Author: Momo Chan

1 For five years of marriage, Andrew never let me win. I once stood on our penthouse balcony, threatening to jump just to stop a million-dollar wire he sent to Minnie. In retaliation, he dropped ten million on a pink diamond for her the next day. When I locked Minnie in an abandoned warehouse, he had me committed to a psychiatric ward for a month. I broke when I found the lingerie he bought me was the same set he’d already undressed Minnie in. I locked myself on the roof, toes over the edge. Ready to jump, Andrew fell to his knees below, sobbing and holding up the silver guardian angel pendant he’d once prayed for at a cathedral for me. “Nora, I was wrong! I swear I’m done with Minnie. Come down and I’ll spend my life making it up to you.” I smiled bitterly. For the first time, I’d won. That afternoon, Minnie was put on a flight to Australia. Andrew changed. He updated me on his whereabouts, came home for dinner, took me on vacation. On the beach, he smiled and said, “Nora, we’re going to be this happy forever.” I was stupid enough to believe a dead tree could bloom again. Until our anniversary. The flower shop my late mother left me was trashed by thugs. At the police precinct, the desk sergeant pushed a file toward me. “The orchestrators are a married couple. Husband Andrew, wife Minnie. They legally registered their marriage in Australia.” Plunged into a frozen lake, I realized I’d been the outsider all along. This time, I suddenly didn’t want to win anymore. … When I returned from the precinct, my heart was so utterly shattered I could not even speak. Andrew had a cigarette clamped between his lips. His tone was laced with heavily suppressed annoyance. “I admit the flower shop was a mistake…” “But Minnie has been struggling in a foreign country. She does not know anyone there. It does not compare to you sitting comfortably here, enjoying the luxury of being my wife.” “I stayed with you for our anniversary, so it is completely normal that she felt unbalanced and upset!” “Just let her vent her frustration this one time, okay?” I did not say a word. I just stared at him in total silence. This was the man I had loved and hated for five years. Every word falling from his mouth felt like a microscopic needle plunging into my rotting, hole ridden heart. “Struggling in a foreign country?” A hollow laugh escaped my lips. “Andrew, you personally handled her immigration to Australia. You hired a private translator for her. You bought her a luxury villa.” “The monthly allowance you send her is enough to feed a family of three for five years!” A flicker of unnatural guilt crossed Andrew’s face. “Nora, do you really have to be this aggressive?” “Minnie is pregnant. I could not leave her all alone overseas. Her only condition for agreeing to come back was trashing that shop.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. Years ago, I ruined my health eating instant noodles and working myself to the bone to help Andrew build his startup. I developed severe anemia. Right when his business took off, I was kidnapped by one of his corporate rivals. The trauma caused me to lose my first baby. Since then, no matter how many treatments I endured, I could never get pregnant again. I remembered Andrew holding me as I cried, looking at the bruised needle marks all over my arms. “We are done trying, Nora. I am going to get a vasectomy. We can just be child free.” My heart had swelled with so much overwhelming gratitude. I thought that even without children, we could hold onto each other for a lifetime. I stopped him from getting the surgery and finally let go of my obsession with having a baby. Yet now, he and Minnie were having a child. “So you just gave her the green light to destroy the shop my mother left me?” My voice trembled uncontrollably. “Andrew, my mother held my hand on her deathbed and begged me to protect that store.” “It was the only thing she left me in this entire world!” He took a step forward, reaching out to grab my hand. “I will have a crew restore it tomorrow. I will compensate you double.” “Nora, just give me some time. Once Minnie’s emotions stabilize during the pregnancy, I will handle everything and we can go back to living our lives.” In that moment, I lost all desire to scream or fight. For five years, I had fought him and Minnie like an absolute lunatic. Every time I thought I had finally won, reality delivered a brutal slap to my face. The moon was incredibly bright tonight, hanging in the sky like a giant, glowing tear. I had originally planned a romantic dinner to tell him that against all odds, I was pregnant again. Now, those words were permanently lodged in my throat. His phone rang. It was Minnie. “Minnie brought her dog back from Australia and he is not adjusting well to the climate. I need to go check on them.” “I will make up for the anniversary later.” I watched him pack a bag full of expensive pet supplements and premium treats for Minnie’s dog. My mind instantly flashed to Barnaby, the little Bichon Frise I used to raise. Andrew despised him. He claimed he was deathly allergic to dog hair. To protect his health, I sent Barnaby to live in the country. Watching his anxious, hurried movements, a massive wave of hatred and resentment pushed me out the door. I quietly followed him to Minnie’s villa. Through the cracked door, I saw the man who claimed to be allergic to dogs. He was personally trimming a poodle’s nails, feeding it treats, and cuddling it against his chest. My fingernails dug violently into my palms. Gritting my teeth, I kicked the door open and stormed inside. Minnie was lounging on the sofa, eating a bowl of fresh fruit. The poodle was resting on Andrew’s lap while he carefully clipped its paws. The angle of his jaw highlighted that gentle, tender expression I used to know so well. On the night I had to send Barnaby away, he had held me just like that while I sobbed. “Nora, thank you for understanding. I promise I will never make you sad again.” Now, that exact same tenderness was being wasted on Minnie’s dog. The blood rushed straight to my head, making my vision pulse. “Andrew, I thought you were allergic to dogs.” I marched forward, pointing a shaking finger at the poodle rolling playfully in his lap. “You are holding that thing pretty tight. You look perfectly fine to me!” Minnie slowly chewed a piece of fruit, a lazy, arrogant smirk resting on her lips. “Nora, perfect timing. I was actually meaning to tell you.” “Barnaby apparently knocked over Andrew’s grandmother upstate. So she dropped him off at a county pound. He was put down.” My eyes widened in pure horror. Put down? For three whole years, I had refused to visit Barnaby. I was terrified that if I saw him, my heart would break and I would bring him back, making Andrew suffer. Andrew constantly assured me that Barnaby was running wild and free in the country, living a much happier life. He promised that once his allergies cleared up, we would go pick him up together. I waited like an absolute idiot for that day. I never realized our goodbye three years ago was permanent. Andrew’s eyes flickered with guilt. “Barnaby accidentally tripped my grandmother, and she…” I let out a broken laugh as hot tears spilled down my cheeks. “Andrew, your grandmother has been bedridden in a nursing home for three years! She cannot even walk!” “You expect me to believe she drove upstate to dump my dog at a kill shelter?” He did not answer. Minnie’s lips curled higher. “Oh, do not blame Andrew!” “I was the one who had him disposed of. That mutt was too loud, and I need absolute peace and quiet for my pregnancy.” Andrew did not utter a single word of defense. In that fraction of a second, the sickening truth settled into my bones. He had authorized Barnaby’s death. As long as Minnie was unhappy, Andrew would effortlessly clear away any obstacle in her path. His silence was a serrated blade twisting deep into my chest. “Give me my dog back!” I let out a bloodcurdling scream and lunged forward. Minnie shrieked in fake terror, pushing Andrew out of the way to use herself as a shield. “Hit me if you want! Andrew has nothing to do with this!” Five years of suffocating injustice erupted like a volcano. I grabbed a handful of her hair and brought my hand across her cheek, slapping her over and over again. “You stole my husband! You destroyed my mother’s shop! And you murdered my dog!” Minnie wailed, curling into a tight ball on the floor. Andrew charged forward and delivered a brutal kick to my side, sending me flying backwards. The terrified poodle lunged at me, sinking its teeth sharply into my calf. Agony flared up my leg. I screamed as my balance failed completely. I fell backwards. Andrew instinctively reached out his hand to catch me. But Minnie let out a piercing cry and clutched her stomach. “Andrew, my baby… my stomach hurts.” Andrew instantly retracted his hand, spinning around to catch the falling Minnie instead. With a deafening crash, I slammed backward into a glass display cabinet. The heavy panes shattered, raining jagged shards of glass over me like a shower of knives. Andrew did not even look back. He just clutched Minnie against his chest, his voice trembling with sheer panic. “Minnie! Are you okay? Where does it hurt?” Minnie buried her face in his shirt. “My stomach is cramping so badly. Is the baby going to be okay?” Andrew finally lifted his head to look at me, his eyes boiling with absolute rage and disgust. “Nora, are you done acting like a psychopath?!” My ears were ringing violently from his screaming. Dozens of deep cuts were bleeding freely across my arms and back, staining my clothes and dripping onto the expensive rug. “Just because you are incapable of being a mother, you have to ruin Minnie’s chances too?!” That sentence was a sledgehammer smashing directly into my soul. He knew perfectly well that I lost my baby because of his corporate enemies. Yet he weaponized my deepest, most agonizing trauma just to defend another woman. “Andrew, do you have the guts to look me in the eye and say that again?” “Did I say something wrong? Nora, how many doctors have I taken you to over the last five years?” “Top specialists, holistic clinics, everything! The fact you cannot get pregnant is your own biological failure. Have I ever blamed you for it?” “You knew Minnie was pregnant, and you still attacked her. How vicious can you possibly be?” I clenched my fists so tight my nails pierced the flesh of my palms. “Call yourself a cab to the hospital. If you need anything, it will have to wait until I get Minnie checked out.” Andrew scooped Minnie into his arms and walked out the door without looking back. I sat in a pool of shattered glass, my heart squeezed so tightly I could not pull air into my lungs. A sharp, throbbing cramp started pulsating in my lower abdomen. I looked around the luxurious villa, a masochistic urge forcing me to take in the details. The floor to ceiling windows were massive. The curtains were the exact shade of cream I had always dreamed of. That winter, when Andrew and I lived in a freezing basement apartment, we used to eat instant noodles while sketching out architectural blueprints for our future. The kitchen was an open concept, featuring three warm yellow pendant lights hanging over the island. He used to hold his cheap bowl of noodles and say, “When we strike it rich, I am going to build my baby a massive white kitchen!” “You can bake cakes in there, and I will be your handsome assistant!” The steam from the noodles had clouded my face as I watched him smile like an absolute fool. He kept his promise. He built the exact house. Only, he built it for Minnie. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I had not called in a very long time. “Lucas. I regret everything. Can you come pick me up?” I was rushed to the hospital in an ambulance. By the time they loaded me onto the stretcher, the pain in my stomach was so agonizing I could not straighten my spine. It felt like the baby inside me realized what was happening and was slowly tearing its way downward. As the paramedics rushed the stretcher through the ER lobby, I instantly spotted Andrew holding Minnie. They wheeled me right past them. Minnie lifted her head and locked eyes with me. Suddenly, she let out a hysterical scream. “Nora, please let me go! I am so sorry!” She violently ripped herself from Andrew’s embrace and dropped heavily onto her knees right on the hospital tiles. She bowed her head frantically toward my moving stretcher. “Nora, the baby is innocent!” “If you want to hit me or curse me, do it! Just please do not hurt my child!” Every single person in the waiting room turned to stare at us. Minnie wept uncontrollably. “I have absolutely nothing! This baby is all I have!” “Please just let him live!” Andrew rushed forward and wrapped his arms protectively around her, glaring at me with pure venom. “Nora, what the hell do you want from us?” The cramping in my stomach was escalating into a blinding agony. I did not even have the energy to speak. Right at that moment, a nurse standing nearby gasped loudly, staring at her phone. “Wait, isn’t this the homewrecker trending on Twitter right now?” The trending hashtag featured a batch of censored, explicit photos. The censorship barely covered anything, and the face belonged undeniably to Minnie. The caption read in bold letters: “Knew he was married, still spread her legs!” Andrew snatched the phone from the nurse, took one look at the screen, and his face turned to absolute ice. “You posted this.” He did not ask. He had already convicted me in his mind. I wanted to tell him it was not me. I had absolutely nothing to do with those photos. But my abdomen violently contracted. A massive rush of warm liquid soaked through my clothes, instantly staining the white sheets of the stretcher dark red. “Andrew, I am losing…” “You storm into her house and assault her, and now you are putting on this pathetic show in the ER?” “Nora, when are you going to stop this psychotic behavior?” He grabbed my wrist in a vice grip and violently yanked me right off the stretcher. I was dragged out of the sliding glass doors of the hospital like a broken ragdoll. It was the peak of a grueling summer heatwave. The asphalt was baking in the hundred degree sun. He threw me forward. I collapsed directly onto a heavy, cast iron utility cover embedded in the pavement. The metal cover had been soaking up the brutal sun all day. It was as hot as a frying pan. The second my bare palms hit the iron, the skin instantly blistered and burned. A horrific, searing pain shot up my arms. I screamed in agony, desperately trying to push myself up. But a tearing, explosive pain ripped through my abdomen at the exact same time. “Andrew… the baby. I am pregnant with your baby…” My voice was so weak it barely registered above a whisper. Andrew stood two steps away, looking down at me with arctic coldness. “How long are you going to keep lying?” “Five years ago, you couldn’t get pregnant, so you fabricated a kidnapping story. Now that Minnie is pregnant, you fabricate your own pregnancy!” “Nora, the fact you can confidently spit out these sick lies proves you have absolutely no boundaries left.” I lay gasping on the blistering utility cover, the skin of my palms practically fusing to the hot metal. The twisting agony in my stomach felt like someone was physically ripping my organs out. Blood pooled onto the iron surface, seeping into the cracks. A nurse burst through the ER doors, screaming at the top of her lungs. “Sir! Stop dragging her! She is having a miscarriage!” Andrew finally turned his head. He took half a step forward. Just then, Minnie stumbled out the doors, leaning weakly against the frame. “Andrew, do not fall for it!” Her voice was incredibly soft and frail. “Nora knows you have a soft heart! She pulls this exact stunt every single time!” “She obviously bribed that nurse to fake a miscarriage!” “How could she possibly be pregnant? The best doctors in the country said she was barren five years ago!” The tiny sliver of panic in Andrew’s eyes vanished, freezing over into solid ice once again. “You are right. I almost let her play me again.” He let out a cruel sneer and pulled a bright red marriage certificate from his jacket, throwing it directly at my face. “Let me tell you the truth. The certificate I gave you five years ago was a prop. It does not even have a state seal.” “Take a good look and tell me who the real mistress is.” A deafening explosion went off in my brain. Everything faded to white. After we got our certificate, Andrew said he wanted to keep it in a safe to protect it, so he took my copy. After Minnie came along, he constantly gaslighted me, claiming I had the official title of Mrs. Andrew, so I needed to be more forgiving of Minnie. But in the end, my entire marriage was a pathetic hallucination. A ragged, rattling gasp tore from my throat. I desperately tried to speak, but not a single word came out. “Andrew, let’s go home. I am so tired, and it is way too hot out here!” Minnie cast a fleeting glance down at me. The triumphant smirk on her face was partially hidden by her hair. “Nora, please stop lying. The more you do this, the more Andrew is going to hate you.” When I finally woke up, I was lying in a sterile hospital room. My right palm was wrapped in thick layers of white gauze. My abdomen felt hollow and terribly empty. A nurse was sitting by my bed. “We couldn’t save the baby. Where is your family?” I stared blankly at the ceiling and weakly shook my head. The man I had lived with for five years was legally married to another woman. Andrew was no longer my family. On the day I was discharged, I took a cab straight to the house to pack my bags. The moment I opened my closet, I heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. Two uniformed police officers stopped at the bedroom door. “Are you Nora? We received a report that you are trespassing and illegally occupying a private residence. Please come with us.” My entire body froze. This was the home I had lived in for five years. When we supposedly got married, Andrew promised my name was on the deed. I trusted him so completely I never even checked the paperwork. The officer handed me a copy of the property registry. The owner section clearly displayed one name: Minnie. The purchase date was exactly five years ago. “Ms. Minnie has requested you vacate the premises within three days. You are legally prohibited from removing any assets that do not belong to you.” I stared at the piece of paper, a hysterical laugh bubbling up in my chest. What in this house actually belonged to me? I poured my blood, sweat, and money into renovating this place. All the gold jewelry and diamonds I had saved up over the last five years legally belonged to Minnie. With trembling fingers, I finally dialed Andrew’s number. “Hello?” “Andrew, I am at the police precinct. They said I am trespassing and the house belongs to Minnie. Explain this to me right now.” Dead silence stretched across the line. Finally, he spoke. “Nora, Minnie has a very important business dinner tonight. Just go home for now…” “Go home to where?” I cut him off, my voice shaking violently. “Tell me where I am supposed to go! Andrew, I lived in that house for five years, and you are telling me it was never mine?” He did not say anything. Through the phone, I heard Minnie’s sweet voice. “Andrew, come zip up my evening gown for me…” The call abruptly disconnected. A notification popped up on my phone screen. Andrew had just posted a new update on his corporate social media. It was a high resolution scan of his Australian marriage certificate. The names, the date, the official government seal. Everything was crystal clear. The caption was a single sentence: “Tolerated it for five years. She was never my wife.” I clicked on the comment section. Pure, unfiltered malice flooded my screen. “Look at Nora acting like a lunatic. Total schizophrenia!” “The real boss finally speaks up!” “Mr. Andrew protecting his actual wife is so hot!” “Women like her are rats in the gutter. If she can’t have him, she tries to destroy him!” I sat on the cold plastic chair in the precinct, gripping my phone as the warmth drained entirely from my fingertips. A female officer handed me a paper cup of hot water. “Ma’am, are you going to be okay?” I took the cup. The dam finally broke, and I completely fell apart, sobbing uncontrollably right there in the police station. By the time I walked out of the precinct, the sky was pitch black. My phone lit up again. Another message from Andrew. “Nora, Minnie was just throwing a little tantrum. Once she calms down, I will take you house hunting!” I stared at the text message and let out a broken, raspy laugh. I waited five years for a man who never existed. I was done waiting. I pressed down on the message, swiped left, and hit delete. Then, I permanently blocked his number. The next morning, I handed a meticulously crafted presentation and my official medical miscarriage report to Minnie’s assistant, Lily. I also transferred a massive sum of money into her account. I explicitly instructed her to project it onto the main screen during Minnie’s massive celebration banquet. The presentation documented the exact timeline of Andrew and my relationship, proving beyond a shadow of a doubt who the real mistress was. It was enough to permanently destroy Minnie’s reputation. After putting the final nail in her coffin, I boarded a one way flight to Italy. For the rest of my life, I would never look back. Hours later, Andrew walked into the house. His eyes instantly locked onto a piece of paper resting on the kitchen counter, stamped with a bright red hospital seal. Patient: Nora. Seven weeks pregnant. Miscarriage due to blunt force trauma. Date: The day of our anniversary. The color vanished entirely from his face…

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1 My wife was supposed to have died in a tragic plane crash, leaving behind a brief final note. She claimed she didn’t want to be a burden, telling me to take our child and start over without her. I was sobbing uncontrollably when I suddenly heard a voice inside my head. It belonged to my daughter, who was supposed to be completely non-verbal. Dad, stop crying. Mom isn’t dead at all. She is a complete piece of trash. She cheated on you with her high school sweetheart, and they both faked her death to flee the country for a tropical honeymoon. I know exactly where her secret stash is hidden. Before she gets back, let’s drain her accounts, grab the money, and run. We’ll be set for life! The hallway outside the morgue stretched out endlessly under the harsh, blinding glow of fluorescent lights. Ellie’s business partner handed me a crumpled slip of paper. Her last words. Take the baby. Start over. I clutched the note, my fingers trembling violently. Just thirty minutes ago, I had received the phone call. Ellie’s flight had gone down. No survivors. I had rushed to the hospital, only to be met with cold, solemn faces telling me to accept my grief. And now, even in death, she was passing a message through an intermediary, telling me to rebuild my life. Tears dripped onto the paper, smudging the ink line by line. My father stood beside me, his hand on my shoulder, eyes rimmed with red. “Gavin, please. Don’t do this to yourself. You still have your baby to live for.” “Dad, I just need a moment alone.” The hallway fell quiet as he stepped away. I slumped against the cold wall, slowly sliding down until I was crouching with my face buried in my knees. That was when I heard a childish, high-pitched voice speaking with a chilling composure that didn’t belong to a kid. Dad, stop crying. Mom isn’t dead at all. My entire body froze. She’s a piece of trash. She cheated on you with her first love, and the two of them ran off overseas to live it up on a honeymoon. I snapped my head up. The corridor was utterly empty. There wasn’t a single soul around. I thought grief was making me lose my mind. Taking a deep breath, I tried to push myself up. The voice returned, clearer this time. It’s me, Dad. Mom told you to take me and start over because she was terrified you’d claim a share of her estate. She thinks you have no clue how much money she really has. My knuckles turned white as I clutched my pants. This wasn’t a hallucination. The voice was echoing straight inside my head. I stared down at my lap, my lips quivering. “Baby?” Yep, it’s me. Stop crying for a second and hear me out. Mom never boarded that plane. She paid top dollar to forge the passenger manifest. Tristan is her ex. They’ve been secretly back together for six months. She wanted you to abort me not because she cared about your struggles, but because she didn’t want another heir cutting into her fortune. A violent buzz echoed in my brain. Check the hidden compartment in the study. Right under the third floorboard. Three account books, two USB drives, and a one-way ticket to the Maldives under Tristan’s name. Go see for yourself. My fingernails dug deep into my palms. There is also a bank card loaded with twenty million dollars, registered under Tristan’s name. She used him to offload her assets. Dad, that’s our money now. Let’s spend it. I know where all her secret vaults are. Before she gets back, we take everything and vanish. Our future will be completely secured! I didn’t utter a word. Footsteps clattered down the far end of the hallway. Ellie’s partner, Vivian, was walking back toward me. “Gavin, are you holding up alright? You know what Ellie wanted. As for the baby… you need to make a decision soon.” Her eyes brimmed with gentle concern, yet beneath it lay an unspoken push. I stood up, tears still glistening on my cheeks. I looked down at my stomach, placing a hand over it. “Thank you, Vivian. I’ll think about it.” She nodded softly and turned to leave. Nia’s voice floated back into my mind, smooth and unhurried. Yeah, keep that exact look on your face. Dad, let’s destroy her. Standing in the dimly lit hallway, I rested my hand firmly over my bump, tuning into her thoughts. “Baby.” Yeah? “Did you say she went to the Maldives?” Mm-hmm. Two tickets, both booked under Tristan’s name. “When is she coming back?” In two weeks. I wiped my face clean of tears. Two weeks. That was more than enough time. When I got home from the hospital, I went straight into the study. Behind the bookshelf, Nia’s voice sounded coolly. There’s a safe. I hadn’t even known a safe existed in our house. It was built into the wall, secured with a six-digit combination lock. The code is Tristan’s birthday. June 15, 1992. 920615. I paused for a second. 920615. I typed in the digits. The heavy lock clicked open. There wasn’t much inside. A bank passbook, two thick stacks of cash, and a thick kraft paper envelope. I pulled out the envelope first and opened it. A stack of photographs fell out. Tristan walking along a sandy beach. Tristan sipping coffee by a window. Tristan smiling warmly into the camera. The shots were taken from various angles, looking almost candid, almost secret. Tucked beneath the stack was a folded sheet of paper. Unfolding it, I recognized Ellie’s sleek handwriting. Wait for me, Tristan. Just four words. The strokes were heavy, pressed so hard into the paper that the back was deeply indented. She had written it with fierce conviction. I slipped the photos and the note back into the envelope without altering a thing. Next, I opened the passbook. The holder’s name was Tristan. Every single deposit exceeded fifty thousand dollars, transferred regularly from Ellie under the label “Living Expenses.” The most recent transaction was from a month ago: a flat one hundred thousand dollars. Dad, there’s more stuff on her laptop, Nia chimed in. I sat down at the desk. Ellie’s laptop required both biometric verification and a password. My fingerprint cleared the first security check. The second check was a six-digit code. 920615. I entered it. The desktop loaded instantly. Check the Recycle Bin. The bin icon showed empty. I opened it anyway, but nothing was listed. She cleared it before leaving, Nia noted. But clearing it doesn’t mean it’s permanently gone. Follow my instructions and restore the files. I executed my daughter’s step-by-step instructions. Ten minutes later, over three hundred deleted files reappeared in the bin. I opened the folder labeled Chat Logs. Conversations with “Tristan” over the past three months. I clicked on the top thread. Ellie: Tickets are locked in for the 15th next month. Tristan: Are you sure he won’t suspect anything? Ellie: Not a chance. I told him it’s just a business trip. Tristan: What about the baby? Have you talked to him yet? Ellie: Not yet. It’ll be easier for him to accept once I “disappear.” Tristan: How are you going to pull off “disappearing”? Ellie: I’ve got it all arranged. Don’t panic when it happens, just follow my lead. I scrolled down line by line. Every phrase felt like a sharp needle, stabbing lightly but relentlessly. Tristan asked, When are you going to come clean with him? She replied, No need to come clean. I’ll make sure he walks away on his own. Tristan said, I’m worried he’ll make a scene. She replied, He won’t. He has no spine. I snapped the laptop shut. Dad, there’s another card hidden in the false bottom of the box, Nia reminded me. I felt around the interior of the safe until my fingers caught on a small groove. Sure enough, a plastic card popped out. “Whose card is this?” I asked silently. Tristan’s. It’s under his name, but the money is Mom’s. She stashed part of her wealth with him before leaving so you wouldn’t track it down. I held the card between my fingers, examining it carefully. “How much is on it?” Over four million. I pocketed the card in silence. My legs felt numb when I tried to stand, forcing me to lean against the edge of the desk for support. Dad, aren’t you going to the funeral home? Nia asked softly. “Yeah.” I put on a plain black shirt and didn’t bother fixing my messy hair or face. In the mirror, the man looking back had swollen red eyes and a deathly pale face. I looked every bit the grieving widower. Good. I wouldn’t even have to pretend. When I arrived at the memorial center, reporters were already waiting outside. Ellie’s “belongings” were brought out in a silver suitcase: a few casual outfits, a leather wallet, and her passport. My hands trembled as the staff member passed the suitcase to me. I recognized the clothes inside. There was a grey cashmere sweater I had bought her last winter. She had told me back then, “This is way too expensive, you should return it.” I had smiled and replied, “It looks beautiful on you.” She had kept it, but she had never worn it once. Now, that very sweater had taken a fake trip around the airport with a woman who faked her death, only to be delivered right back to my hands. I cradled the suitcase, tears splashing onto the metallic surface. Reporters crowded around, shoving microphones toward my face. “Mr. Lin, is there anything you’d like to say to your late wife?” I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. My father supported me from the side, tears streaming down his own face. Relatives whispered around us, sighing in pity. “Poor guy… left all alone with a child on the way.” I doubled over, sobbing so hard I could barely stand. By evening, my picture was plastered across the local news headlines. Grieving Husband Collapses at Memorial for Finance Executive Killed in Air Disaster. When we returned home, I shut the door, tossed the suitcase onto the floor, and slid down against the wooden panel. Nia’s voice bubbled up in my mind. Dad, you really put on a show today. Careful, or your eyes are gonna swell shut. I let out a long sigh. “I was genuinely heartbroken. That cashmere sweater set me back over twelve hundred dollars.” …Dad, you were crying over a sweater? “It was my hard-earned money! Twelve hundred bucks! If I knew she’d never wear it, I wouldn’t have spent a dime.” Nia sounded entirely speechless. Tomorrow, we start hunting down Mom’s secret stash. Her total assets aren’t just twelve hundred, they’re at least eight million. Over the next few days, I put on the performance of a devastated, broken husband, making sure nobody doubted my grief. I didn’t even need to force the emotions; reading through Ellie’s text messages with Tristan was enough to keep me miserable. On the third day, Ellie’s business partner, Vivian, came by the house. She sat on the living room sofa, looking solemn and heavy-hearted. I wore a wrinkled hoodie, hadn’t washed my hair in days, and my eyes were swollen to slits. “Gavin… about Ellie… we are all deeply saddened. But you know what her final wishes were. You need to let go. Holding on like this will ruin your health.” “I know,” I murmured, keeping my head low, voice shaking. “I’ve arranged everything with the hospital. The top specialist will handle the procedure. It’s completely safe.” I raised my head to look at her, my eyes bloodshot. “Vivian, can you give me a little more time to think?” She scrutinized me for a moment, sighed softly, and stood up to leave. The instant the front door clicked shut, Nia’s voice rang out clearly. Dad, she’s pushing you to abort me because Mom instructed her to. As long as I’m here, you’re entitled to a share of the estate. If I’m gone, you get kicked out with nothing. “I know.” Then why didn’t you put her in her place just now? “The timing isn’t right yet.” I stood up and went to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. The man in the mirror was pale, exhausted, and covered in tear stains. I pulled a bottle of moisturizer from the drawer, tested a drop on my hand, and then set it back down. Not yet. By the fourth day, I began making phone calls. “Hello, Ms. Scott? This is Gavin, Ellie’s husband… Yes, I’d like to consult you regarding marital assets.” Ms. Scott was one of the sharpest family law attorneys in the city. Her voice lowered over the receiver. “Mr. Lin, is it convenient for you to speak right now?” “It is. My wife passed away.” Silence stretched over the line for two seconds. “…My condolences.” I recited a detailed list of every asset registered under Ellie’s name that I could track. When I finished, Ms. Scott asked, “Are you certain these are all of them?” “I’m not. That’s why I’m calling you.” After hanging up, I contacted financial advisors and bank representatives. I didn’t know the access codes to most of Ellie’s private accounts, but Nia did. Dad, her off-grid account at Grand Trust uses Tristan’s birthday as the PIN. Call them directly and request an emergency balance inquiry. They’ll release it to the legal spouse upon verification. I picked up my phone, my fingers hovering briefly. “What else?” Her Porsche was bought on a loan. Don’t touch it, let her credit take the hit. The suburban house is under her mother’s name, so forget about that one. But the downtown apartment was bought after marriage, and it’s solely under her name. You own half of that. “What’s it worth?” Market value is around five hundred thousand. List it for a quick sale at forty thousand below market. It’ll sell within a week. I took notes as she spoke, filling seventeen items in my phone’s memo app. Stocks, mutual funds, savings, real estate, each paired with precise instructions on how to liquidate them. On the fifth day, I went to Ellie’s corporate office to pack up her “personal belongings.” Vivian escorted me into the spacious office. As the door closed, I could hear employees whispering outside. “Poor Mr. Lin, coming all the way here to pack up her things while expecting…” I stood in front of Ellie’s mahogany desk for a long moment before picking up a framed picture. It was our wedding photo. In it, she had her arm wrapped around my waist, and I was beaming at the camera. I placed the frame into a cardboard box, letting a fresh tear fall. Vivian stood near the doorway, hesitating. “Gavin… if you need any help at all, don’t hesitate to ask.” “Thank you, Vivian,” I wiped my eyes. “Can I stay in here alone for a few minutes?” “Of course.” Once the door clicked shut, I knelt down, pulled the photo frame out of the box, and popped open the back panel. There was nothing hidden inside. I wasn’t actually looking for anything. I just wanted to confirm that she hadn’t bothered to leave behind a single genuine memory. I took only three things from her office: our wedding photo, a five-year-old worn leather notebook, and a fountain pen she never used. I carried the box home and set it beside my bed. On the evening of the sixth day, I lay in bed, reviewing my phone memo from top to bottom. Six million dollars. That was the total sum Nia had calculated. Dad, are you nervous? “Not at all.” Your heart rate is at a hundred and ten. “…Maybe a little.” Don’t be. Everything you’re doing is completely legal. Marital assets left behind by a ‘deceased’ spouse are inherited by the surviving partner. Her faking a plane crash is her crime; you liquidating assets is your right. The two don’t conflict. I rolled onto my side, resting a hand gently over my stomach. “Nia, thank you.” Silence stretched for two seconds. Dad, don’t thank me yet. Wait until I help you win this entire game. Seven days ago, I was weeping in a funeral hall. Seven days later, every liquid dollar under Ellie’s name was officially en route to accounts she couldn’t touch. Nia’s voice echoed in my mind, relaxed and steady. Dad, the Sinclairs are coming tomorrow. “I know.” Are you ready for them? I stroked my bump gently. “What do you think?” Early the next morning, Tristan’s family showed up right on schedule. At ten o’clock sharp, the doorbell rang. I peeked through the peephole. Tristan’s parents were standing outside alongside a middle-aged woman in a sharp business suit, holding a leather briefcase. I opened the door. I didn’t need to fake my exhaustion; over the past eight days, I had lost nearly ten pounds. “Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair?” Tristan’s father forced a sympathetic smile. “Gavin, son. We came to check on you. We were worried about you managing all alone.” He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. Mrs. Sinclair slipped in behind him, and the suit-clad woman followed, pulling the door shut behind them. I closed the latch and remained standing in the entryway. Mr. Sinclair took a seat on the sofa, surveying the room before letting out a dramatic sigh. “Gavin, we heard about Ellie. It’s such a tragedy… a true shock.” He dabbed at the corner of his eyes, though there wasn’t a single tear. Mrs. Sinclair sat beside him and cleared her throat. “Ellie was always so good to our family. She even sent us monthly living allowances…” I nodded slowly. “She certainly was generous. Three thousand dollars a month for three straight years. That comes out to over a hundred thousand dollars.” Mr. Sinclair’s smile stiffened for a fraction of a second before recovering. “Yes, well, she was a dutiful girl…” “Extremely dutiful,” I replied smoothly. “If people didn’t know better, they’d think you two were her actual in-laws.” The living room instantly fell dead silent. Mr. Sinclair’s mouth hovered open. Mrs. Sinclair’s expression hardened. The woman in the suit cleared her throat and opened her briefcase. “Mr. Lin, we’re here today to discuss a prior commitment made by Ms. Ellie.” “What commitment?” She pulled out a neatly folded document and smoothed it onto the coffee table. “This is an IOU signed personally by Ms. Ellie for seventy-five thousand dollars. The loan was co-signed by her and Mr. Tristan Sinclair to support Mrs. Sinclair’s business ventures. Now that Ms. Ellie has tragically passed, this liability falls onto you as her sole estate heir.” I walked over, picked up the paper, and scanned it. It was indeed Ellie’s handwriting. The signature was authentic, dated a year ago. Tristan’s elegant signature sat right next to hers. The attorney pulled another stack of papers from her bag. “Additionally, Ms. Ellie pledged to provide Mr. Tristan’s parents with three thousand dollars monthly until their passing. Here are screenshots of their chat logs confirming her personal commitment.” I set the IOU back on the table and looked straight at Mr. Sinclair. “Sir, did you come here today expecting cash?” Mr. Sinclair let out a soft sigh, his tone turning as soft as cotton. “Gavin, we didn’t want to come. But with Ellie gone, Tristan has no steady support… We rely on these funds in our old age. You know his mother’s health isn’t great…” “Health isn’t great, yet you let your daughter-in-law fund your lifestyle?” I interrupted coldly. Mr. Sinclair’s face drained of color. “Who bought the BMW your daughter drives? Who paid for the designer belt your son wears? And who covered the down payment on your three-bedroom house?” I spoke deliberately, letting every word cut through the air. “Ellie did.” Mrs. Sinclair stood up defensively. “Gavin, watch your tone—” “I am watching my tone,” I glared at her. “Ma’am, the vacation home you built in your hometown cost over a hundred thousand dollars. Where did that money come from?” Her mouth worked silently, unable to form an answer. I pulled a stack of financial statements from the side drawer and tossed them onto the table. Page after page of itemized bank transfer records. “These are all the transfers Ellie made to your family over the years. The monthly allowances plus various ‘loans’ total over two hundred thousand dollars.” Mr. Sinclair stared at the numbers, his lips trembling. “Gavin… this was given voluntarily by Ellie…” “Voluntarily,” I agreed with a slight nod. “Then by all means, go ask her for it.” Silence descended upon the room once again. The lawyer coughed nervously. “Mr. Lin, even if these transfers are accurate, they do not invalidate the legal binding of the signed IOU. As the estate heir—” “As the estate heir,” I cut her off, “I have the right to divide our marital property first.” “And once divided, that money is mine.” “Furthermore, I have a question I’d like to consult a prosecutor about.” I locked eyes with Mr. Sinclair, my voice quiet yet piercing. “Over the past three years, does the two hundred thousand dollars your family received count as unjust enrichment or illegal asset concealment?” Mr. Sinclair’s face turned completely ghost-white. Mrs. Sinclair grabbed his arm, practically dragging him toward the front door. I leaned back against the sofa, resting my hand against my chest. My heart was pounding fast, not out of fear, but sheer adrenaline. Dad. “Yeah?” Tomorrow, your wife comes back from the dead. “She’s not my wife anymore.” Right. Tomorrow, the dead woman comes back to life. I pulled out my phone and checked the calendar. Day fourteen. It was time for her return.

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Chapter 1 Three years into our marriage, Julian suddenly lost interest in me. Every time we fought, he would just push his childhood best friend, Mia, between us. “Mia is a woman too; she understands you better. Talk to her, and stop making a scene with me.” Desperate to force him to actually look at me, I maxed out three of his platinum cards in a single day. I took a pair of scissors to every custom-tailored dress shirt in his closet. On our anniversary, I posted on Facebook: [Julian Vance has a mistress. He hasn’t been home in three years.] When mutual friends screenshotted it and texted him, he just frowned at Mia. “Go ask her if she’s done acting crazy.” Hearing the sheer disgust in his voice, a pang of regret actually hit me. I was just about to swallow my pride and apologize when I heard Mia’s voice, dripping with overwhelming guilt: “Julian, please don’t blame Chloe. She just wants you to comfort her.” “If you hadn’t gone off the grid with me in Iceland for seven days to see the Northern Lights… maybe her parents wouldn’t have been pushed to the brink by those debt collectors…” “And then you forced her to get an abortion because you and I made a pact to remain child-free, and it left her infertile. I know you lied and told her those things were just accidents, but I’ve always felt so guilty…” “The doctor said her mental state might improve if she had a child. Just… let her have the baby I’m carrying.” A heavy silence followed. Finally, Julian spoke. “Focus on your pregnancy. Don’t let that crazy woman anywhere near you.” Suddenly… I didn’t want to make a scene anymore. That night, Mia came to my room holding two of Julian’s black cards, looking at me with eyes full of pity. “Julian said you can max these out too, if it makes you feel better. He knows your mental health is fragile right now, Chloe. He wants me to handle all communications between you two from now on.” I stared at her hand—the one she had intentionally, delicately placed over her lower stomach. I looked down, pulled a divorce agreement from my drawer, and placed it in her free hand. “In that case, you can handle the divorce negotiations, too.” … Mia looked down at the paperwork, a mask of deep conflict settling over her face. “Chloe… does Julian know about this?” “He doesn’t,” I said, meeting her gaze. “But you’re going to make sure he signs it.” Mia hesitated. “Chloe, please don’t misunderstand me. Julian really does care about you. It’s just that you’re always so hysterical, he’s afraid to get close…” “Mia.” I cut her off. “I want to see the signed agreement in three days. You’re so good at passing messages. Pass this one along.” She bit her lip, her voice turning even softer and sweeter. “Chloe, Julian’s been having terrible stomach issues lately. Please don’t pressure him…” “I’m not pressuring him,” I smiled faintly. “I’m pressuring you.” Her expression stiffened for a fraction of a second before melting back into absolute docility. She turned and brought over a small, steaming bowl of bird’s nest soup. “Let’s put this aside for now. Have some soup.” “Bird’s nest is the absolute best thing for pregnant women. Even though you aren’t pregnant, Chloe, it’s still very nourishing.” I looked at the bowl and let out a dry laugh. No wonder the housekeeper had been stewing this expensive soup every single day for the past month. It was for the pregnant woman. I was highly allergic to bird’s nest. Julian knew that. My mind drifted over the past three years. Every single time Julian and I fought, Mia was there, pouring tea, acting as the peacemaker. “Don’t be mad, Chloe. You know Julian just has a hard time expressing his feelings.” “Julian, Chloe just wants what’s best for you. Go talk to her.” I genuinely used to believe that our marriage was only surviving because she was playing the mediator. I used to feel guilty for being jealous of her. I thought I was being petty and insecure. But now, it was like a blindfold had been ripped off. Everything from the past three years suddenly made sickening sense. She was just the daughter of the Vance family’s chauffeur, yet she had unrestricted access to the family estate. She was the only one who knew the passcode to Julian’s private study. She was the “messenger” for our marriage, but every single thing she did made her look more like Mrs. Vance than I did. I pushed the bowl back across the table. “I’ll wait for your news.” As I stood up, I added one last thing. “Oh, and you don’t need to consult me about household matters anymore. You have full authority.” I hadn’t noticed the study door open. Julian had obviously heard my last sentence. He glared at me, his brow heavily furrowed. “What do you mean, ‘full authority’? Chloe, are you Mrs. Vance, or is she?” I turned to look at him. “Is there a difference? For the past three years, she attends family galas in my place. She relays your words to me. She knows better than I do which high-society events I should attend and who I should network with. Tell me, which duty of ‘Mrs. Vance’ has she not fulfilled?” “You—” Mia immediately stepped between us. “Julian, Chloe is just upset right now. Please don’t be mad at her.” She reached out, grabbing my arm in her perfect ‘peacemaker’ act. “Don’t touch me!” I instinctively pulled my arm back. With a dramatic gasp, Mia threw her entire body weight sideways, collapsing toward the floor. Julian’s face instantly turned white. He lunged forward and caught her before she hit the ground. “Chloe!” He snapped his head up to glare at me, his eyes burning with an uncontainable rage. “Are you out of your damn mind?! She spends every single day dealing with your psychotic drama, she’s completely exhausted, and now you’re getting physical?!” I stood frozen in place. In the past, whenever I pulled away from her, she would just take a half-step back, smile sweetly, and say, “Don’t be mad, Chloe.” But today, she dared to throw herself at the floor. She dared to huddle against his chest with red, teary eyes. She dared to let him see me “push” her. Because she had something in her belly now. She knew that if she fell, Julian’s heart would break. She knew it would just prove that I was “crazy.” Sure enough, Julian’s voice dropped to a dangerous octave. “Are we going to make this marriage work or not?” “No.” I heard myself laugh, a sharp, broken sound. “No, we’re not. Is that what you want to hear? You’re right, Julian. I am crazy.” Mia nestled in his arms, whispering softly, “Julian, let it go. I know Chloe didn’t mean it…” “Shut up.” I pointed a shaking finger at her. “You can drop the act, Mia. You’re the perfect messenger, right? Then I’ll tell you right now: make him sign the papers. Sign them, and I’m gone. I will never step foot in this house again.” Julian stared at me, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. “What kind of psychotic episode is this?” “Psychotic episode?” I smiled, taking a step back. “Right. I’m crazy. You want crazy? I’ll give you crazy.” I spun around, stormed into his study, grabbed a heavy porcelain vase, and hurled it directly at his prized, antique painting on the wall. The glass shattered. Black ink splattered across the hardwood floor. “Is that crazy enough?” I turned back to look at him. “Do you want more?” He stood in the doorway, shielding Mia behind his back. He looked at me like I was a terminal patient who had finally lost her mind. “Chloe,” he said coldly. “Calm down.” “I am perfectly calm.” I dusted off my hands and smiled faintly. “Julian, starting today, whoever you want to be Mrs. Vance can be Mrs. Vance. I don’t give a damn anymore.” Julian’s face darkened like a thundercloud. “You are the one who schemed and plotted your way into this marriage, and now you’re the one saying you don’t give a damn. Chloe, what do you think the Vance family is? A revolving door?” I smiled bitterly. He was right. I had exhausted every ounce of my energy to lock myself inside this gilded cage. I had swallowed the key and lied to myself, calling it love. “In the Vance family, marriages only end in widowhood, not divorce,” he enunciated every single word. “If you think you’re walking out of here alive, you’re dreaming.” He turned his head to the housekeeper standing nervously in the hall. “Take my wife to her room. She is not to leave without my explicit permission.” The housekeeper grabbed my arm and dragged me up the stairs. From below, I could still hear his low, gentle voice comforting Mia. “Don’t worry. She’s just running her mouth. She’ll be back to normal in a few days.” Back to normal in a few days? I closed my eyes and let out a derisive scoff. In the past, no matter how hysterical I got, no matter how much I screamed, it was all just a desperate plea for him to look at me. This was the very first time I had ever said the word “divorce.” He didn’t even realize that the moment those words left my lips, something had shattered for good. It couldn’t be glued back together. Julian… we’re past the point of no return. When I woke up the next morning, my door was finally unlocked. As I walked downstairs, Mia immediately stood up. “Chloe! You’re awake! Let me get you some congee.” I glanced at the bowl. Bird’s nest congee. Again. Julian knew perfectly well that bird’s nest gave me severe hives. It made my skin itch and burn for an entire day. But for the past month, he ordered the kitchen to stew it daily to nourish Mia and her pregnancy. If I drank it, I suffered. If I refused, I was being a spoiled, picky brat. To prove that I was being “good,” I had forced it down my throat every day for a month. He hadn’t even noticed. His entire perception of whether I was being “crazy” or “good” relied entirely on whatever came out of Mia’s mouth. So it didn’t matter how much I tried to change, or how much anger I swallowed. It was useless. He was deaf to my words. He only heard hers. “I’m not eating it.” I pushed the bowl away. Mia looked at Julian with wide, helpless eyes. “Julian… Chloe is being difficult again…” “If she doesn’t want it, let her starve,” he said without looking up from his Wall Street Journal. “Sit down and eat your breakfast, Mia.” Mia didn’t sit. She picked the bowl back up and placed it in front of me again. “Chloe, please just have a few bites. Julian specifically asked the chef to make this for you. He noticed you haven’t been eating much lately and you’ve lost weight.” She held the porcelain spoon out to me. “It’s your own body. If you don’t care about your health, Julian will be so worried.” “I said I’m not eating it,” I snapped, impatiently swatting her hand away. The bowl hit the marble floor and shattered. Mia let out a startled shriek, her eyes instantly filling with tears. “Chloe… I didn’t mean to make you mad…” Julian threw his paper down and strode over, inspecting her hand for cuts. A second later, he grabbed the remaining half-bowl of congee from the counter, gripped my jaw with one hand, and forcefully poured the scalding liquid down my throat. He only let go after I was forced to swallow the last drop, slamming the empty bowl onto the counter. “From now on, you eat whatever the kitchen makes. If you throw another tantrum, I have a dozen ways to make you stay quiet.” I slumped over the table, coughing violently. And as I coughed, I started to laugh. I laughed at my own stupidity. I actually thought there was still something in this house worth fighting for. He turned and grabbed his suit jacket. “I have business dinners tonight. I’ll be back late.” He glanced back at me one last time, his jaw clenched. “Don’t act crazy again.” The front door clicked shut. Mia looked at me, shaking her head in mock pity. “Chloe, why do you do this to yourself? Bird’s nest is a luxury. If it weren’t for my… special condition, I wouldn’t even get to eat it.” I steadied myself on the edge of the table and stood up, looking at her with disdain. “So, when are you going to get him to sign the agreement?” She smiled sweetly. “What’s the rush, Chloe?” “The Vance and Sinclair families are hosting a joint gala the day after tomorrow. As Mrs. Vance, it would look very bad if you didn’t attend.” I let out a scoff. “I’m not even allowed at private family dinners. You think I have a seat at a high-society gala?” “Mia, drop the act. I’m exhausted just watching you perform.” Knowing about her ‘special condition,’ she clearly felt she didn’t need to maintain the innocent facade anymore. She sank comfortably into the plush sofa. “Alright, Chloe. Since we’re putting our cards on the table, I’ll be blunt. Did you really think playing the ‘I want a divorce’ card as a reverse-psychology trick would actually win him back?” “Everyone from the top to the bottom of the Vance estate calls me before they even think about calling you. What exactly do you have to fight me with?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “If you’re so powerful, and you can’t even get a simple divorce paper signed, you have no business plotting a coup.” Her expression faltered. She clearly hadn’t expected me to call her bluff so aggressively. “If I don’t have that signed agreement in my hands by tomorrow,” I warned her, “I will ensure that neither you nor your bastard child ever get official recognition in this family.” “I will be a ‘crazy wife’ for the rest of my life. I will haunt him until the day I die.” “I might be a fallen heiress, but I am still the legal wife. You’ve been scheming for three years, and he has never once brought up divorcing me. Haven’t you figured it out yet?” I knew exactly where to strike. Her face instantly darkened. “And let’s take a step back. What if I agree to let Julian adopt a child to save my mental health… but I absolutely refuse to let it be yours?” “Julian has always felt insanely guilty about my infertility. Do you want to bet on whether or not he’d agree to my terms?” She didn’t say a word. For weeks, she had been dropping aggressive hints, practically begging me to discover her pregnancy so I would throw a massive, relationship-ending tantrum. A scandal like that would either end in divorce or leave my reputation completely shredded. But I knew the truth, and I hadn’t reacted at all. “Chloe,” she smiled, dropping the ‘sisterly’ honorific for the first time. “What exactly do you want?” “I already told you what I want.” I took a step back. “The choice is yours.” I turned and walked up the stairs. Half of what I said was a bluff to scare her. The other half was the absolute truth. If I couldn’t escape this hellhole, then I was going to make sure no one else found peace either. I was already labeled a “crazy woman.” I had no problem acting the part. By noon the next day, Mia placed the signed divorce agreement on the table in front of me. “Julian said that ending a toxic, draining marriage is for the best.” Looking at his bold, elegant signature on the dotted line, my chest tightened painfully. Once, we had loved each other so fiercely. I never thought our marriage would end via a proxy messenger. “Thank you.” I had just tucked the agreement into my purse when a familiar voice called out from the entryway. “Chloe!” My body went rigid. I turned my head. My teenage brother, Liam, was striding toward me in his high school uniform. “Liam? What are you doing here?” “Julian had Mia pick me up.” He shook a bottle of juice in his hand. “He said you missed me, and told me to stay over for a couple of days.” My throat closed up. Three years ago, my family’s company went bankrupt. The loan sharks were ruthless, and they hadn’t stopped hunting us since. I had kept Liam completely hidden for three years. I didn’t even put my name down as his emergency contact at school, terrified that the debt collectors would track him down. Julian promised me—swore to me—that he would never mention Liam to anyone. How did this happen… “Mia!” I couldn’t stop my voice from rising. “What the hell are you playing at?” Mia blinked, looking the picture of innocence. “Chloe, why are you yelling at me? Julian knows you hate large crowds, so he asked me to pick Liam up to attend the Vance-Sinclair gala in your place. I was just following orders.” “Absolutely not!” I forced my temper down. “You can go by yourself.” I grabbed Liam’s arm, ready to drag him out the door. Just then, the front door clicked open. Julian was home. His gaze swept over me and my brother, finally landing on Mia’s slightly reddened eyes. “What’s going on?” Mia shook her head sadly. “Chloe can’t attend the gala, but she won’t let Liam go either. I just don’t know how to explain her absence to the elders now.” Julian looked at me. “Sending Liam is for your own good. Since you won’t be there, having your brother represent you will remind people who Mrs. Vance actually is.” “Julian, are you out of your mind?! You know exactly what exposing him to the public means—” I bit my tongue, forcing the rest of the sentence back down. Liam was only seventeen. He thought his sister married a wonderful, protective man. He thought going to a gala was just a fun night out. No matter how miserable my reality was, I refused to let him see it. “Julian. We need to talk. Alone.” I kept my voice low. He didn’t even break his stride, heading straight for his study. “Talk to Mia.” “Julian!” I took a step after him. Mia instantly stepped in front of me, reciting the line I was so sickeningly tired of hearing. “Chloe, to avoid any unnecessary conflict, please just relay your message through me.” Again. He refused to speak a single word to me, even when I wasn’t being “crazy.” “Fine. I’ll tell you,” I said, glaring at Mia. “Liam is not going anywhere. If you so much as lay a finger on him, I will call the police.” Swallowing the bitter lump in my throat, I grabbed Liam’s hand and pulled him out the door. In the car, I gave him strict instructions. “Liam, I’m transferring you to a different school as soon as possible. If Mia ever tries to pick you up again, do not get in her car.” He looked confused, but nodded. “Okay. I’ll listen to you, Chloe.” He looked at me, seeming to sense the unspoken tension. “Chloe… please take care of yourself. Just wait until I grow up. Once I make it big, I’ll protect you.” My nose stung. “I know you will.” I watched him safely walk through the school gates before turning my car around and driving out to the suburbs. The cemetery was incredibly quiet at night. My parents’ headstones stood side-by-side. I placed the flowers I bought on the ground and sat in the damp grass. “Mom. Dad.” I traced the engraved letters with my fingertips. “I think… I married the wrong man.” I fell asleep leaning against their headstones that night. The next day, I went back to the villa, packed my bags, and tried calling Liam. It went straight to voicemail. Panicking, I called his homeroom teacher. The teacher sounded confused. “Someone from your family picked him up yesterday afternoon. He took a leave of absence, saying he had to attend a formal family gala.” The teacher wouldn’t say anything else, but my blood ran cold. I instantly knew what had happened. I frantically dialed Julian’s number. Mia answered. “Chloe? Julian is busy right now. Is there a message you need me to relay?” “Where is Liam?!” “Him?” Mia laughed softly. “I went to pick him up yesterday evening, and he absolutely refused to come with me. So I told him, ‘If you don’t go, your sister is going to be a laughingstock in the Vance family.’ He got in the car like a good boy after that. I dropped him back at his dorm right after the gala ended. Why?” “The school said he never came back!” The line went silent for a split second, then Julian’s voice came through. “What’s going on?” I broke down crying. “Julian! Liam never made it back to school! You need to send your men to find him right now—” “Chloe.” He cut me off, his tone laced with cold annoyance. “Are you throwing another tantrum? Mia watched him walk through the school gates with her own eyes. How could he be missing? Are you really making up a kidnapping just because I didn’t let you go to a party?” “Julian, I swear to God I’m not making this up—” “Enough. You are seriously becoming a massive disappointment.” He hung up. When I tried calling back, his phone was turned off. At 7:00 PM, when they finally returned to the villa, I charged at them, ready to demand answers. But the police arrived at the door first. “We found Liam’s body in the river on the outskirts of town. He was kidnapped. The kidnappers demanded a ransom, but no one answered their calls, so they executed him.” “The remains were… incomplete. He was dismembered.” I stood there, listening to the officers deliver the news word by word. And then, I laughed. I laughed so hard I doubled over. I laughed until my face was entirely soaked with tears. Julian, his face ashen, muttered something to the officers, and they quietly left. Then he walked over and crouched down in front of me. “Chloe. Please don’t be like this.” “Julian.” I slowly raised my head to look at him. “This was you protecting my family? What exactly did you protect?” He froze. He couldn’t utter a single syllable. I stood up, walked into the kitchen, and grabbed the sharpest butcher knife from the block.

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I was the one who stayed by his side the longest. They said I was good at playing my cards. They said he would marry me. “Marriage? Is that even possible?” The lighter clicked between his fingers, patient as cruelty. “She’s just another schemer. Same as the rest.” That was the day after I risked my life to save him. I opened the hospital-room door. Under his watchful presence, I climbed onto the sill and stepped off—down through glass and air, down from the twenty-eighth floor—until the world ended. That was how I cut short a lifetime of loving under the control of a system. 1. Valentine’s Day. The subway was packed with commuters heading home, bodies pressed together like they shared a single pulse. Beside me, a stranger’s phone was open to an article about a summit. His name sat on the screen as though it belonged there. Ethan Brooks. Sometimes he felt impossibly far away. Other times he was so close I could almost touch him—close enough that when I walked into a grocery store, I filled my basket with everything he liked. “I’ll be home in ten minutes.” He didn’t answer. In the penthouse apartment in Manhattan, the door opened. The first thing I smelled was perfume that wasn’t mine. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your girlfriend?” The girl had already risen from the couch. She smoothed her dress into place with practiced grace. Her legs were long and pale—slim in the way only a girl barely twenty could be. “Girlfriend?” He stood half in shadow, his voice deliberately casual. “Do I have one?” Everyone in New York’s upper circles knew I’d been with him for ten years. “You’re so bad!” Our little dog recognized me first. Tail wagging, she rushed forward and pushed the door wide. Every eye in the room turned. The girl came running over and wrapped her arms around mine as if she belonged there. “Hey, sis. You’re home?” Willa Hayes was my cousin. Eighteen. Freshly accepted to New York University. She had grown up in rural Ohio, where her mother favored her son and punished Willa in silence for years. When Willa came of age, her mother signed permission for me to bring her to New York and care for her. I arranged temporary guardianship. I handled school. I managed medical authorization. I took on the daily weight of living. That was why we’d always called each other sisters. She called me Sis; I treated her like a younger sister instead of an ordinary cousin. “Look. Ethan gave me this.” She held up a designer bag. For all those years, I had never asked him for anything—not once. I never used what he gave me. As if refusing his gifts could prove I was different from all the women circling him. Eventually, he stopped offering. But when it came to giving someone else a present, he never hesitated. Of course. To him, what was the difference between a hundred thousand dollars and a million? And what was the real difference between me and all the rest? “Willa, go back to your room for a minute.” She obeyed, retreating slowly—only after a glance at Ethan Brooks, like she was checking whether the world would keep its shape. “You’re back?” He knew perfectly well I was. I walked in, set the groceries on the island, and let the quiet settle like dust. “It’s just a kid fooling around.” He moved behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. Her sweet, cloying perfume clung to him, completely at odds with mine. I turned my face away from his kiss. He let go. “If I really wanted her, I wouldn’t have to sneak around behind your back.” He soothed people only once—whenever they broke, when they cried, when they asked for something they weren’t supposed to want. If I didn’t take the exit he offered, then any fallout was supposed to land on me instead. I drew a breath that felt borrowed. “I’m asking you for one thing. Don’t touch her.” His expression stayed smooth. He lifted a hand and brushed the hair back from my temple. “You and your supervisor seem to be having a pretty good time.” “Why are you dragging him into this?” “He has you working late every day. Who knows what you’re really doing after hours?” I knocked his hand away. “Ethan Brooks, try being reasonable.” Willa burst out of the bedroom. “Sis, don’t fight with my brother because of me.” One corner of his mouth lifted as he leaned against the cabinets. “See? The kid has better sense than you do.” I pressed my lips together. I took my bag and headed for the door. He caught the strap. “That’s enough. You really think you’re something, don’t you?” “Ethan Brooks, you could find anyone. You chose my sister. She just graduated high school.” He scoffed, eyes lazy. “When you latched onto me, weren’t you about her age?” “She’s a lot prettier than you.” “Why is it fine when you do it—but not when she does?” Willa started crying. She came over helplessly and took my hand. “Sis.” I didn’t want her to hear anything uglier. I’d promised her mother I would take care of her. “Come on. We’ll stay somewhere else.” But Willa didn’t move. She lowered her head and stayed beside Ethan Brooks. “Willa Hayes?” “Sis.” She slipped behind him, her voice small. “You should go. Ethan will take care of me.” I stood there, stunned. She’d been here only half a month—barely more than a handful of meetings with him, and yet she was already learning the shape of the trap. “When your mother favored your brother and beat you, who stood up and took it for you?” Willa looked away, making herself unbearably pitiful. “When you were still a minor, who brought you here, dealt with your school and doctors, paid to get you through high school, and gave everything she had just to help you apply to college?” “You’ve known him for half a month,” I said, voice trembling with disbelief, “and now you’re telling me to leave?” “Willa Hayes, I’ve done so much for you. Do you have any conscience at all?” She tightened her brows. Tears shone in her eyes. “You chose to do all that. I never asked you to. Don’t guilt-trip me.” “And wasn’t your money all from Ethan anyway?” “From him?” I tipped my head back. “Ask him whether I’ve ever taken a cent from him.” “No, you’re too proud.” He laughed—mocking, light. “Then take your pathetic groceries and get out. Why are you still hanging around?” I didn’t dodge. I stared him down. “Ethan Brooks, do you really think I can never leave you?” He lifted one brow. “Can you?” Electric pain surged through me. The floor came up too fast, and I dropped as if my body had been unplugged. His laughter rang in my ears. “Putting on a show now?” 【Host awareness increased. Punishment initiated.】 The system spoke inside my head. I trembled and tried to get up, but my strength vanished into cold, and sweat broke across my skin. Why did I love someone like this? 【He’s rich, powerful, and handsome. He’s the best choice in the world.】 【For someone from your background, meeting him was a once-in-a-lifetime stroke of luck.】 But he treated women like toys. 【So what? He loves you.】 Dazed, I looked up. Beneath his high brow, his eyes were cold—utterly, perfectly without tenderness. He believed I was pretending. I asked the system what I had to do to complete the mission. 【There is no such thing as “completing the mission.”】 【This is a perfect life.】 【He’s only hurting you right now. Eventually he’ll realize he loves you.】 【You’ll be the happiest woman in the world.】 【You have no reason to be upset.】 The next second, darkness swallowed my vision. Just before I passed out, I saw something shift in his eyes—panic, maybe. The first hairline crack in his composure. So this was what “realizing he loved me” looked like. How ridiculous. I’d held on for ten years. For the first time, I wanted to die. Not for him. I wanted to drag the system controlling my body down with me. I was exhausted. 2. When I opened my eyes, I was lying in bed. He slumped on the sofa beside me, his face worn thin by sleeplessness. The moment I moved, he looked up. “You’re awake?” “Ethan Brooks.” I stared at him. The pain from the electric shock burned behind my ribs. Tears spilled the instant I tried to speak. He froze. I almost never allowed myself to look weak. He came over and pulled me into his arms. “There’s nothing between me and her.” “She isn’t my type at all.” His thumb wiped away my tears like it was routine. “I was just angry.” “Why would you rather ask your supervisor for help than come to me?” “Lily Carter,” he said, as if the name itself was the answer. “Am I really that impossible to rely on?” So that was what he cared about. When Willa applied for portfolio tutoring at an art school, my supervisor had found the connection for her. I could have gone to Ethan. A single phone call—nothing more. But I didn’t want to. At the time, I’d been doing everything I could to keep our relationship uncomplicated. Civil. Quiet. Almost harmless. “I can pay him back.” I pulled his hand down. “I can’t pay you back.” “When have I ever refused to help you?” “How long can you keep helping me?” How long would he stay with me? We both knew the truth. I’d never held the power in this relationship. He went silent for a long time. “That’s why you pretended to faint?” I laughed—because something reckless rose in me. A reckless feeling, as if I’d finally stopped asking permission to breathe. “Yes. I want to marry you. Is that too much to ask?” Ethan’s gaze darkened. He had clearly already decided what I meant to him. “I’ve given you everything I can.” “Lily, don’t get greedy.” The door was open a crack. I knew Willa Hayes had been listening. 3. For the next month, Ethan Brooks never came looking for me. Willa moved out, saying she was registering for school and living in the dorms. But I knew Ethan had bought her a high-rise apartment near campus. Then, on my birthday, he called. “What do you want for your birthday?” I was packing. I cleared the last pieces of my life out of the Manhattan penthouse. There really wasn’t much—only two suitcases. My eyes felt empty, but my voice stayed gentle. “I don’t want anything.” “Can you spend the day with me?” Silence on the other end. I heard people talking in the background. He was on a business trip in Europe—the place he’d once promised to take me. “I can’t make it back. Be good and wait until I’m done.” I hung up and kept moving. That night, Willa flew to Europe alone to find him. Ethan was furious—furious she’d acted without thinking, like a disobedient child. But she told him she’d missed him. He let her stay in his hotel. The next day, he canceled every engagement and took her skiing. She’d never skied before. She was fearless in the worst way. Ethan taught her a few basics, and Willa insisted on an advanced run. The accident arrived on schedule. Ethan nearly got hit saving her. Willa reached for him instinctively—caught an edge, and scraped herself badly. She was taken to the hospital. I stood in the hallway of the European hospital near the ski resort when Jason Cole—Ethan’s friend—told me what happened. “Guess what the first thing she said was when she woke up?” I didn’t answer. “She started sobbing. The first thing she said to Ethan was, ‘How could you do that? I was so scared it would be you who got hurt!’” Our reflections hovered in the glass window. “That was the first time I saw Ethan moved by someone.” “What man could resist that?” “Lily,” Jason said, then nodded and left us alone. “You promised me,” I said without looking at him. “You wouldn’t fall for her.” Ethan’s voice was flat. “Do you know the difference between you and her?” “She never says things like that to me.” “She only loves me for who I am.” “Lily, why can’t you be more like her?” He expected me to make a scene. At least, that was what he’d come to believe about me—based on the version of me he used to see. But I didn’t. I only smiled. “So you’re breaking up with me?” “How much do you want?” he asked. I looked up at him. There wasn’t a ripple of emotion in his eyes—like this was just another transaction. “I want a lot. A whole lot of money.” I gave him exactly what he wanted to hear. “Give me everything you own.” His brows finally tightened. At last, I got a reaction. Amusement touched his eyes, then sharpened. “Do you deserve that?” “She was willing to die for me. Would you do the same?” 4. Before we returned to New York, Jason arranged a get-together and invited me. It was at a private Manhattan club. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed Central Park like a painting hung in the dark. Neon lights tangled across the blue-black night. Ethan arrived late. The second he walked in, people stood to greet him—like gravity had shifted. Willa followed at his heels. Her injury had healed in three days. People kept sneaking looks in my direction, but Ethan didn’t glance at me once. The click of poker chips started up again. Willa’s hair fell black to her waist. She barely knew how to play. Ethan smiled and taught her patiently. When he leaned close, one hand rested on the back of her walnut chair—sometimes her hair brushed his knuckles as if it were being guided by fate. “A new favorite?” I was stepping out to breathe on the terrace when I heard women chatting beside the window. “After all these years, he must be tired of her.” “I thought she was clever enough to get a ring by now.” “He used to dote on her. Now he’s doing the same thing with someone else. Maybe he never loved her that much.” I pulled my coat closer and turned. Willa was standing there, innocent as a picture, playing with Ethan’s lighter—wearing the expression of someone who had never been afraid of consequences. “Sis,” she said, smiling as if she were sharing a secret. “Does it bother you that I took him from you?” I went back for my bag. I meant to leave. Jason stepped into my path. “Don’t go. We’re just getting started.” He spoke to me, but his eyes measured Ethan. Ethan glanced lazily at Jason’s hand around my wrist. “There’s no room for her.” “Sure there is.” Jason stood and offered me his chair. “Let’s make it interesting.” His hand still held my wrist. “If I win,” he said, “how about you let me have Lily Carter for the night?” Ethan’s fingers paused. Then, without hesitation, he didn’t refuse. I sat down. Ethan didn’t join the game. Willa remained in his seat. This time, he didn’t teach her anything. He only watched in silence. Of course, I won. But Willa wore the expression of a victor anyway—like she’d been certain all along that her turn would come. Jason picked up his sports-car keys and took me away. We hadn’t even crossed the Brooklyn Bridge when another luxury car forced us to stop. Ethan sat alone inside, eyes empty—patiently waiting for me to step out of another man’s life and into his reach. I didn’t get out. “Leaving in such a hurry?” He opened his car door and tossed a bag at Jason. “She forgot her bag.” I watched him calmly. “Thanks. Anything else?” His gaze shifted to me. Clearly, there was nothing else. I started rolling up the window. He reached in, opened the door, and dragged me out roughly. “Ethan!” A car raced past behind us, drowning half of Jason’s shout. Ethan shot a look at the sound, and Jason fell silent. “You left with your next prospect before you got paid? Is that what I taught you?” He hadn’t finished speaking when screams rose behind us. 【Event triggered.】 The system sounded. In the distance, I saw someone holding a gun. My body moved without permission—stepping in front of Ethan as if it had always been meant to protect him. 【Congratulations, Host. Tragic-romance storyline completed.】 The bullet entered my body. For a moment, I felt almost nothing. The impact knocked me against Ethan. He caught me in a daze. Police sirens wailed around us. Officers sealed off the intersection and told everyone present to stay for questioning. Hospital security logged my injuries, the witnesses, the chaos—under their internal security-incident procedure. The formal shooting report and investigation belonged to the police. Jason shouted my name. Bystanders cried out anxiously. There were so many voices. But his was the only one missing. Ethan simply held me—rooted to the spot—as if the bullet had struck him instead. If he didn’t move, none of it could be real. 5. I didn’t die. After the police completed their scene examination and the shooting report was filed, hospital security recorded my injuries and witness information under the internal security-incident procedure. Only after officers confirmed the area was safe did the doctors take me into surgery. Luckily, the bullet passed through my shoulder. I woke to an argument outside my room. “She pulled a stunt like this to force me to marry her, didn’t she?” Ethan’s voice was low—impossible to read. “What are you talking about?” Jason asked, glaring at him. “What are the odds she just happened to be caught in a shooting?” “Willa just saved my life. Is she playing the same game now?” “Did somebody put that idea in your head?” Jason asked, “Willa Hayes?” “Leave her out of it. She has nothing to do with this.” “You believe that?” Jason stood and pointed toward my room. “She’s lying in there because she saved you—and you’re saying this?” “Why are you so worked up?” Ethan laughed, and there was no concern in it. “I’ll give her to you.” Jason swung his fist into Ethan’s face. Ethan didn’t dodge. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, and he didn’t care. “She wouldn’t die for me.” “I know her too well.” “From the day she met me, she came close with an agenda.” “Marriage? Is that even possible?” The lighter clicked again between his fingers. “She’s just another schemer, same as the rest.” 【Wonderful, Host.】 The mechanical voice invaded my skull. 【When he comes in, he’ll discover that you’re pregnant.】 【He’ll soften and realize how good you are.】 【You’ll be angry for a while, but you’ll forgive him soon!】 【Go welcome your sweet romance!】 Great. Could I have one minute of control over my own body? 【Of course. You’re happy too, aren’t you?】 I got out of bed and opened the hospital-room door. Both men looked toward me. Behind Ethan, the window stood wide open. The hospital building was old, and the rooms still had older windows—ones that could be opened. They were supposed to have limiters and regular security checks. But that window’s limiter had been broken for a long time. The night patrol had missed it. The city glittered far below, twenty-eight floors down. “Ethan Brooks.” I walked toward him. My voice was gentle. “You were right. I am a schemer.” “For ten years, I’ve loved your money and nothing else.” “I could never compete with her.” He frowned and tried to cut me off. “Go lie back down—” I smiled at him. “So you and Willa Hayes can be happy together.” It was only a few steps. Neither man was ready. Under Ethan’s eyes, I climbed onto the sill and jumped from the twenty-eighth floor.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “618641”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Three years into my affair, my marriage was running smoother than it ever had. When I wasn’t home, my wife never checked in on me. I could leave my phone on the kitchen counter, and she wouldn’t glance at it. If I came in late, she even left the porch light on. My friends were genuinely envious. “Man, your wife is so low-maintenance.” I thought so too. She knew about the woman on the side. I knew that she knew. Neither of us ever said a word about it. I honestly believed this was the most comfortable equilibrium a mature marriage could reach. Until one morning, when she slid a divorce agreement right beneath my coffee mug. “The house and custody go to you. I’m walking away with nothing.” I couldn’t help the smirk that crept onto my face. “Because of her?” Lily shook her head. “This has nothing to do with her.” “It’s just that recently, I met someone I really like too.” In that split second, the coffee in my hand turned to lead. 01 My very first reaction wasn’t anger. It was relief. A bizarre, weightless feeling of finally no longer being indebted to her. For three years, Lily had never picked a fight with me. But sometimes, just having her ladle a bowl of soup for me made my skin prickle with guilt. I would have to take it, swallow a few sips, and scramble for some compliment to pay her. Otherwise, I looked like an absolute bastard. Now, though, the playing field was level. Neither of us was clean. Neither of us had to keep up the saintly act. I moved the coffee mug aside, slid the papers out, and before even flipping through them, I chuckled. “You should’ve told me sooner.” Lily was at the island, pressing a fresh label onto Henry’s water bottle. The old label had curled at the edges from too many runs through the dishwasher. She peeled it off and smoothed down a crisp new one. I went on, “I’m not mocking you. We’ve been married eleven years. We know each other inside out. Honestly, I’m glad you’re being straight with me. There were plenty of things we couldn’t say before. Now we can actually talk.” She slipped the bottle into the side pocket of his backpack. “What do you want to talk about?” Her calm made me relax even more. At least she wasn’t crying, and she wasn’t pointing a finger in my face to drag up old dirt. I leaned in a little closer. “At our age, finding someone you actually connect with isn’t easy. I get it. And you get me. There’s no reason to blow up our home over this.” By the time the words left my mouth, I had already convinced myself this wasn’t a bad thing. When I was the only one with someone outside, I carried a quiet deficit toward this household. Now that we both had our own outlets, we could still come home, co-parent our son, share peaceful dinners. Wouldn’t that be far fairer? Lily finally set the backpack down. “Read the agreement first.” “What’s there to read? I heard what you said, and I didn’t lose my temper. My point is, since we’re both—” “I know what your point is,” she cut in. “I just don’t want to live like this anymore. Look it over, see what needs adjusting, and then we’ll talk.” She turned the document to the final page. Her signature was already inked neatly on the line. Next to it was today’s date. That was when I noticed she had even left a pen beside the stack. This wasn’t a sudden whim. From the moment I woke up, brushed my teeth, and sat down at the table, I had assumed today was identical to every other ordinary morning. She, however, had known all along what was supposed to happen the second I finished this cup of coffee. An uneasy itch began creeping up my throat. Not because of the other man. At least, not yet. “What about our son?” “Henry stays with you.” “I see that on the paper. What I’m asking is, have you thought about how you’re going to break it to him? You just write down ‘stays with the father’ and figure your job is done?” Lily slid another sheet across the marble. “I’ll wire fixed child support on the first of every month. Any major medical or extracurricular expenses, we split after discussing. Visitation hours are outlined right there. You can check.” I didn’t touch it. Those clean, clinical arrangements grated on my nerves. We were talking about our family, yet she had dismantled every thread of our shared life into discrete, itemized line items. I pulled out my phone, intending to text my assistant to push back my morning meetings. Right then, a banner popped up from Sabrina. You awake yet? Picked up breakfast for you. Don’t go drinking coffee on an empty stomach again. Instinctively, I flipped my phone face down. Lily saw it. She didn’t utter a word. My face, however, flared hot. Here I was, lecturing her on mutual understanding, yet I didn’t even have the nerve to let her see a simple morning text. 02 Henry padded out of his bedroom, his navy school uniform jacket draped over one forearm. “Mom, Mrs. Gable posted on the parent portal again. She needs that family activity photo uploaded today.” Lily told him gently, “The photos are on your dad’s phone. From now on, take school reminders directly to your dad.” Henry was chewing on a piece of toast. Hearing that, his face crumpled. “Why Dad again? He always forgets everything. Like the school field day—everyone else had picnic blankets and lawn chairs, and I was the only one sitting on the grass.” Irritated, I snapped a napkin from the holder and tossed it toward him. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.” As soon as the words slipped out, I felt petty. I hadn’t forgotten the blanket on purpose. Lily had been out of town on a three-day business trip back then. She had emailed me the packing checklist, and I had forwarded it to my assistant to order everything. My assistant missed a line. When Lily came back, she had quietly handled the fallout, and I never gave it another thought. Hearing my son hold it against me now, my knee-jerk reaction was to offer Lily an excuse. Instead, she walked over to the entryway and pulled her shoes from the rack. Suddenly, I looked at Henry. “If Mom and Dad didn’t live under the same roof anymore, who would you want to live with?” Lily’s fingers paused on her laces. Henry glanced at her, then back at me. “Are you guys fighting?” “No. Dad’s just asking.” He made his choice in a heartbeat, without the slightest hesitation. “With Dad. Dad lets me play on the console, and Mom’s always saying I can’t have fried chicken for dinner.” Those words couldn’t have been easy for Lily to hear. Yet she didn’t look wounded, nor did she press him on whether he meant it. She tied her sneakers and reminded him to finish his breakfast. Henry seemed to sense he had said the wrong thing. He held his half-eaten toast, timidly offering, “Mom can still come visit me, right?” I stared at Lily. “You hear that?” She unclipped her house key from her ring and laid it flat on the entry console. “I heard him. So don’t ask him a second time.” I stood up. “If you’ve got an issue, take it out on me. Don’t be spiteful to a kid. How old is he? What does he understand?” “You’re the one who asked him first.” Her retort backed me into a corner. I hadn’t weaponized the boy on purpose. I simply wanted her to grasp that a divorce wasn’t something resolved by two signatures on a piece of paper. Henry still had years of school ahead of him. Middle school was around the corner. Should we move closer to the district? Which school program should he enroll in? Did any of that not require her? Yet as those arguments gathered on the tip of my tongue, I realized they all sounded like admissions of helplessness—like proof that the moment she walked out, I wouldn’t be able to keep our life afloat. I shifted tactics. “You have to give me some time. Everything was fine yesterday, and today you drop divorce papers on me. Who processes that overnight?” Lily replied evenly, “Take your time with the agreement. I’m moving out next Monday.” She pulled the front door open and called for Henry. As our son swung his backpack over his shoulders, he remembered something, darted back, and caught my arm, his eyes wide with hope. “Dad, can you drop me off today?” I checked my watch. Eight-twenty. Driving him to school and heading into downtown would guarantee I missed the start of the executive sync. “Let Mom take you today. Dad has work.” Henry’s lower lip immediately pushed out into a pout. Lily didn’t jump in, nor did she smooth things over for me the way she used to. She merely stood outside the threshold, waiting. A sudden wave of irritation flared in my chest. I snatched my car keys off the tray. “Fine. I’ll drive.” In the elevator, Henry was still buzzing because I had agreed to drive him, asking if we could swing by GameStop tonight for a new cartridge. I said yes. When the elevator hit the ground floor, Lily stepped out without glancing back to remind me not to make empty promises. She always used to do that. Back then, I thought she took a child far too seriously. Now that she had let go, I felt like a man who had made a fool of himself in front of an audience of one. 03 By the time I pulled into the office parking garage after dropping Henry off, the meeting had already started. I slipped into the conference room several minutes late. When the meeting wrapped up, Sabrina was already waiting in my office. She had laid out artisan pastries and cold brew on the coffee table. The moment I walked in, she pouted about why I hadn’t answered her texts. “Lily wants a divorce.” Her hands froze as she set down the coffee cup. It took her several seconds to lower it completely to the table. “She found out? Did your parents say something to her? Or did someone drag our business into her face—” “She’s known all along. But that’s not why. She said she met someone she likes.” The office went dead silent. I had no idea what was running through Sabrina’s mind, but my own thoughts spiraled backward. When had Lily first known about Sabrina and me? Was it those long weekends when I claimed to be on out-of-town client trips? Or had Sabrina left an earring or a lip gloss in my car? Sabrina’s sharp laugh broke my trance. “And you actually believe her?” I was wondering whether I should. On the drive from Henry’s school to the office, Lily’s expression had replayed in my head like a loop of film. She hadn’t looked like she was trying to get a rise out of me. Yet if she wasn’t just trying to hurt me, why surrender the house? Our place in the suburbs was worth easily a million and a half. And this was a woman who routinely waited for seasonal sales just to buy running shoes. I unlocked my phone, opened the photo I had snapped of the agreement, and scanned the asset division clause again. Sabrina leaned over my shoulder, skimming the screen. “That proves it. When a woman claims she doesn’t want a dime, nine times out of ten she’s holding out for a bigger payout.” She sounded entirely confident. I used to love that about her. Whenever a problem arose, Lily would weigh every practical constraint, while Sabrina delivered swift, effortless conclusions that took the burden off my shoulders. I dialed Lily’s number and hit speakerphone. I wanted a third party in the room. When it had just been Lily and me this morning, I kept feeling as though she was pulling all the strings. The line clicked open, and I kept my tone as neutral as possible. “The asset division in the contract—I don’t agree to it. We can put the house on the market and split the equity down the middle. Whatever you’re legally entitled to, I’m not shortchanging you.” Sabrina touched my forearm from behind, but I brushed her off. Over the receiver came the rhythmic whir of an office laser printer. Lily was clearly already at her firm. “Fine. Have your lawyer draft the amendment and send it over.” The rebuttal I had rehearsed died in my throat. I switched off the speakerphone and stepped toward the floor-to-ceiling glass. “You’re not even going to ask why I’m willing to give you half?” “It’s marital property. It’s not a gift from you.” My blood simmered. “Fine. Let’s set the money aside for a second. Who is this guy? What does he do? Does he even know you’re married with an eight-year-old?” She didn’t answer right away. I seized the opening, pouring out the arguments I had polished during my commute. “I’m not against you seeing people, but you can’t mistake a guy being sweet to you for a couple of weeks for the real world. A man sleeping with you or entertaining you on weekends is entirely different from a man willing to build a life with you. Especially when you have Henry.” “Henry is staying with you.” That line again. It felt like she was lying in wait for me to bring up our son. I swallowed my temper. “So because he doesn’t want a kid, you just throw Henry away? Lily, you were never this selfish.” “Leaving Henry with you was my decision. Don’t pin it on anyone else.” I still couldn’t let it go. “Does he have kids of his own? Has he ever raised one? Of course he treats you like a queen when he doesn’t have to carry a single ounce of real responsibility.” Lily’s reply was clipped and steady. “He’s divorced. No children. And Sean, even if I hadn’t met him, I was never going to continue raising Henry alone.” That was the first time she had offered any detail about him. I thought knowing something would take the edge off. It did the exact opposite. He had his own history, his own independent life, and now he was stepping in to take my wife. The humiliation dug deep. “What’s his name?” I demanded. “Lucas Hayes.” I rolled the name over in my head. A total blank. Not a corporate client I entertained, not a colleague she had ever mentioned, not someone in our mutual social circle. A stranger stung worse than an acquaintance. Where the hell had she met him? What did they talk about late at night? Every evening when I came home to find her sitting on the sectional, had his name been glowing on her phone screen all along? “How far have you two gone?” My fingers tightened around the phone until my knuckles ached. Minutes ago, I had told myself that if she was guilty too, my conscience would be cleared. Yet now that we were on the brink of the answer, I terrified myself by realizing I couldn’t bear to hear it. I wanted her to admit fault. I also couldn’t stomach the reality of her actually having crossed the line. Lily didn’t answer. In the background, someone called her name, saying the project prints were ready. She answered them, and when she spoke into the receiver again, her voice sounded distant. “I have a project meeting. Monday’s move-out stands. If you have time tonight, we can finalize the logistics for Henry.” The line went dead. Sabrina walked over and asked how it went. I didn’t answer. She handed me the cold brew, her tone noticeably lighter than before. “Honestly, this is great. If she’s seeing someone else, you don’t have to carry that ridiculous guilt around anymore. We can finally—” “Go back to your desk.” The smile vanished from her face. I knew it was harsh. In the past, I would have softened it by promising dinner later. Right now, I didn’t have the bandwidth. I opened my text history with Lily. Three months ago, while I was traveling on business, she had asked if I could fly home a day early. I texted back that work was tied up, and she replied with a simple, Okay. Right after that, she had sent a screenshot of a medical lab report. I had never replied. Scrolling down, last week she had mentioned she was busy on Saturday and asked me to take Henry in for his booster shot. I had agreed, then spontaneously booked a luxury boutique resort an hour outside the city with Sabrina for two nights. In the past, the thing I prized most about Lily was that she never audited my calendar. Now, staring at those cold lines of text, a sudden, burning question consumed me: every time I had stayed out, where the hell had she gone? I buzzed my assistant on the intercom. “Clear my afternoon calendar.” Sabrina was still hovering by the doorway. “Are you going to see her?” I dug my spare house key out of the desk drawer and grabbed my jacket. “I’m going home.” 04 I went home looking for evidence. A movie stub, an unfamiliar coffee mug, a man’s sweater left behind. If I found just one thing, I could shove the agreement back in her face and demand an explanation before we ever spoke of divorce. I knew it was pathetic. Yet during our conversation this morning, she had been far too composed. She was ready to walk out, ready to leave our son with me, ready to take an equitable split without a fight. I desperately needed to prove that she wasn’t standing on moral high ground. In the closet, half of her hangers were bare. In her nightstand drawer, there was only a residential lease agreement and two health screening summaries. The lease commenced last month. I snapped a picture of the address, then moved to the dresser. Her wedding band sat inside the velvet jewelry box, right beside the tiny hospital wristband Henry had worn when he was born. She hadn’t touched either of them. A sudden dread paralyzed me. Finding another man’s traces would tear me apart. Finding nothing would be worse. Because finding nothing meant she wasn’t leaving for another man. She simply couldn’t stand being in this house with me for one more day. That afternoon, I drove to the address on the lease. When Lily opened the door, there was no surprise in her eyes. The apartment was modest—a single bedroom, a living area dominated by a large drafting table covered in architectural elevations. On the windowsill sat a newly potted white jasmine plant. I used to complain that her houseplants cluttered our sunroom. Here, without a single trace of my belongings, her world looked strangely whole. “Where’s Lucas?” “He doesn’t live here.” I walked past her into the bedroom. A twin bed sat against the wall. The tight coil in my gut loosened a fraction. Lily didn’t block my path. She merely said, “When you’re done looking, please leave. If you need to come by in the future, give me advance notice.” That sentence reignited my fury. “You already rented a place behind my back, and you expect me not to ask questions? How long has this been going on?” “We met working on a project last fall. We started seeing each other privately in February.” It was May. I counted backward and immediately remembered February—the weekend she had asked if I could fly home early. “That hospital visit—” “A follow-up ultrasound for a breast nodule. The clinic required an accompanying adult. He drove me.” I lunged for that explanation like a lifeline. A woman feels vulnerable, her husband isn’t around, another man happens to step in. That was how these things happened. It didn’t necessarily mean deep affection; it was just a moment of gratitude, a temporary lapse of judgment. A sudden, generous wave of magnanimity washed over me. “The test was fine, right?” “Benign. I sent you the report.” I remembered the screenshot I had swiped away. “I was swamped that day. If you really needed me, you could have called a second time. Would I have ignored you?” Lily rolled up the blueprint on the table and slid it into a cardboard tube. “I did call you. You answered and said you were in a meeting, telling me not to make a mountain out of a molehill.” That weekend, I had been at a hillside spa resort. Sabrina had been lounging beside me in a plush terrycloth robe, browsing room service menus. When Lily’s call came in, Sabrina saw the caller ID, stayed silent, and rested her bare feet on my knees. I answered, listening to Lily say the imaging center wanted an immediate follow-up and suggested family accompany her. Sabrina flashed her phone screen at me, asking whether I preferred the French toast or the smoked salmon platter. I pointed to the salmon and spoke into the receiver: “I’m in a conference. Go get it checked, and let me know what the doctor says when you get home.” Lily hadn’t hung up right away. “Sean, I’m a little scared.” I remembered feeling a momentary pang back then. But Sabrina had already leaned in, wrapping her arms around my waist, waiting for me to disconnect. The spa getaway had been booked two weeks in advance. I had fought hard to carve out the weekend, driving three hours into wine country. Turning the car around then would have ruined the entire trip. Besides, checkups were rarely anything serious. So I had reassured Lily: “Don’t psych yourself out. If there’s an issue, the specialist will flag it. Hang up for now, I’ve got people waiting on me.” She had whispered, Okay. After I hung up, Sabrina asked if I had to head back. I muted the phone, set it on the nightstand, and pulled her in. “I’m not going anywhere. I promised you this weekend.” She smiled, leaning up to kiss my neck. Holding her, I had experienced a brief, passing discomfort. But that discomfort dissolved in minutes. The follow-up report Lily texted me later remained unread until we checked out on Sunday. By then, Sabrina was asking the front desk attendant to take our picture on the veranda. I swiped the notification away, stepped beside her, and slipped my arm around her waist. Now, standing in Lily’s bare apartment, I didn’t offer another excuse. I knew I had no ground to stand on. Yet after a long silence, the ugly question tore past my lips anyway. “Did you sleep with him?” Lily looked right into my eyes. “No. We kissed.” The words landed like a fist to the solar plexus. Whatever magnanimity I had scraped together vanished instantly. My mind locked onto those two words. I wanted to scream at her, but I knew I had zero standing. That lack of standing infuriated me more than picturing them together. I let out a bitter sneer. “Then you’re not exactly morally superior to me, are you?” “No,” she said evenly. “Starting something new before formally ending my marriage was wrong. I made a mistake.” She owned it. No excuses about loneliness, no attempt to use my three years of cheating as an offset. Yet her confession didn’t bring me the slightest relief. It left me even more raw. Because she added: “But staying with you? That, I can’t do.” That afternoon, I finally realized I had never wanted a fair playing field. If she admitted to being wrong, what I really wanted was for her mistake to be so filthy, so unforgivable, that shame would force her to stay by my side.

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1 I own a Polaroid camera. It has a strange power: it can capture a photo of whoever a person will be with ten years in the future. Teddy and I grew up together. We were classic childhood sweethearts. Ever since he learned to speak, he insisted he was going to marry me. At six years old, he stuffed all his allowance into my hands. “Val, my dad says a man has to give all his money to the girl he loves.” At sixteen, he stayed up all night compiling a complete set of math study guides for me. “Valerie, as your future partner, your math grades are my responsibility!” At eighteen, clutching a crumpled love letter, he confessed his feelings to me. “Val, I love you. I want to protect you for the rest of my life.” I smiled, took his letter, and we officially became a couple. From then until now, it has been exactly twenty-five years. Over our time together, I took fifteen Polaroid photos of him. In every single one of those fifteen developed prints, the person standing right beside him was me. In our seventh year of dating, while he was peeling shrimp for me at lunch, I snapped another photo on a whim. As the image slowly bled onto the white paper, my chest went cold. This time, the person standing next to him had changed. … I stared at the photograph, my mind completely blank. In all these years, across sixteen photos, this was the first time a third person had ever appeared. My fingers trembled as I crumpled the edge of the print, keeping it tightly hidden in my palm. I turned to look at Teddy. He was busy mixing my dipping sauce: two squeezed key limes, two spoonfuls of soy sauce, a dash of vinegar, and a pinch of sugar. He knew my exact taste. “Here, Val. Time to eat.” Teddy opened a pack of disposable gloves and gently pulled them onto my hands. Then, he adjusted a cushion behind my back to make sure I was sitting comfortably. Once he finished, he turned back to the counter to mix another bowl: one lime, two spoonfuls of chili oil, a heavy splash of vinegar, and a spoonful of minced garlic. I froze. Neither Teddy nor I liked spicy food. But my friend, Gemma, did. No wonder he had prepared such a massive portion of shrimp today. He had planned for her all along. He divided the peeled shrimp into two separate bowls: one for me, and one for her. I couldn’t recall when it had started, but lately, whenever Teddy got something for me, he would naturally get a duplicate for Gemma. Snacks, plushies, scarves, bracelets; it was always the same. “Val, I’m going to run out for a bit to drop these off for Gemma,” Teddy said. My hands stilled. “Right now? Why don’t you have lunch first?” “I can’t,” he replied without hesitation, picking up the insulated bag and heading for the door. “Gemma likes them hot. If I eat first, they’ll be cold by the time I get there. Go ahead and eat without me, I’ll be right back.” The door clicked shut. I sat in silence. Teddy had never said “I can’t” to me before. Since we were kids, he had always listened to me. Our friends used to tease him about being completely whipped, but he would just puff out his chest and laugh. “What do you guys know? Listening to your girl is the key to a happy life. Loving her is how a man succeeds!” But now, for Gemma, he had pushed back against me for the first time. The steam rose from the shrimp, the very meal I had begged for yesterday, but my appetite was completely gone. A sharp cramp bloomed in my abdomen. I pulled off the plastic gloves and curled up on the sofa. My phone buzzed. I unlocked it to see Gemma’s latest social media update. “Thanks to Teddy for the personal delivery service. You saved a starving girl today.” The post was barely a minute old, yet Teddy had already liked it and left a comment: “An absolute honor to be of service, Gem.” Tris. Gem. When had they become so familiar with each other? A wave of dread washed over me. I pulled the newly developed Polaroid from my pocket. On the paper, Teddy and Gemma were standing close, their shoulders pressed together, both wearing radiant, happy smiles. That afternoon, we had planned to go to the mall. Teddy’s car was idling at the curb. I opened the passenger door, only to find him looking over his shoulder toward the back seat, a bright smile on his face. Gemma was sitting in the back. Sensing my presence, they both looked up. “Val! You’re finally here,” Gemma said, leaning over my seat. I nodded quietly, my eyes falling on the new lavender lumbar support cushion resting behind her back. Purple was Gemma’s lucky color. “Is that new?” I asked. Teddy glanced at the cushion. “Yeah, Gemma mentioned her back was hurting last week, so I picked one up for her.” Gemma beamed. “Val, your boyfriend is incredibly thoughtful. I’m so jealous.” Teddy grinned. “Don’t be. Go find yourself a guy.” “Fine,” Gemma teased, leaning closer to his shoulder. “But you have to help me look. He has to be exactly like you.” They kept up a lively banter, and I found myself unable to utter a single word. The GPS indicated a left turn was coming up, but Teddy kept driving straight. “Teddy,” I spoke up. “You missed the turn.” They were too deep in conversation to hear me. I bit my lip and raised my voice. “Teddy!” The cabin went quiet. Teddy glanced at me. “Val? What’s wrong?” “You missed the turn.” He glanced down at the navigation screen. “Oh, I wasn’t paying attention.” “You’ve driven this road a thousand times and you still missed it? You’re hopeless, Teddy,” Gemma laughed. “Well, if you hadn’t been distracting me, I wouldn’t have missed it,” Teddy grumbled playfully, though his eyes remained warm. “Keep it down back there. Learn from Val, she never distracts me while I’m driving.” I felt a sudden pang in my chest. My mind drifted back to a summer afternoon years ago, right after Teddy got his driver’s license. He had taken me out for a drive, meticulously checking and tightening my seatbelt several times before starting the engine. Back then, he had looked at me with absolute seriousness. “Val, your safety is my top priority. Don’t talk to me while I’m driving. I can’t afford to get distracted.” Yet now, he chatted with Gemma without a second thought, completely forgetting his own rule, and completely forgetting my safety. As they started bickering again, a wave of nausea hit me. When we parked at the grocery store, Gemma looped her arm through mine as we walked inside. Teddy and I had a routine of doing weekly meal prep, stocking up on groceries every Sunday. Since it was the weekend, the store was packed. I crouched down near the seafood counter to pick out some fish. The water-filled plastic bags were heavy, and I struggled to lift them. I turned around to ask Teddy for help, but both he and Gemma had vanished. Clutching the heavy bags, I scanned the crowded aisles. I finally spotted them in the produce section. Gemma was holding two different types of chili peppers, and Teddy was standing beside her, actively searching his phone to see which one would go better with rice. A man who was highly sensitive to spicy food, my boyfriend, was standing there researching hot peppers for another woman, trying to figure out how to cook them to her liking. My fingers went numb. The sharp pain in my stomach returned, stronger this time, making my vision blur. The heavy bags slipped from my hands, hitting the floor with a dull thud. The noise made them turn around, and they both rushed to my side. “Val! What’s wrong?” “Val, you look incredibly pale.” Teddy lifted me into his arms and carried me back to the car. He poured a cup of warm water from his flask and held it to my lips. Gemma looked frantic. “Is it your period? I get awful cramps during mine, and I look exactly like she does right now.” “No, her cycle isn’t until the end of the month,” Teddy replied automatically, before turning back to comfort her. “It was probably those raw oysters she wanted last night. It’s just a stomach bug.” He paused, looking at Gemma. “Do your periods usually hurt that much? Let me know if you need me to bring you anything next time.” Gemma smiled softly. “Thanks, Teddy.” When we got home, Teddy found some medication and made me take it. Then, he boiled some warm apple cider and brought a mug to my bedside. Suddenly, his phone buzzed. It was a message from Gemma. He set the mug down, glanced at the screen, and immediately walked toward the entryway to put on his shoes. “Are you going out?” I asked. “Yeah,” he said, grabbing his keys. “Gemma’s period just started, and she asked me to drop some things off for her. Drink the cider while it’s warm, Val. I’ll be right back.” As his hand touched the doorknob, I called out to him. “Teddy.” “My stomach is really hurting. Can you please stay?” He hesitated for a second. “Val, she lives alone. She has no one else to rely on. Be good, okay? I’ll be right back.” She has no one to rely on, so you have to be her anchor. What about me? The pain in my abdomen flared again. I bit my lip, forcing the words out. “It takes over half an hour to drive to her place. A delivery service would get there faster than you. Teddy, are you just dropping things off, or do you just want to be with her?” Teddy’s brows drew together, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “Val, why are you being like this? You were the one who told me she was going through a hard time after her parents’ divorce, and that I should look out for her. I’m just trying to be helpful. Can you please be a bit more reasonable and stop picking fights over nothing?” The blood in my veins seemed to turn to ice. For twenty-five years, he had promised me: “Valerie, whenever you need me, I’ll be there.” Yet now, when I begged him to stay, he told me to be reasonable. The front door slammed shut. He was gone. I grabbed my Polaroid camera and ran out after him. Teddy was already halfway down the stairs, his footsteps hurried. I stood in the dim stairwell, aimed the camera at his retreating back, and pressed the shutter. The sharp click felt like the sound of something breaking inside me. The camera spat out a blank white print. I clutched it tightly, waiting like a prisoner awaiting a final verdict, even though I already knew the answer. Suddenly, I felt a warm rush of fluid between my thighs. I reached down and pulled my hand back. It was covered in blood. My vision darkened, and the world faded into a blur of distant sirens, voices, and footsteps. When my consciousness finally returned, I was lying in a hospital bed. “You’re awake,” the attending doctor said, handing me an ultrasound report. Six weeks pregnant. Threatened miscarriage. I stared at the words, utterly stunned. “The situation doesn’t look great. Your levels are incredibly low,” the doctor explained gently. “Do you want to try and save the pregnancy? You should discuss it with your partner.” I gathered my strength, picked up my phone, and called Teddy. Three consecutive calls went unanswered. I sent him a text. No reply. With no other choice, I dialed Gemma’s number. After a few rings, she picked up. “Val? Hey, is everything okay?” “Gemma, is Teddy with you?” “Yeah, he is.” “Can you tell him—” Before I could finish, Teddy’s voice drifted through the receiver, warm and familiar. “Gem, I added a bit of ginger to the brown sugar tea. It’s better for your stomach. Drink it while it’s hot.” That tender, protective tone was once reserved entirely for me. He had been too busy to answer my calls because he was standing over a stove, making tea for another woman. A heavy weight settled in my chest. I hung up the phone and looked at the doctor. “Don’t save it. Please help me with the discharge papers.” It was three in the morning by the time I made it back to the apartment. Teddy wasn’t home. I checked my phone. No missed calls. Just a single text message from him sent at ten-thirty last night. “Let’s talk when I get home. Gemma is in a lot of pain, so I’m going to stay with her for a bit.” A bit had turned into the entire night. On our living room sofa sat three cushions, each representing our lucky colors. Teddy’s cushion sat right in the middle, wedged between mine and Gemma’s. It was the perfect metaphor for our relationship. I stood in the entryway, looking around the apartment. Suddenly, I noticed that almost everything in our home had accumulated in threes. Three pairs of slippers in the hallway, three towels in the bathroom, three toothbrushes by the sink, three mugs on the table. Even when he bought matching pajamas, he bought an extra set for her. It was as if he had already prepared this home for her arrival, in the very space where he had promised to love me forever. I felt a profound sense of exhaustion. I walked into the closet, pulled out my suitcase, and began to pack. A few seasonal clothes, some daily essentials, my camera, and my laptop. The rest of my belongings, I arranged to be shipped back to my parents’ house. As I reached down to zip the bag, a Polaroid print fell from my coat pocket, landing face-down on the floor. It was the photo I had taken of Teddy’s back last night. By now, the image would have fully developed. But I didn’t care about the verdict anymore. I left my keys on the counter, pulled my suitcase behind me, and walked out of the apartment. As the cab sped toward the airport, memories of Teddy flashed through my mind: the boy who had handed me his pocket money, the teenager who had stayed up to help me study, the young man who had promised me his forever. He had spent eighteen years getting close to me, seven years loving me, and a single night letting me go. At the terminal, I booked a flight to Monterey. A distance of thousands of miles would be enough to cut the ties of our past. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Teddy. “Val, I bought those cinnamon rolls you like from the bakery. They’re in the warming drawer. Make sure to eat them when you wake up.” He had gone back to the apartment. But he hadn’t even bother to check the bedroom. He had no idea I was gone. The boarding announcement echoed through the terminal. I turned off my phone, stepped onto the jet bridge, and left everything behind.

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1 After my brother-in-law died in a tragic car accident, my twin sister lost her mind. In her grief and confusion, she mistook my boyfriend for her late husband. My boyfriend, Simon, a leading trauma specialist, explained that she was experiencing a severe case of post-traumatic emotional transference. To help her heal as quickly as possible, he agreed to play the role of her fiancé. I, on the other hand, was pushed into the shadows, forced to become his secret, hidden girlfriend. At family dinners, no matter how intimate they behaved, I had to look away and pretend it didn’t hurt. My parents constantly reassured me: “Simon is the best trauma therapist in the state. He’s only doing this for her professional treatment. Don’t let your mind wander, Phoebe.” My older brother, Owen, would pull me away again and again. “The experts say that during these sessions, the fewer family members around, the better.” Until the day I went to Simon’s clinic to drop off some files. I happened to catch sight of my sister’s psychological evaluation report on the desk: Patient’s mental state and memory have fully recovered. No further treatment required. The date on the document was from three months ago. Clutching the paper with trembling hands, I turned to ask Simon about it, only to hear Hailey’s voice coming from inside his office. “Is it really fair for us to treat Phoebe this way?” My hand froze on the doorknob. Then came Simon’s casual, indifferent reply: “Even her parents are helping us hide it. She’ll never find out.” “Besides, she is too dependent on me. I won’t bring up a breakup. Keeping her around is my way of compensating her.” So the treatment was nothing but a grand lie, a collective excuse cooked up by my own family to keep me quiet and compliant. If that was the case, this shadow of a relationship, which would never see the light of day, was no longer worth waiting for. I walked back to the reception desk and handed the files to Sarah, the receptionist. Just as I turned to leave, the office door clicked open. Hailey emerged, her arm looped through Simon’s. Simon looked down at her and murmured something incredibly tender. Hailey giggled, blushing as she stood on her tiptoes to press a soft kiss against his cheek. I froze in the hallway. Simon had never allowed me to show any affection at his clinic. Even before Hailey’s accident, PDA was strictly forbidden. I had argued with him about it once, but he had dismissed my feelings entirely. “I’m a specialist, Phoebe, not a clerk. My patients are dealing with severe trauma and are constantly on the verge of collapsing. If they see me fooling around with my girlfriend in the office, they will question my professionalism.” Fearing I would jeopardize his career, I had never brought it up again. When Simon noticed me, his expression hardened for a fraction of a second before quickly returning to a neutral mask. “Phoebe? What are you doing here?” I remained silent. Sensing the tension, Sarah quickly intervened to clear the air. “Phoebe was just dropping off some paperwork, Doctor.” Simon nodded curtly. He guided Hailey past me, without offering me so much as a second glance. At the curb, a car was already waiting. Simon slipped his coat over Hailey’s shoulders, opened the door, and carefully shielded her head as she climbed into the passenger seat. “It’s chilly outside. I ordered you some warm ginger tea, make sure to drink it when you get home.” Hailey nodded obediently, her face flushed as she cast a cautious, fleeting glance in my direction. “Is Phoebe in a bad mood?” she whispered. Simon didn’t bother turning back to look at me. “Don’t worry about her. She’s just being difficult.” He leaned closer to whisper something in her ear. From my angle, they looked as though they were locked in a deep kiss. Just last week, I had been shivering with a 104-degree fever. When I called him, he had snapped at me over the phone. “Hailey is having a panic attack, I can’t leave her. You’re an adult, Phoebe, go to the hospital yourself. Stop causing drama when I’m trying to work.” He couldn’t care less about my burning fever, yet he knew Hailey’s cycle down to the exact day. As the car pulled away, Hailey waved through the window. “Bye, Simon!” Simon stood on the pavement, watching the car until it disappeared from view. When he finally turned around and saw me still standing there, his brow furrowed with irritation. “Why are you still standing here? Don’t you have work today?” “Simon,” I said, my voice quiet. “I need to ask you something.” He brushed past me, heading straight toward two waiting patients. “I’m not as free as you are. We’ll talk later, I have patients to see.” I had heard that exact phrase more times than I could count. “Oh, by the way,” he added, pausing at the door. “I’ll be taking Hailey to Key West for the next few days for a meditation retreat.” I stared at him, stunned. We had been together for five years, and we had never taken a single vacation. On our last anniversary, I had booked flights and a hotel, hoping to rekindle the romance between us. But he had looked at me with a cold, disgusted expression. “Your sister is suffering, and all you can think about is having fun?” he had sneered. “You love to boast so much, there’s no way you wouldn’t post about it on social media. If Hailey sees it and relapses, can you take responsibility for that?” I wanted to tell him that I had never been one to boast. I only wanted to hold my boyfriend’s hand in public, to feel like a normal couple. But even that had become a luxury. I looked at Simon, a tiny, foolish shred of hope still lingering in my chest. “I’ve never been to Key West. I want to come with you guys.” He looked at me, his gaze freezing cold. “Why would you come and mess things up? Do you want to trigger your sister? I am going there to work, Phoebe, not for a vacation.” With that, he ushered his patients into his office, leaving me alone in the lobby under the curious stares of the reception staff. I walked over to Sarah and asked to see the itinerary for the trip. On the list of travelers, my parents’ and Owen’s names were clearly written. Everyone was going except me. Tears finally spilled over, washing away the very last of my hope. After leaving the clinic, I called an old college classmate. “Lauren, is that international project of yours still looking for people?” When I arrived at my parents’ house, my mother was in the kitchen preparing dinner. Seeing me walk in, she gestured for me to come over. “Taste this, Phoebe.” I took a small sip of the broth and forced a smile. “It’s perfect, Mom.” My mother immediately took the spoon back and covered the pot. “Good. Don’t drink any more of it, I made this specifically for your sister.” I looked around the kitchen. The counters were covered in premium supplements and gourmet ingredients, but none of them were for me. My only welcome was a half-empty glass of cold water on the dining table. My mother kept bustling around, murmuring to herself. “Hailey is doing so much better lately, all thanks to Simon. He’s taking her on a trip to clear her mind. He really is such a responsible man.” I didn’t say a word. His sense of responsibility was reserved entirely for Hailey. Owen came downstairs, and seeing the printed itinerary in my hand, he snatched it away. “How did you get this?” I looked at him calmly. “How long were you planning on keeping this from me? Were you going to tell me right before you boarded the flight tomorrow?” Owen looked slightly uncomfortable. “It’s Hailey’s first long trip. She needs the whole family there to feel safe.” “Am I not part of this family?” Hearing the noise, my father stepped out of his study, his face dark with disapproval. “What kind of attitude is that? We are all family here. Your sister has suffered so much, it’s only natural that we give her extra care. Can’t you be a little more mature, Phoebe?” I let out a bitter laugh. “Does my happiness not matter at all?” My mother slammed her spoon down, the ceramic clattering sharply against the counter. “You are healthy, you have a good job, and you have a boyfriend as devoted as Simon. What more do you want? Your sister’s life is hanging by a thread, and her recovery depends entirely on Simon. Are you only going to be satisfied when she is driven to suicide?” I opened my mouth, but I found I didn’t even have the strength to argue anymore. That evening, Hailey posted a photo on her social media, tagging a high-end restaurant. She was surrounded by gifts, with our parents and Simon crowding around her, making her look like a beloved princess. Her caption read: “Another birthday, and you’re still by my side. When you’re with the one you love, every day is a holiday.” No one seemed to remember that Hailey and I were twins. Today was my birthday, too. When Simon and I first started dating, he would plan elaborate dates for every special occasion. But since I was forced into the shadows, I hadn’t celebrated a single birthday. Simon always told me: “Your sister needs to feel like she is uniquely cherished right now. If you celebrate with her, her happiness will be diminished, and it will hinder her recovery.” I had believed that lie for years. Under her post, the comments were filled with warmth. My mother wrote: “Your happiness is my greatest joy, Hailey!” My father added: “We are so lucky to have Simon. The perfect son-in-law!” Staring at the words perfect son-in-law, I bit my lip until I tasted copper, tears streaming down my face. I wanted to ask them why Hailey was still playing sick when she had already recovered. I wanted to ask Simon if his professional act had become his reality. I wanted to ask what my five years of silent misery had meant to them. But I already knew the answers. I wiped my tears and checked my phone. Lauren’s reply had come through. “Phoebe, I am so glad you’re on board. There’s a mandatory training session before we head out.” I looked at the flight ticket she had booked for me. The training session was in Key West. Outside the entrance of a luxury hotel in Key West, Simon had just opened the car door for Hailey when he spotted me standing in the lobby. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, marching over. “We didn’t invite you. Are you really so desperate that you followed us?” I ignored his hostility, dragging my suitcase toward the reception desk. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m here for a work conference.” Simon let out a mocking laugh. “What kind of work could you possibly have here? If you wanted to follow us, just admit it.” By then, my parents and Owen had gotten out of the car. Seeing me, their faces instantly fell. “Didn’t we tell you not to come? Do you have to ruin every family gathering?” “Book a flight back immediately. Don’t stay here and trigger your sister.” I pulled out my corporate badge and showed it to them. “My training is on a completely different floor, and my room is nowhere near yours. I have no intention of crossing paths with any of you.” I grabbed my luggage and turned to walk away. Suddenly, Hailey, who had been standing quietly in the background, swayed on her feet. She clutched her head, her face turning pale. “Simon, you promised me it would just be us,” she whimpered. “Seeing her makes me feel so unsafe. My head hurts so bad!” Before Simon could even speak, she spun around and ran frantically toward the beach. Owen and Simon immediately chased after her. Out on the jagged rocks of the shoreline, Hailey’s fragile figure stood against the crashing waves. One more step, and she would fall into the ocean. My mother rushed up to me, raising her hand and delivering a stinging slap across my right cheek. “Are you happy now, Phoebe? Do you really want to see your sister dead?” Holding my burning cheek, I watched the dramatic scene unfold on the rocks. I felt a cold amusement. “Stop acting, Hailey,” I called out, my voice carrying over the wind. “The ocean breeze is freezing. If you catch a cold, Simon will be worried sick.” Hailey’s eyes widened in sudden panic. She stumbled, her foot slipping on the wet stone. Before she could fall, Simon lunged forward, catching her in his arms and pulling her back to safety. Hailey clung to him, trembling and weeping against his chest. “Simon, it’s my fault… I’m so sorry…” Simon held her close, stroking her hair with gentle, soothing motions. “It’s not your fault, Hailey. You aren’t the one who needs to apologize.” He turned to glare at me, his eyes stripped of any warmth. “Phoebe, how many times do I have to tell you that she is fragile? You knew about the accident, and yet you deliberately tried to trigger her. She is your twin sister!” “Are you really so consumed by jealousy that you’ve lost your humanity?” My mother was shaking with rage. “How did I raise such a heartless, ungrateful child?” Simon lifted Hailey into his arms. As he brushed past me, he left me with one final command. “If you have any decency left, stay away from Hailey.” They walked away, a tight-knit family shielding their precious daughter, none of them offering a single look back at me. The ocean wind stung against my bruised cheek, but the pain was nothing compared to the quiet ache in my heart. I wiped my face, unlocked my phone, and typed out a message. “Simon, let’s break up.” Simon didn’t read it. He had always insisted on keeping our relationship completely hidden, which meant my notifications were muted so Hailey would never catch a glimpse of my name on his screen. My messages were always left unanswered; sometimes for a day, sometimes for weeks. Even when he did reply, it was never more than a few words. Only Hailey’s messages were pinned to the top of his chat. Only her texts received instant replies. Even during the rare moments we spent alone, if Hailey messaged him claiming she was having a panic attack, he would abandon me on a freezing street corner, driving off to rescue her. When my afternoon training session ended, I walked down to the hotel restaurant and saw Simon. He was sitting with my parents, all of them hovering attentively over Hailey. Seeing me approach, Simon immediately stood up, stepping protectively in front of Hailey. I looked at him, finding the display utterly pathetic. “Is she really so delicate that a single glance from me will drive her to jump into the ocean?” Simon’s expression darkened, and he hissed under his breath. “Phoebe! You’re crossing the line! What is wrong with you lately? You used to be so compliant.” “Can’t you just show some grace to your sister? Hasn’t she suffered enough?” I smiled. “I’ve shown her grace for five years.” “But what you’re asking is for me to remain your secret, hidden shadow of a girlfriend forever, just in case she never gets better.” “Enough!” Simon interrupted sharply, grabbing my wrist and dragging me toward Hailey. “Apologize to your sister right now!” My mother chimed in, her voice shrill. “Your sister is in this state, and you still want to pick fights?” “Apologize to her and we’ll let this go.” My father joined in, his face set in a stern, cold mask. “This is entirely your fault, Phoebe. You know how fragile she is, yet you keep tearing open her wounds. Is saying sorry really that hard for you?” I looked at them. Though they were standing right in front of me, it felt as though an impassable chasm had opened up between us. The other hotel guests were starting to stare. I looked directly into Hailey’s eyes, catching the faint glint of triumph hidden in her gaze. “Stop playing the victim,” I said, my voice clear and deliberate. “I saw your medical file at the reception desk. You recovered months ago.” The smugness on Hailey’s face shattered instantly, replaced by sheer panic. Simon went entirely still, staring at me in shock. Before he could demand an explanation, Hailey suddenly clutched her stomach and let out a sharp cry. “Simon! I’m scared! I’m scared she’s going to hurt the baby!” A cold shock ran through me. “She’s pregnant?” Simon’s expression crumbled into guilt. He avoided my gaze, his voice dropping to a defensive whisper. “She begged me to stay with her that night… I only did it because of her psychological state…” Before he could finish his pathetic excuse, Hailey burst into tears and ran out of the restaurant. The hesitation on Simon’s face vanished, replaced by sudden fury. “A storm is rolling in, and the shoreline is dangerous! If anything happens to her, it’s on you!” “We will deal with this later. Right now, you are going to go out there and find her, or we are finished!” Even now, he thought threatening me with a breakup was the ultimate punishment, believing I could never survive without him. He pushed me out of the warm lobby and into the pouring rain. The storm had rolled in, turning the shoreline pitch black. The heavy rain soaked me to the bone, but I had finally stopped waiting for a warmth that would never come. I walked away from the hotel, threw my SIM card into the black ocean, and booked a flight to London.

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1 I had barely stepped into the courtyard of my apartment complex when a hand cut through the air, delivering a stinging slap right across my face. “You! It was you!” shrieked Mrs. Roberts, her face contorted with rage as she lunged at me. “You walked your dog without a leash last night, and that rabid beast of yours mauled my husband!” “He’s clinging to life in the hospital right now, and you are going to pay for this today!” I clutched my burning cheek, my blood boiling instantly. “Are you out of your mind? I don’t even own a dog! How could my dog have bitten your husband?” Without missing a beat, Mrs. Roberts whipped out her phone and began wailing to the gathering crowd, playing the victim. “Look at her, everyone! My husband is in the emergency room, and this dog owner is already trying to squirm out of it!” The surrounding neighbors erupted instantly. “How can she deny it after her dog mauled someone? What a monster!” “Call the cops! Don’t let this sociopath get away with it!” “Walking a dog without a leash and hurting people, she needs to be locked up!” Listening to the barrage of insults, I trembled with sheer fury. Me? Keep a dog? I was keeping a college student! A sweet, innocent little puppy of a boyfriend! … Suppressing my anger, I tried to reason with the crowd. “Listen to me, everyone. I don’t own a dog, so there is absolutely no way my non-existent pet bit anyone!” “I don’t even know this woman. She has clearly mistaken me for someone else!” Hearing this, Mrs. Roberts raised her voice by an octave, her screech piercing the air. “Bullshit! How could I mistake you for anyone else?” “I heard you with my own ears on the phone, telling someone how obedient and sweet your little puppy is!” “And then, that very night, my husband got attacked in the courtyard garden!” “You’re the only one in this entire building who talks about having a puppy! Who else could it be?” To back up her claim, she aggressively tapped her screen and played an audio recording. “Seriously, girl, that little puppy of mine is incredible! So sweet, but he’s got so much energy. And when he gets wild at night, like a total wolf, I couldn’t be happier!” Hearing my own voice blasting from her speakers, I nearly burst out laughing. To anyone with a shred of modern vocabulary, the slang was painfully obvious. “Hear that? She said it herself! It’s right there in the recording! She owns a puppy!” “Exactly! And she even called it a wolf! That must be a vicious, dangerous beast!” “Good heavens, how can someone be so shameless?” The absurdity of the neighbors’ reactions left me completely dumbfounded. “Wait, are you all living under a rock? Do none of you use the internet?” “When I said puppy and wolf, I didn’t mean actual…” Before I could finish, Mrs. Roberts lunged at me like a wild animal. I stepped aside just in time, and she went flying, hitting the pavement face-first. “Ow! Oh, the cruelty! What did I do to deserve this?” Seizing the opportunity, Mrs. Roberts sat right there on the concrete and began wailing at the top of her lungs, wiping away imaginary tears. “My poor husband! First he gets mauled by a dog, and now the owner is pushing me around! Where is the justice in this world?” The crowd, seeing her pathetic display, looked at me with renewed hatred. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Roberts, we’ve got your back!” “That’s right! Keeping a dangerous dog off-leash is a crime, especially when it attacks someone!” “Let’s call the police right now! Make sure she and her mutt get locked up!” “Absolutely! We can’t let her get away with this!” The neighbors chimed in, feeding off each other’s outrage. But the moment Mrs. Roberts heard the word police, a flicker of panic crossed her face. “No! Don’t call the police!” she cried out. “By the time the cops get here, my husband might be dead! I don’t care about the law right now, I just want her to pay for his medical bills! As long as she covers the hospital costs, that’s all I ask!” Watching her perform with plenty of noise but not a single tear, I cold-eyed her. “Mrs. Roberts, everything requires proof. You know better than anyone whether your husband was actually bitten by a dog.” Her face stiffened, her shifty eyes darting around. In the next second, she scrambled to her feet, only to drop straight to her knees right in front of me, sobbing hysterically. “Audrey, I beg of you, have some mercy! Save my husband!” “I won’t press charges for your dog attacking him. I just need a hundred thousand dollars for his surgery! Please, just give me the money to save his life!” She began banging her forehead against the ground, and within seconds, a trickle of blood appeared on her brow. The onlookers went completely wild at the sight. Several neighbors rushed to pull her up, turning to glare at me with venomous eyes. “Are you even human? Letting an elderly woman kneel and beg like this?” “You and your dog are cut from the same cloth, absolute garbage!” “Our community doesn’t want people like you! Get the hell out!” As the crowd’s anger reached a boiling point, a smug gleam flashed in Mrs. Roberts’s eyes. “Please, everyone, don’t say that. If we make her angry, my husband’s medical bills…” She made a show of trying to kneel again. I was speechless. I had never seen anyone so shamelessly desperate to scam someone. To prevent her from escalating this theater further, I spoke up, raising my voice to cut through the noise. “Everyone, look at the facts! The truth is not what you think!” “I do not own a dog. I can guarantee that to all of you!” “And as for Mrs. Roberts’s claims about a dog attack…” I paused, my gaze locking onto her cold and sharp. “Ma’am, I can let the fact that you slapped me slide for now. But if you utter another word of slander about my non-existent dog biting your husband, I will call the police and sue you for defamation immediately.” The sheer coldness in my voice finally silenced the crowd. Even Mrs. Roberts seemed startled, taking a half-step back. I honestly thought that would be the end of it. But that evening, Mrs. Roberts returned, this time leading a hostile mob of tenants to my front door. The man at the front pointed a finger right at my nose, shouting, “Audrey, you are going to pay Mrs. Roberts for her losses right now, and then you are going to take your dog and get the hell out of our building!” “Exactly! A beast like that should be put down!” “The owner is just as bad as the dog!” The accusations flew, their spit practically flying in my face. “Everyone, calm down and listen to me,” I said, raising my voice to command attention. “Since Mrs. Roberts is so absolutely sure my dog bit her husband, let me ask you this: where is the dog?” I swung my front door wide open. “Take a look for yourselves!” “She keeps claiming I have a dog in here. Look around. Is there a single trace of an animal in my home?” A few nosy neighbors leaned forward, peeking into my apartment. The place was spotless. The hardwood floors were immaculate, without a single stray hair, and the air was fresh, completely devoid of any pet odors. It looked entirely untouched by any animal. Whispers broke out among the crowd. “It really doesn’t look like she has a dog.” “Yeah, there’s no smell at all.” “Could Mrs. Roberts be making this up to get money?” “No way! Mrs. Roberts is always so sweet. She would never pull a stunt like that!” Sensing the shift in the air, Mrs. Roberts panicked. “Don’t let her trick you! She must have hidden the dog somewhere else!” “But I have proof! I have security footage right here on my phone!” She thrust her screen in front of everyone’s faces. In the grainy video, her husband was walking through the building’s garden when two dark shapes suddenly lunged at him, pinning him to the ground. A figure resembling me stood a few yards away, watching coldly. “Look! It’s her and her beasts! Who else could it be?” “That is complete garbage!” I snapped. “The person in that video isn’t me!” If you had even a basic understanding of modern technology, you would know how ridiculous this is! But my defense only provoked the neighbors further. “The proof is right there, and you’re still lying!” “How shameless can you be?” “You and your vicious pets are a menace!” I opened my mouth to explain that my puppy was actually my sweet, innocent college boyfriend, but I hesitated. The internet could be a toxic place, and dragging an innocent college student into a neighborhood dispute felt unfair to him. I forced myself to swallow the words. Taking my silence as a confession of guilt, Mrs. Roberts grew bolder. “See, everyone? The moment I show the footage, Audrey has nothing to say!” “It’s plain as day that her dog did this, yet she refuses to take responsibility!” Then, her tone shifted, wrapping herself in a cloak of false generosity. “But I’m not a cruel woman. Audrey, I’ll give you a chance to make things right.” “Just admit your dog bit my husband, cover all the medical expenses, and pay us five hundred thousand dollars for emotional distress, and we can put this behind us.” “I’ll even tell the neighbors it was all a big misunderstanding so you can keep living here in peace.” Looking at her smug, extortionate face, I trembled with fury. “Don’t think of me as harsh, dear. You only have your vicious dog to blame…” “Forget it!” I cut her off. “You won’t get a single penny from me!” “If you think you can blackmail me, you’re delusional!” With that, I slammed the door shut, locking them all out in the hallway. Muffled curses and insults still drifted through the door, but I didn’t care. I immediately called the property manager to lodge a formal complaint. Before long, the security guards managed to disperse the crowd. I spent the next hour organizing the audio recordings from earlier, ready to hand them over to my lawyer first thing in the morning. Yet, the next morning, a post titled “Spoiled Heiress’s Unleashed Dogs Maul Elderly Man, Owner Refuses to Pay” went viral online. In the video, Mrs. Roberts was weeping hysterically to the camera. “Please, everyone, help us…” “There’s a girl in our building named Audrey who keeps two wild, vicious dogs.” “She never uses a leash, and last night her beasts brutally attacked my husband!” “Now, she refuses to take accountability and even threatened to ruin our lives!” “My poor husband is fighting for his life in the ICU, waiting for a critical surgery. I beg of you, help us get justice…” She displayed photos of her husband in the hospital bed, interspersed with heavily edited clips of her kneeling before me while I coldly shut my door on her. The heart-wrenching sight of an elderly woman pleading for help instantly ignited the internet’s fury. “What an absolute monster! Is she even human?” “Walking dangerous dogs off-leash and acting like she owns the place?” “Lock her up and put those dogs down!” “Someone call the authorities immediately, she cannot get away with this!” Riding the wave of online outrage, Mrs. Roberts pushed her narrative even further in the comments. “To tell you the truth, my sweet children, I don’t even dare to report this to the police. Her family is incredibly wealthy and powerful, ordinary folks like us don’t stand a chance.” “I don’t want trouble. I just want her to cover the one hundred thousand dollars for his ICU bills. That’s all.” The internet took the bait hook, line, and sinker. Within hours, I was branded a cold-blooded attempted murderer, a spoiled brat abusing her privilege. Before long, internet vigilantes doxed my personal information. My phone buzzed incessantly with friend requests and hateful messages, each one more toxic than the last. Worse, someone leaked my exact apartment address. By afternoon, trash and red paint had been splattered across my front door. Then, my assistant called, her voice trembling. “Audrey, we have a massive crisis! The company’s public image is tanking, and several major partners have already sent termination notices for our upcoming projects!” That was the final straw. My blood ran boiling hot. In a single night, my home, my company, and my reputation had been completely dragged through the mud by a malicious, scheming old woman. I picked up my phone and dialed Toby, a close friend who worked at the city’s hospital. “Toby, I need a massive favor.” “Of course, Audrey. Name it.” “Can you look up the admission records and medical files for a patient who came in last night, an elderly man admitted by a Mrs. Roberts?” “On it. I’ll get back to you as soon as I find something.” No sooner had I hung up than my boyfriend’s name flashed on my screen. “Audrey! Are you okay? I saw the videos online. I’m so worried about you.” His youthful voice was laced with panic. Hearing his genuine concern, a warmth bloomed in my chest, melting some of the icy anger. “I’m fine, sweetie. Don’t worry. Just focus on your lectures today.” “No way! How can I focus when people are attacking you? I’m coming over right now!” His protective tone had a childish, clingy edge to it, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Alright. Just give me a call before you arrive.” As I hung up, a plan began to take shape in my mind. Since Mrs. Roberts was so incredibly convinced that I kept a couple of wild beasts, I might as well let her meet the actual beast himself. I hoped she was ready for him. By the time I walked down, the entrance of our building was swarming with reporters, internet live-streamers, and a small mob of self-righteous protesters holding up banners. “Justice for the Elderly! Put Down the Vicious Dogs!” Staring at the bold red letters, I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. “Hello, I’d like to report a case of malicious harassment, defamation, and blackmail.” Within ten minutes, the wail of sirens echoed from down the street. Armed with the evidence I had compiled, I stepped past the lobby doors. The moment the crowd caught sight of me, they surged forward like a wave, thrusting cameras, microphones, and smartphones directly into my face. “Ms. Audrey, the internet says you let your unleashed dogs maul an elderly man and refuse to pay for his medical treatment. Is that true?” “Ms. Audrey, did you deliberately walk dangerous dogs off-leash in a public area?” “Are you avoiding responsibility because you think an elderly victim has no voice?” Their questions were sharp, designed to paint me as a heartless villain. I kept my expression calm, walking right past them. “Everyone, I have already contacted the authorities, and officers are on their way. I believe the police will uncover the truth and clear my name.” Right on cue, two police officers walked through the crowd. “Who called the police? What’s going on here?” “I did, Officer,” I said, stepping forward. “This woman, Mrs. Roberts, has falsely accused me of keeping dogs that allegedly bit her husband. She has fabricated stories online, leading to massive harassment against me.” “Her actions have severely disrupted my personal life and damaged my business reputation. I want to file charges for extortion and defamation.” “Officer, don’t believe a single word she says!” Mrs. Roberts shrieked, elbowing her way to the front. “Her rabid beasts mauled my poor husband! Now she’s trying to flip the script and call me a liar!” The officer raised a hand to calm Mrs. Roberts down before turning back to me. “Ms. Audrey, you claim she is extorting and defaming you. Do you have any proof?” “I do,” I replied, holding my ground. “Clear, indisputable proof.” Mrs. Roberts scoffed, though a hint of panic flickered in her eyes. “What proof could you possibly have?” The surrounding neighbors started chiming in again. “Officer, don’t let her talk her way out of this!” “We all heard her talk about those dogs!” “Arrest her and put those vicious animals down!” Just then, my phone buzzed in my hand. I glanced at the screen and then looked at the officers. “Officer, my key witness and evidence just arrived.” I swiped to answer. “Hey, babe, just walk right up to the front gate. I’m right here.” After hanging up, I addressed the crowd. “Mrs. Roberts has been insisting to everyone that my little puppy and wild wolf are the vicious animals that attacked her husband.” “Well, my sweet puppy just got here.” Hearing this, Mrs. Roberts looked as if she had been injected with adrenaline. “Officers, did you hear that? She just admitted it! Those rabid beasts are coming!” “Get your tasers out! Kill those monsters before they hurt anyone else!” But as the words puppy and wolf echoed in the air, the younger bystanders in the crowd exchanged bewildered, knowing looks. “Wait, puppy? Wolf? Is she using those terms the way I think she is?” “Oh, absolutely…” “No way…” Several reporters and internet hosts turned to stare at Mrs. Roberts with rising amusement. One female reporter couldn’t help but ask, “Ma’am, are you absolutely sure she keeps two actual dogs, and not… two human partners?” The police officers’ expressions turned thoroughly unimpressed. But Mrs. Roberts was completely oblivious to the slang, raising her chin triumphantly. “Of course I’m sure!” “She keeps two of them!” “One little puppy!” “One wild wolf!” “I heard her call them that myself!” She threw a smug, challenging look in my direction. An awkward, heavy silence settled over the crowd. A few reporters quietly lowered their microphones, exchanging embarrassed glances. Two minutes later, a tall, striking figure emerged from the edge of the street. I raised my hand and waved. “Right there!” “That’s my little puppy and my wild wolf!” Every eye in the crowd followed the line of my finger. In the next second, a collective, audible gasp rippled through the courtyard.

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1 When I caught my detective husband with his first love, I didn’t cry. I dragged his partner Marcus into my car and made the chassis rock till dawn. My husband kicked the door open, punched Marcus, and dragged me out by my hair. “She’s my wife! You’re my brother’s girl!” Marcus laughed wildly. “I like taking what’s yours.” They brawled across the precinct courtyard, blood painting the concrete. Their brotherhood shattered. One went south, the other north. I divorced my husband and married Marcus. For three years, he spoiled me rotten, guarding me like a rabid dog. Until I found out I was pregnant. Rushing to surprise him at the precinct, I caught his voice drifting from the stairwell. “Marc, ten months and you haven’t filed for divorce. Don’t tell me you actually fell for her?” Through the fire door crack, I saw Marcus leaning against the wall. “A piece of used, dirty laundry? Fall for that? Alice’s pregnant. She can’t take drama right now.” Detectives laughed. “Lillian has no clue. You played the doting husband for two years because Alice wanted her ex back and Lillian wouldn’t sign. You put on a whole show just to trick her into a divorce!” “All that jealous acting was just to keep her from crawling back to her ex and making Alice uncomfortable!” Marcus flicked his ash through the smoke, voice low and calm. “I already had a fake paternity test drawn up. Once her belly shows, I’ll shove it in her face, call it a bastard, and kick her straight to the curb.” … The rest of their words faded into a high-pitched ring. By the time my mind cleared, I was already standing outside the precinct gates, shivered by the biting wind. The pregnancy report that should have brought me tears of joy felt like a death warrant. My hands shook so violently the paper fluttered in the breeze. My phone screen lit up with a notification from him. Hey babe, the briefing wrapped up early. What do you want for dinner? I will cook. A hollow laugh escaped my lips, but my tears splattered hot against the glass screen. My chest felt as if a rusted blade had been driven straight through my heart and twisted. I squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them again, the warmth was gone, replaced by cold ash. I opened my contacts and sent a message to the State Bureau. Captain Garrett, is that transfer slot to the State Homicide Division still open? I want to apply. Then, I dialed the city hospital. “I need to schedule an abortion. The earliest slot you have.” Looking down, my lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. This time, I was going to vanish without leaving a single trace. 2 I do not even remember how I walked back to the precinct quarters. When I pushed the door open, Marcus was sitting on the living room sofa. The moment he saw me, he stood up, his face softening into that familiar, bone-deep tenderness. “You are back? I made pork rib soup. Have some while it is hot.” I didn’t refuse. I sat down and forced down a couple of spoonfuls. Suddenly, his phone screen lit up. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the preview, and the blood in my veins turned to ice. Marc, that soup is too greasy. I don’t want it. Take it back and feed it to your wife. It had been sent twenty-one minutes ago. The soup in my bowl instantly tasted like slop. I dropped the spoon, bolted to the bathroom, and collapsed over the toilet, dry-heaving violently. Marcus hurried in after me, gently rubbing my back. “What is wrong, babe? Feeling sick?” I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me. You are sleeping on the couch tonight.” By the time the sun came up the next morning, Marcus was already gone. I walked to the hospital alone for my scheduled appointment. The doctor looked over my file, checking twice. “Lillian, your uterine lining is extremely thin. If you go through with this, conceiving again will be nearly impossible. Are you absolutely sure?” I nodded, my voice completely flat. “I am sure. Do it.” The procedure was quick. Clutching my prescription, I turned to leave the ward when I collided with someone. The impact wasn’t hard, but my body was weak and hollow from the surgery. My knees gave out, and I slammed hard onto the floor. My forehead struck the sharp edge of a marble step, sending flashes of black across my vision. I forced myself to look up and saw the woman standing in front of me: Alice. She was clutching her stomach, sinking to the floor, her face as pale as a sheet. “Alice!” Two figures charged forward at almost the exact same second. Dominic reached her first, throwing his arms around her shoulders, his voice tight with panic. Close behind him was Marcus. He held a prenatal checkup file in one hand and a bag of fresh fruit in the other, filled with Alice’s favorites. “Dominic… my stomach hurts so much…” Alice sobbed, burying her face in Dominic’s chest. Without a word, Dominic scooped her up in his arms and sprinted toward the ER. Marcus stood half a step behind them, his outstretched hand freezing in midair. A sharp, stabbing cramp ripped through my lower abdomen, breaking me out in a cold sweat. As I tried to push myself up off the floor, a heavy black canvas bag was slammed down over my head, plunging me into absolute darkness. Before I could even scream, a brutal kick caught me square in the stomach. The agonizing pain choked the sound right back down my throat. I curled into a tight ball, catching Marcus’s voice drifting through the heavy fabric. It was cold enough to freeze blood. “Drag this blind bitch to the back alley. Teach her some manners. She needs to learn who she is allowed to bump into.” A few rookie officers grabbed the bag and dragged me down the damp concrete alleyway. Because I was wearing a hood and a surgical mask post-surgery, he hadn’t recognized me. I thrashed wildly, but a heavy boot pinned my back to the ground, and the hard thud of tactical batons began raining down on my ribs. The officers chatted casually as they swung. “Man, Chief Marcus really has a thing for Alice. She gets bumped, and he loses his mind. I don’t think his actual wife ever got this kind of treatment.” “No kidding. Did you know that when Lillian took those fifty disciplinary lashes years ago, it was Chief Marcus who personally requested them from Internal Affairs?” “He even specifically told them to use the rubber-wrapped steel batons. Said it was a little punishment for dragging her feet on the divorce and upsetting Alice.” A violent ringing erupted in my head, like a flashbang exploding in my skull. Those fifty blows that had nearly ended my life years ago, the ones that made me view him as my savior, had been ordered by Marcus himself? The very last spark of light in my soul died right there in the dirt. 3 When I opened my eyes, I was lying in a sterile hospital room. Through the glass panel of the door, a row of officers was lined up, heads bowed. “A bunch of useless idiots! You couldn’t even recognize your chief’s wife?” The door pushed open. Marcus walked in, the residual fury still lingering in his eyes. Seeing me awake, he hurried to my bedside, his voice dropping into that soft, gentle tone. “Lily, you are awake? I have already suspended those idiots. Are you still in pain?” He reached out to brush the stray hair from my forehead, but I jerked my head away. His hand froze in the air. He let out a soft sigh. “It is my fault. Everything was a mess, and I didn’t recognize you. I am so sorry you had to go through that. Hey, didn’t you always want to recuperate in Savannah? I cleared my schedule for the next two weeks. I will go with you, okay?” I stared at him, my throat raw and dry. “No need. If you are so worried about Alice, why aren’t you with her?” Marcus stiffened. “I know you don’t like her, Lily. But her father is the State Deputy Director, and our joint task force is in the middle of a massive operation. If anything happens to her, the whole case falls apart. Besides, she is pregnant now. What happened in the past is ancient history. You are not still keeping score over her and Dominic, are you? You have to look at the bigger picture.” A wave of fury burned in my chest, but before I could speak, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was the State Bureau’s personnel department. “Lillian, your transfer to the State Homicide Division has been approved. You report for duty next week.” Marcus’s sharp ears caught the word “transfer.” His brow furrowed instantly. “What transfer?” “Nothing,” I muttered into the receiver, telling the caller I understood before hanging up. “Just some staff scheduling.” After a few days in the ward, I was discharged. The day of the City Homicide Conference finally arrived, and I had stayed up all night polishing my case analysis report. The auditorium was packed with detectives from various precincts, with cameras lined up in the front row. I took a deep breath, preparing to step up to the podium. Suddenly, the double doors of the conference room were kicked open. Marcus marched in, his face masked in a terrifying blend of cold anger. Striding onto the stage, he grabbed my wrist in a vice grip. “Lillian, how many times do I have to tell you to let the past go? You married me. Why the hell are you still stalking Dominic?” “Let go of me!” Wincing at the pain, I struggled. “Stalking? I don’t have a clue what you are talking about!” Before I could finish, a stinging slap landed across my face. Alice appeared on the stage out of nowhere, her beautiful face twisted in a mixture of disgust and triumph. “Still playing innocent? Fine! Let us show everyone what a desperate, pathetic bitch you really are!” A few technicians hurried to the control panel. Within seconds, my case report was wiped from the projector screen, replaced by screenshots of intimate messages. Dominic, I still love you. I don’t care about Marcus. Please take me back. What does that bitch Alice have that I don’t? She is just a homewrecker. Once you are bored of her, you will realize I am the only one who belongs with you. The texts were vulgar and humiliating. Scattered between them were several explicit, face-cropped photos of a woman whose body looked identical to mine. The entire room erupted into whispers and gasps. I yanked my hand out of Marcus’s grip. “This isn’t me! I am calling Internal Affairs right now!” As I pulled out my phone, Alice suddenly gasped, clutching her stomach as her face drained of color, her body listing backward. Marcus caught her before she hit the floor. Leaning weakly against him, Alice gasped for air, then suddenly pointed a trembling finger at the screen. “Wait. Look at the photo. That woman has a crescent-shaped scar on her chest. Lillian, if you claim it is not you, strip. Let us see.” A couple of junior officers stepped forward, forcing me down to my knees on the stage. I looked up, my eyes burning red as I stared directly at Marcus. “You are my husband, Marcus. Do I have a scar like that on my chest?” Marcus frowned, his voice cold and logical. “Lily, Alice is pregnant. She cannot handle this kind of stress. What is the harm in letting her check? Besides, if rumors spread that you are stalking your ex, your reputation is ruined anyway. Checking right now settles it for everyone.” He gave a slight nod to the officers. The officers pinned me, tearing open my shirt. I fought with everything I had, but my weak, post-op body was no match for them. When they ripped the fabric away, my chest was exposed to the entire room. My skin was smooth, pale, and entirely devoid of any crescent scar. Camera shutters clicked like rapid gunfire, the flashing lights blinding me. Every gaze in the room sliced into me like a knife. What was supposed to be my professional triumph had been turned into a public execution. Alice whimpered and collapsed into a feigned faint. Marcus didn’t spare me another look. He scooped her up in his arms, threw a cold command to the officers to escort me back, and sprinted out of the auditorium without looking back. 4 I was dragged back to the quarters. The official notice arrived shortly after: immediate suspension pending investigation. Overnight, my reputation was in tatters. I had nothing left. Shaking, I dragged myself to the nightstand, grabbed the bottle of prescription sleeping pills, and dumped a handful into my palm. I was raising them to my mouth when the door flew open. Marcus stormed in, ripping the bottle from my hand. “Are you out of your mind? You trying to kill yourself?” I let out a jagged laugh, tears streaming down my face. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” During my years with Dominic, insomnia had nearly driven me mad, and these pills had been my only escape. It was Marcus who had pulled me out of that dark hole, staying up with me night after night until I was finally clean. And now, he was the one shoving me back down, deeper than before. Marcus scoffed, tossing the bottle onto the table. “Cut the drama, Lily. The misunderstanding was cleared up, wasn’t it? Save these cheap suicide threats for Dominic. They don’t work on me.” Unable to hold back, I swung my arm and slapped him across the face. The sharp crack echoed through the quiet room. His head jetted back, a dark red mark rising on his cheek. Anger flared in his eyes, but looking at my tear-stained face, he suppressed it. Just then, his phone rang. He listened for a brief moment, and his expression turned grim. “Get in here! Pin her down!” Two officers burst through the door, pinning my arms and forcing me onto the sofa. A cold dread crept up my spine. Marcus’s face was pale. “Alice collapsed again. She is unconscious, and the baby is in critical condition. The doctor says she has severe anemia.” He glared at me. “You are going to give her a transfusion.” “No!” I screamed, thrashing wildly, but the officers held me down like a vice. I was dragged to the clinic. My arm was bound with a rubber tourniquet, and a thick needle was jammed roughly into my vein. Dark red blood surged through the clear plastic tubing, filling bag after bag. My vision began to blur. Cold sweat coated my skin, and my lips turned a ghostly white. “Please… stop… I cannot take any more,” I whimpered. The nurse on duty frowned, looking at Marcus. “Chief, we have exceeded the safe limit. Any more and she will go into shock.” Marcus didn’t even blink. His voice was as cold as a scalpel. “Keep drawing.” My movements grew sluggish, and the darkness closed in. By the time they finally pulled the needle out, they had taken five bags of my blood. I collapsed onto the cold tile floor, my breathing shallow and weak. Marcus stood over me, looking down at my broken form. After a long silence, he sighed. “Lily, Alice is carrying a child. Just bear with it. I will arrange for you to stay at a retreat in Savannah for a while. Once she delivers, I will bring you back. You always wanted a family, right? When this is over, we will have our own.” He paused, adjusting his collar. “Rest up. I am going to check on her.” He turned and walked away toward Alice’s room without a single backward glance. As the door clicked shut, the very last trace of warmth in my heart died. Like a discarded doll, I let the nurse lift me into a wheelchair and wheel me out of the clinic. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a message from the State Bureau. Lillian, I heard about what happened today. Don’t worry, I have got your back. Get ready to move out. Tears dripped onto the screen, blurring the text. With trembling fingers, I typed out a single word: Yes. An hour later, I stood in the airport departure lounge. My face was pale as death, a cotton ball taped over the fresh puncture wound in the crook of my elbow. My phone rang. It was Marcus’s partner. “Lillian, the ticket to Savannah is booked. Should I have a cruiser pick you up?” “No need,” I said softly, looking out at the overcast sky. “Do me a favor and give the small metal box in my dresser to Marcus. And please… don’t call me that anymore.” I hung up and walked toward security. It was finally over. The curtain had fallen on Marcus’s grand play, and I was going to reclaim my life.

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Alex walked in as I finished my diary entry: He wants pork chops. Remember to buy some tomorrow. At the door, he knelt to place slippers at his lab assistant Vivian’s feet. They nodded at me, passing by to discuss data I couldn’t follow. Feeling like a stranger in my own home, I retreated to the kitchen, slicing fruit. When I returned, Vivian was flipping through my journal. “Isla, I had no idea you were such a devoted housewife. You actually kept a daily journal just for Alex.” Mock pity dripped from her tone as she ripped it in half. “Let me help you find your independence.” Panic seized me. I lunged, but Alex shoved between us, batting my hands away. “What is wrong with you? It is just a stupid notebook!” He scoffed. “Vivian is right. Why waste time on useless garbage?” Vivian giggled. “It says here you actually sobbed and begged a doctor when she got sick.” Alex’s face flushed crimson. “Why record every private detail? Scribbling nonsense all day, no wonder you haven’t found a job!” Terrified she’d dig up more, he snatched the remaining half, tore it to shreds, and tossed it in the trash. I watched him usher her out, tears streaming. He had no idea. Without that journal, by tomorrow, I would completely forget who he was. 1 I do not know when the illness began. At first, it was just a random morning. I woke up, looked at Alex heating up a mug of milk, and asked in confusion, “Alex, aren’t we going to that popular brunch spot we booked weeks ago? Why are you making breakfast?” Alex paused and glanced at me, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Isla, are you still half-asleep? We went to that bistro yesterday. You complained that the eggs were overcooked and swore you would never go back.” It was only when he saw the sheer blankness in my eyes that panic set in. He wrapped a coat around my shoulders and dragged me straight to the emergency room. When the doctor asked questions and realized my entire memory of the previous day was completely gone, Alex lost his mind. Terrified that I was dying of some incurable disease, he grabbed the doctor’s hand, tears spilling over. “Please, doctor, you have to save her. I will give my own life if I have to!” But after a battery of scans and blood tests, the hospital found absolutely nothing. They eventually chalked it up to stress, calling it a case of temporary, psychogenic amnesia. Alex was terrified. For a week, he refused to leave my side, taking a leave of absence from his university lab just to monitor me. It was only after seven incident-free days that I finally managed to coax him back to his research. But the peace didn’t last. Shortly after he returned to school, the strange fog rolled back into my brain. This time, a whole week of my life was completely erased. I could not bring myself to tell him. Instead, I went back to the clinic alone. Again, the tests came up clear. Dr. Bennett was baffled, only able to prescribe some mild sedatives and advise regular checkups. Back at the apartment, I stared at the front door, paralyzed. I knew Alex. If he found out I was getting worse, he would drop his thesis and spend every waking hour hovering over me. But I could not let my broken mind derail his dreams. I could not let my fading memories ruin his future. To protect him and save myself, I started keeping a journal. Starting from the day we met, I meticulously transcribed every detail of our life together, anchoring my soul to those pages. But my condition only accelerated. At first, the gaps were small and random. Then, the blackouts became more frequent, swallowing larger chunks of my past. Eventually, I woke up one morning to find my mind frozen at eighteen, before I had ever met Alex. It was only through that battered journal that I was able to piece myself back together. Job hunting became impossible. I claimed I was freelancing, hiding in the safety of our apartment, caught in an endless loop of forgetting and relearning my own life. I tried to reason with myself. Our fight was just a misunderstanding. Alex didn’t know about my disease, so he thought I was just acting crazy. Once I told him the truth, he would understand why the journal mattered, and we would make up. I ran out of the bedroom, catching him at the front door. He was holding their coats, murmuring gentle reassurances to Vivian. Seeing them about to leave, I called out, “Wait! Alex, please, I need to tell you something. I kept that journal because… because I am sick.” 2 Hearing my words, Alex froze. When he turned back to look at me, his eyes were instantly flooded with worry. “Isla, when did you get sick? Why didn’t you tell me? Is it serious? What did the doctor say?” Seeing his panic, a small weight lifted from my chest. I knew it. He had only snapped because his pride was wounded in front of his junior colleague. But before I could speak, Vivian rolled her eyes, her sigh dripping with irritation. “Isla, please don’t tell me you are going to claim you have depression. I stopped using that excuse back in high school. True clinical depression is agonizing. People fight for their lives every day against their own minds. They don’t just use it as a convenient excuse whenever things don’t go their way.” Hearing her words, Alex’s expression hardened again. He scanned me from head to toe, his brow furrowing. “Isla, if you are actually sick, show me your medical records. I will go to the clinic with you.” But there were no medical records. The doctors couldn’t find a cause, so they had never given me an official diagnosis. Seeing me freeze, Alex assumed Vivian had caught me in a lie. Anger flared in his eyes. “Isla, you are seriously fabricating an illness just to make me feel guilty? You sit at home all day doing absolutely nothing, how could you possibly be depressed? I only told you to get a job so you would stop wasting your life, and this is how you manipulate me?” “No, Alex, listen to me…” I reached out, desperate to explain. But his mind was made up. He saw me as a liar playing the victim. Casting one last disappointed look at me, he opened the door and walked out with Vivian. I stood there staring at the closed door, my legs trembling. Finally, I dragged myself back to the bedroom and fell to my knees by the trash can, picking out the shredded scraps of my journal. I smoothed them out, trying to piece the puzzle of my life back together, but many fragments were torn too finely to salvage. Clutching the salvaged pages, I sat on the living room sofa to wait. I knew he would come home. No matter how vicious our arguments had been over the years, he never stayed out overnight because he knew I would worry. Once he returned and we were alone, he would listen to me. It was past midnight when the key finally turned in the lock. Alex walked in, exhaustion written across his face. He didn’t even glance at me sitting on the sofa, walking straight toward the guest bedroom. I sprang up and grabbed his wrist. “Alex, please. I wasn’t lying. I am really sick.” He paused, but when he realized I was still clinging to the same excuse instead of apologizing, his frustration boiled over. He whipped around to glare at me. “Fine, Isla. You want to play this game? Tomorrow we are going to the hospital, and we will let the doctors run every test until we find out exactly what is wrong with you!” He violently shook off my grip. “I am exhausted. I am going to bed.” Panic surged through me as I watched him walk away. Tomorrow would be too late. But Alex had already shut the door of the guest room, and a sharp click told me he had locked it from the inside to keep me out. I knew I should let him rest. He was tired, and arguing would solve nothing. But I had no time. The remaining scraps of my journal weren’t enough. Without them, I wouldn’t be able to piece together the twenty-four-year-old woman who loved Alex. The realization that I might wake up tomorrow with no memory of him brought a sharp, physical pain to my chest. Clutching my heart, I slumped against the locked door, tears blurring my vision. “Alex, please, just talk to me. I know you are angry, but I swear I am not lying to you.” Silence greeted me from the other side. No shouts, no complaints, just a heavy, suffocating quietness that seemed to press down on my shoulders. I sobbed silently, the tears choking my throat. Finally, the door swung open. But Alex’s face held no warmth, only a cold irritation that made him look like a total stranger. “Isla, when is this going to end? I have told you a thousand times that I am tired. I have to be in the lab early tomorrow. Can’t you show a single shred of consideration for my work? Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow!” He practically roared the last sentence in my face. I stared at the man standing before me, my heart aching. This wasn’t the Alex from my journal. The man I knew would never treat me with such hostility. Recalling how he had shielded Vivian earlier, the question slipped out of my mouth before I could stop it. “Alex, do you still love me?” 3 Alex’s brow furrowed so deeply a vein began to throb at his temple. “If I didn’t love you, would I still be standing here listening to this nonsense? Would I tolerate you humiliating me in front of my colleague? I don’t get you, Isla. When did you become so exhausting?” His cold, critical gaze forced me back a step. Exhausting? He blamed me for changing, but what about him? “Alex, you once promised that you would always believe me, no matter what. Was that a lie? Did you forget the vow you made three years ago when we almost broke up? You swore we would always sit down, listen to each other, and never let misunderstandings tear us apart.” He had even recorded those words on his phone, calling it the foundation of our relationship. I clung to those memories from my journal, but Alex merely scoffed. “Isla, you kept me awake just to bring up some ancient history? I have been working seventy hours a week at the lab. I deleted those useless files ages ago.” I looked up, meeting his impatient eyes, and a shudder ran through my body. Useless. Our promises were useless to him now. What was the point of me clinging to these memories, reviewing them night after night like a desperate student? “Then what actually matters to you, Alex? If our promises don’t matter, does Vivian?” Alex answered without a second thought. “Vivian is brilliant, hard-working, and ambitious. Look at yourself, Isla. You sit around all day doing nothing. How can you even compare yourself to her?” The moment the words left his mouth, a flash of regret crossed his eyes. Seeing me stand there in silence, he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Isla, I didn’t mean to snap. I am just under a lot of pressure at the lab. If you are done, go to bed.” Without waiting for a response, he quietly closed the door. His muffled voice came through the thick wood. “Goodnight, Isla. We will talk tomorrow.” I turned away, my vision blurring. Alex, there is no tomorrow for us. Clutching the half-assembled journal, a bitter doubt took root in my mind. Was this diary just a collection of lies I told myself? Was his love for me merely a delusion I had fabricated? Why did the real Alex feel so entirely different from the man in these pages? On my way to the bedroom, I noticed a sticky note affixed to the refrigerator door. Vivian often skips breakfast and gets dizzy. Remember to bring her some food. I stared at it. My journal used to contain notes just like that, written in his precise handwriting, but every single one of them had been addressed to Isla. Alex had deleted our voice recordings, discarded our history, and now, even his sweet gestures belonged to someone else. I no longer had a place in his life. Maybe it was time to stop lying to myself with this journal. I took the reconstructed journal back to my desk, ripped it into tiny shreds, and tossed them back into the wastebasket. If Alex no longer loved me, then I had no reason to force myself to become the twenty-four-year-old woman who adored him. I lay down on the bed and closed my eyes, letting sleep pull me under. I stood back and let the memories drift away, watching the image of Alex fade until he vanished entirely from my life. When the morning sun filtered through my eyelids, I stirred awake. My hand instinctively reached toward the nightstand, feeling as if something important should be there, but finding only empty wood. Shaking off the brief moment of confusion, I stretched, threw open my bedroom door, and called out, “Mom! Dad! What is for breakfast?” But there was only a strange man sitting on the living room sofa. At the sound of my voice, his expression darkened. “Isla, are you seriously acting like a child? We had a small fight, and now you are calling your parents?” Terror seized me. I took several steps back toward my bedroom, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Who are you? What are you doing in my apartment?”

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