Author: Momo Chan

“So, you must be the legendary ‘girl best friend,’ right?” “Let me guess, next you’re going to tell me a bunch of Liam’s little secrets?” “Then you’ll swear up and down you’re just ‘one of the guys’?” “Listen, I’ve read a hundred stories just like this. Your little act won’t work on me.” She said it with a smirk, like she had me all figured out. I was speechless. I turned to Liam. “You need to tell your girlfriend to delete Wattpad.” 1 Hailey chewed on her straw, tilting her head as she looked at me. Curled up in Liam’s arms, she cooed, “Zoe, honey, when you’re a guy’s ‘girl best friend,’ is it like in the stories? Do you guys, like, sleep in the same bed and play video games all night?” She sighed dramatically. “I’m so jealous. I can’t even talk to a guy without blushing!” My fork stopped halfway to my mouth. Liam, who had been texting, chuckled without looking up. “What are you talking about? Back in middle school when she came over to study, my mom kicked me out to the living room couch.” “But in the stories, the girl best friend always sneaks in to tuck the guy in,” Hailey pouted, her eyes suddenly welling up. “And she’ll pretend to be drunk and lean on his shoulder… Zoe, you wouldn’t do something like that, would you?” The private dining room went silent. Under the table, our friend Ryan kicked me, his eyes wide as he gestured toward my phone. The group chat was blowing up. “Is this girl for real? Is she auditioning for a soap opera?” “Zoe, DESTROY HER.” I slowly lifted my gaze. Hailey was blinking her big, innocent eyes, waiting for my answer. I put down my fork and turned to Liam. “Tell your girlfriend to delete Wattpad.” Hailey’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Liam, did I say something wrong? Is Zoe mad at me?” she whimpered. “Does she think I’m intruding? Does she want you to send me home?” “It’s all my fault, I’m so stupid, I don’t know how to talk to people! Please don’t let me make things awkward for you and Zoe, okay? I’ll be more careful next time!” Liam dropped the shrimp he was peeling for her and fumbled for a napkin. He shot me a glare filled with reproach. “Zoe! Why would you joke like that? Can’t you see she’s about to cry?” He pulled Hailey into a hug, murmuring sweet nothings. “Baby, don’t cry, she’s just messing with you. She didn’t mean it.” Then, he started making frantic faces at me. “Apologize to Hailey! Now!” 2 I sighed. It was the first time Liam had brought a girlfriend to meet us. I forced a tight smile in Hailey’s direction. “It was just a joke. Don’t take it seriously.” I added, “Just a suggestion, maybe try reading something else. Sci-fi, history… you know, expand your horizons.” The rest of the guys at the table choked back laughter. Hailey’s face went from pale to beet red. The rest of the meal gave me indigestion. When we were leaving, I grabbed a big paper bag from my car and tossed it to Liam. “Here. Your sneakers.” His eyes lit up. “Whoa, Zoe, you’re the best! I thought for sure you didn’t manage to get them!” He was about to tear open the box when Hailey let out a loud sob. “Is that… a gift from Zoe? They’re so beautiful…” she wailed. “It’s not like me… my family doesn’t have much money. All I could afford to get you was a twenty-dollar keychain. I’m so sorry, Liam!” I had no idea what she was on about now. I frowned. “It’s not a gift. He has to pay me back. He asked me to pick them up for him when I was studying abroad this summer.” But Hailey acted like she hadn’t heard a word. Tears streamed down her face like a broken faucet. “Zoe, I know you don’t mean to, but when you do things like this… are you trying to remind me that I’m not in the same world as you guys? That I can’t afford to buy Liam limited-edition sneakers? That I’m not good enough for him?” She turned back to Liam, her crying escalating. “Liam, this is your secret little world with Zoe, isn’t it? I feel like such an outsider. Maybe I should just leave and stop bothering you two!” Liam stood there, helplessly trying to wipe her tears with his sleeve, the sneaker box in his hand feeling like a hot potato. “Liam, how could you accept a gift from another woman?” she accused. “You just like having her pop in and out of your life whenever she wants, don’t you?” He turned to me, his voice deliberately low. “Zoe, did you have to give them to me right in front of her? You know how she overthinks things.” He shot me another desperate look, silently pleading. I locked eyes with Ryan. He shivered and practically ran back to his own car. I rolled my eyes. “Do whatever you want with them. But you’re still paying me. They were expensive.” 3 In the end, Liam didn’t have the heart to get rid of the sneakers. He sent me the money right away, along with a sticker of a cartoon character groveling for forgiveness. I figured that was the end of it. We were all in different majors, so it wasn’t like we’d see each other often. But the next day, I went viral on the university’s confessions page. Ryan sent me the link. “Zoe, you’re famous.” I clicked on it. It was a long, rambling post, every line dripping with manufactured angst: *”Am I being too sensitive and petty? My boyfriend has a ‘girl best friend’ he’s known for years, and I honestly don’t know how to deal with her…”* *”We just started dating, and she’s already given him a pair of sneakers that cost more than my budget for an entire semester. I’m not jealous, really, I’m just… feeling a little insecure and sad.”* *”It’s my fault for coming from a normal family. I can’t just casually drop that kind of money on a gift to maintain a friendship. I’ve been saving up to buy him something for a couple hundred dollars, but compared to her gift, mine feels so pathetic…”* *”My boyfriend said it was an old promise they made. It turns out they have so many secrets and so much history I don’t know about… Is she doing this to remind me that I’m the outsider?”* *”I really, really like my boyfriend, and I want to try to get along with his best friend, but I feel so anxious all the time. I’m so scared every day. What should I do? Should I just break up with him so they can be together after all these years?”* The comments section was already a warzone with hundreds of replies. “Wait, isn’t the OP Hailey, the prettiest girl in the English department? Then Z.L. must be Zoe Lin!” “Definitely! I saw Liam wearing a new pair of Jordans today that have like, a four-figure price tag!” “Seriously, can the ‘girl best friend’ just disappear already?!” Before I could even finish reading, I got a friend request. The profile picture was a girl in a white dress with long, straight black hair. The second I accepted, a message popped up: *”Zoe, don’t get the wrong idea! I forgot to post it anonymously! I was just sharing something from a story I read.”* 4 I replied: *”Then you should probably clarify that on the page.”* The message was sent. And then, radio silence. Hailey never wrote back. The next day, Liam dragged Hailey to my dorm to ambush me. He looked apologetic. Hailey hid behind him, her eyes red and puffy. “Zoe, I’m so sorry, Hailey didn’t mean to…” Liam started. “Then she can go to the confessions page, delete the post, and issue a clarification,” I interrupted. Hailey’s shoulders trembled, and tears immediately started rolling down her cheeks. Liam instantly shielded her. “Hailey’s very timid. If she deletes it and apologizes now, think of what people will say about her! Come on, Zoe, be the bigger person and let it go! Look how scared she is!” As if on cue, Hailey suddenly gagged and covered her mouth. I took a step back, not wanting to get blamed for whatever this was. “I’m sorry, Zoe, please don’t be mad at me… I… I didn’t mean to,” she gasped. “It’s just, when I see that you hate me, I get so anxious my stomach turns… I’m sorry, my body is just so weak…” She stumbled dramatically into Liam’s arms. I almost laughed. With acting skills like that, why was she an English major? She should have gone to film school. “Maybe you should lay off the romance novels for a while. And stop making things up.” I turned and walked away. Behind me, I could hear Liam’s soft, comforting words, and Hailey’s faint, whimpering voice. “Liam… you’re not going to listen to Zoe and break up with me, are you?” 5 During our shared elective class, Ryan nudged me. “Are you really just going to let this go?” he whispered. I was focused on the professor’s PowerPoint. “He’s going to put his girlfriend before his friends,” I said without looking away. “It’s understandable.” The words had barely left my mouth when we heard a sob from the row behind us. Ryan and I turned around. Hailey was sitting there, clutching a textbook, tears streaming down her face. She looked at me, her lips trembling. Then she shot up, covered her mouth, and ran crying from the lecture hall. “What’s her problem now?” Ryan asked, completely bewildered. I just shrugged and went back to my notes. I found out that afternoon. I was in the dining hall when Liam stormed up to my table, his face a mask of anger and disappointment. “Zoe, do you have to be like this? Hailey is trying so hard to be your friend, and you’re making passive-aggressive digs at her behind her back? Now she’s so upset she couldn’t even stay in class. Are you happy now?” Ryan and I exchanged baffled looks. Ryan frowned. “Liam, what the hell are you talking about? All Zoe said was that she understands you have to prioritize your girlfriend. How is that a dig?” Hearing that only made Liam angrier. He sneered, his eyes darting between me and Ryan. “Of course, you two stick together! You’ve been friends since you were kids, so now you’re ganging up on the outsider, is that it?” His gaze landed back on me, full of disappointment. “Zoe, I never thought you were that kind of person…” I pursed my lips. “What kind of person is that?” 6 Liam opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Ryan had seen enough. He grabbed Liam’s arm. “Alright, I’m done eating. Let’s go shoot some hoops.” He dragged him away without waiting for an answer. Staring at my now-cold food, I suddenly lost my appetite. When I got back to my dorm, Hailey was there, talking to my roommate. The second she saw me, she rushed over, her eyes red. “Zoe, I’m so sorry, I came here to apologize… I didn’t realize you and Liam were so close. It’s my fault for ruining your friendship… If you want, I can break up with him! Just please, don’t tell his parents bad things about me, okay?” She spoke between sobs, making it sound like I was bullying her, but the message was crystal clear. My roommate was staring at us with a weird expression. “What you and he do has nothing to do with me,” I said flatly. “And for the record, Liam and I are just friends. Our parents don’t get involved in our personal lives. And I have no interest in guys who already have girlfriends. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to take a nap.” Hailey’s face flushed, and she started crying even harder. I pulled a tissue from the box on my desk and handed it to her. “Don’t cry in here. I’m not Liam. I’m allergic to your tears.” I knew explaining was pointless. I didn’t want to waste another breath on her, so I kicked her out. 7 The week after Fall Break was Liam’s birthday. Ryan insisted on organizing a party, dragging me along because he didn’t want our friend group to fall apart. When I walked into the private room at the karaoke bar, Liam and Hailey were already there. As soon as she saw me, Hailey let go of Liam’s hand and started nervously twisting her fingers. “I know this is supposed to be a friends’ thing, and I shouldn’t be here…” she began, her voice soft and sweet. “But it’s the first birthday I’m celebrating with Liam…” Liam, his heart melting, pulled her into his arms but looked at me. “Don’t be silly. You’re my girlfriend, of course you’re supposed to be at my birthday party. Zoe’s my best friend. She won’t mind, right, Zoe?” I didn’t say anything, just pointedly sat as far away from them as possible. When it was time for the cake, Hailey clapped her hands together before Liam could. “Liam, I want to make a wish with you!” Naturally, he agreed. Through the flickering candlelight, Hailey’s gaze locked onto mine. “I wish,” she said, “that Liam and his best friend can stay… purely platonic. Forever.” She drew out the word “platonic,” her voice slow and sweet. The air in the room froze. But Liam just laughed. He ruffled Hailey’s hair and added, “You hear that, Zoe? Hailey made a wish for us. We’d better keep our friendship purely platonic!” Ryan broke the awkward silence. “Blow out the candles, man!” A little later, Hailey approached me, holding a glass of wine. “Zoe, I’d like to make a toast to you.” She staggered, then lunged straight at me. Before I could react, there was a dull thud, followed by her piercing shriek. Liam was on his feet in a second. He shoved me back, hard, and glared at me. “Zoe, what the hell?! She was trying to be nice to you! Even if you don’t like her, did you have to push her?” 8 Hailey collapsed into Liam’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably. “Zoe, why did you push me? I was just trying to toast to your friendship!” For the first time, Liam looked at me with genuine anger. “Zoe, you went too far this time! Hailey told me before we even got here that she wanted to properly apologize to you!” He shielded her with his body, his brow furrowed. “You know she’s fragile! I never thought you could be so vicious!” I didn’t even bother raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t push her.” My gaze went past him, to the corner of the ceiling. I lifted my chin. “This room has a security camera. I don’t appreciate being framed.” The moment I said that, Hailey’s crying stopped cold. Liam instinctively started to look for a waiter. But Hailey grabbed his sleeve. “Liam… don’t! I… I mean, it’s fine. Let’s just say I lost my footing!” I watched her act, saying nothing. Hailey’s voice grew more frantic. “It’s your birthday! Let’s not ruin everyone’s night over something so small.” She was still sniffling, trying to move on. But the more she tried to stop him, the calmer Liam became. “It’s okay, Hailey,” he said, his voice steady. “I need to clear your name.” He might be in love with Hailey, but he wasn’t an idiot. As he said it, he gave her a long, hard look. Then he pulled his arm free and walked out of the room to find the manager and check the security footage.

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Seven years with Ethan Hayes. Six of them with his number deleted from my phone. Our only communication was through Venmo. One day, I just got tired of it all. When I asked for a divorce, he didn’t try to stop me. He was civil, even when we signed the papers. He calmly divided our assets and said, “You’re the mother of our child. We can let the past be the past.” “And if you’re ever struggling out there,” he added, “there will always be a room for you at the house.” I just smiled. “No, thanks. That wouldn’t be fair to your new girlfriend.” With that, I stood up and walked away, leaving Ethan—always so cool and composed—sitting alone at the table, just staring into space. 1 The tabloids were having a field day. Ethan Hayes, the celebrated director, had just dropped five million dollars on a pink diamond to impress his new lover. The woman on his arm was a young starlet from one of his films. She looked like she’d just graduated college, still a little baby fat on her cheeks, but with incredibly expressive eyes. The internet commenters were ruthless. *“What happened to his taste?”* Someone replied, *“You don’t get it. A man’s true love will always be eighteen.”* Another person pointed out, *“You know, she kind of looks like his wife, back when she was young.”* That sparked a wave of sentimental comments, all concluding that Ethan Hayes was just like every other man. He might play the field, but deep down, his wife was still the one. … I almost laughed out loud. Ever since we’d stopped talking, the only contact I had with Ethan was a single Venmo transaction at the beginning of each month. Five thousand dollars. The memo always read: “Expenses.” In his world, a five-million-dollar diamond was a reasonable price for a new lover’s smile. A five-thousand-dollar payment was all his nominal wife was worth. If that was love, it was a sick joke. Our marriage had been a ghost for six years, but seeing that woman with the five-million-dollar diamond on her finger still stirred something in me. It wasn’t just the money. It was the memory of a much different time. I don’t remember how long ago it was. Ethan had just been cut off by his family, and his monthly paycheck was exactly five thousand dollars. When he proposed, he fumbled with a simple, unadorned ring, carefully sliding it onto my finger. “Claire,” he’d whispered, “I promise, when we have money, I’ll get you a much better one.” I found out later that even that simple ring had cost five thousand dollars. The idiot had spent his entire month’s salary on it, choosing to live on instant ramen just for me. Maybe the five-million-dollar news had knocked something loose in my brain. I opened Venmo, found Ethan’s profile picture, and, for the first time in years, sent him a message. *“So, where’s my pink diamond?”* It was meant to be a joke. But by the next morning, he still hadn’t replied. 2 After a restless night, I finally fell asleep around dawn. At noon, my phone rang. It was the housekeeper from the family estate, gently reminding me that I was late. I checked my calendar. It was my designated day to visit our daughter, Lily. It was also, consistently, the worst day of my month. When I hurried into the estate, Lily was playing on a soft rug in the living room. A young woman was kneeling beside her, watching her with a gentle expression. To an outsider, they looked like mother and daughter. I stopped in my tracks. It was the woman from the news. “What are you doing here?” I asked. She looked up, and her eyes instantly filled with tears. She was an actress, after all. Her timing was impeccable. The first tear rolled down her cheek at the exact moment Ethan started walking down the stairs. He looked like he’d just woken up, a storm cloud of irritation hanging around him. His silk robe was open, revealing a chest covered in faint, red scratches. They were good together, I thought absently. “What are you crying about?” Ethan asked her, his tone surprisingly soft. “Ethan,” the woman said, standing up and looking at him timidly. “I think… Claire doesn’t want me here. I should go.” She made a show of leaving, but before Ethan could say anything, Lily grabbed her hand. “You can’t go! I don’t want you to go!” The young woman scooped her up. “Lily, honey, your mommy’s here now. When she’s here, I have to leave.” Lily scowled at me. “I don’t want Mommy. She’s a bad woman! I only want you.” Then they clung to each other and started sobbing, making me feel like the intruder. I watched for a moment before speaking up. “Maybe I should be the one to leave.” It was a perfectly reasonable suggestion, but Ethan’s face immediately darkened. He looked up, his eyes cutting into me. “Claire, do you think this is a hotel? You can just come and go as you please?” Before I could answer, his mother appeared at the door of the study. “Daughter-in-law,” she commanded, “come in here. I have something to say to you.” In the study, his mother was as severe as ever, her fingers working over a string of pearls, her gaze judgmental. “You’re not well enough to care for Lily yourself. Sophie is the niece of a distant relative. I’ve asked her to come here and look after Lily. Do you have a problem with that?” I shook my head. So her name was Sophie. It sounded a lot like mine. His mother nodded, satisfied. “As for you, you can’t even hold onto your husband and your own child. You’re the most useless type of woman.” I lowered my eyes. “You’re right. I am useless.” Experience had taught me that arguing with her was pointless. Agreeing with her insults was the fastest way to end the lecture. But I wasn’t prepared for what she said next. “Tonight, you and Ethan will sleep together in the guest room in the west wing. You need to get pregnant again. Then you won’t have to worry about raising Lily at all.” I couldn’t believe my ears. “Isn’t Lily enough?” “It would be better to have a boy,” she stated. “In that case, couldn’t Sophie get pregnant?” I heard my own voice, suddenly cold. “As long as it’s a Hayes, does it matter who gives birth?” “She…” For a moment, his mother was speechless, her eyes darting away. “She can’t. Besides, you are still Ethan’s wife. This is your duty.” I should have said, “I understand.” Instead, what came out was, “No.” *Slap.* 3 Five hours later, I walked out of the study, the red mark of her handprint still visible on my cheek. This is what talking back gets you, I sighed to myself. I’ve learned this lesson a thousand times, why can’t I ever keep my mouth shut? It was already dark. They wouldn’t have waited for me for dinner. My stomach rumbled. I was about to go say my goodbyes when I heard a small voice say, “Mommy.” Startled, I saw Lily standing in the doorway, clutching a stuffed bunny. I quickly covered my swollen cheek and knelt down to smile at her. “Hi, sweetie. Did you have dinner?” Lily stared at me for a moment, then tossed the bunny into a nearby trash can. “Why did you do that?” I asked gently. “You have to take care of your toys.” “It’s ugly,” she said. “I don’t like it.” I fell silent. I wasn’t good with my hands; the bunny was lopsided and amateurish. “You’re not allowed to make Aunt Sophie leave,” Lily continued, wrinkling her nose. “I’ve thought about it a lot. I wish… I wish Aunt Sophie was my real mommy.” She gave me a resentful look. “So you remember, if you make her leave, I’ll never talk to you again!” With a flick of her pigtails, she skipped away. I stayed crouched in the doorway for a long time, feeling my body turn to wood, piece by piece. My soul seemed to float out of my body, looking down at the empty shell I had become. I don’t know how I got up, how I left the estate. I was standing on the curb trying to hail a cab when a black car pulled up. The window rolled down to reveal Ethan’s emotionless face. “Get in.” He took me to a small noodle shop we used to frequent. The owner recognized us and greeted us warmly. “The usual? Two bowls of ramen?” Ethan shook his head. “Just one.” As I ate, Ethan took a call. “Sophie? What’s up?” My eyes drifted to his face. He was listening to whatever she was saying, and a small smile played on his lips. His gaze was soft, focused, and gentle. He used to look at me like that. But somewhere along the way, a chasm had opened between us, and our glances had grown cold. The gentle boy from my memories felt like a dream, so distant I sometimes wondered if I’d made him up. But seeing him now, I knew he hadn’t vanished. That gentle side of him was still there. It just wasn’t for me anymore. In that moment, a profound weariness washed over me. What was the point of this marriage? What had we been holding onto for all this time? 4 The thought was so exhausting I could barely hold my chopsticks. I felt a sudden urge to cry, but I refused to do it in front of this new version of Ethan. I wanted to laugh, but instead, a tear fell. Then another. They dripped into my soup, making the broth salty. And in that moment, a ridiculous thought popped into my head: *How does Sophie manage to cry without getting her nose all runny?* A tissue appeared in front of me. Ethan had hung up the phone and was watching me with a frown. “Did my mother give you a hard time again?” He paused. “You know you can just say no to her. You don’t have to make yourself look so pathetic every time.” Through my tears, I looked at him and said, with perfect calm, “Ethan, you were right all those years ago. We would have been better off if we’d never met.” He looked confused. “What are you on about now?” I pulled a tissue from the dispenser, wiped my face, and said the words I had thought a thousand times but never dared to speak. “Ethan, I want a divorce.” 5 If someone had told me ten years ago that Ethan and I would end up as bitter strangers, I would never have believed them. After my father died and my mother drowned herself, I never really had a home. My childhood was a blur of being passed between different relatives. I was always on edge, never knowing when I’d be sent to the next house. Growing up like that, I was not a lovable child. Then I got into NYU’s film school and met Ethan Hayes, the guy everyone orbited around. I never understood why, out of all the beautiful girls at that school, he chose me. All I knew was that first love was the sweetest thing I had ever tasted. And sweetness never lasts. The first time I went to his family’s estate for Christmas, we were thrown out before we could even take our coats off. His parents tossed the gifts I’d brought out into the snow after us. “If you insist on marrying her,” his father had said, “then you are no longer our son.” I stood there in the freezing wind, completely stunned. “What just happened?” “They’re just like that,” Ethan said, not surprised at all. “Control freaks. They want to run my entire life.” Seeing the worry on my face, he poked me in my ticklish spot on my side. I burst out laughing, trying to dodge his hand, and nearly fell into a snowbank. “Don’t worry about them,” he said, taking my hand. “They may be my parents, but I’m their only son. What father is going to disown his only son forever?” The wide street was covered in a thick blanket of snow. Red and green decorations adorned the doors and windows around us. We crunched through the snow, flakes landing in our hair, on our eyelashes, turning us into a pair of snow people. We were homeless, but we just looked at each other and laughed. After a while, Ethan hoisted me onto his back. “I should get down,” I said, worried. “You’re going to slip.” “Nope,” he said. “You’re so skinny, if your shoes get wet, you’ll get sick for sure. And then who has to take care of you? Me.” He mumbled, “Besides, it’s a man’s right to carry the woman he loves.” I blushed. He just grinned at me. “You just work on giving me a little one to carry in a few years, and see if they still have the heart to kick us out.” Embarrassed, I gave his shoulder a playful shove, and in the next second, we were both tumbling into the snow. In the end, he was the one who got sick. We spent the entire holiday break in a cheap motel. On New Year’s Eve, even with medicine, he was burning up, delirious with fever. I kept placing a cool, damp cloth on his forehead, praying his temperature would go down. It wouldn’t break. I was on the verge of tears, and though I wasn’t religious, I clasped my hands together. “Please, God, gods, whoever you are, wherever you’re from, if you just let Ethan get better, you can give all his sickness to me. I’ll take it, I swear.” … Sometime in the middle of the night, his fever finally broke. I was so exhausted I fell asleep slumped over the edge of the bed and slept right through midnight. Much later, Ethan told me that when he woke up that night and saw me sleeping beside him, heard the sound of my soft breathing, he made a promise to himself. For the rest of his life, he would never love anyone but me. “What if you cheat?” I had asked him. He looked at me, his expression serious. “Then may the gods strike that Ethan Hayes dead.” 6 Without his family’s support, we had nothing. Ethan had gone to film school because his father was a famous director. He’d grown up on film sets and had developed a passion for it. But after their falling out, his father had blacklisted him. No one in the industry would hire him. So Ethan worked manual labor during the day and wrote screenplays at night, selling them anonymously for cash. No one would cast me either, so I got a job working the night shift at a 24-hour convenience store. At the end of my shift, I’d bring home the free, nearly expired food for us to share. I was used to being poor, so it didn’t bother me. But Ethan, who had grown up with everything, never complained once. As his scripts started selling for more money, our lives slowly improved. We could afford to go out for hot pot once a week, and we didn’t have to haggle over the price of vegetables at the market. Soon, I was pregnant. Ten months later, Lily was born. Ethan was overjoyed, but I’d often find him just staring at the phone. I knew he wanted to tell his parents. But his pride wouldn’t let him. I secretly got his father’s number and, after Ethan was asleep, I called and told him he had a granddaughter who was almost a month old. His father, who was shooting a film in another state, was ecstatic. He said he’d leave immediately to come see her. I never could have imagined that one phone call would plunge all of us into hell. Maybe he was too excited. On the drive, his car collided with a wrong-way driver on the highway overpass. The car burst into flames and was knocked off the bridge. He was killed instantly. When we got to the funeral home, I still couldn’t believe it. The kind of accident you only see on the news had actually happened to us. Ethan and I knelt before the altar. His mother walked over, said nothing, and slapped me across the face. I didn’t flinch. At that moment, I felt I deserved it. “This is your fault,” she said, her eyes vacant. “My son, because he wouldn’t listen to me about you. And now my husband, dead because of you.” She stared at me, her voice trembling. “What did you ever do to my family to deserve this?” She lunged at me again, but Ethan pulled her back, holding her tight. The sound of her raw, desolate grief filled the room. Ethan held her, his eyes red, but he never looked at me. He didn’t say a single word. That silence hurt more than any of his mother’s accusations. After the funeral, after everyone had left, it happened to be Ethan’s birthday. I carefully made him a bowl of noodles. He just stared at it until the broth was completely cold. Then his eyes moved, and with a calm, almost joking tone, he spoke to me for the first time in days. “Claire,” he said, “maybe it would have been better if I’d never met you.” 7 The noodles in front of me were cold. I put down my chopsticks. Ethan looked at me, seeming both surprised and not surprised at all. “Are you sure?” he asked. “The debt I owed your family,” I said, “I think I’ve paid it off by now.” Finally saying the words I’d held in for so long made my voice feel lighter. “Besides, there are plenty of women who would love to be the next Mrs. Hayes.” “Okay,” was all he said. He stood up, as if he were being chased, and hurried out of the noodle shop. After the mandatory waiting period, I called him to arrange a time to go to the courthouse. The divorce agreement was settled quickly. “You don’t want Lily?” he asked. “She’ll have a better life with you,” I said. “And besides, she doesn’t want to be with me.” After the lawyers finished, a clerk stamped our papers with a steel seal. And just like that, Ethan and I were no longer legally bound. Maybe it was the finality of it all, but the hard edges Ethan had built up over the years seemed to soften. He was silent for a long time, then he spoke, his voice low. “Claire, you’re her mother. The past… let’s just let it go. And if you’re ever struggling, there will always be a room for you at the estate.” I froze. After all these years, it was the closest I would ever get to an apology from him. But now, it meant nothing. I smiled. “No thanks. It wouldn’t be fair to your new girlfriend.” I added, “And I’m confident I can build the life I want for myself.” I stood up and walked out of the courthouse, my steps light. Ethan was still sitting there, maybe watching me, maybe just staring into space. 8 I moved out and didn’t see anyone from the Hayes family for a long time. After so many years out of the workforce, I quickly discovered how hard it was to get back in. While scrolling through job sites, I’d often see news about Ethan and Sophie. Sophie at a basketball game with him, Sophie on a trip to Japan with him. In the photos, Ethan looked thinner, his eyes colder and more melancholic. Sophie was always nestled by his side, her expression adoring. Someone on Twitter called Sophie a homewrecker, and she replied directly: *“Sorry, but he’s single.”* My old friends called, shocked. To each of them, I gave the same reply: *“Yes, Ethan and I are divorced.”* They all expressed their sympathy, but only one of them, Maya, asked the right question: *“So what are you doing now?”* I told her, *“Looking for a job, but not having much luck. You know of anything?”* Maya’s reply was triumphant. *“I was waiting for you to ask. You let Ethan snatch you up way too early, had a kid right away, and spent years being nothing but the woman behind the man. From now on, you’re working for me. Love, men, relationships… they’re all unreliable. Power and money, that’s what you can count on.”* … I couldn’t help but smile at the long string of texts from Maya. She was a partner at a film production company. I started as her assistant. I worked long hours, and even though my boss was my friend, I was determined not to slack off. On Valentine’s Day, flowers were being delivered to the office all day. I assumed the flurry of romance had nothing to do with me. Then I got a call. I thought it was my lunch delivery and told the guy to just leave it at the front desk. But he insisted. The item was too valuable; he had to deliver it to me personally. It wasn’t food. It was a ring. A black velvet box, lined with deep red silk. In the center sat a pink diamond ring, its facets catching the light and throwing off a blinding sparkle. There was no note, no card. But I knew who it was from. I put the ring back in the box and had the courier return it. A few hours later, a notification popped up on my phone, from the one app I hadn’t blocked him on. A Venmo message: *“I thought you wanted it.”* I stared at the message for a few seconds, then typed back: *“I don’t want it anymore.”* His reply was instant. A single word. *“Hah.”* I didn’t respond. I just blocked him, severing the last line of communication we had left.

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My husband Leo’s car was blocking the neighbor’s driveway. I grabbed the spare key to move it. He had just left for a three-day conference in the city. I slid into the driver’s seat. The navigation screen was still on, displaying his recent history. One address had been searched repeatedly, and even saved as a favorite. “Annie’s Place: 7 Crescent Moon Bay, Unit 901” I scrolled through the history, my fingertips turning to ice. For the last six months, there were regular trips to that address, with the return time always logged after midnight. He’d told me he was working late, entertaining clients. I took pictures of everything on the screen, then dialed my father-in-law’s number. “Dad, Leo has been going to Crescent Moon Bay a lot recently. Do we have any relatives over there?” There was a pause on the other end of the line. When my father-in-law finally spoke, his voice was tense. “Don’t panic, Sarah. I’m on my way.” 1 Less than half an hour later, the doorbell rang insistently. My father-in-law stood on the porch, his usually immaculate suit jacket buttoned incorrectly. “Where is he?” he demanded, his sharp eyes scanning the room. I held out my phone, the screen facing him. “7 Crescent Moon Bay, Unit 901. Dad, do you know where that is? Leo told me he had work dinners every Wednesday and Friday.” His gaze fell to the screen, and his face turned ashen. He didn’t answer, but I saw his hand tremble slightly. “Maybe… maybe it’s a colleague’s place. He has a lot of young people in his department…” “Dad,” I said, taking my phone back and looking him straight in the eye. “What kind of male colleague would name his home ‘Annie’s Place’?” All the strength seemed to drain out of him. He sank onto the bench by the door and covered his face with his hands. “That bastard,” he rasped. “His mother mentioned something last month, said he was getting a little too close to a female coworker…” He looked up, his eyes bloodshot. “Sarah, it’s my fault. I didn’t raise him right. I’ll handle this for you.” “Dad, this is beyond your control now,” I said, handing him a tissue. “I just want an explanation.” “What are you going to do?” he asked, grabbing my wrist with surprising strength. “If this gets out, his career is over!” “Did he think about his career when he was doing this?” My voice was devoid of any warmth. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to make a scene at his office.” I walked over to the balcony. The city lights were just beginning to twinkle. “He’s away at a conference, right? That gives me some time to pay a visit to this ‘Annie’.” “No!” My father-in-law shot up and blocked my path. “It’s too dangerous for you to go alone! A woman like that, she’s capable of anything!” “What’s she going to do, eat me?” I said, looking at him. “Dad, I’m not going there to fight. I just need to see it for myself. I need the closure.” He stared at me, his expression a mixture of emotions. Finally, he sighed and dropped his hand. “Fine. If you have to go, I’ll go with you. I want to see what kind of trash he’s been messing with.” “You can’t come,” I said, stopping him. “If you go, are you going to disown him on the spot, or are you going to beg on his behalf? Either way, it will just escalate things and make him feel like we’re the ones cornering him.” “So what, we just sit here and do nothing?” “What does Leo care about most? His reputation. His position as a junior partner.” I pulled out my phone and started scrolling through my contacts. “What do you think would happen if I anonymously sent his navigation history and the address of that apartment to the DA’s office?” “You wouldn’t dare!” He snatched the phone from my hand. “Do you want to ruin his life?” “He ruined my life first!” I stared him down. “Dad, what do you think his main competitor, that guy Mark, would do with this information? Do you think Leo’s promotion would still be a sure thing?” The color drained from my father-in-law’s face. His hand went limp, and the phone fell onto the sofa. I picked it up and put it back in my pocket. 2 “I’m not actually going to send it,” I said. “But Leo needs to understand that the thing he values most is now on very thin ice.” I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. “Where are you going?” “Crescent Moon Bay,” I said, opening the door. “Don’t worry, I’m not going inside. I just want to know the name of the owner of Unit 901.” “And then what?” “And then,” I said, pausing, “I found something else in his car.” I pulled up a photo of a crumpled receipt on my phone and showed it to him. “A receipt from a pharmacy last month. For prenatal vitamins.” “What?” He shot up from the bench, nearly losing his balance. “Sarah, what are you saying?” “He told me he was out of town with his boss on a business trip last month. Dad, who do you think he was really with at that prenatal appointment?” My father-in-law stared at the photo, frozen, unable to speak. I walked out, leaving his heavy, ragged breathing behind me. The elevator’s metal doors reflected my face—expressionless, but with eyes as cold as steel. My phone buzzed. A text from Leo: *“Made it to the hotel, babe. This conference is a big one. I’ll call you tomorrow. Love you.”* I slowly typed back: *“Okay. I have some good news for you too.”* Charging over to Crescent Moon Bay without a plan would only tip them off. I called my sister, Claire. “Claire, I think Leo is cheating on me.” The other end of the line went silent. “Do you have proof? That scumbag!” I told her about the navigation history and the receipt. “Send me the address. I’ll have someone run a check on the owner, the property records, everything. What’s your plan? Are you going to confront him?” “No,” I said. “Not yet. I need to know who this woman is, and if he’s moved any of our assets. When I kick him to the curb, I want to make sure he leaves with nothing but the clothes on his back.” My sister laughed. “Alright, Sarah! Leave it to me. Owner’s info, building access records, financial transactions… I’ll get you everything. You just stay calm. Don’t let him suspect anything.” “He’s back in three days.” “That’s plenty of time. I’ll be in touch.” After I hung up, I went back into the living room. My father-in-law was still sitting there, looking like he’d aged ten years. “Sarah…” “Dad,” I interrupted, “stay out of this. And don’t tip him off. I’ll handle it.” He opened his mouth, then just waved a tired hand. The rest of the day, I acted completely normal. I even cooked dinner as usual. My father-in-law barely ate, his eyes constantly darting in my direction. That afternoon, a message from my sister came through. “Got it. The owner is Annie Wen, 26, single. She’s a VP at a consulting firm that works with Leo’s company. Parking garage surveillance shows her red car parked next to Leo’s every Wednesday and Friday night. The times match.” A few blurry but identifiable screenshots followed. It was him. And a photo of Annie, her arm linked through his, a triumphant smile on her face. I replied: “Keep digging. Especially the money.” I decided to take a drive to Crescent Moon Bay. I told my father-in-law I was just going for a walk. He just nodded, his eyes full of a complicated mix of emotions. I parked across the street from the apartment complex. A few minutes later, a flashy red Porsche Macan pulled up. The window rolled down, and it was her. Perfectly made-up, smiling as she talked on the phone. I watched her disappear into the underground garage, and I felt the blood turn to ice in my veins. I texted my sister: *“I just saw her. I need you to check their shared expenses, any money he’s moved without my knowledge.”* She replied instantly: *“On it. I’ll dig up everything. Are you… are you holding up okay?”* I typed back two words: *“I’m fine.”* My heart was dead, but my mind was clearer than ever. Now, it was their turn to suffer. 3 I drove home, my face a mask. My father-in-law was waiting for me. “Sarah, did you… see her?” “Yeah, I saw the car,” I said, my voice flat as I took off my shoes. “I’m tired. I’m not eating.” I went into the bedroom and locked the door, collapsing onto the bed. The tears I’d been holding back finally came, soaking the pillow. Tears for the five years of my marriage, for the trust I’d so blindly given, for the promise of a life together that was now just a lie. When the tears finally stopped, I got up and splashed cold water on my face. My reflection stared back, eyes red and swollen. “Sarah,” I said to myself, “that’s enough. Tears are useless.” He would be back in two days. I opened my laptop and started organizing. The navigation screenshots, the owner’s information, the surveillance photos, Annie’s picture… I encrypted and backed up everything. Messages from my sister started rolling in. “Found regular charges at a high-end sushi restaurant. Every Wednesday or Friday, on Leo’s card.” “Annie posted a picture on Instagram of a new watch. Same model as the one you gave Leo last year, just a different color. The purchase date matches.” “No hotel records. Looks like the apartment is their main spot.” “Still working on the bank records. He’s being careful.” Reading through it all, my heart was numb. This wasn’t a one-time mistake. This was a second life he had carefully constructed. The next day, I went into his home office, pretending to organize his files. In a hidden compartment of his old briefcase, I found a flash drive I’d never seen before. I plugged it into my computer. It contained a single encrypted folder. I called my sister, and she had someone remotely crack it. Thirty minutes later, the folder was open. Inside were stock trading records. My sister called immediately, her voice tight with suppressed rage. “Leo has been liquidating a joint investment account. Over the last six months, he’s cashed out over nine hundred thousand dollars!” “The money was funneled through several third-party accounts and ended up with Annie!” “He used it for the down payment on the Crescent Moon Bay apartment! The deed is in her name!” My hand trembled on the mouse. Nine hundred thousand dollars. That was the money we had been saving to buy a bigger house. Any lingering hope I had for him died in that moment. That evening, I went to the supermarket and bought the freshest ingredients. My father-in-law watched me come in, laden with grocery bags. “Sarah…?” “Leo’s coming home tomorrow,” I said calmly. “I’m making him a welcome-home dinner.” My father-in-law’s lips moved, but no words came out. He just looked at me with a mixture of guilt and helplessness. All the pieces were in place. The evidence, the lawyer, and my own dead heart. Welcome home, Leo. He arrived the next afternoon. I was in the kitchen, the sweet and sour aroma of his favorite pork ribs filling the house. The table was set with all his favorite dishes. My father-in-law sat in the living room, pretending to read the newspaper, his eyes darting nervously toward the kitchen. The sound of a key in the lock. “Honey, Dad, I’m home!” Leo walked in, dragging his suitcase, a weary but happy smile on his face. He kicked off his shoes and headed straight for the kitchen, his arms open to hug me from behind. I picked up a platter of food and turned at the exact right moment, neatly avoiding his embrace. I smiled, a perfectly calibrated, welcoming smile. “You’re back. Go wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.” He seemed to hesitate for a second, but my movements were so natural, he didn’t question it. “Okay! It’s good to be home!” He walked to the table and reached for a piece of pork. “Wash your hands first,” I said, my voice gentle, betraying nothing. “Right, right, of course!” He went to the bathroom, humming happily. My father-in-law stood up and started setting out the rice bowls, never once looking at his son. The atmosphere at the dinner table was strangely harmonious. Leo was starving. He ate heartily, regaling us with detailed, witty stories about his “conference.” I listened quietly, smiling, nodding, serving him more food, playing the part of the perfect wife. My father-in-law barely touched his food, just stared down into his soup. When the meal was over, Leo leaned back in his chair, satisfied. “I’m so full! Nothing beats a home-cooked meal!” He looked at me, his eyes full of warmth. “Thanks, honey. You worked hard.” I put down my chopsticks, picked up my napkin, and slowly, deliberately, wiped my mouth. The smile on my face faded. I looked him straight in the eye. “Are you full?” I asked, my voice soft. “Huh? Yeah, I’m stuffed.” He was starting to sense the shift in the mood, his expression turning serious. “Good. Now that you’re full, let’s talk.” “Talk about what?” “Let’s talk about Crescent Moon Bay,” I said. “Number 7, Unit 901.”

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Six years after I cut off all contact with my parents, my adopted brother secretly reached out to my wife. He told her my parents missed me terribly and hoped we could all be a family again before it was too late. I touched the scar on my forehead. I got it when I was eight, the day my brother slammed a door on my hand, breaking the fingers I used to play the piano. When I tried to hit him back, my father stopped me. My wife, unable to bear the sight of my brother’s sad, puppy-dog eyes, tried to reason with me. “It’s ancient history, honey. Just let it go.” My daughter, clutching a new Barbie doll my parents had sent, chimed in, her voice indignant. “Daddy, I can’t live without my grandparents and my uncle! You have to make up with them! If you don’t, then I don’t want you to be my daddy anymore!” A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I nodded slowly. “Fine.” 1 The moment I handed her the divorce papers, Evelyn’s face was a mask of disbelief. “Just because I want you to make peace with your parents?” “Yes. Just because of that.” “What about our daughter? She’s only five. What’s going to happen to her?” Just then, our daughter, Chloe, charged into the room like a tiny bull, slamming into my leg. Pain shot up my shin. “You’re a monster, Daddy!” she shrieked. “Grandma and Grandpa didn’t raise you to be a monster!” I gritted my teeth against the pain. “Who taught you to talk like that?” Chloe looked guilty for a second, her eyes darting to my brother, Ethan, who was hiding behind the door. He’d been my father’s best friend’s son, and he’d lived with us since we were kids. “It’s my fault, big brother!” Ethan said, his voice dripping with faux innocence, a look I had come to despise. It was the same look that had gotten me into trouble countless times. “I was telling Chloe the story of Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves, and she must have picked up a bad word.” But Evelyn and Chloe were already defending him. “Jacob, you’re always so busy with work. You can’t blame Ethan for helping to look after Chloe.” “Daddy, I love Uncle Ethan the most! If you’re mean to him, I don’t want you anymore!” I hadn’t said a word, but the two of them were already leaping to his defense. I saw a flicker of triumph in Ethan’s eyes, and the disgust and hatred in my gut reached a boiling point. 2 I didn’t waste any more words. I handed the pen to Evelyn. “Sign it. You’re free to be with whoever you want.” She looked at me, her eyes full of disappointment. “Can you please stop being so dramatic? I just want our daughter to have more family in her life. Your family.” My head felt like it was going to explode. I remembered when Ethan first came to live with us. My parents had told me, “You’re three months older than Ethan. From now on, you have a brother. You need to take care of him.” He wasn’t named Ethan then. My dad said since his parents had both died, he should take our last name. He was just a small, helpless little boy. I gave him my treasured comic books, the chocolates my mom bought for me, the toy cars my dad brought home. “Can I really think of this as my home from now on, big brother?” Ethan had asked, his eyes wide. I remembered my parents’ words and nodded. But from that day on, he was always on the verge of tears, always looking at me with a wounded expression. My parents thought I was bullying him. They called me selfish and gave all my things to him. When I was six and a half, my room became his. The bookshelf that held all my comics became his. When I was eight, the piano lessons I’d been taking for four years were canceled after Ethan “accidentally” slammed a door on my fingers. When I was twelve, my birthday party was replaced with a celebration for Ethan’s win at a dance competition. The cake was mango-flavored, his favorite. My parents took endless photos of him. No one remembered I was allergic to mangoes. When I was eighteen, I was forbidden from entering a math competition because, as my parents said, “We need to save that money to hire a better piano teacher for Ethan.” When I was twenty-two, years of malnutrition caught up with me. I developed a severe stomach condition that required expensive surgery. My parents refused to help. Instead, they bought business-class tickets to Europe to watch Ethan compete in a piano competition. I nearly died on the way to the hospital. That’s when I met Evelyn. She was horrified by my story and swore she would always be on my side. Six years later, she was the one asking me to let them all back into my life. 3 “I’m not signing this, Jacob,” Evelyn said, her voice firm. I ignored her and went to the bedroom to pack. In the back of the closet, I found a stash of expensive gifts. A master-crafted tea set, a high-end massage chair for the elderly, a pair of luxury leather shoes for men. They were well-hidden. Evelyn rushed in, as if she’d just remembered. “What is this?” she asked, the divorce papers still in her hand. She couldn’t meet my eyes. Chloe held up her Barbie doll, her voice smug. “Those are the presents Mommy bought for Grandma, Grandpa, and Uncle Ethan.” “And that’s not all, Daddy!” she taunted, sticking her tongue out. “You don’t get anything because you were bad!” She was trying to provoke me. I started walking toward her. Ethan ran in and shoved me back. “Don’t you dare touch Chloe! She’s their only grandchild! You have no right to hit her, even if you are her father!” That was the last straw. I grabbed his collar and punched him, hard. “Aah!” he screamed. Chloe immediately activated her smartwatch. “Daddy’s hitting Uncle Ethan! Grandma, Grandpa, come quick and teach him a lesson! Daddy’s a monster! I don’t want him to be my daddy anymore!” 4 I snatched the watch from her. Of course. They had a group chat. It was called “Chloe and her favorite Grandma, Grandpa, Mommy, and Uncle.” I was the only one left out. The chat was a lively, happy world without me. My daughter, who had stopped sharing her kindergarten stories with me, told them all about the new cute boy in her class. Evelyn, who had been coming home later and later from work, was taking Chloe to “family dinners” all the time. With her bonus, she had arranged for my parents to have full medical check-ups and had booked a European tour for Ethan. Everyone in the chat was so happy together. My father, who was always so stern with me, praised his granddaughter for being just like him, able to spot a bad guy a mile away. My mother, always so easily swayed, gushed about how beautiful and thoughtful Evelyn was, and how she wished Evelyn had met Ethan first. *“My son is getting so old, and he’s still not married. It’s so worrying.”* And then there was Ethan, of course. Calling Evelyn his “dear sister-in-law,” all shy and sweet. It had clearly melted Evelyn’s heart. She hadn’t bought me a gift in years, but she was constantly sending them money. “Jacob, let me explain,” Evelyn said, her voice pleading. She insisted she was just trying to pave the way for me to reconcile with my parents. “Ethan isn’t as bad as you say he is. Why can’t you just try to get along with them?” Get along? I couldn’t stop myself. I slapped her across the face. 5 Seeing me hit the two people she cared about most, Chloe went ballistic. She started kicking and punching me. “Grandpa was right! You’re a devil! You broke your own fingers and blamed it on Uncle Ethan! You deserve to have no one love you! Get out! Get out! I don’t want you as my father! I like Uncle Ethan better! So do Grandma and Grandpa and Mommy!” I was stunned. This was the daughter I had raised. I had made every single one of her baby food purees. I had bought every toy and picture book in this house. Evelyn was always busy with work; I was the one who put her to bed at night and took her to kindergarten in the morning. Five years of my life, poured into her. And this is what I got. “You deserve it.” It hurt. There’s no denying that. So I decided to just lay it all out. “Chloe, I’m only going to give you one chance to take that back.” “I won’t! I hate you! I don’t want you to be my dad! I want Uncle Ethan! He’s handsome, he can play the piano, and he gives me candy! I like him more than you!” Every parent is worried about cavities. I limited her sugar for her own good. Seeing the cold fury on my face, Evelyn tried to intervene. “She’s just a child, Jacob. Don’t take it so seriously.” In her eyes, a parent should always forgive their child, no matter what. In her eyes, she was doing this for my own good, trying to mend my broken family. I was the one making a scene, threatening divorce. But I couldn’t take it anymore. 6 “Jacob, why are you still so stubborn?” I thought I was dreaming. I could hear my parents’ voices. The front door opened. I had forgotten they had the code. Chloe ran to them, her face beaming. “Grandma, Grandpa, you’re finally here to punish Daddy!” Seeing them all standing there together, a happy family, my heart turned to ice. My mother looked at me with a hint of apology, but before she could speak, she saw Ethan, clutching his bruised face. “Ethan, who did this?” she shrieked, her face contorting with rage, like a lioness protecting her cub. My father’s voice boomed through the house. “Who else could it be! It had to be Jacob! Evelyn, get him out of this house! If we don’t teach him a lesson now, what if he hurts my precious granddaughter next?” Evelyn, playing the part of the dutiful daughter-in-law, tugged at my sleeve. “Honey, hitting people is wrong. Why don’t you just apologize?” She knew I had my bags packed, but she was still expecting me to back down. 7 I met Ethan’s triumphant gaze. A bitter smile touched my lips. “No matter what piece of trash I pick up, you just have to have it, don’t you?” He looked startled. “What are you talking about, big brother? I don’t understand.” My father grabbed my collar. “Jacob, I am ordering you to apologize. And don’t you dare threaten my wonderful daughter-in-law with divorce. She works so hard to support this family. If you have any guts, you’ll leave with nothing.” Evelyn tried to pull him off. “Dad, this is between me and Jacob. Please, don’t get involved.” “Hmph! If he hadn’t pretended to be sick all those years ago, you never would have missed Ethan’s performance. You two could have been together by now.” I shot a sarcastic look at Evelyn. No wonder the photo of a boy’s back in her desk drawer had looked so familiar. The boy who had taken her breath away. She had told me not to be jealous, that he didn’t even know she existed. Any last shred of feeling I had for her vanished. I signed the divorce papers and picked up my suitcase. Evelyn tried to stop me, but my parents held her back. Chloe clung to her mother’s leg. “Don’t worry about him, Mommy! He’s just a stay-at-home dad! He has nowhere to go! Grandma and Grandpa said he’ll come crawling back after a few days of being hungry.” While Evelyn hesitated, I walked out the door and didn’t look back.

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The man I loved fell in love with someone else while trying to bring me back to life. When I woke up, Ethan asked me what I wanted. I was about to say I wanted to finish our wedding, but then, lines of text flooded my vision. *“Omg the male lead is so devoted, he’s a literal god but he still hasn’t forgotten about resurrecting his mortal side-character ex.”* *“The side character is so shameless. She just got brought back to life and she’s already demanding a title? Our girl has been with him through thick and thin for a million years!”* *“Whatever, she’ll just get taken back to the heavens, act like a brat, and get ignored. That’s when the male lead will finally realize our girl is his one true love!”* I thought for a moment, then replied, “I want a divorce.” 1 Ethan froze. He looked almost exactly as he had the day I died, only even more handsome, more ethereal. “Rose, are you joking?” he asked, his voice cracking with disbelief. *“The competitive female side character wants a divorce? That makes no sense!”* *“This old hag is definitely just threatening him to get what she wants. So pathetic! Why would the author write such a trashy character?”* *“Just wait, our girl is about to show up with their kid. Let’s see how this plays out for the side character!”* The words scrolling through my mind were vile. Apparently, I was seeing the live comments from a webnovel called *The CEO’s Rebellious Darling: Heaven’s Emperor, Please Be Gentle.* Ethan was the male lead, a talented but aloof and arrogant prodigy. I was the “white moonlight” ex-wife he was trying to save, the one who had died protecting him from a divine trial. To bring me back, he had embarked on a cultivation journey with the female lead, a half-demon, half-immortal named Lily. They were a classic enemies-to-lovers pair, supporting and growing with each other over nearly a million years. Lily confessed her love for him multiple times, but Ethan, with me still in his heart, always refused her. Until, during a particularly difficult trial, he couldn’t break through his cultivation bottleneck. So he slept with her. She got pregnant. Twice. Their first was a daughter. Now she was pregnant with their son. And me? After being resurrected, my personality would supposedly take a dark turn. I would become jealous and petty, constantly fighting with Lily in the celestial court. I would even frame her for things, causing her to have a miscarriage. Ethan would come to despise me, and the next time I acted out, he would destroy me with a single blast of divine energy. My soul, scattered to the winds. What a joke. 2 “Ethie-bear! Rose must still be groggy from her million-year nap. After all, she’s still just a mortal, her human body is so frail. Why don’t you let her rest here in the celestial court for a while?” A fairy in flowing red robes floated toward us on a cloud. Her belly was slightly swollen, and a miniature version of herself stood beside her. “Daddy-bear! Up!” The little girl, munching on a candy apple, ran straight for Ethan. “Lily-bug, I thought we agreed, no more candy until your new teeth come in,” Ethan said, his hand, which had been holding mine, automatically reaching out to scoop the child into his arms. *“There it is! The pet names! Ethie-bear and Lily-bug! Even their daughter calls him that, so cute! He’s a god but he still lets them call him that. This little family is everything!”* *“Is someone feeling a little…extra? I’m not naming names.”* *“Our girl is too sweet, offering to let the side character stay in the celestial court! It’s so sad she doesn’t know what’s coming.”* I bit my lip and tried, “My love.” Ethan didn’t react. He was too busy bantering with Lily. “My love!” I said, louder this time. That finally got his attention. He put the child down and knelt before me, pulling a box of celestial pills from his sleeve. He had the same shy look on his face I remembered from when we were young. “Rose, I’m sorry. It’s been so long since anyone called me that. Let me introduce you. This is Lily, my partner on my cultivation journey. When she said your mortal body was frail, she didn’t mean it as an insult. Human bodies are just… fragile.” “So… tonight, I’ll personally transfer my cultivation to you. Then you can become an immortal, just like me, and we’ll never have to be apart again.” I pointed to the mother and daughter. “She has your daughter, she’s carrying your child, and you’re telling me, in front of her, that you and I will never be apart?” As expected, Lily’s eyes welled up. The little girl started hitting me with her tiny fists. “You bad woman! You made my mommy cry! Apologize to my mommy!” *“The side character is playing the innocent victim now? There, there, Lily-bug, don’t cry.”* *“If the side character wants a divorce so bad, she should just leave. She can jump from the God-Slaying Terrace and go back to the mortal world.”* *“She’s just saying that. That bitch would never give up the wealth of the heavens and the promise of eternal life.”* As I turned to leave, Ethan grabbed my arm, and at the same time, grabbed Lily’s as she was about to turn away. “Rose, where are you going?” “To the God-Slaying Terrace. I told you, my wish is to divorce you.” He frowned, confused. “Just because Lily and I have children? Are you really that petty?” *Was I petty?* My husband had fallen in love with another woman while trying to resurrect me. Wasn’t I allowed to be angry? “Let me go.” I didn’t want to be the vicious person the comments described. Leaving was my only choice. He did let go. He let go of Lily’s hand and wrapped his arms around me from behind, holding me tight. “My only goal on this journey was to bring you back. Without you, nothing I’ve done has any meaning.” My own eyes started to tear up. We had been through so much together when we were young. Maybe I should trust my Ethan, not these strange, scrolling words. 3 “Daddy-bear! Mommy’s tummy is bleeding!” Lily was clutching her stomach, her face pale. Ethan let go of me and transferred some of his energy to her to stop the bleeding. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he didn’t push her away, just lifted her into his arms. “Lily is showing signs of premature labor, Rose. I’ll be right back.” She was having his child. It was his duty as a father to be there. I couldn’t just let an innocent baby die. Especially not Ethan’s child. But a selfish part of me thought, *if I hadn’t died, we would have had children. We would have been a normal, happy couple.* “Rose, Lily is just a good friend who happens to be carrying my children. Don’t overthink it. There’s no love between us.” My nails dug into my palms. I swallowed my resentment. “Okay.” 4 Ethan was still worried I would jump from the God-Slaying Terrace. He had me locked in a lavish palace, guarded by hundreds of celestial soldiers. The servants were forbidden to speak to me. I had no way of finding the Terrace, no sense of time passing. *“Omg that was a close one, the side character didn’t do anything and Lily had a healthy baby boy! The male lead said he looks just like him when he was born!”* *“Does anyone else think the side character is looking a little…old?”* *“A day in the heavens is a year on earth. The male lead has been with Lily for fifteen days while she recovers from childbirth. The side character is a thirty-year-old hag now.”* Thirty, an old hag? Ethan and Lily were a million years old, but they still looked like teenagers. I looked in the mirror. There were fine lines around my eyes, and my skin had turned a sallow yellow. I was aging. One day, two days, ten days. I missed my parents. I missed my family. I never got to see my mother’s hair turn gray, never saw my father grow old. I never brought honor to my family. Back then, I was so consumed by Ethan. He needed a special cauldron for his cultivation, and our family was the only one in the region with the knowledge to forge it. No one believed that a cursed, star-crossed boy like him could ever become an immortal. So I knelt in our ancestral hall, bowing until my forehead was bloody, begging my parents, my elders. The only condition they gave was that Ethan had to marry into our family. On our wedding night, a great storm raged. I used my own body to shield him from a divine trial. He broke through to the next stage of cultivation, becoming the most powerful mortal in the land. And I died. How much pain must my parents and my family have felt, seeing me sacrifice myself for a man. It wasn’t worth it. I didn’t understand then. I thought a young boy’s love could last forever. I couldn’t die of old age here. I had to go home. I had to make things right with my family. 5 “Rose, are you still mad at me?” Ethan’s voice was right behind me. I turned, and there he was, bathed in a holy light, more radiant than ever. And I was withering away. He wrapped his arms around me, holding me tight. “Rose, Lily had a boy. He looks just like me when I was born.” *“The Heaven’s Emperor has a great memory if he can remember what he looked like as a baby.”* He sighed. “Rose, will you call me ‘my love’ again?” I tried to push him away, but he was too strong. “When we were kids, you used to fight off all the bullies for me. Remember, Rose? You, a girl, wrestling with them, getting covered in mud and bruises. You won so many of their fighting crickets that we sold them at the market and bought four bags of sesame candy. We ate so much we just lay on the stone steps and watched the moon.” How could I forget? Under the moonlight, a tiny Ethan had bravely proposed to me. “I, Ethan, will marry Rose in ten years! I will never take another wife, never have a concubine! For this life, and all the lives to come, I will only love Rose! The stars are my witness, the heavens are my judge! If I break this vow…” Little Ethan scratched his head. I was laughing so hard, chewing on my candy, that I fell over. “If you break this vow, you’ll never get to eat sesame candy again!” To a six-year-old Ethan and a five-year-old me, there was no worse fate. “Rose, I’ll give you half of my cultivation. You won’t get old anymore. Please, don’t be mad at me.” The lights suddenly went out. My robes were being untied. Ethan had somehow moved me to the bed. I closed my eyes. The comments flooded my vision again. *“Nooo, he’s going to be tainted!”* *“Poor Lily-bug, all alone with two kids! Author, stop torturing the female lead!”* *“See, I knew the side character couldn’t stand getting old. And she was talking about divorcing him and jumping from the God-Slaying Terrace. She’s so fake.”* A wave of anger washed over me. A normal mortal woman, jumping from the God-Slaying Terrace, with nothing. How was I supposed to survive in a world teeming with gods and demons? How was I supposed to find my family, who had long since been reincarnated? If Ethan was willing to give me his power, why shouldn’t I take it? 6 The next morning, my face was young again. And I could feel a strange power humming within me. It must have been Ethan’s cultivation. He was still asleep, holding me so tightly I could barely move. I tried to sit up. “Lily-bug… stop it…” he murmured in his sleep. When we were making love, he had told me a thousand times that he loved me, only me. But now, in his most unguarded moment, he was thinking of her. *“The side character should open her eyes and see who the male lead really loves in his subconscious!”* *“The side character only spent fifteen years with him. Our Lily spent a million years with him. It’s obvious who he loves more.”* *“The side character thought she could die and become his unforgettable love, then come back and win his heart. Too bad. The one who isn’t loved is the third wheel. The angst is delicious!”* *“When is she going to jump already? I can’t take it anymore.”* I shook my head, but I couldn’t get rid of the comments. So I decided to just lean into it. “In that case, why don’t you tell me where the God-Slaying Terrace is.” 7 The comments exploded. They didn’t seem to know I could see them. *“Is she talking to us?”* *“Is the side character crazy? Or am I crazy? How can she see the comments?”* *“Side character, if you can see this, make a heart shape.”* A heart shape? I didn’t know what that was, but I pointed to my own heart. “Like this?” The comments went silent for a moment, then flooded in, a chaotic torrent. “You guys, slow down, I can’t read this fast,” I said, my head starting to throb. *“Does that mean she saw all the mean things we said about her?”* *“We weren’t wrong, though. She is a bitch.”* *“But she hasn’t done anything evil yet.”* *“I wish our Lily-bug could see this. Why did it have to be the character I hate the most?”* *“Guys, has anyone noticed that the next chapter is gone?!”* *“OMG you’re right, it’s blank! Someone message the author and ask if it’s a bug!”* *“I thought this was a completed novel. I’ve read it a bunch of times.”* *“Does that mean… our comments can change the plot?”* *“Don’t get ahead of yourselves. She’s just a villainous side character.”* Side character or not, I was the protagonist of my own life. “So… can you tell me where the God-Slaying Terrace is now?” 8 Following the comments’ directions, I slipped out of the palace. Ethan’s cultivation allowed me to turn invisible and evade the celestial guards. “This is the God-Slaying Terrace,” I said, looking at a well surrounded by a rainbow-colored mist. Through the clouds, I thought I could see my deceased family. “Mom, Dad, your daughter has been unfilial. I’m coming to find you.” Just as I was about to jump, a red light shot out and wrapped around me like a rope. “Where are you going, big sister Rose?” Lily asked, holding her baby. She looked weak, and there was blood seeping from under her robes. Her eyes were red, as if she’d been crying. “I’m jumping from the God-Slaying Terrace to make way for you two.” I tried to use my cultivation to break free, but the rope only tightened. “This is the Immortal-Binding Rope. The stronger your cultivation, the harder it is to escape.” She dragged her weak body over and knelt before me. “Are you mad at me, big sister Rose? If I’ve done something to offend you, I apologize.” The comments started fawning over her again. *“Our Lily-bug looks even worse than when the side character framed her and caused her to miscarry.”* *“I’m starting to regret telling the side character where the Terrace is. She should have just stayed in her lane and been the villain.”* *“The female lead is apologizing, and she hasn’t even done anything wrong!”* *“The side character is just using us to bully the female lead!”* *“Next time she asks for directions, I’m giving her the wrong ones and letting her get into trouble.”* Hah. These commenters were so quick to jump to conclusions and so hypocritical. I didn’t have time for them. I focused on trying to conceal my cultivation so I could escape. I had started cultivating at the same time as Ethan, and I had actually progressed faster than him. I had only pretended to be weaker to protect his ego. If I hadn’t died before breaking through to the next stage, I might have been just as powerful as he was now. Lily must have sensed the rope loosening. She chanted a few words under her breath. “I’m not giving Ethie-bear to you. We’re soulmates. You should just do your part and hate me. That’s enough.” A small, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. Something was wrong. Suddenly, the rope around me vanished. Lily fainted, and the baby, who had fallen to the ground, started wailing. Ethan arrived, his brow furrowed. Seeing the scene, he shot me a look of pure hatred. “Lily-bug told me you were jealous of her, but I didn’t believe it. I thought you weren’t the type to be petty. I never loved her, my heart has always been with you. Why couldn’t you just leave her alone? She was worried you would be in danger if you returned to the mortal world, so she tried to stop you. And you attacked her to get free!” “I never knew you could be so cruel. She just gave birth, she’s weak. Now she’s hemorrhaging. Are you trying to kill her? Bringing you back was my obsession for a million years. Now that my wish has been fulfilled, we are even.” He picked up Lily, his eyes red. “You wanted a divorce? Fine. I’ll give you a divorce.” He cut off a lock of his hair and threw it at my feet. As he left, he sneered, “You have no idea what the mortal world is like now. I bet in three days, you’ll be on your knees, praying at my statue, begging me to come get you.” I turned my back to him and swallowed the last of my tears. “You’re mistaken, Your Majesty. You and I… we will never meet again.” And I jumped.

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During freshman orientation, my boyfriend, Leo, gave the hot chocolate I’d bought for myself to his “girl best friend,” Fiona. This time, I didn’t get mad. I didn’t get jealous. I didn’t throw a fit. I just looked at him calmly and said, “Leo, this isn’t working. Let’s break up.” I was completely serious. He just laughed, that cocky, careless laugh of his. “You mean it this time, Chloe?” I nodded. He pulled out his phone and, right in front of me, blocked my number. “Alright, Chloe. Let’s make this breakup last a little longer than usual. Give me some peace and quiet. Let me see what other girls are out there in college.” Then he slung his arm around Fiona’s shoulders, turned, and walked away. One of his friends asked him, “Leo, man, Chloe’s gorgeous. Are you sure you want to break up with her?” He scoffed. “Nah. But we’re in college now. I gotta teach her a lesson, knock that attitude out of her. Let her sweat a little.” “You don’t believe me? I bet you, in less than three days, she’ll be crying and begging me to take her back.” That night, I called my mom. “Mom, I’ve decided to study abroad. Can you start the application process for me?” 1 It was the last day of orientation, and my period was due any minute. It was always a nightmare—cramps, bloating, the works. At home, I’d make a big pot of hot chocolate, which always helped. But here, in the middle of a college campus, that wasn’t an option. So I ordered one from a local cafe. The moment the delivery notification came through, my stomach cramped, hard. I had to go, now. I asked my boyfriend, Leo, to grab the delivery for me from the front gate, then ran for the nearest restroom. When I came back, my hot chocolate was in the hands of Fiona, Leo’s “girl best friend.” She had already drunk half of it. I frowned. “Leo, why did you give my drink to someone else?” My stomach was twisting in knots, and I’m sure I looked as terrible as I felt. “Oh, this was yours?” Fiona said, hopping over to me like an annoying grasshopper and holding out the cup. “Sorry, Fluffy… I thought Leo bought it for me. I mean, out of all his friends, I’m the only one who drinks this stuff. My bad.” “Fluffy, you’re not mad, are you? Please don’t cry again, I can’t handle it…” I took a deep breath, trying to push down my irritation. “My name is Chloe, Fiona. Can you please stop with the ridiculous nicknames?” The way she drew out the “Flu” in “Fluffy” was dripping with a strange, mocking tone. “Chloe, Fluffy, what’s the difference?” she said with a shrug and a smirk, bouncing her leg. “You’re not even fluffy. Why do they call you that?” Leo’s friends all burst out laughing. “So, Leo’s little girlfriend is a cat?” “No wonder she’s so high-maintenance!” “Making our boy Leo get her deliveries for her!” The hot chocolate was forgotten. I was now the butt of their jokes, as if it was the most natural thing in the world for Fiona to just take my stuff. I looked at Leo. “What is this?” He was getting impatient. “It’s just a cup of hot chocolate, Chloe. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?” “You know…” I started, but I didn’t know how to finish. I couldn’t exactly announce to a group of guys that I was on my period. The cramps were getting worse, and I felt my face pale. “Know what?” Leo snapped. Fiona pointed at me and laughed. “Fluffy, you must have really bad cramps. You know what they say, if your cramps are that bad, you probably can’t have kids. Leo, you’re going to be heirless!” She paused, then added, “Okay, okay, don’t cry. Here, you can have it back.” She held the cup out to me, but I just grabbed Leo’s arm. “Apologize.” “What?” He looked at me like I was insane. “Chloe, you want me to apologize to you?” “Yes,” I said. “You gave my drink to someone else. You should apologize.” I was dead serious. Leo stared at me as if I’d grown a second head. “What, you want me to write a ten-thousand-word apology and post it on the campus bulletin board? Who do you think you are? And who gave you the right to order me around like your personal delivery boy in the first place?” I took another deep breath. “If you don’t apologize, we’re breaking up.” Before Leo could even respond, Fiona jumped in. “No, no, no, Fluffy, don’t do that! Leo and I are just friends! Don’t break up with him because of me!” That was it. I had reached my limit. “Fiona,” I yelled, “I’ve told you a million times, stop calling me Fluffy! Don’t you understand English? And what does our relationship have to do with you?” Leo snatched the half-empty cup from Fiona’s hand and threw it at my face. We were so close, I had no time to react. The hot chocolate splattered all over me, and the straw, by some cruel twist of fate, poked me right in the eye. In an instant, tears and hot chocolate were streaming down my face. 2 Through the blur, I heard Leo’s voice. “Always crying. Did your dad die or something? You wanted to break up? Fine. Just don’t come crawling back to me in three days. I want to see what other girls are out there in college. I mean, I can’t exactly marry someone whose major is swine reproduction, can I?” With that, he grabbed Fiona and walked away. I just stood there, stunned. He was right. My major was swine reproduction and herd management. But I had applied for English literature. I had gotten my acceptance letter for the English program. I had no idea how I had been switched to this… When Fiona found out, she had laughed hysterically. “Flu-uffy,” she’d drawn out, “hahaha, your name and your major are a perfect match! You’re both animals!” I had gotten into a huge fight with her over that. The next day, Leo had texted me: *“Chloe, Fiona and I are going to Yellowstone. Come if you want, don’t if you don’t.”* I was at the airport, at the gate, waiting. Leo and I had been planning a trip to Yellowstone since we were freshmen in high school. We’d heard it was beautiful, like a paradise on earth. I had been looking forward to it for so long. After we graduated, I had tried to make plans with him, but he had to go with Fiona to her hometown first. He was gone for days. When I confronted him, he’d said, “Chloe, can’t you have a little compassion? You know Fiona’s situation.” “She’s just going back to get her birth certificate and stuff for college. I’m just helping her out.” I did know Fiona’s situation. Her parents had died in a car crash when she was thirteen. She lived with her grandmother and her uncle. Her uncle and his wife were good to her. She had everything their own kids had, and more. Her uncle, probably trying to overcompensate, gave her a huge allowance. But she had gone off the rails. Smoking, drinking, hanging out at internet cafes, getting into fights. She had even spread a rumor that her uncle was stealing her inheritance. Once, she had even hit her aunt, putting her in the hospital. After that, no one dared to discipline her. She and her grandmother moved back into her parents’ old house. She had access to all the money her parents had left her. I honestly didn’t see what was so pitiable about her situation. Then, after graduation, it was time to choose a college. Leo and I had known each other since kindergarten. We were next-door neighbors. He had asked me out in middle school, but I’d told him to wait until college. He had asked me out again in high school, and at my birthday party, in front of all our family and friends, he had promised to “protect Chloe for the rest of his life.” I was touched. We encouraged each other, studied together, and planned to go to the same college. After we graduated high school, we officially started dating. Our test scores were similar, so we applied to the same university. But when my acceptance letter came, my major, which was supposed to be English, had been changed to swine reproduction. I had checked the “willing to be reassigned” box on my application, but still… It’s not that there’s anything wrong with animal husbandry, it’s a vital industry. But I’d only ever eaten bacon, I’d never even seen a pig in real life. My mom was worried. “Chloe, this has to be a sign. Let’s just send you to study abroad.” I knew she was right. But I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Leo, of being on the other side of the world from him. And I knew that if I went to the kind of prestigious school my mom had in mind, Leo and I would be finished. So I had smiled at my mom and said, “Swine reproduction isn’t so bad. I can get all my certifications in college, and when I graduate, I can go to Wyoming, buy some land, and raise cows and sheep and pigs… maybe even some exotic animals.” I had even added, “Farming is a noble profession, you know.” My mom had just laughed. 3 And so the matter was settled. At the same time, Leo had asked me to go to Yellowstone. It was the trip we had been planning since we were freshmen. We booked our tickets and packed our bags. But when I got to the airport, he told me he had changed his flight and had gone a day early with Fiona. I just stood there, stunned, as the final boarding call echoed through the terminal. I sat on a bench, not moving. I’m not a dramatic person, but I had to fight to keep the tears from falling. I never went to Yellowstone. Leo kept texting me. *“Chloe, are you here yet?”* *“Chloe, where are you?”* *“I’ll come get you.”* *“Just text me back.”* I just stared at my phone. Finally, he called, his voice full of frustration. My hand slipped, and I answered. When he found out I wasn’t coming, he started yelling at me, calling me high-maintenance, petty, and difficult. “Chloe, do you have to ruin everything? So I changed my flight and came a day early. Is that such a big deal? You’re not coming? You’re going to make my whole life a regret?” “Fine. Be that way.” Later, Leo and Fiona’s social media was flooded with pictures from their trip. Yellowstone was as beautiful as I had imagined. I just watched in silence. A few of my friends asked if Leo and I had broken up. I didn’t answer. Right before school started, my mom asked me again. “Chloe, are you sure you want to go learn about pigs? And then move to Wyoming and be a farmer?” “Pigs are kind of cute,” I’d said. After a week of orientation, before classes had even started, I regretted it. I wiped the sticky mixture of hot chocolate and tears from my face. I had a classmate tell the orientation leader I was sick, then I went back to my dorm, took a shower, and changed my clothes. I called my mom. “Mom, I’ve thought about it. Animal husbandry is not for me. I want to study abroad. Is it too late?” My mom’s voice was full of concern. “Chloe, are you okay?” “I’m fine,” I said, my voice calm. “I just realized that while the drama of high school is great, it eventually has to end.” My mom knew about me and Leo, so she was worried. “It’s never too late to study abroad, honey. If you’re sure, I’ll start the process now. You’ll be leaving after October. You should take some time to hang out with your friends, say your goodbyes.” I smiled and agreed. After I hung up, the cramps were so bad I had to take two painkillers. Just then, my phone buzzed. A message from Fiona. I opened it. It was a voice recording. One of Leo’s friends was asking, “Leo, man, Chloe’s gorgeous. Are you sure you want to break up with her?” Then Leo’s cocky voice. “Nah. But we’re in college now. I gotta teach her a lesson, knock that attitude out of her. Let her sweat a little.” Someone else laughed. “Dude, go easy on her. You don’t want to actually lose her.” Leo scoffed. “No way. She’s obsessed with me. I can do whatever I want, she’s not going anywhere. You don’t believe me? I bet you, in less than three days, she’ll be crying and begging me to take her back.” Then Fiona’s voice. “Leo, if you’re going to do it, do it right. Make her get on her knees and beg before you take her back.” Leo laughed. “Deal!” The recording ended. Then a text from Fiona: *“Flu-uffy, you’d better not give in so easily. Don’t come crawling back and begging for forgiveness in three days.”* I blocked her number. 4 The next day, my mom confirmed that the study abroad application was in progress. I just had to handle the withdrawal process at my current university. “Okay,” I said with a smile. “Chloe, I have someone taking care of all the paperwork. You don’t have to do a thing,” my mom said. “But you can’t change your mind.” “I won’t, Mom. I promise.” “Good,” she said. The week passed peacefully. Without Leo and his psycho sidekick, college was actually pretty fun. Most people were normal. On Friday, I got a simple dinner from the dining hall and was about to go back to my dorm to binge-watch some shows. I had worked so hard in high school, I hadn’t had any time for TV or books. Now that I was free, I was determined to catch up. My good mood was ruined when Fiona showed up. The dining hall was half-empty, but of course, she had to sit right across from me. “Fluffy,” she said in that exaggerated, mocking tone of hers, “you’ve been holding out for a whole week? How many times have you cried to Leo behind my back? What, is he ignoring you? Did you know I was meeting him here for dinner, so you came to intercept him? Tsk, tsk. Just apologize to him already. I really thought you were going to hold out this time. But here you are, pretending it’s a coincidence. Oh, right, Leo said he wants you to get on your knees and beg. Why not do it now? There’s hardly anyone here.” I just looked at the contorted expression on her face and felt a wave of nausea. “Fiona,” I said calmly, “I’ve told you many times, don’t call me Fluffy. It makes me angry.” “I know you’re angry,” she said with a dramatic flair. “I love seeing you angry and helpless.” I was still calm. I picked up the free soup that came with my meal and threw it in her face. Before she could react, I grabbed my stainless steel tray and slammed it into her head. It all happened so fast. *Wham, wham, wham.* She shrieked and fell backward, her chair tipping over. The sound of her short skirt ripping was audible. A flash of white thigh, a thong, and a few stray pubic hairs were visible. I grabbed a chicken leg from my tray and, while she was screaming, shoved it in her mouth. I straddled her, made a fist, and started punching her in the head. It took a moment for everyone in the dining hall to react. Fights usually start with an argument. I had gone from zero to a hundred in a split second. A crowd of students and staff rushed over and pulled me off of her. “Fluffy, I’m going to kill you!” Fiona screamed, trying to cover herself as she lunged at me. I grabbed a plastic chair. “Fiona, you can hit on my boyfriend all you want. I don’t care. I can always find a new one. But who the hell do you think you are, giving me nicknames?” As I spoke, I threw the chair at her. Just then, Leo came running in. He grabbed me by the hair, and with his other hand, slapped me hard across the face. I tasted blood. “Fluffy,” he snarled, “apologize to Fiona.”

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My daughter, who had just gotten a full ride to Berkeley, suddenly looked at me and said, “Mom, I think you’re kind of selfish.” I frowned, completely lost. “I mean,” she continued, “I got into this amazing school, and all our friends and family are congratulating *you*, showering *you* with praise. But what about Dad? He gets nothing out of this.” The air went out of my lungs. My heart felt like it had dropped into a block of ice. I stared at her, my face hardening. “And what exactly is it you think your father should be getting?” 1 Asking that question felt like swallowing glass. My daughter, Emily, didn’t even look up from her video game. “It’s not that I think he should get something specific,” she said, tapping furiously at her iPad. “It just doesn’t seem fair.” Her tone was so casual, but the words were suffocating me. I took a deep breath, walked over, and snatched the iPad out of her hands. “Tell me,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “Tell me about your idea of ‘fair.’” That’s when she exploded. Emily shot up from the couch and tried to rip the tablet back from me. “What the hell? I’m in the middle of a raid! Are you crazy?” I threw the iPad to the floor. It shattered with a sickening crack. Emily’s face twisted with rage. She shoved me hard. “I was trying to be nice!” she screamed, her face inches from mine. “I was trying to spare your feelings, but I guess that’s over now.” “I’m your daughter. When I got that acceptance letter, even the mailman was telling you how lucky you are, what a great kid you raised. Relatives who haven’t called in years are suddenly blowing up your phone.” “It feels pretty good, doesn’t it? All that attention. But what about my dad? Just because you two are divorced, he’s not even allowed to come to my graduation party? He has to sneak around to give me a gift, like he’s some kind of criminal, just so he doesn’t upset you.” “He’s my *father*, Mom, not some stranger. This glory, this success? It’s mine. I earned it. And you’re getting all the benefits. Why shouldn’t he get to share in it, too?” “Why do I have to be *your* trophy? Why do you get to control everything? I’m just telling you the truth. You’re a selfish, possessive woman.” Her words hit me like a physical blow. My mind went blank. My teeth were chattering, and the hand I pointed at her was trembling uncontrollably. But Emily didn’t care. She was on a roll, venting years of stored-up resentment. “I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to talk about how Dad hurt you.” “That was ages ago! How long are you going to hold that grudge? It’s the 21st century, people get divorced all the time. Does every divorced couple have to be mortal enemies?” “He stopped loving *you*, Mom. He never stopped loving *me*. I’m his daughter, and I made him proud. I got into Berkeley…” The sharp, clean sound of a slap echoed in the quiet room. It took every last ounce of my strength. Emily clutched her cheek, her eyes wide with disbelief. Then came the shriek. “How could you? You have no right to hit me! You are going to regret this!” With one last hateful glare, she spun around, wrenched the door open, and slammed it behind her. My legs gave out. I stumbled backward and collapsed onto the floor. 2 I will never, ever forgive my ex-husband, Mark. When I was young, I fell for his sweet talk and empty promises. I married him against my parents’ wishes, convinced he was my soulmate. After we were married, I emptied my savings account to help him start his construction business. And it worked. His business took off. Soon after, I got pregnant. The moment he heard, he moved his mother in from out of state, supposedly to “help with the baby.” Behind my back, she sold her house and settled in for good. I tried to be okay with it. Then, I gave birth to a daughter. The sweet, doting mother-in-law vanished overnight. My gentle, loving husband didn’t even show up at the hospital. Before I was even fully recovered, my mother-in-law ground sleeping pills into my food. While I was passed out, she took my baby and drove her to some distant relatives three states away, planning to give her up for adoption. When I woke up and found Emily gone, I went into a panic. I called Mark, screaming and crying. His voice was cold, distant. “Sarah, calm down. My mom talked to a psychic. Said the baby’s bad luck for my career. Besides, she’s just a girl. Let them have her. You need to focus on getting healthy so you can give me a real son.” No matter how much I begged, they refused to tell me where my daughter was. They locked me in the house, telling me they’d let me out when I “calmed down.” I broke a window and climbed out. I called the police. Once things got loud and official, they finally brought my daughter back. I filed for divorce immediately. Mark refused. The look in his eyes when he spoke to me was pure evil. “Divorce? And who’s going to cook my meals? Who’s going to give me a son? Who’s going to be my mom’s maid?” After that, whenever he had a bad day at work, he’d come home and take it out on me. On both of us. He’d hit me, hit our little girl, screaming that we were curses, a pair of black cats that ruined his luck. Eventually, he brought another woman home. She gave him the son he always wanted. He needed to marry her to get the boy on his insurance, so he finally agreed to the divorce. The price was steep. If I wanted to take my daughter, I had to walk away with nothing. No money, no house, no car. Just the clothes on my back and my little girl. I signed the papers without a second thought. I can’t even think about those years without feeling sick. For a long time after, I’d wake up screaming, his snarling face haunting my dreams. Life was hard, raising Emily on my own. I worked double shifts at the diner and cleaned houses on weekends. But we had a roof over our heads, food on the table, and no one was hitting us. I poured everything I had into my daughter. I wanted her to have the best of everything I could afford. I was terrified she would end up like me, making one wrong choice that would ruin her entire life. So when she got that acceptance letter, that full ride, I was so happy I couldn’t sleep for a week. I knew she had done it. She was going to be different. She had an education, a brilliant mind. She was going to build a life of her own. And now, her words were like a thousand tiny knives, stabbing me over and over in the heart. She knew. She knew everything he’d done to us. 3 I shouldn’t have been surprised when Mark showed up at my door. “Sarah, I hear you’ve been putting your hands on my daughter,” he sneered, stepping inside like he owned the place. “Getting a little bold, aren’t you?” I had no patience for him. “Mark, you haven’t claimed Emily as your child for her entire life. Who do you think you’re fooling with this protective father act?” His eyes narrowed, and for a second, I saw the old rage. He took a step toward me, his hand raised, but his new wife, Jessica, grabbed his arm. “Honey, please,” she said in a sickly-sweet voice. Then she looked at me. “Sarah, we know how hard you’ve worked. We really do. But you can’t hit a child. They have feelings, you know. We parents can’t be tyrants.” She gave Mark a subtle look. He got the message. He pulled Emily behind him, wrapping an arm around her shoulders in a theatrical display of fatherly protection. “I know I made mistakes,” he said, his voice dripping with false sincerity. “But I’ve learned from them. And now look at Emily! She’s a star, our family’s lucky charm. Of course I’m going to be there for her. Who else would be?” I didn’t believe a word of it. But Emily did. “Mom, did you hear that?” she said, her voice pleading. “Dad knows he was wrong. I earned his approval, all by myself. Can’t you be happy for me? Why do you always have to be so aggressive?” My face was a grim mask. “Emily, you know what he did to us. You know why he abandoned you. It was because you weren’t a…” “Because I wasn’t a boy?” Emily cut me off, her eyes flashing. “Yeah, I know. And why wasn’t I? If I had been a boy, I wouldn’t have been laughed at my whole life for not having a dad. I wouldn’t have had to watch you struggle for every single penny.” Tears welled in her eyes. “So tell me, Mom,” she choked out, her voice thick with resentment. “Why couldn’t you have just given him a boy?” I couldn’t believe this was the child I had raised for eighteen years. My body started to shake with a fury I hadn’t felt in a long, long time. I raised my hand. This time, Emily was ready. She shoved me, hard. I stumbled backward and fell to the floor. “You were going to hit me again!” she shrieked. Mark rushed forward and kicked me, once, twice, right in the ribs. “You bitch!” he roared. “You dare touch my daughter in front of me? God knows how you’ve been treating her behind my back! You don’t deserve to be a mother!” The pain was sharp, sickeningly familiar. For a moment, I was back in that dark, hopeless place. I looked up at Emily. There was no pity in her eyes. Only a cold, hard hatred. Jessica stood next to her, one arm around Emily’s shoulders, looking down at me with a smirk of pure triumph. I closed my eyes. My heart felt like a dead, gray stone in my chest. “Go, Emily,” I whispered. “Just go. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a daughter anymore.” Emily didn’t answer. Mark did. “Damn right she’s going,” he grunted. “She’s my daughter. I’m taking her. Now go get her birth certificate and Social Security card.” 4 “Her birth certificate?” Faced with my confusion, Emily finally spoke. “To make things fair, I’m moving in with Dad. You took care of me through high school. He’s going to pay for my college.” A bitter, humorless laugh escaped my lips. She actually believed that. She thought he was going to see her through four years at Berkeley. “So you need the paperwork to legally move in with him? To become part of his family?” Emily didn’t say anything, which was all the confirmation I needed. Jessica piped up in her chirpy voice. “Well, Emily is Mark’s daughter, after all. It’s time for her to come home, to be part of the family officially. I was thinking, we shouldn’t just update the custody papers. We should change her name, too. Back to her father’s.” Mark slammed his hand on the coffee table. “Good idea. She’s a Vance, not a Hayes. Our Berkeley girl shouldn’t be carrying your name.” I looked at Emily. She stared at the floor, refusing to meet my eyes. So that was it. She was ashamed to be a Hayes. Ashamed to be my daughter. I laughed again, a hollow, empty sound. What was the point in fighting it? I pulled myself up, ignoring the throbbing in my side, and went to my room to get the documents. The car ride to the county clerk’s office was a special kind of torture. Emily clung to Jessica’s arm, calling her “Jess” this and “Jess” that. Jessica played her part perfectly, stroking Emily’s hair and draping an arm over her shoulder. “You know,” Jessica cooed, “I always regretted not having a daughter of my own. Now, with you, my heart is just so full.” Emily shot a pointed look at me in the rearview mirror. “Some people don’t feel that way. Some people just see me as a trophy to show off.” The words should have hurt, but by then, I was numb. I was strict with her, it was true. I pushed her hard in school. I knew that for a girl from a background like ours, knowledge was the only weapon, the only way out. I see now that some lessons can only be learned the hard way. We got to the government building. It was surprisingly empty. When I handed over the documents, I felt a final pang of doubt. I looked at Emily one last time. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this? Change your name, everything?” She was five years old when I carried her out of that house. She couldn’t remember all of it, but she knew enough. She’d tried to see Mark a few times when she was older. Each time he’d either insulted her or ignored her. I truly didn’t understand her anymore. Was a father’s approval—this fake, sudden approval—really that important? Or was she just that ashamed of me and our life? Emily hesitated, a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes. But Jessica just laughed. “Oh, Sarah, don’t be so dramatic. Of course she’s sure. Emily is a Vance. This is about her future. When she’s at school, or when she gets married, no one will look down on her. Being part of a happy, stable family is always better than… well, you know.” She gave me a pitying look. That did it. Emily’s face hardened. “Yes,” she said, her voice firm. “I want to change it.” Jessica clapped her hands together. “Wonderful! You know what we should do? We should change it back to the first name we had picked out for you. The one that’s in the family records.” Emily nodded obediently. “Whatever you think is best, Jess.” The process was quick. Mark filled out the form for Emily’s new name. She didn’t even bother to look at it. A few minutes later, a clerk’s voice boomed across the hall. “Emily Hayes?” Emily practically skipped to the counter. “That’s me.” The clerk, a tired-looking woman with kind eyes, looked from the form to Emily, then back to the form. Her expression was strange, a mix of pity and confusion. “Are you sure, honey?” she asked softly. “Are you absolutely sure you want to change your name from Emily Hayes to Charity Vance?”

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The call from the travel agency came out of nowhere. They said my parents were raising hell after their round-the-world cruise, demanding a refund and even assaulting an employee. They wanted to know what I was going to do about it. But that was impossible. At that very moment, my mother was helping my father hobble out of his hospital room, asking me if the discharge papers were ready. They hadn’t gone on any trip. My dad had broken his leg right before they were supposed to leave. I hung up and turned to my husband, the one I’d sent to the agency to postpone the trip. “Craig,” I demanded, “what is going on?” He looked at me, his eyes wide with a practiced shock. “Honey, I canceled their trip, remember? Your dad’s hospital bills were piling up. Where were we going to get the money for a world cruise after all that?” A cold, bitter laugh escaped my lips. I didn’t even bother arguing with him. I just dialed my brother-in-law, Liam—the owner of the travel agency. “Liam, it’s Claire,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Could you do me a favor? I need you to check whose parents enjoyed the luxury cruise you booked for Mom and Dad. I think I have a homewrecker to find.” My parents had worked themselves to the bone their entire lives and never had a real vacation. When Liam, who runs Horizon Travel, found out, he gifted them a top-of-the-line, all-expenses-paid world cruise package. When my husband, Craig, first heard about it, he’d been less than thrilled. “A trip like that costs a fortune,” he’d complained. “It’s not that I can’t afford it, it’s just… unnecessary.” His words made my parents hesitate, but I finally convinced them. Then the accident happened, and the trip was off. But now, Horizon Travel was telling me my parents had just returned from their 120-day journey. And the agent on the phone was adamant; they had the right number. Something was deeply wrong. I had to go down to the agency myself. It was a weekday, so I expected it to be quiet, but the lobby was buzzing with a loud argument. I was too focused on getting answers to pay much attention. I walked straight to the front desk. “Hi,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “You called me a few hours ago? About my parents demanding a refund and injuring an employee?” The receptionist hesitated. “Oh, yes. There is an elderly couple causing a scene. But their daughter, a Miss Vance, is already here. She just went into the manager’s office.” “Miss Vance?” I stared at her, bewildered. “Are you sure?” She nodded toward the two people still yelling near the lounge area. “That’s what they said. They confirmed she’s their daughter. There’s no mistake.” My brow furrowed, anger starting to simmer beneath my skin. “And the personal information they provided matched the original booking exactly?” The receptionist confirmed it did. She even pulled up a short promotional video from the day of departure. “Miss Vance’s husband even dropped the couple off himself and confirmed the itinerary with us.” The moment the video played, my blood ran cold. The man on the screen, smiling and waving as the elderly couple boarded, was my husband, Craig. The rage that flooded my veins was hot and sharp. He had another wife. And he’d let her parents steal the trip of a lifetime that Liam had arranged for mine. I was going to find out exactly how Craig planned to explain this. I pulled out my phone, but before I could dial, I saw a familiar figure approaching the arguing couple. She was dressed to the nines in designer clothes, a luxury handbag swinging from her arm. “Mom, Dad, it’s all sorted,” she said sweetly. “I spoke with the manager. You’ll get your refund.” It was Vanessa. Craig’s so-called “best friend.” I marched right up to her. “Vanessa,” I said, my voice dripping with ice, “how did you manage to get your parents on a cruise under my parents’ names?” She didn’t even flinch. “Claire? What are you doing here? Thinking of sending your parents on a trip, too?” A cruel smile stretched across my face. “Cut the crap. I want to know why my parents’ cruise was hijacked by yours.” I snatched the printed photos from the receptionist’s desk—stills from the departure video—and threw them at her. “And since when are they my husband’s in-laws?” My voice was loud enough to draw the attention of everyone in the lobby. Vanessa’s smile vanished, replaced by a look of haughty indignation. “Claire, how dare you make such baseless accusations? My husband booked this trip for my parents. It was a surprise.” She scoffed. “The most expensive package they offer. A price tag you could never afford.” She leaned in, her voice a theatrical whisper. “I told you how much my husband loves me. No matter how desperately you chase after him, you can’t make him yours.” The onlookers started murmuring, their eyes burning into me with contempt. “So she’s a psycho mistress trying to break up a marriage.” “Look at what she’s wearing versus the wife. As if she could afford a two-hundred-thousand-dollar cruise. So shameless.” I was just in sweats and a t-shirt, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t afford it. Vanessa, on the other hand, looked the part, but I knew for a fact she couldn’t even afford the bag she was carrying. Ignoring the whispers, I fixed my glare on her. “I think you’re the one who’s desperate to turn someone else’s husband into her own.” I turned back to the receptionist. “Did you actually verify their identities before they departed?” The woman was clearly annoyed. “Of course we did. Our manager handled it personally.” She pointed to a woman just coming down the stairs. “That’s her right there.” I looked over and almost laughed. The manager was one of Vanessa’s closest friends. No wonder she was so brazen. My tone sharpened. “As I recall, a trip like this has multiple identity checkpoints. Your manager may have waved them through at the start, but what about the tour guides? The cruise staff? Did no one notice the names didn’t match the passports?” The receptionist shifted uncomfortably. “Well, Mr. Cole did call ahead to inform us that his in-laws had recently changed their names and their official documents hadn’t been updated yet…” “So you did know the information didn’t match,” I cut her off, my voice rising with fury. “And you chose to look the other way. Is that it? Does anyone at this company do their job responsibly?” Vanessa shoved me hard. “Give it up, Claire. You’re just pissed you can’t afford a trip like this for your own parents, so you’re making a scene.” Her eyes gleamed with triumph as she pulled out her phone. “You know what? I’ll call my husband right now and let him put you in your place.” The contact name read ‘My Husband.’ It was Craig’s number. She put him on speakerphone, and the second he answered, she started wailing. “Craig, baby! This crazy woman, Claire, is attacking me! She’s here at the travel agency saying our parents stole the trip from hers, and she’s telling everyone that you’re her husband, not mine!” Craig’s voice erupted from the phone, laced with fury. “What? How am I not your husband? Don’t worry, babe! I’m on my way. I’ll be right there to back you up!” I couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t defending me—the wife who had stood by him, scrimped and saved with him for years while he built his business from nothing. He was defending her—the woman who had abandoned him the second she thought he was going bankrupt. Vanessa lifted her chin, a smirk playing on her lips. “Did you hear that, Claire? My husband is coming. You should probably leave now before you humiliate yourself even more.” Her arrogance was infuriating. Craig arrived in record time, storming into the lobby like a hurricane. He didn’t hesitate. He marched straight to me and slapped me across the face, the sound echoing in the silent room. Then he grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the wall. “Claire! How dare you bully Vanessa!” he roared. “Now get the hell out of here!” My head exploded with pain, and black spots danced in my vision. Vanessa practically leaped into Craig’s arms, planting a loud, wet kiss on his mouth. “You’re the best, honey! She obviously came here just to harass me and my parents. She’s completely unhinged.” Craig wrapped his arms around her, kissing her back deeply. The sight sent a wave of pure, unadulterated rage through me. “Craig Cole! I am going to destroy you!” He finally pulled away from Vanessa, his eyes, when they met mine, filled with nothing but irritation. “Don’t push me, Claire. I mean it.” He gestured wildly between us. “I’ve told you a hundred times, I’m married! Stop stalking me! I can’t believe you’d stoop so low as to harass my wife and her parents!” Leaning against the wall for support, the world spinning around me, I stared at the man in front of me as if he were a total stranger. This was the man who had promised to love me forever. Now he was kissing another woman in front of me and attacking me for her. The memories came flooding back, little puzzle pieces clicking into place. He had been cheating on me all along. Their “friendship” was a lie. When Vanessa left him, he’d been a wreck for months. And ever since she came back, he was suddenly working late every night, even forgetting our anniversary. I locked my eyes on his. “Craig,” I said, my voice low and trembling with fury, “I’m giving you one last chance. Tell me. Who. Is. Your. Wife.” A flicker of guilt crossed his face, but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by a sneer. “Stop trying to cause trouble, Claire! You’re just trying to make my wife and her family doubt me! You’re nothing but a pathetic gold digger who won’t leave me alone now that I have money.” He wrapped a protective arm around Vanessa. “But I love my wife. And I will never, ever divorce her to marry a psycho like you.” The crowd’s whispers grew louder, their judgment like daggers. “What a leech. The poor guy.” “She’s pure evil, trying to drive a wedge between a happy family right in front of them.” For Vanessa, he would twist reality, turn me into a villain, and leave me to be devoured by strangers. But I wasn’t helpless. My voice was cold and steady. “Craig and I are the ones who are married.” I reached into my bag for our marriage certificate, but Vanessa was faster. She triumphantly produced a certificate of her own. “Does this not count as being a real wife?” she sneered. I froze, staring at the document, at their smiling faces. The world tilted on its axis. Vanessa snatched my certificate out of my hand before I could even process it. “Wow, Claire,” she said, her voice dripping with mock pity. “You’re so desperate to steal my husband, you even got a fake certificate made!” She opened it, her eyes scanning the paper with disdain. “But the official seal isn’t even right. It’s so crude.” Looking closer, I saw she was right. The embossed seal was a cheap, blurry imitation. My hand started to shake. I remembered that day at the courthouse. Just as the clerk was about to hand us the certificate, Craig had insisted I run back to the car to get something he’d forgotten. By the time I returned, he was waiting outside with the certificate, telling me it was all done. Vanessa’s laughter was a cruel, sharp sound. She threw the fake document in my face. “There. Now do you see who his wife is? I suggest you get a little self-respect and get the hell out of our lives.” She couldn’t wait to have him all to herself. Craig squeezed Vanessa’s hand. The matching wedding bands on their fingers seared into my brain. He looked at me, then turned to the manager, his voice filled with disgust. “You need to get her out of here before she completely ruins your company’s reputation with her lies.” The crowd chimed in. “Yeah, get the crazy woman out! For a second there, I almost believed the travel agency was at fault.” The manager, being Vanessa’s friend, was more than happy to oblige. “Security!” she yelled. “Get this psycho out of my lobby!” Two guards approached. Hearing the word “psycho,” they came prepared, one brandishing a stun baton. Before I could even react, a jolt of electricity shot through me, and my body convulsed. They pinned me to the floor, and once they were sure I was subdued, they started dragging me out. As they hauled me past her, Vanessa quietly circled behind me and kicked me squarely in the lower back. I stumbled forward, crashing into a luggage rack stacked high for a tour group. A cascade of suitcases rained down on me. “Oops, sorry, Claire,” Vanessa chirped, a malicious glint in her eyes. “I saw you reaching for something. I was just worried you were going for a weapon.” Craig pulled her back. “Why are you apologizing? Don’t let a lunatic like her hurt you.” I couldn’t even speak. The weight of the luggage crushed me, and a sharp, searing pain shot through my arm. Blood trickled down my forehead. I was too weak to even push the bags off me. The crowd just stood there, watching. No one moved to help. Craig just frowned, a look of pure disgust on his face. He looked almost… disappointed that the suitcases hadn’t finished the job. In that moment, any lingering love I had for him died.

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The last time I saw him, I left him standing alone on a street corner on Valentine’s Day and walked away without a backward glance. Years later, we met again. He was a titan of industry now, wielding immense power. He appeared at an exclusive event, bidding on a necklace for his girlfriend. Someone teased him, “Wedding bells in the near future, Mr. Prescott?” Cain Prescott lifted his gaze, a lazy disinterest in his eyes. “Just a bit of fun. It’s not serious.” And then he saw me. The smile on his lips froze. Before the watchful eyes of everyone present, he rose from his seat and walked toward me, his stride calm and measured. My mind went blank. All I could manage to think of was a simple greeting: “It’s been a long time—” The next second, a hand of steel clamped around my throat, pinning me to the wall. “You dare come back?” He smiled, a chillingly pleasant expression on his face. “Didn’t I tell you? If you ever showed your face again, I would destroy you.” 1 The air conditioning in the auction hall was glacial. I’d been plied with chilled champagne at dinner, and now a sharp cramp twisted in my stomach. Not far off, a cluster of socialites were gossiping. “Are those wedding bells I hear? Mr. Prescott buying another necklace to win the lady’s favor?” Cain lifted his eyes, a lazy boredom in them. “Just a bit of fun. It’s not serious.” Even seated among the city’s elite, he was a star in its own orbit, incandescent. Every gesture radiated an aristocratic power that was both innate and intimidating. The entire upper echelon of New York society revered him. A knot of anxiety tightened in my chest. Why him? Why here? I had checked… I had specifically checked the guest list. I was standing behind the auction stage, slightly hunched over from the pain in my stomach. The movement caused the fabric of my form-fitting gown, once perfectly smooth, to wrinkle. This was my first auction since returning to the States, the first time I was presenting my own work. Someone’s voice drifted over, laced with curiosity. “Could it be because of what happened back then…” Cain let out a short, derisive laugh. “Her? She wishes.” The house lights began to dim, shrouding Cain’s sharp features in shadow, his expression unreadable. I was plunged into an icy memory of the last phone call he ever made to me. People who play with hearts, he’d said, his voice cold as the grave, go to hell. He told me he would never forgive me. Not in this lifetime. “Miss Miller, would you like to come up and introduce your piece?” the auctioneer’s voice boomed, suddenly calling me out. A single spotlight pierced the darkness from above, trapping me in its brilliant glare, making me the center of everyone’s attention. The audience was a sea of shadows. I couldn’t see Cain’s face, couldn’t guess at his reaction. Silence descended upon the hall as everyone waited for me to speak. I clutched the microphone, my knuckles white, and deliberately fixed my gaze on a point far beyond where I knew he was sitting. “Good evening, everyone. I am Elara Miller, the jewelry designer of tonight’s featured piece. It’s an honor to present my work to you all…” The entire time, I was on autopilot, my words a meaningless blur. A desperate prayer echoed in my mind: Maybe he’s already left. Maybe he didn’t recognize me. Clinging to that sliver of hope, I slipped off the stage, aiming for the dimly lit fire escape on the side of the hall. Just as I reached for the door, a small, menacing point of red light flared in the darkness ahead—the burning tip of a cigarette. A tall silhouette detached itself from the shadows and moved toward me. A pair of long, impeccably tailored legs entered my vision. Before I could process it, a hand was around my neck. My back slammed against the cold, hard wall. A familiar, aggressive scent of cold mint and tobacco filled my senses. Cain’s voice, a low and dangerous murmur, reached my ears. “You dare come back?” he repeated. “Didn’t I tell you? If I ever saw you again, I would destroy you.” I tilted my head back, forced to look into those once-familiar eyes. The deep affection that used to reside there was gone, replaced by a chilling emptiness. I leaned against the wall, meeting his gaze in a silent standoff. He suddenly broke the silence with a laugh. “Cat got your tongue?” “I have nothing to say.” The hand on my jaw tightened, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. Cain’s voice dropped to a whisper, each word a shard of ice. “Elara. Say that again. I dare you.” The sound of high heels echoed from the stairwell. A soft, feminine voice called out hesitantly, “Cain? Are you in there? The auction is over.” Cain squeezed his eyes shut, visibly suppressing the fury simmering within them. The pressure on my neck abruptly vanished. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and meticulously wiped his hand, as if he’d just touched something filthy. “Stay out there,” he called back, his voice steady. “It’s cold in here.” The footsteps stopped immediately. “Okay,” the woman replied. “Don’t be long.” I slumped against the wall, gasping for air, loosening the collar of my gown. A sheen of cold sweat had broken out on my forehead. Our ragged breaths mingled in the tight space. Cain gave me one last, lingering look before pushing the door open and disappearing into the hall. 2 The necklace sold for fifty million dollars. To Cain Prescott. It would be some time before the funds cleared, however, which meant I was stuck in the city for the foreseeable future. Two weeks later, I met its new owner at a gallery opening hosted by a major jeweler. “Elara?” She recognized me first, greeting me with an effusive warmth that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s been ages!” Her name was Helena Vance. We’d been in the same high school. Daughter of a wealthy family, she’d sailed through life on a sea of privilege. The year I dropped out, we’d had… a falling out. I blinked, feigning a look of pleasant surprise. “Helena! I can’t believe it. What are you doing here?” The multi-million-dollar sapphire necklace—my creation—rested against the elegant column of her throat, its brilliance almost blinding. Her eyes swept over me, a subtle, sharp appraisal. “Did you finally make it big?” she asked, the implication clear: only the rich and powerful received invitations to events like this. I forced a tight smile. “I’m the designer of your necklace. I managed to pull some strings for an invitation.” A person’s expression is a marvel of subtlety. A smile, for instance, can so easily mask a sneer. She waved a hand towards someone behind me, her voice exaggeratedly bright. “Cain, look who I ran into!” I didn’t turn around, but I could feel a hostile gaze boring into my back, sharp and cold. “You shouldn’t talk to strangers,” Cain’s voice drifted over, laced with condescension. “You never know what kind of trouble they’ll drag you into.” I kept my head down, pretending I hadn’t heard. Helena, ever the instigator, fanned the flames. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. You have some experience with that, don’t you? Swindled out of your money, your heart, your… everything. So tragic. Right, Elara?” The gallery owner, a portly man with beady eyes, perked up at the scent of gossip. “Someone had the nerve to scam Mr. Prescott? Who would be that foolish?” Helena shot me a sideways glance, a picture of polished grace. “Oh, just some nobody from the gutter. It’s too embarrassing to even mention her name.” The owner nodded sagely. “Quite right. Girls from that background are fine for a bit of fun, but for marriage? Utterly unsuitable.” Through it all, Cain stood back, a silent, cold observer to the entire spectacle. “Ah, Ms. Miller, you look a little pale,” the gallery owner finally noticed me. “Would you like some water?” I managed a brittle smile. “No, thank you. I have to be going. Please, excuse me.” The sun was a fiery smear on the horizon as I stepped out of the gallery. I leaned against the cool stone of the building, trying to catch my breath. My reflection in the glass door was pale, almost ghostly. An email from my best friend popped up on my phone: Did you sort it out? Layoff notices are coming next month, absolute latest. You need to get a client to commit to the Paris gala. I took a deep breath. Yeah, I know. I… I ran into someone I shouldn’t have. She paused on her end. Don’t tell me. The person who bought your necklace… it was Cain Prescott? That was precisely why I couldn’t ask. A heavy silence stretched between us. My friend tried to sound comforting. “Just focus on getting the payment for now. We can figure out the rest later…” My history with Cain was… complicated. I shook my head, trying to clear it, and prepared to hail a cab back to my hotel. Suddenly, the roar of an engine shattered the evening quiet. I turned. A black Ferrari had just ignited, its headlights pointed directly at me. The last rays of sunset slicked its chassis with a brilliant, liquid gold. The engine’s roar escalated, a symphony of aggression. And then, the car shot forward, hurtling directly towards me. He was behind the wheel, his dark eyes locked on mine. If you ever showed your face again, I would destroy you. For a few heart-stopping seconds, my mind was a white void of terror. I watched, paralyzed, as the car devoured the distance between us. Ten feet. Five. Two. Screeeech! The shriek of tires on pavement echoed through the street, sending a flock of birds scattering from the nearby trees. The bumper kissed my shins, a perfect, terrifying calculation. Reality crashed back in, and a wave of pure, unadulterated fear washed over me. My legs gave out, and I crumpled to the ground. The driver’s side window slid down with a soft whir, revealing a pair of cold, merciless eyes. “Get in.” 3 The last sliver of sunset vanished below the horizon, and night fell like a net, closing in from all sides. The car was silent. I huddled in the passenger seat, not daring to speak. “So, you won’t even talk to me now?” Cain’s voice was sharp with ridicule. “I’ll be gone as soon as the payment clears,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. He let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “You haven’t changed at all, have you?” A piece of paper fluttered onto my lap. It was a blank check. Seeing my confusion, Cain’s voice turned to ice. “There’s your money. Are you going to leave, or are you expecting me to ride that goddamn roller coaster again, just so you can make a fool of me twice?” Once, long ago, I’d told him I wouldn’t break up with him if he rode the roller coaster. He was terrified of heights, but he did it, his jaw set in grim determination. I walked away anyway. In the years since, Cain had aggressively expanded his business empire overseas, his methods ruthless. It was as if he was trying to scour the earth just to find me. Then, suddenly, he stopped. A woman appeared by his side. He guarded her fiercely, scrubbing every photo, every mention of her from the press. To this day, no one knew who she was. Until I saw Helena. Then it all made sense. I moistened my lips. “Mr. Prescott, you misunderstand. I only want the payment I’m owed from the auction—” “Is there a difference?” He tapped a finger against the steering wheel. “Sign a waiver forfeiting the auction payment, and I’ll give you double. You can be on a plane by tomorrow morning.” His meaning was crystal clear. He was afraid Helena would get the wrong idea, and he wanted me gone. Immediately. Double the price was more than enough for me to report back to my company. “Thank you.” I booked a flight back to Europe for the next day and returned to my hotel to pack. The television was on, broadcasting a segment about Cain’s latest social appearance. For the first time, Helena’s identity was revealed to the public. The media called them a “match made in heaven.” My friend’s voice crackled over the phone. “That was supposed to be your wedding necklace, the one you designed for yourself. Are you really just going to let it go?” “Cain seems to really care for her. It’s just a necklace. It doesn’t matter who wears it.” “Think of it as…” I paused, looking up from my suitcase and letting out a slow breath. “My wedding gift to them. I have other designs. I can just find other clients…” She could hear the strain in my voice and didn’t know what to say. When I first arrived in Europe, I was broke and alone. The design for that necklace had been my key, the thing that convinced my mentor to take me under his wing. After all these years, for it to return to its origin this way… it was supposed to be my way of making peace with the past. “Elara, listen,” she said gently. “For people like them, in that world… sometimes, not ending up together is a blessing. You lived it. You know how much it can break you.” “Haha, don’t worry about me.” I went back to folding my clothes, trying to sound cheerful. “When you’re young, you think love is all you need. But honestly, a little realism makes life a lot easier…” Knock, knock. Someone was at the door. “Who’s that so late?” my friend asked. I stood up. “Just room service.” I opened the door. It was Cain. He smelled faintly of alcohol, one hand braced against the doorframe, his body casting a long shadow into my room. “What are you doing here?” I tried to shut the door, but he blocked it with his arm. “I can’t be here?” His brow was furrowed, a drunken haze clouding his sharp features. His tie was loosened, the knot askew. He looked up at me, his handsome face a captivating play of light and shadow. “No, it’s just… our business is concluded.” “Concluded?” The word was slurred, tinged with a lazy, drunken drawl. He looked down and scoffed. “To hell with ‘concluded’.” I gripped the doorknob tightly. “You’re drunk. Let me call your assistant—” His hand shot out and grabbed my wrist, his grip surprisingly strong. “If I ride the roller coaster again… will you stay?” The question came out of nowhere, stunning me into silence. The heat from his palm seemed to scorch my skin. I tried to pull my hand back, but he held fast. I sighed. “We’re not kids anymore, Cain.” I didn’t realize my own voice was trembling. He looked up, his dark eyes boring into mine, and roughly tore off his tie, revealing the pale skin and sharp lines of his collarbones. “Then let’s do this like adults.” He took my hand and pressed it against his chest. His voice was raw. “Sleep with me.” “Elara. You sleep with me, and everything I have is yours.” The powerful, steady beat of his heart thrummed against my palm. I flinched as if burned, trying to wrench my hand away. “Cain, someone will see…” “Let them,” he bit out. “It’s my reputation on the line, not yours.” Suddenly, the sound of footsteps echoed from around the corner of the hallway. In my moment of distraction, he saw his chance and pushed his way inside. Click. The door shut behind him. The entryway was dark. Cain pinned me against the wall, and the world shrank to the sound of our breathing, a frantic, intimate rhythm in the blackness. Neither of us spoke. This reunion, this contact after so many years, was both strange and achingly familiar. He leaned in closer. Just as his lips were about to touch mine, I turned my head away. His mouth brushed against my cheek, and my heart hammered against my ribs. Cain froze. He rested his forehead against the wall beside my head and took a deep, shuddering breath. His voice was hoarse. “Get away from me. I won’t touch you.” I looked up at him, my heart in my throat, and saw that the drunken haze in his eyes had cleared. A cool breeze slipped through a crack in the window, dissipating the fragile, charged atmosphere between us. The arm that had trapped me fell away. I was free. I stumbled back, escaping his orbit. Cain remained where he was, his eyes closed. The alcohol must have worn off, his usual cold composure restored. I turned away, busying myself with stuffing my scattered clothes back into my suitcase, trying to hide my panic. Then, he spoke, his voice quiet. “The check is void.” My hands stilled. I looked up, confused. He stood in the shadows. “There’s a problem at the company. I can’t issue that check right now. I’m sorry.” His face was a blank mask, impossible to read. I couldn’t tell if he was lying. “Then…” “Cancel your flight. I’ll reimburse you for the ticket.” I numbly placed the clothes back on the bed and stood. “Okay.” The conversation was over, but I kept staring at him. He raised an eyebrow. “You want me to leave?” “Yes.” “I can’t. Not yet.” He spoke slowly, deliberately. “I’m being followed. There are paparazzi outside my door just waiting for a scandal. Elara, I assume you don’t want to be on the morning news with me?” But I was so tired. I sat on the edge of the bed, waiting for him to leave. The minutes ticked by. Cain remained by the door, unmoving. Gradually, a heavy wave of exhaustion washed over me. My head lolled to one side, and I fell back against the soft pillows. As the last wisp of consciousness slipped away, I thought I heard him whisper, “Good night.” 4 My sleep has always been light. The first ray of dawn touched my eyelids. I stretched my arm and brushed against someone. The scent was familiar. Even after ten years, I would know it anywhere. He seemed to stir at my movement. An arm snaked around my waist, pulling me closer. My eyes flew open, and I found myself staring directly into his. Cain was still half-asleep, his voice a groggy murmur. “Mornin’…” It took a moment for my brain to catch up. Then, I scrambled up, grabbed a pillow, and started hitting him with it. “Pervert!” After a few solid thwacks, Cain’s expression soured. “Getting bold, are we, Elara?” “You’re shameless!” I clutched the collar of my pajamas, which were thankfully still intact, my face pale with shock. He squinted against the morning light streaming into the room, then swung his legs over the side of the bed and walked around to me. His dress shirt was a mess of wrinkles, as if it had been through a spin cycle. The usual sharp edges of his demeanor were gone, replaced by a deep frown of annoyance. My panic escalated. “Don’t… don’t come any closer.” He gently lifted a lock of my hair and followed it down to the end, where a single shirt button was hopelessly tangled. “As if I’d want to touch you,” he said without looking up. “Is your sleepwalking still not cured?” I paused, only then noticing that a button was missing from the collar of his shirt. As he worked to free my hair, a cold smirk played on his lips. “You hooked my button and then ran off in your sleep. What was I supposed to do?” I was speechless for a second. “You could have just cut my hair.” “And have you never speak to me again? No thanks.” He was surprisingly patient. He could have just yanked it free, but instead, he stood there, meticulously untangling the knot like it was a complex puzzle. It reminded me of a time, long ago, when we were together. He’d been in one of his moods and snipped off a lock of my hair. I’d started crying and walked away, leaving him behind. He’d followed me, pleading, “Elara, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I’ll never do it again. Here, you can cut mine, just please don’t cry.” Watching his reflection in the mirror as he worked, I asked, “I’m not strong enough to pull a button off. How did it happen?” He finally freed the button and leaned over me, bracing his hands on either side of my head. He studied my face for a long moment before answering, his expression completely serious. “I ripped it off myself. Figured if I fell asleep, I didn’t want you waking up in pain.” My heart skipped a beat. I just stared at him, frozen. With that, he straightened up and disappeared into the bathroom. I sniffed my hair. It smelled of him. I wondered what cologne he wore. My phone rang. It was my friend. “Elara, are you on the plane yet?” I’d forgotten to tell her my plans had changed. “I’m not coming back just yet. I still haven’t gotten the payment.” “Oh, well that’s actually great news. Headquarters just called. They want you to personally invite Cain Prescott to the gala. It’s… not a request.” “He’ll never agree.” “You have to at least try.” “Try what?” Cain’s voice cut in unexpectedly. My friend froze. “Holy sh— You’re not… This is intense…” I hastily hung up the phone, turning to find Cain leaning against the bathroom doorway in a robe, his eyes narrowed in thought as he watched me. “Why are you out here?” He averted his gaze, his tone cool. “What am I being invited to?” “My brand’s jewelry gala… It’s next month. In Paris.” Perhaps he saw the flicker of hope in my eyes, because a small smirk touched his lips. “Next month is a long way away. We’ll see.” I knew it. There was no way he would agree. A knock sounded at the door. Cain answered it before I could move. A moment later, he returned with a paper bag and tossed it to me. “Change.” “What is this?” “Clothes.” He was at the mirror, knotting his tie. “You want me at your gala, you have to accompany me to an event first.” 5 It was a gown of ink-wash silk. Custom-made, it lacked the aggressive glamour of a Western ball gown, instead lending its wearer an air of gentle elegance. Cain leaned against the wall, slowly fastening his watch, his dark eyes fixed on my back. In the mirror, the two of us were a study in contrasts, the height difference just right. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, the epitome of understated luxury. Standing next to me in the silk gown, we had a strange, East-meets-West beauty. I pressed my lips together. “Is there a jacket?” The gown clung to every curve, and his gaze was an undisguised, searing heat on my skin. “No,” he said, his eyes flicking briefly to the small of my back. “It looks beautiful.” I never would have guessed that Cain was taking me to a family dinner. The familiar villa, even after ten years, stood unchanged. I had been to this place before, more than once, without Cain’s knowledge. All of my worst memories were born here. Cain opened the car door for me. “You’ve never met my stepmother or my half-brother, have you?” My palms were slick with sweat. “Why did you bring me here?” A corner of his mouth lifted. He leaned down and offered me his arm. “Nervous about meeting the family?” He stood silhouetted against the night sky, a rare hint of gentleness in his eyes. “…” He mistook my terror for simple nerves, taking my hand in his. “It’s just a dinner.” Lights glowed from within the villa. We walked through a small, fragrant garden to the front door. The muffled sound of conversation drifted through the wood; it sounded crowded. I could just make out a woman’s voice, dripping with false modesty. “Cain’s marriage? How could I have a say? I’m not his real mother, after all…” Hearing that voice again after so many years sent an involuntary shiver down my spine. “Brother, you’re back.” A shaft of light spilled out as the door opened, illuminating the rug at our feet. The figure was backlit, his face in shadow, but I instinctively shrank behind Cain. It was his half-brother, Ross. Cain gave a curt nod and led me inside. As we passed Ross, I happened to glance up and our eyes met. Recognition dawned on his face instantly. After a flicker of surprise, a familiar, predatory amusement filled his dark eyes—the same look he’d given me when he used to call me worthless trash. “Still a fan of leftovers, brother?” he murmured as he fell into step behind me, his arm brushing unnervingly against my back. I gripped Cain’s arm tighter, trying to put more space between myself and Ross. Cain sensed my discomfort and shot Ross a glacial look. “Get lost.” Ross smirked at me one last time before sauntering away. As we moved through the house, people constantly stopped to greet Cain. “Mr. Prescott, good to see you.” He would just nod curtly in response. Eyes followed us as we entered the main living room. At the center of a glittering crowd stood a glamorous middle-aged woman. Cain’s stepmother, Sandra. And standing right beside her was Helena Vance. The moment she saw me, she subtly nudged Sandra’s arm. The conversation died. Heads turned. A variety of expressions, from curiosity to disapproval, settled on their faces. Sandra arched an eyebrow, her expression mirroring Ross’s from moments before. She knew exactly who I was. “And who might this be?” One of her friends chimed in, “Cain, Helena is right here. What is the meaning of bringing another woman?” Cain’s hand rested on the small of my back. “Plans changed,” he stated flatly. “You’re not a child anymore, Cain. Must you always be so impulsive?” Sandra’s displeasure was obvious. “Do you even know who you’re associating with?” The question was loaded. I had no doubt that Sandra had already shared my sordid history with everyone here. The only one still in the dark was Cain. He leaned in, his voice a low murmur in my ear. “Go get yourself something to eat from the buffet over there. I’ll join you in a bit.” Sandra’s stare was making my skin crawl. I nodded and quickly walked away. The dessert table was near the kitchen, in a quiet corner of the room. As I rounded the corner, a hand shot out, grabbed my arm, and dragged me into the kitchen. The door swung shut. The suffocating scent of cheap cologne filled my nostrils. “Back to screwing my brother again?” Ross’s vicious laugh echoed in the small space. “Elara, have you forgotten what you are? What we did to you?” A chill ran down my spine, and my blood turned to ice. “Let go of me!” He slammed me against the wall, his fingers digging into my chin. “Look at you… even prettier than before…” His face was too close, his breath a foul mix of smoke and liquor. “You’re in luck. All your old friends are here tonight. How about a repeat performance?” I turned my head away, my voice hard. “Ross, what you’re doing is illegal.” He yanked my hair, slamming my head back against the wall, just as he had all those years ago when he’d held my head over a toilet. “A piece of trash like you wants to talk to me about the law?” “Guess we didn’t teach you your lesson properly the first time, did we?” “Helena still has the pictures, you know. Hmm? Should we show everyone?” The agonizing memories came rushing back. I struggled violently, a hysterical scream building in my throat. “Ross, go to hell!” His eyes lit up with sick excitement. “Alright, Elara. Let’s make a bet. Let’s see who destroys who first.” “You were just a cheap little pawn my mother hired to seduce Cain. Do you really think he’ll still protect you when he finds out the truth?” With that, he started unbuckling his pants. Despair washed over me as I fought against him, tears streaming from my eyes. The past was happening all over again. The day before summer vacation, I had gone to Sandra to quit. She held a thin cigarette between her fingers, her chin held high. “You took the money. You think you can just walk away?” I placed the bank card on her desk. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” She laughed. “And you think you and Cain can have a happy ending? In your dreams.” That same day, Helena and her friends cornered me in the girls’ bathroom. They tore the clothes from my body with practiced ease. “So you’re the little whore Sandra hired,” Helena said, arms crossed, her tone dripping with scorn. “I’m sure you won’t mind if I take a few pictures.” My struggles were futile against their numbers. I was eighteen. On a hot summer day filled with the drone of cicadas, my dignity was shattered in a cramped, filthy bathroom stall. They doused me with dirty water, washing away my pride, their taunts and jeers poisoning my soul. And then Ross’s final act of defilement shattered what little dignity I had left. “I’m calling the police,” I’d choked out, my body bruised and broken. “You poor, stupid girl. Don’t you know anything?” Ross grabbed a fistful of my hair, a grin on his face. “All I did was mess up your pretty face. That’s not rape. And unless you manage to kill me, I will make your life a living hell.” In the end, the incident was buried. There was no evidence. The party raged on just outside the kitchen door. Ross was drunk, and he had already ripped my gown up to my waist. He had my arms pinned behind my back, and my screams for help were swallowed by the noise. “Get off… get off me!” I sobbed, and with a surge of adrenaline, I sank my teeth into his shoulder. He howled in pain, his grip slackening for a split second. I bolted for the door. He was fast. He caught me by the hair and dragged me back. A blinding pain shot through my scalp. A voice screamed inside my head. Do you hate him? What did I do to deserve this? To be hurt again and again? Why are some people born evil? My hand fumbled blindly across the countertop and closed around the cool, heavy glass of a wine bottle. “You bitch! What does it matter if I take you again?” Through a blur of tears, I spun around, raised the bottle high above my head, and brought it down on his with all my strength. There was a sickening crack. The world went silent.

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I was with my best friend when she had an abortion. She clung to me, her body wracked with sobs. My heart ached for her, for her foolishness and her pain. I took care of her for a week, meticulously preparing light, nourishing soups for her each day, trying to coax the color back into her cheeks. It wasn’t until the week before my own engagement that I found out. The embryo she had terminated… had been my fiancé’s. 1 A week before our engagement party, a group of us from college were crammed into a booth at a noisy bar, deep into a game of Truth or Dare. The energy was electric, fueled by cheap beer and years of friendship. After a few rounds, the bottle spun and landed squarely on Dan. He offered a resigned smile. “Truth, I guess.” A round of mischievous glances passed between our friends. Someone piped up, grinning, “Alright, since the big day is next week, let’s make this topical. Have you two thought of any baby names yet?” Heat instantly flooded my ears. I couldn’t help but look up at Dan, a shy smile on my face. But the expression I met was not one of shared joy. He was staring into space, a strange, unreadable emotion clouding his eyes. It was a look so complex I couldn’t begin to decipher it. He quickly looked down, lost in thought for a few seconds before shaking himself out of it. When he looked up again, his face was arranged into a warm, wistful smile. “We haven’t decided on a proper name yet, but I’ve always liked the nickname Sol.” The table erupted. Someone slammed their hand down in excitement. “That’s so sweet! You guys have already thought that far ahead!” Annabelle, sitting beside me, joined in the laughter. “Sol… like a wish granted by the sun. It’s a beautiful name.” I glanced shyly at Dan. For a split second, his gaze rested on Annabelle before flicking away. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders, a familiar gesture of shared happiness. But I felt her fingers tighten, just slightly, against my side. I turned to look at her, thinking she was perhaps feeling sad about her own recent experience. I squeezed her back, trying to comfort her as I casually changed the subject. The party roared back to life. Later that night, Dan and I went home. I was still basking in the warm glow of his quiet, long-term planning for our future together. As we were getting ready for bed, I couldn’t resist asking again. “When did you come up with that name? You never told me.” The rhythm of his breathing beside me hitched for a moment. Then he rolled over, pulling me into his arms. His familiar scent filled my senses as he whispered against my neck, “We’re getting engaged, Clara. It’s normal to think about things like that, isn’t it?” “I know, but it’s such a lovely name. How did you think of it?” I murmured into his chest, feeling a blush creep up my neck. He didn’t answer right away, just held me tighter. “We can talk about it later. Get some sleep. We have our engagement photoshoot tomorrow.” He was right, he was probably exhausted from the party. I didn’t press him, and closed my eyes. But later, a cold sweat slicked my back and I jolted awake, ripped from a nightmare. I sat up, my hand pressed against my racing heart, trying to calm myself. That’s when I noticed it. In the dim light of our bedroom, the screen of Dan’s phone kept lighting up, pulsing with a steady stream of incoming messages. “Always check your boyfriend’s phone before the wedding.” A stupid meme I’d scrolled past earlier that day slammed into my mind. I never checked his phone. In seven years, I’d never felt the need. I trusted him. I felt cherished by him. But now, watching that insistent, glowing screen, a dark whisper of doubt coiled in my gut. My fingers moved, seemingly of their own accord. Before I could even unlock it, another message preview flashed onto the screen. I only needed a single glance for my blood to turn to ice. The numbness started in my fingertips and shot up my spine, paralyzing me. 2 He must have thought I would never look. The password was still my birthday. The moment the screen lit up, my hand began to tremble uncontrollably. The chat history had clearly been tampered with; only the last two weeks remained. As I scrolled up from the bottom, a fresh wave of cold sweat broke out across my back. She had sent him a picture of herself in a lace nightgown. Dan’s reply: You’re so beautiful, baby. Kisses. Further down, a message from her, complaining about period cramps. Dan’s reply was short and swift: I’m on my way. A roaring filled my ears. My hands shaking, I pulled up my own phone, checking the date and time of that exchange. It was sent five minutes after I had texted Dan a picture of myself with an IV in my arm, telling him my stomach flu was so bad I was in the ER and asking if he could come. He had replied an hour later. Sorry, was in a meeting. Can’t make it. And I, ever understanding, had told him not to worry. I’d managed the check-in, the forms, the waiting, all while doubled over in pain. It was the middle of summer, but I was shivering as if I’d been plunged into a frozen lake. I kept scrolling, my movements stiff and robotic. Then I reached the most recent message. “I miss our Sol, Dan. I’m in so much pain.” And just like that, I knew. The seven-year love story I had built my life around was a lie, rotten to the core. Annabelle and I had been college roommates, inseparable from the first day of freshman year. We’d watched sunrises from our dorm window and talked late into the night about our dreams, our futures, our hearts. I trusted her completely. She was my person. I introduced her to Dan not long after we all started school. Dan and I had been together since we were sixteen, high school sweethearts who had miraculously ended up at the same university. The day I introduced them, they seemed to hate each other on sight. Annabelle would even pick the food Dan put on my plate and replace it with something she had chosen. I’d brushed it off as the classic “best friend disapproves of the boyfriend” routine and spent the whole dinner trying to keep the peace. Afterward, she’d told me he was nothing but a pretty face, that he didn’t deserve me. Dan, for his part, had seemed equally disgusted by her. We tried gaming as a trio a few times, but they argued so much I eventually stopped inviting them to play at the same time. Then, during our senior year, Annabelle came to me, shaking, and told me she was pregnant. She refused to explain what had happened, who the father was. All I could do was hold her. “Don’t be scared,” I promised. “I’ll go with you.” Terrified of being seen by someone we knew, she refused to go to the reputable, top-tier hospital I had researched. We ended up at a small, anonymous clinic across town. During her recovery, my heart broke for her pale face and hollow eyes. I made her different soups every day. I’d find her staring blankly at the ceiling and quietly place a cup of warm milk in her hands. Now, I gripped my phone, my nails digging into my palm. The message at the bottom of the screen was a dagger twisting in my gut. I couldn’t breathe. Choking back a sob, I stumbled into the bathroom. Every happy memory we had ever shared shattered like a mirror, the sharp, glittering pieces raining down on me. 3 I stared at my disheveled reflection, my knuckles white as I gripped the edges of the sink. I had to be calm. I had to think. What do I do? Our families had already bought our marital home together. They’d met, they’d celebrated, they’d planned. Every friend, every relative knew we were getting engaged. The appointment for our engagement photos was tomorrow. How could I possibly untangle this mess? My eyes were drawn back to the sickening, illicit chat on the phone. My hand shaking, I tapped on Annabelle’s profile picture. Of course. Her feed was filled with posts I had never seen. A private feed, visible only to Dan. It was a meticulous record of their secret love affair. The first post was a screenshot from a video game. The caption read: So much more fun playing with you without a third wheel in the way. Dan had liked it and commented: Stick with me, kid. I’ll carry you to victory every time. Another weekend, a photo of their hands intertwined, showing off matching rings. A pink heart emoji at the end of the caption: They say that making rings with the one you love means you’ll be together forever. ♡ I remembered asking Dan, so many times, if we could do something fun like that. What had he said? It was childish? Pointless? I zoomed in on the rings in the photo and a cold wave of realization washed over me. For a while, he had worn a silver chain around his neck. The pendant… it was that ring. When I’d asked him where he got it, he’d stammered something vague. He never wore it again after that. On Valentine’s Day, while I was overjoyed by the single, wilting rose he’d bought me from a street vendor, she had posted a picture of a massive bouquet of ninety-nine red roses. Her caption: Sometimes I get so jealous of the person who got to have you all those years before me. Dan had commented with a kissing-face emoji. I’ll use our future to make it up to you. I scrolled further. Annabelle’s birthday. On her public profile, she had posted a standard nine-photo grid of her party. Dan, to avoid suspicion, hadn’t even liked it. But here, on their private feed, was a single, intimate photo. The caption: The best birthday gift ever. Next to a rumpled sheet was the profile of a man, his eyes closed in sleep. It was Dan. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I clutched the phone, gasping for air. That night, Annabelle had thrown a birthday party. Afterward, she was quite drunk, and I’d been worried about her getting home safely. I had asked Dan to drive her. I remember being concerned he would refuse, given how much they supposedly disliked each other. He had made a few token protests, but eventually agreed. After dropping her off, he’d called to say he had an urgent work issue and had to go to the office. He never came home that night. How could I have been so blind? The two people I loved most in the world, the two people who supposedly couldn’t stand each other, had been betraying me all along. Her feed was a diary of their secret life, lived in the shadows of mine. They were like a real couple, deeply in love. It made me feel like the intruder. Her profile was set to show posts from the last year. I had no idea how long their affair had truly been going on. This ugly, secret relationship had been allowed to fester and grow in the dark, hidden in plain sight. 4 The day I won a national award for a competition, I took my best friend and my boyfriend out to celebrate. In her private feed, I now saw the photo taken under the table: her high heel hooked around his pant leg. I saw the picture of her planting a soft kiss on his cheek while I was at the counter paying the bill. When I returned to the table, they were back to ignoring each other, the picture of mutual dislike. They were enjoying the thrill of the forbidden. On her birthday, while I was at home waiting for my boyfriend to return from his “emergency” at work, she was receiving what she called the best gift ever. Such a flimsy excuse, and yet my trust in them had been so absolute that I had never questioned it. A wave of nausea hit me, and I retched into the sink. And then, the worst of it. The week I took off from work to take care of her. The week I spent counseling her, comforting her, helping her curse the name of the shameless man who had abandoned her. Was she just watching a clown perform? That week, Annabelle had posted: You promised me Sol, my shining wish, and Annabelle, your peace. But in the end, I couldn’t keep him. Dan hadn’t commented, but the deleted chat logs had surely been filled with his condolences. Every word was a nail in my heart, but I forced myself to keep reading. The name he had chosen had never been for me. The embryo I had accompanied my best friend to abort, that was Sol. The irony was crushing. If I had never found out, would he have given our future child that same name? I slid down to the cold tile floor of the bathroom, a war of rage and despair raging inside me. The last seven years of my life flashed before my eyes, a highlight reel of my own foolishness. It was so absurd I almost wanted to laugh. It’s over. With numb fingers, I typed out a brief message to my parents. Then I canceled the appointment for the photoshoot. Each tap of the screen felt like the strike of a gavel, delivering a final, heavy judgment. As I stared blankly at my phone, another message from Annabelle popped up on Dan’s screen. “I’m so sad. Can you come be with me?” Even knowing everything, seeing it happen in real-time was a fresh agony. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. I scrambled to the sink and turned on the cold water, splashing it on my face. The roar of the water and my own choked sobs filled my ears. The noise finally woke Dan. “Clara? Clare? What’s wrong?” I heard his footsteps approaching the bathroom door. I wiped my face, smoothed my clothes, and ran a hand through my hair. Then I opened the door, looked straight at Dan, and pressed the voice message button on his phone. “Of course, baby. I’m on my way. And just so you know, there are no refunds on secondhand goods.”

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