Author: Momo Chan

1 My father was forcing me into a strategic marriage, so I made a frantic call to my girlfriend, Claire. Her voice was cold steel over the phone. “Another one of your schemes to get me to meet your parents? Seriously, Nate, it’s getting pathetic.” “I’ve told you a hundred times, Leo has no one right now. Until he finds a new girlfriend and gets back on his feet, I am not thinking about marriage.” “I’m busy with work. I have to go.” The line went dead. The light in my eyes dimmed, fading to gray. I looked up at my father and nodded. “I lost the bet. I’ll do it. I’ll accept the marriage.” … “I’ll pick you up in three days,” he said, then left. I sat alone in the corner of a quiet bar, drinking myself into a stupor, when I saw two familiar figures walk by the window. Claire and Leo, hand in hand, strolling through the park across the street, their laughter carrying on the crisp autumn wind as they kicked through piles of fallen leaves. They looked so blissfully, disgustingly happy. A fire ignited in my gut. I couldn’t stop myself. I stormed out of the bar. When her eyes met my furious gaze, a flash of guilt crossed Claire’s face. She snatched her hand away from his, but then immediately went on the offensive. “What are you doing here? Are you following me?” “You told me you were busy with work,” I shot back, my fists clenched at my sides. Before Claire could answer, Leo jumped in. “Nate, don’t blame Claire. She only lied because she was afraid you’d get jealous and overthink things.” “Shut up!” It was the first time I had ever raised my voice like that. “Claire,” I said, my voice shaking with a rage I could no longer contain. “Your precious ‘adopted brother’ is twenty-four years old. He is a grown man. Can he not function on his own? Does he need you to hold his hand every single day?” “What does his breakup have to do with us getting married? He gets dumped, so now he gets to hold your hand whenever he wants?” “Anyone who saw you two would think you’re the couple!” “Have you ever once stopped to think about how I feel?” I stared into her eyes, searching for something, anything. She looked surprised at first, but then her expression smoothed over into an unnerving calm. “Are you done?” she asked, her tone flat. I just stood there, speechless. Her placid demeanor was a wall of ice, completely shutting out the inferno of my emotions. “Claire,” Leo said, his voice trembling as his eyes welled up with tears. “Maybe… maybe I should just apologize to Nate. And you should stop coming to see me. I can take care of myself.” It was his go-to move. Every time Claire and I fought over him, he’d pull this pathetic, “I might as well just die” routine. “Don’t be ridiculous, it’s not your fault,” Claire said, her voice instantly softening for him. She shot me a glare. “We’re going to the movies.” She turned to leave, pulling him along. But after a few steps, she stopped. For a fleeting second, I thought she was going to apologize. I was wrong. “Nathaniel,” she said, not even bothering to look at me. “People get divorced from marriages all the time. We’re not even married. You’re overstepping.” A bucket of ice water crashed over me. I watched her walk away, my nails digging so deep into my palms that I felt the sting of blood. The pain was a dull throb that spread through my entire body. But this time, I didn’t chase after her. I didn’t beg. I just turned and walked away. “Seven years, Claire,” I muttered to the empty air. “I’ve wasted seven years of my life. I’m not wasting another second.” I had just gotten home when a text from her came through. 【Not coming home tonight.】 【Leo wants to see the meteor shower. I’m staying with him.】 At the same time, a new post appeared on Leo’s social media. 【Who else has no one to go to the movies with?】 【Who else has a sweet older sister to wait for shooting stars with in the dark?】 The post was accompanied by a picture of their two movie ticket stubs and another of their shadows making a heart shape. It felt like a deliberate, calculated mockery. After all, I had been the one to suggest we go see a movie tonight. I was the one who told her about the meteor shower. Fueled by whiskey and rage, I smashed the framed photo of us in the living room. I took the scrapbook where I’d documented our entire relationship and shredded it with a pair of scissors. Finally, I dug out the box of her old love letters and set them on fire in the fireplace. As the flames licked at the paper, memories flickered before my eyes. Claire and I met our freshman year of college. It wasn’t some grand, dramatic romance; our eyes met, we clicked, and that was it. We were together for seven years, through college and into our careers. All our friends called us the perfect couple. But the day I proposed, the day she said yes, her adopted brother, Leo, came back into town. He showed up on our doorstep, sobbing about how his girlfriend had broken his heart, how Claire was the only important woman he had left in his life. If she got married, he didn’t know how he could possibly go on living. So, Claire called off the wedding, saying she needed to help him heal from his “psychological trauma.” I thought it would be a temporary delay. But soon, she refused to even talk about meeting my parents. Her entire world began to revolve around Leo. On our anniversary, one phone call from him was enough to make her cancel our plans. She completely forgot my birthday but threw him a massive, extravagant party for his. She, who had never cooked a day in her life, was suddenly spending hours in the kitchen trying new recipes for him. The only time I ever saw her get angry at Leo was when he deliberately tampered with my car’s brakes. I crashed into a median and ended up in the hospital with a concussion and a split forehead. That day, Claire swore to me she would teach him a lesson and finally set some boundaries. By the next morning, her resolve had vanished. She showed up at the hospital with a thermos of soup. “Leo’s just depressed from the breakup,” she’d said. “He was scared you were going to take me away from him. He did a stupid thing, but he never thought it would be this serious.” “He cried all night. He was so upset he almost tried to kill himself. He’s already apologized, Nate. Just let it go, okay?” That should have been it. That should have been the moment I understood where I stood. But I clung to a sliver of hope that she would change. In the year since, Leo has systematically stolen every part of my life. The last letter turned to ash, and so did my love. Outside, meteors streaked across the sky. I called a realtor and put the house up for sale. Then I curled up on the sofa and spent the night alone. When I woke up, there was a blanket draped over me. The living room had been cleaned up, the broken glass swept away. A moment later, Claire walked out of the kitchen with a plate. “I made your favorite,” she said. “Chocolate chip pancakes.” I didn’t move. “Leo is very fragile right now,” she continued, as if that explained everything. “I had to defend him yesterday when we were out. You, on the other hand, you’re strong enough to handle it.” Not a word of apology. Just a calm statement of fact, as if I deserved her cruelty. “You forgot,” I said, my voice raspy. “I hate chocolate chip pancakes.” Claire froze, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. Then, it dawned on her. Chocolate chip pancakes were Leo’s favorite. She had made them out of habit. It wasn’t the first time. It seemed that whatever I disliked, Leo loved. And as for my own preferences, she had forgotten them completely. “It’s just breakfast, Nate. Don’t be so difficult,” she snapped, her patience gone. She was never like this before. But somewhere along the way, she had given all her tenderness to Leo, and saved all her anger for me. Her excuse? I was the person closest to her. “Just say it,” I said, taking a deep breath. “What does Leo want now?” It was a pattern. Any time she showed me a sliver of warmth, it was because Leo needed something from me. “It’s nothing major,” she said, forcing her tone to be patient again. “He… wants us to have a fake wedding.” “His therapist thinks it will help with his recovery. Give him some closure.” I stared at her. I couldn’t believe it. She would stage a fake wedding with him but wouldn’t even meet my parents. After a long silence, I nodded. “We’re done.” “Do whatever you want.” A look of pure shock crossed her face, and then she shot to her feet. “Nathaniel!” she seethed. “This wasn’t a discussion. It was a notification!” “Don’t you dare threaten me with a breakup! I am going to have this wedding with Leo, with or without your approval!” She glared down at me like I was a prisoner in the dock. There was no point in arguing. My silence seemed to fuel her arrogance. “And we’ll be using our house as the venue.” “Don’t worry,” she added, as if it were a comfort. “It’s just for show. Nothing real will happen.” She was going to marry another man. In the house I paid for. The humiliation was a physical weight. But I was too tired, too empty, to fight anymore. Bzz. Bzz. Her phone buzzed. It was Leo. “Claire,” he whimpered into the phone. “My head hurts.” His voice was like a needy puppy’s. I remember her saying how much she hated men who acted like that. But now, her face was a mask of concern. “Oh, Leo, you just hang on. I’m on my way.” Her voice was softer than silk. She hung up and rushed out the door without another glance at me. A little while later, Claire’s profile picture on social media, which had been a photo of us, was replaced by a picture of her and Leo, shoulders touching as they watched the meteor shower. He changed his, too. And they both updated their bios to the same quote: 【In the cold, falling leaves of autumn, you are the sunshine that came into my life.】 I was the clown living in their shadow. A wave of shame washed over me. I stormed into the bedroom to pack my things when a call came from Claire’s mother. “Nate, honey,” she said. “Can you come down to the office? There’s a deal that only you can handle.” I agreed. For one, her mother had always been decent to me, and I wanted to say a proper goodbye. For two, I needed to retrieve my grandfather’s heirloom. When I got to the company, she immediately handed me a yogurt. “Your favorite,” she said with a warm smile. “Mango.” A small warmth spread through my chest. “Oh, and Claire told me you two have set a wedding date for next week! We should have your parents fly in early so our families can finally have dinner together,” she continued happily. I froze. Claire had lied to her mother, planning to just spring the truth on her after the fact. I was about to tell her what was really going on when she added, “And even after you two are married, you must promise me you’ll continue to take good care of Leo. He needs it.” The words died in my throat. I was an outsider. I always would be. I silently finished the work, then went to Claire’s office. Before my grandfather passed away, he gave me a small, silver locket. He said it would protect me. I’d worn it my entire life. When Claire complained about the “bad energy” in her new office, I’d given it to her to keep on her desk. It was time to take it back. I opened her desk drawer where she kept it, but the locket was gone. As I stood there, confused, the office door opened. Leo walked in. And there, hanging from a chain around his neck, was my grandfather’s locket. I couldn’t believe it. She had just given away my family’s most precious heirloom. “That’s mine,” I said, my voice low and tight. “Give it back.” “Alright,” Leo said with a smirk. He took it off, and made a show of tossing it to me. But instead, he let it slip through his fingers, and it smashed on the hard tile floor. Crack. The locket broke apart. Rage, pure and white-hot, flooded my vision. I launched myself at him, tackling him to the ground. He didn’t even fight back. He just started screaming for Claire, who was down the hall. “Nathaniel!” she shrieked. “Get off of him!” She and a few other employees rushed in, pulled me off him, and then she slapped me. Hard. “Are you insane?” she screamed, her eyes blazing. “Why would you attack him?” My cheek was numb. I pointed at the shattered pieces on the floor. “Why did you give him my locket?” Claire flinched.

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My boyfriend’s childhood best friend is a foodie with a terrible memory. She can never remember where the best spots are. The amazing boba place on the East Side, the legendary lobster roll truck on the North Side—she gets them mixed up every single time. This has been a running theme, right up until my one-hundredth date with my boyfriend, Leo. Her call came, right on schedule. First, she wished us a happy date night on the East Side. Then, she mentioned she was dying for one of those lobster rolls. “You’re basically passing right by it anyway,” she chirped. “Grab one for me on your way back? You’re a lifesaver!” Leo laughed, the same way he always did. “Silly goose,” he said into the phone. “You got it mixed up again!” But after he hung up, he smoothly executed a U-turn. “We can have a date night anytime,” he said, patting my knee. “But that truck sells out early. We’ve got to be a little patient with our forgetful little foodie, right?” I’d heard some version of that line ninety-nine times before. So this time, instead of being patient, I decided to go home and call my mother about that guy she wanted to set me up with. After all, who doesn’t have a childhood best friend? 1 Hearing that, Leo slammed on the brakes. His hands tightened on the steering wheel. He turned to look at me, his brow furrowed in disbelief. “Stella, what did you just say?” He paused, and as if a thought suddenly occurred to him, his expression softened. A small smile played on his lips. “Aw, is someone getting a little jealous?” he teased. “Daisy’s just… you know how she is. If she gets a craving for something and can’t have it, she’ll literally cry herself to sleep.” He reached over, trying to take my hand. “And you can’t just joke about breaking up. That really hurts, you know?” He was talking to me like I was a pouting child. He wasn’t taking me seriously at all. So I looked him straight in the eye, my own expression unyielding. “Leo, I’m breaking up with you.” The smile froze on his face. After a long moment, he looked past me, toward the highway sign pointing north. His voice was faint. “Just because I’m going to the North Side to get her a lobster roll?” I nodded. And then I shook my head. Yes and no. 2 I don’t think it’s a big deal to grab food for a friend. I’m not the kind of girlfriend who forbids her boyfriend from having female friends. What I care about is that every single time it’s inconvenient, every single time it’s out of the way, Leo chooses to derail our plans and drive across half the city, just to deliver a snack to his forgetful foodie of a best friend. Leo sighed, launching into the familiar explanation. “Stella, we’re going to be together forever. We can go on a date any night. But Daisy hardly ever asks me for anything. How can I say no when she just wants us to grab something for her on the way?” “Hardly ever?” I repeated the words, a bitter laugh threatening to escape. When Leo and I first got together, he introduced me to all his friends. He made a special point of introducing me to Daisy, his “super sweet but totally scatterbrained childhood best friend.” At first, I didn’t think anything of it. So what if they grew up together? So what if everyone thought they were destined to be together? On our very first date, she called asking us to pick up some spicy wings. I didn’t mind. Even when it turned out the place she wanted was an hour in the opposite direction of our restaurant. The next day, Leo and I made a special trip, bought the wings, and I went with him to drop them off. But when her dad opened the door, Daisy was nowhere in sight. Her father had a complicated look on his face. “That girl of mine,” he sighed. “She gets these cravings. Realized she sent you to the wrong place and didn’t want to bother you again. But she was so upset about it, she cried all night. Cried so hard she could barely breathe. Her mom had to take her to the ER this morning.” Even then, I just thought she was a quirky, overly sensitive foodie who got a little dramatic when she was hungry. Leo, however, was consumed with guilt. “I’ve known her since we were kids, Stella,” he told me. “She’s like a sister to me. I promised her a long time ago that if she ever wanted anything to eat, I’d move heaven and earth to get it for her. I broke my promise.” We went to the hospital to visit her. The doctor said she’d had an episode of respiratory alkalosis from hyperventilating. He warned us not to let her get that worked up again. Leo nodded frantically. He sat by her bed and soothed her like a child. “Don’t you worry, Daisy. Next time you want something, your big bro will get it for you, no matter what.” I didn’t realize how serious he was. Until every single date after that. Daisy’s phone calls became a ritual, more reliable than an alarm clock. The boba from the East Side, the lobster rolls from the North Side. She never once remembered the right location. And every time, she’d sound devastated. “Oh, no,” she’d whine. “Forget it. It’s okay, I don’t need it. I don’t want to ruin your date.” But just before hanging up, you could always hear the sound of a choked-back sob. Terrified of another hospital visit, Leo would turn to me with that pleading look. “Stella, we can reschedule. But if she doesn’t get what she’s craving, you know she’ll cry all night. What if she ends up in the hospital again?” And then would come the U-turn, the drive to the opposite end of the city. Once, twice, three times, I told myself it was nothing. She was just a girl who really, really loved food. By the tenth, eleventh, twelfth time, I started to wonder. Even if you’re that forgetful, can’t you write it down? Use Google Maps? By the twentieth, thirtieth, fortieth time, it started to feel absurd. If you’re that desperate for a lobster roll, call an Uber. Get it delivered. But according to Leo, “By the time a delivery driver gets it to her, it’ll be cold. And Daisy’s super picky about her food. It’s just easier if I do it.” He never sounded annoyed. In fact, he sounded proud, like it was a privilege. As for Daisy, every time he delivered, she’d grab my hands and apologize profusely. “Stella, I’m so, so sorry. Did I mess up your date with Leo again? I’m just so stupid, I can never get the locations right. I promise, next time I’ll control myself. I won’t call him, no matter how much I want something.” Of course, that just made Leo feel even sorrier for her. “Don’t be silly,” he’d scold her gently. “It’s not a big deal. Your sister Stella is the most understanding person in the world. She doesn’t mind, do you, Stella?” He put me on a pedestal of “understanding girlfriend,” leaving me no room to complain. And so, the cycle continued. But even I’m not that dense. After nearly a hundred interrupted dates, a hundred conveniently timed phone calls, and a hundred “forgotten” locations, the message was crystal clear. This wasn’t about food. This was Daisy’s way of showing me—and him—who really came first. Childhood sweetheart versus the new girlfriend. It was a test. After the ninety-ninth time, I had a huge fight with Leo. He swore up and down it would never happen again. I decided to believe him one last time. But on our one-hundredth date, the phone rang right on cue. The same conversation. The same U-turn. The same expectation that I would be the “understanding” one. And I was just so tired. “Leo,” I said. “Let’s just break up.” 3 He didn’t agree. He apologized over and over, even turning the car back around toward our original destination. We hadn’t gone two miles before his phone rang again. It was Daisy, her voice thick with barely suppressed sobs. “Leo,” she cried, “I tried to get a delivery service, but they said it would take three hours! I just checked the truck’s social media, and they only have three lobster rolls left! I guess I’m not going to get one after all, boo hoo…” Her crying grew louder, and the look of distress on Leo’s face deepened. He softened his voice to a gentle coo. “Hey, hey, it’s just a lobster roll. Don’t cry. Your big bro is on his way right now. I’ll definitely get one for you.” I sat in the passenger seat, silent, listening. The moment he hung up, he started another U-turn. This time, I didn’t just sit there. I unbuckled my seatbelt. While the car was still moving, I reached for the door handle. That got his attention. He slammed on the brakes. I yanked the door open and got out. Leo was out of the car in a flash, jogging to catch up with me. He grabbed my arm, his voice soft and placating. “Stella, I swear, this is the last time. Please don’t be mad, okay?” He gestured around at the dark, empty road. “It’s late, there are no cabs out here. Are you really going to walk home?” “Stella, please, just trust me this one last…” His phone buzzed. A text from Daisy, no doubt. A second later, her panicked voice message played from his phone’s speaker. “Leo! They only have one left! There’s only one left! What do I do?” “Don’t worry, I’m almost there,” Leo texted back. Then he let go of my arm. I looked at him. There was a flicker of hesitation in his eyes, a moment of conflict. But it passed. He got back in the car and rolled down the window. “Stella, I have to go. Are you sure you won’t come with me?” I didn’t answer. He had to choose. It was me or Daisy. It had always been me or Daisy. And he had made his choice. The car started to roll forward. “Okay, well… I’ll go get this for her, and then I’ll come right back and pick you up. Don’t go anywhere.” Then he hit the gas. The car sped off, disappearing around a bend in the road in seconds. No hesitation at all. I put a hand over my heart. The heart that once beat so fast for him now just ached. But this time, I knew I had to make a clean break. I looked around. It was nine p.m. Our date was supposed to be at Starlight Point, a scenic overlook deep in the hills east of the city. We were going to stay the night at a little cabin up there. The road was remote. From the woods on either side, I could hear the occasional cry of some animal. Other than that, the highway was utterly, terrifyingly silent. 4 That night, Leo never came back for me. Not that I expected him to. For our special date, I’d dressed up. I was wearing a short dress and five-inch heels, completely impractical for the crisp autumn air. It wasn’t that far back to the city, but on foot, it would take hours. I tried calling an Uber. The app just spun and spun. “No cars available.” It was a weeknight. My closest friends all had jobs; they’d be asleep, phones on silent. I didn’t want to bother them. I had to walk. The heels were beautiful, but they were torture. In less than an hour, my ankles were rubbed raw and bleeding. I took them off and walked barefoot. The asphalt was rough and littered with sharp bits of gravel. In the dark, I couldn’t see them, and every few steps, a searing pain shot up my leg. I don’t know how long I walked. My phone battery was draining fast. The silence was unnerving, so I started scrolling through social media, just for the noise and light, to feel less alone. I saw that Daisy had just posted to Instagram. A nine-photo carousel. There was a picture of a steaming, delicious-looking lobster roll. A cute selfie of her with a happy, full-mouthed smile. And a picture of her standing next to Leo, who had an expression of fond exasperation on his face. The caption read: *The best feeling in the world is knowing there’s someone who will magically appear with whatever you’re craving, just like a genie in a bottle. ✨* The comments were from their mutual friends. *You two are so cute together! ❤️* *Couple goals!* How ironic. Maybe it was a rule that breakups required rain to set the mood. The sky opened up without warning. A few drops at first, then a full-blown, freezing downpour. The big, heavy drops stung my face. There was nowhere to take shelter. The wind picked up, and soon I was soaked to the bone, shivering uncontrollably. The cuts on my feet burned. By the time I finally limped into the city limits, it was three in the morning. The rain had let up a little, but I was in pain, freezing, and still a half-hour walk from my apartment. I found the nearest hotel and checked in. Sitting on the edge of the bed, I examined my feet in the bright light. They were a mess, crisscrossed with cuts. When I’d walked into the lobby, the night clerk had gasped at the trail of bloody footprints I’d left behind and asked if he should call the police. I ordered some antiseptic from a 24-hour delivery service. It stung like hell as I cleaned the wounds, but I was too exhausted to be thorough. I didn’t even have the energy to shower. I just bandaged my feet clumsily and collapsed onto the bed. When I woke up the next morning, my left foot was throbbing. One of the cuts must have had a piece of gravel still in it. The wound was inflamed and oozing, and putting any weight on it felt like stepping on a knife. I had no choice but to call a cab and go to the hospital. The doctor confirmed the infection, cleaned and bandaged my foot properly, and warned me to be careful for the next few days. Then he looked at my face. “You look terrible,” he said frankly. “Let’s get your temperature. After being out in the rain like that, you probably have a fever.” He was right. I took the prescription he wrote and went to the hospital pharmacy. On my way, in the hallway, I saw him. Leo. And next to him, bouncing on the balls of her feet, was a perfectly healthy-looking Daisy. Leo’s face went pale when he saw me. He rushed over, his voice a frantic whisper. “Stella, I was going to come back for you, I swear. But Daisy was crying so hard she started having trouble breathing again. She was dizzy and nauseous, it was way worse than before. I had to bring her to the ER. I figured you could probably get a cab…” His words trailed off as his eyes fell on my bandaged foot. “Stella… you’re hurt?” If this had been yesterday, I would have been furious. My boyfriend had abandoned me, again, for another woman. But last night, I had ended it. We were nothing to each other now. I could be on my deathbed, and he wouldn’t have the right to shed a tear. I pulled my arm away from his touch. “I told you last night, Leo,” I said, my voice cold and flat. “We’re broken up.” From across the hall, Daisy’s eyes lit up for a split second before she arranged her features into a mask of concern. She hurried over. “Oh, Stella, I know this is all my fault,” she said, her voice trembling. “If I wasn’t so greedy, Leo wouldn’t have had to postpone your date. I’m so sorry he left you stranded out there. Blame me, please. Don’t be mad at Leo, I…” “Fine,” I cut her off. “I’m not mad at him. And we’re not breaking up.” The mask on Daisy’s face shattered. Her expression turned ugly for a brief moment before she clutched her chest dramatically. “Leo,” she gasped, “I feel… dizzy. My chest hurts. But it’s okay. If Stella wants to take her anger out on me, she can. It’s all my fault anyway.” As she spoke, Leo was already moving to support her. She sagged against him, a perfect picture of fragile distress. Leo looked at her with pure, unadulterated concern. Then he looked up at me, and his eyes were filled with reproach. “Stella, stop it. Don’t bully her. She’s just a little clueless, that’s all. If you’re angry, take it out on me, but leave her alone. She was sick all night. She’s a patient. Can’t you have a little compassion?” A patient? I looked at Daisy, nestled in Leo’s arms. Her cheeks were rosy, her eyes bright. Then I thought of my own reflection in the mirror that morning: pale lips, tangled hair, a thick bandage on my foot. Who was the patient here? Love really is blind. It was true. I didn’t say another word, but my silence seemed to unnerve Daisy. She suddenly lunged toward me. “Stella, if you want to blame someone, blame me! Don’t blame—ah!” She had been moving toward me, but just as she got close, she threw herself backward with a theatrical shriek. Leo, standing right behind her, reacted instantly. He didn’t even think. He shoved me out of the way. One powerful arm wrapped around Daisy, catching her just before she hit the floor. She was safe. I, however, was not. My left foot was injured, my balance already precarious. The unexpected push sent me stumbling backward. My head cracked against the wall, sending stars bursting behind my eyes. I crumpled to the ground, a fresh wave of agony shooting up from my injured foot. “Stella! I didn’t mean to! I was just trying to catch Daisy before she hit her head…” Leo looked down at me on the floor, his face a mess of panic. He let go of Daisy and rushed to help me up. I flinched away from his touch. “Can you please,” I said, my voice shaking with disgust, “stop being so disgusting?” One minute, he’s telling me he loves me. The next, his every instinct is to protect her. A relationship can’t have three people in it. Trying to have both was just… gross. His hand froze in midair. His eyes widened. “You think I’m… disgusting?” I didn’t have to answer. Daisy did it for me, clutching her chest and starting to cry again. “Leo, I feel so sick.” Her words snapped him back to attention. He scooped her up in a princess carry and turned to me, his voice a jumble of explanations. “Stella, I am not breaking up with you. We’ll talk about this, I promise. But Daisy isn’t feeling well, I have to get her to a doctor. I’ll come find you as soon as she’s okay…” The same empty promises. The same disgusting words. He disappeared with her around the corner. I used the wall to pull myself up, my heart a block of ice in my chest. This was the man I had given my heart to. What a joke. Just then, my phone rang. It was my mom. A traditional, wonderfully stubborn woman. “Stella, honey,” she started without preamble, “you’re not getting any younger. Either you bring that boyfriend of yours home so we can talk about getting married, or you listen to me and meet up with Cole. You remember Cole, old Mr. Henderson’s grandson? He just moved back from overseas. You two grew up together, you know each other…” “Okay,” I interrupted her. “I’ll do it. I’ll meet Cole.” There was a pause on the other end. “Are you sure?” I looked down at my foot. Fresh blood was seeping through the white gauze. “Yes,” I said. “I’m sure. And I won’t regret it.” After all, who doesn’t have a childhood best friend?

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When I found out Jackson was cheating, we were both surprisingly calm about it. He stood there, shielding the girl behind him like some kind of hero. His voice was flat. “Don’t blame her. This was all me. I lost control. She’s innocent.” I just nodded. I got it. Later that night, Jackson came home and slid a folder across the kitchen island. Divorce papers. “I’ve been more than generous with the financials,” he said. “Take a look. If it’s all good, just sign.” I picked up the agreement, glanced at it, and then dropped it neatly into the trash can under the sink. I gave him my most understanding smile. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m not going to blow up our lives over something so trivial.” I mean, it’s just an affair. In the age of swipe-right and situationships, who hasn’t been tempted? God knows I haven’t always been a saint, so who was I to judge Jackson? 1 Jackson had a cigarette halfway to his lips. He froze, then slowly lowered it, looking at me like he’d never seen me before. I knew what he was thinking. This wasn’t the old me. Back in the day, I was the jealous type, the kind who’d check his phone. Jackson always had a magnetic pull on women, and even when we were crazy in love, he had to fend them off. It didn’t matter how hard he tried to be good for me; some girls just don’t care about a wedding ring. We used to fight about it constantly. But that was then. Maybe it was the years we’d spent together, the passion fizzling out into a comfortable, boring routine. Or maybe I just got older and too tired to fight. Our marriage had become like a placid lake on a windless day—not a single ripple. And when life gets too quiet, you start craving a little noise. “Jackson,” I said, leaning against the counter. “We’ve known each other for twenty years, been married for almost ten. The company is thriving. Our parents are practically best friends.” I let the words hang in the air. “Do you have any idea what a divorce would actually mean for us?” It would mean splitting assets, a move that would send our company’s stock into a nosedive. It would mean detonating a bomb in the middle of our two families. Our parents aren’t young anymore; they all have their health issues. A shock like that could be catastrophic. He was silent for a long time. Finally, he mumbled, “I was just trying to respect you.” “Your ‘respect’ involves getting a twenty-something pregnant and making me a cliché?” I shot back, my voice still even. He frowned, getting defensive. “She’s not just some ‘twenty-something’! And I told you, it was me. She knew I was married and tried to end it.” “I get it, you don’t have to explain,” I cut him off, deciding to just lay it all out. “You’re worried I’ll go after her, right? That I’ll use my position as your wife to make her life hell. Don’t be. If I have one virtue, Jackson, it’s that I can be incredibly generous.” He watched me, his eyes narrowed. “You’re really okay with this?” “I wouldn’t say I’m ‘okay’ with it,” I sighed dramatically. “But you two have found true love. That’s so rare these days. Who am I to stand in the way? Consider me a supporter.” 2 My little speech didn’t exactly win him over, but he knew I was speaking facts. He agreed to “reconsider” the divorce. For the next few days, he came home right after work. When his phone would buzz, he’d glance at me and silence the call. I made a point of being magnanimous. “Is that her? You should take it. Don’t let her feel ignored. If you can’t give her the title she wants, the least you can do is not make her feel like a secret.” He clenched his jaw, got up, and shut himself in the study. The closed door was a perfect metaphor for his heart. It hadn’t been open to me in a long, long time. Honestly, I understood. People are incredibly tolerant of those they truly love, and equally tolerant of those they feel nothing for. It’s the people they used to love that they become viciously cruel to. He must hate me right now. Hating me so much that sharing the same air in our living room was probably suffocating. And yet, here he was, playing the part of a husband every night, all because he was afraid of what I might do to his precious new love. Poor guy. What a trooper. That night, like every other night, I slept alone. I couldn’t remember the last time we’d slept together. In the beginning, I tried. I’d wear something sexy, make the first move. He’d always plead exhaustion. But please. Men can be eighty and still get a woman pregnant. They can be paralyzed from the neck down and still try to cop a feel off a nurse. I knew it wasn’t about being tired. He was getting his needs met elsewhere. But a woman in her thirties has needs. I was in my prime. So, I’d found a clean, discreet solution of my own. Just before bed, I got a text. “When are you going to divorce him?” “I told you, I don’t do this. I’m not the other woman. If you’re not leaving him, we’re done. Don’t contact me again.” I thought about his eight-pack and the things he could do with that body, and I licked my lips with a twinge of regret. A divorce was out of the question, but he sounded serious. I wasn’t going to beg. So, I just tapped his name and hit “delete contact.” Oh well. There are plenty of other fish in the sea. Bye-bye. The next one will be even better. 3 Monday morning. Quarterly shareholders’ meeting. I hadn’t been to the office regularly since my miscarriage a couple of years ago. After that, I stayed home to “recover,” happy to just collect my dividends. But I never missed a shareholders’ meeting. There were a few new faces since my last visit, but my eyes landed on one immediately. A young woman in the corner, tasked with taking the meeting minutes. She saw me, and her eyes darted around the room in a panic before she shrank in her chair and stared at her notepad. I didn’t feel any animosity toward her. Mostly just a little… pity. She was the first one Jackson had ever brought into my world, right under my nose. But she definitely wasn’t the first one he’d slept with during our marriage. Jackson was usually so good at keeping his work and private life separate. The others were never allowed anywhere near the company. The way he defended her, the way he brought her into this sacred space… I had to admit, this time it really might be love. At ten a.m. sharp, Jackson walked in. But he didn’t start the meeting. A moment later, there was a low murmur outside, and the conference room door swung open. A man in a sharp charcoal suit strolled in. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, though his tone held zero apology. He walked right past everyone and took the empty seat next to Jackson. He must have felt my gaze because his cool, indifferent eyes met mine for a fraction of a second before flicking away. I smirked to myself. That was Caleb for you. A complete poker face. Especially in bed. The more intense things got, the colder his expression became. I think I might have a thing for that, though. The colder he was, the more turned on I got. “Chloe, who’s that?” the shareholder next to me whispered. “Caleb. He was our angel investor,” I explained quietly. “We wouldn’t have gotten the company off the ground without him.” “I’ve never seen him at one of these before.” “He owns a lot of things. We send him an invite every quarter, but he always declines.” “So why is he here now?” I smiled and shook my head. “No idea. Maybe he was bored?” 4 The meeting wrapped up around noon. I decided to stay and have lunch with Jackson. I was washing my hands in the executive restroom when his little girlfriend walked in. She saw me and her first instinct was to bolt. But she stopped herself, shuffled over, and stood with her head bowed. “Mrs. Davis,” she mumbled, her voice barely a whisper. I took my time, slowly drying my hands, enjoying the hum of the air dryer. The silence stretched, and she started to tear up, her shoulders shaking. Pathetic. “Mrs. Davis, I swear, I never meant to hurt you. I… I didn’t know he was married when we first met…” she sobbed. “I tried to leave him, I really did, but… but…” “But you’re just so in love with him,” I finished for her, pulling a silk handkerchief from my purse. I gently tilted her chin up and dabbed her tears with a patronizing sort of pity. “The thought of leaving Jackson felt like a knife in your heart, a fate worse than death.” I continued, my voice soft and sweet. “So you had to stay. And then he brought you into the company, so you could finally be with him every single day. Am I getting it right?” I’d stolen all her lines. She just stared at me, too stunned to even cry. “Was there something you wanted to say to me?” I asked her. The office building was huge. If she’d really wanted to avoid me, it would have been easy. The girl’s motives were so transparent it was almost cute. “Mrs. Davis… you’re so smart, and beautiful, and you have everything… so… so could you please… just divorce him?” She knew how pathetic she sounded, because the tears started flowing again. “I have to ask. I… I’m pregnant.” “Does Jackson know?” I asked, my voice perfectly level. She nodded. “But he said you won’t agree to a divorce. Mrs. Davis, the baby is innocent… I grew up in a broken home. I just… I really want to give my child a complete family!” Her voice rose with rehearsed desperation. “Call me shameless, call me a homewrecker, I don’t care! I will do anything for my baby!” I offered a small, serene smile. “I see. You should stop crying. It’s not good for the baby.” “Thank you! Thank you for understanding!” she gushed, and actually started to bend her knees as if to kneel. But when she realized I wasn’t moving to stop her, she froze in an awkward, mid-curtsy squat. I glanced at my watch. It was past lunchtime. No wonder I was starving. “Jackson and I will discuss the divorce,” I said, patting her shoulder as I breezed past her. Jackson’s office was spacious. When I pushed the door open, he was in the middle of a conversation with Caleb. He smiled when he saw me. “Hey, perfect timing. Caleb, it’s been a while since you and Chloe have seen each other, right? Let’s all grab lunch.” It hadn’t been that long, actually. We’d just slept together last week. Caleb’s eyes flicked over to me. “It has been a minute,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. “I was actually going to text you both about lunch today, but it seems Chloe deleted my number?” “No way,” Jackson said, immediately grabbing my phone off the desk and scrolling through it. His face fell. “Huh. You’re not there.” “She must have deleted it by accident,” Jackson said, rushing to my defense. “Chloe never deletes anyone.” “It’s fine. We can fix that now,” Caleb said, holding out his own phone with his contact QR code already displayed. He watched, stone-faced, as Jackson used my phone to scan it and send a new contact request. I subtly rolled my eyes. And who was it, exactly, who swore last night we should never speak again? 5 Just as we were about to leave, there was a timid knock on the door. It was the little girlfriend, clutching her stomach and looking pale. She needed to leave for the day. Technically, she should have gone to her direct supervisor. But when you’re the boss’s darling, rules don’t apply. So, naturally, Jackson had to take care of her. Which meant Caleb and I were left to go to lunch alone. As I left, Jackson gave me a pointed look. “Be nice to Caleb,” he mouthed, “Apologize for deleting him.” They used to be best friends, I’ll give them that. Caleb’s seed money was what started everything. But we’re not college kids anymore. We’re in a different league now, and things get complicated. To show just how sorry I was, the moment we were inside Caleb’s black sedan, I offered my wrists to him. He wordlessly took off his silk tie and bound them. His expression was ice. “So ruthless,” he murmured, his voice a low growl. “Just delete me like that.” He leaned in closer, his breath hot against my ear. “You think you can just come and go as you please? Walk in and out of my life whenever you feel like it? What do you take me for, Chloe? Your dog?” The car’s windows were tinted, but we were still in the company’s parking garage. The familiar setting, the risk, sent a jolt of electricity through me. “You love him that much?” he sneered, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “You know he’s been screwing her for months, and you still won’t let him go?” He pulled me onto his lap so my back was against his chest, then grabbed my chin, forcing me to look out the front windshield. Just then, the elevator doors slid open. Jackson emerged, his arm wrapped protectively around his little lover, his face a mask of tender concern. He was obviously taking her to the hospital. Caleb’s grip tightened on my jaw. “Tell me,” he whispered, his lips brushing against my temple. “What do you think he’d do if I rolled down the window and said hello right now?”

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My mother sent me and my sister home with six quilts each. The cotton was from their own garden, and the quilts were hand-stitched by my father, a man who’s spent a lifetime perfecting his craft. Watching my dad, now in his late sixties, load the heavy bundles into our respective trunks, I had to fight back tears. When we got home, I planned to air them out for a few days, but my daughter, Lily, was completely enchanted. She insisted on sleeping under one that very night. Hours later, she woke up crying, shivering. “Mommy, I’m so cold.” “That’s impossible, sweetie,” I said. “That’s a ten-pound quilt.” The six-pound comforter I bought online would make me sweat in the middle of winter. But Lily was adamant. She was freezing and refused to go back under it. As I was swapping it out for her old comforter, I snagged the new quilt on a nail sticking out of the doorframe. The fabric ripped. Lily pointed into the tear. “Mommy,” she asked, her voice small, “isn’t cotton supposed to be white? Why is the cotton in here black?” 1 It started with a text in the family group chat before Thanksgiving. Mom announced it was going to be a cold winter, so she and Dad were making six quilts for me and six for my sister, Emily. “We grew the cotton ourselves,” she wrote. “And your father stitched every one. Much better than that cheap synthetic stuff you buy online.” She made a point of adding, “Make sure you drive this year. You’ll never get them home on a plane.” Reading her words, a warmth spread through my chest. I turned to my husband, Mark. “Making one quilt is a huge job, let alone twelve. We need to give them something more than just the usual Thanksgiving cash.” Mark got it immediately. “Absolutely. They worked hard. You figure out what’s fair, I’m good with it.” I did some quick math. A good quality, machine-made cotton quilt runs at least $, and you’re not even guaranteed it’s 100% cotton. These were handmade by my parents, with their own organic cotton. The quality and fill would be off the charts. I suggested we give them $1,500. “We can’t let them do all that work for free, right?” “Whatever you think is right, Sarah. I’m with you,” Mark said. So, on the Wednesday before Thanksgiving, Mark and I packed up the car, loaded up our daughter, Lily, and made the long drive to my parents’ house. Along with a thank-you card holding the cash, we brought two bottles of good wine and a fancy cheese basket. My parents were thrilled to have us. We had a wonderful, chaotic Thanksgiving, the way it’s supposed to be. On Sunday, as we were packing up to leave, my parents started hauling the quilts out to the driveway. “Mom, Dad! Let us get that,” I said. Emily and her husband, David, had already left with their son to visit friends, so their car was gone. Mark and I saw my parents making trip after trip and rushed to help. “Nope!” Dad said firmly. “You two don’t do this kind of work. We’ve got it.” I laughed. “What’s to get wrong? It’s six quilts for me, six for Emily. Are they really that different?” At my question, my parents exchanged a quick, silent look. Then my mom fixed me with a serious stare. “What kind of thing is that to say? You and Emily are both my daughters. You think I’d play favorites with a couple of quilts?” Seeing she was genuinely a little hurt, I quickly backpedaled. “Mom, I was just kidding! Of course not.” She feigned annoyance, shoving a pair of quilts into my arms. “Fine. Here are two of yours. You can carry them yourself.” She turned and went back inside for more. I stuffed the two quilts into my trunk, and my mom followed me out, placing the next two she was carrying into the space where Emily’s trunk would have been, ready for her to pick up later. In just a few trips, all twelve quilts were ready. “You should let these air out in the sun for a bit before you use them,” Mom advised as we hugged goodbye. “It’ll make them even warmer.” After they left, I pulled out the envelope. “Mom, you and Dad worked so hard on these. This is just a little something from me and Mark to say thank you.” She started the classic mom protest. “Oh, honey, a mother does things for her children because she loves them, not for money. Take it back! I mean it!” But her hand was already tucking the envelope into her coat pocket. Emily and I had already talked about this. The cotton from their garden could be sold, and prices were high right now. Instead, they’d used almost all of it for us. So we’d agreed to give them a gift that was well above what the raw materials would have cost. Emily was giving them $1,500, too. “Okay, Mom! We’re heading out!” “Drive safe! We love you!” After our goodbyes, Mark and I started the long drive back to the city. Mom was right. It was a brutally cold winter. The moment we walked in the door, Lily started shivering. “It’s so cold! So cold!” Then her eyes lit up. She ran to the pile of quilts we’d just brought in. “Mommy, I want to use my new quilt from Grandma and Grandpa tonight!” “Sweetheart, Grandma said we should let them air out first. They’ll be warmer.” But she wasn’t having it. Lily just turned five, and she has my stubborn streak. It’s a handmade quilt from my parents, I thought. The cotton is clean, the cover is new. What could be the harm? I agreed. Beaming, Lily proudly dragged the heavy quilt to her room, refusing my help. She loved it that much. After tucking her in, Mark and I, exhausted from the nine-hour drive, collapsed into our own bed. Sometime deep in the night, I felt a small hand on my shoulder. I opened my eyes. It was Lily. “Lily-bug, what’s wrong?” I fumbled for the lamp switch. In the soft light, I could see her shivering, tears welling in her eyes. “Mommy, I’m cold.” “Cold?” I said, confused. “But you’re under Grandma’s new quilt. That thing weighs a ton.” I put my hand on her forehead, checking for a fever. Nothing. Her skin was cool to the touch. “I’m really, really cold!” she insisted, her nose running. “Can you put my old comforter back on? Grandma’s quilt is too thin!” Mark was awake now, too. “How can it be thin, Lily?” he asked groggily. “Grandma’s quilt is way heavier than your old one.” Lily, of course, didn’t know the difference between six pounds and ten. She just scrambled into bed between us. “Feel, Mommy! My feet are ice!” “She’s right,” Mark said, tucking her cold feet against his warm stomach. “She’s freezing.” “Better now?” he asked. “Mmmhmm. Daddy’s tummy is like a furnace.” After she warmed up, I asked, “Do you want to sleep in here with us tonight?” I was fully prepared for a night of being kicked by a tiny human. But Lily loved her pink bedroom. “No, I wanna sleep in my own bed. Can you and Daddy go change my blanket?” With a sigh, I crawled out of my warm cocoon and pulled her old comforter from the linen closet. Mark went to retrieve the new quilt from her bed. But he’s always been clumsy. As he lifted it, the quilt snagged on a nail on her doorframe. We heard a loud RRRRIP. My heart sank. The brand-new quilt had a huge gash down the side. “Mark, look what you did! We haven’t even had it for a day, and you’ve ruined it.” I reached for it, but Lily suddenly pointed. “Mommy,” she asked, “isn’t cotton supposed to be white? Why is the cotton in here black?” 2 I followed her gaze to the torn fabric. “It does look black,” Mark mumbled, peering closer. I saw it too, but I didn’t want to believe it. I carried the quilt into the hallway and flipped on the bright overhead light, trying to find a rational explanation. “It’s probably just the dim light in Lily’s room. It’s making it look dark.” Mark didn’t say anything, a thoughtful frown on his face. The light in Lily’s room was actually very bright. Sometimes, when she was scared but refused to leave her own bed, she’d sleep with it on. Tonight, the harsh white light felt accusatory. I rubbed my temples and told Mark to put the quilt back on Lily’s bed. I pulled at the tear. The cover fabric was thin, and with a gentle tug, the rip widened, exposing the filling inside. It was a solid mass of blackish-gray fibers, clumpy and dark, like something you’d find in an old attic wall. Lily’s innocent voice piped up again. “Mommy, my teacher at preschool said cotton grows in big white puffs. Why is Grandma’s cotton black?” A sick feeling churned in my stomach. “Cotton is white, sweetie,” I said quickly. “Grandma must have given us the wrong one by mistake.” Mark reached in and pinched some of the filling between his fingers. He looked at me, his eyes wide with concern. “Sarah, it’s all black. All the way through. We can’t use this.” He started to roll it up. As I helped him, trying to keep the grimy filling from spilling out, I noticed Lily squirming and scratching herself furiously. “Lily, what’s wrong? Are you itchy?” She twisted and scratched, her movements frantic. After a moment, she whimpered, “Mommy, I’m so itchy!” I shoved Mark and the quilt out of the room and scooped Lily up, carrying her into the living room light. Her neck, wrists, and ankles were covered in angry red welts. “My eyes are itchy, too!” she cried. I knew immediately it was an allergic reaction. Thank God we kept children’s Benadryl in the house. I ran to the drawer, but as I pulled it out, I heard Lily’s breathing turn into a series of short, sharp gasps. “Oh, God. It’s an asthma attack,” I yelled to Mark. He had just dumped the quilt outside and came running back in. “Quick! Get her to the car! We don’t have an inhaler!” Lily had never had asthma before, but the clues were undeniable: the filthy quilt, the skin reaction, and now the sudden, severe respiratory distress. Mark stood frozen for a second, staring at Lily’s flushed face. “Mark, now!” I hoisted Lily onto his back, grabbed our wallets and her insurance card from the counter, and snatched the car keys from the hook. “You carry her. I’ll drive.” We flew out the door and down to the parking garage. Time was everything with a severe asthma attack. I threw open the driver’s side door as Mark carefully buckled Lily into her car seat. I floored it, peeling out onto the main road. Mark looked at his phone’s GPS. “Sarah, the nearest major hospital is forty minutes away. Can we make it?” I made a split-second decision. “No. Her breathing is too bad. We don’t have forty minutes. There’s a 24-hour community hospital ten minutes from here. We’ll go there for immediate treatment first.” Mark trusted my judgment and didn’t argue. He watched Lily anxiously while I focused on the road. “Call 911,” I ordered. “Tell them we have a child with a life-threatening allergic reaction and we need to run red lights.” The route to the community hospital had two notoriously long red lights. I couldn’t afford to wait. As I drove, Mark calmly relayed the situation to the dispatcher, who gave us clearance. Just as he hung up, we reached the first light. It was red. This was my commute route; I knew every inch of it. The intersection was a nightmare during the day, but at three in the morning, it was empty. After a quick check, I sped through. Seconds later, the second red light. I was so grateful I’d had Mark make that call. Without hesitating, I hit the gas. Lily’s gasps were getting weaker. “Sarah, her face is getting pale. What do we do?” I forced myself to stay calm. “One more block! We’re almost there!” I pushed the accelerator to the floor. “Call the ER at the hospital. Tell them we have a five-year-old with anaphylaxis-induced asthma and we’re pulling up to the emergency entrance right now. Tell them to be ready.” “Yes!” Mark found the number and made the call. “It’s an allergic reaction! Her face is pale! She’s five! We’re pulling in now!” As he hung up, I swerved into the hospital’s emergency bay, slamming on the brakes with a loud screech. The doors burst open and five medical staff rushed out with a gurney. “Where’s the patient? Let’s get her on oxygen, now!” They had Lily on the gurney before I even had the car in park. I ran to her side. Her face was streaked with tears, her chest heaving. My own heart felt like it was going to stop. “Lily-bug, Mommy’s here. You’re going to be okay,” I whispered. A doctor made a quick assessment. “Airway is closing. This is critical. You got her here just in time. A few more minutes and…” He didn’t finish. He just shouted for more help, and suddenly the gurney was surrounded. They whisked her into the resuscitation room. Mark collapsed onto a chair in the waiting area, his head in his hands. “I’m such an idiot,” he groaned. “I should have checked it before I let her use it.” I sat next to him, my body numb with cold and fear. This wasn’t the time for blame. There was only one thought in my head: my daughter had to be okay. Because if she wasn’t, there was nothing I wouldn’t do. 3 As we sat there, staring at the closed doors of the ER, my phone rang. It was my sister, Emily. “Sarah? Are you guys home? David and I have been knocking on your door for ten minutes.” I had completely forgotten. She’d accidentally taken my purse instead of hers when she left my parents’ house. Seeing my ID inside, they’d driven all the way back to the city to return it. “We’re at the hospital,” I said, my voice cracking. “What? Is Lily okay? What happened? We’re on our way.” A little while later, Emily and David rushed in. “I figured you probably left in a hurry,” Emily said, draping a thick fleece jacket over my shoulders. “We stopped and bought you guys these.” I hadn’t even realized Mark and I had run out of the house in nothing but our pajamas. My feet were completely numb. David handed us two steaming cups of coffee. We forced ourselves to drink, the warmth slowly seeping back into our bodies. “How did this happen?” Emily asked, bewildered. “You’re so careful with Lily’s allergies.” She was right. After a minor incident with a mango pudding when she was four, I’d become hyper-vigilant. “It was the quilt,” Mark said, his voice low and hollow. “The quilt from Mom and Dad. Something’s wrong with it.” Emily was stunned. “The quilt? What are you talking about? That was their own homegrown cotton! Dad picked the best bolls himself. He’s been doing this his whole life. How could there be a problem?” David nodded. “Yeah, are you sure it wasn’t something else?” “We’re sure,” I said. Then a new wave of horror washed over me. I grabbed Emily’s arm, my grip tight. “Emily, your son, Leo. You didn’t let him sleep with his quilt tonight, did you?” My frantic expression scared her. “I… I did,” she stammered. “He was so excited about his new quilt. I thought, it’s from family, it has to be safe. So I put it on his bed.” “Go home! Go home right now and get it off him!” I practically yelled. “I don’t know what happened, but the quilts Mom gave me are filled with black cotton! It’s what did this to Lily!” “That’s… that’s impossible!” Just then, a doctor came out of the resuscitation room, pulling down his mask. “Family of Lily Miller?” All four of us shot to our feet. “We can confirm it was a severe allergic reaction that triggered the asthma attack. You got her here just in time, and she’s stabilized. She’s out of immediate danger, but we want to transfer her to the main hospital for overnight observation.” He handed me the transfer paperwork, then looked at us sternly. “And that quilt you mentioned? Get rid of it. The material inside is dangerously unsanitary. I don’t understand you parents sometimes. Giving your child a blanket made of trash… you don’t look like you’re struggling for money.” We all just nodded, ashamed. We had failed to protect her. The reality of the situation finally hit Emily. She whipped out her phone and video-called her mother-in-law. “Carol, wake up! You have to get the new quilt off Leo’s bed right now!” Her mother-in-law, clearly half-asleep, grumbled, “What are you talking about? It’s the middle of the night. I just got him warmed up.” David snatched the phone. “Mom, just do it. Now. Take the quilt off and put his old one back on.” His mother was notoriously slow-moving. “You’re the ones who wanted him to use it,” she complained. “What could possibly be wrong with a quilt made by his own grandparents?” David didn’t care about our family’s pride anymore. “It’s made of black cotton, Mom! It put Lily in the emergency room! If you don’t hurry, the same thing is going to happen to Leo!” That got her attention. “Black cotton? For God’s sake! Are you serious?” Though her words were skeptical, her actions were frantic. We watched on the small screen as she flipped on the lights and pulled our nephew, Leo, from his bed. He started crying immediately. “Grandma mean! Grandma mean!” “Grandma can be mean later, you need to get up!” she said, pulling a sweatshirt over his head. Then she grabbed the heavy quilt from the bed and threw it onto the living room floor. David breathed a sigh of relief. He was about to hang up when he saw his mother march into the frame holding a massive pair of sewing shears. “Mom, what are you doing?!” “You said it was black cotton!” she declared. “I’m going to cut this piece of garbage to shreds!” “Mom, don’t worry about it now, just go back to bed!” David pleaded. But it was too late. With a determined grunt, Carol plunged the shears into the quilt and ripped. With a few powerful snips, she tore a long gash in the fabric. And then she stopped. She froze, staring down at the quilt. On the phone screen, David went silent. Emily gasped. Mark and I leaned in, staring at the image, completely and utterly stunned.

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My sister gave birth, then skipped the country. So I took the baby she’d abandoned, walked into the lion’s den, and claimed I was the woman who’d spent one-night with the Thorne family heir. And it worked. I parlayed a baby into a life of luxury, becoming the new Mrs. Thorne. Seven years later, my sister came back. She wrapped the boy in a gentle hug, looked at me, and smiled. “You’ve been playing my part long enough,” she said. “It’s time to give it back.” I was quiet for a long time. Then I agreed, with only one condition. “Give me enough money to disappear,” I told her. “Wait until I’m settled somewhere far away before you tell everyone the truth.” Because if Julian Thorne, with his infamous temper and long memory, found out I’d deceived him for seven years… well, he wouldn’t just divorce me. He’d destroy me. 1 “Mom.” Leo was standing at the door, his little backpack slung over his shoulder. “Hey, sweetie.” I smiled and walked over, ruffling his hair. “Tough day at school?” “There was a lady,” he said, his eyes full of uncertainty. “She said she was your sister.” I froze. It took me a second to find my voice. “She looked a little like you,” Leo said, grabbing my hand. “But when I called her ‘auntie,’ she got weird. She said she wasn’t my aunt.” My fingers trembled. “What else did she say?” My voice was a dry rasp. “She told me to tell you I saw her,” he answered dutifully. “And that you’d know how to get in touch.” I leaned against the wall, the world tilting under my feet. Seven years ago. Isabelle had just given birth to Leo and was dead set on leaving. Without the baby. I’d tried to stop her. “You haven’t even recovered from childbirth… Why don’t you just take the baby to the Thornes? He’s their flesh and blood, they won’t turn you away.” Isabelle’s voice cracked. “They never even wanted this baby! I kept him a secret. Do you think they’d ever respect me? Ever let me through the door? The best I could hope for is they take the baby and kick me to the curb!” I didn’t know what to say. “So, what about him?” Her face was stone. “He’ll just hold me back if I take him abroad. Just… leave him on the steps of an orphanage or something.” And then she was gone. On a cold winter day, she left me, and she left her son. I was so broke back then, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t abandon this tiny, wrinkled little person. So I bundled him up, took a bus to the richest part of town, and walked up to the gates of the Thorne estate. I ignored the looks I got—the suspicion, the contempt, the pity. I just said, “I need to see Julian Thorne. I’ve had his child.” It didn’t happen the way Isabelle predicted. They didn’t throw me out. In fact, they invited me in. A DNA test was ordered before I could even sit down. When Julian Thorne finally got home, his mother, the family matriarch, announced coolly, “It seems the Thorne family has an heir.” The man was tall and lean, radiating an unnerving stillness. He gave me a single, dismissive glance. I immediately looked down, my heart pounding. My whole plan was based on one detail Isabelle had told me: it was dark. She and Julian had been in a dark room. He’d never gotten a clear look at her face. But now, with this intensely intimidating man standing right in front of me, I felt my confidence shrivel. I was sure he’d see right through me. Thankfully, Julian didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look at the baby. His mother cleared her throat. “This young woman went through a lot, carrying this child for nine months…” “I’ll marry her,” Julian cut in. The room went silent. I stared at him, dumbfounded. My only plan was to make sure the baby was safe with his real family. I hadn’t thought for a second about what would happen to me. The silence stretched on. Julian’s gaze finally landed on my face, cool and unreadable. “I made the mess,” he said. “I’ll clean it up.” His mother considered this for a moment, rubbing her temples. “Fine. Do what you want. Start planning the wedding.” In that moment, I clutched the fabric of my cheap dress so hard my knuckles turned white. I had no idea what his angle was. He could have any woman he wanted. There was a line of socialites in this city who would kill to be Leo’s stepmother. But he chose me, a woman who supposedly hid his child from him for nine months. Was it for the baby? To give him a complete family? I couldn’t know. But I was just a poor, unlucky girl, and the chance to marry into a world of unbelievable wealth was staring me in the face. I couldn’t turn it down. Besides, the baby was my nephew, my own blood. So, I lifted my chin and met Julian’s gaze with a small, determined smile. “I’ll be a good wife,” I promised. “And a good mother.” And just like that, a lie was born. And it lasted for seven years. 2 “You’re a million miles away.” Julian’s arm was around my waist. He tilted his head, his expression calm and observant. I snapped back to reality, leaning into him. “I was just thinking about Leo,” I murmured. “He’s lost a little weight. He’s going to waste away if he gets any thinner.” Julian frowned, a cool edge to his voice. “You spend too much time focused on him.” With that, he tipped my chin up and kissed me, a possessive move that left no room for argument. He didn’t stop until I was breathless. Then, he pulled me onto his lap. He looked down at me, his eyes sharp. “You’ve got something on your mind.” His perceptiveness always terrified me. But I had my defenses ready. I went back to my usual script. “Leo’s teacher told me he’s having a hard time making friends at school. Do you think… maybe we should find a child psychologist? I’m worried he’s…” “Ava,” Julian cut me off, his eyes dark pools. “You need to get a life of your own.” I paused, then sighed. “Okay.” I sat there on his lap, watching his long fingers fly across the keyboard as he worked. He didn’t press the issue, and I’d dodged another bullet. But Isabelle was back. There was no dodging that. All she had to do was show the Thornes a DNA test proving she was Leo’s mother, and my entire world would shatter. I, the impostor, would be exposed. Days had passed, and I still hadn’t contacted her. I twisted my fingers in my lap, taking a deep breath, then letting it out. In, out. In, out. Julian finally slammed his laptop shut, his patience gone. He narrowed his eyes. “Forget about Leo for a minute. You should be more worried about yourself.” The moment his hand slid up under my nightgown, my mind went clear. I tried to push him away. “Wait, wait, I just remembered I have to—I have to bake something for Leo…” He caught both my wrists with one hand, pinning them above my head. Then he used his other hand to pull the hem of my nightgown up, motioning for me to bite down on the fabric. He smirked. “Too many words, sweetheart.” I glared at him, my protests muffled. He held my hips, his voice a low rumble. “Just like that. It’s cute.” 3 I don’t know how much time passed. I was sprawled on the couch, feeling like a wrung-out dishrag. Julian was already dressed, looking as cool and pristine as ever. He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “I’m heading to the office. Don’t wait up for dinner.” I nodded, too tired to speak. My relationship with Julian was strange. It was more than a marriage of convenience—there were moments of sweetness, of intimacy—but it was far from a passionate love affair. He rarely ate dinner at home and almost never asked about Leo. The only warmth between us seemed reserved for moments like these. And even then, it was fleeting. Outside of the bedroom, we didn’t have much to talk about. I was dozing on the sofa in the master bedroom when I heard the front door open downstairs. Leo was home from school. I slipped on my slippers and went downstairs. “Leo? How come you’re so late to—” My voice died in my throat. Isabelle was standing in the doorway, holding Leo’s hand. My lips moved, but no sound came out. Finally, I managed one word: “Isabelle.” Leo beamed at me. “Mom, she took me to the amusement park after school!” I forced a smile and walked toward him, crouching down to squeeze his cheek. “Was the housekeeper with you? And the driver?” He nodded. “Okay, good,” I said, my voice strained. “But next time, please have them call me first, okay?” Leo nodded again. “I have to say,” Isabelle said suddenly, her voice cool. “You’re surprisingly good at this whole mom thing.” I looked up at her. She hadn’t changed much in seven years. She wore a stylish trench coat and carried a designer bag, looking a world away from the desperate woman who’d fled the city all those years ago. I didn’t answer. She pulled Leo into a gentle hug, then looked at me. “You’ve been playing my part long enough,” she said. “It’s time to give it back.” Her tone was soft enough that Leo didn’t notice anything was wrong. He just blinked, confused. “What part?” I flinched, my fists clenching at my sides. Isabelle leaned in, her voice a whisper only I could hear. “We’re sisters. I’m not going to make a scene about you impersonating me and stealing my life. But if you try to fight me on this, you have no chance of winning.” She straightened up, patting Leo’s shoulder and giving me a tight smile. “Leo,” I said, my voice hoarse. “Did you have fun today?” Leo’s personality was a lot like Julian’s—quiet and reserved. But for once, he had a little smile on his face. He glanced up at Isabelle. “Yeah.” “So…” I struggled to get the words out. “The parent-teacher conference is the day after tomorrow. If… if both of us could go, who would you want to go with you?” He paused. Then, hesitantly, he reached out and took Isabelle’s hand. I was silent for a long time. Then I patted his back. “Go on up to your room and start your homework, okay?” After Leo was gone, Isabelle and I just stood there, staring at each other. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “I’ll leave. Just give me enough money to get settled somewhere far away. Once I’m gone for good, you can tell them the truth.” Otherwise, knowing Julian’s vengeful nature… he would destroy me for lying to him for seven years. Isabelle frowned. “How much?” “I raised your son for seven years,” I said, taking a step back. “A million dollars.” She scoffed. “And here I was almost feeling sorry for you. Selling a child for cash. Classy.” I just stared at her. After a few tense minutes, she said, “Fine. But I only have two hundred thousand right now. It’s enough to get you started. I’ll send you the rest after everything is settled.” “Okay,” I whispered. 4 That night, Julian texted me: *Not coming home tonight.* *Okay, honey,* I typed back, short and sweet. He replied a second later: *?* I stared at the question mark. Usually, when he told me he wasn’t coming home, I’d lay on the “good wife” act. *Don’t work too hard, darling. I’ll be waiting up for you. Will you be home tomorrow?* That kind of thing. But my contract as the perfect wife and mother was about to expire. I was done pretending. I stretched and started packing. As I started filling suitcases, I realized I didn’t want to leave anything behind. The clothes, the jewelry, the bags… they were all precious to me. I had five large trunks sent up to the room. I got so lost in the process that I didn’t even notice when Julian opened the door and leaned against the frame, watching me. It wasn’t until all five trunks were packed and I was stretching my aching back that I looked up and met his deep, unreadable eyes. I froze. “Uh… hi, honey. Good evening. I thought you weren’t coming home?” A slow, terrifying smile spread across his lips. “If I hadn’t, where were you planning on going?” “Oh!” I forced a laugh. “I’ve just been so worried about Leo lately, I haven’t been sleeping well. I decided I needed to get away for a little while, clear my head…” Julian just stared at me for a long moment. But then, unexpectedly, he didn’t press me. He just nodded. “Fine.” I bit my lip. “While I’m gone, you should spend more time with Leo. He’s so quiet, and you two barely talk. And tell the kitchen to make him more steak, he’s a growing boy…” “Ava,” Julian cut me off, a hint of impatience in his voice. “Even without you here, nobody in this house is going to let him starve.” I faltered. “…Right.” There were other things I wanted to say. That I’d been happy here. That his mother had always been kind to me, and that Leo was a wonderful kid. And that I would miss Julian. But I wasn’t the woman he’d slept with that night. And I certainly wasn’t Leo’s mother. I’d had seven years of playing house in a billionaire’s mansion. It was more than I ever deserved. But why… why did it still hurt so much? Julian turned to leave. “Stay away for a while,” he said, his voice flat. “Don’t rush back.” He walked toward his study without a backward glance. My fingers curled into fists. “Okay,” I whispered. 5 The flight was over fourteen hours. The moment I landed and turned on my phone, I got a picture from Isabelle. Leo was sitting next to her, drawing quietly. In the picture he was drawing, a woman with long, wavy hair was holding a cup of coffee. It was Isabelle. I stared at it for a long time. It made sense, I guess. The bond between a mother and child is primal. It was only natural they’d be drawn to each other. *I wish you both happiness,* I texted back. I meant it. Her reply came instantly: *You did a mediocre job raising him.* I wanted to defend myself, to tell her that I had poured my entire soul into being Leo’s mother and Julian’s wife. But I knew she would just see it as an attack. So I deleted my angry response and simply wrote: *Well, he has you now. You can make up for all my mistakes.* She didn’t reply. I settled in a small town on the coast of Portugal. I didn’t know a soul and had to rely on a translation app to get by, but the scenery was as beautiful as a postcard. A few days later, a text came from Julian. *Leo really likes one of his new tutors. I’ve asked her to stay on.* *A live-in tutor?* I asked. *Yes.* I typed: *Okay.* I didn’t need to ask who it was. And it was for the best. It would give them a chance to bond. Isabelle, whose social media had been dormant for years, suddenly started posting pictures of Leo. In them, the little boy would even offer the camera a shy smile. I’d always just thought he was a serious kid. I turned off my phone. For the first few days, I was completely lost. For seven years, my life had revolved around Julian and Leo. I had no time for myself. Suddenly faced with endless free time, I didn’t know what to do other than study the local language. Slowly, methodically, I deleted every picture of Leo from my phone. I forwarded all the contact information for his school and his teachers to Isabelle. Then, I saw it on a gossip site. A picture of Julian and Isabelle walking together, looking very much like a couple. The headline speculated about the chic magazine editor who had captured the elusive billionaire’s attention. Isabelle, it turned out, had become quite successful abroad. The fashion world was buzzing, calling them a “power couple.” I blinked slowly. My chest felt hollow. Of course they were a power couple. They even had a child together. 6 The day the rest of the money hit my account, I moved fast. I logged out of all my social media accounts, deleted them, and swapped the SIM card in my phone for a new one I’d bought weeks ago. Sure enough, just a few hours after the wire transfer went through, the news broke. #ThorneHeir’sRealMotherRevealed was trending everywhere. But by then, no one could reach me. The money was already in a new, untraceable account. I pushed down the complicated knot of feelings in my stomach and took a bite of a warm pastry. The divorce papers I’d signed and left in my bedside table had surely been delivered to Julian by now. From now on, the world was wide open. And I was no longer Mrs. Thorne.

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Ryan broke up with me again. This time, I thought about going to the river to clear my head, just like I did when he first dumped me at eighteen. But the wind off the water was freezing. Screw it, I’m going home. On the way back, I passed a BBQ joint. I figured I’d be too heartbroken to eat, just like when I was twenty. Turns out the guy makes a mean brisket. Finally got home and thought about doing what I’d done at twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four—sending Ryan one of those pathetic “please take me back” essays. But then my boss texted. Business trip. I spent nearly a month in the next city over, practically launching a whole second career. Ryan finally cracked and called me. “Why haven’t you apologized yet?” That’s when I realized I’d forgotten something. Getting older makes heartbreak complicated in weird ways. I tested the waters: “Sorry, sorry—been swamped. Forgot to write the essay.” “So… should we just call it quits?” 1 My friends were talking about how Ryan was planning to propose. Ryan just smiled, all casual about it. “Why would I need to propose? Zoe’s obviously going to marry me.” “When it happens, Maya’s going to be my bridesmaid. She’s been asking me about it forever.” I couldn’t even tell what mattered more to him—marrying me or having his childhood friend Maya as a bridesmaid. I took a sip of water. “I’ve already got bridesmaids lined up. My college roommates. We made a pact—whoever gets married, the rest of us stand up there together.” Ryan didn’t even look at me. “So add another bridesmaid.” “Can’t. There’s four of them. You can’t have an odd number of bridesmaids. It’s bad luck.” He sounded irritated. “Then find someone random. Maya’s never been a bridesmaid. Can’t you just do this one thing for her?” Everyone else had gone quiet. They’d seen us fight like this before. They never got involved because I always ended up apologizing, and Ryan would give me the cold shoulder for a couple days before we made up. Nobody wants to be the clown in someone else’s relationship drama. This time I stood my ground. “No thanks. I want to make my own decisions about my wedding.” Ryan got in my face. “What if I insist?” I didn’t answer, but Ryan got the message. He lost it. “Fine! We’re done, Zoe. Don’t contact me again.” He stormed out, leaving everyone else awkwardly frozen. After I said my goodbyes, people tried to lighten the mood. “Zoe’s got this under control. She’ll get Ryan back. That’s just how guys are—go sweet-talk him and it’ll blow over.” “Zoe, you can’t spoil men like that. The more you baby them, the worse they get. You’ve been way too good to him!” “That wedding date you guys picked was mediocre anyway. Let me have my uncle check his calendar—he’s got a gift. None of the couples whose dates he’s picked have gotten divorced.” I smiled but didn’t say anything. 2 I wandered around alone, trying to clear my head. My mind kept replaying everything between Ryan and me over the years. We’d had crushes on each other in high school, made it official in college. Survived the brutal long-distance phase, made it through the endless adjustments of living together. Every stage had its failures. Every time, I’d fought like hell to fix things. I kept asking myself: why? Is this what love is supposed to be—this humiliating? Shouldn’t love be about compromise? About supporting each other? But every time I decided to leave, another voice would pipe up: “If you quit now, doesn’t that make all those years of effort a complete joke?” So I’d grit my teeth and keep going, hoping I could make him see, hoping we’d actually make it. Lost in thought, I ended up at the river. I used to call it “Tear River” as a joke—it was close to campus, and starting with that first breakup, it had witnessed countless crying sessions over this relationship. But tonight it was freezing. Before I could even get properly melancholy, I had goosebumps. I pulled my jacket tighter. Forget it. I’ll be sad at home. I turned around and spotted the BBQ place. Funny thing—I’d been here plenty of times. Once, after a fight with Ryan, I rage-ordered fifty skewers and couldn’t choke down a single bite. The owner’s skills had seriously improved. I’d just come from dinner but got sucked in by the smell of grilled meat. Didn’t want to repeat history, so I only ordered twenty skewers. Polished them off and realized I could’ve ordered more. When your mouth’s busy and your stomach’s full, your heart doesn’t feel quite so empty. Standing at my front door, I hesitated. We’d lived together so long—every corner of this little place held memories of our life together. But when I opened the door and saw the overflowing trash that nobody had taken out, the empty drink bottles lying around, the shoes scattered everywhere—I felt more angry than sad. The anger seemed to burn up all my tears. After I cleaned everything up, I opened my phone to hide some posts so I wouldn’t torture myself later, and saw my boss had tagged me in the group chat with feedback on my proposal. By the time I closed the document, dawn was breaking. I was shocked to realize the first day after the breakup had just… passed. So in that fresh morning light, I blocked Ryan on everything. 3 Ryan never came back. I knew he was waiting for me to cave. I figured I would too—I’d done it so many times before. Humbling yourself for love stops feeling humiliating after a while. But every time I picked up my phone, something more urgent came up. Either I had to submit a proposal or a client needed something. Before I knew it, eight or nine days had passed without any contact. I’d somehow accomplished something I thought was impossible, and it wasn’t nearly as torturous as I’d imagined. At the morning meeting, my supervisor said we had an important client and needed to send someone to be on-site until the project wrapped—at least a year and a half. I raised my hand without thinking. He looked at me. “Single people get priority.” “I’m single,” I shot back. The whole conference room laughed. Everyone knew about my legendary relationship with Ryan. But when the supervisor asked around, nobody else volunteered. Makes sense—leaving headquarters for that long could make your position awkward when you got back. Career-wise, it wasn’t the smart move. But for me, besides getting some distance from Ryan so I could think clearly about the relationship, the client was in Harbor City—a place I’d always wanted to go. Ryan had never been willing to leave. For him, nowhere was more comfortable than here, so he refused to go anywhere else. He wouldn’t even let me visit Harbor City for vacation. Friends joked that he was afraid I’d go and never come back. I could only smile. In the end, the supervisor picked me—you can’t force someone who doesn’t want to go. Before I left, he warned me repeatedly: “You can’t bail on this, okay? Whatever happens with your boyfriend, you’ve got to see this year and a half through.” I smiled. “Mission accepted.” 4 My first days in Harbor City were genuinely hectic. I worked overtime for two straight weeks, didn’t even have time to find my own place. Just stayed in the hotel the client arranged. It wasn’t until the third weekend that I finally had time to explore. The city looked pretty much like it did in all the blogs and magazines I’d read, but being there in person revealed all these different kinds of beauty. I thought: I made the right call coming here. When my mom called, I was actually surprised. It had been over a year since our last conversation ended badly. They’d started pressuring me to get married at twenty-five and kept at it until I was twenty-eight with no results. Then they actually found Ryan’s contact info on my phone and reached out to him directly. I could imagine how nasty they’d been—Ryan didn’t speak to me for a whole month after that call. My mom has a nice voice, actually. I just don’t know how she manages to say such awful, soul-crushing things with it. “You’re not seriously planning to wait until you’re thirty to get married, are you? We could dig eight generations back in the family tree and not find anyone like you.” “Well, I’m expanding your horizons then.” “I don’t have time for your nonsense. Your sister saw on your social media that you broke up with that Ryan guy. Is it true? You used to make up after a few days, but I’ve been watching—it’s been a while this time. Is it really over?” I said impatiently, “If you’ve got something to say, just say it. Don’t beat around the bush. I’ve got work.” “That temper of yours—just like your father. No wonder you two can’t be in the same room.” “If you don’t get to the point, I’m hanging up.” I heard my mom’s voice rush out: “Don’t hang up! I just wanted to ask—if you’re free this weekend, your aunt set you up with someone. Want to meet him? He works in your city.” “Oh, well, probably not the same city anymore. I forgot to tell you guys—I moved.” 5 My mom’s voice suddenly got louder. “Why are you changing jobs again for no reason? You’ve always been like this since you were little—way too headstrong.” Too tired to argue, I cut to the chase. “Is this guy one of Aunt’s clients or her boss? Or does she have some connection to him? Otherwise she wouldn’t be pushing so hard.” My mom, who’d been so loud a second ago, started hemming and hawing. “Well, he’s the son of your cousin’s boss, but his credentials are really good! Your aunt wouldn’t set you up with someone bad, would she?” I have no idea how she could say that without a shred of shame. If she were standing in front of me, I’d definitely check to see if she was even blushing. “Are you sure about that?” “Do you have to be so sarcastic? So last year your aunt introduced you to someone who was a little inappropriate—she cried and apologized! She really didn’t know about his situation, or why would she have introduced you?” I was too tired to argue. If she didn’t know anything about him, why did she insist on setting us up in the first place? My dear aunt had introduced me to an armed robber. After I refused multiple times, she gave him my address. If Ryan hadn’t come home when he did that night, I don’t know what would’ve happened in that dark stairwell. I only found out later that the guy was the nephew of one of my aunt’s big clients. She’d asked my mom for a photo and sent it without doing any research. When he expressed interest, she immediately handed over my address. The whole thing happened without my involvement. When I wanted to go to the police, my aunt made it clear she wouldn’t testify—she couldn’t afford to offend that big client. So the whole thing just got swept under the rug. And now she’s back at it. “Tell Aunt to stop using me as a bargaining chip. Otherwise when I come home for the holidays and lose my mind, don’t say I’m mentally ill.” “You ungrateful child!” 6 The moment I hung up, everything felt peaceful. I’d never realized how wonderful a quiet environment could be. I efficiently finished revising a proposal and dropped it in the work chat. The client team responded with a stream of praise emojis that made me feel pretty good about myself. I posted on social media: Another day of crushing it. I’d always had decent social connections, but I was surprised by how much engagement this post got. Lots of friends left comments. Zoe’s all about her career now! I tried to meet up with you all week and you were too busy. Turns out you were home working? Still working? Your castle walls are about to fall, you know that? Why haven’t you deleted that breakup post yet? Haven’t you guys made up? Did you not put enough effort into the surprise this time? You’re totally ignoring us strategic advisors. I replied to each one: Been on a business trip. Let’s hang when I’m back. My heart is the castle, and it’s empty. We didn’t make up. Right after I replied, my phone rang. It was the girlfriend of one of Ryan’s buddies—we used to have dinner together a lot. “Where have you been living it up, Zoe?” “Just working. Pretty busy lately.” She paused, then said quietly, “Are you on a business trip? I stopped by your place the other day and knocked, but you weren’t home.” “Yeah, I’m out of town. Did you need something?” She quickly said, “No, no, just haven’t seen you in a while. Wanted to grab dinner.” “Sure, I’ll call you when I’m back from this trip.” “Sounds good!” I was about to hang up when I heard her say, “Have you heard about Ryan and Maya lately?” I told the truth. “Not really. Been really busy.” I didn’t want to engage, but she kept going anyway. “Ryan and Maya have been super public lately. They’re showing up together at all these parties. I heard Ryan gave her a huge diamond ring for her birthday!” “Everyone’s speculating about whether they’re getting together. Ryan hasn’t confirmed anything. We all figured he’s still waiting for you to apologize!” I found myself laughing. Before she could continue, I asked, “What exactly did I do wrong?” She hesitated. “Huh? But you’ve always been the one to apologize before. I thought this time you’d also—” “I apologized because I still cared. But what if I don’t care anymore?” I heard a loud door slam on her end. And Ryan’s friend yelling, “Ryan!”

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Mom called about her birthday, asking me to come home for dinner. I wanted to catch a ride with my sister, but she said she wasn’t going until tomorrow. I thought she’d gotten the date wrong, but my daughter cut straight to the truth: Every time there’s a family dinner, Grandma makes you come back early because she needs you to shop, prep food, and clean the house. Look at Aunt’s family—they show up the day of, get out of the car, and go straight to eating. I was stunned, because what my daughter said made way too much sense. 1 I was scrolling through my sister’s social media when I saw she’d taken her family on a trip. I looked at the photos and hit like, then accidentally noticed something in one picture—the necklace my sister was wearing looked familiar. I opened the photo and zoomed in to check the details. Finally confirmed it was the necklace I’d bought for my mom last week. Last week, my aunt had a birthday and invited a bunch of relatives over. My cousin gave Aunt a gold necklace as a birthday gift. Aunt was thrilled, showing it off nonstop, taking photos and videos. In all the cheerful atmosphere, I noticed Mom hadn’t laughed too loudly. She just kept staring at Aunt. More specifically, staring at the necklace around Aunt’s neck. I understood that look in Mom’s eyes. It was envy. My first thought was that Mom had never owned a gold necklace in her life. When she married Dad, he was poor and couldn’t afford the traditional jewelry set. He only bought her a gold ring. Mom said the ring was inconvenient for doing housework, so she rarely wore it. I understood Mom’s expression. I knew she wanted a gold necklace too. Work had been going well lately—I’d gotten $30,000 from a project bonus. My husband’s salary was stable and completely covered our household expenses. So normally I kept my salary and bonuses for myself. It was just a gold necklace. Right after dinner, I went to the jewelry store and bought one for fifteen hundred dollars. With the clerk’s help, I picked a style that older people would love. I happily gave it to Mom. “Mom, Aunt only gets one because it’s her birthday. You get one even without a birthday, because you like it, and I’ll definitely buy it for you.” Mom’s face lit up with a smile. She praised me for being filial, then put it on. I thought Mom was satisfied and happy. But I never expected that in just one week, the necklace would end up around my sister’s neck. My heart sank with an indescribable feeling. A coworker had told me before that Mom favored my sister. I hadn’t taken it to heart. Because I figured we were all family—mother and daughters, sisters—why keep score? But Mom had just handed off my gift to my sister like that. It really bothered me. So for several days, I didn’t say anything in the family group chat. Another week passed. That Saturday, Mom showed up at my door. She was carrying bags and bags, breathing heavily. “Scarlett, come help me out. Bringing all this stuff wore me out.” I rushed over to help, curious. “Mom, what is all this?” Mom changed her shoes and opened the bags to show me. “Look, your favorite pickled radish, and the oyster pancakes I made for you, plus fried fish.” Seeing all this food, I was touched. “Mom, why go to all this trouble? You must have gotten up super early.” Mom smiled. “It’s no trouble at all.” She sat on the sofa and chatted with me for a bit before saying, “Scarlett, about last time—Mom was wrong.” I didn’t respond. Mom continued, “Mom was really happy you bought that gold necklace, and I loved it. But Mom’s old now—what use do I have for that thing? Your sister’s not doing as well as you. She’s got bad judgment, married a useless man who’s all talk and no action, no steady job or income. They’re still renting.” “You’ve got good judgment. You found someone like Chen—bought a house and car, gave you the full jewelry set at your wedding, gave you and my granddaughter a stable life. You’re better than your sister in every way. You’re more fortunate than her, so Mom’s heart wants to favor your sister a little more.” “She didn’t even get gold jewelry at her wedding. Mom couldn’t stand seeing her suffer, so I gave her the necklace.” “Mom knows you’re upset, but Mom wants to tell you—you and your sister are equally important to me.” Hearing Mom’s words, my resolve started to waver. I’d thought Mom only loved my sister and not me, which was why she’d handled my gift that way. Turns out Mom had her reasons. I sighed. “Fine, Mom. Let’s just move past it.” Mom’s expression finally relaxed. She nodded. Around noon, I went out to buy groceries, planning to have Mom stay for lunch. When I got back, I heard voices in my daughter’s room. My daughter Sunny had interest classes on Saturday mornings. I got closer and heard Mom’s voice. “Sunny, how did your mother raise you to be so stingy?” “I see your closet is full of these dolls. What’s wrong with giving a few to your cousin Hao? He’ll thank you.” Sunny’s voice came through. “What do I need his thanks for? Is he some important person? I don’t want his thanks.” Mom’s voice carried some anger. “Sunny, that’s not right. Good children know how to share!” Sunny’s tone was firm. “Sharing is voluntary. Forced sharing is moral blackmail!” My daughter was only in third grade, but she was outgoing and clear-headed—something I’d always been proud of. Seeing my daughter wouldn’t give in, Mom reached out to grab the dolls. I pushed the door open. “Mom, what are you doing?” Mom looked embarrassed for a moment, then said, “Scarlett, you need to discipline Sunny. She has so many identical dolls—what’s wrong with sharing a few with Hao?” I shook my head. “No.” Mom’s expression changed. “Scarlett, your sister’s family isn’t like yours. Your nephew doesn’t have as many toys as Sunny…” I cut Mom off. “Mom, you taking my things to give to my sister—I let that go because they were gifts for you, so you had the right to decide who gets them. But everything in this room belongs to Sunny. I have no right to decide to give them away for her, and you shouldn’t pressure the child either.” Sunny happily grabbed my hand. “Mom’s the best.” She looked at Mom. “Grandma’s mean.” Mom’s face turned ugly. She turned and started gathering her things. When she got to the door, she lingered, clearly wanting me to ask her to stay for lunch. But I was genuinely upset and didn’t extend the invitation. After Mom left, I sat on the sofa feeling miserable. Sunny came out and sat beside me. “Mom, you were so cool just now, you know that?” I looked at her. “What do you mean?” Sunny smiled. “Mom used to always listen to Grandma. Whatever Grandma told you to do, you’d do it even if you didn’t want to. Every time we went to Grandma’s house, Dad and I felt so stifled. But Dad told me Mom had it hard too, and to just bear with it.” “Mom, you finally realized you can push back. You’re amazing.” Hearing Sunny’s words made my heart ache. “Sunny, you think Grandma favors Aunt too, don’t you?” Sunny shook her head. “Not favors—her whole heart is with Aunt.” At those words, I felt like my brain had crashed. Sunny pointed at the stuff on the table. “Mom, your tastes changed a long time ago. You used to like pickled radish probably because there wasn’t anything else to eat—you needed something to go with rice, so you ate pickled radish. But Grandma still only brings you pickled radish after all this time. She doesn’t pay attention to you at all.” “And the oyster pancakes and fried fish—Mom, look at this.” Sunny pulled out her phone to show me. It was my sister’s social media post. Thanks to Mom for bringing fried yellow croaker and oyster pancakes so early this morning. Kids with a mother’s love are so blessed. I opened the image. The yellow croaker was huge—a whole big bag of them fried. The oyster pancakes were plump and full. The oyster pancakes Mom brought me looked like broken scraps—all chives and batter, barely any oyster meat visible. I picked up my phone and scrolled. “How come I didn’t see this?” Sunny smiled. “Aunt blocked you. Good thing she doesn’t know this account is mine—probably forgot to label it.” Hearing this, my heart filled with bitterness. Sunny hugged my arm to comfort me. “Mom, accepting that your parents don’t love you is really hard. But Mom, you still have me and Dad. We’re your crew, absolutely loyal to you!” I hugged my daughter, moved to tears. From that day on, I didn’t contact Mom or my sister. When Mom complained in the group chat that the washing machine wasn’t working well, I pretended not to see it. When she complained the fridge seemed broken, I ignored that too. I even stopped paying the water and electric bills for her. I wanted Mom to understand—I was kind, I was filial, but I wasn’t a fool. Time flew by. Two months passed. Mom suddenly called me, saying next Wednesday was her birthday and asking me to come home for dinner. She told me she’d bought lots of food I loved, asked me not to be mad anymore about asking Sunny for toys last time, and to bring my husband and Sunny so we could all have a good time together. I agreed. I didn’t actually want to go, but it was Mom’s birthday and lots of relatives would be there. If I didn’t show up, I’d probably get interrogated by everyone. My car happened to have driving restrictions that day, so I messaged my sister asking what time she was leaving so she could pick me up. But my sister sounded surprised. “Sis, Mom’s birthday is the day after tomorrow. How could you forget our own mother’s birthday?” I froze and glanced at the calendar. She was right! The birthday was the day after tomorrow. Why had Mom told me to come tomorrow? Sunny was watching TV nearby. Seeing my confused expression, she couldn’t help but speak up. “Mom, think about it. Lots of times before, Grandma called you back early, didn’t she? Wasn’t it always to have you and Dad clean, shop for groceries and fruit?” “Aunt’s different. Aunt always arrives right on time and goes straight to eating.” “Mom, don’t you get it?” I froze, then thought back over all the past incidents. Suddenly I understood everything. I messaged my sister: Oh yeah, I got it mixed up. My memory! I’ll come the day after tomorrow too. I deliberately turned off my phone, planning to turn it back on the next day. That way Mom couldn’t keep calling me today. I also told my husband and daughter to turn off their phones too. We’d turn them back on the day after tomorrow. In between, I had no idea how many times Mom tried to call me. On Mom’s actual birthday, I timed it perfectly and set out with my husband and daughter right at mealtime. On the way, my husband asked with some concern, “It’s Mom’s birthday today. Are you really going back empty-handed?” I smiled. “Empty-handed? Didn’t I buy Mom a cake?” I pointed to the birthday cake I was carrying. An $8 clearance cake. My husband glanced at it, seemed about to say something, but held back. Because in the past, I’d really cared about Mom’s birthdays. I’d ordered every birthday cake. Two-tier, three-tier—I’d ordered them all. Because Mom’s birthdays meant inviting a bunch of relatives, and I didn’t want Mom to lose face in front of them. So the cakes would be very fancy. But this year, when I went to the cake shop to choose, all I could see was the huge yellow croaker and plump oyster pancakes from my sister’s social media. Even if my sister’s family situation wasn’t as good as mine, was that my fault? Why give away what I bought for her to my sister? Why treat us so differently, even with a few fish? I lost my enthusiasm for picking a cake and just grabbed a clearance one. My house was about a forty-minute drive from Mom’s. When we arrived, several cars were already parked outside. Looked like the relatives had arrived. My husband, daughter, and I got out and went into the yard. My aunt saw me first and quickly greeted me. “Scarlett, you’re here?” I called out, “Aunt.” Mom heard my voice and hurried out from inside. “Scarlett, why couldn’t I reach your phone? Chen’s too, and Sunny’s—none of you answered.” Seeing Mom’s reproachful look, I said, “We went out to handle something and didn’t bring our phones.” Mom clearly didn’t believe this flimsy excuse, but with so many relatives around, she couldn’t scold me. She just pulled me along. “Now that you’re here, come help. I’ve been working myself to death for half the day.” I turned to look at my sister, who was eating fruit and playing on her phone, and said angrily, “Ruby, what are you doing? Mom’s exhausted in the kitchen and you’re just sitting here on your phone?” My sister looked stunned. Mom quickly stepped forward. “Why are you calling her out? She doesn’t know how to do anything.” 2 I said nothing, just looked at Mom. Didn’t move, didn’t speak. Mom seemed to sense something was off with me and said helplessly, “Fine, if you don’t want to help, don’t. Why drag your sister into it?” I turned and left, heading to the front yard. Soon after, Mom came looking for me again. “Scarlett, didn’t Mom tell you to come back yesterday?” I smiled. “I almost got the date wrong. I asked my sister, and she said she was coming today, so I came today too.” “Mom, why did you tell me and my sister different times to come home? Is there some special reason?” Mom looked embarrassed. “Look at you, always overthinking. What special reason could there be? Maybe I just said it wrong.” “But Scarlett, look at all these people eating. I can’t manage it all. You’ve always been the most filial. Come help me.” I could see Mom just wanted to boss me around and couldn’t bear to let my sister lift a finger. So I stood up directly and said loudly, “Mom, you’re right—it’s too tiring for you to do everything alone. How about this—everyone get up and help, so we can eat sooner, right?” With me saying that, everyone felt too awkward to keep sitting and got up to help. With all the relatives standing, my sister naturally couldn’t keep sitting and playing on her phone. She had to pull her husband up too. I went to the kitchen to help sort vegetables. Looking out the window, I saw my husband cleaning fish. My brother-in-law was standing nearby watching. Looking like he didn’t want to lift a finger. It made me angry. I opened the window and yelled at my brother-in-law, “Brother-in-law, the kitchen’s out of coal. Go outside and carry in a bag.” I spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear. Mom heard and quickly stood up to intervene. “Your brother-in-law doesn’t have the strength to carry coal. Chen, stop cleaning fish and go carry it.” My husband, obedient as always, stood up to go. I suddenly shouted, “Don’t you dare!”

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My childhood best friend’s roommate was about to ask me out. My best friend, Liam, pulled him aside. “Dude, are you serious? You really want to ask her out?” His roommate, Noah, just nodded, confused. “I know she’s into you, but you’re about to get with Chloe, the campus queen. I figure if I try hard enough, I might have a shot.” Liam’s face went from red to white and back again. Finally, he burst out, “You’re such a dumbass! How could you like that tomboy? In high school, she took down three guys by herself. And you have no idea how much of a slob she was as a kid!” By the time I showed up, all that was left was a giant bouquet of roses stuffed in the trash can. Liam sauntered over, slinging an arm over my shoulder with a smug grin. “Don’t get too emotional. I know you’re still obsessed with me, so I did you a favor…” My face was a storm cloud. I lifted my hand and slapped him. Hard. 1 Liam clutched his cheek, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Ava, what the hell is wrong with you?” He stumbled back a few steps, his face flushing with anger. I guess it made sense. Liam had always been the golden boy. Spoiled by his family, praised by his teachers. Now in college, with his natural talent and a face that was just unfairly handsome, he was practically worshiped by every girl on campus. This was probably the first time in his life he’d ever been hit. I didn’t regret it. I stuck my chin out, glaring at him. “What’s wrong with *you*? Who do you think you are, making my decisions for me?” My chest heaved with fury. Liam stared at me for a second, then his eyes drifted down to my outfit. A slow, cruel smile spread across his face. “Well, well. Looks like you took Noah’s big confession pretty seriously.” He looked me up and down, making two sharp “tsk, tsk” sounds. “Was it really worth it? Changing your whole style just for some guy you barely know?” He leaned in, his face just inches from mine. A warm, woodsy scent washed over me, and his breath hitched against my cheek. My own face flushed, and I completely forgot how to breathe. “You… you…” I stammered, unable to finish the sentence. “Then again,” Liam said, his smile turning wicked. “You knew he was my roommate. You knew I’d be here. You wore this for me, didn’t you?” “But—” his tone shifted, dripping with disdain, “—you’re better off in cargo pants. Your calves are thicker than mine. A dress just puts all your flaws on display. It looks so… wrong. Like…” He snapped his fingers. “Like a dude in a dress!” I was used to his brutally honest critiques. But this time was different. My roommates had hyped me up, given me the courage to finally try something new. And in a single night, he had doused my flickering confidence with a bucket of ice water. I was done putting up with it. I drove my knee up, hard, right between his legs. In the middle of the crowded path in front of the dorms, Liam was too proud to scream. His face turned purple as he choked back the pain. “Ava,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “You break the family jewels, and your dream of marrying me is officially over!” A wave of bitterness washed over me. I stretched my lips into a smile that was all teeth. “Get lost,” I spat. “We’re done.” 2 Liam was used to being the center of attention. Tall, handsome, he always had eyes on him. Even now, people were slowing down to stare. He straightened up, trying to maintain his dignity. His voice was hoarse. “You think we’re still kids? Threatening to end our friendship? How childish can you be?” He scoffed and turned to leave. “I’m not gonna fight with a girl. I’ll let it slide. Just don’t come crying to me when you have to carry your own luggage home for break.” “I’m serious,” I said, each word a block of ice. I pulled out my phone. Right there, in front of him, I blocked his number and unfriended him on every platform. 3 I spun on my heel and marched into the dorm. “Ava!” Liam’s voice, tight with fury, followed me. “Fine! You’re really ending our friendship over some random guy? Don’t come crawling back to me!” My steps faltered. I looked down at the clean, white dress I was wearing. And then the stupid tears started to fall. He was right, of course. I had dressed up because I knew he’d be there. I wanted to surprise him. More than that, I wanted him to see that someone else could actually like me. That I, Ava, was desirable. But when I’d excitedly come downstairs, the first thing I heard was Liam trashing me to his friend. “Don’t let the long hair fool you. She only recently started looking like a girl. Her hair used to be shorter than mine. She was more of a dude than I was.” “Noah, man, come on. You’re a decent guy. How could you be so blind as to fall for *her*?” My smile froze. I ducked back around the corner, out of sight. I heard Noah’s anxious reply. “No, man, I think Ava’s really cute. And she’s so real, you know? Not fake at all. Just looking at her makes me feel happy.” Then, Noah’s voice got quieter, more serious. “Liam… you don’t want me to ask her out… It’s not because you like her, is it?” “No way!” Liam’s handsome face twisted in disgust. “I don’t have a weird thing for my bro!” As if to prove his point, he pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his photo album. “Look, this is her at ten. All the other girls are in princess dresses, and she’s got snot running down her face. This is our middle school graduation. All the girls are so delicate and pretty. And then there’s Ava. She got obsessed with shot put and shaved her head. In high school, these three jocks? She took them all down with her bare hands…” I bit my lip, my hands twisting the fabric of my dress. I didn’t have the courage to jump out and argue. Because everything he was saying was true. When I finally pulled myself together, all I found was a huge bouquet of red roses in the trash can. And a new text on my phone. [Something came up. Sorry, Ava.] 4 Back in my dorm room, my roommates all leaned out of their bunk beds, their heads popping into view. They swarmed me, all talking at once. “So? Did you blow everyone away?” “Ava, say something! Did you land Noah or Liam?” When they saw my blank expression, Maya immediately clammed up, then quickly changed the subject. “The campus confessions page is going crazy. Chloe is planning to ask Liam out. They’ve been flirting for so long, I bet they’ll be official by tomorrow.” She gently took my arm, trying to sound casual. “It’s okay, Ava. Noah is really sweet, and he’s tall. I think you should give him a chance…” The room suddenly went quiet. My sniffles had turned into full-blown sobs. I wiped my eyes. “I’m sorry, Maya,” I choked out. “I got tears on your white dress. I’ll… I’ll wash it and give it back to you tomorrow…” The three of them exchanged a look. Then they started ranting. “Ugh, those guys are so blind! We’re too good for them anyway!” “That Liam, what’s so great about him? So he’s a little handsome. He’s arrogant and loud and totally doesn’t deserve you!” “Yeah! And that Noah guy is so skinny. You could knock him over with one punch, Ava…” I looked up at them. And started crying even harder. 5 Once I calmed down, I told them everything. And I told them, with absolute conviction, that I was done with Liam for good. They were all behind me. “It’s about time you saw the light.” “You’re usually so chill, but when it comes to Liam, you just lose all common sense.” “Come on! Let’s go for a run. Get those endorphins pumping and forget those idiots!” So that’s what I did. I threw myself into my life. The second I felt a thought about Liam creeping in, I’d head to the gym. Basketball, running, even shot put. A week later, I was in the dining hall when I saw them. Liam and Chloe. Liam’s long, elegant fingers were carefully peeling a shrimp for her. The usually loud, cocky guy was being so gentle and attentive. 6 I was with my roommates, sitting far across the room. I turned my back to them, determined to ignore them. Halfway through the meal, Maya kicked me under the table. “Ava,” she whispered, “I think… I think Liam is walking over here…” “No way,” I said without even thinking. He was too proud. He would never come to me. “Ava.” That familiar voice came from right above me. My chopsticks paused in mid-air. I stiffly raised my head and saw Liam standing there, looking awkward. “Chloe wanted to meet you.” I swallowed my food and finally looked at the beautiful girl standing beside him. Long, straight black hair, pale skin, a delicate, graceful build. She had two dimples when she smiled. “Hi, I’m Chloe,” she said, giving a little bow and extending her hand. “Liam’s told me so much about you. How you two grew up together, like two peas in a pod. Best bros, right?” Maybe it was just me, but the way she emphasized “best bros” felt… pointed. Passive-aggressive. I frowned but shook her hand politely. “Hi.” I didn’t look at Liam. I quickly turned my gaze back to my food. “Nice to meet you,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m done eating. I’m gonna go.” Suddenly, Chloe let out a sharp hiss of pain and snatched her hand back. Before I could even react, Liam shoved me. My lower back slammed into the sharp corner of the table. A jolt of pain made me break out in a cold sweat. He stood in front of Chloe, his voice ringing with self-righteous anger. “What did you do?” He grabbed Chloe’s hand, his eyes full of concern. “Does it hurt?” 7 I stared at the scene in complete disbelief. Chloe, with tears welling in her eyes, just shook her head bravely. “You’re insane,” I muttered. I turned to leave with my roommates. Liam blocked my path. “Our fight is our business. Why are you taking it out on Chloe?” His eyes were cold, completely devoid of any warmth. “If you’re jealous, take it out on me! You’re strong enough to bench press a guy. What’s the point of picking on a girl who’s half your size?” My roommate was about to lunge at them, the word “bitch” already on her lips, but I stopped her. “Never argue with an idiot,” I said, picking up my tray. I forced a smile. “Let’s go.” 8 I should have understood it a long time ago. Liam didn’t like me. He just didn’t. It didn’t matter what I did or who I became, he would never like me. In his eyes, I was just… there. The little tagalong who was always trailing behind him. I don’t know if he had actually forgotten or was just pretending not to remember. The reason I fought those three guys with everything I had was to defend him. To make them stop bullying him. And when I was a kid, my mom was always away on business trips. There was no one to braid my hair, no one to teach me how to be a girl. It was Liam who brought me to his house every day. Who puffed out his chest and said, “My mom is your mom.” But I had forgotten. People change. 9 “Are you okay?” Maya watched me nervously. “If you’re not over him, you could… I mean, they’re not officially a couple yet…” “I’m really over him.” I rubbed my bruised back and gave her a bitter smile. “It’s weird. I’ve liked him for years, and then, in that one second… it just disappeared.” My roommates stared at me, unconvinced. I held up my hand to the sky. “I swear, I am so over Liam!” I was so focused on reassuring them that my voice got louder than I intended. I didn’t notice Liam, standing right behind me, his eyes turning red at my words. 10 After that disaster, I didn’t see Liam at all. I did, however, see a lot of posts from Chloe. Pictures of her and Liam walking side-by-side, her looking up at him adoringly. They looked perfect together. I didn’t care. Until that weekend, when an anonymous post appeared on the campus confessions page: [This is Ava. Noah, I like you! Meet me on the track at 8 PM tonight!] No pictures. No videos. Not even a screenshot of a text. But the page exploded anyway. [Isn’t that Liam’s childhood friend? What’s going on with her and Noah?] [Is this some kind of game? She knows Liam and Chloe are about to be official, so she’s going after his roommate to make him jealous?] [OMG! This girl is a master manipulator! I’m heading to the track now to grab a front-row seat. I am not missing this drama!] My hand was shaking as I scrolled through the comments. I knew instantly who was behind it. I unblocked Liam and called him. He answered, his voice laced with lazy amusement. “Well, if it isn’t Ava. Didn’t we break up? It’s only been a few days. Couldn’t stay away, huh?” I held back my rage, my voice low and tight. “You posted that, didn’t you?” 11 “I did,” he admitted without a hint of hesitation. “What’s up? Calling to thank me?” His voice was as smooth and sexy as ever. But now, all I felt for him was disgust. “Liam, what is your problem? I’m leaving you alone. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?” He paused, then chuckled. “I don’t have a problem. You were mad at me because I ruined Noah’s big confession, right? I get it, it’s not every day someone asks you out. I figured, for old time’s sake, I’d give you a little push in the right direction.” Before I could reply, he said, “Oh, right. I forgot. Noah is coming out with us for drinks tonight. So he probably won’t be at the track. Maybe you should come find us instead?” Just then, my phone buzzed with a text from Noah. In the two seconds I was distracted, Liam’s voice dripped with false sympathy. “Oh, wait. I forgot again. You scared Noah off. Even if he wasn’t busy, he wouldn’t show up to meet you. But hey, how about this? Call me your big, strong hero, and I’ll take the post down.” I didn’t say anything. I was staring at the new message on my screen. It was from Noah. [Hey, I’m really sorry about the other day. I thought Liam was finally realizing he liked you… I guess I figured, between the two of us, you’d obviously choose him, so… But I’ll see you at the track at 8 PM. I’m going to make sure everyone knows that *I’m* the one who likes *you*. That *I’m* the one chasing you.]

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I started dating a guy who was on a full-ride scholarship, the kind for students with serious financial need. A month after we made it official, he told me he’d unenrolled from the university’s financial aid program. I was stunned. “What about your living expenses next month?” My boyfriend, Ben, just grinned. “Well, there’s you, right? Your family’s loaded. Better to let someone who actually needs the spot have it.” Right. So I wasn’t here for a relationship. I was his new financial aid package. 1 “Babe, this omakase place has amazing reviews and the pictures look incredible. I’m taking you this weekend.” I stared at the link Ben sent me, a little confused. I thought things were tight for his family. As far as I knew, he was still on a work-study program and received grants to cover his costs. Why was he suggesting a sushi place that was easily $200 a person? Was he trying to impress me on our first “real” date? “Honestly, those fancy sushi places are more for the Instagram post than the food,” I texted back. “The taste is usually just okay. We don’t have to spend that much. We could just grab burgers or tacos somewhere.” “No way,” he replied instantly. “This is our first official date since I won you over. We can’t just do something ‘whatever.’ We’re going. The reviews are great, it can’t be bad.” Hearing that, I dropped it. I’d actually been to that place a few times, and the food was genuinely good. I only suggested something else because I was worried about the price gap between us. “Okay, then. Should I meet you there, or are you picking me up?” “I’ll come to your side of campus. Just call an Uber when it’s time and I’ll meet you by your dorm. I can’t have my girl walking all that way to find me.” I won’t lie, that made me feel a little warm inside. Ben and I had only gotten together last week. We weren’t even in the same college within the university. We met by chance during a university-wide business case competition. He was our team leader—focused, responsible, and a natural leader. Even though he didn’t come from money, he worked harder than anyone. He led our team all the way to first place. During that time, he asked me out. I actually said no at first. But after his relentless, charming pursuit, I—a girl who had never even been on a date before—finally caved. That’s how we got together. No flowers, no grand romantic gesture. We were just in the student union food court, and for the tenth time, he looked me dead in the eye and said, “Clara, I really like you. And whether you like me back or not, I’m not giving up.” I looked into his sincere, intense eyes and finally nodded. “Okay,” I said. “Let’s give it a try.” He broke into a huge grin and pulled me into a hug. And just like that, we were official. 2 Our dorms were on opposite ends of the campus. I was near the south gate, he was by the north. It’s a good fifteen-minute bike ride. The fact that he offered to come all the way to me… I thought, maybe this could really be nice. He seemed so thoughtful. The next day, I called an Uber Black right at our agreed-upon time. I watched the little car icon on my phone get closer and closer, but Ben was nowhere in sight. “How much longer?” I texted. “Almost there! Just got to the athletic fields!” “The fields? Ben, you need to hurry, the driver is almost here.” “I’m walking, not biking.” “What? We were supposed to meet at nine. It’s 9:05, and you’re still at the fields? On foot?” “Babe, just have the driver wait for a minute. I’ll walk faster, I can be there in ten.” “The driver charges extra for wait time, and it’s an Uber Black, it’s not cool to make them wait forever. Can you just grab one of those electric scooters? You can still make it.” “Ugh, those scooters are such a rip-off. It’s like, three dollars for a ten-minute ride!” I was getting annoyed but didn’t know what to say. Was I supposed to call him out over three dollars? Or ask why he couldn’t have just left his dorm fifteen minutes earlier? I closed my eyes and sighed. It was our first date. I didn’t want to start a fight. I opened Venmo and sent him $5. “Just grab a scooter and get here.” Ben accepted the payment instantly. “Thanks, sugar mama! Will work for food 😉 (winking cat emoji)” I frowned at the message. It left a weird taste in my mouth, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. Two minutes later, Ben on a scooter and my Uber arrived at the exact same time. I gave him a look. He was late, and I was still a little irritated. 3 Then, he pulled a bagel out of his jacket pocket. “Babe, you were up so early, I bet you haven’t eaten. Here, I got this for you.” Seeing him carefully present the still-warm bagel, my annoyance melted away. I took it and had a bite. “It’s good, right?” he said, beaming. “I got you an everything bagel with cream cheese. They’re like, three bucks each.” Okay. So he wouldn’t spend three dollars on a scooter to be on time, but he’d spend three dollars on a bagel for me. Seeing that he was at least thoughtful, I decided to let it go. “Babe, why’d you get an Uber Black?” he asked as we got in the car. “They’re so much more expensive than a regular one. You could’ve saved that money for something else later.” “They’re cleaner and more comfortable,” I said simply. “Wow. My first time in an Uber Black is because of you. What did I ever do to deserve a girlfriend like you?” I just smiled and didn’t answer. 4 We had some time before our reservation, so we decided to stop by a Whole Foods nearby. I grabbed a cart and started tossing in my usual snacks. I also got a huge container of pre-cut watermelon. Ben’s eyes went wide as he looked at my overflowing cart. “Babe, what’s your monthly allowance? You’re buying so much stuff.” I thought for a second. “My mom gives me two thousand, and my dad usually slips me another grand. And I have a separate card for clothes and stuff.” “Whoa, you really are a sugar mama,” he said. “My parents send me two hundred bucks a month, and I make another two hundred from my work-study job. You get like, ten times what I do.” Hearing that, I felt a pang of guilt. “Hey, maybe we should just get some spicy noodles instead? I know a great place that’s super cheap and really good.” But he just waved his hand dismissively. “What’s the fun in that? I’ve never had real omakase before. Our first official date has to be special.” Since he was so insistent, I gave in. I figured I could just help him out a bit more with his expenses once we were back at school. Plus, his birthday was coming up. I could get him a really nice gift. I noticed that after a full lap of the store, he hadn’t picked out anything for himself. “Aren’t you getting anything?” I asked. “Me? Oh, okay. Thanks, babe!” Thanks for what? I quickly found out. 5 Ben went into what I can only describe as “supermarket sweep” mode. Instant ramen, energy drinks, snacks, fruit—he was throwing things into the cart like they were free. “Okay, let’s go,” he finally said. “It’s almost time for our reservation. Let’s check out.” I nodded and followed him to the register. “Is this all together?” the cashier asked. I was about to say we should split it, but Ben spoke first. “Yep, all together! Can we get two large bags, please?” “That’ll be $386.50. Who’s paying?” I glanced at Ben, who was busy bagging the groceries. I sighed. “I’ll get it.” “Would you like delivery?” the cashier asked. “Yes, plea—” “No, no, we’re good!” Ben cut me off. “We can carry it.” He immediately hoisted the two massive bags. I tugged on his sleeve, confused. “Why not get it delivered?” “Delivery costs extra, dude! And they only bring it to the campus gate. It’s better if you just Venmo me the delivery fee and I’ll carry it straight to your dorm room for you.” I just stared at him. Fine. If he wanted to carry it, let him. We were taking an Uber back anyway, it wouldn’t be that bad. “Let’s just go eat,” I said. Because of the heavy bagel I’d had earlier, I wasn’t that hungry. And since he was the one who insisted on this place, I figured if I ordered less, the bill wouldn’t be as bad for him. So I just picked three small things. “Babe, is that all you’re getting? Is that enough?” “I’m not super hungry, it’s fine.” “Are you trying to lose weight? You’re already so skinny, you don’t need to. You have to eat more. I won’t mind if you gain a little weight.” I took a sip of water, not wanting to get into it. Then I watched as Ben started ordering. Toro, uni, wagyu beef, oysters… he was ordering like someone else was paying for it. I frowned and put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Don’t order so much. We won’t be able to finish it.” He just patted his chest. “Don’t worry, I have a huge appetite. Nothing will go to waste.” He kept ordering. I just shrugged. Whatever. As long as he was happy. 6 My dishes came out first. I had ordered a small appetizer, a sushi plate, and a dessert. I had just picked up my fork to try the appetizer when Ben leaned over and scooped half of it onto his plate. “Mmm… it’s okay. Not as good as I expected.” I silently pulled the remaining half of my appetizer and my dessert closer to me. We were still in the early stages of dating; I wasn’t ready to share saliva yet. Then he started on my sushi plate. He didn’t finish a single piece. He just took one bite out of each one. “I’m just testing them for you,” he said, chewing loudly. “They’re all different flavors.” He kept chewing. “Okay, this one’s good. I only took a little bite, you can have the rest. This one’s mediocre, don’t eat it, I’ll finish it for you.” I watched this horror show, my brows furrowed so deep you could lose a coin in them. “You know what,” I said, “you can just have it all. I’m not really in the mood for rice anymore. I’ll just order something else.” “See, this is what I’m talking about. You order food and then you don’t eat it. If I wasn’t here, it would all go to waste. A boyfriend’s job is basically to be a human garbage disposal. You can’t be this wasteful when I’m not around. Or, you could just pack up your leftovers for me.” He was still talking while eating my sushi. A single grain of rice flew out of his mouth and landed in my appetizer. I felt my stomach turn. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Nothing. I just need to use the restroom.” 7 I stayed in the bathroom for a while, texting my best friend a play-by-play of the disaster date. I wasn’t even sure what I was complaining about, but the whole day just felt… off. When I came back, the table in front of Ben was a war zone of empty plates. I sat down and just watched him eat. “Why aren’t you eating?” he asked. “Not enough? Here, have some of mine, I ordered a ton.” I quickly shook my head. “No, you eat. I’m really not hungry.” He nodded and went back to chewing, still talking with his mouth full. “I thought food this expensive would be mind-blowing, but it’s just… whatever.” “You really need to eat more. You can’t just starve yourself to be skinny, you’ll ruin your health. It’s not worth it.” “Look at you. You ordered three things and you only had one bite of that appetizer. If I wasn’t here, it would all be wasted. That’s not a good habit, you know. My mom always told me food is precious and we can’t waste it. You should be grateful to have me.” “Haha, you’re right,” I said, trying to subtly lean away from him so he wouldn’t spray food on me. Finally, after another ten agonizing minutes, he was done. “Okay, let’s pay and head back to campus.” “Sounds good,” I said. “You go ahead and get the check, I’m just going to use the restroom.” He stood up. “Waiter, check please!” he called out, and then headed for the bathroom. The waiter came over. “Hello, your total is $450.78. How will you be paying?” Even with my complete lack of dating experience, I knew something was very wrong. Who goes on a date and then conveniently has to go to the bathroom the second the bill arrives? I had just spent over three hundred dollars at the grocery store, and this meal, of which I’d had exactly one bite, was even more. I thought about it and got angry. I had told him we could go somewhere cheaper. He was the one who insisted on coming here. And he had the nerve to pull this stunt after I paid for all his groceries. No way was I paying for this meal. A text from Ben popped up on my phone: “My stomach’s a mess, might be in here for a while. You can just wait for me at a coffee shop or something.” I didn’t reply. I turned to the waiter. “Actually, I’m still hungry. Could you move me to a different table? I’d like to order some more things, and then you can bring one check for everything.” “Of course,” the waiter said. I thought for a second. “You know what, on second thought, can I just get it to go?” I ordered a bunch of my favorite dishes. By the time the waiter brought out the takeout bags, the Uber I’d called for campus delivery was pulling up. “Can you take these bags of food and those two grocery bags to the south campus gate? A campus delivery driver will meet you there.” “You got it,” the driver said. With everything settled, I clapped my hands together and turned to leave. The waiter hurried over to stop me. “Ma’am, with the takeout order, the new total is $631.24. Uh…” I raised an eyebrow. “The gentleman I was with is paying. He’s in the restroom.” I then yelled toward the bathroom. “Ben, I’m thirsty, I’m gonna go grab a coffee!” A voice immediately called back from inside. “Go ahead, babe! I’ll be right out!” I looked at the waiter. He nodded. “Right this way, ma’am.” And I walked out.

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In my past life, when my husband, Julian, got cancer, everyone hid it from me. To set me free, he started cheating, verbally abusing me, and giving me the silent treatment. I couldn’t take it anymore and finally agreed to a divorce. That’s when his friends, perched on their moral high ground, told me the truth about his “selfless” intentions and his terminal diagnosis. I fell apart and killed myself to be with him. But after I died, Julian was saved. A miracle. I watched, a disembodied soul, as he sobbed at my grave. And then I watched as his friends convinced him to move on, to rebuild his life, to marry the woman he’d cheated on me with. So when I found myself back at that party, and Julian jokingly said, “Let’s get a divorce,” I didn’t get angry. I just said, very calmly, “Okay.” 1 The moment I said it, a strange, heavy silence fell over the room. The lavish private suite was suddenly quiet, but I didn’t seem to notice. I just kept my head down, calmly eating the dessert in my bowl. Julian’s hand, which had been holding Isabelle’s, slowly released its grip. His handsome face, moments before joking about being in love with someone else and wanting a divorce, was now a rigid, ugly mask. He clearly hadn’t expected me to say that. Or rather, he knew how much I loved him. He thought that even a joke like that would make me panic, get angry, maybe even cause a scene. How could I possibly have said “Okay” so calmly? His friends, each with their own ulterior motives, exchanged uneasy glances. The little drama they had orchestrated, expecting to see me humiliated and crying, had just crumbled. The plot had taken a ninety-degree turn, leaving them all scrambling. But I didn’t feel any satisfaction. I calmly looked from one face to the next, my gaze finally landing on Isabelle’s striking, beautiful features. In my last life, I considered her my best friend. But I had forgotten one crucial detail. She and Julian had been inseparable since they were kids. The same fierce loyalty she showed me in public was matched by the deep, painful stab she delivered to my back when it mattered most. Isabelle looked a little uncomfortable under my stare. She glanced instinctively at Julian. He was glaring at me, his jaw tight, his face a thundercloud. Her own expression flickered with something dark for a second. Then, she pasted on a bright, cheerful smile and came over to grab my arm. “Hey, Lena, don’t be mad. It was just a stupid joke that Alex came up with. We were just messing with you.” I took a step back, avoiding her hand. My face was expressionless. I looked at Julian. “But I’m not joking,” I said. “Seriously, Julian. Let’s get a divorce.” 2 Isabelle stood frozen between us, looking back and forth from me to Julian, the very picture of someone caught in the middle. She was a great actress. If I hadn’t died once, if my wandering soul hadn’t witnessed her kicking over my tombstone with a look of pure disgust, I would never have known the twisted jealousy that festered beneath her cool, confident exterior. This was the first time I’d ever seen her look so helpless. And even though I wasn’t the one who caused it, everyone in the room turned on me because of her. Alex shoved his chair back and stormed over. “Lena, don’t take it too far!” he snapped. “We already said it was a joke. You’re just trying to make a scene. Can’t you take a joke?” How ironic. They were the ones who made the joke. I was the victim. And yet, somehow, I was the one who couldn’t take it. Alex had always had a sharp tongue, his words dripping with sarcasm. I used to think it was just his personality, that he was like that with everyone, so I tried to ignore it. Later, I realized he was only like that with me. As Julian’s wife, I had never truly been accepted by his friends. I ignored Alex’s barking and kept my eyes locked on Julian. Seeing that I wasn’t backing down, Julian finally realized I was serious. A cold, humorless laugh escaped his lips. He grabbed Isabelle’s arm and pulled her into his arms. He stared at me, his eyes burning with a vengeful fire. “Fine,” he said, his voice dripping with venom. “You said it. Don’t regret it. Pack your things. We’ll get the divorce papers tomorrow.” Then, in front of everyone, he lowered his head and kissed her. It was a rough, possessive kiss, fueled by anger. The sound of their lips, of their tongues tangling, filled the room. The soft lighting overhead created a dramatic scene: the woman’s pliant body bent backward, the man’s large, strong hand cupping the back of her delicate neck. It was like something out of a movie. I saw Isabelle make a weak show of pushing against his chest, then her hands crept up and wrapped around his neck. Someone gasped. Then came the excited clicks of phone cameras. I was standing closest to them. I saw every intimate, unspoken detail. My pale lips trembled. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t know what. A soft, vulnerable part of me had been shattered. Something precious that I had hidden deep inside. The moment Julian kissed someone else, right in front of me, it broke. Quietly. Silently. I squeezed my eyes shut, my face a numb mask, and walked out of the room. 3 A light rain had started to fall outside. The world was a murky gray, the streetlights casting a hazy, yellow glow. The bare branches of the trees along the road clawed at the darkness, swaying menacingly in the cold wind. A couple stood next to me, whispering for a moment. Then the boy took off his jacket and draped it over the girl. They huddled together and ran into the rain, disappearing into a car parked down the street. I watched them, my mind feeling foggy. I felt like I had forgotten something important, but I couldn’t remember what. It wasn’t until I got home and started packing that I found it, at the very bottom of a storage box. An umbrella. The sight of it made the tears I’d been holding back finally break free. It was a clear, foldable umbrella. On the inside, I had drawn all my favorite cartoon characters with a black marker. One day after school, it started pouring. I was supposed to walk home with my friends, but then I saw my deskmate, Julian, standing under the eaves, staring at the gray sky, a look of lonely detachment on his face. He must have forgotten his umbrella. And there was no one at home to bring him one. My heart softened. After a moment of hesitation, I shoved my umbrella into his hands. “You can keep it! Consider it a thank you for helping me with my homework!” I said, trying to sound casual and carefree to hide the fluttering in my chest. I didn’t even dare to look at his reaction before I turned and ran to my friends, urging them to hurry up. My friends teased me about my beet-red face. I playfully pushed them, but my eyes kept drifting back through the rain. He was still there, a tall, slender figure in his blue and white school uniform, holding my umbrella tightly. The world was a downpour of gray, but all I could hear was the frantic pounding of my own heart. The next day, it was still raining. I don’t remember what I was feeling when I saw him again, but I remember every detail of him walking into the classroom from the back door. My clear, cartoon-covered umbrella wasn’t leaning against the wall in the hallway with all the other colorful ones. He was holding it in his long, pale hand, carefully wiping the raindrops from it with a soft handkerchief. Then he smoothed out the wrinkles, folded it neatly, and placed it carefully in his desk, next to his textbooks. Eighteen-year-old Julian looked up and met my gaze. He smiled, his eyes crinkling into crescent moons. He told me he would cherish it forever. We hadn’t said the words yet, but in the silent space between our two young, wildly beating hearts, we both knew what he meant. He would cherish *me* forever. The rain had stopped. I wiped my tears, calmed myself down. I picked up the umbrella, long forgotten by its owner. The clear plastic was yellowed and cloudy, the cartoon drawings faded and blurred. The metal frame was rusted and broken, and it smelled of decay. I sat on the edge of the bed, holding it, and stared out into the night. I didn’t sleep at all. Sometime later, the darkness began to fade. A single ray of light broke through the clouds, casting my silhouette in stark black and white. My limbs were cold and stiff as I stood up, took the old umbrella, and threw it in the trash. Then, I called Julian’s number. That summer rain from our youth was finally over. 4 The phone rang for a long time before someone finally picked up. But the voice that answered was a woman’s, lazy and sleepy. “…Hello? Who is this?” She yawned. In my dead silence, it sounded a little forced. After a moment, Isabelle’s voice came again, this time low and apologetic. “I grabbed the wrong phone. Hold on, I’ll wake Julian up…” “Don’t bother,” I cut her off. My voice was flat. “Just tell him I have all the paperwork ready. 3 PM at the courthouse.” I hung up before she could respond. I hadn’t eaten since last night, but my stomach was churning. I felt like I was going to be sick. *I love you. I’ll never leave you.* All empty words. He could sleep with someone else without a second thought. Some people, no matter the reason, are just born to cheat. I remembered in my last life, when I “accidentally” walked in on them. The pain was so sharp I almost fainted. I lost all control, screaming at them like a madwoman. Isabelle had a look of apology on her face, but she kept saying it was a misunderstanding, an accident, and that I shouldn’t blame Julian. And Julian… he didn’t say a word in his defense. He just let me scream and cry and throw his past promises in his face. He just stood there, silent, as if he was hiding some terrible secret. As if he was the one who was suffering, the one who was making a great sacrifice. In the end, everyone took his side. They said he had his reasons, that he didn’t mean to hurt me, that I shouldn’t be so hard on him. They were the ones who did it. But somehow, I was the one who was wrong. His cold silence made me look like a lunatic. I started to doubt myself. Was I overreacting? Was I just being paranoid, ruining their years of “pure friendship”? Was that what pushed him to finally act on his feelings for her? I was in a daze when I finally agreed to the divorce. But after he gave me the papers, his condition worsened. Alex and the others, unable to watch him suffer any longer, came and yelled at me, saying it was my fault, that I had pushed him over the edge. Did I know, they asked, that he had done all of this, this cruel, self-destructive performance, just to set me free? We had been high school sweethearts, married right after college. Julian’s parents were dead. I was all he had. He knew I would never leave him, no matter what. So he chose this extreme, painful way to force me away. I had just started to accept the reality that he had cheated on me, that he didn’t love me anymore. And then they told me he had hurt me because he loved me *too much*. They said he could have lived for another two years. But because I had made such a scene, his condition had suddenly deteriorated. It was all my fault. It was my word against all of theirs. In the end, I broke. After one last look at Julian, unconscious in the ICU, I ran to the roof of the hospital and jumped. Looking back now, it was so stupid. This time, I chose to let myself go, to let go of the past. But I waited at the courthouse for a long time. The office was closing for the day when Julian finally showed up. 5 “I wasn’t feeling well. I only just woke up half an hour ago,” he explained before I could say a word. He was out of breath, his trench coat open to reveal a slightly rumpled shirt collar. His hair was a mess, like he’d just rolled out of bed. He looked at the closed doors of the courthouse and let out a breath. I couldn’t tell if it was a sigh of frustration or relief. “We’ll have to reschedule,” he said, his tone cool. There was nothing else to do. I told him to contact me when he had time, then turned to leave without another word. But then he said, “When you called this morning, Isabelle answered. What did she say to you?” His probing tone annoyed me. The resentment that had been building up inside me suddenly erupted. I spun around and sneered, “You were in the same bed, weren’t you? What did she say? Don’t you know?” He paused. To my surprise, his expression softened, like a storm cloud clearing. It was as if he had just confirmed something. He seemed genuinely relieved. His voice was unusually gentle as he explained, “You misunderstood. I drank too much last night. She brought me home. I wasn’t feeling well, so she stayed to take care of me.” Putting aside how ridiculous that sounded, I didn’t understand why, given our current situation, he felt the need to explain anything to me. But then I understood. Right in front of me, Julian started to cough. His face went pale. He winced, his handsome brows furrowing in pain, and coughed again, a wracking, painful sound. I couldn’t tell if he was faking it or not. Either way, it had nothing to do with me. I turned to leave. I heard hurried footsteps behind me, and then Julian’s hand was on my arm. His face was pale and drawn, his jaw tight. “I told you I wasn’t feeling well,” he hissed. “Don’t you even care?” I knew he was sick. I knew it was serious. But so what? I tried to pull my arm away. “Let go,” I said, frowning. He just tightened his grip, his expression turning even darker. He was the one who wanted a divorce. And now that I had agreed, he was the one who was angry. He glared at me for a long moment, then violently shoved my arm away. He coughed again, his voice heavy with suppressed emotion. “…Fine. I’ll let you go.” He sounded like he was in pain, like his heart was breaking. I didn’t hesitate. I turned and walked away. But then, I heard a loud thud behind me. Julian had collapsed. I called an ambulance and rushed him to the hospital. After a moment of hesitation, I called Isabelle. Once we were divorced, Julian would marry her anyway. It wasn’t my place, as the soon-to-be-ex-wife, to be there. Isabelle arrived quickly, without a word. Alex was with her. I stood up from the bench in the hallway, about to tell them Julian was in the ER, when Isabelle stormed up to me and slapped me. Hard. I was stunned. “You’re a fucking jinx!” she spat, her voice colder than I had ever heard it. “Are you happy now? Do you want him dead?” 6 I touched my numb cheek, my ear ringing. I raised my hand to slap her back. But Alex was faster. He shoved me hard, sending me sprawling to the floor. He stood in front of Isabelle, looking down at me. “You even think about touching her, I dare you!” he roared. I pushed myself up on the cold, sterile floor, shaking with anger. Just then, the light above the ER door went out, and a doctor came out. Isabelle immediately forgot about me and rushed over, Alex right behind her. But as he passed me, he paused. Then, his expensive, Italian leather shoe came down, hard, on the back of my hand. He was a tall, muscular guy, and he put his full weight on it. A scream of pain escaped my lips, tears streaming down my face. I looked up at him. In the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway, his face was a blurry, malicious grin. “Go on,” he mouthed, a silent, demonic challenge. “Call the cops.” In that instant, I was thrown back into the darkness of my past life, the moral bullying, the mental breakdown. A bucket of ice water was dumped over my head, chilling me to the bone. The thought of calling the police, which had been so real a moment ago, turned to ash. I suddenly remembered. Alex’s family was powerful. Calling the police would be like calling him directly to complain about what he’d done. What would I get besides a dose of his cruel laughter? Before, he might have held back, afraid of what Julian would think. But now, with our relationship in ruins, he wasn’t hiding his hatred for me anymore. I used to wonder why he disliked me so much. Now I knew. He was Isabelle’s dog. Isabelle loved Julian, so he followed Julian like a loyal puppy. Isabelle hated me, so he hated me with a passion. I sat on the floor for a long time, waiting for the pain to subside, for the feeling to return to my hand. Then I got up and left, not looking back, desperate to escape. I called a moving company, packed up all my things, and left the bustling city center. I went back to my old family home in the suburbs. I opened the door to the sound of a drowsy, old-fashioned opera playing on the TV. The house smelled of mildew and old memories. An old woman in a wheelchair, dozing on the balcony, lifted her heavy, wrinkled eyelids. She saw me walk in with all my bags. A smug, mocking smile spread across her face. “See? What did I tell you? Kicked to the curb, weren’t you?” 7 I acted as if I hadn’t heard her, silently unpacking my things. My mother straightened up in her wheelchair and put on her reading glasses. She didn’t ask any questions, didn’t seem to care at all. She just immediately started trying to set me up with the neighbor’s son. “I told you not to punch above your weight. Why would a rich man like him ever want you? You’ve got no chest, no ass. And now look at you. He used you for a few years and then threw you out like trash.” “I never liked the look of that Julian anyway. Good thing you didn’t have any kids. At least you can still get married again.” “I’ll call Mrs. Chen and see if her son is home. Stop unpacking. Go get dressed up and meet him.” She started fumbling with her old flip phone, trying to find the right buttons. I slammed a pile of clothes into my suitcase. “What, do you think I can’t live without a man?” I snapped. “If you like Mrs. Chen’s son so much, why don’t you marry him?” “All you ever talk about is setting me up. You’d think he was some kind of prize! Did he even get out of jail yet? You want me to go out with some bum who can’t hold down a job? Am I even your daughter?” My mother’s face darkened, her eyes glinting with a feral rage. “He’s not holding your divorce against you, you should be grateful! You keep being picky and you’ll end up alone! You think you can just be a burden on me for the rest of your life?” I felt a lump of anger rise in my throat, choking me. It was impossible to reason with her. She wouldn’t listen. Her old-fashioned, toxic ideas were embedded in her bones. Even her own daughter had to bend to them. I stopped unpacking and just shoved everything into my old room, slamming the door. “I won’t be a burden on you,” I yelled through the door. “I’ll be out of here in a few days.” I heard the sound of her wheelchair rolling across the floor, then a loud banging on my door. She was screaming at me, saying I had gotten too big for my britches, that I was rebelling. “Even if you move out, you’re still going on that date!” she shrieked. “Your divorce is embarrassing enough! Do you want to make it so I can’t even face my neighbors?” “And what’s so wrong with Kevin? Don’t listen to gossip. I’m your mother, I would never do anything to hurt you…” I found my earbuds and shoved them in my ears. Then I opened my phone and started looking for apartments. This house was just as suffocating as it had always been. I thought that if I could just find a place to hide, get the divorce finalized once Julian was out of the hospital, my life could finally be peaceful. But things rarely go as planned. After another day of being unable to eat, of running to the bathroom to throw up, I found myself staring at a pregnancy test. Two pink lines. I was completely lost.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “385223”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel