Author: Momo Chan

When I was in college, I was dirt poor. And I dated a guy who was richer than God. He was the undisputed king of New York’s elite, the kind of guy everyone just called by his last name, Ford. It was a love story that made no sense from any angle, and no one thought it would last. Not even him. “This is just a bit of fun,” he’d said. “Nothing serious.” So when I broke up with him, to save the last shred of my pride, I lied. I told him I’d fallen for someone else. That I didn’t want him anymore. His eyes, usually so cool and steady, burned with a furious, crimson-edged hurt. He told me if I walked out that door, I’d better not live to regret it. I never looked back. Five years later, we met again. And the man they now called the cold, untouchable head of the Ford empire cornered me on a darkened film set. “I told you to go, and you just… left?” he asked, his voice raw. “How could you be so goddamn heartless?” Then, his voice broke. “It was me. I’m the one who regrets it, Willa.” 1 The day the director announced our main investor was visiting the set, the name Landon Ford never once crossed my mind. At that moment, my back was to him as I ran lines with another actor. He was standing by the monitors, surrounded by a deferential cluster of suits, only a few feet away. A nervous lump formed in my throat. My fingers tightened on my script, the pages crinkling under the pressure, leaving deep creases. Thankfully, the producer scurried over with the film’s lead actress in tow. “Mr. Ford,” he said, his voice dripping with sycophancy, “I’d like you to meet our star. She’s one of the hottest new talents in the industry.” The woman, her makeup flawless, offered Landon a practiced, gentle smile. “Mr. Ford, we met once at a gala. I don’t know if you remember?” Landon barely glanced at her, a flicker of his eyes his only acknowledgment. He didn’t offer her a single courtesy. His gaze was locked on the monitor in front of him, his eyes dark and intense. For a split second, it was like watching a storm surge across a vast ocean, only to be swallowed by an unnerving calm. The producer, left hanging, nervously followed his line of sight to the screen. “Mr. Ford?” he ventured carefully. “Is something wrong?” A cool, thin smile touched the corner of Landon’s mouth. “No. I just saw someone I know.” The casual words, tossed out so carelessly, made the muscles in my back seize. A cold knot of panic tightened in my stomach. “Oh! An old friend on our set?” The producer’s face lit up, practically glowing with delight. “Who might that be?” In that instant, I felt a dozen pairs of eyes sweeping over the set, searching. Then, Landon’s voice, as cool and sharp as ever, cut through the air. “Her.” 2 “Her. Pippa.” The young actress standing across from me gasped. I just blinked, my mind struggling to catch up. The producer practically sprinted over, nudging me aside to enthusiastically guide Pippa toward Landon. Watching them talk, a familiarity in their exchange, the breath I’d been holding finally escaped in a silent, shaky rush. Thank God… Thank God he wasn’t talking about me. All these years had passed. An awkward reunion with an ex-boyfriend felt… not just cliché, but deeply unwelcome. Besides, they genuinely seemed to know each other. Even when Pippa, pushed in front of him, complained, “Hey, I was in the middle of running lines! What do you want?” Landon’s response was a lazy smirk. “Your brother told me to tell you to stop playing movie star and come home.” He was nothing like the short-tempered tyrant people whispered about. The producer’s beaming face was proof enough of that. Their meeting was going swimmingly. So swimmingly that when the producer and director suggested they all continue the conversation over dinner, Landon didn’t refuse. I watched their retreating backs, my body finally unclenching. I carefully smoothed out the mangled script in my hands and let out a long, slow sigh. Somehow, I’d survived the day. But just as she was about to turn the corner, Pippa glanced back over her shoulder. “Willa!” she called out, her voice bright and full of energy. “Do you want to come to dinner with us?” 3 For the first time in my life, I understood what it felt like for time to freeze. When the world snapped back into focus, I ducked my head, letting my hair fall forward to hide my face. “No, thanks. You guys go ahead. I have plans tonight.” I turned and walked away, my steps hurried, almost fleeing. I had no idea if Landon had recognized me. The lighting on set was dim; maybe he hadn’t gotten a clear look. Or maybe he had, and the current version of me simply held no significance for him. Our breakup had been a spectacular, ugly mess. I had humiliated him, a man so fiercely proud, in front of everyone he knew. I had been the one to dump him, my cruelty a sharp, decisive blade that shocked everyone. But only I knew the truth. I was the one who walked away, and I was the one who cried myself empty for weeks afterward. I could still hear Landon’s voice from that day, laced with fury. “Willa, if you walk out that door today, you better not live to regret it! If I ever see you again, I swear I’ll make you pay.” I knew he was capable of it. He was capable of anything. So I grabbed my bag and ran. And I never, ever looked back. But now, five years later, we were here. I chewed on my thumbnail, a wave of cold fear washing over me. It’s been so long. He wouldn’t… he wouldn’t still want revenge, would he? 4 Landon Ford had a bad temper. That was the one thing everyone who knew him could agree on. He was the heir to the Ford empire, the crown prince of New York City. It wasn’t just that his family had money and he had the looks of a fallen angel; he was brilliant, too, effortlessly acing his way through Columbia. If it weren’t for the fact that I was broke, I never would have taken that temp job as a model at a luxury car show. Our paths never would have crossed. The first time I saw Landon, it was in a private, gilded club in midtown. He was perched on a high stool, legs crossed, lazily propping his chin on one hand as he watched me interact with the host on stage. The upperclassman who’d gotten me the gig said I could make extra cash by doing a private showing for a group of rich kids after the main event. Money was the one thing that could make me bend, make my heart race. So there I was, in an ill-fitting gown and heels that pinched my feet, smiling in front of one gleaming supercar after another until my face felt like stone. I knew I was pretty. My roommates always said I had the face of an ice queen but the eyes of a lost fawn, a combination that could fool anyone who didn’t know the real me. But I had no idea how casually cruel the world of the wealthy could be. Before I had even stepped off the stage, a fleshy-faced man was leering at me, his voice slick with suggestion. “A college girl, huh? Need a little pocket money? Daddy can help with that.” My stomach turned. My face went rigid. But I needed the money, so I forced myself to pretend I hadn’t heard him. In a place like this, drowning in champagne and privilege, no one was going to help me. His comment was met with a chorus of encouraging snickers. But just as the man reached out to grab me, a chair came flying from above, crashing down on him and sending him stumbling back, blood suddenly blooming on his forehead. He clutched his head, roaring with rage at the second-floor balcony. “What the hell? Who the fuck threw that? You got a death wish?” That’s when Landon descended the staircase. He casually stubbed out a cigarette, his eyes sweeping the room through the haze of smoke before they finally landed on me, tucked away in the corner. He turned his cold gaze back to the bleeding man. “That would be your daddy,” he said, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. I remember my heart pounding, terrified they were about to get into a bloody fight because of me. But the man, who had been so aggressive and menacing moments before, underwent a bizarre transformation. He saw Landon, and a strained, anxious smile stretched across his face. He started wringing his hands, bowing his head. “A misunderstanding! A complete misunderstanding!” he stammered. “Mr. Ford, it was all a mistake!” He looked like a terrifying, life-sized bobblehead. It was both pathetic and deeply frightening. It was in that moment I understood. The title “crown prince” wasn’t just some nickname his friends had cooked up. And it was the first time I saw his temper, raw and unfiltered. He completely ignored the man’s frantic apologies. He simply nodded to his friends, and they broke the man’s arm—the same one he had reached out to touch me with. Afterward, Landon leaned back against a chair, lit another cigarette, and pressed the sole of his shoe onto the man’s head. “Try to keep the gutter trash in your head from now on,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous. “Otherwise, I might have to consider helping your family line end with you.” 5 A cold night wind swept through the lot. I waited, calculating how long a fancy dinner might last, before finally grabbing a jacket and stepping out of my trailer. The set was quiet for once, a rare lull before the night shoot began. I started down the familiar path toward the little diner I always went to. As I rounded a corner, I saw a silhouette standing in the moonlit path ahead. At first, I assumed it was a crew member returning from a break. But as I drew closer, a sense of unease made me slow my steps. There, under the bright, cold moon, stood Landon. Dressed in all black, he almost blended into the shadows. A cigarette smoldered between his fingers. He looked up through the rising smoke, his eyes meeting mine across the narrow path. Those eyes, dark and sharp as ink. They were exactly the same as the night we first met. … 6 The wind whispered through the trees. The world around us was utterly silent. My feet felt rooted to the spot. I turned, intending to walk away. “You’re an actress on this film?” Landon’s voice stopped me. My body tensed. “…Yes,” I managed, my voice barely a whisper. “What’s your role?” “The third lead.” “Going to dinner?” “Yes.” “You know who I am?” “Yes.” The film’s primary investor. The man who held our jobs in the palm of his hand. His rapid-fire questions made my palms sweat. I had no idea what he wanted, what his game was. Before I could process it, another question came. “Are you afraid of me?” … “No.” “Then why are you looking at the ground?” “The wind… it’s strong.” He let out a low, soft chuckle, his voice a little rough. “You remind me of someone I used to know.” My heart hammered against my ribs. My throat went dry. “Is that so? I guess that’s a compliment. I’ve been told I have one of those familiar faces.” “I suppose,” he mused. “In your line of work, looking like someone else is practically a job requirement.” I had nothing to say to that, so I just nodded slightly. Silence fell between us again. I watched him light another cigarette. The smoke curled from his fingertips, coiling in the air like something dangerous, barely contained. A chill ran down my spine. That 불안, that deep-seated anxiety, returned. I couldn’t figure out the point of this conversation. I’d been in the entertainment industry for three years. While I’d certainly changed from the girl I was in college, I wasn’t a completely different person. But in the dim light, with his cryptic words hanging in the air, I couldn’t tell if he genuinely didn’t recognize me, or if, to a man like him, I was simply someone not worth remembering. In the end, it didn’t matter which it was. We were not in a position to be having this kind of late-night heart-to-heart. I pulled my jacket tighter against the cold. “Mr. Ford,” I said, my voice muffled. “I have a night shoot soon. If you’ll excuse me.” I started to step around him, my head down. “Willa Hayes.” His voice stopped me cold. My heart dropped into my stomach.

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My mom made a rule to stop us twins from fighting over gifts. Every year, Zoe and I would take turns making a “big wish.” Odd years were mine, even years were hers. The first even year, she used all her savings to send Zoe to a Disney summer camp. When my first odd year came, all I wanted was a laptop for school. But my mom said money was tight, and promised she’d make it up to me the next year. The next year, she bought Zoe the newest iPhone. The year after that, when it was my turn again, she said Zoe needed expensive tutoring… My wishes were “postponed” indefinitely. Until my eighteenth birthday. I made a wish over my cake, hoping for my very own first phone. After I blew out the candles, my mother handed me a beautifully wrapped box. I opened it, my hands trembling with excitement. Inside was my sister’s old, discarded phone, its screen a spiderweb of cracks. She smiled and said, “Zoe felt so bad for you, she insisted you have the phone she just replaced. Even the charger is brand new!” 1 My eighteenth birthday party was a lively affair, filled with relatives and noise. My mom brought out the cake and told me to make a wish. I closed my eyes, my mind fixed on a single thought: a phone of my own. After the candles were out, Mom produced a beautifully wrapped box from behind her back and handed it to me with a smile. My hands were shaking. In all these years, this was the first time she had ever gotten me a gift on one of my odd years. I tore open the box. Inside was an old phone, the screen fractured with a half-dozen cracks, like a shattered web. “Zoe felt so bad for you,” my mom said, her voice bright. “She insisted you have the phone she just replaced. Even the charger is brand new! Now, what do you say to your sister?” I said nothing. I looked up and saw Zoe across the room, happily snapping pictures of everyone with her brand-new iPhone, a wide smile on her face. All eyes were on me. I held up the broken phone, my gaze locked on my mother. “Mom, is this what you meant by ‘my turn’?” “Is this the fairness you promised for eighteen years? One for me, one for her?” A murmur rippled through our relatives. I didn’t care about them. Tonight, I was going to make things clear. “When I was fourteen, it was my turn. I needed a laptop for a major competition. You said money was tight and promised you’d get it for me the next year.” “I had no choice. I had to camp out in the school library every single night, using their public computers until they kicked me out. In the end, my project was downgraded, and I missed out on a state scholarship.” “When I was sixteen, it was my turn again. My eyesight was getting worse, I couldn’t see the board in class, and all I wanted was a new pair of glasses. You told me to wait, that the money had to be spent on more important things.” “I wore those old glasses for two whole years, suffering from blinding headaches every single day. I couldn’t focus in class at all.” I pointed a trembling finger at my sister. “But during those same years, you sent Zoe to a Disney summer camp for half a month.” “You hired her a private art tutor who’d studied abroad—a single one of her lessons cost more than a new pair of glasses for me.” “You even bought her a purebred Corgi, saying a girl shouldn’t be lonely without a pet.” “Every one of my wishes was for my education, to help me see clearly. Every one of hers was for fun. And now you’re telling me this is fair?” The color drained from my mother’s face. She reached for my hand, but I snatched it away. “How can you be so ungrateful!” she exclaimed, her voice rising. “When have I ever shown favoritism?” “Your sister gave you something she loves, and you’re still not happy? This is about sisterly love, Chloe, why can’t you understand that?” “We only have so much money! Of course it has to be spent where it counts! Zoe’s tutoring is expensive, and she needs to socialize with her friends. All of that costs money! You’re just a student, what do you need such nice things for anyway?” I looked at her as if she were a stranger. “So only Zoe’s needs are what ‘counts’?” I kept pushing, my voice growing louder with every question. My mother’s face burned with humiliation under the curious stares of our relatives. Finally, she broke. “Enough!” she shrieked. “You think I didn’t want to buy you things?” “I never saved that money for your laptop! The minute Zoe mentioned at the dinner table that she saw people riding horses on TV and thought it looked cool, I signed her up for equestrian lessons!” “It was over a hundred dollars a lesson! That money was gone in a flash!” She glared at me, her eyes red and furious, the truth finally spilling out in a torrent of resentment. “‘I’ll make it up to you next year’—it was all a lie! Where was I supposed to get that kind of money? With two kids, I could only afford to focus on one of you! What else was I supposed to do?” 2 After that disastrous birthday party, a heavy silence fell over the house for days. The moment I got home from school, I’d lock myself in my room. I remembered when we were little, even choosing where to go on weekends was supposed to be a rotation. Odd weeks were my choice, even weeks were Zoe’s. But whenever it was my turn and I’d say I wanted to go to the science museum, my mom would claim the forecast called for rain. If I suggested the library, she’d say it was too stuffy and that children needed open spaces. Then she’d turn to my sister. “Zoe, didn’t you want to go to the amusement park again?” Zoe would nod enthusiastically. And Mom would pat my shoulder. “You’re the older sister by a few minutes, Chloe. You have to be the sensible one and let her have her way. Look how much she wants to go.” And just like that, my odd weeks became Zoe’s even weeks, time and time again. “Sensible.” That word was a leash she’d kept around my neck my whole life. A few days later, my mom knocked on my door. She was holding a shoebox containing the limited-edition sneakers I’d been dreaming of for months. She pushed the box into my hands, a placating smile on her face. “Mom knows she was wrong. Don’t be angry anymore. Look, I bought you the shoes you wanted for so long.” A part of me softened. I opened the box. The sneakers were beautiful, exactly like the ones I wanted. I tried them on. They fit perfectly. My mom watched me, a look of relief washing over her. “Happy now?” I didn’t answer, but the anger inside me had begun to subside. That weekend, we had a family dinner with all the relatives. Zoe and I both wore our new sneakers. An aunt noticed. “Oh, look at you two! Matching shoes, how lovely! Those are hard to get ahold of these days, aren’t they?” My mom instantly perked up, her voice booming with pride. “You have no idea! I had to pull strings with several friends just to get my hands on them. They were incredibly expensive!” She shot me a pointed look, making sure to lecture me in front of everyone. “You hear that, Chloe? Your mother thinks of you. This time, it was your turn, and I came through. You need to learn not to be so petty, don’t make a fuss with me over every little thing.” My hand, reaching for a piece of food, froze mid-air. I looked down at the sneakers on my feet, then over at Zoe’s. On Zoe’s pair, the logo’s edges were perfectly crisp, and the leather had a distinct sheen. Mine, after only a few days of wear, already had a faint crease forming at the toe. Something was wrong. A fire ignited in my gut, roaring all the way to my head. I put down my chopsticks and stood up. Everyone stared at me. Without a word, I bent down and pulled the fake sneaker off my foot. Then I walked over to Zoe. She flinched, trying to shrink away from me. I pointed at her feet. “Take it off.” My mother’s face went white. “What are you doing now? Are you trying to bully your sister in front of everyone?” I ignored her and repeated to Zoe, “Take it off.” Zoe was frozen, so I did it myself, yanking the authentic sneaker right off her foot. I carried the two shoes—one real, one fake—back to the dining table. I placed them side-by-side in the center for all to see. “Everyone, take a good look,” I said, my eyes fixed on my mother. “You said you pulled strings with friends? Tell me, which friend sold you this one? Look at the stitching, the glue. Now look at Zoe’s. Do you take everyone here for a fool?” The table fell silent. The relatives craned their necks to get a better view. The difference between the real and the counterfeit was glaringly obvious. My mother stared at me for a few seconds before her face crumpled and she burst into tears. She didn’t mention the shoes. Instead, she pointed an accusing finger at me, her voice choked with sobs. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You just had to humiliate me in front of the whole family!” “After everything I’ve done to raise you, you make a scene over something so trivial! All my hard work, completely wasted!” She cried as if she were the one who had been deeply wronged. “They look better on your sister anyway! Her feet are smaller, the style suits her. Your feet are so big, even the real ones wouldn’t look as good on you!” “I ran all over town to find a decent copy for you! Do you think fakes are free? I was thinking of you, trying to make sure you had a pair too, and this is how you repay me? You turn around and bite the hand that feeds you!” She turned to our relatives, her voice thick with anguish. “Tell me, what did I do wrong? I gave them both something, what more does she want? She’s always been like this, ever since she was a little girl. She can’t stand to see her sister have anything nice!” Her gaze snapped back to me, her voice rising to a shriek as she pointed at the shoes on the table. “Besides, they’re just shoes! You wear them on your feet, not on your head! Who’s going to get down on their knees and check if they’re real or fake? You have something to wear, and that should be enough! Why are you so obsessed with the details?” 3 My uncle, who had been examining the shoes, cleared his throat. “Alright now, let’s talk this out calmly. This is no way to treat your mother.” Another relative chimed in, “Exactly. Your mother has sacrificed so much for you. Don’t break her heart like this.” No one mentioned the shoes anymore. Suddenly, I was the one in the wrong. I didn’t say another word. That night, I went back to my room and started packing my things into a suitcase. My high school offered dorms, and I had applied long ago, but my mother had always forbidden it. Now, I was done listening to her. I left in the middle of the night with just a few changes of clothes and my textbooks. The dorm supervisor took pity on me and set me up in an empty storage closet with nothing but a bare bed frame. I huddled under my own jacket, unable to sleep a wink. At dawn, my phone rang. It was my dad. It was the first time he had called me since the birthday party. It was noisy on his end; it sounded like he was playing cards. “I heard you’ve been causing trouble at home again,” he said without any preamble. “Go home and apologize to your mother. You hear me?” “She gave me fake shoes, and you want me to apologize?” I asked. He was impatient. “It’s a pair of shoes, for God’s sake. Is it worth all this drama? You’re going to make your mother sick. I’m telling you, go home right now, or you won’t get another cent from me.” He hung up. I checked my bank app. Available balance: $7.35. I went downstairs and bought two plain buns for a dollar. That was my food for the day. A few days later, one of my mom’s closest friends, a Mrs. Davis, came to find me at school. She held my hand and went on and on about how difficult my mother’s life was, raising two children all by herself. She was carrying a thermos. “Your mother’s blood pressure is acting up. She’s stuck in bed, but she was worried you weren’t eating, so she had me bring you some soup.” She opened it, and the smell of a pork rib soup I hated filled the air. “Your mother still loves you, Chloe. She’s just proud. If you give her a way out of this, it’ll all blow over.” I looked at her. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll go home. On one condition.” A smile bloomed on Mrs. Davis’s face. “Tell me. I’ll help you talk to your mom.” “When I was fourteen, my mother owed me a laptop. If she buys me one now, I’ll go back. I’m not picky about the brand, as long as it works.” The smile vanished from Mrs. Davis’s face. “How can you be so selfish! Your mother is sick, and you’re trying to blackmail her with this? She doesn’t have that kind of spare cash! Are you trying to put her in the hospital?” I didn’t go home. Instead, I wrote everything down. From the laptop at fourteen to the glasses at sixteen, and finally, the broken phone at eighteen. Next to my list, I detailed Zoe’s Disney summer camp, her international art classes, and her brand-new iPhone. Shortly after I posted it online, Zoe called me, sobbing. “Chloe, why would you post that? Everyone at school has seen it, they’re all asking me about it! How could you humiliate us like this?” “How about we trade?” I asked. She went silent. “You can have this cracked phone, and I’ll go to Disney next time. You can live in a storage closet and eat stale bread while you wait for a laptop that will never come, and I’ll use your iPhone. Do we have a deal?” She didn’t say another word. After a moment, she hung up. The post started getting a lot of attention. That evening, I got a call from an unknown number. It was my aunt Carol, my dad’s sister. She was a successful businesswoman in another city, and we hadn’t seen each other in years. She didn’t waste time with small talk. “Are your things packed?” I was confused. “What?” “I’ve booked you a seat on the first train out tomorrow morning. I got your ID number from your father. I’m texting you my address. You’re coming to live with me. I’ll help you figure things out with your school once you get here.” 4 The day after I arrived at my aunt’s house, she took me shopping. She bought me a brand-new, top-of-the-line laptop, a new phone, and several new outfits. My hands trembled as I held the laptop. Aunt Carol patted my back. “This is what you should have had all along. From now on, if you need anything, you tell me.” For the first time in my life, I had my own room, a big desk, and a balcony that got plenty of sunlight. I set up the new computer, turned it on, and logged into the website for the coding camp I’d always dreamed of attending. My mom had always said it was too expensive and useless for a girl. Aunt Carol transferred me the money on the spot. “If you want to learn, then learn. It’s always good for a girl to have skills of her own.” A few days later, Zoe messaged me. It was the first time she had ever reached out to me. She asked if I was settling in okay, if Aunt Carol was being good to me. After a few pleasantries, she got to the point. “Hey, so I’m getting ready for this big national youth painting competition. It would be a huge boost for my college applications.” I didn’t reply. She sent another message. “I heard Aunt Carol works in publishing and knows a lot of the judges. I was wondering… could you put in a good word for me? Just tell her I’m really talented and ask if she could recommend me.” I stared at the words and almost laughed. So now that she needed something, I was her sister again. I typed back a simple reply: “Can’t help you.” She immediately sent a voice message, her tone frantic. “Why not, Chloe? We’re sisters, you’re supposed to help me! This is really important!” I typed my response. “Aunt Carol just paid for a very expensive coding camp for me. I don’t want to bother her for anything else.” I paused, then added one more line. “It’s the same camp I needed the laptop for back then, to work on my competition project. The one Mom said we couldn’t afford. Remember?” “By the way, how much is the entry fee for your competition? If you’re short on cash, you could always sell that Louis Vuitton bag of yours. That should cover it.” A few days later, I was in my room reviewing materials for the camp when the doorbell rang. Aunt Carol went to answer it. I heard my mother’s loud voice booming from downstairs. “I’m here to see my daughter! A mother misses her child, is there something wrong with that?” Aunt Carol didn’t let them in. “I’m sorry,” she said calmly, “but she’s doing very well here. She needs to study right now and can’t have visitors.” My mother’s voice got even louder. “Visitors? I’m her mother! What do you mean you’re hiding her from me? Are you trying to turn my own daughter against me?” I walked to the window and looked down. Seeing that she wasn’t getting in, my mother plopped herself down on the edge of a planter in the complex courtyard. Zoe stood beside her, looking mortified. Then, my mother started slapping her knees and wailing. “What have I done to deserve this! I worked my fingers to the bone to raise that girl, and the moment she grows wings, she disowns me!” Neighbors started coming out to see what the commotion was about. My mother’s cries grew louder as she played to the audience. “My younger daughter, she’s a gifted artist! She has a huge competition coming up, and all she wanted was for her sister to put in a good word with a relative. But her? She won’t even help! She just throws us out!” She pointed up at my window. “She’s moved up in the world now, you see! She’s too good for us! But her sister is a genius, and she is obligated to help her! It’s her duty as an older sister! If she refuses, she’ll be ruining her sister’s life! What kind of monster does that to her own flesh and blood?” Zoe tugged at her arm, begging her to stop. My mom shoved her away. “Leave me alone! I want everyone to hear this! I’m a mother, and I have to treat my children equally! She must help you!” I stood behind the curtain, watching the circus unfold below. My mother was putting on a show, wiping at her dry eyes with her sleeve, but her gaze kept darting toward my aunt’s front door. She was watching for a reaction. She wasn’t here for Zoe’s competition. She was terrified that with Aunt Carol as my new supporter, I was no longer under her control. She was here to drag me back into her drama. Aunt Carol came upstairs and stood beside me. “Do you want me to go down there and make them leave?” I shook my head, my eyes still on the wailing woman below. “No,” I said. “Let her make a scene.”

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Eight years, six months, and twenty-five days. That’s how long Landon and I were together. And then, we weren’t. It ended because of his phone. He placed it face down on the table while we were having dinner. The buzz of a notification vibrated against the wood, sounding like a countdown to the end of us. I put down my fork. “Landon, I think we should break up.” The man across from me, the man I’d loved for nearly a decade, let out a breath he looked like he’d been holding forever. He didn’t even bother with a token “why?” “Okay,” he said. Just like that. The charade was over. All because of a stupid, grand promise he’d made back in high school, in front of everyone at a pep rally. “Chloe,” he’d yelled into the microphone, “I will never, ever be the one to break up with you.” And he wasn’t. He just waited for me to do it. 1 It took him less than ten minutes to pack his things. It was like he’d already rehearsed it in his head, a mental checklist of what was his and what could be left behind. What was worth taking, and what was just sentimental junk. Just like our relationship. The cracks had been showing for months. But because of that damn promise, he kept playing the part of the devoted partner. The perfect, twenty-four-seven boyfriend. He’d bring me flowers, rub my feet, tell me he loved me. His body could go through the motions. His heart? Not so much. I saw it in the little things. The way his lips would curl into a private smile when he was looking at his phone. The way he’d absentmindedly recommend a different brand of tampons at the store, saying, “This one has better leak protection,” even though I’d used the same brand for years. He even started getting into cooking—fancy, complicated dishes I never liked. I watched him, piece by piece, un-love me. The final straw wasn’t the phone. It was him forgetting the anniversary of my mom’s death. So, I said the words. And he agreed. So quickly it felt like a dream. A nightmare. 2 Less than an hour after he walked out, my friend sent me a link to an Instagram Reel. It was Landon, his arm wrapped around his new girlfriend, both of them laughing into the camera. The caption was a simple heart emoji. My hand tightened around my phone. Of course. It was her. The new intern from work. Jenna. The one who followed me around like a puppy, her voice always saccharine sweet. “Chloe, you’re a lifesaver! I just don’t get these spreadsheets, can you show me one more time?” “Don’t you worry about a thing on your business trip, Chloe! I’ll totally watch your cat!” “Oh my gosh, Chloe, just go! So your boyfriend has a little stomach bug and is in the hospital for a few days? He’s a big boy! I can totally bring him some soup, it’s no problem at all!” I stared down at the cold, greasy takeout on my coffee table. A wave of nausea rolled through me, hot and acidic. I barely made it to the bathroom before I was retching, heaving until there was nothing left. Disgusting. They were both so disgusting. 3 I called in sick for three days. After Landon left, the vomiting didn’t stop. At first, I thought it was just a visceral reaction to the double-barreled betrayal from my boyfriend and my protégé. But then, when I tried to clean up the kitchen, the smell of leftover salmon sent me running back to the toilet. A dark, cold dread settled in my stomach. I went to the drugstore downstairs and bought a pregnancy test. Two bright pink lines stared back at me, mocking me. The world went a little fuzzy at the edges. Isn’t that hilarious? Just two weeks ago, Landon had pulled me into bed, his hands and mouth everywhere. We’d made love all night, a desperate, almost frantic kind of energy between us. “Chloe,” he’d whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “Let’s have a baby.” We didn’t use protection that time. What a coincidence. I squeezed my eyes shut. It took me three full days to even begin to process the fact that Landon was gone. My hand drifted to my stomach, a gesture I didn’t even recognize. I’m sorry, little one. You weren’t wanted. You were a tool. You were never meant to exist. 4 My friend Sarah called, trying to drag me out for drinks with the group. “Come on,” she’d said. “You can’t just rot in your apartment.” She was right. Three days of marinating in my own misery was enough to suffocate anyone. Getting out sounded good. I just didn’t expect him to be there. And I really didn’t expect him to bring her. He cornered me near the bar, his new girlfriend hiding behind his arm like a frightened deer. “Chloe,” he said, his voice low and firm. “What happened between us is in the past.” He glanced back at Jenna, then looked at me again. “Jenna’s not like you. She’s… innocent. Her feelings get hurt easily. Don’t pull any of your corporate power-play crap on her.” I set my wine glass down on the counter. This was all just so, so pathetic. 5 The moment Landon said those words, a hush fell over our friends. They all just stared, their faces a mixture of pity and embarrassment for me. I looked at Landon, at this man I had spent almost a third of my life with, and felt like I was looking at a complete stranger. As if on cue, Jenna flinched and shrank further behind him. Landon’s jaw tightened, and he pulled her closer, shielding her. “This isn’t the office, Chloe,” he warned. “Don’t treat her like one of your underlings.” Hah. A small, sharp laugh escaped my lips. I picked up my jacket from the back of the chair. “I already paid the tab. You guys have fun.” I turned to leave. “I’m out.” As I walked past, I saw a flicker of something complicated in Landon’s eyes. Regret? Doubt? It was gone before I could be sure. My phone rang as I was waiting for my Uber. It was him. “Chloe, you’re a reasonable person,” he started, no preamble. “I hope what happened with us isn’t going to affect Jenna’s job. Don’t make things hard for her at the company.” My car pulled up to the curb. I hung up without a word. 6 Jenna was the new intern. Fresh out of college, always trying so hard, but messing things up in that way that only someone with zero real-world experience can. I was tough on her, sure, but I also felt for her. I’d see her crying quietly in a bathroom stall and it was like looking at a ghost of my younger self. So I took her under my wing. I bought her a decent blazer for a client meeting she was nervous about. Sometimes, when Landon and I had a dinner date, I’d bring her along just so she could have a nice meal. When did it change? When did they start building their own little world, right under my nose? Was it that time Landon was sick and I was out of town, and I asked her to drop off some cold medicine? Or was it during that big project launch, when he was hospitalized with that stomach bug and she volunteered to bring him “healthy, home-cooked meals” every single day? I never suspected a thing. I just thought their easy rapport, the way they finished each other’s sentences, was because they had similar tastes. Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore. 7 The alarm went off right on schedule. The adult world doesn’t pause for heartbreak. Even if your life has imploded, you have a finite amount of time to grieve before you have to get up and go to work. Three days off was a luxury. Today, even if the building was on fire, I had to be there. I looked at my reflection. Dark, bruised circles hung under my eyes. But I put on my best power suit and did my makeup with extra care. Today was supposed to be my promotion party. Our director had quit a month ago, and she’d recommended me to the VP as her successor. My probation period was officially over yesterday. All signs pointed to the VP announcing my promotion today. People were already joking in the group chat about me buying the first round of drinks. We’d all planned to go to that new trendy tapas place tonight. My treat. But when I walked into the office, the vibe was… weird. People looked at me with a strange mix of pity and discomfort, then quickly looked away. I had a bad feeling. Just as I sat down at my desk, Jenna walked in. She was wearing a brand-new designer dress, looking like she owned the place. Two assistants followed her, their arms loaded with coffee carriers from the expensive place down the street. She clapped her hands together, a bright, fake smile on her face. “Good morning, everyone! You’ve all been working so hard, so tonight, drinks are on me! Don’t make any plans!” The assistants started handing out the coffees. Everyone got one. Except, of course, for me. I already knew what was coming. Jenna finally seemed to notice me, her eyes widening in mock surprise. “Oh, Chloe! I didn’t see you there! I’m so sorry, I thought you were still out sick, so I didn’t get you one.” She walked over, holding out her own cup. “Here, I haven’t touched this. You can have mine, if you don’t mind.” I didn’t move to take it. She pressed the cup into my hand, and the second my fingers brushed against the cardboard sleeve, she let go. The cup exploded on the floor, splashing hot coffee all over my shoes and the hem of my pants. “Chloe, what the hell?” Before I could even speak, a hand shoved me back. Landon. He’d appeared out of nowhere, pulling Jenna back and inspecting her as if she were made of glass. “Are you okay? Did you get burned?” he asked, his voice thick with concern. “Oh my god, look! Chloe’s hand is red!” one of my coworkers gasped. Landon’s eyes darted to my hand, which was stinging from the splash. But before he could process it, Jenna tugged on his sleeve, her eyes welling up with perfectly formed tears. “I’m fine, Landon, really. Don’t be mad at Chloe, she just… she didn’t get a good grip on it. It was an accident…” she whispered, trailing off into a pathetic little sniffle. His gaze on me turned to ice. He turned back to Jenna, stroking her hair. “You’re too nice. You’re going to get taken advantage of if you keep being like this.” Jenna beamed up at him, a tiny, triumphant smile playing on her lips. They walked away, their heads close together, whispering. I just stood there, watching them. So that’s how it works. Love doesn’t die. It just gets transferred. The same care, the same concern, the same protective instinct Landon had shown me for eight years… he just copied and pasted it onto someone new. 8 At five o’clock, I was sitting in the VP’s office. I’d been with this company for seven years. I was there when we were a five-person startup in a cramped office, and I helped build it into what it is today. I’ve left my blood, sweat, and tears on every floor of this building. That Director position? I had earned it. The VP, a man I respected, couldn’t even look me in the eye. He rubbed his temples. “Chloe, I know. You’re a cornerstone of this company. But you have to understand…” He paused, then sighed, as if giving up. “Knightley Tech just signed a massive contract with us. Massive. It’s enough to set us up for the next five years. Chloe… you can’t fight a tidal wave. Do you understand what I’m saying?” My eyes dropped to the floor. Knightley Tech. Landon’s family company. Of course. 9 My hands, resting in my lap, started to tremble. I knew the VP was in a tough spot. To save myself the humiliation of breaking down in front of him, I just nodded and walked out of his office. By now, the office was mostly empty. I locked myself in a bathroom stall and finally let the sobs come, ugly and silent. Landon’s break-up-by-proxy was one thing. I could handle that. But this… this was a whole new level of cruel. Having my promotion, the one thing I had worked myself to the bone for, handed to her on a silver platter because Landon had flexed his family’s muscle… that broke me. He knew. He knew how many all-nighters I’d pulled, how much I had sacrificed for that job. And in the end, he was the one who stuck the knife in my back. “Do you think Chloe will actually go to Jenna’s party tonight?” I heard a voice say from the sink area. “No way! But man, if she does, it’s gonna be a show,” another voice laughed. “It’s so messed up, though. The whole thing is wild.” “What’s to be surprised about? She was the tech heir’s girlfriend, so the company kissed her ass. Now he’s bored, so the promotion goes to the new girl. That’s how it works.” The first voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “Did you hear what he told Mark? He said he was bored. Said that touching her was like his left hand holding his right hand.” “Oh, god, that’s brutal. He said sleeping with her was like doing a chore? Ouch. Hahahaha!” CRACK. The sound of the stall door slamming open made them both jump. They turned, and their faces went pale when they saw me. “Ch-Chloe?” 10 I walked slowly to the sink and washed my hands, taking my time. I looked at their terrified reflections in the mirror. “What’s wrong?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “Want to try your luck with Landon’s hand, too?” They practically tripped over each other scrambling out of the bathroom. “Tch. Whatever,” one of them muttered as they fled. I pulled a crumpled cigarette out of my purse and lit it, inhaling deeply. The smoke swirled and dissipated in front of my face. Landon hadn’t changed at all. When he likes someone, he spoils them rotten. One day, he’s warning me not to use my position to bully his precious Jenna. The next, he’s using his family’s corporate might to crush me for her. This world is so goddamn screwed up. 11 When I walked out of the building, a sleek, black Tesla was parked illegally at the curb. I knew that car. Landon was leaning against the driver’s side door, smoking. He saw me and gestured for me to come over. I hesitated for a second, then walked toward him. Only when I got closer did I see her. Jenna. Sitting in the passenger seat. My seat. I remembered all the times she’d stood right where I was standing now, looking at me in that seat with wide, envious eyes. “Your boyfriend is so amazing, Chloe.” “You have to watch out for all the snakes trying to steal him, Chloe! Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out for you!” I flashed back to a few months ago. I saw Landon’s car parked downstairs and assumed he was surprising me. But then Jenna rushed past me like a blur, pulling open the passenger door and starting to climb in. I called her name, and she froze. For a split second, I saw panic in her eyes before she smoothed it over, closing the door. “Oh, Chloe! I thought you were already in there!” she’d said, linking her arm through mine. “I was just going to ask if you wanted to grab dinner!” Landon’s expression had been perfectly neutral. The flicker of suspicion I felt vanished as quickly as it came. God, I wasn’t just blind. I was willfully stupid. Now, Jenna smiled at me from her perch. “Hey, Chloe.” My eyes scanned the interior of the car. Everything was different. The custom gray leather seats we’d picked out together were gone, replaced with some hideous baby-pink version. The passenger seat had a fluffy, sequined pillow propped against it. The faded Polaroid from our first road trip that I’d tucked into the sun visor was gone. In its place on the dashboard was a pair of ceramic swans, their necks intertwined. And stuck to the glove compartment was a strip of photo-booth pictures of Landon and Jenna making kissy faces. Next to it, in bubbly pink vinyl letters, was a sticker: [Jenna’s Throne] Jenna saw me looking. A smug little smile played on her lips. “Sorry, Chloe,” she said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. “Old things just have to be tossed out, you know? They get worn out.” She tilted her head. “Cute pictures, right?” And for the first time in days, I felt something other than pain or rage. I suddenly laughed.

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The day Hollywood’s golden boy announced his wedding, the biggest star in the world spent the entire night smoking on her balcony. I leaned against the doorframe, a smirk on my face. “You should go crash the wedding.” Stella stubbed out her cigarette and curled into my arms. Her fingers traced the long, faded scar on my forearm—a souvenir from the time I took a knife for her. “You big idiot,” she whispered. “Don’t you have any faith in yourself?” Two days later, a friend at TMZ sent me a video. It was Stella, on a stage, tears streaming down her face as she and Ethan Cole kissed, a crowd roaring around them. That’s when the System came back online. Its voice was full of pity. I managed to get you a special offer. For just one dollar, you can continue to live… as Stella’s husband. I walked to the edge of the pier and tossed a dollar coin into the dark, churning water. “No, thanks.” It was only later that I heard the stories. How the great Stella Vance was squandering her fortune and her sanity, trying to dredge the entire Pacific coastline. All to find a single coin. 1 When the black Escalade came for me, I happened to be clutching a dollar coin in my hand. The System, silent for years, flickered back to life in my mind. Its voice was tinny, laced with a digital sob. I got you a deal! For just one dollar, you can keep living as Stella’s husband. My mind flashed back to last night, to Stella on the balcony. She was at the top of her game now. She didn’t need to chain-smoke her anxieties away anymore. It had to be about Ethan Cole’s engagement. I saw her out there, a lonely silhouette against the LA skyline. “You should go crash the wedding,” I’d teased. She turned, stepping out of the shadows. Her beautiful face, always so cool and distant to the rest of the world, softened for me. Her fingers found the scar on my arm. “You big idiot,” she’d murmured, a small smile playing on her lips. “What crazy things are you thinking?” “That you’ll run off with him,” I said, no filter. Her smile widened, brilliant and blinding. She threw her arms around my neck. “If I left a man like you for him, I’d be the stupidest woman alive. So, don’t leave me tonight, okay?” Stella had been busy. Her new production company was taking off. She was always out late, handling “emergencies.” “Deal,” I’d said, forcing a smile so wide it hurt, hoping it would hide the sadness in my eyes. “Even if the studio explodes, I’m not going anywhere.” But I didn’t have any hope. Not really. Not when Ethan Cole was so sure of himself. An Instagram DM had appeared earlier that day, from a burner account. Wanna bet? I snap my fingers, she comes running. I’d replied politely. Who is this? You need me to introduce myself? Come on, charity case. We’ve met. At the group home. In your bed. 2 Those words froze me to the couch. He knew everything. He knew I was the dirty, clumsy kid from the foster system that no one ever wanted. Why are you telling me this? I typed back. I’m just trying to have a relationship here, and your constant neediness is a pain in my ass. Every time there’s a thunderstorm in LA, she has to drop everything and run home to you. It’s nothing personal. I just find it annoying. So, I’m getting rid of the annoyance. I clenched my jaw just as the front door opened. Stella swept in, looking radiant. “Liam, did you miss me?” she asked, her tone so casual, like she was just getting home from a long day at the office. But I saw it. One of the silk ribbons on her dress was torn. And in the photo Ethan had just sent me, I could see the faint flush on her cheek, the look she got when she was… moved. A flash of lightning split the sky outside. Stella’s phone began to buzz incessantly. This was his bet. He wanted me to see, with my own eyes, who she would choose. And deep down, in that old, insecure part of me that never really went away, I knew I would lose. She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me close. But her body was stiff. “Liam,” she said softly. “Have you ever thought that hiding from your fears isn’t a long-term solution?” I knew what she meant. “The day I pulled you out of that collapsed building, I watched lightning strike my best friend right in front of me.” I was terrified of loud noises, of that raw, natural power that could erase a person in an instant. I only ever had two real friends in the system. One of them was gone. Now, there was only Stella. She turned my face to hers, her gaze intense. “Liam, you need to grow up. The company is at a critical stage. You want me to be free from that horrible studio contract, right? This company is my hope. It’s our future.” I had always supported her, in everything. But for once, I was selfish. “I don’t want you to go,” I whispered. Her phone kept vibrating. A flicker of impatience crossed her features, so fast I might have imagined it. “Just think about it, Liam.” She stood up and started texting. She didn’t know that Ethan was screenshotting everything and sending it to me. Ethan: Not on your way yet? Stella: He’s throwing a tantrum. Ethan: The kid who used to drink out of the toilet at the group home is throwing a tantrum? Wow. Look, Stella, if you can’t make it, it’s fine. I’ll just let my psycho fiancée keep trying to break down the door. She probably won’t actually stab me. This is America, after all. Stella: [Weary emoji] I’ve spoiled him. I’ll teach him to be more independent. Don’t be scared. I’m on my way. She put her phone down just as I finished reading. “I’ll be back to make you your favorite dinner,” she promised. She pulled on her jacket, but paused at the door and came back to plant a light, cool kiss on my forehead. The door clicked shut. Hello, Liam, the System’s voice echoed in my head. I’m sorry we have to meet again. I never seem to bring good news. I wanted to hug it, this strange, sad entity. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault.” It’s not your fault, either, it replied, its voice clear and kind. 3 The next day was my birthday. For the first time ever, Stella wasn’t there. I texted her. Eight hours later, she replied with a photo of herself smiling brightly next to a street sign in Paris. Stella: Paris is beautiful, Liam. When I’m done with this, I’ll take you here. We’ll celebrate your birthday then. I texted back: Okay. But the photo wasn’t from today. Minutes earlier, my friend from TMZ had sent me the video. “Married actress crashes A-lister’s wedding. Funniest shit I’ve ever seen. That snake Ethan Cole didn’t even need to marry that girl—her family’s company just went bankrupt. He did this on purpose, trending on Twitter for weeks about his tragic, arranged marriage. Fucking drama queen.” In the video, Stella and Ethan Cole were kissing, sobbing in each other’s arms, surrounded by a cheering crowd. I’d recognized Ethan the first time I saw him on screen. People are haunted by what they couldn’t have in their youth. For Stella, he was that. One year, a senator’s son came to stay at our group home for a month as a charity project. That was Ethan. Stella, who was usually my shadow, barely spoke to me the entire time. I thought he was just a passing phase. I was wrong. He was the moon she could never reach. And I was just the familiar, boring earth she was stuck on. While Stella was kissing Ethan in front of the world, I was walking down the street, trying to buy myself a birthday cake. When the Escalade mounted the curb and accelerated toward me, I just stood there. I didn’t even move. How can the punishment be happening ahead of schedule? the System asked, confused. “It’s okay,” I told it. “I got to live a lot longer than I was supposed to. I saw some beautiful things.” That day the lightning struck, it hit me, too. I had thrown myself over Stella to protect her. That’s when the System first appeared. It told me to choose one person. If I could make them fall in love with me, I could live. I chose Stella. We’d survived the system together, clinging to each other. It seemed like the safest, most certain path in the world. In this last moment, I realized my mistake. Love isn’t that simple. The System tearfully froze time. A moment later, its light pulsed. I got you one last chance. For one dollar. You can keep living as Stella’s husband. But… you will be bound to her, forever. Once, that would have been a temptation. But I had grown up. “No, thanks,” I said. The coin was still in my hand. The ocean was fifty feet away. I arched my arm and threw it as far as I could. Time resumed. The pain of the impact was as searing as the lightning had been all those years ago. Unfortunately, I didn’t die instantly. In the flash of agony, I thought I saw my old friend Maya. The ambulance ride was a blur of siren wails and the suffocating smell of antiseptic. I heard her voice, desperate and sharp, talking to the other paramedics. “Patient is in cardiac arrest, starting chest compressions…” 4 Stella called my phone more than a dozen times. I was in surgery, so I couldn’t answer. After the first round of resuscitation, Maya found my phone buzzing on a gurney outside the OR. She answered the latest call. “It’s just a business arrangement, Liam, why can’t you accept that?” Stella’s voice was impatient, angry. “Ethan and I are tied together by our careers now. This isn’t like when we were kids anymore.” She paused, taking a ragged breath. “This isn’t a world where you can solve everything with your fists.” She still remembered me fighting the other kids who called her a bastard, the daughter of a homewrecker. She’d arrived at the home like a princess, a tiny, perfect doll in a frilly dress, stepping out of her billionaire father’s limousine. Then, one day, she was just one of us. Her father’s wife had found out about her, and her mother was dead. He’d dumped her in the system to keep her from threatening his legitimate daughter’s inheritance. Was her obsession with Ethan just a longing for the life that was stolen from her? Maya tried to tell her what was happening, but the light above the OR door flashed red again. “Dr. Chen!” a nurse yelled. “Patient’s unresponsive, exhibiting neurological signs, he’s crashing!” Maya dropped the phone and ran back inside. On the other end of the line, Stella heard only silence. “Liam? Why aren’t you saying anything?” She stared at the screen for a long moment, then sighed and hung up. Ethan glanced at her, a smirk on his face. “Giving you the silent treatment? You give a weed too much sunlight, it starts to think it’s a rose.” “He’s—” Stella hesitated. “He’s different.” “So, what do you want? Your career, or a normal life with him? Have you figured that out yet?” Ethan sneered. “Today he’s posting pity-bait about how I’m bullying him. Tomorrow he’ll leak that you’re sleeping with him. It’s the truth, but the public doesn’t care about the truth. To them, you’re just a liar.” Stella stared out the window, a headache blooming behind her eyes. The phone rang again. It was Maya, calling from my number. Stella answered immediately. “Liam, about before, I—” “The night you and Liam signed your marriage certificate,” Maya’s voice cut in, cold and precise. “What was the celestial event?” Stella froze, racking her brain. The voice was familiar. “Maya?” she asked, her own voice turning to ice. “Where’s Liam? Why do you have his phone? Where are you?” Stella had always hated Maya, always been terrified I would choose her instead. Maya ignored the jealous fit. “I’m asking you a question. The night you registered your marriage, what happened in the sky? Please, just answer the question.” “Are you insane, Maya? Why are you asking me that? Doesn’t Liam know? Who the hell do you think you are?” “STELLA!” Maya’s voice cracked with a fury Stella had never heard before. “He and I are just friends, you fucking paranoid bitch! What was the event in the sky?! We’re out of time!” The raw desperation in Maya’s voice stunned her into silence. The night they got their marriage license— I knew Stella wouldn’t be able to answer. That night, there was a solar eclipse. A sun in the night sky. But Stella was in London. Ethan had staged a suicide attempt to get her on a plane. When she came back, exhausted and stressed, she had no idea what she’d missed. I’d asked her, “Stella, did you see the sun last night?” She’d just rubbed her tired eyes. “It was raining in London,” she’d said. “Overcast.” An answer that was not an answer. I was talking about LA. She was talking about London. 5 In the final moments of the countdown, Maya wanted to fly across the world and strangle Stella. I was confused. The System had never given second chances before. Maybe it was new at this, not yet immune to human tragedy. It had given Maya the instructions. Call Stella. Ask the question. Thirty seconds. If she answers correctly, Liam lives. No hints. No other questions. Just this. Maya thought it was a sure thing. What woman wouldn’t remember the night she got married? Even she knew about the eclipse; it had been all over the news. But Stella wasn’t here. She wasn’t even looking at the same sky. “God damn you, Stella,” Maya whispered into the phone. “I hope you regret this for the rest of your life.” Time’s up, the System announced. Answer incorrect. The phone slipped from Maya’s hand. Through the window of the OR, she saw the head surgeon pull off his mask and shake his head. She heard the long, flat beep of the monitor, a sound that seemed to stretch into eternity. From the phone on the floor, Stella’s tinny voice asked, “Let me talk to Liam.” Maya started to laugh, tears splashing onto the sterile linoleum. “He’s dead,” she said, her voice hollow and calm.

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Six years after I cut off my parents, my adopted sister secretly reached out to my husband. She told him my parents missed me terribly and wanted nothing more than for our family to be whole again before it was too late. I traced the thin scar on my forehead. I got it when I was eight, the same day my sister slammed the piano lid on my fingers. My dad gave me the scar when I tried to hit her back. My husband, unable to bear the sight of my sister’s sad, pleading face, tried to reason with me. “Honey, that was so long ago. Just let it go.” My son, clutching a brand-new model airplane my parents had sent him, added his own ultimatum. “Mommy, I can’t live without my grandma and grandpa and Auntie Nora. You have to make up with them!” His little face was red with anger. “If you don’t, I don’t want you to be my mommy anymore!” A profound weariness washed over me. I gave a small, tired nod. “Okay.” 1 The moment I slid the divorce papers across the table, Mark’s face was a mask of disbelief. “You’re doing this? Just because I want you to reconcile with your parents?” “Yes,” I said. “Because of that.” “What about Leo? He’s only five. What’s supposed to happen to him?” Before I could answer, Leo charged at me like a little bull, ramming his head into my stomach. A sharp pain shot through me. “You’re evil, Mommy!” he shrieked. “Grandpa and Grandma didn’t raise you to be a monster!” I gritted my teeth against the pain, my voice cold. “Who taught you to talk like that?” Leo’s bravado wavered. He glanced nervously toward the hallway, where Nora was hiding just out of sight. She was the daughter of my dad’s army buddy, and we’d grown up together. “Oh, Sarah, it’s all my fault!” Nora stepped forward, her face a picture of innocence. “I was telling Leo the story of Snow White and the evil queen, and he must have picked up some of the bad words.” It was the same act she’d always pulled. The same damsel-in-distress routine that had caused me a lifetime of misery. And just like always, Mark and Leo rushed to her defense. “Sarah, you’re always so busy with work,” Mark said, his voice laced with disappointment. “You can’t blame Nora for helping take care of our son.” “I like Auntie Nora best!” Leo declared, sticking out his chin. “If you’re mean to her, I’m not gonna be your son anymore.” I hadn’t said a single word against her, but they were already leaping to her defense. I saw a flicker of triumph in Nora’s eyes, and the disgust and hatred I’d suppressed for years came boiling to the surface. 2 I was done talking. I pushed a pen toward Mark. “Sign it. Who you choose to be a son-in-law to is your business now.” His face fell. “Can you please stop being so dramatic? I just want our son to have more family in his life. They’re your own flesh and blood.” My head felt like it was going to explode. Flesh and blood. The day Nora came to live with us, my parents had said the same thing. “She’s only three months younger than you, Sarah. From now on, you have a sister. She’s your flesh and blood. You have to take care of her.” Back then, her name wasn’t Nora. My dad said her parents had died in a car crash, and that he was adopting her, giving her his name. She was so small, so fragile. I shared everything with her—my favorite books, the chocolates my dad brought home from his business trips, the new dresses my mom bought for me. “Can I really think of this as my home from now on?” Nora had asked, her eyes wide and innocent. I remembered my parents’ words and nodded. From that day on, my life became a living hell. She was always crying, always looking at me with a wounded expression. My parents assumed I was bullying her. They called me selfish and gave all my things to her. When I was six, my room became Nora’s room. My closet, filled with my dresses, became hers. When I was eight, the piano lessons I’d taken for four years were canceled. It was because Nora had “accidentally” slammed the lid on my fingers, breaking two of them. When I was twelve, my birthday party was canceled and turned into a celebration for Nora’s win at a dance competition. My cake was replaced with a mango-flavored one—her favorite. No one remembered that I was deathly allergic to mangoes. When I was eighteen, my parents refused to pay the entry fee for a prestigious math competition I’d qualified for. “We need to save that money to hire a better dance coach for Nora,” they’d said. When I was twenty-two, years of stress-induced malnutrition caught up with me. I had a severe stomach condition that required surgery. My parents refused to help, instead buying business-class tickets to Europe to accompany Nora to an international dance competition. I nearly collapsed on my way to the hospital. That’s when I met Mark. He was horrified by my story and swore he would protect me for the rest of my life. And now, six years later, he was the one pushing me back into their arms. 3 “I’m not signing this, Sarah,” Mark said, his jaw set. I ignored him and went to our bedroom to pack. In the back of the closet, hidden away, I found a stash of expensive gifts. A handcrafted tea set, a high-end massage chair for the elderly, a pair of designer ballet slippers. Mark rushed in, as if suddenly remembering. “What is this?” he asked, still clutching the divorce papers. He couldn’t meet my eyes. Leo ran in, holding his model airplane triumphantly. “Those are presents Daddy bought for Grandma and Grandpa and Auntie Nora!” he announced. “And that’s not all! But you don’t get anything ’cause you’re not a good girl, nya-nya-nya-nya-nya!” He stuck his tongue out, deliberately trying to provoke me. I took a slow step toward him. Nora immediately threw herself between us, shoving me hard. “Don’t you dare touch him! He’s their only grandchild. Even if you are his mother, you have no right to hit him.” That was it. I snapped. I grabbed her wrist and slapped her across the face, hard. “Aaaah, that hurts!” she shrieked, a theatrical, high-pitched wail. Leo immediately activated his smartwatch. “Mommy’s hitting Auntie Nora!” he yelled into the device. “Grandpa, Grandma, come quick and punish her!” He started to sob. “Mommy’s a psycho! I don’t want her to be my mommy anymore!” 4 I snatched the watch from his wrist. Of course. They had a group chat. Leo and his favorite people: Grandpa, Grandma, Daddy, and Auntie Nora. I was the only one left out. The chat history was a revelation. My son, who barely spoke to me about his day anymore, was telling them all about the new girl at his preschool. My husband, who was supposedly working late every night, was taking our son to “family dinners” several times a week. He’d used his bonus to pay for my parents’ annual checkups and to book Nora a two-week tour of Europe. Everyone in the group was so happy. My stern, unsmiling father was gushing about how his grandson was just like him, a great judge of character. My mother, always so easily swayed, was commenting on how handsome and capable Mark was, and what a shame it was that he hadn’t met Nora first. Nora, of course, was all coy sweetness, calling him “Marky” and filling the chat with blushing emojis. And Mark, my husband who hadn’t bought me a gift in years, was showering them all with praise and virtual red envelopes. “Honey, let me explain,” Mark stammered, insisting he’d only bought the gifts to pave the way for my reconciliation with them. “Nora isn’t as bad as you think. Why can’t you just try to get along with your parents?” Get along? I turned and slapped him, too. 5 Leo, seeing me strike his two favorite people, went berserk. He launched himself at me, kicking and punching. “Grandpa was right, you’re a devil! You broke your own fingers and blamed Auntie Nora! You deserve to have nobody love you!” he screamed. “Get out! Get out now! I don’t want you to be my mom! I like Auntie Nora better, and so does Grandpa and Grandma and Daddy!” I just stared at him, stunned. This was the child I had carried for nine months. I had pureed every spoonful of his baby food, bought every toy and book in this house, rocked him to sleep almost every night of his life. Five years of my heart and soul, and this is what I got in return. You deserve it. It hurt. More than I could say. “Leo,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “I’m going to give you one chance to take that back.” “No! I hate you! I don’t want you to be my mom!” he yelled. “I want Auntie Nora! She’s prettier than you, and she can dance, and she gives me candy! I like her more than you!” I was strict about candy, trying to protect his teeth. Mark jumped in. “He’s just a kid, Sarah. Don’t take it so seriously.” In his mind, a mother’s love was unconditional. In his mind, he was doing what was best for me by forcing this reconciliation. This divorce, this ugliness, it was all my fault. But I was done. 6 “Sarah, why are you still so stubborn?” For a second, I thought I was dreaming. It was my father’s voice. The front door opened, and they walked in. I’d forgotten they still had the code. Leo’s face lit up. “Grandpa! Grandma! You’re finally here to punish Mommy!” Seeing them all standing there together, a happy little family unit, a chill went through me that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. My mother started to speak, a hint of apology in her eyes. “Sarah, six years ago, I didn’t know you were that sick…” But then she saw Nora, clutching her red, swollen cheek, and her expression hardened. “Honey, who did this to you?” she asked, her voice turning sharp, like a lioness protecting her cub. My father roared, “Who else? It had to be Sarah! Mark, get her out of this house, now! If she’s not taught a lesson, what’s to stop her from hurting my precious grandson next?” Mark, looking like a chastised schoolboy, tugged on my sleeve. “Honey, hitting people is wrong. Why don’t you just apologize?” He knew I was packed and ready to leave, and he was still waiting for me to be the one to back down. 7 I met Nora’s triumphant gaze and gave a bitter laugh. “Is it any piece of garbage I have? Do you just have to have it for yourself?” Her eyes widened in fake panic. “Sarah, what are you talking about? I don’t understand.” Suddenly, a hand tangled in my hair, yanking my head back. “Sarah,” my father’s voice boomed in my ear, “I am ordering you to apologize. And don’t you dare threaten my good son-in-law with divorce. He works hard to support this family. If you want to leave, you can leave with nothing.” “Dad, this is between Sarah and me,” Mark said weakly. “Please don’t interfere.” “Hmph! If it wasn’t for her faking that illness back then, you never would have missed Nora’s performance,” my father sneered. “You two would probably be together by now.” I shot a sarcastic look at Mark. No wonder the photo he kept hidden in his desk—a picture of a ballerina’s silhouette on a stage—had always looked vaguely familiar. It was the girl who had captured his heart at first sight. He’d told me not to be jealous, that she didn’t even know he existed. The last flicker of feeling I had for him died. I signed the papers, grabbed my suitcase, and walked toward the door. Mark tried to stop me, but my parents held him back. Leo clung to his father’s leg. “Daddy, don’t listen to her! She’s just a housewife! She has nowhere to go without you! Grandma and Grandpa said she’ll come crawling back after a few days of being hungry!” While Mark hesitated, I walked out the door and didn’t look back.

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I’d been chasing Alex for eight years. On my ninety-ninth attempt at telling him how I felt, he finally said yes. The next day, he walked into a party with his arm around his new assistant and announced to everyone, “Surprise! Say hello to your new boss’s wife!” My friends shot me weird looks. They’d all seen me confess my feelings to him the day before. Before I could say anything, Alex let out a condescending laugh. “Oh, come on, Chloe. You didn’t actually think I was serious, did you? It was April Fools’ Day!” The assistant, a girl named Maya, feigned surprise. “Oh my god, Chloe, you actually believed him! That’s so sweet! But thank you for the flower. It’s really beautifully carved!” She held up a small, wooden rose. It was the first piece I’d ever successfully carved. Alex had begged me for it, and I’d finally given it to him. I’m not a patient person. The only two things I’d ever had endless patience for were my woodworking and Alex. But now, my patience had finally run out. 1 The entire room went silent. I ignored Maya and looked straight at Alex. “You think this is a joke, too?” He hadn’t expected me to be so serious. A flicker of guilt crossed his face before he covered it with a smirk. “Chloe, it was April Fools’. We all knew it was a joke.” “Yeah, Chloe! It was just a prank!” “Don’t be mad, Chloe. We didn’t think you’d actually take it seriously. Alex, you should have said something!” Our mutual friends, one by one, tried to smooth things over, but I could see the amusement in their eyes. The old me would have played along, laughed it off, and waited for the next opportunity to tell him how I felt. But the old me was gone. My patience was gone. “So, you all think this is a joke?” I asked, my voice cold. They shifted uncomfortably, avoiding my gaze. I walked over to Maya and looked at the wooden rose in her hand. I’d carved it when I was fifteen. It was my first real piece, and it meant the world to me. And now it was in her hands. Alex, still smirking, moved to shield his little protégée. I snatched the rose from her hand, snapped it in two, and threw the pieces on the floor. “What are you doing?! Alex gave that to me!” Maya shrieked. Alex’s brow furrowed, his voice sharp with anger. “Chloe!” I dusted the wood splinters from my hands. “It was mine to begin with,” I said calmly. “I can do whatever I want with it.” Alex scoffed. “Chloe, I threw this party to introduce Maya to everyone. Are you really going to ruin the whole night? If you don’t want to be here, then get out. Or, you can apologize to Maya, and I’ll let you stay.” In the eight years I’d been chasing him, I’d never once ruined his mood. Even when he’d hurt my feelings, I’d always waited to talk to him about it later. Before Maya, he would have gently stroked my hair and said, “I’m sorry, Chloe,” and made it all better. I gave him one last, long look and walked out of the room. The moment the door closed behind me, I heard her start to cry. “Alex, did I do something to upset her? She broke the present you gave me!” His voice was soft, comforting. “Shh, don’t cry. I’ll make her carve you another one.” Our friends chimed in. “Don’t worry, Maya! Chloe will do anything Alex says. You can have as many as you want!” “Yeah, don’t cry! Alex is rich! He’ll buy you something even better!” The voices faded as I walked away. The cold night air hit my face, and I let out a small, bitter laugh. Alex, my patience for you is officially at zero. 2 That night, I saw Alex’s Instagram post. It was a picture of Maya, smiling radiantly, holding a bouquet of red roses. In the background, Alex was looking down at her, his expression full of a tenderness he’d never shown me. I opened his contact, tapped the three dots in the corner, and blocked and deleted him without a second thought. The next morning, I was getting ready to open my small woodworking shop when Alex appeared, looking furious, holding a box from my favorite bakery. I didn’t even glance at him, turning back to my workbench to organize my carving knives. “I brought you a cupcake,” he said. It was his peace offering, the way we always made up. This time, I wasn’t accepting. He slammed the box down on the counter. “Chloe, what’s your problem?!” “Nothing,” I said, not looking up. “Are you still mad about yesterday? You blocked me. And deleted my number. Add me back. And look, I know you like me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find love with someone else, right?” I finally looked at him, trying to suppress the nausea rising in my throat. “Do whatever you want. I don’t care.” He wasn’t expecting that. Then he saw the half-finished carving on my workbench and smirked. “You don’t like me anymore?” he asked, a teasing tone in his voice. “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t.” He picked up the carving. It was a small, intricate snake. “Then what’s this?” He chuckled. “Chloe, you don’t have to do this to get my attention. I’ve known you for eight years. I know what you’re like. This is for me, isn’t it? Every year for my birthday, you carve me some stupid piece of wood. Don’t you ever get tired of it? It’s so boring. Since you love carving so much, carve another rose for Maya, exactly like the old one. And apologize to her.” “Why should I apologize to her?!” I asked, incredulous. “Because you made her cry.” A familiar ache spread through my chest. I’d loved him for eight years, chased him for eight years. Every time I confessed my feelings, he would show up, listen patiently, and then gently let me down. “Chloe, we’re too young.” “Chloe, let’s wait until college.” Then Maya came along. “Chloe, it’s Maya’s birthday today. Can we do this another time?” “Chloe, is your little confession really more important than Maya being sick? How can you be so selfish?” “Alex,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “That rose was mine. You know what it meant to me.” He looked at me, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. Just as he was about to say something, his phone rang. The ringtone was a recording of Maya’s voice, sweet and cloying. “Alex, I miss you! Come see me, okay?” He murmured a few soothing words to her and hung up. “I have to go,” he said. At the door, he turned back. “My mom wants you to come to my birthday party next month. I’ll pick you up. If you don’t come, she’ll kill me.” And then he was gone. We’d grown up together. After my parents moved away for business, his family had taken me in. He’d taken care of me, remembered everything from my favorite food to my period schedule. But he didn’t know that I’d stopped liking cupcakes years ago. I’d never missed his birthday. Every year, I would carve him a good luck charm. He used to wear them proudly. But since Maya became his assistant, he hadn’t worn a single one. I picked up my phone and made a call. “Master,” I said, “I’ve made up my mind.” “Well, well, the stubborn mule finally sees the light! What happened? Did you finally win over that boy?” “No…” “Ah, so he rejected you! I told you so! Hmph…” I listened to the old man’s grumpy but secretly pleased tone and felt a sense of relief. I had turned down my master’s offer to study with him time and time again, all for Alex. I had no reason to refuse him now. “You probably won’t be coming back here,” he said. “Say a proper goodbye to everyone.” “I will,” I said. 3 I finished carving the little wooden snake. Alex’s birthday arrived quickly. As promised, he came to pick me up. When I opened the car door, Maya was in the passenger seat. “From now on, Chloe,” she said with a smug smile, “you’ll be sitting in the back.” I didn’t say a word, just got in. Alex looked at me in surprise. The old me would have put up a fight, would have used our shared history to claim my rightful spot. But what was the point of fighting his girlfriend for a seat in a car? On the way, Maya chattered on, asking about Alex’s parents’ likes and dislikes. I put in my headphones, but she tapped me on the shoulder. “Chloe, you and Alex grew up together! You must know his parents so well! It’s my first time meeting them, I’m so nervous!” Through the rearview mirror, I saw the challenge in her eyes. “You don’t need to ask her,” Alex said, glancing at me. “She’s always too busy carving her stupid pieces of wood to pay attention to anything else.” I closed my eyes, feigning sleep. It was true, his parents adored me. We’d always argued about them. But this time, it was a farewell visit. There was no point in arguing. He frowned but didn’t say anything else. 4 When we arrived, Alex’s parents greeted me with warm hugs. “Chloe! It’s been too long! Have you forgotten all about us?” I smiled and made my excuses. The house was full of people, many of whom I knew. I found a quiet corner and tried to figure out the best time to slip away. “So, what if you’re his childhood friend?” Maya appeared in front of me, her arms crossed. “He’s mine now. You know, I actually kind of enjoy watching you grovel.” I stood up to leave, but something caught my eye. A small wooden charm hanging around her neck. My hand clenched into a fist. “Where did you get that?” She smiled sweetly. “Alex gave it to me, of course. I was sick, and he was so worried. He said he had this charm blessed for me.” My throat closed up. On his seventeenth birthday, Alex had been seriously ill. I’d stayed up all night carving a good luck charm for him, then walked miles to a temple to have it blessed. The next day, his fever broke. He’d cried when he found out what I’d done and promised that he would always protect me. And now, that precious charm was around her neck. “Give it to me,” I said, my voice loud enough to attract attention. Her eyes filled with tears. “But Alex gave it to me! You can’t just take it because you’re jealous, Chloe.” Whispers erupted around us. “Doesn’t she know he has a girlfriend? Why is she still clinging to him?” “She’s shameless. You should have seen her fawning all over him before.” “I heard she’s leaving, going to study woodworking or something.” “You actually believe that? She’s obsessed with him. She’s just trying to make him feel guilty.” Alex pushed through the crowd. He instinctively moved to protect Maya. “What’s wrong now?” he asked, his voice full of impatience. My hand trembled as I pointed at the charm. “Why did you give that to her?” He glanced at it. “Chloe, it’s just a piece of wood. What’s the big deal?” What’s the big deal? I couldn’t believe he would say that. I took a deep breath. “Happy birthday, Alex.” I handed him the small wooden snake and walked away. “Chloe! If you walk out that door, don’t ever come back!” he yelled after me. He looked down at the snake in his hand, turning it over and over. A look of panic crossed his face when he realized that, for the first time, I hadn’t carved his initials into it. He started to follow me, but Maya grabbed his arm. “Alex, it’s your birthday. I don’t want you to be upset. I’ll give the charm back to her.” He looked at the crowd of onlookers, then back at Maya’s tear-streaked face. “It’s fine,” he said, his voice softening. “Forget about her.” I went back to my workshop. The little space Alex and I had decorated together. I packed my things, throwing the carving knives he’d bought me into the trash. The rough, unfinished pieces we’d carved together, I threw them out, too. My phone rang. “Little one,” my master’s voice crackled, “I’ve sent your senior brother to pick you up.” There was a knock at the door. A handsome, scholarly-looking man stood there. “Chloe,” he said with a warm smile. “Master sent me.” “Okay, senior brother,” I said. 5 “Can we make a stop at my old house?” I asked as we drove. “There’s something I need to get.” He nodded. As we pulled up, I could hear the sounds of Alex’s party from next door. “It’s that punk’s birthday?” he asked. “Yeah.” I went straight to my old bedroom. On the very top of the closet, there was a small cloth bag. The carving knives my master had given me when I first became his apprentice. On my seventeenth birthday, Alex had given me a custom-made set, engraved with our initials. “From now on,” he’d said, “you can only use the knives I give you. You’re going to be the greatest woodcarver in the world.” He’d put my master’s knives up on the closet shelf, where I couldn’t reach them. “This way,” he’d said, “everything you create will be connected to me.” I stood on a chair, but I still couldn’t reach them. “Senior brother,” I said, a little embarrassed, “can you help me get that little bag down?” “You still haven’t grown an inch,” he teased, lifting me off the chair. Suddenly, an angry voice roared from the doorway. “Chloe! What do you think you’re doing?!”

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For six years, I was basically an NPC—a background character in someone else’s spicy romance novel. Then I married the male leads’ father. I thought I’d finally cashed in my ticket to the quiet life of a wealthy housewife. But on my wedding night, I had a dream that my new husband, Harrison Cole, was just another one of the heroine’s conquests. I woke up in a cold sweat. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks—of course, it was too good to be true. I’d been a nobody for six years, just drifting through life. The one time I stumble upon a handsome, successful CEO, did I really think he was meant for *me*? I was delusional, thinking I was getting my happily-ever-after. The truth, as the dream so kindly revealed, was that Harrison only married me out of spite. The story’s heroine, Elara, had laughed in his face, telling him he was too old to be chasing after a young, beautiful girl like her. So, he married me—a woman who was inferior to Elara in every conceivable way—just to prove a point. To show her he was over it. But you can’t fight fate, especially not in a romance novel. Harrison was one of the main love interests, and his destiny was tangled up with hers. In the end, I was just collateral damage in their grand, dramatic love story. The one silver lining? Even though we were technically married, I hadn’t taken his virginity. Or, you know, whatever the equivalent is for a man his age. That was reserved for the heroine. It wasn’t something a side character like me could even dream of touching. My eyes fluttered open and met a pair of dark, intense ones staring back at me. The master bedroom, done up in a modern, minimalist style, felt huge. Harrison, fresh from a shower, loomed over me. The scent of sandalwood clung to him as he tilted my chin up. “You look pale. Everything okay?” I went rigid as a board. “I, uh… have a killer headache,” I stammered, feeling like a deer in headlights. “Maybe we could… try again some other time?” He paused for a beat, his expression unreadable. Then, he loosened the belt of his robe, slid into bed beside me, and pulled up the covers. I held my breath, afraid to move a muscle. But Harrison kept his distance, leaving enough space between us for another person. You’d think I’d be up all night, but the sheer stress of it all knocked me out cold. * From the next day on, I made it my mission to play matchmaker. I’d avoid Harrison as much as possible, but I always kept tabs on Elara’s whereabouts. “Oh, I heard Elara is at the gallery downtown this afternoon,” I’d say casually. And just like that, Harrison would find a reason to leave the house, disappearing for hours. As for my three new stepsons, they were, of course, completely obsessed with her. I’d met them a few times before the wedding, but now, they were never around. Which was a relief, honestly. In my dream, those three were each crazier than the last. Compared to them, Harrison seemed like the most normal guy on the planet. Technically, he wasn’t even their real dad. He was their late father’s younger brother, only about ten years older than the boys themselves. After his brother and sister-in-law died in an accident, Harrison, still single, took them in and raised them. I guess it makes sense. The heroine of a story like this deserves only the best, most complicated backstories for her men. Not my circus, not my monkeys. My job was to be what I’ve been for the past six years: invisible. I’d wait for Harrison and Elara to finally get together, sign the divorce papers, take my settlement, and make a clean getaway. Thinking about it that way, life didn’t seem so bleak. A background character should never get involved with the main cast. The good news was, the plot was moving along right on schedule. As the “grand finale” from my dream got closer, the knot in my stomach slowly started to unwind. The massive mansion was usually empty, my only company being the housekeeper and the staff, who’d give me these pitying, “you-could-do-better” looks. I couldn’t care less. Harrison’s monthly allowance hit my bank account like clockwork. Life was peaceful until the night of Elara’s twenty-second birthday. I was scrolling through my phone when I saw a post from my youngest stepson, Leo—the only one I had on social media. It was a picture of Elara, radiant and beautiful, standing in the middle of a crowd in front of a giant birthday cake. The entire Cole family was there. And that’s when it hit me. My wedding anniversary was Elara’s birthday. I didn’t know how to feel. On one hand, without Harrison, I never would have worn seven-figure jewelry or lived in this kind of luxury. But on the other… this wasn’t my life. I was made for the sidelines. Getting this close to the main characters, you’re bound to get blinded by the light. I’d saved up a decent amount of my own money. As I was quietly packing a suitcase in my room, ready to make my escape, an unexpected visitor barged in. I instinctively kicked the suitcase under the bed, my eyes landing on a stunningly handsome face. “Leo?” I asked, confused. He flashed a bright, boyish smile and walked toward me, backing me into a corner. His long fingers rested on my shoulders, his voice a low, mournful whisper. “Stepmom, what am I supposed to do? I can’t win against them.” I stared at him, my mind racing. It took me only a second to understand what he meant. He let out a soft sigh. “My two older brothers are bad enough. Now you’ve pushed old man Harrison back into her orbit. What chance do I have?” My back was pressed against the cold wall. I looked into his smiling, amber-colored eyes and felt a chill crawl up my spine. My voice trembled. “Well, maybe you should take a moment to reflect on… your own lack of charm?” I swear, I meant to say it nicely. But us background characters, we’re not exactly known for our high EQ. He didn’t seem offended. In fact, his smile widened. He leaned in closer, his voice a seductive murmur. “Really?” Okay, I was starting to lose my cool. What was this? Was he trying to prove his charm? Test my self-control? Listen, we side characters never get to have any fun. We just watch from the cheap seats as the main cast lives out their epic love sagas. Harrison ignoring me was one thing, but was I really about to get pushed around by my own stepson? Something inside me snapped. I looped my arms around his neck, my voice dropping to a purr. “That’s right. You’re not nearly as charming as your uncle.” His lips curved. “Is that so? Then why do you look like you’re about to kiss me?” “You’re imagining things,” I said, my smile feeling tight. The boyish charm was gone, replaced by something sharper. He tilted my chin up. “Tell you what. Why don’t we just… settle? After all, no one’s competing with me for *you*.” “Excuse me?” I said through gritted teeth. He ignored me, his fingers toying with a strand of my hair. “Who else would you settle for? My brothers? I doubt they even know your name. Or Harrison? Please. The man’s seen it all. You think he actually cares about you? You’re just a little trinket he brought home.” Leo’s smile was angelic, but his words were poison. “Aren’t I your best option, Stepmom?” “You’re insane,” I hissed. Was anyone in this godforsaken novel normal? He just raised an eyebrow, his arm snaking around my waist, pulling me flush against him. “Let’s make a bet, then.” My eyes widened as his lips gently brushed against the corner of my mouth. Time seemed to stop. The only sound was the heavy, approaching footsteps from down the hall. The world snapped back into focus when Leo was violently shoved away from me. I looked up and met Harrison’s furious, dark eyes. Leo, however, just grinned. “Don’t look at us like that. The mood was right. We just got carried away.” “She’s young, she doesn’t know better,” Harrison said, his voice dangerously low, his glare fixed on Leo. “What’s *your* excuse for seducing her?” * I sat ramrod straight on the living room sofa, the silence thick enough to cut with a knife. The tension finally broke when the front door swung open and a slender girl in a short skirt breezed in. It was Elara. Harrison’s brow furrowed. “What are you doing here so late?” She flashed a dazzling smile. “Julian told me I should just crash here tonight. What, did you think I came to see you, *Uncle* Harrison?” She drew out the last two words, dripping with playful provocation. A moment later, a tall figure appeared behind her. It was Julian, the oldest brother, casually tossing a set of car keys in his hand. He scanned the room, a look of amusement on his face. “What’s all this, then? Family meeting?” The instigator of the whole mess, Leo, was slumped on the armchair, looking bored. I had no idea what to say, so I kept my mouth shut. To my surprise, Elara marched right up to me, her arms crossed. “Auntie,” she began, though it sounded more like an accusation, “you look awful. Did you do something to upset Uncle Harrison and Leo?” I blinked. How was I supposed to answer that? *Oh, you know, your boy-toy Leo just kissed me, and his uncle caught us.* When I didn’t answer, she raised an eyebrow and turned to Harrison. “If she made you angry, why don’t you just lock her in the basement?” The room went dead silent. Elara laughed, a strange edge to her voice. “Julian and Leo have both been in the ‘time-out room.’ What makes her so special?” So that’s what that creepy, hidden door in the cellar led to. A punishment room. “That’s enough, Elara,” Harrison said, his voice dropping a few degrees. Her eyes immediately filled with tears. “Was I wrong? Are you really yelling at me… for *her*?” I finally looked up, my gaze locking with Julian’s. He was leaning against the doorway, looking entirely unbothered, and gave me a slight, lazy tilt of his head. “So,” he drawled, “what did you do?” I took a deep breath and let out a cold, sharp laugh. “I kissed your brother.” The silence that followed was even heavier than before. Elara’s jaw dropped. “What?! You’re his stepmother! Have you no shame?” she shrieked. Julian’s eyes narrowed slightly, turning to Leo. “That true?” Leo, who clearly hadn’t expected me to just announce it, blinked once before shrugging with a disarmingly innocent smile. “Yep.” “Enough,” Harrison growled. He strode over, hooked an arm under my legs, and threw me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, heading for the stairs. Elara stubbornly blocked his path. “Harrison, you tell me right now! She did that, and you’re not going to punish her?” “Punish her?” he repeated, his patience clearly wearing thin. He shot a look over his shoulder. “Julian. You brought her here, you deal with her.” Julian smirked. “Elara, you heard the man. Father thinks you’re being a nuisance.” She stomped her foot, her face red with anger, and stormed out of the house. Julian, however, just stayed put, thoughtfully spinning his keys. Harrison stopped, his voice like ice. “Go after her.” Julian raised an eyebrow. “She didn’t run off because of me. Why should I be the one to comfort her?” The implication was crystal clear. I, still slung over Harrison’s shoulder, looked pleadingly at Leo. *He’s not going, so you go!* I mouthed silently. I thought he said he couldn’t compete? Here was his golden opportunity! But the kid didn’t move a muscle. In fact, he just sank deeper into the sofa, looking even lazier than before. Did he not understand? Harrison’s jaw tightened. Seeing that neither of his nephews was going to move, he set me down on my feet, giving my lower back a firm pat. “Go to your room,” he said calmly. “Where are you going?” I asked. He was already rolling up his sleeves. “Elara’s out there alone, and she’s upset. I’m going to make sure she’s okay.” “And what is she to you that you have to be the one to look after her?” The question slipped out before I could stop it. Harrison’s dark eyes swept over me for a second before he turned and walked out the door, his footsteps heavy. He never answered my question. “Get some sleep,” was all he said. I stared at his retreating back. I shouldn’t have asked. This was exactly what I wanted, wasn’t it? Everything was going according to the script. Harrison was one of Elara’s men. It was only natural for him to worry about the proud, impulsive young girl. Still. If Julian, or Leo, or even both of them had chased after her, I wouldn’t have felt this… pang. I guess seeing your own husband run off to care for another girl stings, no matter the circumstances. After all, when Harrison proposed, for a fleeting moment, I actually thought there might be something real between us. * The quiet settled in again. “So, you two really kissed?” Julian asked, his voice casual. Leo struck the same pose as before, an innocent curve to his lips. “Couldn’t help it. A crime of passion.” I glanced at them both, smoothed the wrinkles from my dress, and started walking upstairs. “Couldn’t get Elara, so you moved on to an easier target?” Julian’s voice, sharp and cold, followed me. Leo didn’t confirm or deny. I shut my bedroom door, blocking out the world. My mind drifted. Harrison’s brother and his wife had died young, leaving behind three sons. The two oldest had taken their mother’s last name, the youngest had their father’s. Each one was completely different, and their relationships with each other, and with Harrison, were distant at best. Whatever. It was a romance novel. Everything was designed to serve the heroine. I don’t know how much time passed before my phone buzzed with a message from an unknown number. It was a picture. A handsome, serious man in a tailored suit, kneeling to tie a young woman’s shoelace. Then the texts started. 【You’re such a slut. Marrying him isn’t enough, you have to seduce Leo too?】 【You’ve got it all wrong. The old man is mine. And so is Leo. Don’t you dare take advantage of Leo’s innocence to trick and play with him.】 【I’m going to expose you for who you really are!】 I shut off my phone, my face a mask of indifference. Could someone please tell me why *her* precious, innocent Leo was currently climbing into *my* bed? The boy yawned and started to pull back the covers like he owned the place. I shot up, blocking him. “What do you think you’re doing?” Leo just blinked at me. “It’s raining.” “And?” “And there’s thunder,” he whispered. “I’m scared.” As if on cue, a loud clap of thunder rattled the windows. He looked up at me with big, pathetic puppy-dog eyes. I scoffed. “It’s raining, and you’re not with Elara? What are you doing here?” He smiled and snuggled closer. “They don’t need me over there.” “I don’t need you here, either,” I said, my own smile just as fake. He paused, his fingertips gently tracing the corner of my eye. “Then why does it look like you’ve been crying?” I slapped his hand away. “Leo, listen to me. Harrison and I are getting a divorce soon. You don’t need to use me to get a rise out of him.” He stared at me for a long moment. I hooked a finger under his chin. “You’re a very pretty boy, I’ll give you that. But you’re not pretty enough to make me lose my mind.” He caught my hand and brought it to his lips, his voice a cool, clear whisper. “You don’t have to lose your mind. You just have to enjoy it.” His eyes were shimmering. He leaned over me, propping himself up on his arms, caging me in. His perfectly sculpted face was inches from mine, a pout on his lips. Honestly? A delicacy like this, practically served on a silver platter… it was hard not to be tempted. But I’d resisted Harrison for this long. If I turned around and slept with his nephew, what would that make me? All my hard work would be for nothing. But then I looked at Leo’s face again, my thumb tracing his soft lips. Fine. Harrison was out playing hero to Elara. The two main characters weren’t here. Just a little taste… what could it hurt? After all, having a nineteen-year-old as your first kiss… it kind of made me feel young again. Leo let me tilt his chin up, let me clumsily press my lips to his. He smelled like fresh rain, innocent and non-threatening. I climbed onto his lap, just as the bedroom door swung open.

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At my boyfriend’s birthday party, his best friend suggested a game: blindfolded, he had to guess which girl was his girlfriend just by touching her hand. His childhood friend, Chloe, squeezed through the crowd and held out her hand with a mischievous grin. “Don’t mess around, kid,” he laughed, pushing her away. “Your hands get all dry and flaky in the winter. No way you’re my girlfriend.” He walked over to another girl, took her hand, and declared, “My girlfriend’s hands smell amazing.” The room erupted in laughter. They jeered at him for not even recognizing his own girlfriend. I was pushed to the side, watching as he tried to defend himself, his face flushed. He even grabbed Chloe, who was laughing the loudest, and pulled her into a headlock. “Tell them, you little punk! Did I recognize you or not?” Suddenly, the whole thing just felt… pointless. I turned and walked out of the room. 1. Asher’s family was ridiculously wealthy. I almost got lost trying to find my way out of the home theater. By the time I made it to the living room, Chloe was there, directing the staff on what fruit platters to prepare and which wines to bring up from the cellar. She was completely at ease, chatting and joking with them like she was the lady of the house. She saw me. Her eyes flickered over me for a second before she looked away, pretending to be busy. Right. When Asher was around, she was a completely different person, all sweet and calling me “Lily-sis” like she was my adoring little sister. I’d fought with Asher about her a few times. Their easy, natural chemistry made me feel like an outsider. The first time I tried to break up with him, he smashed his phone in a fit of rage and swore he’d never be the one to come crawling back. A day later, he was standing under my apartment window, his eyes red-rimmed, begging me not to leave him. His voice, a deep, magnetic baritone, cracked with emotion. It was impossible not to feel my resolve crumble. He explained that he and Chloe had been friends since they were kids. They were practically family. Her family had recently gone bankrupt, and his mom had specifically asked him to look out for her. He saw her as a little sister, nothing more. “If you’re really, really uncomfortable with it, I’ll delete her number,” he’d said, his voice pleading. “Baby, you’re the only one that matters to me.” And right there, in front of me, he blocked her on everything. I couldn’t stay mad at him. I gave in. A few days later, Chloe was kneeling outside my apartment building in the pouring rain. I don’t know how long she’d been there, but I only found out when Asher showed up. “Baby, don’t you think this is a little much?” he’d asked, holding his umbrella over her head, getting soaked himself. “Go home, kid,” he’d said to her gently. “Don’t make a scene. What if you get sick? I’ll have to answer to your mom…” 2. He sighed, but he didn’t unblock her. Chloe just kept crying, her shoulders shaking, drawing the attention of my nosy neighbors. “Lily-sis, I swear on my life, I only see him as a brother,” she’d sobbed. “I’ve never crossed any lines. Please don’t make him do this to me. My mom thinks I did something to hurt him, and she cries all the time…” “My family is broke, Lily-sis. My life is already so hard. Are you trying to push me over the edge?” “Don’t I deserve to have friends? I was happy for you two! What did I do to deserve this?” Her words, choked with tears, echoed in my ears. I tried to pinpoint why she bothered me so much. It was the way she so effortlessly inserted herself between us. If Asher and I were sharing a drink, she’d squeeze in and tease him. She’d rummage through his bag, bring up inside jokes from their childhood that I couldn’t understand, and make me feel completely left out. Whenever he brought me to his parents’ house, she’d “coincidentally” drop by and act all chummy with his mom. So, was it my fault? Was I being too sensitive? I stood there in the rain, holding my own umbrella, silent. 3. After a while, my mom came down and brought us all inside. She gave Chloe a change of clothes. “My daughter can be a little stubborn,” she’d said, looking from me to Asher. “If you two are making her feel uncomfortable, then there’s a problem. Don’t push her, Asher. Until you figure this out, you and Lily should just break up.” “No!” Asher’s eyes were red as he immediately rejected the idea. My mom pulled me aside. She looked at me and sighed. “Honey, I don’t think blocking her is the answer. It’s just a temporary fix. Why don’t you give it another chance, see how things go? Or, if it’s too much, just end it now.” I was torn. In the end, when I walked back into the living room, Asher looked like he was about to fall apart. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t break up with him. So I compromised. They went back to how they were before, except now, Chloe made a conscious effort to keep her distance when I was around. What they did when I wasn’t there, I didn’t want to know. But tonight’s little party game was a stark reminder. The bond between childhood friends, even if you try to sever it, just comes back stronger. Whatever. I didn’t care anymore. My mom had seen it from the beginning. It was my own fault for dragging it out. I should have ended it the first time. As I was leaving, Chloe was humming a cheerful tune as she went upstairs, like a victorious general. A little while later, my phone rang. It was Asher, sounding a little drunk. I thought I’d be angry, or hurt, or that I’d cry. But looking at his name on the screen, I just felt… calm. “Baby, where are you? Are you mad at me? I’m so sorry. I didn’t know Joe’s girlfriend used your hand cream. I just guessed wrong. You can punish me, okay?” He was drunk, and his voice had that playful, pleading tone he knew I couldn’t resist. “We should break up…” 4. Before I could finish, Chloe’s voice cut in. “Seriously, Asher, are you hiding in the bathroom? You’re the birthday boy, what are you doing out here? Everyone’s waiting for you to cut the cake.” “Don’t mess around, kid, I’m on the phone.” “Don’t ‘kid’ me. Stop hiding. Joe and his girlfriend are fighting because of you. You need to go fix it.” I heard the rustle of clothes, the sound of a scuffle. He was probably laughing as she playfully hit him. “You wanna die, kid?” he said, still laughing. “Yes, yes, I do,” she retorted. “Now get in there. Joe’s girlfriend is crying.” He brought the phone back to his ear, his voice clearer now, the drunken slur gone. “Baby, what did you just say? Never mind, just come back inside. We’re cutting the cake.” He hung up. He and his childhood friend went back to the party. I rolled down the car window, the night air feeling cool against my skin. The call had ended a while ago, but I kept turning my phone screen on and off. My wallpaper was a picture of us. His profile was ridiculously handsome, and he was sneaking a kiss on my cheek, looking at the camera like he was showing me off to the world. After a long moment, I changed the wallpaper to a picture of a cat I had saved a while ago. It was a beautiful, lazy-looking cat, one paw raised in a beckoning gesture. Its eyes were so serene, so detached. I was actually chuckling at the picture when I got a text from one of Asher’s friends. 5. Asher’s Friend: *Lily, your boyfriend just got into a fight with Joe. Where are you? Can you come back and explain? It’s getting really awkward here.* I wasn’t going to reply, but then I remembered my hand cream. It was a special blend my grandmother made for me, with rare ingredients. You couldn’t buy it anywhere. I had our driver, Mr. Wilson, take me back. When I walked in, the room was a mess. Broken glass littered the floor. A lot of people had left, but a few familiar faces remained. Joe’s girlfriend was sobbing in a corner, with Chloe comforting her, handing her tissues and draping a jacket over her shoulders. Asher was sitting with one foot propped up on a stool. He glanced up when I came in, looking annoyed, then looked away. He looked like he wanted to say something but was holding himself back. He’d always been the pampered golden boy. This was probably the first time he’d ever had a real fight with a friend. Joe was being held back by a couple of guys. He was drunk and angry. Normally, he was Asher’s biggest hype man. He would never have laid a hand on him. I remembered he was the one who had suggested the guessing game in the first place, and the one who had cheered the loudest. “Lily, you’re here,” the friend who had texted me said. “You’re Asher’s girlfriend. Can you say something?” 6. He gave me a look, trying to get me to smooth things over. I smiled faintly. “Excuse me,” I said, looking at Joe’s girlfriend. “Where is my hand cream?” She stared at me, stunned. “Lily-sis,” Chloe cut in. “I don’t think that’s the most important thing right now.” I shot her a look. “You’re not going to tell me? Fine. I’ll just call the police and have them check the security footage. You probably don’t know this, but the ingredients in that little bottle of hand cream cost over five hundred dollars. That’s enough to press charges.” “So, you can either give it to me now, and we can pretend I just ‘misplaced’ it, or we can call the police and let them find it. Your choice.” Joe’s girlfriend immediately stopped crying. She pulled my hand cream out of her purse. “Is this it? I’m so sorry.” I took it, checked it, and put it in my bag. Asher’s friend tried to play peacemaker. “See? It was all a misunderstanding! Your girlfriend just accidentally used Lily’s hand cream, that’s why Asher guessed wrong. You know Asher, he’d never mistake anyone for his girl! He loves her more than anything!” “Yeah, yeah, he even recognized Chloe, there’s no way he wouldn’t recognize his own girlfriend! It was just a mix-up!” another friend chimed in. Joe’s girlfriend looked at Joe, then at Chloe. “Chloe gave me this hand cream,” she said quietly. “She said if I liked it, I could have it. I didn’t think anything of it, but now… maybe I should have.” Chloe laughed. “Don’t make it so complicated. I thought it was Asher’s, and you liked it, so I gave it to you. It’s just a bottle of hand cream, Asher wouldn’t mind, right? Don’t be so dramatic…” She looked so innocent, so helpless. Joe, enraged, slapped his girlfriend across the face. “Did I say you could take it?! Are you that pathetic? And now you’re blaming Chloe for your own mistake?” Chloe gasped and rushed to pull Joe away. 7. The room descended into chaos again as everyone tried to pull them apart. But they were all comforting Joe’s girlfriend, telling her he was just drunk. “I’m so sorry, Stacey,” Chloe was saying, holding Joe back while trying to calm her down. “He’s just had too much to drink. Tomorrow, he’ll be on his knees, begging for your forgiveness.” She even threw a glass of water in Joe’s face to get him to calm down. And he did. Stacey just stood there, her hand on her cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief. This time, she wasn’t crying. I was already at the door, but I couldn’t just leave. I walked back and stood in front of her. “Do you want to hit him back, or do you want me to call the police?” I said. “I’m here. I’ll help you.” She hadn’t been crying, but at my words, tears started streaming down her face. “Lily-sis, don’t you think calling the police is a bit much?” one of the guys said. “We’re all friends here. Joe didn’t mean it. If you let her hit him back, I promise he won’t fight back.” I had been bottling up my anger for so long. My hand was itching. So, while he was still talking, I slapped him. SLAP! The room went completely silent.

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My sorority sister, a freshman pledge, posted a half-naked selfie in the new member group chat and tagged my boyfriend: Her: *Oops, my hand slipped! The wifi is so slow, I can’t delete it!* Her: *Asher, no peeking.* 😉 Her: *That goes for the rest of you boys, too! Hmph!* Someone pointed out that I was also in the chat. She then adopted a sickeningly sweet, baby-talk voice to apologize. I was about to brush it off, but then I saw Asher’s lazy reply: Asher: *Too late, I already looked. Your fault for having slow wifi.* 1. My fingers froze over the keyboard. The word “whatever” I had been about to type suddenly seemed glaringly out of place. The freshman, Chloe, immediately tagged me. Chloe: *Ugh, he’s such a creep! Big sis, can you do something about this pervert? He’s totally taking advantage of my slow internet!* Asher sent a cute, “my bad” emoji. One I’d never seen him use before. I stared at the screen for a moment, then a slow smile spread across my face. I deleted “whatever” and typed a new message. Me: *Have you tried the campus wifi card? Super fast, you can post and delete in a flash. Perfect for all your… accidental slips. Xoxo.* The chat went silent for a beat. Then, Asher was the first to reply. Asher: *?* Asher: *Lily, Chloe was just joking. Do you have to be like that?* One of the frat boys chimed in. Frat Boy 1: *Yeah, Lily, she was just trying to liven things up. No big deal.* Frat Boy 2: *I, for one, support Chloe’s right to accidentally post selfies. What else are we supposed to look at?* Frat Boy 3: *Preach.* It was a domino effect. One after another, the guys in the chat jumped to her defense. It wasn’t surprising. Chloe was the only girl in the new pledge class who was a total pick-me. The first thing she did when she joined the chat was post a “get to know me” video of herself in a fluffy, long-sleeved bunny pajama set. Asher and I, as the heads of the new member committee, had both seen it. At the time, he’d complained to me, “It’s the middle of August. Isn’t she hot in that? Does she really think that’s cute?” I thought he couldn’t stand her. But now, it was a different story. Me: *If you want to sell your body, take it to the street. If you want to watch porn, there are websites for that. This is a new member chat.* The moment I sent the message, the chat went dead. A second later, a notification popped up on my screen: *You have been removed from the group chat.* The admin who did it? Asher. 2. My hand tightened around my phone. I immediately blocked and deleted his number. Not five minutes later, my phone rang. “Come downstairs.” We had been going door-to-door all day, promoting the new member drive. A minute before he’d gone back to his dorm, he’d been complaining, “I hate recruitment. It’s such a pain.” And now he was all cozy with Chloe. I swallowed my anger and went downstairs. He was holding a piece of cake. “Still mad?” he asked, his voice soft and teasing. “I’m sorry, okay, Your Highness?” This was his M.O. When he was trying to placate me, he was always the first to apologize. I didn’t take the cake. I just looked at him. The cool, early autumn breeze ruffled his hair. He had a fond, indulgent smile on his face, his eyes soft and sincere. It was a look that could melt any girl’s heart. But I just frowned. I’d only seen him look like that once before, four years ago, on the night I agreed to be his girlfriend. He had looked like he’d just been handed the entire world. So, who had made him so happy this time? “You’re her big sis,” he said when I didn’t move, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. “Why are you getting so worked up over a pledge?” “We have interviews tomorrow,” he continued with a sigh. “It’s going to be so awkward. What are people going to think? You’re not a kid anymore, Lily.” I didn’t answer his question. I just asked my own. “When did you two start talking?” We’d been together since we were sixteen. We’d always been straight with each other. He frowned. “Talking? Lily, don’t make it sound so sordid. I’m the head of the committee. It’s my job to answer questions from the new pledges.” Just then, his phone rang. It was an unknown number, no contact name. But the moment he saw it, his eyes lit up. He knew the number by heart. He was about to answer, but then he caught my eye and hesitated. “It’s probably one of the pledges,” he said, the explanation completely unnecessary. I scoffed. “If it’s so normal, then answer it.” He cleared his throat and put the call on speaker. Before he could say anything, Chloe’s sickly-sweet voice filled the air. “I got the stockings! So, this is what you like, huh? Want to see me try them on?” Asher’s hand trembled, his face a mask of panic. He was about to speak, but I cut him off with a bright, cheerful voice. “I don’t know if your big bro wants to see, but your big sis sure does.” 3. The other end of the line went dead silent. It took Asher a moment to recover. “Don’t mess around, Chloe. Your big sis is here.” “Oh! Big sis, don’t get the wrong idea!” Chloe said, her voice a mix of feigned innocence and smug triumph. “Asher just said a few days ago that my legs were so long and skinny, they’d look great in stockings, so I asked him to help me pick some out.” I fought back the urge to scream. “Is that so?” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Well, I’ve seen your chest, but I haven’t seen your legs. So, show us.” Her prepared speech died in her throat. She was speechless. “Don’t be late for your interview,” Asher said, coming to her rescue. He quickly hung up the phone. The moment the screen went dark, I saw his wallpaper. It used to be a picture of me. Now, it was Chloe’s half-naked selfie. I crossed my arms and leaned against the wall, staring at his embarrassed face. “It was just a joke,” he said, his voice strained. “She’s always like that, she doesn’t mean anything by it.” Looking at this person who was becoming more and more of a stranger, I suddenly laughed. I took the cake from him. “I’ll do the presentation for the welcome event, you can do the talking,” I said, my voice calm. “You’ve worked hard.” I changed the subject, not wanting to push him any further. He looked surprised, his eyes filled with a strange expression as he studied me. But before he could say anything, a notification popped up on his phone. A special alert for a specific contact. A small smile touched his lips. He waved goodbye and walked away. I watched him go, my heart sinking. The wind whipped at my clothes, a sudden, sharp chill. I turned and threw the cake in the trash. 4. The day of the interviews, right when we were at our busiest, Asher, who was supposed to take over for me, was nowhere to be found. He didn’t answer his phone, didn’t reply to my texts. He finally showed up two hours later, strolling in with a boba tea in one hand, a girl in a plaid skirt trailing behind him. I recognized her immediately. It was Chloe. She was wearing a full face of makeup, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she skipped over to me. “Hi, big sis! You must be exhausted!” she chirped. “It’s all my fault, I got lost. I had to bother Asher to come and get me. I’m so, so sorry.” It was the middle of the day, and the sun was scorching. The air conditioning in the interview room was broken, and the small space was hot and stuffy. I was sweating, I hadn’t eaten all morning, and my patience was wearing thin. “She’s new, she doesn’t know her way around,” Asher said, seeing the look on my face. “I just went to pick her up.” “Hehe, thank you, big bro! You’re the best!” Chloe gushed, completely ignoring me as she wrapped her arms around Asher’s arm, pressing her chest against him. The top buttons of her shirt were undone, revealing a patch of pale skin and… a few faint, red marks. Asher’s eyes flickered down to her chest, then quickly away, a faint blush on his cheeks. My friend, another one of the committee heads, nudged me. I felt a wave of nausea. It was early autumn, not spring. Asher turned and met my gaze. He stiffened and gently pushed Chloe away. I didn’t hold back. “What road takes two hours to walk? Did you get lost, too, Asher?” “She had to put on makeup,” he said, his tone defensive. “That takes time. And she always sleeps in, so she hadn’t eaten breakfast. I just took her to get something to eat, is that a crime?” My friend couldn’t take it anymore. “Like any of us have eaten,” she said pointedly. “Chloe’s different,” Asher frowned. “She’s too skinny. If she doesn’t eat, she gets low blood sugar.” He paused, his eyes landing on my face. Because I hadn’t eaten all morning, my lips were pale and chapped. He flinched, remembering that I had just been diagnosed with anemia. He looked away, unable to meet my eyes. He shoved the boba tea into my hand. “Here, you drink this,” he mumbled. “I’ll go get us some food.” I looked down at the boba tea. There was a smudge of lipstick on the straw. The same shade Chloe was wearing. “Sorry, big sis,” Chloe said, batting her eyelashes innocently. “I just wanted to taste his. You don’t mind, do you?” I couldn’t help but laugh. I adopted her baby-talk voice. “Actually, I do mind. What if you have, like, cooties or something?” Her face fell. Before she could say anything, I cut her off. “And by the way, the interviews are over. Sorry, Chloe, you missed your chance.” She looked stunned, her lip trembling as she looked at Asher. He stopped in his tracks, then turned and patted her on the head. “No, you didn’t,” he said softly. “I interviewed you myself. You did great.” There were five of us on the committee, and we each had six spots to fill. If Asher wanted to take Chloe, no one could stop him. He also took a few of the frat boys who had defended her in the group chat. I just shrugged. “Whatever. I sent you the presentation. Make sure you’re ready for tomorrow.” Seeing that I had backed down, he looked relieved. “Wait for me, I’ll be right back.” I didn’t. 5. While we were setting up for the new member welcome event, Asher was clearly giving me the cold shoulder. He was mad that I had ignored him the day before. Even when he handed me a bottle of water, his face was a mask of cold indifference. “Still not feeling well?” he asked. My friend pushed his hand away and gave me a boba tea, the same kind from yesterday. “Here, Lily, drink this. No cooties this time, I promise.” I thanked her and took it. Asher just stared at me, his lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, he scoffed. “So petty.” He pulled out his phone and, with a flourish, rejected Chloe’s request for him to pick her up. “Happy now?” he asked, holding up his phone, a smug, triumphant smile on his face. But my eyes were fixed on the top of his screen. It was a chat with Chloe from that morning, at 2:00 AM. He had sent her a “good night” message with a kissy-face emoji. The last time he had called me was at 9:00 PM the night before. I just laughed and shook my head. Asher had clearly forgotten who I was. I didn’t get sad, I got even. *Angry?* Never. The ones who were about to be angry were them. 6. The welcome event started, and Chloe was late. Again. The faculty advisor for our organization was a stickler for punctuality, so Asher told her to sneak in through the back. She didn’t. She threw open the front doors with a loud bang, startling everyone. “Oops, sorry, I got lost again!” she chirped. “I’m so dumb!” The advisor’s face darkened. Asher quickly waved her over to a seat. She stomped her foot. “Don’t be mad at me, guys! It’s all Asher’s fault! He should have come to get me!” She then marched over, moved the nameplate with my name on it, and plopped down next to Asher, pouting up at him. He glanced at me, but I just stood in the corner, taking pictures like nothing was wrong. Seeing that I wasn’t bothered, he seemed a little disappointed. But he just put a finger to his lips. “Shh, the advisor is here.” “Oh, sorry, professor!” she said loudly, covering her mouth with her sleeve as she giggled. The girl on stage who had been interrupted rolled her eyes. “I have a severe allergy to stupidity,” she said, glaring at Chloe. “So, please, stay away.” Chloe looked offended, but Asher just chuckled. “You hear that, little dummy?” he whispered in her ear. She playfully slapped his arm a few times, then shot me a triumphant look. 7. After all the new members had introduced themselves, it was Asher’s turn to speak. The moment he stepped on stage, Chloe started clapping and cheering. “Wow, you’re so handsome, Asher! I love you!” She was sitting in the front row, swinging her legs back and forth. With every swing, her short skirt rode up, giving everyone a clear view of her underwear. Asher’s eyes darted down, then quickly away, a faint blush on his cheeks. “You’re the only one making a scene,” he said, trying to sound stern. She just stuck her tongue out at him and shot me another smug look. I just stood in the corner, recording the whole thing, waiting for the show to begin. And right on cue, the computer malfunctioned. The presentation wouldn’t open. So I suggested that Asher use his phone to project it onto the screen. He had no choice but to agree. But the moment he connected his phone, a gasp went through the room. His wallpaper, Chloe’s half-naked selfie, was now displayed on the giant screen for everyone to see. This version was much more… complete than the one she had posted in the group chat. Every part of her that was supposed to be covered was on full display. And a few parts that weren’t. It was obvious that this was a private picture she had sent him. But Asher had forgotten. He had just changed his wallpaper.

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My boyfriend’s electric razor was borrowed by his female “best friend.” When she returned it, it was covered in tiny, dark hairs. “Are these her armpit hairs?” I demanded, storming into the bathroom. Before my boyfriend could answer, a series of comments popped up in my vision, like a live stream chat. [LOL, this girlfriend is so petty. What else is a razor for if not for shaving?] [If she’s this mad about armpit hair, imagine if she knew the bestie used it to shave her bikini line. She’d probably have a heart attack.] [Don’t worry, guys. If she doesn’t throw a fit and start a huge fight, how will the male lead ever realize his true feelings? He’s been hiding behind the ‘best friend’ label for years because he’s scared of losing her. This is true love, I’m telling you!] [Just waiting for the crazy girlfriend to push him away so the bestie can swoop in and comfort him. Sparks will fly, and they’ll finally get their happily ever after!] My boyfriend’s annoyed voice snapped me back to reality. “So what if they are? We’re best friends, we don’t care about that stuff. Stop being so dramatic.” I just smiled and handed the razor back to him. “It’s your stuff. If you’re not grossed out, then it’s fine by me.” 1. Asher was a neat freak with a touch of OCD. Since we moved in together, I’d kept our apartment spotless. I hand-washed and ironed all his clothes, making sure there was never a single wrinkle. I mopped the floors twice a day, and I changed the sheets every three days. Normally, I would have meticulously cleaned every single hair off that razor before giving it back to him. But this time, I just handed it to him, hairs and all. Asher stared at me, stunned. The live stream chat in my head exploded. [WTF? Why isn’t she flipping out? Isn’t she supposed to have a full-blown meltdown and demand an explanation?] [Yeah, at this point in the story, the bestie and the male lead are still just friends. It’s the crazy girlfriend’s jealousy that pushes him into the bestie’s arms. If she doesn’t follow the script, what’s gonna happen to our girl?] [OMG, this stupid side character is going off-script. What is she planning?] I ignored the ridiculous comments and walked out of the bathroom. “I’m going to be late for work,” Asher called after me, grabbing my arm. He didn’t have to say it. I knew he didn’t want to use that razor and was hoping I’d clean it for him. But why should I have to clean up after another woman’s pubic hairs? “Oh,” I said flatly. “Then you should probably hurry up.” I gently closed the bedroom door behind me, ignoring the shocked look on his face, and calmly started packing my suitcase. 2. Asher and I met our freshman year of college. He was the student body president, and I was the top-ranked incoming student. We were assigned to co-host the orientation ceremony. I wasn’t looking for a relationship, but he pursued me relentlessly. He wrote me heartfelt letters every morning and evening, brought me three home-cooked meals a day, and if I so much as glanced at something in a store window, it would appear on my desk the next day. When I was being bullied by some upperclassmen, he was always the first one there to defend me. Everyone said we were the perfect couple. Eventually, I was swept up in the romance of it all and agreed to be his girlfriend on his 18th attempt. The first time I heard about his female “best friend” was the night I said yes. We were watching a movie when his phone started buzzing incessantly. “It’s just my best bro,” he’d whispered in my ear. “Probably heard the good news and is calling to congratulate me.” “I’ll just take this outside.” I didn’t think much of it at the time. But he was on the phone for the entire movie. An hour and a half. When the movie ended, I was pushed along with the crowd, finally getting some fresh air. I saw him standing under a streetlight, moths fluttering around him. It was a hot summer night, and his arms were covered in mosquito bites, but he hadn’t moved an inch. As I got closer, I heard a cheerful, feminine voice on the other end of the line. “Can’t you stand a little closer to the light, dude? I can’t see your face.” “You’re finally in a relationship, and you’re just going to forget about your best friend, huh? We haven’t seen each other in, like, six months.” It hit me then. His best “bro” was a girl. I stared at Asher, and he had a pout on his face. “Don’t even start with me. It’s my first day in a relationship. You’ve been in one for six months.” I didn’t realize it then, but that was right when he had started pursuing me. Now, seeing the comments, it all made sense. My perfect, fairy-tale romance was just a lie, a childish game from the very beginning. [Poor guy. He didn’t even know his own heart back then.] [The bestie got a boyfriend first, so he got jealous and started dating someone else to compete with her. They were so close to being together!] [If only he had realized he was jealous back then, he wouldn’t have been stuck with this psycho for so many years. And now they’re about to get engaged!] That’s right. Asher and I were supposed to have our engagement party in seven days. We’d been together for seven years, from freshman year of college to my last year of my master’s program. He was a year older than me and had a great job in his hometown. After a year of long distance, he had proposed three months ago. Even though I knew that being with him meant leaving my home of over twenty years and starting a new life in a new city, I had said yes without a second thought. But now, I regretted it. 3. The apartment we were living in was supposed to be our marital home. His family had paid for it in full, and my family had paid for the renovations. As I calmly packed my bags, I tried to figure out how to get my family’s money back. The comments kept scrolling. [Wait, is she leaving him?] [This psycho doesn’t get that she’s just a plot device, does she? Stop messing with the story!] Just as I was zipping up my suitcase, Asher walked in, holding a brand-new razor. He saw my suitcase and frowned. “You’re just going back to campus for your thesis defense, right? Why are you packing so much?” [Oh, right! I forgot she had to go back for her defense.] [LOL, I actually thought she was breaking up with him for a second. I guess I overestimated her.] [What are you guys thinking? She’s obsessed with him. And their engagement party is in a week, the invitations have already been sent out. There’s no way she’s giving up that easily.] I ignored the comments. And Asher. I just tucked my ID and passport into my suitcase. He grabbed my hand. “We need to talk.” But his phone rang. He glanced at the screen and his frown deepened. “I might have to work late today,” he said quickly. “But I’ll still be able to take you to the train station. Just wait for me at home.” He rushed out the door. I thought he was really going to work. But then, that evening, I got a text from the train ticket app. *Your train ticket has been successfully changed.* 4. I jumped to my feet, my hand slipping from the handle of my suitcase. It crashed to the floor with a loud thud, scattering my panicked thoughts. My defense was tomorrow. I had specifically booked an evening train so Asher could take me to the station after work. But now, it had been changed to the earliest train the next morning. That meant I would have to rush straight from the station to the university, and if there were any delays, I would miss my defense. How could this have happened? Was it a weather delay? I immediately called the ticket app’s customer service. The moment I was connected to a representative, a chorus of “LOL”s filled the comments. [OMG, guys, she’s so dumb. She actually thinks it was a weather delay.] [She’s going to lose it when she finds out he was the one who changed it.] [Well, what was he supposed to do? Our strong, independent queen, the bestie, was finally showing a moment of weakness. He couldn’t just abandon her. It’s the crazy girlfriend’s fault for not realizing she was getting in the way of true love.] A chill went down my spine. Asher had changed my ticket? Just to be with his “best friend,” Sienna, who was feeling down? My hand was trembling as I dialed his number. “Asher,” I said, my voice surprisingly calm. “Why did you change my train ticket?” He just sighed. “Sienna got fired. She’s really upset.” “You know how she is,” he continued. “When she’s sad, she stress-eats, but she just had a stomach ulcer. As her best friend, I can’t just leave her alone.” It hit me then. “So,” I said, my voice flat, “when you rushed out this morning, you weren’t going to work. You were going to be with Sienna.” Suddenly, Sienna was on the phone. Her voice was hoarse. “It’s not his fault, Chloe. I’ll tell him to come back and take you to the station right now.” “I told him I was fine,” she added. “He’s always so overprotective.” Asher sighed again. I could picture the look of annoyance on his face. Whenever it came to Sienna, he always got impatient with me. Even the comments were getting annoyed. [This girlfriend is so annoying. She’s interrupting their special moment.] [They were so close to confessing their true feelings, and she had to ruin it.] [I’ll bet you a dollar she’s about to throw a tantrum. She really thinks that’s how you win a man’s heart.] [You don’t need to bet on that. Of course she’s going to go crazy.] Asher sighed again, his voice thick with frustration. “Chloe, I promise you won’t miss your defense. You don’t have to…” “I get it,” I said, cutting him off. Then, I hung up. 5. I immediately called a cab and went to the train station. I changed my ticket back to the original time. The comments were a stream of mockery. [Wait, what is she doing? She’s such a manipulative bitch.] [She’s just changing it back so he’ll see the notification and come running after her. She’s not going to cry and scream this time, she’s going to play the victim and run away?] [LOL, not everyone is the main character. Does she really think this is going to get his attention?] [This girl is so toxic. How is she supposed to be a foil to our sweet, down-to-earth bestie? I’m crying.] [Don’t worry, she won’t be able to keep it up for long. I guarantee she won’t get on that train until she sees him. She’s just wasting a ticket.] I just glanced at the comments and then looked away. As I was heading to the platform, I got a text from Asher. [You changed it back?] [Come on, don’t be like this. Sienna is worried about you. She even offered to come with me to see you off.] [See? Why can’t you be more like her?] [We’re on our way. Just wait for me. We’ll talk before you go. We agreed, never go to bed angry, remember?] The train pulled into the station. The crowd pushed me forward, into the bustling car. Ignoring the comments that were still flashing in my vision, I calmly found my seat. As the train started to move, I looked down at my phone and typed a reply. [Don’t bother, Asher.] [We’re breaking up.]

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