innocent as always. [Lucy, please don’t be mad anymore. Okay?] I took the document without giving him a second glance. Just then, Kathleen pointed to an emerald bracelet on my wrist. “Lucy, that bracelet is beautiful. Was it a gift from Liam?” It was. It was the gift he’d given me when he proposed, and I never took it off. I waited for his reaction. As expected, he froze, then began signing rapidly. [It was my engagement gift to Lucy.] Kathleen’s face fell in disappointment, her lip jutting out in a pout. “Oh… I see. It’s just so pretty.” She looked at Liam, her eyes full of longing. “You’ve never given me a gift like that, Liam.” A flicker of conflict crossed his face. He glanced at Kathleen, then back at me. Finally, he picked up the pen and wrote on the notepad. [Lucy, what if… you just let Kathleen borrow it for a few days? She has an important party next week.] In that single moment, my heart didn’t just break. It turned to dust. 3. I stared at the words on the paper for a full ten seconds. Then, I smiled. I unclasped the bracelet. But instead of handing it to Kathleen, I looked directly at Liam. “Are you sure?” He shifted uncomfortably under my gaze, avoiding my eyes as he nodded. [Just for a few days.] “Okay.” I nodded. Then, before any of them could react, I raised my hand. SMASH! The bracelet shattered against the marble floor, emerald fragments scattering like shrapnel. My mother-in-law shrieked. “Are you insane, Lucy?!” Kathleen gasped, hiding behind Liam, her face pale with shock. Liam shot to his feet, staring at me in disbelief. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. I stood amidst the glittering debris, my voice calm. “It’s broken. Now no one can have it.” I turned and went upstairs to pack. Liam followed, signing frantically at the door. [What is wrong with you? I’ll buy you a new one!] I ignored him, stuffing clothes into a suitcase. He grabbed my wrist. [Don’t go!] I threw his hand off. “Liam. We’re done.” He swayed, his face deathly pale. As I dragged my suitcase downstairs, his mother was still screaming insults at me. I walked straight to the door. Liam blocked my path, his eyes red, signing the same thing over and over. [I’m sorry. I was wrong. Please don’t leave.] I looked at him and found it all so pathetic. “Can your apology bring back my child?” He flinched as if I’d slapped him and froze. I pulled open the door and walked out. Behind me, I heard the sound of something else shattering, followed by his mother’s furious shouts. I didn’t look back. A few days later, my investigator handed me a thick file and several audio recorders. I spent the entire night acquainting myself with the “pure friendship” of Liam and Kathleen. It turned out, Liam wasn’t born mute. At age ten, a severe fever damaged his vocal cords, leaving him unable to speak for a year. During that year, he was showered with attention and care from everyone. Especially Kathleen, who became his self-appointed “spokesperson.” When his voice returned, he made a choice. He stayed silent. He discovered that being a mute got him more than speaking ever did. And Kathleen was the sole keeper of his secret. They were bound together by this twisted arrangement for twenty years. I listened to a recording of Kathleen bragging to a friend. “Liam? Of course he’s not really mute. He just can’t be bothered to talk to people who don’t matter.” “Lucy? She’s just a tool. The Vance family business needed her family’s connections. Why else would he marry her?” “It’s better that the baby’s gone. I was getting sick of looking at her.” I squeezed the recorder, my nails digging into my palm. 4. I thought I would be shaking with rage, but I was terrifyingly calm. The next day, I got a call from Kathleen. She was sobbing, claiming she’d accidentally broken my mother-in-law’s favorite antique vase and was about to be thrown out. “Lucy, can you please talk to Liam for me? He listens to you.” I let out a soft laugh. “Isn’t he at your place? Why don’t you talk to him yourself?” There was a pause, then more dramatic crying. “He… he won’t see me. He won’t answer my calls. I don’t know what to do.” I leaned back on my sofa, taking a slow sip of coffee. “Then you should get on your knees and beg him. Just like I was on my knees, begging him to save me the day I lost our baby.” Kathleen was speechless. I hung up, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. A short while later, my doorbell rang. It was Liam. He looked haggard, with dark circles under his eyes. He was holding a small, elegant cake box. When he saw me, he forced a hopeful smile. [Lucy, I bought you your favorite cake.] He signed, watching my expression carefully. I didn’t let him in. I just leaned against the doorframe. “What do you want?” He seemed taken aback by my coldness. He started signing again, more urgently this time. [Kathleen didn’t mean it. She’s young and immature. Don’t hold it against her.] [I’ll talk to my mom. Don’t worry.] I watched him rush to defend her, the irony thick enough to choke on. “Liam, are you here to bring me a cake, or to be Kathleen’s lawyer?” His face drained of color, his hands frozen mid-air. I shut the door, cutting him off completely. That night, I received a picture message from an unknown number. It was a photo of the box from my old storage room—the box that held all of my baby’s things. The tiny clothes, the soft toys, the sweater I’d knitted by hand. Now, they were all piled next to a dumpster, spattered with filth. Beneath the photo was a single line of text. [Eyesores belong in the trash.] Blood roared in my ears. I drove to the old house like a madwoman. The storage room door was open, the inside ransacked. The contents of the box were scattered everywhere, trampled and ruined. The little wooden horse I’d carved for my child was snapped in two. I fell to my knees, gathering the soiled keepsakes one by one, tears streaming down my face. Just then, Liam and Kathleen arrived. Kathleen gasped theatrically. “Oh my god, what happened? Everything was fine when I left!” Liam rushed to my side, trying to help me up. [Lucy, don’t be like this. If they’re broken, we can buy new ones.] Buy new ones? I looked up, my eyes burning with a hatred so intense it felt like it could incinerate him. “Get out!” He recoiled, startled by my ferocity. Kathleen stepped forward, playing the peacemaker. “Lucy, don’t blame Liam. A burglar must have broken in! We should call the police!” I grabbed the broken half of the wooden horse and hurled it at her with all my might. “You did this! Kathleen, I’ll kill you!” The wood grazed her cheek, leaving a thin, red line on her perfect skin. She screamed and dove behind Liam, crying hysterically. “Liam, I’m so scared… she’s lost her mind…” Liam instinctively wrapped his arms around Kathleen, shielding her completely. He turned to me, his eyes cold with disappointment. And then, I heard his voice. He hadn’t used this voice to say his vows. He hadn’t used this voice to defend me from his mother’s insults. He hadn’t used this voice to call for help as I bled out on a hospital bed. But now, for a meaningless scratch on another woman’s face, he spoke. He had honed twenty years of silence into a razor-sharp blade, and he plunged it straight into my heart. “Apologize to Kathleen. Now.”

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1 For ten years, my sister called me a jinx. Because the moment I, the long-lost son, returned home, her perfect life shattered. The company went bankrupt. Our parents jumped from their office window. My sister tried to follow them more times than I can count. But when my own heart failed from exhaustion, it was her on the operating table next to mine, giving me the heart that would save my life. “Live well, Asher,” she whispered as the anesthesia took hold. “But in the next life… please, just stay away from us.” My eyes were wide open as they wheeled her into surgery. During the transplant, my body rejected her heart. I stopped breathing. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day the family’s lawyer first found me. I shook my head and gave him a small, respectful salute. “Thank you for the offer, sir, but the state raised me. It’s time I started paying that debt back.” … The lawyer looked at me like I was an alien. He couldn’t comprehend someone turning down a life of unimaginable wealth for a reason like that. “The Kingstons are one of the wealthiest families in the city,” he said, his voice laced with disbelief. “Do you have any idea what you’re giving up?” I just shook my head. If they were that wealthy, why send a lawyer instead of coming themselves? It was obvious they weren’t exactly thrilled about my existence. It’s pathetic that it took me a whole other lifetime to figure that out. I refused again and again, even signing a document swearing I would never make a claim on the Kingston estate. Finally, he left. I let out a long breath and started the slow walk back to the children’s home. I’d been working delivery jobs since graduation and had saved up a decent amount of money. Enough to buy some dolls for the younger kids and a new hand cream for our house mother. But as I reached the gate, I saw a figure standing there, poised and impatient. It was my sister, Chloe. “Asher Kingston,” she said, her voice sharp. “When you get home, I’m warning you, don’t say the wrong thing. Especially not to Caleb. He’s the most important person in our family.” Her words were a lightning strike that left me stunned and reeling. She remembered, too. She had been reborn. I swallowed the bitter taste in my throat and shook my head. “You have the wrong person. My name is Asher Stone.” “I don’t know you,” I added, my voice flat. “Please leave.” Chloe’s eyes narrowed, disbelief etched on her face. “What kind of game are you playing now? Trying to be clever?” “Don’t bother. Mom and Dad still don’t even know you exist. As far as they’re concerned, Caleb is their real son.” Hearing that, a profound sense of relief washed over me. Good. At least in this life, I wouldn’t be responsible for the Kingston family’s karma. Their bankruptcy, Chloe’s death… none of it would have anything to do with me. The thought was liberating. “Miss… I’m sorry, do you need something else?” I asked, my tone polite but distant. “If not, you’re blocking the driveway. There’s a lot of traffic here; it’s dangerous.” With that, I brushed past her. Inside the yard, a group of kids playing in the mud saw me and ran over, their faces bright with excitement. “Asher! You’re back!” “Did your family come for you? Are you leaving us?” I could feel Chloe’s stare on my back as I shook my head. “They’re all gone. You guys are my family now.” Ignoring the way her body went rigid, I took one of the kid’s muddy hands and led them toward the house. “Guess what I brought you guys? I heard you’ve been craving snacks. Let’s sneak some before Mrs. Gable finds out!” Their happy shouts echoed through the yard. I couldn’t remember the last time I had felt so light. The next morning, I was getting ready to head to my old high school to give a speech at the assembly for the incoming freshmen. Staring out the window, my mind was filled with dreams for the future. In my last life, when I arrived at the Kingston mansion, they were in the middle of celebrating Caleb’s birthday. My sudden appearance was an awkward interruption. They already knew Caleb wasn’t their biological son, but after so many years, he was the only son they had ever wanted. They said it was good that I was back. The company needed an heir. I changed my application from West Point to the finance program at Wharton. I threw myself into Kingston Industries. They gave me all the pressure and gave Caleb all the love. And then… what happened then? Caleb sold the company’s most vital secrets. We went bankrupt overnight. My parents couldn’t handle it; they died by suicide. Even Chloe became a ghost, haunted and resentful, looking at me like I was her enemy. She always said I was a jinx. If it wasn’t for me, she’d still be the beloved heiress of Kingston Industries, the happiest girl in the world. I never argued. I just worked, trying to give her the life she’d always known. I worked until my heart gave out. I closed my eyes, picturing my parents’ faces one last time. Mom, Dad. I can’t be a son to you in this life. I hope that without me, your family of four can finally be happy. When I opened my eyes again, the school gates were right in front of me, and a thrill of excitement ran through me. After the children’s home, this place was my second home. My favorite teacher, Mrs. Davis, met me at the curb. “Asher, are you still set on your plans?” I was about to smile and nod when a voice cut through the air. “Asher Kingston! I knew you hadn’t given up!” Chloe was running toward us, her face flushed. “You want to study finance, right? Well, I’ll have you know Dad already signed his shares over to Caleb. You won’t get a thing!” “The Kingston fortune belongs to Caleb!” Watching her hysterical outburst, I felt a sense of absurdity. Wasn’t I a victim in all this, too? If Caleb’s mother hadn’t switched us at birth and left me for dead, I wouldn’t have been found half-frozen on the steps of the home. If Caleb hadn’t betrayed the company, our parents wouldn’t have died. Was it all my fault? Not wanting to reveal my secret, I just lowered my head and tried to walk past her. But she grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin. “Our family is happy now, Asher. Why did you have to show up?” “Do you want to watch us fall apart all over again? Is that what will make you happy?” “How can you be so cruel?” I tried to pull away without hurting her. After all, she had saved my life once… Mrs. Davis stepped between us. “Excuse me, miss. Asher is my student. If you have a problem, you can speak to me.” “Please don’t harass a child.” She pulled me behind her, her eyes sharp. “Asher, do you know her?” I clung to her sleeve like a lifeline. “No! I don’t! She was at the children’s home yesterday saying all this weird stuff!” That was all Mrs. Davis needed to hear. She immediately called security. “It’s alright, Asher. I’m here.” In the security office, Chloe sat across from me, her gaze fixed on me, a storm brewing in her eyes. On my side, the school security guard, my teacher, the dean, and even the principal were all fussing over me. So this… this is what it felt like to be chosen? To be protected? “Don’t worry, Mr. Stone,” the principal said, shooting a look at Chloe. “We won’t let anyone bother you.” He cleared his throat. “Ms. Kingston, what is your business with our student?” “You know who I am?” Chloe scoffed, slamming her purse on the table. “Then you should know better than to lock me in here like a criminal! Let me out!” The principal wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, his voice firm. “Asher Stone is one of our most distinguished graduates and our city’s sole acceptance to the United States Military Academy at West Point this year. We have a responsibility to ensure his safety.” “I suggest you explain yourself, or I’ll have to report this to the academy’s liaison office.” Chloe’s eyes went wide with shock. She stared at me. “West Point? I thought you were going for finance?” The principal frowned. “Mr. Stone has been working toward this goal for three years. Where did you hear about finance?” Realizing her mistake, Chloe composed herself, smoothing her hair. “A kid from a group home like him? Getting into a top university? Are you sure he didn’t cheat?” “You should probably investigate your own students before you start bragging. You’ll let any stray in these days.” Even though I was prepared for it, her words still felt like a fist clenching around my heart. Before I could speak, Mrs. Davis shot back. “What did you just say? It’s clear you’re just here to cause trouble.” “Everyone at this school knows Asher has been the top student for three years straight. Are you calling all of us liars?” “And what’s wrong with being raised in a children’s home? A grown woman like you should know better than to be so prejudiced.” The dean nodded in agreement. Our school had a partnership with the home. They waived our tuition and provided dedicated counselors. They had watched me grow up. Chloe’s words were an attack on all of them. Even the old security guard was glaring at her. “We don’t welcome people like you here. Please leave.” “And if I see you bothering Asher again, the police will be having a talk with you.” As I watched Chloe’s retreating back, a mix of emotions swirled within me. Someone tapped my shoulder. It was Mrs. Davis. “Whether your name is Stone or Kingston, you are your own person,” she said gently. “If you ever need anything, my phone is on for you 24/7.” The principal and dean nodded, their expressions telling me they understood more than they were letting on. They were giving me space, and their unspoken support was overwhelming. I tried to hold back my tears, but a few escaped and splashed onto the table. They all pretended not to notice, guiding me toward the auditorium. “The students are waiting for your speech. Go on.” I nodded and walked onto the stage. As I spoke, I could see a familiar figure in the distance, watching me intently, as if searching for a crack in my armor. She didn’t find one. Afterward, Mrs. Davis drove me back to the home. Delivery trucks were parked at the gate, unloading boxes. I walked closer and saw Chloe directing the workers, pointing them toward the main yard. She saw me and clicked over in her high heels, her voice an accusation. “You’ve been reborn too, haven’t you, Asher?” “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And my name is Asher Stone,” I replied calmly. “You should try to remember that.” I walked past her, glancing at the piles of neatly stacked supplies. New mattresses, pillows, toys… everything the home needed. “Let’s make a deal,” she said, appearing at my side. She held out a check. “I’ve donated a million dollars. This is another million for you.” “Two million dollars. To buy out our relationship.” So, that was my worth in her eyes. Two million dollars. Less than the sports car she’d bought Caleb, yet it was meant to sever our bond for a lifetime. When I didn’t respond, she sneered. “Not enough for you?” “Do you know how long it takes a normal person to earn that much money?” “You should learn to be content with what you have and not long for things that don’t belong to you.” I knew what she was implying. My parents. Her. Kingston Industries. The family I never had. “Is it really that hard to earn a million dollars?” She threw the check at my chest and turned to leave. That’s when I finally spoke. I bent down, picked up the check, and tucked it into her designer handbag. “It only takes me about ten days to make a million,” I said, my voice quiet but clear. “And it only takes you about ten seconds to spend it.” She spun around, her face a mask of disbelief, her voice trembling. “You do remember!” “So what if I do? You’d be nothing without the Kingston name!” “Admit it! You only succeeded because Mom and Dad propped you up, because Caleb and I gave up the company for you!” A sarcastic smile touched my lips. “Did any of you ever ask me what I wanted?” “You just wanted a human ATM. Don’t make it sound so noble, like you were making some great sacrifice.” “I saw the immigration applications.” If I hadn’t stumbled upon the paperwork for their family of four in the study in my last life, I might have been fooled forever. The “family” I thought I was a part of was just another lie. Chloe clearly remembered, too. Her eyes darted away, and she fumbled for words. Finally, she managed a weak retort. “As long as you stay away from us in this life, none of that will happen!” “Really?” Hearing her still trying to evade the truth, I lost my patience. “Chloe, do you really think that as long as I don’t exist, everything will be fine?” “Do you need me to remind you what really happened?” She froze as if petrified. Shock, pain, regret—a thousand emotions flashed across her face. I knew, in that moment, she was finally ready to face the truth.

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At the peak of my fame, I died alone in a cheap apartment. My body wasn’t found for a week. There were no fans, no memorial service. Just a unanimous chorus of “Good riddance!” My own parents and the man who stole my life practically threw a party, celebrating that the world was finally free of a “bad seed” like me. A plastic sheet was my only shroud. The proof of my existence, turned to ash. It wasn’t until a new tenant moved in that the secret I had buried in a corner was finally unearthed. And the truth, after all these years, was finally dragged into the light. 1 “What’s up, everyone? Ruby’s moving into a new place today!” “I heard a huge star used to live here!” “Come on, let me give you the grand tour.” Ruby held up her phone, panning across the cramped apartment. “Uh… Ruby, you sure a celebrity lived here?” “Yeah, for real. What kind of star lives in a dump like this?” The live chat flooded with doubt. For a moment, confusion flickered across Ruby’s face. But she didn’t say anything, just carried the camera into the bedroom. “First things first, let’s see if the bedroom vibes with my style.” The bedroom was bleak. The window was open, and the sheer white curtains billowed in the breeze, lifting the edge of the heavy, drooping bedsheet. By the window, a pot of withered flowers rustled in the silence. “Hey, I think there’s something under the bed…” Ruby set her phone aside and grunted with effort as she pulled out a dusty old box. With a click of the latch, a yellowed, dog-eared notebook came into view. “Guys, look! It’s an old notebook!” she exclaimed, picking it back up. “Could be someone’s hidden treasure!” Ruby opened it. My bold, confident handwriting filled the first page. Asher. “Whoa! Isn’t that the actor who just died a few days ago?” “I think so! The one with all the scandals? The guy who crippled his own brother, Noah, to get ahead? And stole his girlfriend!” “That’s nothing! Who knows how many producers Asher slept with to climb the ladder.” “I heard he was a total psycho in school. Bullied kids, shook them down for lunch money. People he messed with probably still have nightmares!” “Ruby, sweetie, you should get out of there. You don’t want to be in a place where someone like Asher lived.” The chat was a waterfall of all my supposed sins. Just like that, Ruby’s stream blew up, hitting over 100,000 viewers. Funny. I was more famous in death than I ever was in life. Meanwhile, in a lavish living room, a young man paced nervously. “Stella, Asher’s trending!” the assistant blurted out. “Someone’s live-streaming from his old apartment!” The announcement cut through the cheerful atmosphere like a knife. “That bastard,” someone muttered. “Can’t even stay dead without chasing the spotlight.” “Seriously, what a buzzkill. He just ruined the whole mood.” My own parents, their faces tight with disgust. Noah, seeing his chance, spoke up in a soothing voice. “Dad, Mom, don’t be so angry. I’m sure my brother didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said, comforting them. “Let’s just eat first, okay?” But Stella, understanding the implication, stood up abruptly. “I’ll handle this right now.” “No need,” my father snapped. “Let’s see what kind of trouble he can stir up from the grave. Put the stream on the TV.” In an instant, Ruby’s voice filled the room. 2 “Guys, it looks like… a diary,” Ruby said, a hint of hesitation in her voice. “I feel kinda weird reading this…” She looked genuinely conflicted. It was my private life, after all. “Don’t worry about it, Ruby. He was a scumbag celebrity. What’s there to be afraid of?” “Yeah, who gives a damn about a dead guy’s privacy?” “Besides, all Asher ever wanted was to be famous. Let’s give him one last moment in the spotlight!” Ruby glanced at the chat, then at the soaring viewer count. Her resolve hardened. She decided to take the gamble. “September 2021. I ran into Stella—the girl I’d had a crush on all through high school. She was a beacon in the crowd, and just like that, I fell for her all over again. But this time, by some miracle, our worlds finally collided. The freshman welcome show was running short, so they combined my act with hers. I sang softly in the wings while she danced under the spotlight. It was magic. We were an overnight sensation. I became the campus heartthrob, she was the campus queen. I was finally standing on equal ground with her. And finally… she noticed me.” Hearing Ruby read those words, Stella’s expression softened. Her mind drifted back to college. That was the first time I had ever taken her breath away. On stage, I was luminous, pouring everything I had into my passion. She couldn’t help but feel a flutter in her heart. Beside her, Noah saw the change in her eyes and quickly interjected, his voice soft and frail. “Wow, Stella. So that’s how you and my brother met. It sounds… so romantic.” He sighed. “He was always the lucky one.” “Unlike me,” he added, his voice trailing off. “All alone, not even good at anything…” Noah’s words snapped Stella back to reality. Her face hardened. “Don’t compare yourself to him, Noah. You’re pure-hearted. Asher was a schemer. He could never be like you,” she said firmly. “Besides, if it weren’t for him, you would have been the one on that stage.” Reassured by her words, a smile finally returned to Noah’s face as he leaned into her embrace. “Thank you, Stella.” My parents watched them, beaming with affection. “Thank God that little monster is gone,” my mother whispered. “Otherwise, he’d be throwing another one of his tantrums.” As their perfect family moment unfolded, Ruby turned to the next page. “December 2021. Stella came to see me today! She asked me to be her partner for the New Year’s Eve Gala. A chance to be close to her? Of course I said yes. After the show, she treated me to dinner. We’re getting closer.” “February 2022. New year. Stella asked me out for dinner and a movie. I bought her a bouquet of roses… and she accepted them. Does this mean… she feels the same way about me?” “May 20th, 2022. Today was the best day of my life! Stella and I are together!” The entry was short, but Ruby could feel the raw joy pouring off the page. The confident, soaring script was there for the whole stream to see. “Is this guy for real? Everyone knows the superstar Stella and Noah were childhood sweethearts. What’s he got to do with it?” “Exactly! I remember Asher faked a bunch of videos of them as a couple just to get close to her!” “Seriously, why couldn’t he just be a decent person instead of lusting after his own brother’s girl?” “It’s obvious, isn’t it? Noah is just better in every way, and he was jealous.” The stream was once again a torrent of hate. 3 “Alright, alright! Let’s just keep reading,” Ruby said, trying to steer the conversation. “Wow, there’s a big time jump on this next one.” “December 2022. Dear Diary, sorry I’ve neglected you. Ever since Stella and I got together, all my time has been for her. I remember every little thing she does for me. She cares if I’m tired. She remembers the things I like. We’re so happy. Sometimes, I really feel like I don’t deserve her. But she always tells me to have more confidence, that I’m wonderful too. Damn. How did I get so lucky to find someone like Stella?” As Ruby read, a smile unconsciously spread across her face. The diary couldn’t capture everything, but she could feel my happiness, my sheer delight. “Reading this, Asher doesn’t seem that manipulative… you guys think he and Stella might have actually been a thing?” “It’s possible! But I’m not buying the innocent act.” “Wake up, you idiots. This whole diary could be something Asher planted to clean up his image after he died.” Hearing Ruby’s voice, Stella’s mind conjured an image of me—warm, gentle, the way I used to be. Back then, I was so full of light. And she had genuinely loved me. She was sure of it. So when did it all change? It was the moment she met Noah. “February 2023. Noah graduated and came back from overseas. He kept bugging me about meeting his ‘sister-in-law,’ so I introduced him to Stella. His major in college is actually a huge help for Stella’s singing. She’s been trying to get on this big talent show, but her song was missing something. Maybe Noah can help.” “April 2023. Stella aced her audition! She packed her bags and left for the show’s sequestered training camp. No phones allowed. The only way I can see her is on TV. A few days after she left, Noah showed up. He signed me up for ‘Dance Nation.’ I wanted to say no, but then I thought about Stella’s future, her career… and I accepted.” “June 2023. After rounds of auditions, I made it onto ‘Dance Nation.’ On the first day of filming, I saw Noah. He was effortlessly charming, making friends with all the other dancers and introducing me around. Having him there made things less intimidating. My technique is solid, and my rankings are good. But for some reason, no one wants to partner with me. I don’t get it. Finally, seeing me alone, Noah offered to be my partner. Two brothers, taking the stage together. Our star is rising. Stella, I’m catching up to you!” “June 30th, 2023. We finally got a day off after weeks of filming. I grabbed my phone, excited to share the good news with Stella, but her line was busy all day. Maybe… maybe she’s just busy. But then, I turned a corner and heard her voice. She was talking to Noah, her tone so gentle and caring. When did they get so close? I pushed open the door and startled Noah. But he wasn’t flustered at all. Instead, he made it a point to flirt with her right in front of me. “Don’t worry, Stella. I’ll give it my all!” And Stella, on the other end, was eating it up. “Good boy. Win that trophy, and I’ll give you a big reward.” Hearing her doting voice, I snapped. I lunged forward and snatched the phone from Noah’s hand. But before I could say a word, she hung up. Suddenly, my chest ached. A sharp, unbearable pain. What is happening? I wanted to confront Noah, but he just told me not to drag him down. I know I shouldn’t doubt them so easily, but once that dark thought takes root, it consumes you. It’s been messing with my head, and my dancing has gotten sloppy. For the semi-finals, Noah planned a high-risk move without telling me. I had no idea. I reached for him, trying to catch him… But he crashed hard onto the floor. Blood bloomed from his leg, staining the stage crimson. I don’t know how I got to the hospital. Time stretched into an eternity, the horrific image seared into my brain. Suddenly, I heard an enraged shout—”You bastard!”—and a hand clamped around my throat. The air vanished.” 4 “In that moment, I thought I was going to die. But I haven’t seen Stella yet. I can’t die like this. I clawed at the hands, fighting for air, but it was useless. The grip tightened, the world went dark. Through the haze, I thought I saw Stella’s face. “Asher, how could you be so cruel! How could you do this to Noah!” Her voice reached me, and the pressure on my neck released. I gasped, sucking in air, my vision slowly clearing. And in that moment, I wished I had died. The hands belonged to my father. The accusation came from Stella. The two people I loved most in the world wanted me dead. Dear Diary, even now, whenever I think of that day, I can’t breathe. I didn’t do anything. Why does everyone believe I was the one who hurt Noah? I wasn’t! I didn’t! I just… I wasn’t ready…” The diary entry ended there. Ruby felt the helplessness bleeding through the ink. But she was the only one. The viewers in her chat felt differently. “Asher is full of crap! He obviously pushed Noah! If Noah was injured, the championship was his!” “I remember that! After Asher ‘apologized’ to Noah, he dropped out of the show… The next time we heard about him, he was a homewrecker, right?” “Couldn’t win the trophy, so he decided to seduce a producer. Classy.” The vile comments scrolled endlessly across Ruby’s stream. My parents, listening to the story, looked on with cold indifference. “If it wasn’t for that little monster, Noah would still be dancing on stage today,” my mother spat. “If I’d known he’d turn out like this, I never would have had him.” Every mention of my name was laced with their disgust. Noah, nestled in Stella’s arms, began to tremble. “Dad, Mom, it’s all in the past. Please, don’t blame my brother anymore,” he whimpered. “I have Stella now, and my own dance studio, and I have you. I’m very happy.” What a picture of domestic bliss. A shame I wasn’t there to see it. “July 5th, 2023. Noah finally woke up. I was desperate to prove my innocence. I grabbed his hand, begging him to explain to our parents and Stella. To tell them he was the one who tried the difficult move behind my back. It wasn’t my fault! It wasn’t! But Noah just smirked at me. He told me he did it all on purpose. It was the only way to completely win over our parents and Stella. He was jealous of my talent, my natural ability, how I could get into the best schools without even trying. While he, with no real talent, had to go abroad just to pad his resume. That was the moment I understood. It was all a setup.” Hearing this, Noah’s expression darkened. He never imagined I would write everything down. But he wasn’t worried. For one, I had no proof. And two, my reputation as a toxic, promiscuous villain was already set in stone. No one would ever believe my side of the story. “I couldn’t believe it. The little brother I had protected for so long was capable of such cold-blooded scheming. In that moment, something inside me broke. I forgot he was injured. I grabbed his shoulders and shook him, my voice cracking as I asked him why. Why would he do something so extreme? He wasn’t just destroying me; he was destroying himself. But I never got an answer from Noah. Only a slap across the face from my father. And from Stella, the woman I loved, a look of pure hatred. “Asher, I am so disappointed in you.” Her words were like a thousand knives twisting in my heart. A wave of nausea hit me, and I could taste blood in the back of my throat. But even then, they showed me no mercy. I knew then. Noah’s plan had worked.” The entry stopped. But the tear stains on the paper were starkly visible, even through the camera’s lens. For the first time, the viewers in the chat seemed to feel a sliver of my despair. “Reading this… I can almost feel his despair… You guys think we might have gotten him wrong?”

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