Author: Momo Chan

My labor was a nightmare. The doctors declared me critical six times. My husband, Marcus, rushed back from his military base overnight. He was covered in blood, his eyes blazing with a hatred so deep it scorched me. “To get me here to you, my best friend crashed his car into a rockslide. He’s dead, Morgan. He left behind a wife and a child.” His voice was a razor’s edge. “How am I supposed to repay that blood debt?!” His best friend’s widow, Sarah, lost her husband in a single night. And I lost mine. Marcus never came home again. I was left alone to work dead-end jobs, to raise our son, to endure the vicious whispers of our neighbors. At school, my son was taunted, called a bastard with no father. I couldn’t stand it. I went to the other family’s house to set things right. They beat me until my head was split open, leaving me to lie alone on a cold operating table. With trembling hands, I dialed my husband’s direct line. It was his aide who answered. “The Commander is watching Sarah Evans’s performance.” “He is not to be disturbed.” My heart turned to ash. I asked for a divorce. Marcus promised, he swore, that he would return to us for good in one month. “I’ll take our boy for a ride in the Jeep,” he said. “We’ll drive through town and show everyone what a big-shot father he has.” My son and I counted the days, crossing them off the calendar one by one. The day finally came. We saw the Jeep, surrounded by a throng of people. And in it, Sarah was laughing, a child in her arms. I held my sobbing son tight. “It’s okay, sweetie,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “We don’t need a daddy.” “Your grandpa’s army-green helicopter is way cooler than a Jeep, anyway.” … Oakhaven is a tiny town. A new bicycle is enough to get people talking for a week. A military Jeep was a spectacle. The narrow lane was completely blocked by gawkers. Marcus got out of the vehicle with a sigh. A little boy clung to his leg, whining. “It’s all muddy. It’s gross. I don’t want to get my new shoes dirty. Daddy, carry me.” My son, Leo, stomped his foot in fury. He tore his hand from mine and charged forward, shoving the other boy. “Get away from him! He’s not your dad!” The boy stumbled backward, caught by surprise. Sarah scooped him up, her eyes shooting daggers at Leo. “Where did this feral child come from? No manners at all.” Marcus raised his hand, ready to strike Leo for her son’s sake. Leo froze, his little fists clenched. In the stories I told him, this was the day his father would come home. He’d bring candy and toys and take him for a ride in a big car. He’d show all the bullies. He wasn’t a bastard. He had the best, strongest father in the whole world. But the day he had wished for, prayed for, had arrived. And his father was about to hit him in public, all to protect another child. Leo’s voice was a choked sob. “You lied, Mommy. He’s not my dad.” Marcus’s hand trembled in mid-air. His gaze fell on the small, dark birthmark on Leo’s forehead. Shock, guilt, and a flicker of something almost tender crossed his face. “That birthmark looks like a little star. Let’s call our son Leo, after the constellation.” He hadn’t been home since. Today was the first time in eight years he had seen his son in the flesh. But that flicker of warmth… It was extinguished by Sarah’s plaintive cry. “Marcus, are you just going to stand there and let him bully Cody?” The sound of the slap echoed through the crowd. I was frozen solid for a second before I ran to Leo, shielding him as he bit his lip to keep from crying out. I summoned every ounce of my strength and slapped Marcus back across the face. “You’ve got some nerve! Sarah says one word and you hit my son!” The slap, the shout. The onlookers swarmed closer, their eyes filled with scorn. They had been wondering how to get on the good side of the new Commander. This was their chance. They practically pointed their fingers in my face. “Morgan, are you crazy? Why would you hit the Commander?” “He’s Sarah’s husband! He’s supposed to defend his own kid, not yours!” “Your son started it! You’re just an unreasonable bitch.” “Worse than a bitch. She’s trash.” “Has anyone ever even seen her husband? God knows who she had that little bastard with.” The curses were like needles stabbing into my brain. Marcus looked uneasy but still positioned himself in front of Sarah and her son, protectively. He didn’t say a single word in my defense. I clenched my jaw, wrapping my arms around Leo, who was shaking with sobs. Sarah seemed to realize something, and a smug look spread across her face. She put on a show of magnanimity. “So you’re the one…” she started, then trailed off with a sigh. “Well, it’s not easy for a single mother. I’ll let it go.” But the crowd wouldn’t. “No way! Assaulting a Commander is a serious crime! She should be locked up for a couple of weeks.” “And that little bastard, Leo, yelling at the Commander like that.” “If word gets out, people might think the Commander has loose morals.” I could take their insults. But I would not let them shame my son. Swallowing the bitter acid rising in my throat, I stared straight at Marcus. “You tell them. Whose husband are you?” My defiant, tear-filled gaze seemed to pierce him. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He looked like he was about to speak. But his aide cut in with a sneer. “This is ridiculous.” “Everyone at Fort Sheridan knows Sarah is the woman Commander Thorne cherishes most.” “To make her happy, the Commander—a grown man—learned to dance, just to perform a duet with her on stage.” “In the four years I’ve served under him, I’ve never seen him late for morning drills. But since Sarah came along, he’s been late 28 times in a month. He can’t stand to be away from her.” Every word was a hammer blow to my heart. Over two thousand days and nights. I worked three jobs to raise our child, fending off unwanted advances in the dark. When I couldn’t bear it anymore and cried to him on the phone, his voice was always ice-cold. “Sarah’s husband died in that crash because he was rushing to get me to you.” “Taking care of her is my way of repaying your blood debt. You should be grateful, not an ungrateful wretch.” For all these years, I had clung to those words. Don’t expect, don’t bother, don’t complain. Even today, I had been planning to buy extra groceries to welcome Sarah and her son. To treat her like a sister. I never imagined that while Marcus bound me with chains of guilt, he was indulging in a passionate affair with his dead friend’s wife. Then what was all my suffering for? The crowd erupted. They surged forward. “How dare you tell that bastard Leo to call the Commander ‘daddy’!” “Trying to drag a good man through the mud!” “Plenty of men in this town have tried to help Morgan out over the years, but she always said she was married and chased them off!” “Turns out she just looks down on us country folk. Well, get the hell out then!” Someone yanked my hair back, hard. Leo tried desperately to push them away but was kicked to the ground. A cruel older boy stomped on his face. “Enough!” Marcus roared. Sarah’s face paled, and she clutched his sleeve. Marcus sighed, gently pushed her away, and came to help me and Leo up. “Everyone,” he announced, his voice strained. “Morgan is actually… my sister-in-law.” “After my older brother passed, the elders wanted me to take responsibility for both families. As an educated military man, of course, I couldn’t accept such an arrangement.” “But my sister-in-law… she seems to want me very much… which led to this misunderstanding.” A misunderstanding. A joke. It felt like he’d plunged a knife right back into the raw, gaping wound in my chest. He lowered his voice, trying to placate me. “Morgan, don’t make things difficult for Sarah.” “When you were in labor, if her husband hadn’t been rushing to get me to you, he wouldn’t have been driving so fast.” “You owe her this.” There it was again. That sentence. The one that kept me from blaming him, from blaming her. The one that forced me to swallow years of loneliness and hardship. But we made that child together. Why was the debt all mine to pay? My heart was cold. I didn’t want to fight anymore. If Sarah wanted him that badly, she could have him. We were even. I shook his hand off and spoke, my voice flat. “That’s right. I’m the Commander’s sister-in-law.” “Leo, call him ‘uncle.’” “No.” “Call him.” “Un… cle.” Marcus’s face stiffened. He didn’t answer, his eyes swirling with a complicated emotion. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? So why was he hesitating? He knelt, pulling a bag of milk candies from his pocket to give to Leo. I pushed his hand away and led Leo out of the crowd. I didn’t look back once. I had just started packing our things when the yard gate was pushed open. Marcus walked in, leading Sarah and her son by the hand. My face was a mask of ice. “What are you doing here?” He pushed past me with his luggage. “Alright, stop sulking. You’ve been waiting all these years for me to come back, haven’t you? I could have been transferred to the capital, but I know you don’t like the dry northern air, so I came back to Oakhaven. From now on, our family of five will live a good life.” For a second, I thought I’d misheard him. “A family of five? Marcus, what in God’s name do you think I am?” “My wife, of course,” he said. He paused, then turned back with a smile. “But publicly, you’re still my sister-in-law. Don’t let it slip, alright? It would be awkward for Sarah.” He walked into the master bedroom and started throwing my and Leo’s bedding, clothes, and books out into the hall. He took out a brand-new set of sheets and carefully made the bed. Those strong hands… they had once pulled me from a raging flood. They had tended to me tirelessly in the hospital. I had fallen in love with him at first sight. I had defied my father, cut off all ties, just to marry him. Now, he was using those same hands to make a bed for another woman. It was time for things to go back to the way they were supposed to be. I knelt and whispered to a sobbing Leo. “I called Grandpa. He’s coming to get us soon.” “Grandpa is amazing. He even has a helicopter. You’ve always wanted to fly like the birds, haven’t you?” Leo’s swollen eyes lit up, and he nodded vigorously. “Mommy, I’m hungry.” I nuzzled his cheek and went into the kitchen. Sarah leaned against the doorframe, a smirk on her face. “You’ve got some patience, I’ll give you that,” she said. “I’ve moved into your house, and you still have the heart to cook for Marcus? What, are you planning on taking care of me when I have his second child?” I didn’t even look at her. Frustrated, she glared at me, then seemed to come to a decision. She lowered her voice. “You know, my husband Jake’s death had nothing to do with you. When you were in labor, Marcus insisted Jake take a detour to the bakery on the west side of town before going to the hospital. Everyone thought he was getting something for you. But really, it was because I’d whined about wanting some chestnut cakes. Who knew there’d be an accident on that little road?” She giggled, covering her mouth. “Marcus and I were first loves. We were separated when we were sent to the countryside for re-education. Now, after all this time, we’ve found our way back to each other. It’s destiny.” It felt like my heart had been crushed in a fist. I couldn’t breathe. For eight years, I had believed his lie without a single doubt. I had humbled myself time and time again, all to atone for a sin that wasn’t mine. I thought if I was just small enough, quiet enough, Marcus might think of me and Leo while he was “repaying his debt” to Sarah. I was so wrong. He was just happily, guiltlessly building his life with her on the wreckage of mine. A triumphant smile played on Sarah’s lips. “Today, I’m going to make you give up for good and get out of this family.” She took a knife and sliced a deep gash into her own arm, then let out a piercing scream. “Morgan, if you’re angry that I took Marcus, just say so! I’ll leave!” “You don’t have to do this…” Marcus burst into the kitchen. He fumbled for gauze to wrap her wound and then roared at me. “Wasn’t it enough that you got her husband killed? Now you’re trying to kill her too? You’re nothing but an ungrateful, backstabbing wretch!” The sheer absurdity of it made me want to laugh. “I’m the wretch?” I sneered. “And you, sleeping with your dead best friend’s wife… that makes you a man of honor?” The truth hit its mark. His face went white. “You… you have the nerve to ask me that?” he stammered. “How did a single woman raise a son all these years? I never asked you how many men you slept with.” Ugh. Disgusting. I pressed a hand to my stomach, fighting back a wave of nausea. Marcus grabbed my wrist. “And you have the audacity to play the victim?” he snarled. “It’s the first day and you’re already acting this jealous. How are we supposed to live together for the next few decades?” “Is this how you hurt Sarah?” He picked up the knife and moved to cut my hand. “Don’t you hurt my mommy!” Leo suddenly darted in front of me, his little arm outstretched. Startled, Marcus lost his grip. The knife fell. “Aaargh—!” Leo crumpled to the ground, his arm hanging limply, the bone shattered, held on only by skin and sinew. Blood pooled on the floor. My fingertips went numb. I whirled on Marcus, screaming. “Get the car! Take him to the hospital!” His face tightened, and he grabbed the car keys, ready to run. But Sarah started sobbing, clutching her arm. “My arm hurts so much, Marcus. What if I can never dance again?” He looked into her tear-filled eyes, and the guilt that had just appeared on his face vanished. He clenched his fists and turned on me, his voice cold. “You need to learn your lesson today. Apologize to Sarah right now, or I’m not taking Leo to the hospital.” “Are you insane? Marcus, that’s your son! He could die if you wait!” He blocked the doorway, his dark eyes empty and cold. “He’s your son, too. I want you to remember this. Remember the fear and pain of losing someone you love. Maybe then you’ll understand what Sarah has been through, and you’ll settle down and help me take care of her for the rest of our lives.” Sarah shot me a triumphant, mocking look. She mouthed a single, silent word. Loser. I stood frozen, my heart torn in two. One half seethed with the humiliation of eight years spent atoning for a lie. The other half was consumed with terror for my son. He was covered in blood, his breathing growing faint. I bit down on the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood. My knees buckled. I knelt. I bowed my head to Sarah, who looked down on me from her throne of deceit. I slapped my own face, hard. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed. “It was my fault. I’ll never hurt you again. Please, just let Marcus take Leo to the hospital…”

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At the celebration for his company going public, Julian Conrad drank from the glass his secretary handed him, a smudge of her lipstick still on the rim. When he came home that night, I asked for a divorce. He rubbed his temples, cutting me off with a wave of his hand. “It was just for show, Isabelle. Is this really necessary?” He scoffed. “And where would you go without me?” I hadn’t expected that. I stood there, frozen. In that moment, he seemed to realize his mistake. He fought through his drunken haze, trying to take it back. But before he could, I asked softly, “The woman living in the Harborview apartment—is she just for show, too?” … My voice was quiet, but it hit Julian like a thunderclap. His breathing hitched. He dropped the playful act, his body tensing as he took a step back. “How did you know?” How did I know? Because his little darling couldn’t wait to introduce herself. Before I could answer, Julian’s demeanor shifted. The calm was gone. “Mona is… different from the others,” he admitted. “But Isabelle, you don’t need to go to her.” I knew what he was worried about. He was afraid I’d do what I always did—hear a whisper of a rumor and show up on the woman’s doorstep, ready to ruin her life, just like all the others before her. But not this time. This time, I genuinely wanted out. Seeing how desperate he was to protect her, I realized this Mona must be special. In the past, he’d let me deal with the other women, real or imagined, however I saw fit. And as for her being “well-behaved”? If she were truly so well-behaved, she wouldn’t have shown up in front of me in the first place. But I wouldn’t expose her. Julian would find out the truth on his own soon enough. “If she’s so wonderful,” I said, my voice flat, “wouldn’t it be better for you to divorce me and marry her?” He shook his head, his refusal firm. “You’re different, Isabelle. I’ll never divorce you.” For a fleeting second, his words sparked a familiar anger in me, but it was quickly extinguished by his next, arrogant statement. “So, you don’t need to bother Mona. She will never be a threat to your interests.” His mercenary tone made my stomach turn. I don’t know when it happened, but he had started to measure everything, even love, in terms of profit and loss. He’d forgotten that when we first got married, it was in his grandfather’s old house in the countryside, surrounded by nothing but muddy fields. “Julian,” I said, my voice barely a whisper, “if it was all about your ‘interests,’ if it was all about money… why would I have married you in the first place?” He froze, just for a moment, then looked me up and down and let out a laugh. A cold, mocking laugh. “Isabelle, before you say something like that, you should take a look in the mirror. Look at what you’re wearing, what you own.” “Without me, could you afford clothes that cost thousands of dollars? Jewelry with six-figure price tags?” He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around my waist without waiting for an invitation. He pressed his body against mine, his voice a low, intimate murmur. “Isabelle, my money is yours. My heart is yours.” “So don’t worry about where my body is, okay?” His warm, alcohol-scented breath ghosted across my neck. I tried to pull away, but his grip tightened on my shoulder. He saw my struggle and chuckled, then released me. He leaned in, his dark eyes cold and piercing as they met mine. “Don’t be too greedy,” he warned. “You’ll end up with nothing.” A phone call saved me from the suffocating moment. It was Mona. Julian was right. On my own, I could never afford this life. Without him, I had nowhere to go. After my mother died and my father remarried, I had no family, no home. I twisted the ring on my finger, the diamond catching the light. I remembered its price tag clearly: seventy thousand dollars. The matching necklace was two hundred and twenty thousand. The dress I was wearing was nearly six. It was more money than I could ever earn in a lifetime. But so what? Jewelry wasn’t a necessity. I could wear a fifty-dollar dress and be just fine. His words didn’t sway me. They only strengthened my resolve. The next few days were a blur of law firms. Each one ended in failure. I’d exhausted nearly every option in the city. When I finally dragged myself home, exhausted and defeated, Julian was waiting for me in the living room. He set down his newspaper, a look of calm satisfaction on his face. “Find a lawyer, Isabelle?” I knew then why I had failed. He’d known what I was going to do. He’d gotten to them all first. “I told you,” he said, his voice soft. “We’re not getting a divorce.” He held out a handkerchief. “You’re sweating.” I slapped it away. He just smiled, unfazed by my anger. “Don’t look at me like that, Isabelle.” “You’ve been a housewife for too long. You’ve forgotten that the world isn’t black and white.” I scoffed, turning away. No, I was learning that lesson very quickly. “Mona had a lapse in judgment,” he said, his tone placating. “She bothered you. I promise, she won’t dare come near you again.” “Can you end it with her?” I asked, looking him in the eye. He sighed. “Isabelle, don’t be so idealistic.” “If it’s not Mona, it will be…” I dropped my gaze, tuning out the rest of his words. I stared at the intricate pattern of the carpet, my mind already packing a suitcase for a teaching trip. That morning, I’d seen an ad for a volunteer teaching program. During the thirty-minute cab ride to the first law firm, I’d put together my application and sent it in. On the way home, I saw I’d been accepted. Things with Julian were at a stalemate. Leaving the city seemed like the best option. When the program was over, I’d find a lawyer from out of state. Seeing that I wasn’t arguing, Julian fell silent. After a moment, he spoke again. “I won’t end things with Mona, but I promise, she will never be seen in public with me. She will never threaten your position. And all my money is in your name. Can’t you just stop being so dramatic about love and affection?” He reached for my hand, but I stepped away. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. “What more do you want?” “Look at the men I know. They’re all like this. Most of them are worse.” I knew he was right. His business partner, for example, had a string of mistresses. But just because other people did it, did that make it right for us? Seeing the irritation on his face, I swallowed my words. “I’m tired,” I said. “I’m going to bed.” It wasn’t a lie. Days of rejection and condescension had worn me down. I fell asleep almost instantly. When I woke, the sun was setting. My phone buzzed. It was a message from the volunteer program coordinator. I accepted her friend request, and a message immediately popped up. [Ms. Ross, we’ll be meeting at the city airport in one week to fly out together.] I replied, and she sent over a list of necessary documents and things to keep in mind. It had been so long since I’d dealt with paperwork. I was exhausted, but for the first time in a long time, my heart felt light. I saw Julian at the hospital and finally understood why he’d been gone for the past two days. He was with Mona. They were walking into the obstetrics and gynecology department together. I glanced at the appointment board. It would be a while until my turn. I found a seat not too far from them. After a long wait, Mona came out of the office, a barely concealed joy on her face. A cold premonition washed over me. Mona was pregnant. But Julian… he had a low sperm count. We’d been married for ten years and never had a child. If Mona was really pregnant, would he finally agree to a divorce? I decided to stop hiding. I walked up behind them. A flicker of hope, the thought of freedom, brought a smile to my face. But it died just as quickly. “Get rid of it.” I was standing two steps behind them when I heard Julian’s cold, merciless words. Mona looked stunned. The joy vanished from her face, replaced by a ghastly pallor. She swayed on her feet. She pleaded with him with her eyes, but he was unmoved. In fact, a flicker of annoyance crossed his face at her disobedience. “I won’t acknowledge this child,” he said, his voice hard. “You can’t have it. I won’t have a bastard.” Mona seemed to misunderstand. She saw me, and rushed forward, dropping to her knees at my feet. “Mrs. Conrad,” she sobbed, “I know I’m shameless. I know I’m immoral. But please, I’m begging you, let me have this baby.” She clung to my legs, trapping me. I was afraid of falling, so I stood perfectly still, shooting a look at Julian that said, This is what you call not bothering me? “Please, Mrs. Conrad, it’s a life,” she wailed. “Please, I’m begging you.” A crowd was gathering. People were starting to whisper, piecing together the drama unfolding before them. As the murmurs grew, Julian’s face darkened with anger. But Mona was shamelessly committed to her performance. Out of the three of us, I was the only one who felt the humiliation. “Mona.” Julian’s voice was a low growl from behind me. The woman at my feet flinched. She looked back at him, her eyes brimming with tears, a desperate plea for pity. It wouldn’t work. This was Julian Conrad, a self-made man who had clawed his way to the top of the city’s business world in just eight years. His heart was harder than anyone’s. But I was wrong. He looked at Mona, let out an almost imperceptible sigh, and stepped forward to help her up. “Stop crying,” he said, his voice softening. “We’ll talk about this at home.” He gently wiped away her tears, his arm around her shoulders, supporting her. Was this really Julian? It felt like a dream. By the time I came to my senses, they were gone. Leaving me standing alone in the hospital corridor, a laughingstock for a growing audience of strangers. I tilted my head back, blinking away the tears. What a waste. I’d missed my appointment. I’d have to get back in line. It was almost dark by the time I finished my check-up and got home. I didn’t turn on the lights. I just stood in the entryway, looking at the cold, empty house. Every detail was to my taste, yet it all made me feel sick. Because every corner held a trace of him. “You’re back?” Julian’s voice came from the bedroom. He walked out and handed me a glass of water. It was a familiar gesture, the one he always used when he wanted something from me. “Mona doesn’t want to get rid of the baby,” he said, placing the glass in front of me. He watched me, testing the waters. “I was thinking… maybe we could let her have it, and you could raise it as our own.” I turned to look at him, and he quickly averted his gaze. As if catching himself, he looked back, his voice suddenly full of false confidence. “The Hamiltons from Sterling Group did the same thing, didn’t they? Their current CEO was an illegitimate son they brought home to raise.” His words sent my heart plummeting. The Hamiltons. The laughingstock of our social circle. The man who brought his illegitimate son home, pushed out his own legitimate child, and now lived with both his wife and his mistress under the same roof. I remembered the first time Julian had told me about them, the contempt in his voice. And now, he had become the very person he despised. Perhaps my stare was too intense, because he quickly changed the subject. “Why were you at the hospital today? Are you sick? I thought your last check-up was fine.” …

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The sixteenth time I went to bail Nathan out of jail. This time, I brought the divorce papers with me. Sophia was sobbing, her story tumbling out between breaths. “Clara, please don’t be mad. Some guys were harassing me at the club again, and Nate was just trying to protect me.” Nathan looked at me, his voice a soft, placating murmur. “Clara, can we please just talk about this at home? Don’t make a scene here.” Everyone stared at the bitter smile on the wife’s face. No one expected me to slap my husband across his. “Fine,” I said, my voice clear and cold. “You two can go home and get married.” “Just sign the divorce papers and leave me alone.” 1 A bitter night wind whipped through my hair. I looked down at the evening gown and heels I had so carefully chosen for the occasion, and a wave of self-loathing washed over me. I’d lost count of how many times Nathan and I had fought over Sophia. Ever since his ex-girlfriend had returned to the country, my emotions had been a runaway train. Even today, on my twenty-sixth birthday. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Nathan, telling me not to be angry, that he remembered my birthday and had a gift for me. Once, those words would have filled me with joy. That’s how it always was. He’d offer a gift, a small gesture of affection, and I would forget all my hurt and grievances, my love for him rekindled. But not this time. I scrolled through our chat history and saw the sixteenth apology for something involving Sophia. And in that moment, something inside me settled. The anger was gone. The hurt, the sadness—they had vanished too. All that was left was the tired certainty of knowing the ending before the story even begins. See? I knew what he was going to say. Every apology was because of her. The strange thing was, this time, it didn’t hurt at all. I bought myself a hot chocolate. And I walked home alone. For me, I guess love can die in an instant. 2 It was past five in the morning when Nathan, bailed out by someone else, finally showed up at my door. He hammered on the door, shouting that he wouldn’t divorce me. He broke a window pane to let himself in, bringing with him the cloying scent of Sophia’s gardenia perfume. “Clara, I’m sorry. I was wrong. Please, forgive me.” He reeked of alcohol and tried to touch me, to pull me into an embrace. He had no idea that the thick perfume clinging to him made me want to retch. I grabbed his wandering hands and threatened to call the police. His attitude soured instantly. “What’s the problem? We’ve been married for five years. What’s one more time?” “Clara, don’t forget, you were the one who said you didn’t mind that I had an ex. Now you’re going back on your word. You women are such fickle creatures.” Sensing he’d gone too far, he softened his tone. “I already apologized for what happened at the station. Can we please just stop fighting?” He reached for the sash of my robe. “I said, get out. If you don’t leave now, I’m calling the cops.” This was the small apartment I had bought before we were married. I have no idea how he even found this place. I could feel his anger building behind me, a familiar storm I had weathered too many times. I took him by surprise, grabbing a knife from the kitchen block. When I brandished it with a look of pure disgust and told him to get the hell out, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, and a look of urgency crossed his face. He quickly tried to placate me one last time before stepping out to take the call. I knew who it was. Who else would he be so eager to talk to in the middle of the night? I could hear his voice from the hallway, laced with laughter and the soft, sweet tones he used to use with me, back when we were first in love. Tears streamed down my face as I tried to block it all out. I didn’t stay in the apartment. I checked into a nearby hotel. 3 I called my best friend. I needed a place to stay for a while. She was thrilled to have me. As for Nathan, I knew we were done. Truly done. I planned to have my things moved out of the apartment as soon as possible. My friend, a staunch bachelorette, knew I was heartbroken. She took a week off work and dragged me to amusement parks, determined to cheer me up. She knew me. Five years of love doesn’t just disappear. A part of me, deep down, was still holding on. We did everything I’d never dared to do before: bungee jumping, skiing, skydiving. Exhausted but happy, we finally headed back to her cozy little apartment. But Nathan was there, waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs. He spoke first, his voice strained. “Clara. You seem to be in a good mood, now that I’m gone.” “Yes. You’ve been busy, and so have I.” I had no interest in making small talk. “I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. “For ruining your birthday.” In the past, his jealousy would have been a secret thrill. Now, it was just… pathetic. “You don’t have to apologize. We’re not right for each other. When it’s over, it’s over.” I just wanted the conversation to end. He hesitated, a look of disappointment on his face when I didn’t explode with anger. “Actually, there’s something I need to tell you,” I began. “I think this relationship…” He cut me off, as if he knew what was coming. “Clara, I’ve already compromised.” Seeing the look on my face, he backtracked. “I’m so sorry. It was my fault. Please don’t…” I shattered his illusion. “We are not a good match.” “And I need you to consider my feelings. Your birthday wasn’t the first time, but it will be the last.” “You can look at your chat history. The apologies are endless. So many that… I’m just so, so tired.” Nathan was silent for a long time. He couldn’t meet my eyes. “I’m sorry, Clara,” he whispered. “Please don’t be angry…” I understood. He was still running. He knew there was a problem, but his only solution was to bury me in apologies until I gave up. The slam of the door echoed in the hallway. This time, I was the one who had slammed it. It was a release. An end to the emotional entanglement. A final, honest confession to myself. 4 I had already found a new apartment online. I hailed a cab with my two suitcases. As I settled into the back seat, my phone rang. It was Nathan. “Even if we break up, can’t we at least be friends?” he asked, his voice full of a bitter sadness. “I’m only just realizing what a terrible husband I’ve been.” “For the past two years, I’ve taken you for granted. I haven’t taken care of you.” “No wonder you left me. I was awful.” “Clara, I’ll change. I’ll be the man you fell in love with again. I’ll be even better.” “I won’t let you down again.” I sighed. “There’s no point, Nathan. We’re done. We don’t need to see each other again.” I hung up. I adapted to my new life with surprising ease. I was busy. Organizing my new home, buying furniture, focusing on my job, studying for certification exams in my spare time. My days were full from the moment I woke up until my head hit the pillow. It was a happy kind of busy. I never thought about Nathan. Not once. I didn’t care about his life, his relationships. I thought we would never see each other again. The world is a big place. Our paths had diverged. But one day, I came downstairs and saw him. He had found my new apartment. “What are you doing here?” I blurted out. “Coming home,” he said, pointing to the apartment across the hall. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” “I’m not.” He held up a grocery bag. “I just bought some things for hot pot. Want to join me tonight?” “Nathan, are you insane? Why would you move here?” “I’m not insane. I’m being perfectly rational.” He was actually smiling. “You’re an adult. You have your own home. Why are you wasting money on rent? This place is on the opposite side of the city from your office. You’re almost thirty, why are you acting like a child?” He just smiled. “I’m glad you still care about me, Clara.” I tried to leave, to check into a hotel, but he wouldn’t let me. He grabbed my arm and tried to drag me back to our old home. “That’s not our home anymore.” “Nathan, you can’t un-ring a bell. Let’s get a divorce.” “Why are you so obsessed with getting a divorce?” He just couldn’t wrap his head around it. In his mind, I was the one who was always accommodating, the one who couldn’t live without him. We’d been together since college. He was the student body president, handsome and brilliant, with a legion of admirers. I was the quiet, studious girl. Everyone said I was punching above my weight. To be honest, at first, he thought so too. If Sophia hadn’t gone abroad to study, I never would have had a chance. So he couldn’t understand why I would want to leave him. He thought he was doing me a favor by choosing me. And a charity case has no right to make demands. He was searching for an explanation. He thought I must have found someone else. “Clara, are you just trying to punish me for neglecting you? I swear, I’ll never do it again. I promise!” “Can we just drop the divorce talk for now?” He tried to kiss me, but I pushed him away. The thought of him and Sophia made my stomach turn. I wanted nothing to do with him. That evening, he showed up at my door with several containers of food he had cooked himself. My heart sank when I saw the plate of shrimp. I’m allergic to shrimp. After all these years, he still didn’t know. I never ate seafood. I just ate some plain rice. He thought I had no appetite and tried to put a shrimp on my plate. “I’m allergic to shrimp,” I said flatly. His chopsticks froze mid-air. He retracted his hand awkwardly. “I’m sorry, Clara. I do remember, I just… my head’s been all over the place tonight.” “It must be because you mentioned divorce. You can’t joke like that again.” 5 His words meant nothing to me anymore. A little while later, his phone rang. It was Sophia. He was instantly frantic. “What am I going to do? Sophia is allergic to cats! She can’t be around animals! How could she be so careless?” “I have to go to the hospital!” I watched him pace like a caged animal, my own heart as still as a frozen lake. I kept eating my rice. If I didn’t take care of myself, who would? He rushed out without another word to me, though he did manage to shout another “sorry” over his shoulder. I couldn’t understand his obsession. Not long after he left, my boss, Leo, called. “Clara, are you free for a drink?” I thought for a moment, then agreed. Leo said he was nearby and would pick me up. I was surprised when he pulled up in a sports car. He was dressed as impeccably as always, but his usually cool demeanor was flushed with alcohol. Leo had gone to the same university as me, a year behind me. He was a campus legend—handsome, wealthy, the whole package. I never expected to end up working for his company. We usually communicated through messages; we rarely saw each other in person. Tonight, he’d invited me out, and honestly, I needed a drink. But when we got to the bar, he just started downing glass after glass of whiskey. “You know,” he slurred, “love is a ridiculous thing. Of all the women I’ve met, you’re the most… reli… able.” He passed out. I managed to get him to his car before I realized I didn’t know where he lived. I couldn’t very well take him to my place. So I took him to a hotel. And there, in the hallway, I saw Nathan and Sophia, coming out of the room next to ours. Our eyes met. We were all stunned. “What… what are you doing here?” Nathan demanded, as if I was the one who needed to explain. “What are you doing here?” I shot back. “Shouldn’t you be at a hospital for a cat allergy?” “I… I…” he stammered. Sophia glared at me. “I asked him to come. So what? You can bring a man to a hotel, why can’t he?” I laughed. “He can do whatever he wants. We’re getting a divorce. Your games have nothing to do with me.” A complicated expression crossed Nathan’s face. He grabbed my hand. “Clara, you can’t be so cruel! You promised you’d love me forever!” I yanked my hand away from his. “Nathan, I’ve caught you red-handed. Are you still going to deny it?” “Let me explain! It’s not what you think! Sophia and I are just friends! We were just talking about some things!” I pushed open the door to their room. It was a mess. Used condoms and stockings were strewn across the floor. “This is what you call ‘talking’?” He was speechless.

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The day my baby was due, I was in a horrific car crash on the way to the hospital. I was alone. My husband, an ER doctor, wasn’t there. He was off saving his first love after she’d tried to kill herself by slitting her wrists. I didn’t call him. I just watched as my mangled car exploded, consumed by a sea of fire. In my last life, a single desperate call from me was all it took. He’d abandoned Eliza at her apartment and rushed to my side. Our baby and I were saved, but Eliza bled to death, alone. Alex didn’t find her body for three days. He told me he didn’t blame me, that it was his choice. He even promised to make it up to me, to finally give me the wedding I deserved. But the night before the ceremony, he knocked me unconscious and dragged me to Eliza’s apartment. In the same bathtub where she’d bled out, he took a scalpel to me. He made me feel her pain, slice by agonizing slice. He even ripped our child from my womb while I was still alive. His eyes were bloodshot, a crazed reflection staring back at my mutilated body. “It was just a car crash! You would have survived!” he screamed, his voice cracking. “But Eliza… she died because of your call! Tonight, you’ll know exactly what she went through!” When I opened my eyes again, I was back. The day of the crash. 1 A deafening roar of metal, then the world was a nightmare of tumbling steel and shattering glass. Pregnant and bleeding, I was thrown around the cabin like a rag doll. My electric car, now a crumpled wreck, began to spew acrid white smoke. I couldn’t believe I was back here, at this exact moment. Reality hit me like a second impact. With every ounce of strength I had, I clawed my way out of the driver’s side window, my upper body spilling onto the asphalt. But my legs were pinned, trapped in the twisted metal. Bystanders kept their distance, their faces pale with the fear of an explosion. My cries for help were swallowed by the ringing in my ears. The crowd wasn’t going to help. It was up to me. My hands, slick with blood, trembled as I fumbled for my phone and dialed 911. A searing pain ripped through my abdomen, and a cold sweat drenched my forehead. The voice on the other end was one of Alex’s colleagues. I’d met her a few times. She recognized my voice instantly, and her tone turned to ice. “Clara, Dr. Monroe is tied up today. He told us you might call the main line if you couldn’t reach his cell. Look, I know what you’re going to ask, but I really can’t tell you where he is. This is a priority line, so please don’t waste our resources. I have to go.” “Wait!” I screamed, a new wave of panic washing over me as she started to hang up. Just then, the impact of the crash finally dislodged a pile of junk from the passenger side door panel—a shower of Eliza’s forgotten cosmetics rained down on the seat. I ignored them. “Don’t hang up! You don’t understand, I’m not looking for Alex! I was in a car accident, right at the intersection in front of the hospital! The car could explode any second, you have to send someone—” She cut me off, her voice dripping with annoyance. “Clara, stop the theatrics, will you? Dr. Monroe isn’t here. Even if we sent an ambulance, you wouldn’t see him. Please, just stop. This line is for saving lives. Do you understand? You’re tying up public resources. I’m begging you.” Her voice softened, but only with a patronizing pity. “He didn’t mean to ignore your calls, you know. He’s dealing with a life-or-death situation. You’re pregnant, just focus on that. Go home, rest, and don’t overthink things. He’ll explain everything when he’s done.” Then, the line went dead. A tear of pure despair traced a path through the grime on my cheek and splattered onto the pavement. I never imagined Alex would be so cruel, so thorough. He had cut off my every escape. I’d called his department before when Eliza had summoned him away with some flimsy excuse, but I’d never lied. I’d never faked an emergency. Seven years of marriage, and this is what he thought of me. No wonder he’d been so merciless in my past life, so detached as he carved me up for her. But there was no time for grief. Death was closing in. The heat inside the car was becoming unbearable, a pressure cooker about to blow. I took a ragged breath, my eyes falling to my swollen belly. I have to get out. With a primal scream, I pushed again, trying to drag my lower body through the shattered window. Glass shards sliced into my palms, embedding themselves deep in the flesh. I moved another six inches. My strength was fading. I collapsed onto the pavement, gasping for air. The skin on my back felt like it was roasting, and in just a couple of minutes, the car was completely shrouded in thick, black smoke. More people had gathered now. A few brave souls started shouting for help, asking if there was a doctor in the crowd. Suddenly, I heard the sound of hurried footsteps. It was Dr. Evans, the Head of the ER. Alex’s boss. 2 Dr. Evans took one look at the situation and immediately began organizing. He rallied a few of the braver onlookers, and together, they managed to pull me free of the wreckage. The second I was dragged to safety, the car erupted in a massive fireball, swallowing itself in flames. With practiced hands, Dr. Evans began assessing my injuries. A small crowd of good Samaritans huddled around us, their voices a worried murmur. “Why would anyone let a pregnant woman drive by herself? Her family must be out of their minds!” “Is she okay? I called 911, but the line was busy forever. When I finally got through and gave the location, they told me to stop playing games and hung up before I could even say ‘car crash’! What kind of psychos are they hiring at that hospital?” “Honey, you shouldn’t be out alone when you’re this far along. You look like you could go into labor any second. What’s your husband’s number? I’ll call him for you.” The genuine concern in their voices, from the very people who had been too afraid to approach just moments before, brought a lump to my throat. I shook my head weakly, the tearing pain in my body a dull roar in the background. Even total strangers on the street could show me this much kindness. Yet the man I’d been married to for seven years was ready to sacrifice me and our child for the woman who had once shattered his heart. The seven-year itch… it was more like a fatal poison. It felt like fate was slapping me in the face, showing me just how blind and foolish I had been. No one else seemed to notice, but with every comment from the crowd, Dr. Evans’s expression grew darker and darker. After a quick examination, he pulled out his own phone and dialed the ER. The moment the call connected, his voice boomed with fury. “Get an ambulance to the main intersection, now! Are you all blind? Didn’t you hear about the crash? If I hadn’t been passing by on my way to work, we’d be looking at a body! How many goddamn calls does it take to get you people to do your job? Who the hell do you think you are?” “Do you have any idea how critical the ER is? If you can’t handle the pressure, then pack your bags and get the hell out!” Five minutes later, I was being loaded into an ambulance. Just then, my phone, which someone had recovered, started ringing. Dr. Evans kindly answered it and held it to my ear. The voice on the other end was Alex’s, and it was filled with rage. A shiver of pure dread ran down my spine. “You called the department again? Seriously, Clara? When are you going to stop this? I told you I was busy today! Why do you always have to bother me at the worst possible time? The baby’s almost here, act like a goddamn adult for once!” “My job is stressful enough without you calling over every little thing! Can’t you function without me for five minutes? Every woman on the planet gets pregnant, but you’re the only one who acts like a complete psycho!” “If I hadn’t come over here today, Eliza would have bled out! Do you get that? Can’t you be considerate for once in your life? I’ll come home when I’m done. Stop bothering me!” I could hear Eliza’s faint, pitiful sobs in the background. After his tirade, without asking a single question about why I might be calling, without giving me a chance to speak, he hung up. The image of his cold, merciless face from my past life flooded my mind. Tears streamed from my eyes, soaking the gurney pad. My breathing hitched, ragged and shallow. A violent contraction seized my womb, and I finally felt it. A warm gush of crimson blood mixed with amniotic fluid, spreading beneath me. But even this pain was nothing compared to the agony of a thousand cuts he had inflicted upon me before. As they wheeled me into the ER, the colleague who had taken my call saw my pale, blood-streaked face on the gurney. Her eyes went wide with horror. She rushed over, stammering apologies, claiming she thought the car crash was just another one of my excuses to find Alex, that hanging up on me was all a terrible misunderstanding. Dr. Evans, sensing something was deeply wrong, questioned her. That’s when he learned that I was Alex Monroe’s wife of seven years. His face turned purple with rage. He immediately pulled out his phone and dialed Alex. 3 He put the call on speaker, making sure I could hear every word. “Alex, where are you right now? Your wife’s been in an accident. She’s going into surgery. Get your ass back here, now!” I expected Alex to at least hesitate, hearing his boss’s command. I was wrong. His voice was cold and firm. “Dr. Evans? Did Clara run crying to you? Don’t believe a word she says. She’s completely unhinged. All she does is pick fights with me at home. I’m a doctor, I can’t just refuse to treat someone because my wife gets jealous!” “If I’d been a minute later today, my patient would be dead! She’s still not stable!” “Just get Clara admitted for observation. And maybe you can talk some sense into her for me. If she won’t listen, fine. Let her believe what she wants!” Dr. Evans was so stunned by Alex’s attitude that he could barely speak. He gritted his teeth, a vein throbbing on his forehead. But before he could unleash his fury, a soft, fragile voice drifted through the phone. Eliza’s voice. “Is that Clara? Are… are you leaving? Then I’ll be all alone again, won’t I? I guess it makes sense… with your baby coming so soon. It’s my fault for not being able to let you go…” As if terrified she might say more, Alex abruptly ended the call. Another brutal contraction hit me, and the world went black. As Dr. Evans rushed me into the operating room, my mind drifted back, back to my first life. The last time, I had called Alex the second the crash happened. He had been on his way to Eliza’s. Hearing my panicked voice, he’d turned around instantly. He’d pulled me from the driver’s seat with his bare hands and carried my bloody body into the ER himself. He didn’t rest until he knew I was out of danger. But the trauma had been too much, and the baby didn’t come that day. By the time he got me home and raced to Eliza’s apartment, all he found was a cold corpse in the bathtub. The gash on her wrist was deep enough to see bone. He said nothing. He handled her funeral arrangements alone. When he finally reappeared two days later, he was calm, as if nothing had happened. He told me Eliza was gone. He saw the guilt on my face and just shook his head, his expression blank. He told me he didn’t blame me. He said the incident made him realize how fragile life was. He couldn’t wait any longer; he wanted to give me a real wedding. I looked into his eyes, the same eyes I had loved for years, and I chose to believe him. That was my mistake. The night before our wedding, he knocked me out and dragged me to her home. He tied my hands and feet, curling my body into the same tub where she had died. The love I thought I saw in his eyes was gone, replaced by a chilling, blood-red hatred. He was a madman who had lost his one true love. The scalpel in his hand gleamed under the dim bathroom light. As my world crumbled, he spoke, his voice a low whisper. “It was just a car crash. You wouldn’t have died. But Eliza… without me, she really died…” “Do you know how deep her wound was? Do you know how much blood she lost that day?” “She was lying right where you are, in this exact position. The blood pooled around her ankles. All my years of medical training… I never knew a human body could hold so much blood. It was all I could see…” “But don’t worry,” he hissed, a monstrous smile twisting his lips. “You’ll find out soon enough.” He placed a framed photo of Eliza on the edge of the tub, so she could watch him avenge her. The first cut sent a bolt of agony through me so intense I nearly passed out. But my screams and pleas meant nothing to him. He was deaf to them. He worked with a chilling precision. Our baby, who was so close to being born, took its first and last breath in that cold, sterile air. I thought that was the end of his revenge. It was only the beginning. He raised the scalpel again and again, raining down blows on me and our child. He chanted like a man possessed, a specter in his own private hell. “This deep… right here… this much blood… Eliza must have been in so much pain. She must have needed me so much…” In the last second before I died, I counted. A thousand cuts. He had carved a thousand cuts into my body and the body of our baby. Afterward, he left our corpses in the tub. He held a wedding ceremony with Eliza’s urn. My soul lingered, watching him, seeing the insane obsession in his eyes. Only then did I finally understand my own foolishness. But it was too late. I should have known seven years ago, the day she returned from overseas on our wedding day. The day he got that call and left me standing alone at the altar. It didn’t matter that she was the one who had abandoned him, that he was the one who had come to me for comfort. Next to Eliza, I never stood a chance. A wedding without a groom, a marriage without love. I held it all together by myself for seven years. And now, it had finally ended in a bloodbath. 4 When I opened my eyes again, I was in a hospital room. A nurse was gently explaining that they hadn’t been able to save the baby. My hands drifted to my stomach. Only the loose, empty flesh remained as proof that a life had ever been there. I stared blankly at the ceiling tiles, my hand reaching for my phone on the nightstand. I was about to text Alex two words—I want a divorce—when his call came through first. I answered. Before I could speak, he unleashed a torrent of fury. “What the hell is this crap online? Did you post this? Are you insane? Do you have any idea how much damage this is doing to the hospital? Take it down, now! I can’t take another day of this. Spreading rumors is illegal, you know that? Can’t you just be a normal person for once?” “Take it down, or we’re getting a divorce!” He hung up before I could even process what he was saying. Pure, unadulterated hatred drowned out every other thought. My nails dug into my palms, my knuckles white with strain. This time, Eliza was fine. He hadn’t done anything overtly criminal, so I had no grounds to call the police. Remembering his words, I opened my phone. I saw it immediately. Some bystander had filmed the aftermath of the crash and posted it online. The internet had seized on the key detail: a desperate 911 call that was ignored. The hospital’s ER was being crucified online, trending for all the wrong reasons. If Dr. Evans hadn’t shown up at the end of the video, offering a small glimmer of competence, the entire hospital might have been forced to shut down from the backlash. I searched for the hospital’s official social media page; it had already been deleted under a tidal wave of angry comments. The ER had made a fatal error. I had no reason to defend them or ask for the video to be taken down. In fact, I was enjoying the show. I clicked over to Eliza’s Instagram. In stark contrast to the hospital’s chaotic meltdown, her page was a picture of serene, curated perfection. Not a single hint of a self-destructive tendency. She had even posted an update while I was in surgery. A picture of a sunset, with the caption: The perfect partner is the best medicine for any illness of the mind. I let out a bitter, sarcastic laugh and liked the post. Her acting was truly superb. Enjoy your ‘perfect partner,’ I thought. He’s all yours. A minute later, my phone rang again. Alex. I didn’t answer. I just declined the call and blocked his number. Immediately, a text notification popped up. Why are you harassing Eliza? If you have a problem, take it up with me. Stop acting like a psycho in front of her! I quickly typed back: Let’s get a divorce. Then I blocked him on that platform, too. Just then, a commotion erupted in the hallway outside. A feeding frenzy of reporters had descended on the hospital lobby, demanding to speak with the head of the ER. Nurses and security guards were shouting, “No cameras!” but it was useless. Dr. Evans came out of his office to try and control the chaos, identifying himself as the doctor in the video, but he was drowned out. The hospital director arrived in a panic, but the press wasn’t buying any of his placating statements. Bowing to the immense pressure, the hospital served up the colleague who had taken my 911 call. She stood before the cameras, weeping hysterically, claiming she had been manipulated by Alex and that her professional failure was an honest mistake. Then, the director’s next call was to Alex. He was ordered to be at the hospital within thirty minutes. Worried I’d be swarmed by reporters, Dr. Evans came into my room, advising me to stay put. He promised they would handle it, admitting that the hospital was at fault. I had just nodded when my room door was kicked open. Alex stormed in. He completely ignored Dr. Evans, his face a mask of fury as he bellowed at me. “I told you to explain what happened! Are you deaf? You know damn well what the situation was! If you don’t retract this story, I’ll sue you for slander! You’ve pushed it this far—is this what you wanted? To force me to divorce you?” “Fine,” I said calmly. “Let’s get a divorce.” He didn’t seem to hear me. His gaze dropped to my flat stomach, and his eyes widened in shock. He paused for a second, his angry gaze sweeping over the empty, sterile room. His voice, when it finally came, was hesitant. “The baby?”

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My husband has severe social anxiety and a stutter. When we went to City Hall to get our marriage license, he was so nervous he couldn’t say “I do.” We became a running joke for the clerks. When my father had a sudden heart attack, I cried and begged him to call 911, but his stutter was so bad he couldn’t get the address out clearly. He delayed the paramedics past the golden hour of survival. At my father’s funeral, my relatives all tried to console me. “He didn’t do it on purpose. It’s an illness. Your father wouldn’t blame him. You two need to move forward and live your lives.” I nodded numbly and believed them. Until I was sorting through my father’s belongings and found a security recording. In the video, right after my father collapsed, my husband took out his phone. In a smooth, perfectly articulate voice, he called a woman named “Zoe.” “Babe, don’t be mad anymore. The old man is finally out of the picture. As soon as I handle the funeral, I’ll pick you up from the airport. We’re going to the Maldives.” He hung up, looked down at my father’s dying body, and practiced his stutter three times before finally dialing 911. It turned out his fluency was never meant for me or my family. … The funeral was over. I clutched my father’s black-and-white portrait, my nails digging so deep into my palms that they drew blood. But the sharp sting was nothing, not even a tenth of the pain tearing my heart apart. Leo’s stammering voice came from behind me. “St-Stella… I’m… I’m s-so sorry.” “I’m… I’m u-useless… I… I k-killed Dad…” I didn’t turn around. He spoke again, his voice choked with sobs. “H-hit me… yell at m-me… just… just d-don’t ignore me…” I walked into the bedroom with the portrait and locked the door behind me. Leo pounded on the door, his cries muffled. “Stella… o-open the door… I was wr-wrong…” I leaned against the cool wood, listening to him weep, and a single thought echoed in my mind. The son of a bitch is a damn good actor. I sat down at my computer and plugged in the USB drive from my father’s study. The security footage flickered to life. My father was on the floor, clutching his chest. Leo stood over him, pulled out his phone, and made a call. “Babe, don’t be mad anymore. The old man is finally out of the picture.” His voice was clear, fluid, without a hint of a stutter. “As soon as I handle the funeral, I’ll pick you up from the airport. We’re going to the Maldives. I’ve already booked that hotel you wanted.” He was smiling, his eyes filled with a tenderness I had never seen. After he hung up, he walked over to my father, squatted down, and began to rehearse over his dying body. “I… I… I c-can’t… c-can’t get through… I’m s-so s-sorry…” Once. Twice. Three times. He practiced with the focus of a stage actor perfecting a line. Only then did he dial 911, reporting the address in that pathetic, broken voice. I watched the entire video, my hand shaking so violently I couldn’t control the mouse. I didn’t sleep that night. The next morning, I put on makeup and took out the divorce papers I had already prepared. When Leo saw me emerge from the bedroom, his eyes darted away. “St-Stella… d-did you sleep… at all? I… I m-made you some oatmeal…” I slid the papers across the table to him. “Sign them.” He froze for a second before his eyes focused on the document. The words “Divorce Agreement” were printed in bold at the top. The color drained from his face. He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around my legs. “N-no… d-don’t… Stella…” “If… if you l-leave me… I… I can’t live w-without you…” I looked down at him. He was a mess of tears and snot, his words barely intelligible. “I… I kn-know… I’m useless…” “B-but… I r-really love you… please… d-don’t… don’t leave me…” I had seen this act countless times. Whenever he felt slighted or bullied out in the world, he would come home and cling to me just like this, crying. And I would feel a pang of sympathy, comfort him, and tell him, “It’s okay. I’m here.” Now, it just made my stomach turn. The front door was suddenly thrown open. Leo’s sister, Sarah, stormed in and shoved me hard. “Stella, have you lost your mind?” “Your father was just buried, and you’re forcing Leo to divorce you? Do you have any humanity at all?” I stumbled back a few steps. She wasn’t finished. “He has an illness, you know that! He’s already blaming himself. Are you trying to push him over the edge?” she shrieked. “What happened to your dad was an accident! Leo didn’t want it to happen! After everything he’s done for you all these years, how can you treat him like this?” I laughed. She stopped, stunned. “What are you laughing at?” I didn’t answer. I just bent down and picked up the divorce papers she had kicked aside. Leo was still on the floor, shaking. “S-Sarah… stop… It’s n-not her fault… it’s all m-me…” His sister helped him up, her voice softening with pity. “Don’t be scared, Leo. I won’t let her bully you.” She then shot me a venomous look. “I’m telling you, Stella, you can forget about this divorce! Do you have any idea how many opportunities Leo gave up for you? He could have been at a top firm, but he stayed in this dead-end town to help take care of your father!” I looked from her to Leo. His head was bowed, his shoulders trembling even more violently. I folded the divorce papers and went back to my room. Behind me, I heard Sarah’s triumphant sneer. “Good. You know what’s good for you.” I closed the door and leaned against it. I knew a divorce wasn’t happening today. The next day, the entire family descended. The living room was packed with Leo’s parents, his sister, and the whole clan of aunts and uncles. Leo’s mother started. “Stella, dear, your father just passed away. If you try to divorce Leo now, your father won’t be able to rest in peace.” “Leo has his condition, it’s true, but his love for you is real.” She started to cry, grabbing my hand. “It’s our Leo who has wronged you, but you know about his illness. Please, just be patient with him. Our family will make it up to you, I promise.” Sarah immediately chimed in. “Exactly! Leo has sacrificed so much for you. How can you be so heartless? What happened to your dad was a tragic accident.” I sat on the sofa, watching them perform. Leo knelt before me, his eyes red and swollen. “St-Stella… I… I was wrong… p-please… don’t leave me…” His mother dabbed her eyes. “Look at him. You’re driving him mad.” Just as I was about to speak, the doorbell rang. My father’s lawyer stood on the doorstep, holding a file. “Ms. Davis, according to your father’s will, I am required to read it in the presence of the family.” The living room fell silent. The lawyer cleared his throat. “Mr. Davis leaves all company shares, properties, and savings entirely to his daughter, Stella Davis.” The moment he finished, the expressions on every one of their faces changed. Leo’s mother dropped my hand and plastered on a smile. “Oh, my! My dear father-in-law truly doted on Stella.” Sarah’s tone shifted instantly. “Stella, I was a bit harsh earlier. Don’t take it to heart. Leo is so lucky to have you.” The aunts and uncles all started nodding and agreeing, praising me for being a capable and virtuous wife. Leo was frozen in place, a flicker of panic in his eyes. He clearly hadn’t expected this. I watched him, a cold smile touching my lips. After the lawyer left, the family’s act shifted into high gear. Leo’s mother clutched my arm. “Stella, dear, you’ll be running such a large company now. You must be overwhelmed. Why don’t you let Leo help you? His speech isn’t great, but he’s a very steady worker.” Sarah leaned in. “She’s right. You’re husband and wife. You should share your fortunes and your burdens.” I nodded. “I’ll think about it.” That night, my phone buzzed. It was a picture from Zoe. She and Leo were leaning close, and he was smiling that same tender smile. The caption read: Your dad’s dead and you’re worried about a company? Let my Leo handle it. You should focus on your grief. I stared at the photo for a long moment, then a slow, deliberate smile spread across my face. The next day, I slipped a document into a folder of procurement contracts. On top were several supplier agreements that needed to be signed. At the very bottom, I placed a “Full Power of Attorney for Corporate Affairs,” which included a clause voluntarily relinquishing all personal claims to shareholdings under specific circumstances. I handed the folder to Leo. “There’s some company business. Can you sign these for me? I’m in no mood to look at them.” He took the folder, a flash of triumph in his eyes. He thought I was relying on him, that I couldn’t function without him. He picked up a pen and, in each signature box, he scrawled his name with a confident flourish. His handwriting was fluid, not the cramped script of someone with social anxiety. He signed the last page without even looking at it. I took the folder back and returned to my room. Behind me, I heard his stammering voice. “St-Stella… y-you should… get some r-rest…” I closed the door and opened the folder. On the last page, under “Full Power of Attorney,” Leo’s bold signature was perfectly clear. He thought he now held the real power in the company. He became busy, frequently staying out late, if he came home at all. When I asked, it was always the same excuse. “C-company… b-busy… h-had to… entertain clients…” The ambition and glee were practically spilling out of his eyes. He thought I couldn’t see it. The truth was, I didn’t have time for him. Every day, I went to my father’s favorite tea house and personally sorted through the books and tea sets he had left behind. The fragrant steam calmed me, and for the first time in a long time, my heart felt at peace. One day, I was polishing a clay teapot when the building manager called. “Ms. Davis? Someone is here to move furniture into your apartment. They say they’re family, but we needed to confirm with you.” Family? My father was gone, my mother passed years ago. I had no other family. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I drove home immediately. In the parking lot, movers were unloading brand-new, ornate European furniture from a large truck. And in the hallway outside my apartment, the custom mahogany bedroom set my parents had commissioned for their wedding was piled up haphazardly, covered in dust. A woman in a flashy dress was directing the movers with her hands on her hips. It was Zoe. She saw me and didn’t even flinch. She just crossed her arms, a smug grin on her face. “Stella, you’re back!” she chirped, walking over as if we were old friends. “These old antiques take up so much space, and the style is so dated. I’m helping you upgrade to something modern. You’ll love it.” I looked at the furniture, tossed aside like garbage—the testament to my parents’ love—and my body started to shake with rage. My voice was ice. “Who told you you could touch my things?” “Get out.” Zoe laughed as if I’d told the world’s funniest joke. She pulled a set of keys from her purse and dangled them in my face. “Leo gave them to me. He said this is my home now, too. He was worried you’d be lonely and wanted me to keep you company.” “Oh, and by the way,” she added, pointing to my father’s study. “That room is so depressing. It has that old man smell. I’m going to turn it into a media room, with the best surround sound system and a projector. We can watch movies at home. Won’t that be great?” My father’s study. The room that held his life’s work, his most treasured collections. My reason snapped. I grabbed a porcelain vase from the entryway table—one of my father’s favorites—and without a second thought, I drew my arm back to smash it into her gloating face.

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1 At seventeen, I was tied up in an abandoned warehouse by my nemesis, left to burn alive. To save me, Christian armor took thirteen knife wounds meant for me. One of his legs was permanently damaged. He held me, his blood staining my white dress, but he was smiling. “Don’t be afraid, Elara. I’ll protect you for the rest of my life.” Later, fearing I would be targeted again, he left for the Golden Triangle. For seven years, he fought his way up from nothing, becoming a fearsome warlord whose name alone struck terror into the hearts of men. He returned in a blaze of glory and, to the envy of everyone, made me his wife—the sole mistress of his domain. Until I saw the combat medic he brought back with him. She wore a pristine white coat, one hand resting on her pregnant belly, her smile both gentle and cruel. “Christian said a woman like you, who crawled out of the gutter, isn’t worthy of bearing his child. The day I give birth to his firstborn son will be the day you die.” I laughed. Right in front of her, I began to slowly, methodically clean a Browning pistol. As she screamed in terror, I aimed the barrel at her stomach and spoke to my trusted subordinate beside me. “Record this. Send it to Christian.” “Tell him his offspring and I can’t both live. Tell him to choose.” … When Christian arrived, the muzzle of my gun was pressed firmly against Amelia’s pregnant belly. He was still in his combat fatigues, dusted with the grime of the field, an aura of violence clinging to him that never quite washed away. “Put the gun down.” His voice was unnervingly calm, betraying no emotion. Amelia looked as if she’d seen her savior, tears streaming down her face. “Christian, save me… our baby… She’s insane, she’s going to kill our child…” I smiled, pressing the gun a little harder. “Choose, Christian.” He didn’t even glance at Amelia. His dark, piercing eyes were fixed on me. We were like two cornered animals in a standoff. He seemed to be searching my face for any hint that this was a joke, a bluff. He found none. The killing intent in my eyes was thicker than the scent of blood on his uniform. The air was dead silent. The subordinate next to me had palms slick with cold sweat. Christian’s personal guards had already raised their weapons, a dozen black muzzles all aimed at my head. One word from him, and I’d be turned into a sieve. Finally, he moved. He walked toward me, each step landing like a hammer blow on my heart. My knuckles were white around the grip of the gun. “Elara, stop messing around.” He reached me, his voice now laced with a soft, coaxing tone. The next second, he struck. His hand shot out like a viper, clamping around my wrist. He disarmed me with an effortless twist, so fast I had no time to react. BANG! A gunshot echoed through the space. Warm blood splattered across my face. My pupils contracted in shock. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t Amelia. It was my subordinate, the one who had been recording for me. A neat hole had appeared in the center of his forehead. He crumpled to the ground. Christian holstered his pistol, his expression blank. He didn’t spare Amelia a single glance, just spoke coldly to the medic behind her. “Take Ms. Vance back to her room to rest. She is not to take a single step outside without my permission.” Amelia’s sobs caught in her throat, the triumphant look on her face frozen in place. She didn’t understand. But I was beginning to. Christian turned, his tall frame casting a shadow over me. He raised a hand—the fingertips calloused and smelling of gunpowder—and gently wiped the blood from my cheek. The gesture was as tender as if he were handling a priceless treasure. “Elara, I told you I would protect you for the rest of my life.” “So don’t do dangerous things like this again.” “And don’t force my hand.” His voice was soft, but it carried the unyielding weight of a command. With that, he tossed the gun aside and strode away. He never once asked me why I had done it. It was as if the man who had served me for five years was nothing more than an ant crushed under his boot. I stood frozen, an icy chill spreading through my heart. I raised my own hand and wiped away the last of the drying blood. I looked at my subordinate’s wide, unseeing eyes and gently closed them for him. Christian armor. Seven years to claw his way from a nobody in the Golden Triangle to an absolute monarch. He had taken more lives than I had eaten meals. He was no longer the boy who would foolishly take thirteen knife wounds for me. I had been so naive. I thought he had risked his life to save me, left his home to build an empire for me, married me in splendor… because he loved me. But it was never love. It was possession. I was his prize, the spoils of a war he had almost died to win. He could spoil me, indulge me, put me on a pedestal. But he would never, ever allow me to challenge his authority. The child in Amelia’s womb was his bloodline. His property. And I had tried to destroy his property. So he killed my man as a warning. I went back to our room. Everything was just as I liked it—opulent, decadent. On my vanity sat the pink diamond he had acquired for me at a European auction just last week. Only you deserve the most expensive things in the world, he had said. How ironic it seemed now. I pulled open a drawer. Inside was an array of modified firearms. Christian had never restricted my access to them. My Elara can do whatever she wants, he used to say. I picked up a small, silver pistol and began to polish it. Footsteps approached the door. Christian entered, carrying a bowl of congee. “You haven’t eaten all day. I had the kitchen make this for you.” He set the bowl down and wrapped his arms around me from behind, his chin resting on the crown of my head. His voice was tired. “Elara, the child in Amelia’s womb must be born.” “That’s an order.” I said nothing, just stared at our reflection in the mirror. I once thought this was the happiest image in the world. “She is the only daughter of the Kachin State’s chief,” he explained, as if discussing a routine business matter. “She is a hostage in our peace talks. Her child is the collateral that secures our alliance.” “So, you slept with her for the alliance, too?” I finally asked, my voice as still and dead as a stagnant pond. His arms around me tensed. “Yes.” A single word. No hesitation, no remorse. I laughed. “You’re disgusting, Christian.” His body jolted. He tightened his grip, so hard it felt like he was trying to crush me into his very bones. “Elara, don’t say that.” “Once the situation here is stable, I will get rid of her. Then… we can go back to how things were. All right?” There was a faint, almost imperceptible tremor of panic in his voice. I didn’t answer him. The night passed in silence. The next day, under the pretext of my being “traumatized,” Christian placed me under house arrest. For my own protection, he called it. It wasn’t long before Amelia came calling, oozing triumph. She dismissed the guards and sauntered in, her pregnant belly leading the way. “Elara, you must hate me so much right now.” I leaned back on the sofa, lazily flipping through a magazine, not even bothering to look up. “Do you really think Christian explaining things to you means he still cares? Don’t be a fool. He’s just afraid you’ll screw up his plans. A prostitute who crawled out of the gutter really thinks she’s the lady of the manor?” Her words grew uglier, more venomous. “Did you know, when he holds me, he says he’s been sick of your lifeless body for years? If you weren’t still useful, he wouldn’t even bother to touch you.” The corner of the magazine crumpled in my hand. I finally lifted my eyes to hers, my gaze like ice. “Are you finished?” My stare made her falter, but she quickly straightened up. “What? You want to hit me? Do you dare? Your man’s body isn’t even cold yet. Elara, I suggest you recognize your place. Be a good little ornament. When I give birth to the firstborn son, Christian will make me his official wife. And on that day, I’ll make you kneel and lick my shoes.” I looked at her face, twisted with jealousy, and suddenly found it amusing. “Amelia, do you really think that just because Christian is protecting you, I won’t touch you?” I set the magazine down and rose slowly, deliberately. I walked toward her, step by step. My aura forced her to back away instinctively. “What do you want? I’m telling you, I’m carrying—” SLAP! A sharp, clean crack of my hand across her face cut her off. She clutched her cheek, staring at me in disbelief. “You… you hit me?” “Hit you?” I grabbed her by the hair, forcing her head back. “I’m going to kill you.” I dragged her toward the second-floor terrace, her screams echoing through the villa. “Help! Someone, help me! Elara’s gone mad!” The guards outside rushed in, but froze when they saw the scene, too afraid to intervene. I slammed Amelia against the railing, half her body dangling over the edge. Below was a cliff of jagged rocks, a drop of a hundred feet. A fall would be certain death. “Elara! Let me go! You’re crazy!” Amelia shrieked, her face white with terror. I leaned in close, my lips brushing her ear, and whispered in a voice only we could hear, “You wanted to be the mistress of this land, didn’t you? I’ll grant your wish. Jump from here, and you’ll be the shortest-reigning mistress in history.” I applied a little pressure. Amelia let out a final, deathly scream. Just then, Christian and his men arrived. “Stop!” he roared, his voice thick with an anger he couldn’t contain. I turned and met his furious dark eyes. But a slow smile spread across my face. “Christian, you’re here.” “Look. Your woman is in my hands. Tell me, should I let her live, or should I let her die?” Christian’s face was so dark it looked like it could drip ink. The guards behind him raised their guns in unison once again. Amelia was sobbing. “Christian, save me! She’s going to kill me! She’s going to kill our baby!” He stared at me, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles cracked. “Elara, I’m saying this one last time. Let her go. Otherwise, don’t blame me for forgetting our past.” “Our past?” I laughed as if it were the funniest joke in the world. “Is there anything left between us? Not since you started sleeping with other women for profit. Not since you killed my man for a piece of collateral. Christian, from the moment you brought her here, we were finished.” My words were a knife, twisting in his heart. A flicker of pain crossed his eyes, but it was quickly consumed by rage. “So you’re going to destroy everything I’ve built?” “Yes,” I admitted without hesitation. “I’m going to destroy your child, destroy your alliance, destroy everything you hold dear!” “You’re insane!” he snarled, veins bulging on his forehead. “I’m not insane.” I looked him straight in the eye. “I just don’t love you anymore.” Those words were more lethal than any bullet. Christian’s body visibly swayed. The fire in his eyes went out, replaced by a raw panic I couldn’t decipher. As we stood locked in our standoff, a sudden wave of nausea washed over me, followed by a familiar, sharp pain in my lower abdomen. My face went pale, and my grip on Amelia loosened. She seized the opportunity, scrambling away to hide behind Christian. I clutched my stomach, a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. It’s over. My period was two weeks late. I looked at Christian, my mind a complete blank. He seemed to notice something was wrong, his brow furrowing. “What is it?” Before I could answer, the villa’s doctor rushed in. He saw the color of my face and immediately moved to support me. “Ma’am, you—” “Get away from me!” I shoved him off. I couldn’t let Christian know. I couldn’t. But the strange feeling in my body was intensifying. My vision tunneled to black, and I lost consciousness. I woke up in a hospital room, the sterile scent of antiseptic filling my nose. Christian was sitting by my bed, holding my hand, his expression unreadable. He saw I was awake. “Elara…” he began, his voice hoarse. I ignored him, my hand instinctively going to my stomach. It was still flat, but I knew something had changed. In the doorway, the doctor was speaking in a low voice to Christian’s second-in-command. “…She’s two months along. Her constitution is weak, and this episode has stressed the pregnancy. She needs complete rest. This child is a miracle.” My heart sank like a stone. A child. I was carrying Christian’s child. What was I going to do? Christian overheard the doctor. His body went rigid, and he turned to look at me. Our eyes met. A storm of emotions swirled in their depths: shock, elation, and a flicker of… something I couldn’t name. A struggle. After a long moment, he dismissed everyone. The room was silent, occupied by only the two of us. He walked to my side and bent down, as if to embrace me. I turned my head away. His hands stopped in mid-air. He awkwardly pulled them back. “Elara, we’re having a baby.” His voice trembled with a joy he couldn’t conceal. I looked at him, my expression cold. “Get rid of it.” The smile on his face vanished, frozen in place.

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Mike Betts. The boy whose life I once shattered. He returned the favor, burning my world to the ground. He drove my parents to their graves and left me with nothing, forcing me to claw through garbage and fight dogs for their leftovers. Everyone said he’d finally gotten his revenge. But the night I threw myself into the ocean, Mike—who couldn’t swim a stroke—dove in after me. He lost an arm to a shark just to keep me alive. Then he spent billions on a team of specialists, all to erase my past and make me his wife. And it worked. Loving him became my entire world. But on our tenth anniversary, I saw him slip into the live-in nurse’s room at midnight. I heard her breathless cries, her voice melting into the memory of the woman who had always been his one true love. Through the wall, I heard Mike’s ragged whisper, laced with tenderness. “I’m only doing this to make her pain sharper when she finally remembers. You know you’ve always been the real light in my life, Tessa.” I popped the amnesia pill I’d been hiding in my palm. Mike didn’t know. I’d never forgotten a thing. But from now on, I would forget everything. Including him. 1 I waited for five hours before Mike came back to our room. The damp air clinging to him was thick with the scent of Tessa’s floral body wash, a cloying, humid smell. He practically jumped out of his skin when he saw I was still awake. A coldness seeped into my bones, but I forced a smile. “Why the big reaction? Did you do something you shouldn’t have?” His expression flickered through a series of emotions, his eyes darting away, unable to meet mine. “A client was being difficult. We drank too much. I just took a quick shower in the guest lounge.” The excuse was so clumsy it was almost funny. His reputation as ‘The Reaper’ in the corporate world wasn’t for show. What fool would dare force him into a late-night drinking session? I didn’t bother calling his bluff. Instead, I slowly pushed up the silk sleeve of my robe. A hideous, angry burn covered a large patch of my forearm. “Tessa did this,” I said, my voice flat. “I want her gone.” Mike’s gaze fell on the wound. His brow furrowed for a second, then smoothed out. “It’s just a small burn. I’ll have the doctor look at it tomorrow.” “She’s just a kid, fresh out of school, a bit clumsy,” he said, unbuttoning his shirt. “You need to be more understanding. I’ll have her apologize, and I’ll make sure she covers the medical bills.” I almost laughed. Years ago, his own mother had called me a vixen, and he’d banished her back to their provincial hometown on the spot, not even letting her pack a suitcase. For all the years of our marriage, he’d replaced the entire household staff if I so much as shed a few more hairs than usual. He’d once told me, his voice raw with emotion, “Evelyn, you have no one but me now. I won’t let anyone, or anything, hurt you.” But now, this piece of ravaged flesh on my wrist was, in his words, “just a small burn.” Playing the part of the dutiful wife, I pulled my sleeve back down, hiding the ugly mark. “I know. I won’t hold it against a kid.” A kid who was the same age as me. I pressed my fingers to my temples and drew in a sharp breath. “My head hurts.” A side effect of the memory-wiping drugs. This time, though, the pain was real. “Hurting again?” His voice was heavy with fatigue. “It’s been years, you should be over this by now. Evelyn, stop using your old ailments as an excuse. You’re running the staff ragged.” He paused, his tone growing colder. “And don’t wear me out, either. I have an international conference call early tomorrow. I’m exhausted.” A dead silence fell over the room. The stabbing pain migrated from my head to my heart. “Okay,” I whispered. My fingers brushed against the cool metal on my left hand. Without any pressure, the wedding band I’d worn for years simply slid off. It felt like a thousand needles were piercing my brain all at once, the pain so intense that my vision swam with black spots. I bit my lip until I tasted blood, willing the tears not to fall. The memory of Mike, his eyes red-rimmed as he placed this ring on my finger, shattered frame by frame, flaking away until it was nothing but a blur. The next morning at breakfast, Mike couldn’t find me. He tore through the mansion in a panic, even calling in a private security team to search the grounds. They finally found me in the wine cellar. Coiled beside me was a highly venomous viper. The snake’s head lunged forward. “Don’t move!” Without a second thought, Mike threw himself over me, shielding me with his body. The fangs sank into his neck. His face turned a ghastly shade of blue-black almost instantly. He was rushed into the ER. For twenty-four hours, they pumped him full of new blood, barely pulling him back from the brink. The doctor, his face grim, tore into Mike’s assistant. “Why were you ten minutes late? He was this close to dying!” Every pair of eyes in the room turned on me like daggers. It was my fault. On the way to the hospital, I’d insisted we go back for my teddy bear, wasting precious time. Mike’s assistant of ten years finally snapped, his voice shaking with rage. “A stupid bear is more important than Mr. Betts’s life? After everything he’s done for you, you don’t even care if he lives or dies!” Mike’s expression hardened instantly. “You’re fired. See HR on your way out.” Silence returned to the room. Only then did he turn to me, forcing a reassuring smile onto his pale face. “Don’t listen to him. If it makes you happy, I’d give you my life, not just some teddy bear. I wouldn’t even blink.” I hugged the faded, well-worn bear and gave him a goofy smile. It was strange. Mike wasn’t on any medication, so why was his memory so bad? This wasn’t just some teddy bear. It was the one he’d given me back in high school. It had cost five hundred dollars. A sum that had taken him five months of scrubbing toilets to save up. For me, back then, that wasn’t even enough to cover the cost of the gift wrap. So, in front of the entire class, I’d thrown the bear in the trash. Then I’d pulled out ten thousand dollars in cash and thrown it in his face. “Here. Go get a taste of the real world, and stop trying to disgust me with your trash.” My gaze drifted to his remaining hand. Years of a pampered life had made it smooth and soft. A far cry from the hands of that boy, raw and peeling from corrosive cleaning agents, swollen with chilblains. Mike’s hands were never meant to look like that. Even the woman I was now could see that. The door to the hospital room banged open. Tessa burst in, throwing herself at Mike’s bedside, wailing. The force of her entry sent me stumbling to the floor. The burn on my arm, which she’d inflicted days earlier, split open. Blood soaked through my sleeve. Mike’s eyes, filled with concern, were only for Tessa. It wasn’t until a nurse came in for rounds that he seemed to remember I was even in the room. He looked at me, a flicker of awkwardness in his eyes. “Tessa’s just… overly empathetic. Don’t read too much into it.” Then, as if suddenly remembering my headache, he told the doctor to take me for a scan. But through it all, he never once looked directly at me. He never saw the crimson stain spreading across my sleeve. The doctor stepped away to grab something, leaving me alone in the hallway. Suddenly, a violent force yanked me backward. Tessa had me on the ground, snatching the teddy bear from my arms and shoving it hard against my face. Her voice was a venomous hiss. “You bitch! Now you’ll know what it feels like to suffocate!” Panic seized me. Cotton filled my nose and mouth, and the world dissolved into a frantic, suffocating blackness. I struggled, my subconscious screaming Mike’s name. My nails scraped bloody trails on the linoleum floor. The hospital room was just a few feet away, but no one came. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, I heard Mike’s voice, calm and distant. I thought I was saved. But he just watched, his expression unreadable. Then he turned to the doctor who had followed him out. “Dr. Lee, if you would. Process this memory for Evelyn. Just like all the other times.” Tessa’s shrill voice exploded in my head. “You would’ve learned your lesson by now if Mike didn’t wipe your memory every single time!” So this wasn’t the first time. It wasn’t the first time Mike had let Tessa hurt me. A torrent of shattered memories crashed into me, each one a shard of glass in my mind. On our wedding day, Tessa moved into our marital home. Time and again, under the guise of getting revenge for Mike, she’d thrown scalding coffee on me, pushed me down the stairs. She’d even pinned him to the sofa right in front of me. He’d struggled, pushed her away. Until that one night, when he finally gave in. He’d stood there, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes bloodshot as they met mine. His voice was a raw rasp. “Evelyn, there’s too much baggage between us.” He was right. The humiliation of our youth, the ruin of my family, the arm he’d lost for me. It was a sea of blood and vengeance that we could never cross. I was dragged onto the treatment chair, electrodes clinging to my scalp. Mike walked over, his face a mask of complicated emotions. Seeing the tear tracks on my cheeks, he leaned down and kissed me. “Sleep now, Evelyn. When you wake up, everything will be new again.” As he reached for the switch, the doctor’s hesitant voice cut through the air. “Mr. Betts, the memory wipes have become too frequent. It could cause permanent damage to Mrs. Betts’s brain.” Mike paused, his voice laced with a strange helplessness. “But I can’t let her hate me.” Zzzt. A raw jolt of electricity tore through my brain, scrambling the ugly, painful past into meaningless static. My fingers went limp. The teddy bear I’d been clutching so tightly rolled off the bed and into the trash can beside it. Just like that day in high school. Only this time, no one was coming to fish it out. I slept for a long, long time. When I opened my eyes, I saw a handsome, vaguely familiar face looking down at me. I frowned, yanking my hand from his tight grip. “Who are you?” The man’s body went rigid, and a wave of pure panic flooded his eyes. “Evelyn, it’s me, Mike. Your husband.” He grabbed my hand again, his grip so tight it felt like he might shatter the bones. “We’ve been married for three years. You love me, remember? You told me I was your entire life.” When I didn’t respond, he started rambling, repeating how much I loved him over and over. I rubbed my throbbing temples. I seemed to remember the facts he was stating, but the feeling—the love—was gone, as if it had been surgically carved out of me. I found myself soothing him out of habit. “I’m sorry, my head is killing me.” Mike’s expression froze, looking deeply unnatural. He glanced away, his eyes landing on the teddy bear in the trash can. A deep frown creased his forehead, and he immediately called for a nurse. “What is this piece of junk? Get it out of here, now!” I watched the bear, its fur stained with dried, dark red blood, and subconsciously touched a small cut on my own lip. Mike’s body tensed. “Did you have a nightmare?” he blurted out, then quickly added, “Dreams aren’t real, Evelyn. Don’t believe any of it.” His attempt to cover his tracks was clumsy and laughable, but I couldn’t even summon the energy to question it. I just watched them take the bear away. “A ruined old bear,” I said calmly. “It was time to throw it out.” Just like our love. Mike must have sensed something was wrong. Though doctors had ordered him on strict bed rest, he started clinging to me, staying by my side nearly twenty-four hours a day. Except, of course, at night. I always woke up when he slipped out of bed to go to Tessa. Sometimes, they would even come back to our bedroom, making love by the side of the bed where I lay. “Mike, when are you going to let Evelyn get her memories back?” Tessa’s voice, choked with tears, was startlingly clear in the spaces between their passion. “You’ve sacrificed ten years of marriage for your revenge, and I’ve waited ten years for you. It’s enough. It’s really enough.” “Soon,” Mike would always say. Lost in his own world, he never saw the venomous hatred in Tessa’s eyes when she looked at me. She started secretly taking my medication. She didn’t know that Mike, terrified I might discover their affair, was already adding even more drugs to my meals every day. My memory began to fray, huge blank patches appearing in my days. I’d often sit by the window for hours, staring at nothing. Mike seemed pleased with this. He saw it as me being less clingy and seemed relieved. How ironic. After all the effort he’d put into turning me into a broken woman whose world revolved only around him, he was now tired of the burden. I said nothing. I just went on with the slow, quiet process of unloving him. Until the night it all exploded. During dinner, the front doors of the mansion were thrown open. Tessa, her hair a mess, burst in and dropped to her knees in front of me. “My mother has a heart condition! Come after me if you want, but leave my family out of this!” she shrieked, her voice thick with sobs, as if I’d committed some unforgivable crime. Outside, a sea of flashing lights pulsed against the windows. Reporters had surrounded the house. “Mr. Betts, do you have any comment on your wife’s online post, in which she accuses you and Ms. Vance of having an affair?” “Mr. Betts, was your decade-long devotion all a lie?” For ten years, the story of Mike Betts’s undying love for me was the fairy tale of our social circle. Now, the fairy tale was shattered, and with a third party involved, all the blame was aimed squarely at Tessa. The reporters’ microphones were practically in her face, their questions sharp and cruel. Mike’s face darkened, his eyes a brewing storm as he looked at me. But in the end, he didn’t touch me. He just pulled Tessa to her feet and told her he would handle it. He turned away, calling his assistant, telling them to arrange for Tessa and her entire family to be sent abroad. Tessa’s eyes went cold. She furiously tapped on her phone. Less than a minute later, Mike’s phone rang. Tessa’s parents, distraught from the news, had been in a fatal car accident. Tessa crawled toward me, her hands clawing at the leg of my pants. “I was wrong, I was so wrong…” she howled, her words a jumbled mess, yet she skillfully directed all the blame onto me. “You warned me in high school… not to take what was yours… I should have learned my lesson when I got expelled… Now my parents are dead… I’ve ruined my family…” Mike’s eyes turned blood-red. He grabbed my wrist, his grip so fierce I thought the bones would snap. “How could you be so vicious?!” Tessa wailed, banging her head on the floor before me. “I’m begging you, leave my family alone! I don’t want anything anymore…”

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I was scrolling through social media when a video titled “The Cutest Couple at Comic-Con” popped up. The comments explained that the girl cosplaying the female lead was a recent graduate, an intern. The man with her was her boss, whom she’d dragged along to fill in. “How come other people’s bosses are so handsome and doting? I’m so jealous!” “Right? My boss is a bald, penny-pinching fossil who only knows how to exploit us!” I shook my head and chuckled, my thoughts drifting to my own husband. Arthur, a software engineer with a STEM background, was the very definition of a strict, demanding boss. His shirts were always meticulously buttoned to the top, and he showed no mercy to anyone. Even during the two years I worked as his assistant, the smallest mistake would earn me a public berating until I cried. His employees secretly called him “The Ice King.” Curiosity piqued, I zoomed in on the video. It felt like a lightning strike. The man in full cosplay makeup, his costume open to reveal a set of defined abs… The man spinning the young intern under a shower of confetti petals… It was my husband, Arthur. 1 I stared at the screen, my fingers digging into the back of my phone until they ached. I couldn’t believe the man on the screen, so transformed and carefree, was the same husband who approached every aspect of his life with rigid precision. My hand trembled as I looked up the date of the convention. Last Saturday. My birthday. The same day Arthur told me he had a work dinner and wouldn’t be home. I had never once doubted his word. In my mind, Arthur was more earnest and serious than anyone I knew; he didn’t have the capacity to lie. But this video was a vicious slap in the face. The front door clicked open. Arthur was home. My neck was stiff as I remained on the sofa, not getting up to greet him as I usually did. He walked a few steps into the living room, his brow slowly furrowing. “Is dinner not ready yet?” I blinked. The dry, perfunctory question, so typical of our married life, sounded especially jarring after watching the video. Forcing a smile, I stood and took the jacket he handed me. “I’ll… go get the food.” As he moved his arm, a pink crystal bracelet slipped out from under his cuff. My breath hitched. I instinctively grabbed his hand. “Where did this come from?” Arthur’s expression flickered with something unnatural when he saw my shocked gaze. But just as quickly, his face settled back into its usual cool indifference. “It’s a gift from an employee. She said it’s good for the company’s finances. What’s wrong?” Arthur, the man who only ever wore a single watch and sometimes found even his wedding ring too much of a hassle, suddenly believed in good luck charms? I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice from shaking. “It doesn’t suit you. Take it off.” “If you want financial luck, I got that charm from the temple, remember? I’ll go get it for you.” His brow tightened, and he shut me down with an impatient tone. “No need. I think the pink crystal is fine.” “I’m hungry. Can you serve dinner?” With that, he turned and walked to the dining table. I went into the kitchen, borrowed a friend’s account, and sent a friend request to the intern whose name I’d just looked up. Her most recent post was a picture of two wrists, one wearing the pink bracelet, intertwined. The caption read: “Hehe, bought matching bracelets with my first intern paycheck. My grumpy boss loves it! ;)” The phone slipped from my grasp, clattering onto the counter. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. I scrolled through the intern’s profile—Chloe’s profile—like a form of self-torture. Traces of Arthur were everywhere in the vibrant life she documented. “Oopsie, spilled coffee on my grumpy boss’s files today! Luckily, a few pastries made everything better. He wasn’t even mad! Hehe!” “Told my grumpy boss if he didn’t go to Comic-Con with me as my cosplay partner, I was gonna quit. Hmph.” 2 Looking at my bloodshot eyes in the mirror, I made a decision. The next day at noon, I took the soup I’d prepared and went to Arthur’s office. As luck would have it, he was in a meeting. I waited in his office, my eyes idly scanning the stack of documents on his desk. A frown immediately creased my brow. The formatting was a mess, riddled with typos, and, to my astonishment, sprinkled with cutesy emoticons. Stunned, I immediately called for his assistant, Sean. “Who did this? How did this sloppy mess end up on Mr. Hayes’ desk?” “Get it out of here and have them redo it. Now.” I knew Arthur’s standards. If he saw this, he would explode and verbally tear the person responsible to shreds. But Sean looked incredibly uncomfortable. He stammered that it was fine, that Mr. Hayes wouldn’t mind. Frustrated, I grabbed the document and walked out of the office, demanding to know who had prepared it. Better for me to point out the mistake now so it could be fixed, rather than wait for Arthur’s inevitable wrath. Everyone exchanged strange, awkward glances. Then, a sweet, chirpy voice came from behind me. “I did it. What’s wrong with it? Why does it need to be changed?” I turned around to see a group of people emerging from the main conference room. Arthur was at the front. And pressed close to his side was Chloe. Arthur’s gaze fell on the document in my hand, and his brow furrowed slightly. My heart skipped a beat. So it was her. Well, she’d walked right into the line of fire. Arthur might be lenient about trivial matters, but when it came to his work, he was an absolute perfectionist. But his next words sent a chill through my veins. “Sean, didn’t I have you go over this with her three times? How is it still wrong?” Chloe, completely unafraid, stuck her tongue out playfully. “Oh, come on, Sean explains things so fast! I couldn’t keep up.” Arthur rubbed his temples. His expression was one of weary resignation, but there wasn’t a hint of anger. “Fine. Come to my office after work. I’ll teach you how to do it myself.” I looked up, my eyes wide with disbelief. In that moment, the man in front of me felt like a complete stranger. Not the Arthur I had loved for ten years and been married to for six. The stares from the surrounding employees felt like invisible slaps across my face. Some were amused, some were scornful, and some were tinged with pity. “Who is that woman? Acting so high and mighty. Doesn’t she know Chloe is special to the boss?” “Yeah, the Ice King only ever yells at us. Chloe could probably burn the building down and get away with it.” “Shh, keep it down. That’s his wife!” Just moments ago, I was the one laying down the law. Now, my face was burning with humiliation. Arthur, however, seemed completely oblivious to my discomfort. His tone was cool and detached. “What are you doing here?” My arm fell to my side, all my strength gone. “I made your favorite soup and brought it for you…” Before I could finish, Chloe let out another theatrical gasp. “Oh, Mr. Hayes, I ordered you fried chicken and coke for lunch! I even used two of my coupons for it.” A small smile touched Arthur’s lips, as if he found her antics charming. “Alright. We can’t let those coupons go to waste.” To me, he offered only a single, dismissive sentence. “Take the soup home. Stop acting like a damn housekeeper.” 3 By the time I got home, the soup was cold. So was my heart. Arthur had never been good at taking care of himself. He’d worked himself to the bone during the start-up phase of his company and developed serious stomach problems. I was the one who had quit my job to meticulously research healthy recipes and medicinal broths, nursing him back to health. All those small, detailed acts of love, in his eyes, were no different from what a housekeeper did. A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped me. In the ten years I’d been with Arthur, I never knew he was capable of such blatant favoritism. That evening, Arthur came home. As he walked in, he instinctively pressed a hand to his stomach. I knew the fried chicken and coke would have upset it. A bowl of warm, stomach-soothing soup was already on the table. When he saw it, his expression softened slightly. As he began to eat, his movements familiar and routine, I suddenly spoke. “Arthur, if you’ve had a change of heart, if you’re cheating on me, you can just tell me.” Arthur nearly choked. He wiped his mouth, his face flushing with irritation. “Chloe is just an intern. She’s young and a bit playful. Why are you making a big deal out of it?” “Besides,” he added, “she went to our university. She’s an underclassman. It’s only natural I’d look out for her a bit more.” Tears suddenly streamed down my face, a profound sadness washing over me. “I didn’t even say her name, and you’re already jumping to her defense.” And he had the audacity to claim there was nothing between them? Arthur was speechless. I pulled up the Comic-Con video, still trending, and showed it to him. Then I showed him Chloe’s social media posts. As he looked at the evidence, his expression slowly hardened, a cool disappointment filling his eyes. “Sarah, when did you become so… common?” “Snooping on people’s social media, showing up at my office to check on me… You had a comfortable life as Mrs. Hayes. Was that not enough? Did you have to stir up all this drama?” He slammed his bowl down on the table with a loud crack. A chip flew off the rim. I was so stunned I forgot to cry. “It’s just a young girl’s fantasies posted online. Am I supposed to police what my employees post on their personal accounts?” He insisted that nothing had crossed the line between him and Chloe. The only reason he was looking out for her, he claimed, was to maintain a good boss-employee relationship and retain a promising new hire. “If you don’t believe me, there’s nothing more I can say.” “Sarah, I expected you to mature with me, to grow. Not to regress into this foolish, paranoid woman. You’re disappointing me.” After that night, Arthur started staying at the office, using the excuse of being busy. Until our sixth wedding anniversary arrived. The doorbell rang. It was a delivery guy. “Mrs. Hayes, a cake from your husband.” A flicker of hope ignited within me. This was the first time Arthur had ever proactively arranged for an anniversary cake. Had he really matured? Had he learned how to show affection? I opened the box and froze. A large, mocking number “4” was formed by the candles. It pierced my heart. Arthur, the man who’d aced his college entrance exams, who could recall hundreds of data sets with perfect accuracy, couldn’t even remember how many years we’d been married. A strangled laugh escaped me, tears rolling down my cheeks as I did. My phone rang. It was Arthur, his voice as flat and robotic as ever. “Did you get the cake? Are you still upset?” I quietly wiped my tears away. “Will you see a movie with me tonight?” Animal Romance 2 was out. The first one had been released right after we got married. I had begged and pleaded for him to go with me. He had paused his typing, tapping his watch. “Do you have any idea how many lines of code I could write in the 120 minutes we’d waste at a movie theater?” “Sarah, time is valuable. I need your support.” I took a deep breath, pushing away the unpleasant memory. “Arthur, please. It’s my only request for our anniversary.” 4 His tone hardened with impatience. “How old are you? You still want me to watch that childish nonsense?” “I have a work dinner tonight. I won’t be home. Just eat the cake and go to bed early.” He hung up before I could say another word. I threw the cake in the trash and bought a single movie ticket. But at the theater, I saw two familiar figures. Chloe was clinging to Arthur’s arm, happily bouncing in line to collect the movie’s limited-edition couple’s merchandise. She playfully snapped a fox-ear headband onto Arthur’s head and put on a pair of bunny ears herself. They pressed their cheeks together for a selfie. I opened my phone. A new post had just appeared on my feed. “Yay! At Animal Romance with my grumpy boss! This is my reward for being such a hardworking little intern and helping him with his overtime! ;)” In that moment, all the patience and restraint I had mustered shattered. I stormed over and slammed the bucket of popcorn and the large soda down on both of their heads. Chloe let out a piercing scream. Arthur instinctively pulled her into his arms, shielding her. When he saw my face, his eyes blazed with anger. “Sarah, are you following me? When is this going to end?!” I slapped him hard across the face, my voice breaking as I screamed, “Being with me was a waste of your precious time, wasn’t it? You were never willing to compromise or change for me! But you can waste day after day with Chloe, going to conventions, wearing cheap matching bracelets?” “Arthur, do you even have a heart? Why are you being so cruel to me?!” A crowd gathered around us, phones out, recording everything. Chloe buried her face in her hands, sobbing. Realizing the situation was escalating, Arthur shoved me aside, threw his coat over Chloe, and rushed her out of the theater. But it was too late. The video went viral. “Isn’t that the ‘cutest couple’ from Comic-Con? Turns out the guy is married! Gross.” “An intern seducing her boss and then flaunting it online? The nerve of these young homewreckers.” “And he did it on his SIXTH wedding anniversary with his wife. I’m disgusted. I hope the cheater and the mistress both get what they deserve.” A few days later, Arthur, who hadn’t been home, video-called me, his face a mask of fury. “Chloe is being destroyed online. She’s too scared to even leave her apartment. The cyberbullying got so bad she tried to kill herself with sleeping pills!” “Are you happy now? You got what you wanted with your cheap, underhanded tricks, didn’t you?” Through the screen, the man I had loved for a decade looked terrifyingly alien. “I’m warning you, Sarah. You will record a video apologizing to Chloe. You will admit you were wrong and clarify that she is innocent in all of this!” I bit my lip, refusing. Arthur’s expression turned to ice. “Either you apologize, or we get a divorce. You have two choices.” There was a knock on the door. Just as he’d planned, a lawyer was there with divorce papers, already signed by Arthur. “I’m not forcing you, Sarah. You brought this on yourself. You dug your own grave.” His tone was calm, confident. He was handling this like a business negotiation, certain I would choose the first option. He gave me an ultimatum. A video of my apology had to be online before Chloe woke up. “Otherwise, wife or not, I will handle this professionally.” “You can expect a lawsuit from the company’s legal department.” With that final threat, he ended the call. The screen went dark, reflecting my determined face. An hour later, the lawyer’s phone rang right on schedule. “Well? Has she recorded the apology video?” “Mr. Hayes… Mrs. Hayes has signed the divorce papers.”

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An urgent page from the ER ripped through my evening. When I arrived at the hospital, I found my wife, Serena, who’d been away on a business trip for days, clinging to her ex-boyfriend, whispering to him. They were both covered in blood. Next to them was a mangled baby stroller. The moment she saw me, Serena rushed over. “Miles, you have to save the boy. He’s all Leo has left. If anything happens to him, I don’t think Leo will survive.” Her words caught in her throat, her eyes red-rimmed. The raw pain in her gaze was a knife in my gut. Leo dropped to his knees in front of me. “Please, I’m begging you. I know you’re the top pediatric surgeon here. You’re the only one who can save him.” I changed into my scrubs and walked into the operating room without a word. The child was critical, a victim of a severe car crash, and needed an immediate transfusion. “Get Type A from the blood bank, now!” the head nurse yelled. Serena shot up. “I’m Type A. I can donate.” But Leo cut her off instantly. “No, you can’t. You… have you forgotten? You’re his mother. Direct relatives can’t donate blood to each other!” … The air in the room turned to ice. Head Nurse Debbie, a long-time friend, shot me a worried glance. The entire hospital knew how hard Serena and I had fought to have a child. After terminating three pregnancies early in our marriage due to work pressure, she’d been unable to conceive. We’d tried everything—from Eastern medicine to Western specialists, even folk remedies. Just last week, we’d had a successful embryo transfer via IVF. I’d poured every ounce of my time and energy into caring for her, for our future child. And now… Leo, Serena’s ex, had a child that was hers. My breath caught in my mask. Through the glass, I saw Serena’s look of stunned surprise, followed by a flicker of guilt as she glanced at me. But that guilt was quickly replaced by a thrill of maternal joy. Her eyes were shining now, completely forgetting her role as my wife, forgetting everything Leo had ever put her through. All she could see was her child. I watched as my wife embraced another man, her head buried in the crook of his neck, murmuring words I couldn’t hear. “Dr. Carter? We’re running low on plasma. The boy’s vitals are dropping, his O2 sats are tanking…” “Dr. Carter?” My assistant’s voice snapped me back to reality. A junior nurse approached me, her eyes wide. “Doctor, your nose… it’s bleeding.” I looked down. The trickle had become a torrent, far worse than before. It was soaking the front of my scrubs, pooling in the clogs on my feet. I immediately requested my deputy chief to take over the surgery while I got myself checked out. As I was leaving the OR, Serena and Leo confronted me. “What the hell is this?” Leo snarled. “You’re just walking out in the middle of surgery?” “He was in a major accident! Who else in this hospital can handle this besides you? Are you doing this on purpose?” Serena’s voice was sharp, all trace of concern for me gone, replaced by pure, unadulterated fury. “Is it because he’s my child with Leo? Is that it? Are you trying to kill him out of spite?” I wanted to explain that the deputy chief was brilliant with trauma cases, that he had more than enough experience. That the boy was in good hands. But before I could speak, Leo’s hand cracked across my face. He’d swung with all his might. The impact sent me stumbling back, my hand slapping against the wall to keep my balance. “I didn’t…” Before I could finish, the OR doors swung open. “Family of the patient?” a nurse asked. “I am!” Serena and Leo yelled in unison. The nurse gave me an awkward glance before handing them a clipboard. “His condition is critical. This is a critical condition notice. We need you to sign.” “Critical? He was talking when we brought him in! He called me Dad! How can he be critical?” Leo demanded, his voice cracking. Serena, however, whipped her head around to face me. “You!” she shrieked. “This is your fault, isn’t it? You didn’t treat him properly on purpose!” Her fingers dug into my wrist like claws, ignoring the stares of everyone around us. All she cared about was her interrogation. I shook my head, trying to pull free. “Serena, my nose is bleeding heavily. I need to get to the ER. Let me go.” “Let me go!” At that, she seemed to snap. Like a woman possessed, her fist connected squarely with my nose. “Stop faking it! It’s just a nosebleed! Wipe it off! You just don’t want to save him! I know you’re doing this deliberately! I’ll file a formal complaint against you, I swear it!” Just then, Leo, who had been signing the forms, saw the grim prognosis and collapsed. Serena finally let go of me and rushed to his side, cradling his head, even performing mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. A searing pain shot through my abdomen. I looked down. My fresh clothes were already soaked with blood. The last thing I saw before I blacked out was a nurse rushing toward me, my name a frantic cry on her lips. I managed to mumble a few words about my condition before the world went dark. In the ER, the diagnosis was swift and terrifying. “Blunt force trauma to the head causing a cerebral hemorrhage, and a ruptured artery in the abdominal wall. This is critical. We need an emergency consult and to get him into surgery, now.” “Where’s his wife?” the ER doc barked. “I need to inform her. With these symptoms, we have to suspect a critical issue with his clotting system.” “His wife…” The nurse trailed off, then went to find Serena. But Serena was entirely focused on Leo—buying him milkshakes and cake, holding him, cooing at him. When told of my life-threatening condition, she had only one response. “Same old tricks he pulled as a kid. You’d think he’d grow out of it.” Her words stunned the staff into silence. A junior nurse tried to explain the severity of the situation, but Serena waved her away. “I’m a little busy right now. My son is in surgery, fighting for his life. I don’t have time for his drama. Besides, he’s in a hospital, isn’t he? It’s not like you’re going to let him die.” She said it with such chilling self-assurance. “But we need a family member present!” Serena actually laughed. “I know how hospitals work. If it were truly life-or-death, you’d operate without consent. The fact that you need me here means it’s not that serious.” No matter what anyone said, she refused to leave Leo’s side. Meanwhile, my condition was so critical that specialists were being called in from across the city. Several of my old mentors from my residency program, men Serena knew well, were rushed in by ambulance to perform a joint surgery. When she saw them arrive, she flew into a rage. She grabbed one of them by the arm. “Why does he get a team of specialists for a damn nosebleed, while my son is dying in the OR with a critical notice? Tell me! You’re not going in there! You’re staying here to consult on my son!” Leo, now conscious, joined her, physically blocking my mentors, scratching their arms as they tried to get past. Serena pulled out her phone. “Leo, let them go. I’ll call the board and report this hospital for malpractice. Miles Carter has no right to be a doctor. After this call, let’s see how many of them still have a job.” One of my mentors was aghast. “Isn’t that his wife? Why is she with another man? Miles is in critical condition, and she doesn’t seem to care at all.” “Tell me about it,” another replied. “We were all in the same program. We wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t life-or-death. And now she’s threatening to report us.” As they spoke, waves of pain wracked my body. Cold sweat poured down my face. The anesthesiologist looked at me. “Dr. Carter, trust us.” “Okay,” I nodded. Just as the anesthesia began to take hold, I saw something I’d never seen before: the doors to the operating room were being forced open. Serena had somehow incited a mob of other patients’ families. “We’re reporting this hospital for abuse of power!” one of them shouted. “You give your own doctors preferential treatment while our loved ones suffer!” “That man’s son is still in surgery, and this doctor just walks out because of a nosebleed!” It took several nurses, orderlies, and security guards to drag them away. Serena’s voice was the last thing I heard before I went under. “Miles, look me in the eye and tell me you didn’t do this on purpose! We’re husband and wife! That boy is my son, which makes him yours, too! How could you do this? If he dies, I will never forgive you!” As her voice faded, a different kind of pain washed over me. All those years together, from when she was a nobody to the head of her new media department. All those years I’d worked to become a respected surgeon. Every anniversary, she would gaze at me with such apparent devotion, making a wish over a candle and promising to be with me forever. And I believed her. Every time. She played the part of a loving wife so perfectly—earnest, devoted, with a clumsy sincerity that seemed so genuine. But the moment I saw her looking at Leo, I understood. Some love isn’t in the actions; it’s in the uncontrollable beat of your heart when you see that one person. She had never, not once, looked at me that way. Her love for me was a performance, a grand, elaborate show. And when it came down to a choice between me and Leo, she would always choose him. The pain receded, replaced by the gentle voices of my mentors as I drifted back to consciousness. “You’re one lucky man, Miles. If we all hadn’t been here, I don’t know.” “Take it easy. Don’t even think about coming back to work for a long time.” I tried to nod, but they just waved and left. As they walked out, I saw them being escorted away by hospital administrators and… the police. Serena had made good on her threat. Using her network of news blogs, she launched a vicious smear campaign against me and my mentors. The main story focused on the image of my mentors being taken in for questioning right after saving my life. The internet exploded.

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On the eve of our wedding, my fiancé, Julian, told me his mother was sick and that we needed to go take care of her. I didn’t hesitate to get in his car. But on the highway, he took a call from his ex-girlfriend. His face was a mask of pain. “Claire’s not in a good place mentally. I have to go comfort her. You’ll have to get out here and go to my mom’s alone. It’ll be good practice for you to get used to the role.” Just like that, he dumped me on the side of the road. But I wasn’t angry. Not one bit. After all, if he was willing to abandon his own sick mother to console his ex-ex-girlfriend, what could I, his brand new ex-girlfriend, possibly have to say? 01. Julian was on the phone with Claire Ashton while driving me to see his mother. He was on his headset, so I couldn’t hear what she was saying, but I could see the conflict on his face as he soothed her, occasionally glancing my way with a pained expression. Finally, he took a deep breath, his mind made up. “Don’t cry,” he said, his voice firm. “I’m on my way.” “It’s fine. She’ll understand.” He hung up and pulled over to the shoulder of the highway, turning to me with a soft voice. “Claire’s having a really hard time. I need to go be with her.” “Are you sure about this?” I asked, my voice flat. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. “Claire just lost her mother and grandmother. Have some compassion.” “Are you absolutely certain you want to leave me here, right now?” I pressed. His impatience was now palpable. “Mina, be reasonable. Get out of the car.” I smiled. “Alright.” His brow relaxed. He shifted in his seat, as if about to offer some hollow comfort, but I was already out of the car. His hand, halfway extended, dropped back to his side. He sighed. “Look, just go on to Mom’s, will you? Try to make a good impression. It’s a good chance to finally get her to approve of you.” Then, he drove off. I called a rideshare and went straight back to Julian’s apartment to pack my things. I have my own small place and only stayed with him occasionally, so it didn’t take long. In the middle of moving, I got a call from the hospital. A nurse informed me that the prepaid funds on Mrs. Vance’s account had run out and that another payment was due. Martha Vance, Julian’s mother, was a frequent guest at the hospital. I’d covered a bill for her once as a favor, and somehow, it had become my responsibility ever since. Julian, obsessed with his image, would always pay me back, but not before rounding down the total and dragging his feet for weeks. I gave the nurse Julian’s number and made it clear that I was no longer affiliated with their family. They could chase him for the money. On second thought, I decided to do the responsible thing and call Julian to let him know. He didn’t pick up. After a few more tries, he blocked my number. Still determined to be responsible, I used a different number to text him about the hospital bill and to officially tell him we were done. Whatever happened after that was none of my business. 02. The next morning, I went to the office early to hand in my resignation to Julian. Years ago, he’d asked me to help him build his dream from the ground up. What he’d really wanted was an assistant with no official title or recognition, working for peanuts. “Everything I have is yours,” he’d said. “I’ll give you a generous allowance every month, so we don’t need to worry about things like shares or a fancy title. A smaller salary is better for you anyway, for tax purposes.” I was in love with him then, and I was willing to give up a promising career to join his startup, but his proposal set off alarm bells. “My salary is what I earn for my labor,” I had told him firmly. “Paying taxes is a civic duty. But I’m young and capable. What would I look like taking an ‘allowance’ from you?” “Besides,” I’d added, “without a proper title, I’ll have no authority. What kind of company has the boss’s personal assistant running around negotiating deals? How am I supposed to manage a team? You’re building a legitimate business, not some fly-by-night operation.” Julian had looked furious, but in the end, he’d given me a proper title and a fair salary. To his credit, he was talented. In a few years, the company had grown from a single office to occupying three floors of a skyscraper in the heart of the financial district. But none of that mattered to me anymore. After a breakup like this, staying at his company was out of the question. What I didn’t expect was to find Claire Ashton sitting in Julian’s office when I walked in. Before I could even register my surprise, he launched his attack. “What was wrong with you yesterday? Didn’t I tell you to go see my mother? Do you have any idea… Thank God I sent Sarah to check on her.” The office door was still open. Sarah, Julian’s actual assistant, happened to be walking by. She heard him, her face contorted in a pained grimace, and she quickly scurried away. Sarah was constantly being ordered to run Julian’s personal errands without overtime pay. It was only after my repeated insistence that he’d grudgingly given her a small raise. I closed the door. “I told you about the hospital bill,” I said with a dry laugh. “But you were too busy having a moment with Claire, so you blocked me.” Claire bristled. “I know it was wrong of me to bother Julian yesterday, Miss Reed, but nothing happened between us. You have no right to slander me like that.” Julian’s face darkened. “Mina, watch your mouth. I told you, I was just comforting her. Don’t be so dirty-minded.” “Comforting her all night and bringing her to the office today?” Julian was momentarily speechless. “Claire said she needed something to do, so I brought her in. Starting today, she’ll be taking your position. You can be her deputy.” I stared at him. “Excuse me?” “She needs the work experience,” he said, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. “Don’t worry, your salary and benefits will remain the same. Only your title will change.” Claire put on a brave face. “I won’t be staying at Julian’s company for long, Miss Reed. You don’t have to worry.” I almost laughed. “And who’s going to do the actual work?” The responsibilities of Director and Deputy Director were worlds apart. Julian looked guilty. “Claire’s been living abroad. She’s not used to the corporate culture here. You’ll need to help her.” “Never mind,” Claire said, feigning nonchalance. “Perhaps I’m asking too much. I’ll figure something else out.” “Wait!” Julian grabbed her hand, then turned to me, his voice sharp. “Mina, be reasonable. I haven’t even gotten on your case about yesterday.” “Oh, cut the act, both of you,” I said with a thin smile. “I quit.” 03. News of my resignation spread through the company like wildfire. Members of my team flooded our group chat with messages of support, asking if I was taking them with me. I was surprised by how unpopular Julian was, though on reflection, it made perfect sense. In the early days, he’d been fine. But as the company grew, his respect for his employees dwindled. Benefits were constantly cut, and his primary method of compensation was empty promises. When I tried to reason with him, he’d get angry and lecture me about his version of “executive mindset.” I didn’t want to burn everything to the ground, and I planned on taking a break before looking for a new job, so I politely declined their offers. They were all top performers; they would have no trouble finding better positions elsewhere. A few days later, I received a call from a headhunter. The Winslow Corporation was offering me double my current salary, along with a host of other incredible benefits. They even said that if I could bring my team, the salary was negotiable. I hung up, completely bewildered. The Winslow Corporation was a titan of industry. Julian’s company, while successful, was a guppy next to their blue whale. Why on earth would they be headhunting me and my team? I suspected it was a scam, but the documents the headhunter sent over were legitimate. It was really them. I wracked my brain but couldn’t think of a single connection I had to the Winslows. Still, an opportunity like this was too good to pass up. I agreed to an interview. Just then, Julian summoned me to his office. I walked in to find him glowering. “What do you want?” “Why aren’t you cooperating with Claire?” “Cooperating with what? Making her coffee? Running photocopies? Is that my job now?” “She… she doesn’t know the ropes yet. You don’t have to have such a bad attitude. You could teach her.” “I’m already preparing the handover documents. I’ll get them to her as soon as possible. Until then, tell her to stay out of my way.” “Handover? What handover? You’ll be Director again as soon as she leaves.” “We broke up, Julian. It’s not appropriate for me to stay here.” “Broke up? I never agreed to that!” He shot to his feet, his face turning a dark shade of red. “Are you serious, Mina? You’re giving me a death sentence over one mistake?” “It wasn’t just one mistake. Have you forgotten what happened two years ago?” Two years ago, on the night we were supposed to celebrate our anniversary, Claire had called in a panic, claiming she had a fever. Julian had ignored my protests and rushed out to take her to the hospital. He didn’t come back for two days. When he finally did, he was full of apologies, saying he couldn’t bear the thought of her being sick and alone in the city, so far from her family. He swore to me it would never happen again. I still loved him then, so I forgave him. But I also told him there wouldn’t be a second time. Now, hearing me bring it up, Julian actually laughed. “Are you jealous? That was so long ago. Fine, I promise you. After I help her through this, I’ll cut off all contact. Just give me one more chance. Don’t they say everyone deserves a second chance?” I shook my head. “You should probably focus on getting her up to speed.” His expression hardened. “You’re really doing this?” “What did you expect?” I turned and walked out of his office. As the door clicked shut behind me, I heard the sound of something shattering against the wall. There was no “second chance” rule in my book. Forgiving him once had been a moment of love-induced madness I wouldn’t repeat. 04. I returned to my office to see Claire directing someone to move a cardboard box out of the room. The employee was moving at a glacial pace, and his face flooded with relief when he saw me. My stomach clenched. “In a hurry?” I asked, my voice tight. Claire crossed her arms. “Julian said I could have this office, so I had someone pack up your things.” I shot her a withering look. “You could have waited for me to get back. Were you raised to go through people’s belongings the second they turn their back?” I took the box from the employee. “You can go. I’ll handle it.” He practically fled. Walking back into my office, I immediately started rummaging through the box. Claire followed me in. “What are you doing?” “Making sure nothing’s missing or broken.” She scoffed. “You think I’d steal from you?” Just then, my fingers brushed against what I had been dreading I’d find at the bottom of the box. A fountain pen. The moment I saw it, the blood rushed to my head.

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