Author: Momo Chan

Reborn. I willingly gave up my coveted spot to accompany my diplomat-in-training wife on her overseas fellowship to Geneva. I packed my entire life into a single duffel bag and headed back to my rust-belt hometown, putting as much distance between us as humanly possible. Because in my previous life, she spent a drunken, blurry night with her junior colleague, and the coward refused to take responsibility. I stepped out of the crowd, took the blame, and married her to save her reputation. She put my ring on her finger, but she froze me out for the rest of my miserable life. I spent agonizing nights bleeding over foreign language textbooks just to keep up with her world, only for her to rip the pages right out of my hands. “You could study for a century and never have Preston’s natural talent.” Our mandated once-a-month time in bed was a masterclass in numb endurance. “Read a book for once. Preston would never be a slave to base biological urges.” Even when she was arranging her final affairs, she explicitly forbade me from sharing her cemetery plot. I stood in the freezing rain and looked at her headstone. It read: “Beloved Wife of Preston.” That was the moment the gut-punch landed. I finally realized I was nothing but a pathetic, disposable prop in her grand love story. Given a second chance at life, I opened my eyes on the exact morning after she and Preston shared their little night of passion. This time, I did not step up to be her knight in shining armor. I rode the wave of chaos and dumped her on the spot. 1 “Victoria, isn’t Jason your boyfriend? What the hell are you doing tangled up with Preston!” “Getting caught in the act like this is a damn disgrace. Get out of bed and march down to city hall before you ruin the company’s image!” A crowd of coworkers clustered outside the company housing units, their whispers buzzing like a hive of angry hornets. Victoria clutched a cheap polyester sheet to her chest. Her face was entirely flushed, her vocal cords paralyzed by sheer humiliation. Preston, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to scrub his own skin off just to avoid being linked to her. He frantically yanked up his slacks, shooting her a look of pure, unadulterated panic. “Victoria, you know I signed a five-year morality and non-compete clause with the firm! If corporate HR escalates this, my career is dead in the water!” In my past life, I had walked into this exact scene while bringing Victoria her morning coffee. My heart had shattered into a million jagged pieces. Like a fool, I had rushed into the room, covered up her dirty laundry, and offered her a wedding ring to kill the rumors. If getting blindly drunk was just an accident, then how could anyone explain the sickeningly sweet, flushed look Victoria was giving Preston as she silently begged him to claim her? I had braved the hurricane of office gossip to make her my wife, only to be rewarded with half a lifetime of glacial indifference. This time around, my feet stayed firmly planted in the hallway. I crossed my arms and watched the fire burn. The whispers grew into loud jeers. The crowd of spectators thickened by the second. Preston was pacing like a caged rat. The second his panicked eyes locked onto me in the doorway, he jutted a trembling finger in my direction. “I have perfect self-control! Someone must have slipped something in my drink!” “Yesterday, Jason brought Victoria a bottle of water. Right after we drank it, we completely lost our minds.” “Jason, you sick bastard! You wanted to trap Victoria into a shotgun wedding, but you ended up destroying both of our reputations instead!” In a heartbeat, the crowd’s judging, disgusted glares pivoted away from the bed and zeroed in on me. Victoria, fueled by shame and a desperate need for a scapegoat, unleashed her venom in my direction. “Why are you just standing there humiliating yourself!” “Get your ass to the director’s office right now and confess to what you did!” “Are you trying to get me and Preston fired because of your toxic jealousy?!” She knew damn well what really happened last night. But over the years, tossing Preston’s messes onto my shoulders had become her favorite reflex. When Preston lost classified client files on a bender, she filed an anonymous tip claiming I was the office thief. When Preston trashed an expensive piece of lab equipment, she screamed at me until my ears rang, forcing me to take the write-up. The endless river of false accusations had eroded my soul. But playing the sacrificial lamb for Preston was a script I was ripping to shreds today. I calmly pulled my stamped timecard from my jacket pocket and held it up to the light. “I was pulling an overnight shift at the manufacturing plant until six this morning. Tell me exactly when I managed to sneak in here and hand you a water bottle.” “The truth is, you two locked yourselves in a room together in the dead of night. Whatever happened is on you.” My words flipped the script. The crowd’s murmurs instantly changed their tune. “What kind of decent woman spends the whole night in a bachelor’s apartment? And this isn’t even Victoria’s first time!” “Honestly, Jason is the real victim here. These two have been playing him for an absolute fool.” Seeing the jury of public opinion swing my way, Preston immediately turned on the waterworks. “Jason, man, it is so messed up that you orchestrated this whole crowd just to frame my relationship with Victoria!” “Forget about my reputation, but Victoria is your girl! Don’t you even care about dragging your own lady through the mud?” What a toxic, silver-tongued snake. I had been standing there for less than three minutes, yet he was already painting me as the mastermind who rallied a mob to sabotage his golden career. They were caught sweating in the same bed, and he still had the audacity to say I was framing them. It was genuinely laughable. Victoria cared about his corporate ladder more than her own pulse. Terrified that this scandal would cost him his job, she went into full panic mode. She reached out, gripping his hand tightly to soothe him. “Preston! None of this is your fault. Don’t worry, the person truly responsible will face the consequences!” Then, her eyes turned to dead winter as she glared at me. She bared her teeth. “Are you happy now?! Get out of my sight and start scraping together a dowry to marry me!” “If this little stunt of yours leaves a single scratch on Preston’s career, you can kiss any chance of being my husband goodbye!” Just as I suspected. To her, I was nothing more than a pathetic backup plan. A safety net made of garbage. I let out a low, mocking laugh. “Preston won’t even touch you in the daylight. What makes you think I want his leftovers?” “We are done, Victoria. Have a nice life.” 2 The scandalous details of Victoria and Preston’s wild night spread through the corporate campus like wildfire. The executive directors dragged them both into a closed-door meeting. Word on the floor was that upper management gave them an ultimatum. One of them had to pack their desk and leave. I headed straight to the HR department, handed in my resignation, and walked back to my apartment. Victoria was already waiting in my living room. She shot me a venomous glare, her voice dripping with entitlement. “Preston is getting fired. I hope you are proud of yourself.” “If you had just been a man and admitted you spiked the drinks, none of this nightmare would be happening!” In the past, I had always shrunk myself down to make her feel huge. She was entirely used to looking down on me from her imaginary pedestal. The old Jason would have been on his knees begging for forgiveness by now. But today, the only thought echoing in my skull was, “Why the hell should I?” “I didn’t drug anyone, so why would I confess to a felony?” “Preston is getting fired because he lacks basic professional morals. That is not my problem. Besides, we are officially broken up. Get the hell out of my apartment.” Victoria froze. A flicker of genuine shock shattered her cold facade. But the moment her eyes caught the stamped resignation papers on my coffee table, her arrogant smirk returned. “Oh, I see. You quit your job to give your position to Preston just to win me back. You can drop the tough guy act now, it is getting pathetic.” Assuming Preston’s career was saved, her mood shifted. Her tone lost a fraction of its icy edge. “Fine. I will forgive you for publicly disrespecting me yesterday.” “Have five thousand dollars ready in cash, plus some decent jewelry, and I will let you marry me.” I let out a harsh laugh, picking up the paperwork and shoving it directly in her face. “Read the fine print, Victoria. I am quitting. I am not transferring my role to Preston.” “And I would rather drink glass than marry you.” She snatched the papers from my hand, her eyes going wide as she scanned the official stamps. She slammed the documents down on the table. “Jason! You are taking this way too far!” “Preston was right about you! You saw me hit a rough patch, and now you are abandoning the woman who stood by you to go chase some cheap thrill!” “Yesterday was just an accident! People make mistakes! What kind of blood sacrifice do you want from me before you let this go!” There it was again. Preston said this. Preston said that. In my previous life, I merely said a polite hello to a new female intern. Preston immediately whispered in Victoria’s ear, claiming I was flirting and sleeping around behind her back. She didn’t even give me a chance to speak. She swallowed his poison instantly. She stormed into the regional manager’s office, screaming that I was a serial cheater. She even filed a formal complaint with the ethics board. I was almost dragged out by security and blacklisted from the entire industry. I was supposed to be her partner, but my words held less weight than dirt. Now, she had literally hopped into bed with another man, and she expected me to brush it off as a minor clerical error. Whatever Preston spat out was the absolute gospel. Whatever I said was just white noise. “Save your breath. I already told you. We are done.” Victoria’s chest heaved violently. She let out a chilling sneer. “Okay, fine! We are done! But you are going to give back every single gift I have ever bought you over the years!” Watching her try to play the extortion game, I just scoffed. I walked over to a cardboard box in the corner, dug around, and tossed two pairs of plain cotton socks and a single, mismatched winter glove onto the table. She looked at the pathetic pile in absolute disbelief. “Where is the rest of it?! Don’t try to hide my things from me!” “That is all of it. You threw these two pairs of socks at me because they came free when you bought Preston’s winter coat. And this glove is the one Preston decided he didn’t like.” My eyes locked onto hers, filled with razor-sharp irony. “Six years, Victoria. Six years, and this is the grand total of your generosity.” Her face burned scarlet. The undeniable proof of her selfishness sat right there on the wood, stripping away her pride. Having absolutely zero evidence to fight back with, she puffed up her chest, trying to mask her burning guilt with sheer volume. “You are lying! I know there is more!” “What about that vintage heirloom bracelet your mother promised me! She said it was mine, which means I keep it even if we break up!” “That antique is worth a fortune. I am going to pawn it so I can fund Preston’s fellowship application for Geneva!” So that was it. The real reason she graced my apartment with her presence today was to squeeze me dry to save Preston’s overseas dreams. The talk about marriage, the dowry, the gifts. It was all a cheap manipulation tactic. A heavy, suffocating disappointment settled in my chest. I pointed a rigid finger at the front door and roared. “You are never touching my mother’s bracelet! Get the hell out of my house, right now!” “You will regret this, Jason. Just wait!” 3 The factory director told me that as soon as I returned the five thousand dollars in corporate petty cash, my resignation would be finalized. It was leftover money from a mechanical parts order, and I had kept it locked securely in my apartment for safekeeping. But when I pried open the floorboard and unlocked the heavy wooden lockbox… It was empty. The thick stack of hundred-dollar bills, and the velvet box holding my mother’s heirloom bracelet. My entire life savings. Vanished. There were only two people on earth who knew where that key was hidden. I felt the blood roaring in my ears. I tore out of the apartment and went hunting for Victoria. After asking around the neighborhood, I found out she had rented out a private lounge to celebrate Preston’s birthday. I kicked the double doors open. Preston was standing in the center of the room, dripping in luxury. A tailored designer suit, a ridiculously expensive imported watch on his wrist, and leather shoes polished to a mirror shine. He smirked as I walked in. “Jason, buddy! Glad you could make it. Victoria is throwing me a little bash.” “Thanks for sponsoring the event, by the way.” Victoria had bought him a mountain of high-end garments. Fabrics that cost a month’s salary per yard. A massive, multi-tiered gourmet cake dominated the center of a table groaning under the weight of expensive champagne and imported steaks. Victoria’s pathetic entry-level salary couldn’t even cover the appetizer menu in a place like this. She had bled my lockbox dry to fund this circus. My vision swam with red. I marched up to the table and screamed at the top of my lungs. “Did you break into my box, steal the company cash, and pawn my mother’s bracelet?!” Victoria didn’t even flinch. She sipped her champagne, completely unfazed by my boiling rage. “Preston lost his job because of your little temper tantrum. He has been so depressed he hasn’t eaten for days.” “I took some initiative and used your funds to compensate him. You shouldn’t have a problem with that.” Six years together. I had never once tasted a birthday cake. I hadn’t bought a new suit in a decade. She stole my money to play sugar mama to Preston, and she said it with the casual arrogance of someone ordering a coffee. The volcano inside my chest finally erupted. I grabbed the edge of the heavy banquet table and violently flipped it over. Shattered glass, ruined cake, and expensive champagne exploded across the polished hardwood. “Victoria! That was corporate petty cash! If I don’t hand that money back to the director by tomorrow, I am going to federal prison!” “Whatever is left, you are giving it back to me right now!” The table crashed to the floor. Preston let out a high-pitched shriek and threw himself dramatically in the direction the table was falling. “Jason! I was just about to put in a good word for you! Why would you intentionally smash my hand!” “I need these fingers to type up summit reports at the Geneva headquarters! If my nerves are damaged, my career is over!” It was a blatant, pathetic lie. His hand had barely grazed the edge of the wood, leaving a faint pink mark at best. But Victoria’s face twisted into a mask of demonic fury. She lunged forward, grabbed two fistfuls of my jacket collar, and violently slammed my forehead into the jagged edge of a nearby counter. She smashed my head down over and over. By the time she let go, warm blood was pouring down into my eyes. “Get on your knees and apologize to Preston!” Agony radiated through my skull, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the burning hatred in my chest. I clutched my bleeding forehead and glared at her. “Why the hell should I?! I didn’t touch him! He threw himself at the table!” Caught in his terrible acting, Preston started wailing louder. “Victoria, he is lying! How was I supposed to know he was going to turn into a violent psycho?” “My special day is ruined, my job is gone, I can’t take this anymore!” Victoria rushed over and wrapped her arms around him, cooing soft words into his ear. When she turned her gaze back to me, her eyes were bottomless pits of ice. “I am giving you three seconds to get on your knees and beg for his forgiveness.” “If you don’t, I will personally draft an email to the executive board right now. I will tell them you embezzled the five thousand dollars to fund a gambling habit. Have fun rotting in a concrete cell!” My pupils dilated in sheer terror. My fists clenched so hard my knuckles popped. She had spent the money, yes. But my name was on the ledger. I was the one responsible for that cash. If corporate pressed charges for high-level embezzlement, I would be looking at fifteen years behind bars. My entire life would be turned to ash. Hot, bitter tears of utter defeat burned my eyes. The adrenaline drained from my legs, and my knees hit the hardwood floor with a heavy thud. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have lost my temper.” “Please… just give me the money back!” Victoria let out a victorious sneer. She reached into her designer purse, pulled out a single copper penny, and threw it directly at my bleeding face. “There. That is all that is left. Every other cent went into securing Preston’s VIP spot for the Geneva fellowship.” “To me, you are not even worth the dirt on my shoes.” My hands shook violently as I picked up the cold penny from the floor. My throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper. “Five thousand dollars… plus a vintage heirloom bracelet. And you are telling me this is all you have left?” “Exactly. That is all there is.” Preston looked down at me with a sickening, triumphant grin. Then, he intentionally let his tongue slip. “Oh, wait, Victoria. Don’t you still have about eight grand sitting in your savings account? Why don’t you float him a loan so he doesn’t go to jail?” “Ah, my mistake! I forgot, you told me yesterday that money is strictly reserved for our luxury shopping trips in Europe. Untouchable!” Blood dripped from my chin onto my shirt. I stared at the two of them with dead, hollow eyes. “So this is how it ends? You really are going to leave me to take the fall?” Victoria’s emotionless silence gave me all the answers I needed. The very next morning, the corporate bulletin board proudly displayed the approved names for the Geneva Summit: Victoria and Preston. Preston was walking through the lobby shaking hands, soaking up the praise, and rolling his designer luggage toward the airport shuttle. I kicked the glass doors of the lobby open, holding my ID badge high in the air, and screamed. “Victoria and Preston are guilty of grand larceny and corporate embezzlement exceeding five thousand dollars! Their ethical violations completely disqualify them from any overseas company representation!” “The local authorities are on their way right now! I am officially whistleblowing on their fraudulent fellowship applications! I demand that HR revoke their travel clearances immediately!”

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1 At our graduation dinner, Aaron and his debate partner Judith traded insults through me, one chair apart. Judith was moving to Atlanta. Aaron sneered she wouldn’t last three months. She told him to mind his own business. He smirked, dropping a peeled shrimp in my bowl. “As if she’s ever won once.” As dinner ended, Aaron slid a manila envelope to me. “Give this to Judith tomorrow.” Inside was a complete Atlanta relocation guide I’d compiled for him: rental checklists, red-flag warnings, hospital addresses, transit routes. He frowned defensively. “Don’t overthink it. She’s idiotically naive. If she gets scammed, she’ll just cry to me.” Last month, when I told him I’d accepted a job in New York, he’d casually said I should take care of myself. Pinching my cheek, he’d said, “You’re different. Wherever you go, I never have to worry about you.” I used to think that was trust. Only later did I realize he never worried about me leaving because he never planned on following me. Meanwhile, for the girl he mocked as useless, he’d mapped out an entire city before she even boarded the plane. … Dinner wasn’t even over when Judith sent a text to our group chat: Tell a certain someone to take his trash guide back. I don’t need it. Aaron glanced at his phone, then pushed another freshly peeled shrimp toward me. “Tell her she can take it or leave it. But if some sketchy landlord rips her off, she better not call me crying in the middle of the night.” I didn’t pick up my fork. That guide was something he had asked me to make two weeks ago. He had dumped seven or eight apartment listings into my inbox, saying Judith was moving to Atlanta alone and lacked the brains to figure it out, so I should look into them for her. I spent hours checking subway lines, hospital proximity, building management reviews, and commute times. I even called the landlords to confirm which way the windows faced. Aaron had replied with a single kissing emoji. My Nora is the most reliable. A second later, another text followed: She has a terrible morning temper. Is a forty-minute commute too long for her? That night, my own defense thesis was still waiting to be revised. Now that Judith refused to take it, he wanted me to hand-deliver it to her. Aaron tapped his knuckles against the table. “What are you daydreaming about?” “Do you remember what time my train leaves the day after tomorrow?” I asked. He blinked, caught off guard. “The afternoon?” “Seven-forty in the morning.” “That early?” He frowned, his tone laced with subtle blame, as if I had failed to inform him. Yet a month ago, I had sent him a screenshot of my ticket. Three days ago, I asked him if he could walk me to the station. He had merely replied: We’ll see. Judith is leaving that day too. Just make sure your times don’t clash. He remembered Judith’s train to Atlanta was at ten-twenty, but he couldn’t remember that mine was more than two hours earlier. Across the table, Judith swirled her glass of wine. “Nora, tell him not to think a stupid spreadsheet is going to touch my heart. The first thing I’m doing when I hit Atlanta is blocking every single one of his contacts.” Aaron scoffed. “Tell her to hide her office address well, too. Otherwise, when she gets fired, she’ll still need me to ship her luggage back.” And just like that, they were off again. Back in our sophomore year before the state debate tournament, I was doubled over with crippling stomach pain, yet I still ran back and forth four times to manage their logistics. When they won, Aaron hung the gold medal around my neck, pulling me into a tight hug. “Our Nora is the real MVP. Without you, the two of us would have fallen apart ages ago.” I used to think being “important” meant being cherished. Looking back now, I was more like a wooden shim wedged under a wobbly table leg. Unnoticed when things were stable, but the moment I was pulled away, the whole table would collapse. Aaron peeled another shrimp and held it to my lips. “Still pouting?” I turned my face away. He didn’t get angry. Instead, he draped his arm casually over the back of my chair, leaning in close with a dropped voice. “Alright, my bad. How long do you want me to coax you today? Is half an hour enough? If not, I’ll extend the timer.” The others at the table chuckled, teasing that Aaron always knew how to handle me. His thumb brushed lightly over my earlobe. “It’s just New York. Once you get settled, I’ll come visit you.” For a fraction of a second, I almost let myself be swayed again. The next moment, he pushed the thick envelope back into my arms. “Give this to Judith before you leave. Just don’t let her know I was the one who forced it on her.” I placed the envelope firmly back in front of him. “Give it to her yourself.” He raised an eyebrow. “Jealous again?” “No.” “Then what’s with the attitude? She and I have known each other for four years. Busting each other’s strategist balls is just how we talk. If I actually had feelings for her, would you even be sitting here?” He spoke with such breezy confidence, making it seem as though I were the one with the filthy mind. I didn’t bother arguing. “Aaron, let’s break up.” The smile on his face froze for a fraction of a second before he leaned back into his chair with a lazy smirk. “Using a breakup to scare me on graduation night? You really know how to pick your timing.” “I’m not trying to scare you.” “Right, sure you’re not.” He picked up my water glass, took a sip, and set it down. “I’ll give you three days to cool off. Three days later, I’ll come to New York to pick you up. Just don’t end up crying that I didn’t come running.” Judith let out a dramatic gag from across the table. “Could you two flex your romance somewhere else?” Aaron casually crumpled a napkin and tossed it at her. When I stood up, he merely raised his eyes, covering the untouched shrimp in my bowl and sliding it aside. He looked completely certain that after taking a walk to cool my head, I would come crawling right back. I grabbed my bag and walked out of the restaurant. Behind me, the laughter didn’t miss a single beat. The following afternoon, the debate team assembled at the main auditorium for their final graduation yearbook photo shoot. The advisor had called me, reminding me that since I had organized every piece of debate material over the last three years, the final page of the book couldn’t be complete without me. When I arrived, Aaron and Judith were on stage recording a video segment titled “Partners Ten Years Later.” The host asked if they would ever stand on the same debate stage again after graduation. Judith rolled her eyes. “Only if the organizer pays me double my appearance fee.” Aaron leaned against the podium, chuckling. “If she doesn’t get fired after moving to Atlanta, I might generously grant her one chance.” Not a single kind word left his mouth, yet the commemorative album in his hands was crammed with dense handwriting. Atlanta. New York. Miami. Seattle. He had marked years next to five different cities, declaring they would meet once a year to see who had turned out more successful. Judith snatched the notebook away, complaining about his ugly handwriting, and added a line at the bottom: Whoever flakes first is a coward. The crowd cheered, calling them the ultimate power duo, destined to bicker for another decade even after college. Aaron turned, spotted me in the aisle, and gestured with his chin. “You came just in time. Take a picture for us.” Through the camera viewfinder, Judith held the trophy while Aaron stood close beside her. They pretended to look disgusted with each other, yet both instinctively leaned an inch closer toward one another. After the shot, he walked over and handed me the album. My message section was completely blank. “You didn’t write anything?” I asked softly. “We’re not breaking up, so why write a goodbye?” He adjusted my graduation cap, his smile warm and close. “You’re not like her. She’s the type to vanish into thin air. If I don’t keep her on a leash, she’ll pretend she doesn’t know me by next year. But you’re my girlfriend. We have all the time in the world.” “Do you remember what day my job orientation starts?” I asked. Aaron’s hand froze on my shoulder. “Next week?” “The day after tomorrow.” A flicker of awkwardness crossed his eyes, but he quickly smoothed it over with a light laugh. “What’s the difference between two days earlier or later? Just send me your address when you arrive, and I’ll ship your things to you.” “I’m leaving tomorrow.” “I know.” He glanced back toward Judith. “Her train is at ten-twenty. Once I see her off, I’ll head straight over to find you.” I didn’t bother reminding him that my train was at seven-forty. Three years ago, he had also told me that we had all the time in the world. So my birthday could always be celebrated another day. Our couple photos could be taken next time. The things I wanted to say could wait until he finished his work. Only Judith’s matches, Judith’s arguments, and Judith’s departures required his immediate, undivided attention. The photographer called out, urging everyone to line up. Just as I stepped in front of the backdrop, Judith shouted from the stage, “Aaron, we need to re-record the last line. You said New York instead of Atlanta just now.” The photographer checked his watch. “If we don’t shoot now, the hall lights are going off.” “Just five minutes!” Aaron called back. He squeezed my hand gently. “Wait for me.” He hurried back onto the stage. Judith complained that his voice sounded like he was reading a eulogy. He retorted that her pronunciation sounded like she was still learning English. They argued over lines, then over stage placement. By the time they finished recording, half the ceiling lights in the hall had already been turned off. The photographer packed up his camera, giving me an apologetic look. “Looks like the couple shots will have to wait for another day.” Only then did Aaron walk over. “We can just shoot at the train station tomorrow.” I looked at him. “Aren’t you seeing Judith off?” “Then the three of us will take it together,” he said, taking it for granted. It turned out that even our graduation photos needed to reserve a spot for her. Aaron reached out to wrap an arm around my waist, but I stepped back, dodging his touch. The smile faded from his face. “Still not over it?” “We broke up.” “Nora.” His voice dropped into a warning register. “I’m giving you an exit ramp, so take it. Don’t actually throw away three years of a relationship over a temper tantrums.” I gave no answer. I simply handed the camera back to the advisor. In the very last photo stored on the memory card, Aaron and Judith stood together beside the album filled with plans for the future. I was completely outside the frame. On the night before departure, the debate team hosted a farewell livestream. The advisor mentioned it was our final official activity and asked if I could manage the control desk one last time. I agreed, wanting to put a clean, proper end to my four years here. Less than ten minutes into the stream, Judith abruptly changed her core argument mid-debate. Sitting on stage, Aaron countered with a smirk, but under the table, his fingers tapped twice against the wood. That was his old signal for me to patch through to his earpiece and soften his harsh words before they hit the live audience. This time, I didn’t switch on the mic. He tapped three times, his gaze darting toward the control desk. Judith looked in my direction as well, mouthing the words, “What is he saying?” I pulled off one side of my headphones, keeping my eyes glued to the broadcast timer. Without me smoothing over their sharp edges, the two of them were forced to confront each other directly in front of the camera. “Why did you change the script without telling me?” “Because your third point is completely flawed.” “Then why didn’t you mention it earlier?” “I sent it to you three times last night. You were too busy texting goodnight to whoever you were talking to.” Suppressed laughter broke out from the crew in the studio. Aaron’s face stiffened, but he had no choice but to push through. They bickered back and forth for two full minutes, yet somehow, they managed to carry the debate to its finish. It turned out they were perfectly capable of communicating directly. They had simply gotten used to having someone else do the heavy lifting for them. The final segment was titled “A Note to Your Partner Five Years From Now.” Aaron received his card. He muttered that there was nothing special to write, yet his pen moved rapidly across the paper. When you get to Atlanta, try to argue less with people. Take medicine when your stomach hurts, and don’t take unlicensed cabs after ten at night. If you can’t make it, tell me in advance so I can set aside time to laugh at you. Judith rolled her eyes, but the rims of her eyes turned red. Her note to Aaron contained a single sentence: Don’t turn into a slick, arrogant corporate jerk in five years, or I’ll call you out every single time I see you. The host chuckled, calling it the unique romance of a champion debate duo. When it came to partner messages, the microphone was passed to me. “Nora, why don’t you leave a note for Aaron too?” Aaron sat under the bright studio lights, looking at me with an amused arch of his brow. He probably expected me to say what I always said, that I would forever stand right behind him. I stayed silent for a moment. “Happy graduation.” The studio fell dead silent for a second. Aaron quickly laughed it off, smoothing over the awkwardness. “She’s shy. She’ll tell me the rest when we get home.” After the stream ended, team members exchanged parting gifts. Aaron pulled out a refurbished fountain pen and tossed it to Judith. “The one you broke during the finals. Take it, so you don’t look like you’re borrowing a pen every time you sign a document at your new job.” Judith caught it, her mouth as stubborn as ever. “As if I care.” I recognized that pen. To find the rare replacement nib for that discontinued model, Aaron had scoured the old city district for days, skipping dinner with me for a week straight. His gift to me was a travel neck pillow bought from the train station convenience store. The price tag was still hanging from the side. “New York is far. Use it to sleep on the way.” He clipped the neck pillow around my neck, leaning down to gently smooth my hair. “Don’t go saying I don’t care about you.” His eyes were incredibly gentle. I recalled the very first time I gave a presentation on stage. He had sat in the very last row, silently mouthing the words Look at me to steady my nerves. Those moments of genuine warmth were real, which was why I had found it so hard to walk away, time after time. A second later, he pressed a blister pack of stomach medicine into my palm. “Give this to Judith on your way out. She definitely forgot to pack any.” I unclipped the neck pillow, placing it back into his hands along with the medication. “She’s right outside the door. Hand it to her yourself.” Aaron frowned. “Nora, if you’re jealous, I can comfort you. But don’t throw a fit over practical matters.” “I’m not throwing a fit.” “Then what exactly do you want lately?” “A breakup.” He stared at me, the last trace of warmth vanishing from his eyes. “Do you really have to ruin everyone’s mood right when we’re graduating?” Judith’s voice called out from the hallway, urging him to hurry. Aaron closed his eyes briefly, shoving the neck pillow back into my arms. “Go back home first. Tomorrow morning, after I see her off, I’ll come straight to your place.” His tone softened into a placating plea. “You can punish me however you want then, alright?” I didn’t tell him that my train was leaving two hours earlier than Judith’s. The next morning at dawn, I wheeled my suitcase into the train station. With twenty minutes left before boarding, I spotted Aaron kneeling on the floor, helping Judith repack a suitcase jammed full of books. “Carrying this much scrap paper to Atlanta? Planning to wallpaper your apartment?” Judith nudged him with her shoe. “What do you know?” He looked up and saw me, immediately waving me over. “You came just in time. Tell her to ship these books instead.” Neither of them asked why I was pulling a suitcase of my own. The station intercom chimed, announcing that boarding had begun for the train to New York. I walked straight past them toward the gate. Aaron reached out and grabbed the handle of my luggage rod. “You’re leaving today?” “I told you multiple times.” He glanced up at the departure board, his forehead finally creasing. A moment later, he let out a short sigh. “Fine, go ahead first. Send me your address when you arrive, and tonight we’ll settle this breakup nonsense properly.” I pried his fingers off my luggage rod, taking out the keys to our rented apartment and placing them on top of the printed Atlanta guide. “The lease expires today. Go pick up your remaining things this afternoon.” Behind him, Judith called out, “Aaron! The zipper is stuck again!” He turned his head to shout back an insult, then looked at me. “Go through the gate first. Once I handle this, I’ll call you.” Believing I had finally stopped making a scene, he turned back to press down on Judith’s suitcase lid. As the automatic turnstile snapped shut behind me, the last thing I saw was the bend of his back as he leaned over her luggage. Half an hour later, Judith flipped through the guide pages and asked, “Where did Nora go?” The overhead station broadcast chimed at that exact moment. The train bound for New York had officially departed the station. Aaron stared up at the giant LED screen, the remaining composure on his face draining away inch by inch. He finally remembered that the screenshot of my ticket had been sitting in our chat history all along. The apartment keys resting on the guide slipped off and hit the floor with a sharp metallic clink. He bent down to pick them up as Judith asked him another question. Aaron didn’t hear a single word.

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1 After I slapped Genevieve’s boytoy, she had my entire family committed to a psychiatric hospital. I never dared cross her again. I cooked porridge for Landon’s stomach aches, waited on Genevieve hand and foot after she gave birth. When their child turned one month old, I finally begged her to release my family. Genevieve let out a mocking laugh. “Patrick, do you know how I met Landon?” My breath hitched. “Your sister and mother handed him to my bed. Patrick, he’s your maternal half-brother.” She slid her unlocked phone across the table. “They were never in an asylum. For three years, they’ve been right by Landon’s side.” On the screen, my mother and sister surrounded Landon and the newborn, radiant with joy I’d never seen before. My eyes burned crimson. My heart felt shredded by a rusty blade. Genevieve’s voice was cool. “You’ve been obedient these three years. Tell me what compensation you want.” She smirked. “Though you probably wouldn’t want it.” I wiped my tears, forced a smile. “Then compensate me with a hundred million dollars.” A wife like this, and relatives like them, I didn’t want any of them anymore. … Genevieve’s face froze in momentary shock. “What did you say?” I looked straight into her eyes, my voice trembling slightly. “Since you want to make it up to me, give me cash. I want a hundred million dollars. Not a single penny less.” The warmth in Genevieve’s eyes vanished, replaced by an icy glare. She suddenly scoffed, speaking directly toward the phone on the table. “Landon, looks like neither of us guessed right.” I hadn’t noticed that the screen had already been switched to a live video call. Landon appeared on camera with a smirk, looking at me with pure disdain. “Patrick, we made a bet on what kind of compensation you’d demand after finding out the truth.” “I bet you’d refuse the money and smash up the office in a violent rage. Genevieve bet you’d use this to threaten her into never divorcing you.” “As for Mom and Ann, one guessed you’d demand Genevieve ship me off to another country, while the other guessed you’d cut yourself to force her into submission.” He turned the camera to the side. My mother was cradling Genevieve’s baby, her face beaming with joy. But the moment her eyes met mine through the screen, every trace of warmth vanished from her features. “Patrick, I truly never expected you to open your mouth and demand money from Genevieve!” “Has the Sinclair family ever starved you or left you without clothes over the years? How did you become so vulgar and money-grubbing? You’re no different from those cheap male escorts selling themselves on the street!” My sister, Ann, gently stroked Landon’s hair, her eyes filled with fond affection. Yet when she turned toward the camera, her expression turned entirely cold. “Patrick, I know you’re upset.” “If you’re strapped for cash, I can transfer some to you. But you shouldn’t demand it from Genevieve.” “Landon and Genevieve are genuinely in love. They don’t owe you anything.” “Is that so?” I interrupted her, my eyes burning red. “Stealing my wife, taking away my mother and sister, destroying my marriage and my family. Toying with me for three years, tricking me into acting as their domestic servant… and you claim you don’t owe me anything?” Ann frowned in distaste. “Patrick, watch your mouth.” “We didn’t mean to trick you. You’ve always been stubborn and hot-tempered. If we hadn’t done this, how could you have ever accepted Landon?” “Genevieve has been in low spirits since giving birth. We were worried about postpartum depression, so we came up with this little game to cheer her up. Don’t take it to heart.” I pulled at the corners of my mouth, letting out a hollow laugh. “In that case, just give me the money. Mom gives me fifty million, you give me thirty million. I can keep acting for you guys and stay on as Landon’s nanny. How does that sound?” Ann’s face turned ash-grey. “Patrick, how much longer are you going to throw this embarrassing tantrum?” I sneered coldly. “It’s just a little pocket change. Surely the wealthy Guilford and Sinclair families can afford a tiny sum like that?” “Enough.” Genevieve swept a cold glance over me and pulled a set of documents from her desk drawer. “Landon has officially returned to the family fold. My child cannot be a bastard. Sign these divorce papers, and a hundred million dollars will be wired to your account immediately.” I looked at those few thin sheets of paper. Without a second of hesitation, I grabbed a pen and slashed my signature across the bottom. The way Genevieve looked at me instantly grew complex. “Do you really care about money that much? You never used to be like this…” Suppressing the excruciating, blade-like agony in my chest, I forced a careless, unbothered smile. “If I don’t take the money, what else could you possibly give me?” She stared at me intensely, her dark pupils unreadable. “Maybe you could beg me not to go through with the divorce.” “Patrick, if you just open your mouth and beg me, I’ll rip this agreement to pieces right now.” Beg her? I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper, memories of the months right after I discovered her affair with Landon rushing back. I had begged her countless times. I had even slit my wrists to force her to come home. Yet as my blood pooled across the floor, all I got in return was a single, disgusted line from her: Don’t do that next time. Landon faints at the sight of blood. “And then what?” I looked at her calmly, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “And then you’ll tell me this was just another one of your little bets, designed specifically to turn me into a laughingstock?” I let out a miserable laugh, my throat aching. “Genevieve, stop playing games with me.” “Haven’t you made enough of a fool out of me over the last three years?” A cold drop slid down my cheek. The tears I had fought so hard to hold back finally broke free. Genevieve instinctively reached out to wipe them away. For a fleeting second, a flash of genuine guilt flickered in the depths of her eyes. She let out a heavy sigh. “He’s still young and a bit willful. As his older brother, you should yield to him a little.” “Don’t worry. The position of Mrs. Guilford will always be saved for you. Marrying Landon is just a temporary measure so the baby can have a proper legal name.” She paused, adding with a touch of unease, “I’ll still give you the hundred million. Take the money, go travel for a while, and once I clean up this mess, we’ll remarry.” “That should satisfy you, shouldn’t it?” I lifted my face, forced a soft smile, and gave a faint nod. “Then book me a flight to Switzerland. We promised we’d visit the Alpine lakes together, didn’t we?” She visibly relaxed, pulling me into a tight embrace. “Alright. You go ahead first. Once everything is handled, I’ll fly over to join you.” “Patrick, wait for me.” I rested my head against her shoulder and didn’t utter another word. Deep down, I knew with absolute certainty that I would never wait for her again. Seeing that I had surrendered, Genevieve finally spoke again. “Hand over the keys to the main estate and move out for a while.” “Landon wants to move in. You know how sensitive he is. Pack your things thoroughly and leave nothing behind so it doesn’t ruin his mood.” “Besides, that house is old anyway after all these years. Don’t hold a grudge against him.” She cleared her throat, pulling a set of keys and a deed from her drawer. “I bought a new villa for you on the south side of town. Move your belongings over there first.” I remained silent, but my mind drifted back to the day we bought the main estate. We had designed the layout together, selected the curtain fabrics, picked out the artwork for the foyer, and agreed to keep two nursery rooms, one pink and one blue. She called it our love nest, hand-carving a wooden plaque to hang above the front gate that read Pine Crest Villa. Yet later on, she spent her nights intertwined with Landon in her office until dawn, leaving me alone in that hollow, echoing mansion. I pulled a faint smile and placed my set of keys into her palm. “It’s fine. New things are better anyway.” From now on, everything I owned would be brand new. Not just the house. After leaving the Guilford Building, I drove to the psychiatric facility alone. Over the past three years, I had pushed open those hospital doors dozens of times, watching my mother and sister play-act as mental patients on their beds while I sobbed until I nearly passed out. What they never knew was that I had met someone else in this place. I pushed open the door to a private room. Sunlight streamed through the window frames, illuminating a young girl sitting on the sill, staring into the distance. Her facial features were sharp and striking, exuding an air of cold, rebellious detachment. Strands of hair hung over her forehead, gilded in a soft golden glow by the afternoon light. If a local reporter were here, they might have recognized her as the youngest daughter of the Kingsley Shipping Empire, committed to the asylum years ago. I spoke softly. “I have the money now. I’m taking you out.” Genevieve had no idea that my true destination wasn’t Switzerland. It was Los Angeles. When I returned to the main estate to pack my bags, the house staff looked at me with strange, hesitant expressions. I stepped into the living room and immediately understood why. My personal belongings had been ripped out of the closets and dumped onto the floor in a chaotic pile. Landon was stepping down the grand staircase, dressed in a pristine, snow-white custom wedding tuxedo. I bit my lip, staring dead at him. He gathered the hem of his jacket and offered a smirk. “Brother, this is the custom wedding tux Genevieve designed for you years ago, right?” “Well, Genevieve gave it to me.” “She said your figure has completely gone to waste anyway and you can’t fit into it anymore. Letting me wear it is the best stroke of luck this suit could ever have.” He did a slow pirouette in the center of the room. “Look at me, brother. Does your suit fit me well? Do I look handsome?” The pure white fabric shimmered under the crystal chandelier like a dream. Landon’s face was flushed with triumph, arrogant and dripping with smug satisfaction. Years ago, Genevieve had pulled several all-nighters just to finish the design sketches for that suit. When I tried it on for the first time, she had wrapped her arms around me and whispered: Patrick, this is a one-of-a-kind piece, crafted for the one-of-a-kind man in my life. The words still echoed in my ears, but the person who spoke them had long since rotted. Landon didn’t realize that since I had thrown away Genevieve herself, I couldn’t care less about a meaningless piece of clothing. I let out a calm smile, slowly relaxing my clenched fists. “Landon, did nobody ever teach you that taking other people’s property requires payment?” “That tailored suit cost thirty million dollars. I expect the funds transferred to my bank account shortly.” Landon’s expression turned nasty in an instant. “You absolute parasite! You hogged Genevieve and stole my family for years, how dare you open your mouth to demand money!” Screaming, he raised his palm and lunged forward to strike me. I simply sidestepped half a pace. Landon tripped over his own long trousers and crashed heavily onto the marble floor. My mother and sister came hurtling down the stairs. “Landon! What happened?” Ann glared at me with fierce hatred. “Patrick! Did you lay a hand on Landon again?!” Before I could speak, a heavy, stinging slap cracked across my face. A burning, sharp pain spread across my left cheek. I looked at my mother in utter disbelief. Her face was flushed red with rage as she barked coldly, “I knew you were bitter and never truly accepted Landon, but how could you physically attack him?!” Landon whimpered, putting on a pitiful, tear-streaked face. “Mom, don’t be mad at Patrick. It’s not his fault. He said this suit costs thirty million, and if I don’t pay him, I have no right to wear it. But I don’t have that kind of money… He didn’t mean to push me…” He lifted his face with heartbreaking vulnerability. “It’s all my fault for being poor. Mom, Ann, if we give him the money, will he stop being angry with me?” My mother let out a furious snort, her rage boiling over. “Landon, you’re far too kind! Give this leech money? In his dreams! I should have known long ago that he’s just like his father, a greedy, shameless bastard who only cares about cash!” A sharp, searing pain shot through my chest. I cupped my burning cheek and stared at her. Her face was contorted with venomous hostility as she spat insult after insult. The loving mother facade she had maintained for decades shattered into dust right before my eyes. Ann stepped in, catching her by the arm. “Mom, don’t.” A faint, pathetic ember of hope flickered in the depths of my heart. Yet a second later, Ann spoke in a tone of absolute coldness. “If you push him too far, he might turn up to ruin Landon’s wedding.” “Since he craves money so badly, just throw it at him. Consider it a donation to a homeless beggar.” She pulled a metallic black card from her designer bag and tossed it casually at my feet, her voice laced with deep disgust. “There’s over thirty million in that account. Is that enough for you?” “Take the money and get out. Don’t ever show your face in front of Landon again.” I stared down at the black card belonging to the Sinclair family. The very last shred of attachment in my heart burned to ash. I slowly bent down, picked up the card, and let out a careless, unbothered smile. Looking at the ruined pile of my belongings scattered across the living room floor, I didn’t bother packing anymore. “Since Miss Sinclair is offering such a generous price, I’ll sell the whole lot to you.” I looked at her with venomous sarcasm. “Now that Miss Sinclair has formally claimed a new brother and a new stepmother, I certainly won’t stay around to eyesore you.” “From this day forward, I have zero relation to the Sinclair family!” I dug through the pile, pulled out my passport and legal IDs, and turned to walk toward the entrance. “Wait a minute!” Landon called out, his voice sharp and demanding. I paused, glancing back. “What now?” He sneered coldly. “Since you claims everything here is sold to me for thirty million, shouldn’t you leave one specific item behind?” I frowned, genuinely confused. He let out a nasty laugh. “You’re divorced from Genevieve now, aren’t you? Is it really appropriate for you to still be wearing that wedding band?” I looked down at the simple gold band wrapped around my ring finger, sudden realization hitting me. This ring was a gift Genevieve had given me when we first started dating. She had forged the matching pair herself, etching our names into the interior band. She used to say that gold was the most stable element in the physical world. Just like our love. Yet we both forgot that gold was also the softest metal. Given a little external pressure, it distorts beyond recognition. After ten years of entanglement with Genevieve, the ring had practically grown into my flesh, refusing to slide off. I tugged at it twice, but my knuckle was swollen. Reaching over to the console table, I grabbed a heavy pair of craft scissors and jammed the blade right under the gold band. Just as the metal snapped with a sharp click, a furious shout echoed from the front door. “Patrick! What the hell are you doing?!” The heavy scissors were ripped from my grip. Genevieve pulled me fiercely into her arms. “Are you trying to hurt yourself again?!” Her gaze dropped to the severed gold ring in my palm, and her voice cut off instantly. Her eyes filled with sheer disbelief. “You… you actually cut this ring? Why?!” “Genevieve, I’m the one who wanted that ring,” Landon cut in from the side. Genevieve finally registered Landon standing nearby. Landon’s face was sour, his fingers clutching his jacket hem tight. “Patrick sold everything to me for thirty million anyway. Genevieve, you made that ring with your own hands. I want to take it back. You don’t mind, do you?” Genevieve quickly released me, offering Landon a gentle, doting smile. “Landon, that style is outdated. If you like gold, I’ll forge a brand new pair for you.” Tears welled up in Landon’s eyes. “No, I want you to melt this specific ring down and craft a new one for me.” “You promised me that once our baby was born, you’d give me anything I asked for.” Genevieve fell silent for a few long seconds before nodding helplessly. “Alright.” A sarcastic smirk tugged at my lips. I pulled the broken gold band off my finger, tossed it onto the floor, and turned to leave. Landon called out yet again. “Patrick, you said you’re severing all ties with the Sinclair family. In that case, there’s one more thing you need to surrender.” He turned his tear-filled eyes toward the three women. “Mom, Ann, Genevieve… I’m a son of the Sinclair family now. I want to legally change my name and reclaim my place.” My mother nodded repeatedly. “Yes, returning to the family is a joyous occasion! I’ll consult a name master immediately to pick the luckiest name for you…” Landon cut her off. “Mom, I’ve already decided on my future name.” A cruel smile stretched across his lips. “I want to be named Patrick.” “So, brother, do me a favor and change your name to something else.” “Genevieve, this is my final request. You’ll make it happen for me, won’t you?” Patrick… was the name my late father gave me. It meant fair warrior. Genevieve knew the story behind my name. Yet after a brief moment of internal struggle, she opened her mouth anyway. “Patrick… just change your name to something else. I’ll pay you extra compensation for the trouble.” I pulled at the corner of my mouth and gave a calm nod. “Sure. As long as the cash hits my account.” Genevieve let out a massive sigh of relief. “I’ll have my assistant wire you another fifty million right away.” An hour later, Genevieve’s legal team escorted me to the city registry office to execute the legal name change. Standing outside on the sidewalk, I held my brand-new identification card up to the sky, letting out a soft smile. My name, my old identity, my past love… I had thrown all of it away. From this moment on, I belonged only to true freedom. At the airport terminal, Genevieve called my phone. “Patrick… once you finish with the registry, head over to the south-side villa first. I’ve had the movers drop off some new furniture.” “Landon was just throwing a childish tantrum. Once things settle down, I’ll make him change his name back. Don’t hold it against him.” I gave a faint, agreeable hum and hung up the phone. A text from a real estate agent popped up on my screen: Mr. Holloway, the south-side villa has been sold according to your instructions. The buyer was thrilled with the below-market price and wired the full cash amount immediately. Please verify the receipt. I replied with a quick confirmation, checked the astronomical balance in my bank account, popped out the SIM card, and dropped it into a terminal trash bin. Turning around, I smiled gently at the young girl beside me. “Let me know when you’re ready. Our flight is boarding.”

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1 I listed my custom leather wedding shoes online at a steep discount. The buyer asked why, since the soles still had their protective film. I stared at the glossy black calfskin and let out a dry laugh. “Because someone else wore them for an Instagram post.” Yesterday, the shoemaker called saying my wedding shoes were ready. Running a fever, I rushed over, only to hear familiar laughter from the fitting area. Amelia was kneeling, tying the laces for Seth. Stamped in gold foil on the inner soles were my name and our wedding date, shoes I’d worked three months of overtime to afford. Seth stood there in my shoes, eyes red. “Nathan, please don’t blame Amelia. I begged her.” Amelia stepped in front of him. “Seth just went through a breakup. He’s emotionally fragile. They’re just shoes, Nathan. Don’t make things difficult.” My phone buzzed. A mutual friend had commented on Seth’s post: Whoa, thought you two were getting married! Those shop shoes are one of a kind. Seth hadn’t corrected them, just replied with a blushing emoji. Staring at that, I suddenly didn’t want the shoes anymore. Or the wedding. In front of the shop assistant, I swiped my card to settle the balance and listed the shoes online. I was done playing my part in a one-man show called a wedding. … The lights in the boutique were blindingly bright. Standing near the entrance of the fitting zone, my forehead was burning, yet I recognized those shoes instantly. The curvature of the shoe last was something I had modified three times. The material was black Italian calfskin I personally selected. Even the small line of gold lettering inside the sole was something I double-checked myself. Nathan & Amelia. June 16th. Now, they were wrapped around Seth’s feet. Amelia was half-kneeling in front of him, holding the laces, her voice soft and soothing. “Don’t bend over so much, your back isn’t fully healed yet.” Her tone was so tender. So tender that it reminded me of the text I sent her this morning, telling her I had a fever and asking if she could pick me up. She had replied: Busy today, let us talk later. It turned out her “later” meant accompanying another man to try on my wedding shoes. The clerk spotted me first, her face turning pale. “Mr. Nathan…” Amelia finally turned around. She was still holding my shoehorn, a flicker of panic darting across her eyes. “Nathan? Why are you here early?” I leaned against the doorframe, my throat dry and aching. “Am I not allowed to be here?” Seth immediately tried to bend down and tear the shoes off, his eyes turning watery. “Nathan, please don’t misunderstand. It’s all my fault.” “I saw how gorgeous these shoes were and just wanted to try them on. Amelia said no at first, but I insisted…” Amelia frowned and cut him off. “Don’t rush, sit still.” She turned back to me, lowering her voice. “Seth has been in a terrible place mentally these past few days. Don’t embarrass him in front of everyone.” I looked at her. I hadn’t said a single word yet. And yet, she had already framed me as the aggressor. I walked over and ran my finger lightly across the leather. A subtle crease had formed near the toe cap. There was a faint scent of woody cologne on them, a scent that didn’t belong to me. The clerk tried to break the awkward silence. “Mr. Nathan, Miss Amelia came with you before, so we assumed she could confirm the fit on your behalf.” “Plus, she mentioned you had a fever and couldn’t make it, but wanted to check the final effect first, so we…” I looked up. “She said that?” Amelia avoided my gaze. “I just thought Seth’s shoe size was close to yours, so seeing them on him would give us a good reference.” A reference. My wedding shoes, my wedding, and I hadn’t even tried them on yet, but another man was already serving as my reference. Seth whispered, “Nathan, I’m truly sorry. Let me take them off right now.” He reached down, but suddenly grabbed the back of the chair, his face going pale. Ever since that company gala accident three years ago, Amelia had carried a deep sense of guilt toward him. Amelia instantly reached out to support him. “Take it easy.” Her movement was so natural, as if it had been rehearsed a thousand times. My phone buzzed again. I looked down to see a screenshot sent by a mutual friend. Seth had just posted on Instagram. In the photo, only the lower half of his trousers and the wedding shoes were visible, alongside a woman’s hand resting near the laces. The caption read: Turns out when you put on wedding shoes, you really don’t want to wake up. Comments were already rolling in: Seth, you and Amelia? I thought you were the groom! You guys look so perfect together. Seth replied: Don’t guess around, guys. Someone will get upset. I held the phone in front of Amelia. Her face darkened, but her first instinct was not to apologize. “Nathan, who sent you this screenshot? People are just joking around.” “Do you find it funny?” She choked on her words. Tears streamed down Seth’s face. “I will delete it right now. I really didn’t mean anything by it.” “I was just so envious that you have a wedding coming up, that you have Amelia, and that you have a home.” He cried so softly, so helplessly. Amelia’s brow furrowed tightly. “Nathan, he already apologized!” I suddenly laughed. “He wears my wedding shoes, posts online to let everyone misunderstand, and somehow I am the one being unreasonable?” Amelia parted her lips. “That is not what I meant.” Yet the look in her eyes said otherwise. She thought I ought to be sensible, that I should just swallow this bitter pill. The clerk asked tentatively, “Mr. Nathan, should we still do the final fitting for you today?” I said, “No need.” Amelia breathed a sigh of relief, assuming I was finally letting it go. “Let us head home first. You look awful.” I pulled out my credit card. “I will settle the balance. I am taking the shoes.” She froze. “Are you out of your mind? We have our wedding photoshoot scheduled for the day after tomorrow.” I offered no response. When the card reader chimed to confirm payment, a strange hollowness filled my chest. It wasn’t reluctance. It was the complete erasure of my very last shred of hope. That evening after returning home, I placed the shoes on the bed and snapped a photo. The listing title on Poshmark was brief: Brand-new custom wedding shoes, tried on once, selling cheap. A buyer messaged me almost instantly. They look stunning, why are you selling them? I stared at the chat box for a long time before replying: They don’t fit me. Right after, I canceled the booking for the wedding photos and the styling appointments. Amelia pushed open the door and walked in. She was carrying fever medication and a cup of warm milk tea. “Still mad?” She set the items on the coffee table, sat beside me, and reached out to touch my forehead. I leaned away. Her hand froze in midair. “Nathan, Seth already deleted the post.” “He just went through a breakup, and his back injury flared up from that old accident. I just wanted to cheer him up a bit.” I looked up at her. “Did you know I had a fever today?” Amelia stunned. She probably finally remembered the message I sent her in the morning. Amelia wasn’t like this in the beginning. When we first started dating, she remembered that I hated onions, she picked me up from work, and whenever my stomach issues flared up, she made sure I had warm water. Later, after Seth’s accident, her memory seemed to be reallocated, gradually squeezing out every detail that belonged to me. She stayed silent for a few seconds before lowering her voice. “Haven’t I brought you medicine now?” I looked at the milk tea. “I don’t drink milk tea when I have a fever.” Her face went pale. She used to know that. Now, her memory was occupied entirely by Seth, whether his back could handle standing, whether he was exposed to cold winds, or whether he was getting overly emotional. Her phone lit up. Seth sent a voice message. She instinctively tapped it open. “Amelia, my back hurts a little. Did I stand too long earlier? Please don’t tell Nathan, he seemed really upset.” Amelia panicked and cut off the audio. Silence fell over the room. I looked down at my screen and lowered the price of the shoes by another three hundred dollars. Amelia finally noticed the app on my screen. “You are selling the wedding shoes?” “Yes.” “Nathan, stop throwing a tantrum.” I met her eyes. “Amelia, I am not throwing a tantrum.” “These shoes are dirty.” The next morning, my fever subsided a little. I heard Amelia talking on the phone in the living room. “He is fine, just making a mountain out of a molehill.” “The wedding is still on. Don’t tell my mom, I don’t want her worrying.” I couldn’t hear what the person on the other end said, but her voice softened. “Seth, don’t cry. You didn’t do it on purpose yesterday. Nathan is usually very easygoing.” Standing by the bedroom door, I felt an urge to laugh. Easygoing. So that was my greatest virtue all these years. I didn’t step outside. Instead, I turned around, opened the closet, and began pulling out every wedding-related document one by one. The venue contract, vendor quotes, photographer deposit receipts, gift sample invoices, and the guest list. Every single paper bore my handwriting. Amelia used to say, “You make the calls on these things, I trust you.” Back then, I thought that was trust. Only now did I realize it was simply convenience. At the dining table, she pushed a bowl of porridge toward me. “Eat a bit. I need to take Seth for his follow-up checkup this morning. I will come back this afternoon to look over the invitations with you.” The porridge was sprinkled with chopped scallions. I couldn’t stand the smell of scallions when recovering from a fever. She used to know. I didn’t pick up the spoon. “Isn’t today the day we confirm the complete wedding timeline?” Amelia checked her phone. “The timeline can be confirmed anytime, but his medical checkup cannot be delayed.” Cannot be delayed, yet again. Our wedding could be delayed. My wedding shoes could be worn by someone else. My fever could wait until later. Only Seth’s matters were always placed at the very front of the line. I asked her, “Amelia, how many times have you actually participated in planning our wedding?” She frowned. “Do you really have to bring up old scores right now?” “Are these old scores?” She set her phone face down on the table, her tone carrying a hint of exhaustion. “Nathan, Seth’s back injury happened because of me.” “Three years ago, when the backdrop collapsed at the annual gala, he pushed me out of the way and ruined his back.” “Is there something wrong with me taking care of him a little?” I knew about that incident. Three years ago, Seth shielded her from an accident. Ever since then, every time his back hurt, she rushed to his side. Every time he felt insecure, she stayed with him. In the beginning, I felt sorry for him too. I accompanied him to the hospital, helped him get specialist appointments, and even bought him lumbar supports and heating pads. Only later did I realize that the debts of gratitude Amelia owed him were ultimately deducted from my account. Before leaving, Amelia poured a glass of water for me. “Stop overthinking things. The wedding will happen as planned, I won’t miss it.” Once the door clicked shut, I tapped open my phone calendar. The note for today read: 10:00 AM. Confirm final wedding timeline. I tapped delete. Then I opened a spreadsheet. Shoe balance, venue deposit, wedding planner prepayments, photography deposit, invitation design fee, gift sample costs. I entered every single amount. Most of this money had come out of my pocket. Amelia had mentioned her project bonuses were delayed and asked me to cover the costs first. At the time, I believed we were about to become husband and wife, so there was no need to keep strict accounts. Now I understood that by not keeping score, I ended up losing myself without even realizing it. Around noon, a message popped up in the family group chat. Amelia’s mother shared a health article. Seth has a bad back, make sure his seat at the wedding isn’t directly under the air conditioner. She quickly added another line: Nathan is so capable, you should take care of these small details. Nobody asked how my body was doing. Nobody knew I had a fever yesterday. I stared at the words Nathan is so capable, feeling a cold chill in my heart. I opened the wedding seating arrangement. The notes for Seth’s table were meticulous: Avoid air vents, close to the exit, soft cushion for chair back, low spice menu. Beside my own name, there were only two words: The Groom. Seth was fragile, so everyone felt compelled to protect him. I was sensible, so I was expected to be the carpet everyone walked on. That night, I sent a message to the wedding planner. Let us meet tomorrow. The wedding might be called off. The planner responded immediately. Mr. Nathan, does Miss Amelia know about this? I replied: My name is the only one on the contract. There is no need to notify her. This wedding was planned by me alone from start to finish. Now, it was only fitting that I cancel it alone. On the third day, Amelia agreed to accompany me to the hotel for the menu tasting. This time, I didn’t send her a reminder. At five in the afternoon, her text arrived right on cue. Seth has a sudden back flare-up, I am driving him home first. Can you handle the menu tasting yourself? I looked at the line of text and replied with a simple ok. Then, I went to the hotel by myself. The banquet manager looked embarrassed when he saw me walking in alone. “Is Miss Amelia not coming?” “She is busy.” The manager didn’t push further and handed me the menu. Twelve dishes, every single one picked by me to suit both sets of parents’ preferences. Amelia’s mother didn’t eat cilantro. Her father had high blood sugar, so desserts needed to be low-sugar. Amelia had a sensitive stomach, so warm soup was necessary. Even for Seth, I had made notes regarding his dietary restrictions. The manager flipped through the notes and smiled. “Mr. Nathan is truly attentive, even making special notes for Mr. Seth’s back condition and meals.” Staring at those words, I suddenly felt a surge of absurdity. I had taken care of a person who had no place in this wedding. Yet the other protagonist of this wedding couldn’t even manage to accompany me for a menu tasting. Halfway through the tasting, familiar voices echoed from outside the private room. I looked up and saw Amelia supporting Seth as they walked in, accompanied by a few mutual friends. Someone noticed me and waved cheerfully. “Nathan is here too? Perfect, let us eat together!” Amelia froze for a second. “Why are you here?” I set my chopsticks down. “Menu tasting.” A flash of embarrassment crossed her face. The manager added, “Miss Amelia booked a private room downstairs earlier, I thought she was confirming details with you.” Seth lowered his head first. “I am so sorry, Nathan. I suddenly craved the food here, so Amelia brought me along. I had no idea you had an appointment today.” A friend tried to smooth things over. “We are all friends, no need to make it tense. Seth isn’t feeling well, Nathan won’t mind, right?” I offered a slight smile. “I don’t mind.” I had minded for so many years and no one ever cared. Of course I wouldn’t start now. Amelia sat down right next to Seth. When the waiter served a plate of sweet lotus root, Seth barely wrinkled his nose before she immediately asked, “Is it too sweet?” He nodded. Amelia instantly instructed the server to replace it with a low-sugar version. I coughed three times during the meal, and she didn’t look up once. A friend brought up the wedding schedule. Amelia said, “Nathan handled everything, I don’t really know much about the details.” Someone remarked with envy, “You are so lucky to marry such a capable husband.” Amelia smiled gently. “He is indeed very capable.” I lowered my head and drank my water. Sometimes, the word capable doesn’t sound like praise. It sounds like a sentence. As the meal neared its end, the manager walked in holding a final script for the itinerary. “Mr. Nathan, shall we confirm this final flow as well?” I took it. The first few items were standard: welcoming guests, grand entrance, vows, ring exchange, tea ceremony. Until item number seven, where my eyes locked. Special Tribute Segment: Seth presents flowers on stage, escorted personally by the bride, Amelia. A note was attached below: Due to Mr. Seth’s back injury, position him close to the bride. Omit from the groom’s version of the document, arrange spontaneously on site. I stared at the words Omit from the groom’s version for a long time. Amelia’s expression shifted instantly. She reached out, trying to grab the sheet. “Nathan, that is not what you think.” I pulled the paper back. “Then what is it?” Seth stammered in panic, “It’s not like that! Your mom said she wanted me to present flowers that day to express gratitude for saving Amelia back then. I was afraid you would overthink it, so I suggested keeping it quiet for now.” A short laugh escaped my throat. My wedding. His flower presentation, her hand supporting him, her mother’s gratitude. And I, the groom, turned out to be the very last person to know. Our friends fell quiet. Amelia lowered her voice. “It is just a tiny segment, it won’t affect the wedding.” I looked at her. “What would affect the wedding, then?” Her throat worked, but no sound came out. I laid the itinerary back onto the table. “Manager, cancel the banquet.” The manager was stunned. “Mr. Nathan, are you certain? If you cancel now, the deposit is non-refundable, and there will be a cancellation fee.” I nodded. “Deduct it.” Amelia stood up abruptly. “Nathan, don’t act on impulse!” I picked up my coat, my voice perfectly level. “Amelia, I am not acting on impulse.” “I have simply realized who this wedding was actually planned for.” Leaving the hotel, I drove straight to the wedding planner’s office. The coordinator seemed to have caught wind of something already, standing up nervously as I walked in. “Mr. Nathan, regarding the script, it was a miscommunication on our end…” I cut her off. “Bring out all the display materials.” On the main poster, Amelia and I stood against a backdrop of white flowers. She smiled softly, and I was smiling too. That photo was taken on the day of our engagement. Less than half an hour after the shot was taken, Seth complained of a stomachache, and she left early. I was left sitting alone at the restaurant, waiting for the staff to box up our engagement cake. The coordinator hesitantly handed over a video proposal script. “This is a pre-ceremony warm-up video Miss Amelia asked us to insert.” I took it. There was a line of text inside: Special thanks to Mr. Seth, who stepped forward during Miss Amelia’s moment of danger. On the next page were notes for editing materials: Include footage of Mr. Seth trying on the wedding shoes to enhance the emotional atmosphere. I looked up. “Footage of him trying on the shoes?” The coordinator’s face turned pale. “Miss Amelia said the camera would only capture the lower legs and shoes from behind without revealing his face, purely as atmospheric footage.” My fingers tightened on the paper. So it wasn’t just wearing them. It wasn’t just the social media post. She was actually planning to play a clip of Seth wearing my wedding shoes during our wedding warm-up video. I closed the script. “Shut everything down.” The coordinator asked cautiously, “What about Miss Amelia’s side…” “My name is the only one on the contract.” She fell silent immediately. I swiped my card to pay off the cancellation penalty. The balance in my bank account dropped significantly. Yet I felt no regret. Money spent could be earned back. Six years squandered on the wrong person were gone forever. On my way home, someone bought the shoes on Poshmark. The buyer was an out-of-town girl who said she was getting married next month on a tight budget. She wanted to buy a decent pair of shoes for her fiancé and asked if I could cover shipping. I agreed. She asked again: Have these really only been tried on once? Staring at the screen, I paused for a moment before replying: Yes. They just don’t belong to me anymore. When I arrived home, Amelia wasn’t back yet. I retrieved the shoes from their dust bag. They sat quietly inside the box, looking impeccably handsome. I used to imagine countless times walking toward Amelia while wearing them. Looking back now, that path was never a red carpet. It was a set of stairs I laid down all by myself. The doorbell rang. I opened it to find Seth standing there. He held a box of cooling fever patches, an apologetic expression plastered across his face. “Nathan, I came to apologize.” I didn’t invite him in. He stood in the doorway, his eyes reddening. “I really didn’t do it on purpose. Regarding that segment in the script, I planned to explain it to you after the wedding.” I stared at him. “After the wedding?” His face stiffened. “I was just worried you would misunderstand. Amelia’s mother said everyone knows about what happened back then, so expressing thanks at the wedding would make Amelia look graceful and loyal.” Graceful and loyal, what a lovely phrase. Using my wedding to showcase her grace and loyalty. I asked, “What about the Instagram post?” He bit his lip. “I was just so jealous of you. You have the wedding shoes, you have the wedding, you have Amelia. I have nothing.” A cold chuckle escaped me. “So you wore my wedding shoes and posted it online for everyone to guess?” Tears fell from his eyes. “I didn’t want to steal anything from you, I am just used to her taking care of me.” That phrase overlapped perfectly with countless excuses Amelia had made in the past. Used to it. Turns out the scariest thing isn’t malice. It’s when everyone gets used to expecting me to step back. I pushed the fever patches back into his hand. “You came to the wrong person.” Seth froze. “What do you mean?” “Her taking care of you is between the two of you. Whether you want to express gratitude, carry guilt, or fulfill each other’s lives, that is all your business.” I looked him dead in the eye, pronouncing every word clearly: “Do not use my wedding as a monument for your bond.” Seth’s face went completely pale. Though he kept offering apologies, his eyes drifted past me to the shoe box resting inside the room. “Nathan, you aren’t actually giving up on the wedding, are you? Amelia will be devastated if she finds out.” I said, “Then let her be devastated for once.” I had been devastated so many times, and nobody ever died from it. After shutting the door, I boxed up the shoes. Just as the courier arrived to pick up the package, Amelia walked through the door. Her eyes landed on the parcel, and her face shifted dramatically. “What is that?” “The wedding shoes.” She lunged forward, pressing her hands against the box. “You actually sold them?” “Yes.” “Nathan, how long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum?” I looked up at her. “Amelia, the wedding banquet is canceled, and the planners have been dismissed.” The anger on her face froze instantly. “What did you say?” I placed a stack of cancellation receipts onto the coffee table. “I paid the penalty fees. I will calculate our shared expenses properly, and your portion will be returned to you in full.” Amelia stared at me, panic finally breaking through her eyes. “Nathan, we are supposed to get married.” I said, “Not anymore.”

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Reborn back to the day of my wedding, the officiant stood at the altar, asking if I would take Frank Montgomery as my lawful husband. I glanced down at Cassie, sitting in the third row in a knock-off replica of my wedding gown, tears streaming dramatically down her face. I offered a faint smile, took a step back, and spoke clearly into the microphone. “I do not.” Frank’s face darkened instantly. He grabbed my arm and hissed under his breath, warning me not to throw a pathetic scene on today of all days. In my past life, I endured everyone’s ridicule and forced my way into marrying him. What did it get me? Ten years of emotional abuse, cold shoulders, and him staying out night after night while I was pregnant. When I was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer, rolling in unbearable agony on my hospital bed without even a sip of water, he cut off my medical funds just to buy Cassie a limited-edition designer handbag. As I drew my final breath, he stood beside my bed, looking down at me with pure disgust. “If you had been generous enough at our wedding to step aside, Cassie wouldn’t have succumbed to severe depression, and you wouldn’t be facing this divine retribution.” 1 “Haven’t you thrown enough of a tantrum?” Frank’s fingers clamped down hard around my wrist. He lowered his voice, delivering his warning through gritted teeth so only the two of us could hear. “My entire family is sitting right down there watching us. Do you really have to embarrass me in front of everyone?” I lowered my eyes, staring at the very hand that had ruthlessly pulled out my IV tube in my past life. With a sharp jerk, I yanked my arm free and unpinned the flashy corsage from my dress. “I said, the wedding is canceled.” A chorus of shocked whispers rippled through the venue. Cassie stood up from her seat in the third row. The dress she wore was almost an exact replica of my main bridal gown in lace pattern and cut, lacking only the long, sweeping train. “Ivy, it is all my fault,” Cassie sobbed, covering her mouth as tears spilled over her cheeks. Her fragile shoulders trembled violently, making her look like the victim of a grave injustice. “I shouldn’t have come to your wedding. I just wanted to see Frank one last time, I really didn’t mean anything else.” The moment the words left her mouth, she spun around and bolted recklessly toward a thick marble pillar in the hall. “Cassie!” Frank dropped me without a second thought and sprinted down the altar steps. A split second before she slammed into the pillar, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her tightly into his chest. The entire crowd of Montgomery relatives swarmed them in an instant. Someone handed her tissues, someone patted her back, and others offered soft, soothing words of comfort. I stood completely alone on the stage. Behind me, the massive LED screen continued to play a loop of our seaside wedding photos. In those pictures, Frank smiled with gentle affection, yet in reality, he was cradling another woman in his arms, his eyes overflowing with heartbreak. Frank’s mother shoved her way through the crowd and stormed up the altar steps. “Ivy! How can you be so utterly malicious? Cassie suffers from severe depression, and you can’t even show a shred of tolerance for a sick person?” I looked at her with cold indifference. “If she is sick, she should be in a hospital. What is she doing throwing a dramatic episode at my wedding?” Enraged by my defiance, Frank’s mother trembled, slapping her palm heavily onto the champagne tower table next to us. “Let me tell you something! You are getting married today whether you like it or not! The invitations were sent, the banquet is paid for, and you think you can just walk away? Where do you think the Montgomery family puts its dignity?” She gritted her teeth, dropping her voice to deliver a threat. “If you dare step off this stage today, I will go to your parents’ workplace tomorrow and make sure every single one of their colleagues sees what kind of daughter they raised!” The harsh scrape of chairs echoed from the bride’s side of the room. My parents walked up the steps with grim expressions, positioning themselves to shield me from both sides. My mother’s eyes were bloodshot as she grasped my hand with all her strength. “Our family was never worthy of yours anyway. We are not going through with this marriage. Ivy, come home with Mom.” She turned to lead me off the stage. However, several senior relatives from Frank’s side moved swiftly to block the center of the red carpet aisle. They crossed their arms, looking down at us with arrogant sneers. “Now hold on a second. We paid the dowry, and our family covered the banquet costs. You think you can just turn around and leave? Do you take the Montgomery family for a charity?” At that moment, Cassie raised her head from Frank’s chest. Her eyes were red, and her voice sounded agonizingly delicate. “Frank, please don’t blame Ivy. As long as she agrees to marry you, I promise I will never see you again.” Heartbroken, Frank gently wiped her tears away. He turned his head toward me, his gaze brimming with irritation. “Ivy, Cassie has already compromised this much. Apologize to her right now, and we can still finish this ceremony.” I looked at his self-righteous face, raised my hand, and ripped the heavy, diamond-encrusted veil straight off my head. The veil pulled away a few strands of hair, and without a moment’s hesitation, I tossed it right at Frank’s feet. “Whoever wants to marry trash can have him. I am out.” 2 “Ivy, do you really have to push things to the absolute limit?” Inside the bridal suite, my bridesmaid, Hannah, was helping me unpin the complicated hair accessories from my head. Outside the door, the muffled voices of Frank’s aunts drifted in. “That girl is far too dramatic. It’s just a dress that looks a bit similar, was it really worth making such a scene?” “Exactly, so utterly sensible-free. Cassie is much better, sweet and thoughtful, unlike her aggressive behavior.” “If it weren’t for her birth chart matching Frank’s so well for fortune, who would tolerate such a terrible temper?” Hannah was so furious she wanted to open the door and confront them, but I placed a hand over hers to stop her. Suddenly, the dressing room door was pushed open from the outside. Frank strode in, reaching back to click the lock shut behind him. He loosened his tie with a scowl. “Haven’t you made enough of an embarrassment out of us outside? Get out there right now and finish the rest of the schedule.” He commanded me as if I were nothing more than a subordinate throwing an irrational fit. “Cassie is emotionally fragile, and the doctor said she cannot handle stress. As a normal person, why do you insist on picking a fight with someone who is sick?” Looking at his entitled reflection in the vanity mirror, I found it absurdly laughable. “If you care about her so much and can’t bear to see her suffer, why don’t you just marry her yourself?” Frank froze, seemingly caught off guard by my direct question. He fell silent for a moment. “Ivy, marriage is not a joke. The Montgomery family needs a dignified, emotionally stable daughter-in-law who can represent us properly, not a woman who breaks down at any given moment.” He took a step closer, reaching out to touch my shoulder. “All I can offer her is care, but the position of Mrs. Montgomery has always been reserved for you.” Disgusted, I dodged his hand and picked up my phone from the vanity table to make a call. Quick on his feet, Frank snatched the phone out of my hand, powered it off instantly, and shoved it deep into his suit pocket. “Are you insane? Who are you calling?” “After today, once we are back home, you can throw whatever fit you want and smash whatever you like. But right now, you will give the Montgomery family the respect it deserves.” A soft, muffled sob drifted from outside the door. Cassie’s trembling voice came through the thin wood panel. “Ivy, please don’t be mad at Frank. I really didn’t mean to ruin your wedding.” She sniffled, her tone painfully submissive. “I will go change into a bridesmaid dress right now, and I will stand in the dimmest corner to bless you two, alright?” Frank’s expression shifted instantly. Without a second thought, he let go of me, unlocked the door, and rushed outside. His soft, comforting murmurs to Cassie echoed down the hallway. I let out a cold laugh, reached into my spare handbag, and pulled out a secondary phone I usually reserved for work calls. Opening messaging, I dropped a location pin to my brother, Tyler, and attached three words. Come pick me up. Hannah helped me strip out of the suffocating bridal gown and put on a lightweight, casual outfit. When I pushed open the dressing room door and stepped out, the scene in the main hall was even more absurd. Cassie was already sitting comfortably at the head table. Frank’s mother had personally wrapped a bright red cashmere shawl around Cassie’s shoulders. The surrounding relatives hovered near, showering her with praises. “Cassie is so sensible. Taking on such a huge grievance yet still keeping the bigger picture in mind.” “Poor child, it breaks my heart just looking at her.” I ignored their little performance and walked straight toward the exit doors of the banquet hall. Before I could take three steps, Frank’s mother slammed a porcelain teacup onto the table with a loud crash. “Stop right there!” “Since you are out, you can start by serving the respect tea to your new mother-in-law. If you don’t drink this tea today, nobody steps out of this room.” 3 “In-laws, it’s just a small couple’s spat, why are you all fueling the fire?” Frank’s father stood up from the main table, holding a red gift list in his hand. On the stage, the officiant was sweating profusely while trying to smooth things over, announcing that the ceremony was temporarily paused for thirty minutes due to unexpected circumstances. The two massive exit doors of the banquet hall were already guarded firmly by several young male relatives from Frank’s side. My father was shaking with rage, pulling out his phone to dial the police. Seeing this, Frank’s father walked over without any rush and slapped the red gift list onto the table right in front of my father. “Calling the cops? Go right ahead. Let the officers see that we paid for the banquet, transferred the dowry money into your account, and put gold jewelry on your daughter. If this gets out of hand, who ends up looking bad?” “Your family holds a decent reputation in this city. Don’t ruin your own dignity over a young girl’s fleeting temper.” Frank pulled my phone out of his pocket and handed it back to me. His tone softened slightly, carrying a condescending grace. “Ivy, stop throwing a scene. If you swallow your pride and complete the ceremony today, I will make it up to you after the wedding. I promise to keep my distance from Cassie from now on.” While claiming he would keep his distance, his eyes drifted uncontrollably toward the head table. Cassie was holding a freshly poured cup of hot tea, walking gracefully toward me. She stopped right in front of me, her eyes filled with tears once again. “Ivy, I apologize to you on Frank’s behalf. Consider this cup of tea my humble offer to you, please forgive him.” She held the teacup out with both hands. As I stared at her with icy eyes, showing zero intention of reaching out to take it, Cassie’s wrist suddenly twitched in an unnatural manner. The entire cup of scalding tea splashed directly across the skirt of my clothes and over my bare feet. “Ah!” Cassie let out a dramatic shriek. The Montgomery relatives exploded instantly, hurling accusations at me from every direction. “Ivy, what is wrong with you? She came to offer you tea out of goodwill, and you intentionally scared her?” “Cassie already suffers from depression, are you trying to drive her to her death?” Frank rushed forward like an arrow, shielding Cassie behind him. He stared at the wet stains on my skirt, his brow pulled into a tight scowl, his voice dripping with blame. “Ivy! You knew she was emotionally unstable, why did you have to provoke her on purpose?” A searing, painful burn radiated from the skin on my feet. I didn’t scream or defend myself hysterically like I did in my past life. Instead, I calmly turned my head toward Hannah. “Take photos for me. The stains on my skirt and the red burn marks on my feet, capture them clearly.” Hannah immediately raised her phone, taking several close-up shots of my feet. I turned around and shook my head at my parents, who were pale with anger. “Dad, Mom, don’t waste your energy arguing with them. Go upstairs to the bridal suite and fetch the suitcases I packed yesterday.” The moment Frank’s mother heard the word “suitcases,” she jumped up immediately. “Go! Lock down the keys to the bridal suite!” She ordered two relatives to block the elevator entrance, putting her hands on her hips as she sneered at me. “Ivy, drop your clever little calculations. That apartment might have your name on the title, but the furniture, appliances, and even the bedsheets were paid for by the Montgomery family! You won’t be taking a single needle out of that room today!” Looking at her greedy, bitter face, I found the entire situation utterly ridiculous. I turned my head to look at Frank, who stood silently to the side. “Are you sure you want to push things to this absolute end?” 4 Frank avoided my eyes and adjusted his cuffs. He raised his head. “You were the one who refused to give anyone a way out first.” “Dear relatives and friends, the bride is just experiencing a bit of pre-wedding anxiety, please be understanding!” Frank’s mother snatched the microphone from the officiant’s hand, addressing the hundreds of guests in the room. “Young people these days always like to throw small tantrums right before getting married, a little fighting is completely normal. Please sit tight, our ceremony will resume shortly!” Frank grabbed a velvet ring box and shoved it forcefully into my hand. He leaned in close to my ear, his warm breath sickening me to my core. “Ivy, my patience has its limits. If you dare throw another scene, I guarantee your parents will not walk out of this hotel with a single shred of dignity today.” This was a blatant, unvarnished threat. Cassie suddenly broke free from the support of the people around her and dropped to her knees right in front of me with a loud thud. She threw her head back, tears flowing wildly down her pale cheeks. “Ivy, I beg you, please don’t cancel the wedding! As long as you agree to marry Frank, I will pack my bags and leave this city immediately, never showing my face to you again.” “Please, don’t ruin Frank’s reputation because of me!” The guests below were completely swayed by her pathetic display. The narrative flipped in an instant, and countless voices of condemnation crashed over me like a wave. “This bride is way too narrow-minded. That girl is literally on her knees begging her, yet she still won’t let it go.” “Right? It’s totally normal for a man to have a unforgettable first love before marriage, as long as he settles down afterward.” “Zero sense of the bigger picture. The Montgomery family is so unlucky to marry a girl like this.” Taking advantage of the chaotic scene, Frank’s mother rushed over. She violently shoved my mother aside. Unprepared, my mother stumbled backward, her lower back slamming hard against the solid wooden frame of a chair, causing her to let out a painful groan. “Mom!” My father tried to charge forward with reddened eyes, but four or five burly male relatives from Frank’s side pinned him down, rendering him unable to move. Frank’s mother seized the opportunity to shove a thick red envelope into my hands, pressing down heavily on my shoulders to force me to my knees. “Kneel down! Drink this tea and call me Mother! Once you kneel, our family will consider today’s farce settled!” I struggled with everything I had, but Frank simply stood by with cold eyes. Not only did he refrain from stopping his mother’s violent actions, but he also spoke in a icy tone. “Ivy, don’t drag both sets of parents down with you. Is bowing your head really that difficult?” Cassie seized the moment to hold onto Frank’s mother’s arm, her voice gentle yet dripping with poison. “Auntie, please don’t be angry. Ivy might just be unwilling to lose to me, so she is intentionally using this method to get Frank’s attention.” Hearing those words, Frank seemed to finally lose the very last shred of his patience with me. In front of every single guest, he issued his final ultimatum. “Ivy, if you do not apologize to Cassie and complete this wedding today, I will never forgive you.” Looking at this group of hideous faces before me, I suddenly broke into a serene smile. I slowly raised my hand, reaching for a small crystal brooch pinned to Hannah’s lapel. Hidden inside was a miniature remote control. Click. I pressed the button. The massive LED screen that was playing our wedding photos turned completely black. A second later, the screen flickered and switched to a high-definition security camera feed from the hotel hallway. The timestamp in the corner clearly displayed last night’s date. “Last night in my bridal suite, you two seemed to have a wonderful time.”

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1 Mindy personally built a human-like white lotus. To spark genuine human emotion within him, she pulled the oxygen tube from my ICU bed right in front of him, deciding to use my death as a catalyst to trigger his feelings. I struggled with everything I had, begging for help, but she pinned my hands down firmly. “Be good. You are a system quester, you can go home when you die.” “But without him, I will die.” I was murdered by my own wife. At the exact moment of my death, the system issued a notification that the mission had failed, and my soul was completely extracted from her world. Yet, not long after, regret consumed her. She squandered her vast, multi-billion-dollar fortune just to bring me back into her world. Holding the newly reformed me, she pleaded desperately for my love. “Paul? Look at me, I am Mindy.” “You are still angry, aren’t you? You can hit me, scold me, or even kill me, just please don’t stay silent.” I tilted my head, staring at her blankly. “Command invalid.” … The pressure release valve on the laboratory’s awakening pod emitted a soft hiss. The cold white mist dissipated. I opened my eyes. The final image lingering on my retina was Mindy’s gentle yet cruel face, paired with the image of the detached oxygen tube. Now, that very face appeared before me once more. Only now, she looked older, exhausted, her eyes shot through with red blood vessels. “Paul…” Mindy lunged forward, wrapping her arms around me in a suffocating embrace. “You came back… You finally came back…” Her words were jumbled as she buried her face into the crook of my neck. I lowered my eyelids, remaining entirely motionless. Mindy released her grip, cupping my face in her hands, desperately searching for something within my pupils. “Paul? Look at me, I am Mindy.” “You are still angry, aren’t you? You can hit me, scold me, or kill me, just please don’t stay silent.” I stared at her. “Command invalid.” “Permission for ’embrace’ not detected.” “Identity confirmed: Target Mindy.” “Current status: Emotional distress, heart rate at 140. Sedative recommended.” Mindy froze. “What did you… say?” I tilted my head slightly, continuing my broadcast. “Target’s auditory system detected as normal. Repeating command: Sedative recommended.” “No… This isn’t right…” Mindy took two sharp steps back, knocking over a nearby tray. Metal surgical instruments crashed onto the floor with a loud clatter. She turned to the trembling research team huddled in the corner, screaming, “What is the meaning of this! I spent billions, I wanted Paul back! A living, breathing human being!” “Miss Mindy…” The lead scientist wiped cold sweat from his forehead. “A glitched code occurred in the system during physical reconstruction. While Mr. Paul’s memories have been restored, his emotional module… appears to be lost.” “Find it! Get it back for me!” Mindy went wild, smashing equipment across the laboratory. The old Paul would have felt his heart ache for half a day just seeing Mindy frown. The current me simply watched her rampage in absolute silence. Once Mindy exhausted her rage, she panted heavily, turning around to fix her gaze on me. Her eyes carried an obsession that bordered on pathological. “It doesn’t matter… It doesn’t matter,” she muttered to herself, stepping toward me one stride at a time. “As long as your body is here, that is all that counts. If the emotions are gone, we can cultivate them again.” “I was bad before, it was all my fault…” She suddenly grabbed a sharp scalpel from the table. With a sickening squelch, she drove the blade deep into her own thigh. Screams erupted from the surrounding staff, yet Mindy didn’t even knit her brows. “Does it hurt, Paul?” “Seeing me bleed, does your heart ache?” “In the past, a simple paper cut on my finger would make you suffer for hours. Now that I stabbed myself, do you feel anything at all?” Blood poured down her leg, pooling quickly on the floor beneath her feet. I looked down at the knife, then raised my eyes to her face. I extended my finger, dipping it lightly into the wound on her leg. Mindy’s eyes lit up with intense hope. I simply brought the blood-stained finger to my lips, tasting it. “Sodium chloride levels normal, red blood cell count normal.” “Artery damaged, blood flow velocity elevated.” “Immediate hemostasis recommended, otherwise shock will occur in ten minutes.” “Additionally, the scent of blood is unpleasant. I dislike it.” The scalpel slipped from Mindy’s grasp, hitting the floor with a metallic clang. Mindy refused to go to the hospital. She hastily bandaged her wound and forcibly brought me back to our home. The very villa where we had lived together for three years. Everything was preserved exactly as it was before my death. My favorite slippers rested by the entryway, our only couple portrait hung on the wall, and the air carried the familiar scent of gardenia fragrance I used to prefer. “Paul, you must be hungry, right?” Mindy limped out of the kitchen carrying a plate of sweet and sour ribs. Glistening red and rich in aroma. This used to be my absolute favorite dish, and her specialty. Back then, to coax her into making this dish for me, I would have to act sweet and beg her for hours. Now, she meticulously removed every bone, carefully bringing a piece of meat to my lips. Her gaze was filled with desperate pleasing. “Try a bite. I made sure to use less vinegar, just the way you like it.” I opened my mouth, accepting the meat mechanically. Chewing. Once, twice, three times… thirty times. Swallowing. Every movement was as precise as a quality-control machine on an assembly line. Mindy looked at me expectantly. “How is it? Is it delicious? Did it bring back any memories?” I set down the chopsticks, placing my hands neatly on my knees. “450 calories.” “Sugar content exceeds standard limits by 200 percent.” “Fat content excessively high.” “Violates host health management protocol. Discontinuation of intake recommended.” The smile on Mindy’s face stiffened. The chopsticks in her hand began to tremble violently. “Paul… I am asking if it tastes good, not about the calories.” “This was your favorite dish, made personally by me.” I stared at her without a single blink. “Taste sensors operating normally, but ‘delicious’ belongs to subjective emotional evaluation and cannot be quantified.” “To me, this is merely a mixture of carbohydrates and proteins.” “Do you require me to continue intake, Miss Mindy?” Mindy shoved the plate away violently. The dish shattered against the floor, ribs rolling across the tiles. “Stop calling me Miss Mindy!” she screamed, her eyes rimmed with red. “Call me Min! You used to call me Min!” I remained silent. Late at night, a heavy rainstorm erupted outside. Thunder boomed as lightning threatened to tear the sky apart. In the past, I was terrified of thunderstorms. Every time thunder rolled, I would crawl into Mindy’s blanket, trembling all over. Back then, she would mock me for being a coward while wrapping her arms tightly around me. Now, I lay flat on the bed, my body straight and rigid. Mindy walked in after taking a shower, carrying the scent of damp air. Seeing my eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling, she assumed I was frightened out of my mind. “Don’t be scared, Paul, I am here.” She climbed onto the bed, reaching out her hand to hold me. The very second her palm brushed against my back, I sprang up, twisting her wrist behind her and using the momentum to pin her down. I sat atop her, looking down at the suffocating woman beneath me, my voice icy to the bone. “Aggressive behavior detected.” “Warning: Cease physical contact immediately.” “Otherwise, the purge protocol will be executed.” Mindy did not fight back. Even though her physical strength was more than enough to flip me over. She simply stared up at me with difficulty, two streams of tears escaping the corners of her eyes. “Paul…” “Kill me… if that is what you want…” She released her grip, spreading her hands flat against the mattress. A picture of absolute submission, offering her neck up for the slaughter. I released my grip. Instead of retreating, she lunged forward, pinning me tightly against the bed. Her moist eyes locked onto mine, burning with raw desire. “I gave you a chance.” “You couldn’t bring yourself to kill me, could you?” “That means you will never escape my grasp again.” Her warm breath brushed against my neck, her fingers pressing into my palm, interlocking with mine. “Executing purge protocol.” “What?” Before Mindy could process the words, my hand had already clamped firmly around her throat. “I said, executing purge protocol.” At that exact moment, realization finally struck her. The present me possessed the power to stand against her on equal footing. Not merely stand against her, but overpower her completely. “Stop! Stop right now!” The bedroom door was thrown open. The family doctor rushed in alongside several bodyguards. They pulled me off her with frantic effort, plunging a high-potency sedative into my arm. Before the drug took effect, I caught sight of Mindy sitting on the edge of the bed, clutching her neck, gasping for air. The doctor tried to examine her injuries, but she waved her hand dismissively, her voice ruined and raspy. “I am fine.” She stared at my fading consciousness, letting out a bitter laugh. “This is retribution.” “Back then I pulled his oxygen tube, now he wants to strangle me.” “It is completely fair.” I closed my eyes, letting my consciousness sink into darkness while my mind sneered. Fair? Mindy, this is nowhere near fair. Do you really think my return was made possible by the billion-dollar research team you assembled? No. The reason I returned was to complete the mission assigned to me by the system. To utterly erase Mindy, both mentally and physically. To step over your corpse and claim the multi-billion-dollar quest reward in my original world. That is true fairness. When I awoke the following morning, the household was in absolute chaos. Convinced that my reset had gone wrong, Mindy unleashed her fury entirely upon the technical team. “A bunch of useless fools!” “I spent so much money, and you built me a killing machine?” “If you don’t recover his emotional capacity, every single one of you will die!” She brought me to the laboratory, which had already been smashed into ruins. Over a dozen top scientists knelt on the floor, trembling in terror. Black-clad bodyguards stood around them, holding electric batons in their hands. Mindy sat on the sole remaining chair, her face so dark it seemed ready to drip poison. The dark bruises on her neck had not faded, giving her a terrifying appearance. “Paul, look.” She pointed at the kneeling men, her tone deceptively gentle. “They are the ones who broke you.” “How do you want to punish them? Just say the word, and I will make them disappear forever.” I stood beside the debris, watching those people weep and beg for mercy. Mindy kept her eyes fixed on me. The former Paul would have felt heartbroken for half a day over a stray cat dying. Yet I displayed zero reaction. I stood there like an outsider, watching an utterly boring farce. The violence in Mindy’s eyes grew heavier by the second. She stood up abruptly, walked over to a scientist, and kicked him hard in the chest. “Speak!” she roared, turning back toward me. “Why aren’t you saying anything! Aren’t you supposed to be the kindest person? Save them!” She was forcing me. She was using slaughter to force the kind Paul out into the open. I finally shifted my gaze to her face. I walked over, picking up an electric baton from the floor. Holding the baton, I walked slowly up to the lead scientist. The man screamed in terror, “Mr. Paul, spare my life! Spare me!” I tilted my head, looking at Mindy. “Only extreme pain can test their true loyalty.” “Isn’t that right, Miss Mindy?” Those exact words were spoken by her to the doctor who tried to stop her when she pulled my oxygen tube years ago. Now, I returned them to her, word for word. Mindy looked as if she had been struck by lightning. “You remember everything…” I tossed the electric baton aside and walked over to stand in front of her. Extending my cold fingers, I gently traced the jugular artery on the side of her neck. The pulse beneath her skin beat wildly, rapidly. “Miss Mindy, your heart rate is excessively high. It appears a certain emotion has reached a high concentration.” I leaned close to her ear, my voice flat and devoid of fluctuation. “Is it fear?” Mindy grabbed my hand violently, pressing it hard against her chest. “It is regret… Paul, it is regret!” When Justin showed up at the front door, Mindy happened to be away from the house. “Well, well, is this the iron tin can she spent a billion dollars to bring back?” Justin walked in circles around me. “I heard your brain is broken? No emotions left?” He poked my cheek with a finger. “Tsk, the synthetic skin feels realistic enough, just like the real thing.” I stood in the center of the living room, unmoving, without even blinking an eye. Ignored by me, Justin grew infuriated. He picked up a cup of freshly brewed hot tea from the coffee table, steam rising from the scalding liquid. “What are you posing for?” He let out a cold sneer, flicking his wrist. Splash. The scalding tea was dumped entirely across my chest and arms. It was water hovering near ninety degrees Celsius. The delicate synthetic skin turned bright red in an instant, blisters forming across the surface. If I were a normal human, I would have leaped into the air screaming in agony. Instead, I stayed put. I stood on the spot without so much as twitching an eyebrow. Justin stunned for a moment, then burst into a triumphant laugh. “Hahaha! Mindy actually claimed you were Paul?” “Look at you! You are nothing more than a useless doll! You don’t even know what pain feels like!” He pointed at me mockingly. “Min is just keeping you around for novelty. Once she grows bored of you, she will tear you apart and sell you for scrap metal!” Looking at his arrogant face, I slowly turned my head, locking my gaze onto the fruit knife resting on the coffee table. The very next second. I snatched the fruit knife, skipping all words, pointing the sharp tip straight at Justin’s throat. Since I was an emotionless machine, killing someone shouldn’t count as a crime, right? Justin’s laughter died instantly. His eyes widened in sheer horror as he watched the blade approach. “What… What are you doing! Help!” Just as the tip of the blade hovered a single centimeter from his neck. A hand clamped firmly around the blade. Fresh blood dripped down the steel, falling onto Justin’s white shirt. It was Mindy. Seeing Mindy, Justin treated her like a savior immediately. “Min! Save me! This lunatic wants to kill me!” “He is insane! He really is a machine monster!” Mindy didn’t look at him once. She gripped the knife tightly, allowing the sharp blade to slice deep into her palm. Her eyes were locked entirely on me. “Paul… let go.” Believing Mindy was protecting him, Justin grew even more arrogant. “Min, dismantle him quickly! He tried to kill me just now! A dangerous thing like this cannot be kept around…” Bang. A heavy thud echoed. Before Justin could finish his sentence, his entire body flew backward. Mindy had kicked him hard in the chest. He flew a full five meters, slamming into the wall before sliding down like a crooked painting. He spat out a mouthful of blood, staring at Mindy in utter disbelief. “…Min?” Mindy didn’t offer him a single glance. She simply looked at me, her eyes so soft it was chilling. “Does your hand hurt?” she asked me softly, as if she wasn’t the one clutching a sharp blade. “Let go, be good, don’t hurt yourself.” I released my grip. The knife clattered to the floor. Mindy’s palm was a bloody mess, the cut deep enough to reveal bone. Yet she paid it no mind, using her clean hand to gently stroke the scorched skin on my chest. Her eyes held nothing but heartbreak and raw violence. “Drag him out,” Mindy commanded the bodyguards without looking back. “His mouth is filthy. Pull his teeth out before throwing him out of the city.” Justin’s screams were muffled by the bodyguards’ hands as he was dragged away like a dead dog. Only Mindy and I remained in the living room. Along with blood and tea splattered across the floor. Mindy stared at me, suddenly breaking into a smile. “Paul, you can feel anger, you want to kill someone, that means you still care, doesn’t it?” She retrieved the fruit knife covered in her own blood. Then, she handed the handle back to me. Pointing the sharp tip directly at her own heart. “If you hate me enough to want to kill…” “Don’t kill others.” “Kill me.” She held my hand, forcing my fingers to wrap tightly around the handle. “Paul, if I tell you I never loved Justin, that the only person I ever loved was you…” “Would you be willing to hear the truth from back then?” I froze. Mindy’s voice carried a subtle tremor. “Back then, I discovered your true identity.” “A system quester. As long as you completed the mission, you would receive a massive reward and leave this world behind.” “I was terrified, Paul.” “I was terrified that your kindness toward me, your warmth, your vows, were all just to complete a task.” “I was terrified that the moment you succeeded, you would abandon me without hesitation.” “I just wanted to test… to see if your love for me was real.” She raised her head, tears streaming down her face. “For these past two years, I haven’t slept a single night. Every time I close my eyes, I see you struggling in the ICU.” “Paul, I don’t ask for your forgiveness.” “I only ask, can you give me the smallest shred of a response? Even if it is pure hatred.” I listened quietly to everything she had to say. In the end, I tilted my head slightly. “Be a good little villain.” “Only death can trigger my love for you.” “So, would you be willing to die for me to see?”

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1 I was born able to see lies. When my sister married into old money, she set me up with a wealthy businessman. On our blind date, he claimed a net worth in the tens of millions. A soft green light glowed above his head, so I believed him. On my wedding day, my sister burst through the chapel doors, livestreaming. “She tried to be a gold digger but botched it. She’s marrying the CEO of a bankrupt shell company!” Guests whispered, the chat mocked. My life was destroyed. My sister went viral as a truth-exposer. Afterward, my husband beat me, screaming I’d ruined his life. I learned the truth: before the date, my sister had wired him ten million to start a company. That was why the green light appeared. Once engaged, she withdrew the funds and staged her livestream to avenge childhood humiliations. He eventually beat me to death. I woke back on the day of the blind date. This time, I accepted with a cold smile. But at the restaurant, the man was completely different. Figuring my sister had swapped actors, I sat down and went straight for the throat. “Do you have a billion dollars for pocket money? If not, we’re done.” He froze, lowered his teacup, and replied without missing a beat. “Sure. I do.” A soft ding echoed in my mind, and a bright green light illuminated above his head. … I stared at him, genuinely stunned. There was no way the mid-tier wealthy family my sister married into could casually toss around a billion dollars just to prank me. In my last life, that ten-million-dollar stunt was a massive gamble for her. She was entirely incapable of producing this kind of money. The man tilted his head, looking slightly confused. “Are you here to…” I pushed down the shock bubbling in my chest and steadied my voice. “I’m here for our blind date.” He let out a quiet “Oh” and nodded repeatedly. “Right, right, of course.” His reaction was completely off. It felt like he was just rolling with whatever bizarre situation I had thrown at him. I stared at his face for a few seconds, leaning slightly over the table to test the waters. “Wow, I thought they said this window seat was fully booked. How did you manage to reserve it?” He blinked, clearly caught off guard. Then, a wicked little smirk played on his lips as he lowered his voice. “It’s no big deal, really. I just paid the guy sitting here a hundred grand in cash to give up the table.” He probably thought that would scare me off as a ridiculous lie. But as he spoke, the green light above his head remained blindingly bright. He actually paid a hundred thousand dollars just to sit by the window. My mind was spinning. A total stranger who could casually drop a hundred grand for a view was absolutely not an actor hired by my sister. He wasn’t a plant. He was a legitimate, wildly wealthy man who had simply bought the table and accidentally hijacked my date! “You didn’t actually believe that, did you?” The man sitting across from me suddenly laughed, his eyes crinkling like a little boy who had just pulled off a great prank. “I’m just messing with you. Everything I just said was a joke.” The moment the words left his mouth, a massive, glowing red cross materialized over his head. Completely oblivious to his glowing lie, he kept talking. “Since this is a blind date, we should probably be honest about our backgrounds. To tell you the truth, I’m just like you. I’m a regular guy making three grand a month.” He sounded so incredibly sincere. I just smiled and listened, watching the glowing red cross hover above his head without flickering even once. It all made sense now. This guy was playing a reverse-Cinderella game. Since he had chosen to crash my date, he shouldn’t blame me for playing along. “Is that so?” I nodded sympathetically, giving him a warm smile. “Well, it sounds like we have a lot in common.” He visibly exhaled, the tension completely draining from his shoulders. I smoothly changed the subject, and over the course of our meal, I learned his name was Declan. He claimed to be a low-level clerk at a small logistics firm. I nodded along, taking mental notes while staring at the glaring red cross that punctuated every single sentence he spoke. The man was so filthy rich that the only thing he had left was his acting skills. As lunch wrapped up, I pulled out my phone and pulled up my contact code. “This was really fun. Want to add each other?” He paused, his gaze lingering on my face for a fraction of a second before he smiled and pulled out his own phone. “It really was. It’s been a long time since I’ve had such an easy conversation.” When I got back to my parents’ house, my sister Beth practically sprinted to the door to greet me. “So? How was it? How did the blind date go?” I smiled at her, offering my most genuine reply. “Thanks so much, sis. You really did introduce me to a wealthy man.” Beth froze for a second before her smile widened into something sharp and entirely predatory. “That is so great to hear,” she said, patting the back of my hand. “Hopefully you can marry into a good family too, and keep your big sister company in high society.” I didn’t say a word. I just kept smiling at her. She had no idea that the vicious trap she had spent months planning had been derailed from the very first second. Just then, my mother walked out of the kitchen carrying a plate of food. Catching the end of our conversation, she slammed the plate down on the dining table. “High society? Please. There is no way she’ll ever marry as well as you did, Beth.” She wiped her hands on her apron and shot me a disdainful glare. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, girl. A rich man isn’t going to settle for a boring bookworm like you.” I pressed my lips together and stayed completely silent. It had been this way since we were kids. Even though I always had the better grades and the better career, my parents only had eyes for Beth and her sweet-talking, manipulative charm. They constantly backed her up, pouring buckets of cold water over my achievements without a second thought. Beth nudged my mother’s arm with fake scolding. “Mom, don’t be so mean. What if my little sister really does transform into a swan? Everyone has their own destiny, right?” I turned around to head to my bedroom, catching sight of Beth rolling her eyes with utter disgust the moment she finished her sentence. As soon as I closed my bedroom door, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Declan. Are you free tomorrow? Want to hang out? Remembering I had a shift at the university the next day, I quickly typed back. Sure. Meet me at the north gate of St. Jude’s University. The following afternoon, I stood by the campus gates. From a distance, I spotted Declan pedaling toward me on a rented city bike. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt, his hair slightly tousled by the wind. He parked the bike and waved at me. “Sorry, did you wait long?” I chuckled, pointing at the rental bike. “Is this your usual ride?” “Yeah,” he nodded, looking completely natural. “It’s convenient and saves money.” The red cross immediately flashed above his head. I sneered internally. What a liar. He probably had a garage full of supercars to choose from every morning, but here he was, committing to the role of a struggling working-class citizen with Oscar-worthy dedication. “I’m a teaching assistant for a professor here. I have to run a tutorial session today,” I said, leading him toward the lecture halls. “Do you mind waiting a bit? I’ll be out as soon as I’m done.” He nodded and quietly took a seat in the very back row of the tiered lecture hall. The moment I stepped up to the podium, I pushed all the chaotic drama of my family out of my mind. Chalk in hand, I calmly broke down complex formulas for the hundred-plus students in the room. I kept the logic sharp and clear, occasionally throwing in a witty example that earned a wave of laughter from the crowd. The forty-five-minute session flew by. After class, students swarmed the podium, asking questions, begging for notes, and turning in late assignments. It took me nearly twenty minutes to finally break free. I packed my bag and jogged out to the hallway. Declan was leaning against the window sill, waiting for me. The afternoon sun streamed through the glass, casting a warm glow over his broad shoulders and the sharp angle of his jaw. When he saw me running over, he stood up straight and offered a soft smile. “Professor Sophie is pretty amazing,” he said, his eyes locked on mine. “I actually felt proud just sitting in the same room as you.” I froze. My parents had said those exact words to me at every academic awards ceremony I had ever attended since childhood. But every single time they said it, a glowing red cross would appear over their heads. Their praise was always empty, a social pleasantry they threw around for the cameras before forgetting about it five minutes later. They had never, not once, been genuinely proud of me. Hearing that familiar, hollow phrase again, I could only manage a bitter smile. But when I looked up, there was no red cross. Instead, a brilliant, steady green light was glowing above Declan’s head. The bright sunlight washed over his face, and his smile was entirely sincere. There was not a trace of performance in his eyes. My heart violently contracted in my chest. I ducked my head, hugging my textbooks a little tighter to my chest, and managed a hoarse whisper. “Yeah. Thank you.” Over the next few months, we saw each other constantly. We went to museums, public parks, and local farmers’ markets. He always rode his rental bike, and I took the bus. Sometimes, he would pull out a crumpled discount coupon and announce he was treating me to dinner. I would play along, gasping at what a great deal it was. “Well, making three grand a month means we have to be smart with our cash,” I would say. He would carefully fold the coupon and tuck it away. “Exactly. Especially since I still haven’t made rent this month.” I would nod in solemn agreement, staring at the blazing red cross flashing above his head while dipping my head to drink my soup, biting my lip to keep from laughing out loud. This man could lie through his teeth without his heart rate even spiking. If I didn’t have my gift, I would have fallen for it completely. But it worked for us. He played the struggling bachelor, and I played the naive girl. Back and forth, neither of us breaking character. It was the most relaxed I had ever felt with anyone. One evening, I was waiting for Declan outside a restaurant when a familiar, grating voice called out from behind me. “Sophie.” I turned around to see Beth striding toward me in a designer trench coat and stilettos. She wore a probing, fake smile. “I heard things are going really well with your blind date. I was just passing by and thought I’d check on your progress.” Her eyes darted past me, scanning the empty sidewalk. “Where is he? Didn’t he come with you?” My stomach dropped. I could not let them meet. If they did, this whole charade would blow up in my face. I opened my mouth to invent an excuse to get rid of her, but before I could speak, another voice called out. “Hey, did you wait long?” Beth turned, took one look at Declan, and let out a shrill shriek. “This isn’t the guy I set you up with! Who the hell is this?!” The air instantly froze. I opened my mouth, my brain scrambling for a lie to explain the mix-up. Part of me wanted to just tear the facade down right there and expose Beth’s sick setup. But before I could form a sentence, Declan stepped in. “You’re Sophie’s sister, right? Do you mind if we speak privately for a second?” They walked a few paces away. I quietly crept closer, hiding behind a decorative pillar to eavesdrop. Beth’s voice dripped with condescension. “Listen, since you’re the one dating my sister now, let’s make a deal. I will invest ten million dollars into a startup for you. How does that sound?” It was the exact same playbook from my last life. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. But then, I heard Declan let out a low, mocking chuckle. “Only ten million?” His tone was incredibly casual, like he was discussing the price of a cup of coffee. “I wouldn’t even get out of bed for a billion-dollar investment.” There was a brief silence before Beth exploded into hysterical laughter. “Are you serious right now?” she gasped, clutching her stomach. “Do you think there’s no penalty for being this completely delusional?” I cautiously peeked around the pillar. Above Declan’s head, the green light of truth was glowing. Steady, unwavering, without a single flicker. He was dead serious. To him, a billion dollars truly meant absolutely nothing. Beth treated him like a raving lunatic, laughing until tears ruined her mascara. Declan didn’t bother defending himself; he simply turned and walked into the restaurant. As soon as he was out of earshot, I watched Beth pull out her phone, her voice dripping with absolute triumph. “Yeah, Sophie didn’t fall into the original trap. But guess what? She actually went and found herself a total psycho with a billionaire delusion.” She giggled into the receiver. “Just wait. This is going to be an even better show than we planned.” Later that night, she sent me a text message. Hey sweetie! Your sister looked into that guy for you. He is totally solid. You should absolutely lock him down and marry him! I stared at the screen, reading her transparent lies. She wasn’t doing a background check out of the goodness of her heart. She had confirmed he was a “psycho” and was now desperately pushing me to marry him as fast as possible. She wanted the big wedding day. She wanted to stand in front of a crowd and expose me for marrying a pathological liar, using my humiliation as a stepping stone to build her own fame. Over the next year, Declan and I grew closer and closer. Meanwhile, Beth constantly harassed me. “So when is the big day? If things are stable, you need to hurry up and secure the bag. Don’t let him get away!” I never gave her a straight answer, just dragging the timeline out at my own pace. Until one evening, Declan took me to the coast. The sea breeze was fierce, the waves crashing violently against the jagged rocks and sending white seafoam into the air. I took a deep breath, facing the vast, endless ocean, and screamed. “I just want to be free!” The wind snatched the words from my lips, scattering them into the crashing waves. Declan turned to look at me, his voice cutting through the roar of the ocean. “Then I’ll be free with you.” Before I could even process what he said, he dropped to one knee on the damp sand. He pulled out a velvet box, revealing a ring with a diamond that caught the fractured, fading light of the sunset. “Take me with you. Let’s escape to freedom together. Will you?” He looked up at me. The wind was whipping his hair across his forehead, and his dark eyes reflected the fiery sunset and my own stunned face. As the words hung in the air, the green light bloomed above his head. His proposal was absolute, unadulterated truth. Every doubt I had ever harbored shattered into dust. I took a deep, trembling breath and reached my hand out to him. “Okay. Let’s get married.” The moment Beth caught wind of our wedding plans, she immediately weaponized the gossip. She spread the rumor that her little sister was marrying a “billionaire” to absolutely everyone in town. Extended family, nosy neighbors, old classmates I hadn’t spoken to in a decade, she made sure every single one of them received an invitation. She wanted the whole city to watch me marry into “high society.” Because the bigger the crowd, the more devastating her fake-busting livestream would be. In my previous life, pulling this exact stunt made her an overnight sensation. Wealthy socialites started paying her for appearances just to prove they had real money and weren’t afraid of her exposes. Beth and her husband used my destroyed life as a VIP pass into the upper echelon of society. On the day of the wedding, Declan and I stood at the altar. We had just finished our vows and were reaching for the rings. “Stop the wedding!” The heavy oak doors of the banquet hall flew open. Just like in my past life, Beth marched down the aisle, holding her phone up high. The camera was pointed directly at me, and I could already see the livestream chat scrolling wildly on her screen. She turned to the stunned crowd of guests, pitching her voice so the microphone would pick it up perfectly. “Sophie! I know you’ve always been jealous that I married a wealthy man, but you can’t just marry a con artist because you’re desperate for cash!” The banquet hall exploded into chaos. Guests were whispering frantically. People were craning their necks, and half the room pulled out their own phones to record the drama. “Is she serious?!” “I knew that guy claiming to have a billion dollars was totally full of it! How could she be stupid enough to marry him?” “This is so humiliating. She tried to climb the social ladder and fell flat on her face.” Faced with the exact same nightmare from my previous life, I kept my voice dead calm. “Where is your proof?” In my past life, she had produced bankruptcy papers for the shell company she had funded. The hired actor had checked his phone, realized his company was ruined, and completely lost his mind, tearing the wedding venue apart with his bare hands. The video of that meltdown circulated the internet for a year. I became a local laughingstock. I couldn’t leave the house, I was forced to quit my job, and I lived in a nightmare of public shame until my husband eventually beat me to death. This time, Beth held up a crisp white document, waving it like a victory flag. “I had my husband use his corporate connections to run a deep-dive background check on this guy. Declan’s total verifiable assets? Zero!” She handed the paper to the relatives in the front row, encouraging them to pass it around. “Take a look! Read it yourselves! I am not making this up to ruin her day, I am protecting her!” The relatives huddled over the document, their voices rising in a mocking crescendo. “Holy crap, it really says zero…” “A billion dollars, huh? Dude couldn’t even lie convincingly!” “Well, this is streaming to the whole internet now. What an absolute disgrace.” Beth shoved the phone camera right into Declan’s face, her smile practically splitting her cheeks. “Oh, Sophie! Didn’t your amazing husband say a billion dollars was pocket change to him?” The room erupted into cruel laughter. The comments on the livestream were moving so fast they were a blur. A billion is pocket change? LMAO. Not even Arthur Hawthorne talks like that. This chick is psychotic for money. They belong in an asylum together! Absolute delusion. Someone call the psychiatric ward. Beth stood in the center of the aisle, her chin tilted up, unable to hide the euphoric grin on her face. She was waiting for us to snap. She was waiting for me to break down in hysterical tears so my ruined wedding could crown her the queen of the internet. The document was eventually passed to me. I glanced at it. It was a standard background check, citing his assets as untraceable, effectively listing them as zero. I opened my mouth to speak, but Declan stepped in front of me, shielding me from the cameras. His posture was entirely relaxed. He didn’t look remotely threatened by the circus unfolding around him. He looked at Beth and offered a cool, amused smile. “You spent a whole year setting this trap, and this cheap piece of paper is all you managed to dig up?” Beth’s triumphant grin faltered for a second. She pointed a manicured finger at his chest. “What trap! Stop talking nonsense!” “Well,” Declan mused, adjusting his cuffs, “I suppose it really is time for my dear sister-in-law to officially meet my family.” He turned his head to look at me, his dark eyes suddenly entirely serious. “Once you know the truth, please don’t leave me. You have to believe that I truly love you.” He lowered his voice, gently cupping my face. “Okay?” The green light illuminated above him, bright and warm. I looked into his eyes and gave a firm nod. Declan turned back toward the aisle and gave a sharp hand signal to someone in the shadows. The massive LED screen behind the altar suddenly blazed to life, bathing the entire banquet hall in harsh white light. The room went dead silent. Hundreds of heads turned in unison to stare at the screen. Beth was standing dead center, the first one to read the document projected in massive letters. Her smug smile completely shattered. She stumbled backward, clapping a hand over her mouth. “This… this is impossible!” I frowned, wondering what could possibly be on that screen to warrant such a dramatic reaction. I turned my head to look.

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1 On the third day of the new semester, my desk mate Sally suddenly offered to buy the rundown corner store my grandmother left me. And she was offering a ridiculously high price. She slid a transfer contract across the desk, right in front of my face. “Lorene, I know things have been incredibly tough for you. Don’t worry. Just sign this contract, and I will wire the money to your account immediately.” I looked at this girl I had only known for three days with genuine gratitude. I was desperately strapped for cash. My grandmother’s medical bills had completely drained our savings, and I even had to borrow money just to cover her funeral expenses. Tomorrow was the absolute final deadline to pay my college tuition. I picked up the pen, fully intending to sign. But right at that moment, rows of glowing, ethereal text began floating across my field of vision. [Hell yes! Our precious Sally is about to secure her Doomsday Cheat Code! The extreme heat apocalypse drops in exactly three days, and her journey as the savior of humanity begins!] [It is what it is. Sally is the reincarnated leading lady. Only she knows that the crappy little corner store is actually a host for the Doomsday Supply System. She is going to save the world.] [Too bad Lorene is just cannon fodder. She takes the money, gets robbed that very same night, and drops dead on the third day of the apocalypse.] My hand jerked violently. The pen clattered onto the desk. Three days? A heat apocalypse? A system? I stared into Sally’s warm, compassionate smile and slowly pushed the contract back toward her. “I am sorry. The store is not for sale.” … Sally reached out and grabbed my hand, her eyes swimming with manufactured sincerity. “Lorene, are you worried about something?” “If you think the price is too low, we can absolutely negotiate.” “How about eighty thousand?” “If eighty is not enough, I can do a hundred thousand.” “I really just want to help you out.” Preston, the class president sitting right behind us, leaned forward to chime in. “Lorene, that is an astronomical amount of money for a shack.” I pulled my hand out of her grip and looked at her, my voice dead calm. “It is a crumbling brick building on the absolute edge of town. Why would you sink a hundred grand into that?” The moment I asked the question, the floating text panicked even harder than Sally did. [Holy crap, what is wrong with the cannon fodder? Is she suspecting Sally?!] [This deviates from the plot entirely! Lorene is supposed to hand over the cheat code without a second thought.] [Wait, did Lorene reincarnate too?!] Sally’s eyes darted around nervously. “I just always had a childhood dream of running a little corner store.” “Well, that is a real shame.” “My grandmother left that place to me. I plan to keep it for the sentimental value.” Sally clenched her fists, forcing a strained, bitter smile. “It is fine. Just think it over.” By the time the morning period ended, I could hear the whispers echoing behind my back. “I heard Lorene’s grandma left her some trashy bodega. Sally offered her a hundred grand for it, and she actually said no. She is so full of herself.” “Right? Who refuses a hundred grand for a dilapidated shack? She doesn’t know a good thing when it hits her in the face.” Sally, however, walked right up to the gossiping students, looking incredibly righteous. “Guys, please don’t speak about Lorene that way. She just lost her grandmother. She is grieving.” “Sally, you seriously have a heart of gold.” The students crowded around her, showering her with praise. I completely tuned them out, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and walking straight out of the school. I had to change my fate. I refused to be a nameless casualty three days from now. My grandmother’s store sat in a forgotten, rusting neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. The rolling metal security gate was eaten alive by rust. The windows were secured with thick iron bars, leaving only a small service hatch for passing goods through. I pulled out my keys and unlocked the heavy door. The shelves were practically bare, holding only a scattered assortment of stale snacks and warm sodas. The floor was cracked, unpolished concrete. My grandmother guarded this little square of the world for her entire life. And I had lived in the back room for eighteen years. I grabbed a feather duster and started sweeping away the grime. I wiped down the wooden counter, pausing when my hand brushed against the ancient, mechanical cash register she had used for decades. The moment my skin made contact, a mechanical voice echoed inside my skull. [Ding. Doomsday Supply System in standby mode.] [Activation Quest: Achieve $10,000 in sales revenue within 72 hours. Current progress: $0.] [Failure Penalty: System self-destruction.] [Countdown: 71:59:58.] [Friendly Reminder: Upon successful activation, the host will unlock the Climate Control Module, Defense Barrier, and the System Marketplace.] [Wait, how did Lorene trigger the system quest?!] [Triggering it is completely useless. Ten grand in three days? Nobody can pull those numbers out of a dying corner store.] [Exactly. In her past life, Sally literally abandoned all profit margins just to barely scrape by and complete the quest. A background character like Lorene knows absolutely nothing about aggressive marketing!] Reading the floating text, a smirk crept onto my face. I would gladly steal a page from my predecessor’s playbook. I slashed the prices into the dirt, entirely abandoning the profit margin. Spend twenty bucks, get a free carton of eggs. The elderly folks in the neighborhood were seasoned bargain hunters. The news of a massive liquidation sale spread like a wildfire. “The Lorene girl lost her mind! Everything is being sold at wholesale cost!” “Hurry up and grab a basket! She’s giving away free eggs!” “Are these gallons of water really a dollar? Load ten of them into my trunk!” “I am taking all the toilet paper!” By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, my inventory was completely decimated. In just half a day, my revenue hit $2,365. [You have got to be kidding me. Lorene’s clearance sale was way too successful.] [At this rate, she might actually clear the quest.] [Relax. This is the leading lady’s golden ticket. There is no way a doomed side character can hold onto it.] As soon as the sky turned a pale gray the next morning, I drove straight to the wholesale distribution center to restock. Eggs, bottled water, toilet paper, laundry detergent. As long as the price was rock bottom, the locals were more than happy to stockpile. I was running around the store like a maniac. I was ringing up customers, making change, hauling heavy boxes, and restocking shelves, wishing I could magically sprout six extra arms. “Hey! Let me help you with that!” I turned around to see Lily, the teenage girl from the house next door. She was fifteen and incredibly sweet. Lily rolled up her sleeves and immediately jumped behind the counter to assist me. [Whoa! Isn’t that the little sister of Jaxon, the ultimate villain???] [He definitely sent her to spy! They want to steal the store!] [Absolutely. In the novel, Jaxon is a cold-blooded killer. There is no way his sister is just being nice.] I glanced at the text and rolled my eyes. What kind of ultimate, cold-blooded villain works himself to the bone at a grease-stained garage just to pay for his little sister’s high school tuition? Just then, a gleaming white BMW pulled up to the curb. Sally stepped out, her designer leather shoes clicking against the cracked pavement. “Lorene. Business looks booming.” She scanned the empty shelves, her smile completely hollow. “It looks like you are overwhelmed. If you really don’t want to sell, I can come on board as an investor.” “No thanks. I am good.” I cut her off without a second of hesitation. Sally finally dropped the sweet, innocent act. “Lorene, you are a stubborn piece of work!” She stepped back onto the sidewalk and pulled out her phone. A few minutes later, a beat-up cargo van screeched to a halt in front of the store. Four or five heavily tattooed thugs jumped out, swinging aluminum baseball bats. They formed a blockade right in front of the entrance. “What are you looking at? The store is closed! Anyone who tries to buy something is getting their legs broken!” The customers waiting in line screamed and scattered in every direction. Lily trembled uncontrollably, gripping the fabric of my shirt. “Lorene, what do we do?” “Call the cops. I will go talk to them.” Society had not collapsed yet. We still lived in a world with laws. [This side character is openly defying the reincarnated heroine. She is brain-dead!] [Am I the only one who thinks Sally bringing goons to force a buyout is kinda gross?] [Wait, why do these thugs look so familiar?] I marched out the front door, meeting Sally’s arrogant glare head-on. “Sally, we live in a civilized society.” “Blocking my business in broad daylight? Do you really think you are above the law?” Sally laughed like she had just heard the funniest joke in the world. “Civilized society?” “Lorene, it will not be a civilized society for much longer. You suddenly refuse to sell, and now you are liquidating your inventory like a maniac.” “Did you figure something out?” I stared at her with a blank expression. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” Sally waved her hand at the thugs. “Since she wants to do this the hard way, smash the place.” I clenched my fists and stood squarely in the doorway. “This is my property! You have absolutely no right to do this!” Before the thugs could take a single swing, police sirens wailed down the block. Two patrol cars slammed their brakes at the intersection. “Drop the weapons! Hands behind your heads! Get on the ground!” Sally’s face drained of all color. The thugs looked at each other in sheer panic, completely caught off guard by the rapid police response. I pointed straight at Sally. “Officers, she brought an armed gang to terrorize my customers and threatened to destroy my business.” Sally instantly shifted into a terrified, weeping victim. “Officers, I didn’t do anything, I swear.” “Save it for the precinct.” The cops took one look at the baseball bats and the terrified neighbors peeking out of their windows, and immediately shoved the thugs into the back of the cruisers. I watched coldly as Sally was forced into the back of a police car. She glared at me through the window, her eyes practically bleeding with pure hatred. [Holy shit! The protagonist called the cops?! That is so dirty!] [Are you kidding me? That is a normal human reaction. If a gang blocks your door, calling the cops is the only logical move.] [Oh my god, I just remembered! In the original timeline, Lorene agreed to sell the store, and these were the exact same thugs who robbed her of the cash that night!] My hands curled into tight fists. Sally never intended to buy my store. She planned to forcefully take it and steal her own money back on the very same night. Because I had to go to the station to give a statement, I asked Lily to watch the store for me. By the time I walked out of the precinct, the sky was pitch black. I sprinted back to the neighborhood. From a block away, I could see the warm fluorescent lights glowing from the store. A line of customers was still waiting at the service window. A tall, lean figure stood behind the counter, reaching down to hand a customer a case of water. Lily was standing right beside him, managing the cash register with a bright smile. I stopped on the sidewalk, completely stunned. “Lorene!” Lily spotted me and came running. “Is everything sorted out?!” I nodded. Sally and her hired muscle were going to be sitting in a holding cell for at least a few days. Jaxon looked up from the counter, his voice gruff and quiet. “You’re back.” “Yeah, I’m back.” “Thank you guys for holding down the fort.” I walked behind the counter, grabbed a massive plastic bag, and stuffed it full of bottled water, bread, and non-perishable snacks. I shoved it directly into Jaxon’s chest. Jaxon recoiled like he had been struck by lightning, aggressively refusing to take the bag. I grabbed him by the collar of his worn-out shirt and forcefully looped the bag’s handles over his neck. “It’s for Lily! Stop arguing with me!” Jaxon froze. He didn’t push it back this time. He just gave a stiff nod, grabbed Lily’s hand, and practically fled the store in embarrassed silence. The floating chat went absolutely nuclear. [What the hell am I watching?! The ultimate villain was covering a retail shift for the protagonist?!] [Did you see him?! He was blushing! His ears were bright red! Tell me I’m not crazy!] [What is going on with the villain? I thought he was a ruthless killer! He acts like a shy golden retriever!] I read the text and couldn’t help but smile. These comments were getting more ridiculous by the minute. I kept the store open until past ten o’clock. After washing up and lying in bed, I ran the numbers in my head. Five thousand, three hundred dollars. I only had a day and a half left. I was short by four thousand, seven hundred. If my luck held out, I could hit the goal tomorrow. The next morning, I woke up suffocating. I checked my phone. It was exactly 100 degrees Fahrenheit. And it was only six in the morning. The oppressive heat did have one massive advantage. Bags of ice and cold drinks were flying off the shelves faster than I could stock them. Right in the middle of the morning rush, a sleek government vehicle parked outside. Two men in crisp uniforms stepped out. “Hello. We received a tip that you are operating a commercial business without a valid license.” My stomach dropped. I quickly dug out my grandmother’s heavily stamped business permits and handed them over. The inspectors scrutinized the papers, confirmed everything was legal, and left. I let out a heavy breath and went right back to selling. By mid-afternoon, the temperature had violently spiked to 104 degrees. This time, a car from the Department of Health and Safety pulled up. “We received a severe complaint that you are selling dangerously expired food products. We need to conduct a comprehensive sweep of your inventory.” I stepped aside, letting them tear through the store. I had sold off all the ancient inventory days ago. Everything on the shelves was fresh off the wholesale trucks. [Business permits, health inspectors. Sally is trying to bury Lorene alive!] [Isn’t the leading lady being a bit too evil?] [Shut up! The era of the morally perfect heroine is over! The cheat code rightfully belongs to Sally. Lorene has no right to hijack it.] I knew Sally was pulling strings from her holding cell, but I didn’t have the luxury of fighting back right now. My only priority was pushing the revenue over the finish line. I closed the shutters that night and counted the cash. Because of the two forced closures for the inspections, my revenue stalled at $8,516. I was $1,484 short. And I only had twelve hours left. Before the sun even rose the next morning, I took every last dollar to my name and made one final wholesale run. By the time I got back, the sun was radiating a toxic, lethal heat. I didn’t even pause to drink water. I threw the shutters open and started selling. [Countdown: 04:32:18] Mornings were never a peak time for sales, and the abnormal, terrifying heat kept the streets entirely deserted. I had no choice. I stood on the blistering sidewalk, waving down the few cars that drove past. Sweat poured down my chin in thick drops, plastering my shirt to my back. Three agonizing hours dragged by. The revenue crawled to $9,500. I needed five hundred dollars. Just then, a small, fragile silhouette stumbled down the pavement. “Lorene… I…” Lily’s face was flushed a dangerous, bright red. Her lips were bone white, and her eyes were rolling back into her head as she swayed dangerously. I rushed forward and caught her just as her knees gave out. “Lily?!” “I feel so dizzy…” Her skin was burning like a furnace. She was suffering from severe heatstroke. [Why did she have to show up now! Lorene only needs five hundred dollars!] [Ignore her! There is only an hour left! If she doesn’t hustle, the system self-destructs!] [Are you guys psychotic? It’s a human life. If Lorene leaves her on the concrete, the kid will literally die.] I hauled Lily into the back room of the store. I dunked a towel into a bucket of ice water and pressed it to her forehead. I dug through my emergency kit, forcing her to swallow an electrolyte solution. Lily finally stopped trembling and regained a sliver of consciousness. I asked for Jaxon’s number and called him, telling him to get here immediately. By the time I stood up and checked the system clock, there were only forty minutes left. That was when the overwhelming stench of gasoline flooded my nostrils. Sally was standing on the sidewalk, holding a massive red plastic jug. A twisted, psychotic grin stretched across her face as she splashed fuel against the brick walls of the store. [Oh my god! If Sally can’t have the store, she is going to burn it to the ground!] [Lorene is finished! Even if she doesn’t burn to death, she fails the quest!] [Jaxon is rushing back right now. Is he going to ruin Sally’s master plan?] I rushed to the front door, only to find a heavy steel padlock clamped over the outside handles. I was caged in. Sally walked up to the iron bars of the service window, holding a silver lighter. “You are running out of time, Lorene.” “Transfer the deed to my name right now, or I will turn you and this shack into ashes.” My brain was running at a million miles an hour. My palms were slick with cold sweat. I opened my mouth, intending to verbally agree just to stall for time, but a blaring red warning flashed across my vision. [Warning! The Host is strictly forbidden from transferring ownership of the system host structure in any capacity. Violation will result in immediate revenue reset.] I snapped my mouth shut. I couldn’t even lie to her. “I am not selling.” “This store belongs to me. You have tried to destroy me over and over again. Do you really think I am just going to roll over?” I spun around, grabbing the heavy compound hunting bow I had hidden beneath the counter yesterday. I aimed the steel-tipped arrow right through the service hatch, pointing it directly at her chest. “If you spark that lighter, I will put an arrow through your heart.” Sally took a hesitant step back. “Lorene, do you have any idea what you are doing?” “If you don’t give me this store, the extreme heat apocalypse will arrive, and millions of people will die because of your greed!” I stared down the shaft of the arrow, my eyes locked on hers. “Whatever you think you can do, I can do just as well.” [She is right! If Sally hadn’t sabotaged her all week, Lorene would have crushed the goal days ago!] [What the hell are you talking about?! This system belongs to Sally! She is the chosen one!] [Exactly. The plot is totally broken! Lorene is a virus in the timeline!] “Fine! You brought this on yourself, Lorene!” Sally’s face contorted into a mask of pure malice. She flicked the lighter and tossed it straight into the puddle of gasoline at the base of the wall. The fuel ignited with a deafening whoosh. A wall of orange flames rapidly scaled the brick exterior. The temperature inside the cramped store instantly spiked to suffocating levels. “Lorene! It’s on fire! What do we do!” Lily grabbed my hand, sobbing in sheer terror. I pulled out my phone, dialing the fire department. Just then, the roaring engine of a motorcycle tore down the street. Jaxon threw his bike to the asphalt, his eyes widening in horror as he saw the flames. I glanced at the system clock. Ten minutes left. A crazy, desperate idea flashed through my mind. I grabbed the laminated QR code for my digital storefront, reared back, and hurled it through the iron bars of the service window. “Jaxon! Scan the code and buy five hundred dollars worth of inventory! Do it right now!” He froze, staring at me through the flames. “What?” “There is no time to explain! Just send me five hundred dollars! Hurry!” The reflection of the fire danced in Jaxon’s dark eyes. He didn’t ask another question. He pulled out his phone. Sally shrieked like a banshee and threw herself at Jaxon. “Don’t you dare scan that!” “Back off!” I released the bowstring. The arrow tore through the air, slicing deeply into Sally’s shoulder before she could reach him. She collapsed to the pavement with a scream. Jaxon’s phone screen lit up bright green. Payment Received: $500.00. A cascade of beautiful, crystalline chimes rang through my head. [Ding! Revenue Goal Achieved!] [Doomsday Supply System officially activated.] [Booting core mechanics…] [Defense Matrix initialized.] [Climate Control initialized.] [System Marketplace initialized.]

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1 I was paralyzed by choices, so for three years of marriage, Nolan decided everything for me. Quit your job, skip the reunion, don’t invite your mom. Each time I hesitated, he’d ruffle my hair. “What would you do without me? You’d overthink yourself to death.” His tone carried quiet pride, like he’d tamed an obedient stray cat. Until spring cleaning, when I found a three-year-old boarding pass to Chicago, the city where I’d been offered a lucrative job. The departure date matched the day he’d held my face and said, “Stay here with me.” But the passenger name was Stella, my best friend. I stared at that crumpled paper for a long time. Then I made the fastest decision of my life. I called a lawyer and booked a one-way ticket to Iceland. He always said I couldn’t survive without him. But sitting on the closet floor, it hit me: the things that made me hesitate were never the choices themselves. It was the man beside me, the one who never listened to what I wanted, yet forced me to let him choose. … I folded the boarding pass along its original creases and shoved it back into the bottom of the dusty manila envelope. The sound of the front door unlocking echoed through the hall, followed immediately by Nolan’s voice. “Honey, I’m home.” He kicked off his shoes, wrapped his arms around me from behind, and rested his chin on my shoulder. His tone was as warm and steady as it had been for the last three years. “What are you craving tonight? Actually, never mind, you definitely won’t be able to pick. I’ll just cook.” In the past, I would have leaned back into his chest with a smile. He picked our restaurants. He ordered my food. He rejected the people I didn’t want to see. He took all the complicated, messy intersections of my life and paved them into one straight, smooth road. But right now, his words felt like a rusty nail driving straight into my skull. I gently pried his fingers off my waist. “I’m going to get some water.” Nolan didn’t notice the shift. He casually tossed his coat over the back of the sofa and headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll make that beef and tomato stew. You said it wasn’t bad last time.” I followed him to the kitchen doorway, watching him expertly turn on the stove, wash his hands, and tie his apron. He really looked like the perfect husband. He cooked. He remembered my taste in food. He stepped up to make decisions the second my brows furrowed. I backed away, retreating into the living room. I pulled out my phone, opened the banking app, and tapped into the credit card statement tied to our joint account. The transfer history loaded on the screen, line by agonizing line. The fifteenth of every month. A fixed, massive amount. Recipient: Stella. Memo: Mortgage. It started the very first month we got married and hadn’t missed a single payment since. I stared at the word mortgage, the rim of my glass pressed hard against my lips. I couldn’t swallow a single drop of water. The sizzle of oil hitting the pan echoed from the kitchen. Nolan called out to me. “Come here and taste this. Does it need more salt?” I locked my phone screen and walked over. The hot steam from the stew hit my face, and suddenly, a memory from three years ago violently superimposed itself over the simmering pot. Stella had dragged two massive suitcases into our living room, laughing brightly as she announced she was moving to Chicago to make it big. I had been crouching on the floor, helping her fold her sweaters, while Nolan hauled her heavy bags down five flights of stairs. He had grinned, wiping sweat from his brow. “Stella’s got guts. Packing up on a whim. Not like my girl here, who takes thirty minutes just to pick out a dress.” Stella had doubled over with laughter. “Come on, Nolan, don’t be mean to Audrey. You’ve just spoiled her rotten.” I had laughed along with them. Only now did the pieces finally click into place. The city where I had received that massive job offer was Chicago. That was the same week Nolan had gripped my hands, begging me to stay, telling me long-distance would ruin us, promising he would provide for me. I truly believed he just couldn’t bear to lose me. A spoonful of hot broth sat on my tongue, turning to ash in my mouth. I couldn’t swallow. “Spacing out again?” Nolan tapped his knuckles gently against my forehead. “You look pale.” His eyes held that same familiar look. Gentle. Utterly certain of his control over me. “It’s nothing. Just a little tired.” His voice softened instantly. “Then stop stressing over useless things. I’m here. You never have to worry about a thing.” I gave him a quiet hum of agreement. Late that night, after Nolan’s breathing evened out into a deep sleep, I curled up under the duvet and texted my lawyer. “Run a full check on Nolan’s post-marital asset flows. Pay special attention to real estate in Chicago.” A bitter, suffocating rot began to spread in my chest. It wasn’t until the next morning over coffee that I finally asked the question. “Nolan, how is Stella doing lately?” His hands paused for a fraction of a second while tying his tie. “No idea. Didn’t you two drift apart ages ago? Stop worrying about people like that.” I just looked at him. “Really?” He turned, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “Stella is selfish, babe. She hasn’t been your kind of people for a long time, remember? I was the one who told you to keep your distance.” Of course I remembered. He had sat me down and said, “It’s actually a good thing Stella left. Now you only have me. Saves you the headache of choosing who to hang out with on weekends.” He told me to cut contact, so I deleted her number. He told me I couldn’t survive without him, so I genuinely believed I was helpless. The moment Nolan left for the office, my phone rang. It was the lawyer. “Audrey, your husband owns a property in Chicago. It was purchased three years ago, and the down payment came directly from your joint account.” I gripped the phone, my throat completely dry. “Is he the sole owner?” I heard the rustle of papers flipping on the other end. “No.” The lawyer paused. “There’s a co-owner on the deed. Her name is Stella.” A gust of wind blew in from the balcony, rustling the leaves of the lush Monstera plant Nolan kept by the window. That plant was Stella’s housewarming gift the year we got married. For three years, I watered it twice a week. I repotted it three times. I meticulously trimmed away every single yellowing leaf so it could thrive. The lawyer was still talking, asking how I wanted to proceed. I stared at the wildly overgrown Monstera and let out a dry, breathy laugh. “Set up a face-to-face meeting for me. As soon as possible.” I hung up. The living room was dead silent, save for the leaves shivering in the wind. There was a sticky note pressed onto the coffee table. Nolan had left it before walking out the door. “There’s oatmeal in the fridge. Don’t skip breakfast.” I snatched the note, slowly crushing it into a tight paper ball before tossing it into the trash can. I pulled open the fridge. The Tupperware container of oatmeal was still lukewarm. Sprinkled on top was a generous layer of crushed almonds. I stared at those nuts, a dark sense of amusement bubbling up in my chest. During our first year of marriage, he made me a bowl of almond porridge. My lips swelled up, my throat closed, and he had to rush me to the ER. The doctor told him I was severely allergic to almonds and could never touch them again. From that day on, Nolan remembered every single detail of my diet. He knew I hated cilantro. He knew I took my coffee with exactly half a sugar packet. He knew what kind of tea to brew when my period cramps got bad. Yet somehow, he conveniently forgot that almonds could send me into anaphylactic shock. No. Maybe he remembered perfectly well. Last week, Stella posted a photo on her social media. It was a steaming bowl of almond oatmeal. The caption read, “Being fed in the cold winter is the best feeling. Surviving the season on this alone!” Nolan had been sitting right next to me on the couch when he scrolled past it. He had smiled at his screen. When I asked what was funny, he casually replied, “Just someone acting stupid in the work group chat.” Turns out, I was the stupid one. This breakfast wasn’t made for me. He had simply cooked a big batch for Stella, and carelessly scooped a leftover portion into a bowl for his wife. I dumped the oatmeal down the sink. The crushed almonds swirled in the running water before getting caught in the drain trap, their pale color glaringly offensive. While washing the bowl, the freezing tap water ran over the back of my hand, and I realized my fingertips were completely white from the cold. I dried my hands and walked into his home office. The second drawer of Nolan’s mahogany desk was a place I never touched. He always told me, “Don’t mess with the work documents. Looking at them will just give you a headache.” There were no work documents in that drawer. Just an old, sleek smartphone. I pressed the power button. The screen lit up instantly. No passcode. The photo gallery was a shrine to Nolan and Stella. The very first photo was tagged with the location of our wedding venue’s botanical garden. Stella was wearing a white sundress, leaning against a wall of blooming vines. Nolan had his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. They were beaming at the camera, framed by the cascading white roses hanging from the trellis. I remembered those white roses. I was the one who picked them. I also remembered the way Nolan smiled at me during our vows. But the man in this photo, his face was relaxed, loose, completely unmasked in a way I had never seen. I kept swiping. A living room in Chicago. A balcony overlooking the Chicago skyline. Two coffee mugs pressed together on a granite kitchen counter. The most recent photo was taken last month. Stella was standing on the balcony of that Chicago apartment, blowing a kiss to the camera. Resting perfectly against her collarbone was a sparkling emerald pendant. My thumb hovered over the screen, my hand shaking violently. I accidentally tapped into the Notes app. The pinned note at the very top was titled “Birthday Gifts.” I opened it. It was divided into two columns. On the left: Stella. Necklace, designer limited edition, already purchased. A link to the luxury boutique was attached. On the right: Wife. Just grab a bag or something. I stared at the words or something. Oddly enough, the sharp stabbing pain in my chest slowly dulled into a heavy, deadened weight. Last month on my birthday, when Nolan handed me the designer bag, he had kissed the top of my head. “Took me forever to find the perfect one,” he had whispered. “Do you like it?” I had hugged that bag, buzzing with happiness the entire night. I thought that even though he wasn’t great with romantic words, his heart was entirely mine. Looking back now, his words felt like a brutal backhand slap to the face of the woman who had smiled so brightly while opening his gift. The sound of keys jingling at the front door snapped me back. I shoved the phone back into the drawer, pushed it shut, and walked out of the office. The hallway wasn’t long. By the time I reached the end of it, I had completely reassembled my face into a soft smile. Nolan pushed the door open, spotting me near the office. His brows knitted together in a slight frown. “What are you doing over there? The office is drafty. Stop hanging around in the cold.” He took off his wool coat, draped it over my shoulders, and pulled me into his chest, guiding me toward the living room. “Did you eat breakfast? I made oatmeal.” I lowered my eyes, keeping my voice feather-light. “I ate it.” “Good girl.” He buried his face in my hair, his tone dripping with that familiar, patronizing affection. “If I’m not keeping an eye on you, you completely forget how to take care of yourself.” I buried my face into the collar of his coat, letting out a soft, compliant hum, just like I had done a thousand times before. But the moment the scent hit my nose, my fingers curled into tight fists. It was a crisp, herbaceous, expensive body wash. The exact same one sitting on the shelf in Stella’s bathroom the last time I went to her place. Nolan whispered, “What’s wrong? You cold?” I reached up, grabbing the lapel of his coat. My thumb and index finger pinched a single strand of hair. Long. Wavy. Chestnut brown. Not mine. I leaned against his chest and asked softly, “Nolan, whose is this?” He glanced down at the strand of hair, then chuckled, plucking it effortlessly from my fingertips. “Lots of female coworkers at the firm. Probably brushed against someone in a crowded elevator after a meeting. Are you seriously keeping tabs on me now?” I matched his smile. “Just asking.” He tossed the hair into the trash, his tone so gentle and flawless it was bulletproof. “Stop letting your imagination run wild. Go to bed early tonight. I have to fly out for a business trip tomorrow.” I didn’t sleep a wink that night. Nolan lay beside me, sleeping deeply, his chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm. His face looked exactly the same as the boy I fell in love with. It hadn’t changed at all. I remembered him pulling me across a busy street years ago, promising, “Audrey, I’m going to shield you from every problem in the world.” I remembered the day he proposed, sliding the ring onto my finger and whispering, “With me here, you never have to be afraid of anything.” He had kept his word. He shielded me from my career. From my friends. From my own mother. He shielded me from living my own life. At dawn, my phone buzzed against my pillow. The lawyer had sent the complete asset report. I rolled onto my side, turning my back to the still-sleeping Nolan, and scrolled through the document, reading every single line. It wasn’t just the Chicago apartment. Nolan had registered a media startup under Stella’s name. The $50,000 in seed money came straight from our joint savings. When I reached the final page, I stopped breathing for a long time. Nolan had bought a premium life insurance policy. The annual premium was $120,000. The sole beneficiary was Stella. The health insurance policy under my name was a basic medical plan. It cost $3,000 a year. I placed the phone facedown on the mattress, my chest aching so badly it felt like a cracked rib. Turns out, a person’s sense of security could be given an exact price tag. Later that morning, I went downstairs to take out the trash, desperate for some fresh air. Mrs. Higgins from next door stepped into the elevator with me. She smiled warmly. “Oh, Audrey! Your husband is just the sweetest. He helped me carry some heavy packages the other day.” I forced the corners of my mouth up. “He always likes to handle things.” Mrs. Higgins leaned in, lowering her voice like she had suddenly remembered a juicy secret. “By the way, does Nolan have a sister? I saw a really pretty girl with long wavy hair coming over to grab some things from him last week.” My heart skipped a beat. My grip on the garbage bag tightened until the plastic stretched thin. “It’s his cousin.” “Ah, that makes sense! I was going to say, she seemed awfully comfortable with him.” When I walked back into the apartment, Nolan was sitting by the door, tying his dress shoes. I leaned against the doorframe. “Someone came by to pick up stuff last week?” He didn’t miss a beat with his shoelaces. “Delivery guy dropped a package at the wrong door. A neighbor came by to grab it.” “A female neighbor?” “Yeah. Didn’t really pay attention.” He stood up and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I’ll be out of town for two days. Fridge is stocked with enough food for three. Don’t order takeout, it always messes with your stomach.” He lied without even having to think. I looked at the man standing in front of me and suddenly felt like I was looking at a complete stranger. In the end, I just gave a hollow nod. “Okay.” The moment the door clicked shut, my mom called. Her voice was incredibly quiet, almost cautious, like she was terrified of waking a sleeping beast. “Audrey, sweetie… I was thinking of coming down to see you next week. Don’t tell Nolan. We can just meet up somewhere secretly.” My throat seized up. Three years. It had gotten to the point where a mother wanting to see her own daughter had to use the word secretly. “Mom. Come over.” I heard a massive sigh of relief on the other end. “Okay. Okay, good. I promise I won’t get in the way of you two.” I ended the call and opened my banking app again. The monthly allowance Nolan transferred to me, after deducting groceries and household expenses, amounted to a measly ten grand saved over three years. I grabbed my ID, marched down to the bank, and opened a brand-new, private account he knew nothing about. While waiting in the lobby, my phone lit up with a text. Stella: Hey! Long time no see! Free for lunch? I miss you! I stared at the words I miss you and let out a soft, venomous chuckle. Someone who hadn’t spoken to me in three years suddenly crawling out of the woodwork acting like my soulmate. I typed back: Sure. Tomorrow? The next day at noon, I pushed open the glass doors of the chic downtown bistro. Stella was sitting in a sunlit booth, waving at me. Her smile was blinding. The limited-edition emerald necklace around her neck caught the light, practically screaming for attention. When I got closer, I saw how perfectly the small green gemstone rested against her collarbone. She stood up and wrapped me in a tight hug. “Audrey! Oh my god, I missed you so much.” The icy metal of her necklace pressed against my neck, and instantly, that crisp, herbaceous scent washed over me. The exact same scent lingering on Nolan’s coat. I rested my hand on her back and gave her a gentle pat. Then, I pulled back and smiled at her. “You look like you’re doing incredibly well.” Stella’s hand paused over her wine glass before her smile widened, a little too eager. “I am! Actually, the biggest news is I’m renovating my new place. It’s exhausting, but I’m so happy.” Half a glass of wine later, she became chatty. She rested her chin on her hand, failing to hide the absolute triumph in her voice. “I’m going for a modern rustic vibe. It’s gorgeous. I’m thinking of putting a plush rug on the balcony, maybe a little coffee table.” “Someone even bought me a smart vacuum because they didn’t want me getting tired from sweeping.” “Audrey, do you want to see pictures?” I nodded slowly. “I’d love to.” She slid her phone across the table, swiping through the gallery. The entryway. The living room. The open-concept kitchen. She was practically glowing, boasting about how someone helped her pick out the pendant lights, how she couldn’t decide on the sofa color but finally listened to that certain someone. Then, she swiped to a wide shot of the living room. Sitting crystal clear on the bookshelf was a framed photograph. Nolan, with his arm wrapped tightly around her. He was smiling so comfortably, his broad shoulders leaning slightly into her space. It was a version of Nolan that did not exist in a single photo album in my house. Stella’s finger froze on the screen. The base of her wine glass clinked sharply against the marble table. “Oops, wrong picture.” She frantically swiped past it, laughing much harder than before. “The place is such a mess right now, I accidentally took a picture of some random clutter.” I held my water glass. I didn’t press her. I just lowered my eyes and took a slow sip. “The apartment is stunning. You deserve it.” Stella’s shoulders dropped, exhaling a massive breath like she had just dodged a bullet. “Audrey, you’re exactly the same as always. Talking to you just makes people feel so comfortable.” I smiled back. “Does it?” We sat there for two hours. She talked about Chicago real estate, about how hard it was to start a company, about how someone always complained she was too needy but ended up fixing every single problem for her anyway. When the bill came, she unlocked her phone to pay. Her lock screen lit up brightly. It was a close-up profile shot of Nolan. He was standing on a balcony, wearing the exact dress shirt I had meticulously ironed for him last month. I pulled my lips into a polite, hollow smile. When I got home that evening, Nolan was sitting on the sofa. The TV was running, but his eyes were glued to his phone. Hearing the door, he instantly locked the screen. “Who did you get lunch with today?” I bent down to untie my shoes. “Stella.” The mindless chatter of a sitcom played in the background, but Nolan didn’t say a word. After a long beat, he tossed the remote onto the table. “Why the sudden catch-up?” “She reached out.” I walked over, sat down next to him, and rested my head heavily against his shoulder. His back went entirely rigid before he slowly raised his hand to stroke my hair. “What did she say?” “Nothing much.” I closed my eyes. “Just that she’s doing really well lately.” His hand kept running through my hair, his fingers pressing a little harder than usual. “Don’t hang around her too much anymore.” “I told you before, she’s not a good influence.” The exact same words, the exact same tone he used three years ago. Back then, I thought he was a fierce protector, filtering toxic friends out of my life. Now, listening to his heartbeat thumping frantically against my ear, I knew he wasn’t just tired. He was panicking. I didn’t answer, pretending to drift off to sleep. A few minutes later, his arm relaxed. His phone lit up on the nightstand, casting a faint blue glow against the ceiling. Through cracked eyelids, I watched him type a message and hit send. Two minutes later, the reply popped up. Stella: She’s completely clueless, don’t worry. Honestly, I feel kind of bad for her. She’s basically a pet that just does whatever you say. I shut my eyes tight. So my years of blind devotion and obedience were nothing more than an inside joke they used to stroke each other’s egos in the dark. Once his breathing leveled out into a deep snore, I gently lifted the arm he had draped over my waist, peeling it away like a piece of garbage that didn’t belong to me. I walked barefoot into the office and opened my laptop. Passport: Valid. Divorce agreement: Finalized. Financial evidence of infidelity and hidden assets: Backed up to a secure drive. One-way ticket to Iceland: Confirmed. I dragged all the files into a single master folder. I paused for a second, then named it: My Choice. Before crawling back into bed, I picked up his arm and draped it back over my waist. This was the last night. At dawn, a thin slice of light bled through the curtain gap. I fried two eggs, brewed a pot of black coffee, and quietly stashed my suitcase behind the shoe cabinet in the entryway. Nolan walked out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Why are you up so early?” I poured him a mug of coffee. “Got errands to run today.” He sat down and took a bite of the eggs. “Where to? Need me to drop you off?” I looked at him. “No need.” He smiled warmly. “Alright. Come home early.” I cleared the plates, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out the door. In the final second before the elevator doors slid shut, I heard his voice echo from inside the apartment, calling out my name. The metal doors clamped together. I didn’t look back. By sunset, Nolan turned his key in the lock. The entryway was completely dark. The kitchen was ice cold. He called out, “Audrey?” He walked into the master bedroom. The closet doors were wide open, my side completely gutted. Sitting dead center on the vanity was my wedding ring, resting on top of a single piece of paper. The divorce papers have been mailed to your office. My lawyer will be in touch. He dialed my number. Voicemail. He dialed again. Still voicemail. He frantically called Stella. Her voice was trembling. “She was perfectly fine at lunch yesterday, I swear…” Nolan hung up on her mid-sentence. He ripped open his iPad, tracking my phone’s GPS. A tiny blue dot blinked at the international departure terminal. Then, it vanished completely. A notification popped up—an email from my legal team. He didn’t open it. He just stood dead still in the middle of our cavernous, empty living room, staring at the screen where my signal used to be.

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1 On my tenth birthday, two blood-red lines appeared in my diary: [Do not make a wish for Dad to come home.] [Ten years from today, Mom dies.] I thought it was a prank and shoved the diary into my backpack. But after midnight, it flipped open on its own. [At 11:00 PM tonight, Dad will come home wearing a gray dress shirt.] [Do not let Mom ask about the gardenia perfume on his collar.] At exactly eleven, Maury walked in wearing that gray shirt, reeking of gardenia perfume. Sarah cautiously asked about the smell. He sneered. “You sit at home all day playing the nagging housewife, and I can’t even get close to someone else?” He patted her cheek. “Stop throwing a fit. Focus on raising your little baggage and stay out of my business.” The baggage was me. From then on, the diary revealed only two sentences a day. It told me what would happen but never how to save my mother. On the day of the divorce, Maury leaned against his car, indifferent. “You’re dragging a kid, no money, no skills. Starve a few days and you’ll figure out who puts a roof over your head.” Sarah didn’t look back. Maury didn’t know the last page read: [Ten years from now, on a rainy night, he will beg Mom not to let go.] … After Maury slammed the bedroom door shut, Sarah squatted by the bathtub, scrubbing that gray dress shirt. She poured half a bottle of laundry detergent, but the red smudge on the collar just wouldn’t wash out. “Mom, what do gardenias smell like?” Her hands paused in the suds. “They’re a very fragrant flower, Lily.” “Then why don’t you like them?” “They’re too sweet. If you smell them for too long, they give you a headache.” The faucet was running at full blast, but I could still hear her sniffling. The diary was a birthday gift from her. It had a light blue cover with a moon painted on it. She had also given me a red ink pen, telling me I could use it to write down all the secrets I was too scared to say out loud. That red pen was still sitting perfectly zipped in my pencil case. The words in the diary were not written by me. I took a graphite pencil and wrote: [Who are you?] No response. [Why does Mom die?] The page remained completely blank. At exactly 12:07 AM, two lines of red ink slowly bled through the paper. [Tomorrow at 8:15 AM, Grandma will come to take Mom’s paycheck card.] [Hide it in the place you hate the most.] The place I hated the most was the dark cabinet under the kitchen sink. The next morning at seven, Sarah was frantically digging through her purse in the entryway. “That’s so weird. Where is my bank card?” I had already shoved the card behind a bottle of dish soap. Just as I closed the cabinet door, the doorbell rang. It was 8:15 AM. Helen walked in holding a plastic bag of day-old bagels, not even bothering to take off her shoes. “Save the milk in the fridge for Maury. You and the girl can drink tap water. Don’t go getting used to the good stuff.” Sarah took the bag. “Helen, I need to keep a thousand dollars this month. Lily’s school science camp is six hundred, and the minivan desperately needs a new alternator.” Helen’s face instantly darkened. “A little girl needs six hundred dollars just to go play outside for a day?” “Maury’s company is tight on cash right now. You’re his wife. If you don’t help him, who will?” She held out her hand. “Give me the card.” Sarah didn’t move. “That is the money I earned.” Helen glared at her for a few seconds before violently snatching Sarah’s purse and dumping it out. She started ripping open the shoe cabinet and the hallway drawers. The noise woke Maury. He walked out of the bedroom, his hair a mess. He saw me first. “You didn’t eat your cake last night?” He pulled the leftover strawberry cake from the fridge, meticulously picking off the crushed peanuts on top. “You’re allergic. Don’t eat things blindly.” He handed the plate to me before finally looking at his mother. “What’s all the screaming about so early?” Helen immediately pointed a bony finger at Sarah. “Your wife is hiding her paycheck!” Maury sighed heavily. “Sarah, just give her the card.” “The business is struggling. Letting my mom hold onto the money is just keeping it safe for the family.” Sarah looked him dead in the eye. “Last month, Lily had a 102-degree fever. I asked your mother for two hundred dollars for the urgent care co-pay, and she made me write her an IOU.” Helen raised her voice to a screech. “Family or not, money is money! Who knows what you’re actually spending it on?” Maury rubbed his temples. “It was two hundred bucks. Is it really worth holding a grudge over until now?” “What about Lily’s science camp?” Sarah asked. “Just because the other kids are going doesn’t mean she has to go.” Maury nudged the cake plate closer to me. “Once the company bounces back, I’ll buy you that telescope you wanted, Lily.” I looked down at the cake. He remembered I was allergic to peanuts. He remembered I wanted a telescope. But he didn’t remember that yesterday was my tenth birthday. Helen finally got her hands on my backpack. I rushed forward and hugged it to my chest. “It’s not in here!” She yanked hard on the strap. The backpack hit the floor, and the blue diary slid out. I threw myself over it, pinning it to the floor. Maury frowned. “Lily, why are you acting so spoiled lately?” “The card isn’t with Mom.” The living room went dead silent for a second. Helen immediately locked her eyes on me. “Did you take it, you little thief?” Maury crouched down and grabbed my shoulders. His voice was gentle, but his fingers dug painfully into my collarbone. “Lily. Give the card to Dad.” “I’ll buy you something even better later.” I swallowed the pain. “If I give it to Grandma, can I still go to the science camp?” Maury’s gentle smile vanished. “Why are you exactly like your mother? Always obsessing over pennies.” Sarah suddenly stepped forward and pulled me behind her. “She is not giving you the card.” It was the very first time she had ever said no to Maury. Furious, Helen swept her arm across the table, knocking the strawberry cake onto the floor. White frosting splattered across the hardwood. “Just perfect! You and your daughter teaming up to steal from this family!” Maury looked at the ruined cake on the floor. He didn’t stop his mother. “Sarah, don’t tear this family apart over a few dollars.” Sarah calmly walked over to the closet and grabbed the broom. “This family isn’t falling apart over a piece of plastic.” Maury grabbed his keys and stormed out with Helen. Once they were gone, I pulled the bank card out from under the sink. “Mom, I’m sorry.” She pulled me into a tight hug. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Lily.” “Keep this hidden for Mom a little longer.” At 12:07 AM, the diary revealed two new sentences. [Tomorrow, Dad will treat Mom incredibly well.] [So well that she will almost forget about tonight.] The next evening, Maury came home holding a bouquet of white lilies, a box of expensive lemon tarts, and a star-projector night light. “My mom has a hot temper. I’m apologizing for her.” He crouched down by my bed, plugging in the projector. Blue stars crawled across my ceiling. “The telescope will have to wait, but this should do for now.” My nose stung. When I was little and had that terrible fever, Maury was the one who held me in the emergency room waiting area all night long. Sarah always told me he wasn’t a bad person, just exhausted from work and quick to anger. “We’re going out to a nice dinner tonight. Making up for your birthday.” I almost nodded in pure joy. But then I remembered the diary in my backpack, and a hot, sharp pain hit my chest. Sitting inside the private dining room of the upscale restaurant was a young woman. She wore a white knit dress and a thick gold bracelet. The air around her smelled heavily of gardenias. “Sarah! I’ve been dying to meet you.” Maury pulled out a chair for her. “This is Rachel, the new sales manager at the firm. She closed that massive account last month.” Rachel pulled out a thick, expensive-looking birthday card. “Happy birthday, Lily.” I didn’t take it. When I ordered the glazed salmon, Maury immediately stopped the waiter. “No peanuts, and absolutely no peanut oil. The kid is strictly allergic.” He said it so naturally, so fiercely protective, as if the man who called me baggage two nights ago didn’t even exist. Sarah’s eyes were fixed entirely on Rachel’s gold bracelet. Last month, on Sarah’s birthday, Maury said the company was swamped. He didn’t even say happy birthday. But I had seen that exact gold bracelet sitting in his online shopping cart. Rachel touched her wrist, noticing the stare. “Maury insisted on getting this for me. He said I saved the company a fortune.” Maury chuckled. “You reward the people who earn it.” Sarah finally spoke. “Lily’s science camp is six hundred dollars. Yesterday you said we couldn’t waste money like that.” Maury’s smile flatlined. “Do we really have to do the accounting during dinner?” “I’m just asking a question.” “Rachel brings actual value to the company. What do you do?” “You make minimum wage at a local bakery. The mortgage, the utilities, the groceries. Who carries all of that?” “I paid her tuition this month,” Sarah said quietly. “Only because I transferred that money into your account.” “That was my paycheck.” Maury leaned back in his chair, scoffing. “If I hadn’t called in a favor with the owner, you wouldn’t have even gotten hired at that bakery.” Rachel awkwardly slid the birthday envelope closer to me. “Sarah, please don’t fight over a few dollars. I’ll pay for Lily’s science camp.” “Is there six hundred dollars in that envelope?” Sarah asked. Rachel froze. “Well, no, of course it’s more than that.” “So, six hundred dollars goes from my husband’s pocket into yours, and suddenly it’s a charity handout from you to my daughter?” Maury slammed his fork down onto the porcelain plate. “Lily!” Sarah pulled my chair closer to hers. “Did she ask a question that wasn’t true?” Rachel’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. “Sarah, I think you’re having a massive misunderstanding. Maury and I are strictly professional.” Right on cue, the dining room door swung open. Helen walked in. Seeing Rachel on the verge of tears, she immediately sat down next to her, patting her hand. “Rachel is just too soft-hearted.” “Some women have absolutely no skills of their own, so they just get vicious when they see someone else succeeding.” The waiter walked in carrying a beautifully plated, complimentary dessert with a sparkler in it. Rachel pushed the plate perfectly in front of Maury. “Today marks your tenth year running the company. I asked the chef to prepare something special.” Today was also Maury and Sarah’s tenth wedding anniversary. Maury had clearly completely forgotten. He accepted the plate, his smile melting into something incredibly tender. “You always pay attention to the details.” On the car ride home, Rachel called. Maury’s voice instantly dropped into a soft, soothing hum. “If you like it, buy it. If you need more on the card, just let me know.” Sarah stared out the passenger window into the dark street. “You buy her gold bracelets. You give her a blank check.” “But you couldn’t spare six hundred dollars for your own daughter’s education.” Maury abruptly pulled the SUV over to the shoulder of the road. “Sarah, are you ever going to drop this?” “She earns the money I spend on her. What do you do besides tally up every cent and complain?” Sarah’s voice was barely a whisper. “What about me? I’ve stood by you for ten years. I’ve taken care of this family for ten years.” Maury went silent for a few long seconds. He popped open the center console and pulled out a fresh box of expensive migraine medication. “You’ve been having those bad headaches again, right? I had someone pick this up from the pharmacy today.” He reached over and wrapped his hand over Sarah’s. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you do.” “But I kill myself out there all day, and when I come home, I have to listen to you audit my life. Who could survive that?” Sarah didn’t pull her hand away. When we got home, Maury poured her a glass of warm water and heated up a piece of the lemon tart. Sarah looked at me and whispered, “Your dad didn’t use to be like this.” “Then when is he going to change back?” I asked. She didn’t have an answer. At 12:07 AM, the diary surfaced with new text. [Every time he destroys Mom a little bit more, he gives her a piece of candy.] [The diary cannot tell you if that candy actually tastes sweet.] I picked up my pen and wrote: [Is Rachel a bad person?] The page gave absolutely no answer. On Saturday, Maury said he was taking me to buy a new study desk. Halfway there, Rachel called him. Ultimately, he parked the SUV outside a luxury condo sales center. Rachel was already waiting by the glass doors, holding a glossy floor plan. “Rachel is scouting corporate housing for our out-of-state hires. You two wait in the kids’ play area.” Sarah glanced at the floor plan in Rachel’s hands. “Corporate housing requires the CEO to personally check which direction the master bedroom faces?” Maury scowled. “Do you have to make every single thing sound so filthy?” Half an hour later, Sarah’s boss called her in for an emergency shift at the bakery. Maury didn’t even look up from the brochures. “You go. Lily can stay with me.” Sarah crouched down to my eye level. “Do you want to come with me?” I glanced at the heavy black leather briefcase sitting on the coffee table next to Maury. Last night, the diary had told me: [At 3:20 PM, Mom’s money will be inside the black briefcase.] [You can only take away one photograph.] I shook my head. At exactly 3:20 PM, Maury stepped outside to take a phone call. The real estate agent ushered Rachel upstairs to look at the model unit. I bolted over to the sofa and unzipped the black briefcase. Sitting right on top was a residential purchase agreement. The buyer’s name was Rachel. Total price: $500,000. Down payment: $150,000. The payment source was Maury and Sarah’s joint checking account. And $10,000 of that down payment was the college fund my maternal grandmother had left for me before she died. I raised my smartwatch and snapped a picture. Just as the shutter clicked, Maury’s voice boomed behind me. “What the hell are you doing?” He ripped the contract out of my hands, his fingers clamping down brutally on my upper arm. “Who told you to go through my things?” “This is Mom’s money!” “Did your mother put you up to this? Is she making you spy on me?” Tears streamed down my face from the blinding pain in my arm. Maury ripped the smartwatch off my wrist and frantically swiped through the gallery, deleting everything. But the photo had already auto-synced to my school cloud drive. The watch gallery was empty. His breathing slowed down. He rolled up my sleeve. Dark, angry red bruises were already blooming across my skin. He went to the reception desk, got a bag of ice, and pressed it gently against my arm. “Does it hurt?” I didn’t say a word. “That condo is just a real estate investment for the company. It’s not a gift for Aunt Rachel.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a gourmet chocolate square, double-checking the label to ensure it was nut-free before handing it to me. “Don’t tell Mom about this. You know how she overthinks things.” So that was it. The candy he gave me was literal. That night, when Sarah saw the dark bruises on my arm, the color drained from her face. “Who did this to you?” Maury tossed his car keys casually onto the counter. “She was digging through my confidential work files. I pulled her away.” “You pulled her away, and it left bruises like that?” “I already iced it for her. Stop assuming the worst in me.” I opened the cloud app on my tablet and pulled up the photo of the contract. Sarah read the lines of text. Her hands began to tremble violently. “My mother’s money for Lily is in here.” Maury raised his voice, going on the offensive. “It’s just a temporary cash flow transfer!” “Then why is Rachel’s name on the deed?” “Because she qualifies for the first-time homebuyer tax credit!” “Maury, do you honestly think I’m that stupid?” Maury fell silent for a few seconds. Then, his tone completely softened into a defeated, weary sigh. “Once the market goes up and we flip the property, I’ll put the money back in the joint account with interest.” He walked into the kitchen and boiled a pot of fresh chicken noodle soup, dropping in a perfectly poached egg—Sarah’s absolute favorite comfort food. Ten years ago, when Maury was broke and trying to win her heart, he had cooked this exact same soup for her. Back then, the noodles were mushy and the egg was broken, but Sarah had cried and said it was the best thing she had ever tasted. She sat at the table staring at the steaming bowl for a very long time. Then, she stood up, picked up the bowl, and dumped the entire thing straight into the trash can. “Tomorrow morning, I’m going to the bank to print out the full transaction history.” Maury froze, the towel he was using to dry his hair dropping to his side. “Don’t push me, Sarah.” “You already took your anger out on our daughter today.” Sarah grabbed my hand, pulled me into the bedroom, and for the first time in ten years, locked the door from the inside. I pulled out the diary and asked: [Is Rachel going to have a baby in her stomach?] The paper remained blank. At 12:07 AM, two lines slowly formed on the page. [Tomorrow evening at 5:40 PM, Mom will bleed.] [Dad will hold her hand first. And then, he will let it go.] The next afternoon, Helen barged into the apartment carrying a stack of loan guarantor documents. Maury’s company had hit a massive cash flow crisis, and he needed to leverage our apartment for a $200,000 home equity loan. “Just sign your name. It’s just a formality.” Helen aggressively shoved a pen into Sarah’s hand. Sarah flipped to the signature page and dropped the pen. “I’m not signing this.” Helen’s face turned ugly. “You bake bread for a living. You offer zero help to this family, and now you want to drag Maury down?” Sarah slid the contract back across the table. “He drained our joint accounts to buy a half-million-dollar condo for Rachel. I still haven’t gotten an answer for that.” Helen sneered. “So what if he bought Rachel a place?” “She’s carrying Maury’s flesh and blood in her stomach. Did you expect him to let her sleep on the street?” The living room plunged into a suffocating silence. Maury violently kicked his chair back and stood up. “Mom!” Sarah slowly turned her head to look at Maury. “She’s pregnant?” Maury looked away, refusing to meet her eyes. “It’s only been two months. We aren’t entirely sure yet.” “What does ‘not entirely sure’ mean?” “I never planned on divorcing you, Sarah.” “Let the kid be born. Once we do a paternity test and confirm it, we’ll figure out how to handle it.” Sarah stared at him as if looking at a monster. “Then what the hell are Lily and I?” “You’re my family.” Maury stepped forward and grabbed her hands tightly. “Sarah, I swear to God, I never once thought about throwing you away.” “Rachel is young. She’s naive. But since the baby is here, I can’t just abandon it.” “You’re the mature one. You’ve always been the kindest person I know.” Sarah ripped her hands out of his grip. “So because I’m mature, my reward is cleaning up your filthy messes for the rest of my life?” “I told you, I will handle it.” “Handle it how? Let her live in a luxury condo paid for with my mother’s money, have your bastard child, and then expect me to play the gracious wife?” Helen stepped up and cracked a brutal slap right across Sarah’s face. “Who gave you the right to scream at my son!” I threw my entire body weight into Helen, shoving her away. “Don’t hit my mom!” Helen stumbled backward, her back slamming hard into the decorative display shelf. A heavy crystal vase tipped over the edge, plummeting straight down. Sarah spun around, throwing her arms over my head to shield me. The vase shattered against her temple. Glass exploded across the floor. Thick, dark blood instantly poured down the side of her face, dripping past her eyebrow. Maury’s face went completely pale. He lunged forward, pressing his bare hands frantically against the deep gash. “Don’t move. I’m taking you to the ER right now.” His hands were shaking violently. Sarah looked up at him, and for a fraction of a second, I saw a tiny sliver of hope flicker in her eyes. He grabbed his car keys and wrapped his heavy coat around her shivering shoulders. Then, his cell phone rang. Rachel’s caller ID flashed on the screen. Maury didn’t answer. The phone rang a second time. Then a third. Helen reached over and hit speakerphone. Rachel’s hysterical sobbing echoed through the bloody living room. “Maury, my stomach hurts so bad.” “The doctor said I might lose the baby. Please, you have to come.” Maury’s hands, which were pressing hard against Sarah’s bleeding head, suddenly went rigid. Sarah looked at him. “Weren’t you taking me to the hospital?” “Your cut is just external.” “I feel dizzy.” “I’ll have my mom take you.” Helen immediately scoffed. “Who’s going to clean up this disaster on the floor? I don’t have time for this.” Rachel let out another agonizing wail through the phone speaker. Maury pulled his hands away. The pressure was gone, and fresh hot blood spilled down Sarah’s cheek again. “Sarah, just call a cab.” “She’s carrying a baby. If something goes wrong, that’s a human life.” Sarah just stared at his bloodstained hands. When the front door slammed shut, the grandfather clock in the hallway read exactly 5:40 PM. I rode in the ambulance with Sarah. The doctor put four stitches in her temple. He said if the glass had hit a fraction of an inch lower, she would have lost her eye. The two prophecy lines in my diary had faded into the paper. In the blank space below, two new lines bled through. [Leave tonight.] [Do not take the stairs in your building.] Sarah stared at those lines for a very long time. “Did the diary tell you why I have to leave?” I shook my head. “It only tells me what’s going to happen. It never answers my questions.” Sarah reached out and gently rubbed the dark bruises on my arm. “That’s okay.” “Mom isn’t leaving because a book told her to.” “I’m leaving because earlier today… he held my hand, and then he chose to let it go.” When we got back to the apartment, the shattered glass and dried blood were still all over the floor. Sarah took the emergency fire escape stairs. She packed exactly two suitcases. Birth certificates, my school uniforms, a few changes of clothes, and the blue star projector lamp. Before we walked out, she took off her wedding ring and pinned it down over the signed divorce papers on the kitchen counter. We boarded a Greyhound bus out of the city at 5:00 AM. Maury got home an hour later. His first voicemail was incredibly tender. “Does your head still hurt, babe? I bought antibiotics and fresh gauze. I’ll change your bandages tonight.” Half an hour later, he must have opened the closet and seen her side completely gutted. The second voicemail was filled with venom. “Sarah, stop acting insane.” “Lily has school tomorrow. Bring my daughter home right now.” By noon, my homeroom teacher informed him that I had been officially withdrawn from the district. The bakery owner told him Sarah had quit effectively immediately, and the bank notified him that the joint accounts had been frozen pending litigation. Maury finally panicked. He tracked down our bus route and floored his SUV down the highway to catch us. The Greyhound had just pulled out of a rest stop when a horn blared aggressively behind us. Maury swerved his SUV into the shoulder, cutting off the lane, and jumped out of the car, sprinting toward the bus windows. “Sarah!” “Lily!” He was desperately waving the blue star lamp we had left behind in the rush. “Lily, it’s Dad! Let me take you home!” I saw him. And I knew he saw me looking down at him. I didn’t cry. I didn’t beg the bus driver to pull over. I opened my smartwatch, deleted the contact name “Dad,” and changed it to “Maury.” Then, I reached up and slowly pulled the heavy fabric curtain shut. Just before the window was completely covered, I saw Maury standing frozen on the side of the highway, completely alone.

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