Author: Momo Chan

“Asher and I are together now.” Daphne’s words felt like a bucket of ice water poured over my head. I involuntarily stopped my stretching routine, frozen for a moment before forcing out a smile. “That’s… sudden.” Asher had only been back for five days, and I had introduced Daphne to him just three days ago. Yes, how could I have forgotten? The lady beside me was known as the “straight guy killer” of our performing arts school. Apparently, even the guy I’d been crushing on for five years wasn’t immune to her charms. Chapter One “He’s picking me up for dinner this afternoon. Want to join us?” she invited. “No thanks, I don’t want to be a third wheel on your date,” I refused without hesitation. “He said he wants to thank you. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have met. So you have to come,” she insisted, wrapping her arms around mine and pouting. I gave in and nodded, “Alright.” Daphne had once seen my phone gallery, which included a photo of Asher and me from our high school graduation. “You like him?” she had asked point-blank. Embarrassed at having my feelings exposed, I blushed and defended myself, “We’re just good friends from school.” I don’t know if she believed me, but from that moment on, she started showing an unusual interest in Asher, constantly pestering me for information about him. A few days ago, when Asher returned to the States and asked me out for dinner, Daphne saw the message. What was supposed to be a one-on-one catch-up turned into a group hangout. I never imagined that with just one simple meeting, I’d hand over the guy I’d been crushing on for five years to someone else. That afternoon, Daphne and I walked out of the school gates. In the distance, we saw Asher leaning against his car, waving at us. Daphne immediately beamed and ran towards him. He caught her in an embrace, his smile affectionate. I stood rooted to the spot, the scene before me almost too painful to watch. After two minutes of cuddling, they finally remembered my existence. “Olivia, come on!” he called out, holding Daphne’s hand. I nodded at him and walked over, tactfully getting into the back seat. As soon as I got in, a huge bouquet of roses on the front passenger seat caught my eye. Daphne, true to his expectations, was delighted. She hugged the flowers, happily cooing, “Baby, I love you so much.” So, he was quite the romantic after all. He drove us to the best restaurant in the city. Daphne’s eyes darted around, taking in the luxurious surroundings. Although she tried to hide it well, I could see the longing in her eyes at that moment. “Olivia, thank you for introducing me to Daphne. This is a gift we picked out for you,” he said, pulling out an elegantly wrapped box from behind him and handing it to me. “Olivia, take it. It’s that perfume you like,” Daphne said, hanging on his arm, sounding like a princess bestowing a gift upon her handmaiden. I suddenly felt a sense of time displacement. Just three days ago, I was standing next to Asher, introducing him: “This is my roommate, Daphne.” How did our roles reverse so quickly? I felt like an awkward and out-of-place clown between them. The table was laden with exquisite and expensive dishes, but I could hardly swallow a bite. Chapter Two After that dinner, I didn’t see Asher alone again. Since starting her relationship with him, Daphne began frequently skipping classes and not returning to the dorm. On the rare occasions she did come back, she always carried shopping bags with designer logos, excitedly telling us about the places Asher had taken her. Lucy, our other roommate, expressed her envy. Daphne proudly lifted her chin and with a grand gesture, pulled out a bag from one of the shopping bags. “This one’s for you.” Lucy happily accepted it. “Daphne, you’re so generous!” Then she looked at me. “Olivia, why don’t you pick one too?” I waved my hand in refusal. “No need.” After thinking for a moment, I reminded her, “You haven’t been to the dance studio in a long time. The competition is coming up soon. Shouldn’t you come back to practice?” She smacked her forehead. “Olivia, you’re the best. I’ve been having so much fun lately that I almost forgot about it. I’ll go practice with you tomorrow.” I nodded in agreement. The next day, as soon as we entered the rehearsal room, our instructor’s face darkened upon seeing her. “Daphne Shaw, come out for a moment.” Although they went outside, I could roughly guess what was being said from the snippets of conversation and their expressions. Daphne’s professional performance had always been at the top of our school, and the instructor had been grooming her as the standard-bearer. The upcoming competition, if she won, would secure her a position at the National Dance Company. At a time like this, how could the instructor not be angry about her frequent absences and missed practices? About half an hour later, she returned and plopped down next to me, her face slightly pale. “What happened?” I asked. She sighed, “Ms. Harrison warned me that if I skip any more classes before next week’s competition, she’ll revoke my eligibility to compete.” “Then maybe you should stay in and practice for now. You can go out and have fun after the competition,” I suggested. “But it’s Asher’s birthday tomorrow. I’ve already planned a surprise for him. I can’t not be there.” Words of persuasion got stuck in my throat. That day, Daphne was clearly distracted during class. The next morning, when I woke up, her bed was already neatly made, and she was nowhere to be seen. As expected, when I arrived at the rehearsal room, Ms. Harrison was already fuming. “Olivia, what’s going on with Daphne?” “I don’t know.” “She wasn’t in the dorm last night?” “She was.” “Call her now. Tell her if I don’t see her here in half an hour, her eligibility for the competition is revoked.” I went to my locker, took out my phone, and dialed her number. After a moment, a mechanical voice responded, “The number you have dialed is currently switched off…” Ms. Harrison’s face was filled with disappointment. “Fine, she made her choice. I hope she doesn’t regret it later.” For the next week, Daphne didn’t appear at school at all. But through her Instagram, I knew she had meticulously prepared a perfect birthday for Asher. She posted a photo of them kissing at sunset, and everyone flooded her comments with congratulations. I right-clicked and also hit the like button. A moment later, her message popped up. “Olivia, you’re competing tomorrow?” “Yes.” “Oh, Asher and I will come cheer you on.” I put away my phone without replying. Chapter Three On the day of the competition, backstage, Ms. Harrison handed me my costume. “Olivia, with Daphne absent, you’re the most likely to win. Don’t let us down.” The dance I was performing was one I had practiced for two months. As long as nothing went wrong and I performed steadily, I was confident I could take first place. According to the draw order, I was the third to perform. As I walked out from backstage, I saw Asher and Daphne sitting in the audience from afar. Daphne mouthed “Good luck” to me, but I pretended not to see her and walked straight to center stage. The lights dimmed, and the music began. I twirled, my skirt gradually slowing as the music faded. As I completed the final pose with the last notes, the auditorium fell silent for two seconds before erupting into thunderous applause. Ms. Harrison stood below, giving me a satisfied thumbs up. I knew I had won. I won first place in the competition without any suspense, which meant I could enter the National Dance Company. After the competition, I sat backstage preparing to remove my makeup when Daphne, arm-in-arm with Asher, approached me. “Congratulations,Cora,” he spoke first, handing me a bouquet. “Thank you.” “Congrats,Cora. You can join the company now,” Daphne said, her congratulations sounding a bit stiff. I looked at their tightly clasped hands and felt momentarily dazed. I noticed a small letter tattooed on Asher’s ring finger. Seeing my gaze fixed there, he awkwardly withdrew his hand from Daphne’s grasp. “You got a tattoo?” I asked curiously. “Mm.” “Oh, you mean this?” Daphne chimed in. “It’s the name of his dog, Dobby.” I was taken aback. I knew about Asher’s dog; it was a Bichon Frise he got after going abroad. But in my memory, that dog was called Ruby. Seeing Asher’s unusual expression, I didn’t ask further. “Want to have dinner together later?” he asked. “I can’t today. There’s a celebration banquet later. Why don’t you join us?” Hearing my words, Daphne’s face immediately showed discomfort. Indeed, her presence at such an event now would only be rubbing salt in the wound. Asher must have realized this too. “We’d better not. We’ll celebrate with you another time.” “Alright,” I agreed. After that competition, I started frequently rehearsing with the dance company and gradually participating in some major events. Now Daphne and I had switched roles. I often missed school classes due to company rehearsals or events, while Daphne began attending every class without fail. Before the National Day holiday, I returned to school briefly. As soon as I entered the dorm, everyone was animatedly discussing something. Seeing me return, Lucy immediately held up her phone to show me. “Olivia, a famous director is coming to our school to cast the lead actress for his new movie!” I took her phone and looked carefully. Indeed, it was that internationally renowned director. If one could star as the lead in his film, it would already be a height that many established stars could only dream of. “Are you going to audition?” Lucy continued to ask. “The company is quite busy lately. I’m not sure if the timing will work out.” “Oh, what a shame. I heard Ms. Harrison recommended you and Daphne to the director.” Daphne, hearing her name mentioned, turned her head somewhat uncomfortably to look at me. “Ms. Harrison hasn’t told me the exact time yet. I’ll text you when she does.” I nodded. “Okay, I’ll go if there’s no schedule conflict.” I’m not sure when it started, but even though Daphne and I had never openly confronted each other about anything, the atmosphere between us had become strangely polite. I put down my things and started tidying up on my own. She left the dorm with Lucy, and we all maintained this safe distance with tacit and aloof understanding. Chapter Four Late at night, I opened my phone and scrolled through Asher’s Twitter. He was someone who liked to share his daily life on social media, so he often posted updates. But I noticed that since he got together with Daphne, the frequency of his tweets had significantly decreased. In contrast to his Instagram, where nine out of ten posts were about Daphne, his Twitter feed showed no trace of her. I couldn’t even find Daphne’s presence in his comments. Unconsciously, I scrolled back to the period when he was abroad. A particular person in the comments gradually caught my attention. I clicked into her Twitter profile, and the image that appeared on my phone screen left me momentarily stunned. After a while, I turned off my phone and pulled back my bed curtain to look at the bed opposite. Daphne’s even breathing could be heard. After a moment of struggle, I decided to let it go. The next day, because the dance company had rehearsal in the afternoon, I attended morning classes and then excused myself early. Soon after returning to the company, I received a message from Daphne. “Tomorrow at 11 AM, Building 3, Room 201.” “Okay, thanks,” I replied briefly. “Will you be able to come back tomorrow?” “I have something in the morning, but I can adjust. Besides, it’s not easy to get an interview with Director Wen, so I’ll definitely go for this opportunity.” “Oh.” Looking at Daphne’s text showing no particular emotional fluctuation, I didn’t reply further. I put my phone back and continued rehearsing. On the day of the interview, I woke up early and went to a makeup artist I had worked with before. She did an exquisite yet not overly flashy makeup for me. After finishing, she admired her work in the mirror. “Olivia, with your current state, this year’s newcomer award is yours for sure. When you become famous, you can hire me as your personal makeup artist. I’m not expensive,” she said teasingly, holding her brush. I gently pinched her chubby cheeks. “I’ll take that as a good omen.” Calculating the time, I still had a while before the interview. I went with her to pick out an outfit. When I arrived at school, it was just 10:30 AM. I walked towards Building 3 with my prepared materials, seeing a crowd already gathered at the door from afar. Besides some students who came to watch, there were also a few staff members. I politely handed my materials to a staff member at the door. “Hello, I’m here for the interview.” “Interview?” A man wearing a brown vest, who was organizing documents on the table, looked up at me with a puzzled expression when he heard my words. “Yes, for Director Wen’s movie. My recommender is my teacher, Ms. Harrison.” “Oh, didn’t Ms. Harrison tell you about the interview time?” He suddenly seemed to understand. “Isn’t it at 11 AM?” Hearing my words, he looked at me with a complex expression for a long time, then spoke. “I’m sorry, miss. I don’t know what misunderstanding occurred in your communication, but our interviews started at 9 AM and have already ended. Director Wen has already left the school.” I was stunned by his words. But Daphne clearly told me it was at 11 AM. He might have seen many similar situations, and seeing that I hadn’t spoken for a while, he sighed. “It’s alright, there will be other opportunities in the future.” “Thank you,” I said dejectedly as I took back my materials from his table. Just as I was about to turn and leave, I saw Daphne walking out of the restroom, smiling broadly and dressed in designer clothes. Chapter Five “Can you explain this to me?” I walked up to her, showing her the message where she had informed me of the time. She shrugged indifferently, while using a tissue to wipe off the remaining water on her freshly washed hands. “Olivia, you don’t need to rush to confront me. I don’t owe you anything.” “What do you mean?” “You must be very proud of snatching my position at the dance company, right? After all, I’ve always been a step ahead of you since we entered school. The underdog suddenly becoming the phoenix must be worth celebrating. I understand, so every time you come back to school to show off, I haven’t given you any trouble. I’m just taking back what belongs to me. That position can be my compensation to you. We’re even now, so stop acting like a victim in front of me. It makes me sick.” I was amused by her confusing speech. “Daphne, let’s be clear. When you didn’t go to the competition, it wasn’t because I tied you up and prevented you from going. You’re blaming all the consequences of your love-struck behavior on me. Do you think that’s reasonable?” She shrugged indifferently. “Whatever, think what you want. Anyway, we’ve always had a fake friendship. By the way, you don’t know this, but I’ve never considered you my friend. I’ve disliked you since the first day of school.” This last sentence from Daphne was unexpected. Seeing that I didn’t refute, she leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Oh, I forgot to tell you something else.” She paused deliberately before continuing. “You really like my boyfriend, don’t you?” Bang! My heart suddenly accelerated. I could feel my face burning hot. “What… what are you talking about?” I stammered. “Hahahahaha, why are you stuttering? Let me show you something interesting.” She pulled out a notebook from her bag. My breath caught. I couldn’t be more familiar with this notebook. It was the diary I had been writing since high school, containing everything I had recorded about Asher.

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On my 18th birthday, my phone suddenly had a few extra messages. The sender claimed to be me—from ten years in the future. “This isn’t a prank.” “Go to the Computer Science Department and find William Walker.” “He might seem withdrawn and cold right now, but in the years to come, he’ll be the one who loves you the most in this world.” “Save him. Promise me you won’t let him die for you this time.” My name is Violet Brooks, a freshman at Westwood University, and I just turned eighteen last week. This birthday was definitely the strangest I’ve ever had. My dad gave me a new phone that day. After a shower that night, I laid on my bed, switched the SIM card to my new phone, and started downloading my usual apps. Just as I was moving things over, a notification flashed on my screen with a new message. I glanced at it, and it simply read: “Go to the Computer Science Department and find William Walker.” I’d never heard of anyone named William Walker. It had to be a mistake, right? Ignoring it, I continued my app downloads until another message popped up: “Hurry, you have to find him before Christmas, or it’ll be too late!” This time, the sender’s tone was so intense that I felt compelled to respond, so I typed back, “You must have the wrong number.” The reply came instantly: “No, I’m looking for you, Violet Brooks.” The weirdness of it made me double-check the sender’s number—and that’s when I noticed something bone-chilling: the messages were coming from my own phone number. Imagine that: it was exactly midnight, and I was messaging…myself. Was this some elaborate prank, or a ghostly midnight message? I took a deep breath, tried to steady my hands, and finally typed back, “Who are you?” The screen stayed silent until morning. I almost forgot about the whole thing, but then last night, while staying up late for a club interview, the clock struck twelve, and my phone pinged with the same message: “Go to the Computer Science Department and find William Walker.” That was the second time. I had to figure out what was going on. “Who are you? Is this a joke?” I asked. The answer came back quickly, and it made absolutely no sense: “I am you, ten years from now.” Yeah, right. What a ridiculous prank. I reminded them, “April Fools’ Day was six months ago.” “It’s not a joke. If you don’t believe me, I can prove it. You’re in 2020, and you have a crush on Chase Emerson, right?” My brain froze. Chase Emerson was a guy in our club, a year older than me. He was charming and sweet, and a lot of people called him the “perfect senior.” He had been extra kind to me, and I liked him, but I’d never told anyone. How did this person know? Almost as if reading my mind, the message continued, “Don’t question it. I know because I am you—ten years in the future.” I threw caution aside and asked, “So, did I end up with Chase in the future?” There was a pause before the answer came, “Yeah, you got married.” I barely had time to blush before my phone lit up with a series of messages: “But he’s got nothing to offer in bed, he’s a massive jerk, and if you stay with him, he’ll blow through your money, hook up with your friends, and even try to kill you!” My jaw dropped, and a sad feeling crept in. Seriously? Was my future that tragic? Maybe realizing the sidetrack, the future me quickly got back to the original point: “We’re running out of time. Listen to me—go to the Computer Science Department and find William Walker.” “Right now, he seems distant and cold, but in time, he’ll be the one who loves you most.” “Promise me you’ll save him. Don’t let him die for you this time.” I asked her who William Walker was, why he’d die for me, and what would happen, but my messages seemed to disappear into a void. I checked the time. It was exactly five minutes past midnight. Apparently, this strange, time-crossing conversation had its own strict schedule.

The next day, I dragged myself to my 8 a.m. class, tired from the night before. With assigned seats, it was easy to see who was missing or late, so I noticed right away when I got to my desk—a breakfast had been placed on it: soy milk, a small order of dumplings, and a chocolate muffin. I turned to my roommate, who’d arrived just before me. “Who brought this?” “No idea,” she shrugged. Then she grinned and teased, “Come on, Vi, isn’t it from Chase Emerson? I mean, he bought you an iced coffee before, and last night you even posted about wanting a chocolate muffin on your Instagram story. Maybe he’s got a thing for you?” That café with the famous chocolate muffins was three miles from campus, and those muffins usually sold out fast. Normally, I would have felt flattered, giving Chase a little boost in my mind. But after those messages, now just hearing his name made me think of that warning: “He’s got nothing to offer in bed.” I practically cringed. Half of his good image was gone, and under my roommate’s playful stare, I quickly denied it: “No, we’re not together or anything.” At 3 p.m., I went to the club interview as planned, and things went smoothly. Chase came over afterward to congratulate me, asking if I wanted to catch a movie with him that evening. Normally, I’d have been happy to accept, but today, with that line repeating in my mind, I could barely stop myself from glancing downward. Chase leaned closer. “I already got the tickets—it’s that suspense movie you wanted to see.” Keeping my face neutral, I declined, “Sorry, I’m busy tonight.” He looked a little disappointed. “Alright. Next time, then.” I exhaled in relief. Then a thought hit me—wasn’t William Walker also in the Computer Science Department? Maybe Chase would know him. Curious, I asked Chase if he knew William Walker, and he nodded. “Yeah, he’s a freshman, pretty well-known this year. Why, do you know him?” I shook my head, improvising, “I have a friend who likes him.” Chase’s expression turned serious, his brows furrowing. “Your friend should probably give up.” “Why? Does he have a girlfriend?” “No,” he replied, his tone grave. “But word is, he’s got issues—like, mental health issues.” Chase shared some rumors about William Walker. Apparently, when William first joined, he was noticed for his sharp looks and mysterious attitude, and Chase’s “campus heartthrob” status was almost dethroned. But then someone dug up details about his family and posted them on the school forum. Overnight, everyone’s attitude shifted completely. The reason was clear: William’s father was a killer, with severe mental issues. William had witnessed his father murder his mother when he was just five years old. His dad, in a violent rage, had stabbed her, then slowly approached him. Miraculously, his father regained control just as he raised the knife, and realizing what he’d done, he ran away, vanishing completely. William’s neighbor found him hours later, huddled in a corner, shaking and staring blankly at the wall. After that, his father went missing, and William was left with a distant relative who quickly sent him off to the Riverside Youth Home. Chapter

The online forum painted vivid scenes. The thread starter claimed to be William’s former high school classmate and said he’d once seen William lose it, pinning an older classmate to a wall after the guy mocked his parents. Some people thought William’s reckless, fearless energy was an inherited trait, and rumors about his “mental instability” spread all over the Computer Science Department. I read every word of those posts, and instead of feeling afraid, I just felt… sad. It was probably those messages affecting me. One forum post even had a candid shot of him—eyes sharp, looking coldly into the camera. I studied that photo for a long time, conflicted, before finally deciding I’d try to meet him myself. Finding William wasn’t hard. I didn’t even need to ask around. Just standing outside the Computer Science building and looking in, I spotted him immediately in the crowd. Unlike most students who dressed in brand-name clothes and buzzed with energy, William was in the back row alone, wearing a plain white t-shirt. Black hair, dark eyes, like an ocean hidden from the sun—he just seemed out of sync with the world around him. Maybe my gaze lingered too long, because suddenly he looked directly at me, catching my eyes with a sharp, almost piercing stare. My heart skipped, and instinctively, I ducked out of sight beneath the window. As soon as I crouched down, I realized how weird it was. I wasn’t a creep—so why was I acting so guilty? When the bell rang, students poured out, and I saw William at the tail end of the crowd, his face calm and distant. Rumors must’ve kept people wary, as he walked alone, a little pocket of solitude in the middle of the busy hall. I couldn’t help myself—I called out, “Hey!” I ran over, phone in hand. “You’re William Walker, right? Hi, I’m Violet Brooks from the 3 The forum posts about William Walker were so detailed, you’d think people were reporting on a local celebrity. One person claiming to be his former high school classmate described a time they saw William snap, pinning a taller upperclassman against a wall. Apparently, the guy had made a rude comment about his parents. Everyone said William had this fearless energy, like he didn’t care what happened to him. Most figured he must’ve inherited it from his dad, so rumors about him having “mental issues” spread quickly across the Computer Science Department. I read all the posts about William. Not only did they not scare me—they actually made me feel sorry for him. …Maybe those texts had already started to get to me. One of the forum posts even had a picture of him, obviously taken in secret. In the photo, he was glancing at the camera with eyes that were both wild and cold. I stared at that photo for a long time, feeling torn, before deciding I’d go find him and see for myself. Finding William wasn’t hard; I didn’t even need to ask anyone. I simply went to the window of his classroom and looked in. Among the sea of students, he stood out immediately. His vibe was so distinct. Most college students around here wore brand-name clothes and had a certain carefree energy. But William was different. Sitting alone in the back, he wore a plain white t-shirt, dark hair falling into his equally dark eyes, like a shadowed lake with no sunlight reaching its depths. I compared him to the photo from the forum. No doubt, this was him. Maybe I was staring too long because he suddenly looked straight at me. Our eyes met, and his gaze was sharp, cutting. Caught in the act, my heart skipped a beat, and, completely flustered, I crouched below the window, hiding from view. It only hit me afterward how ridiculous that was. I wasn’t a spy, so why was I hiding like one? When the bell rang, everyone started pouring out of the classroom. I stood on my toes to catch sight of William, who was trailing at the end, a calm and distant look on his face. Thanks to the rumors, people kept their distance, walking in groups while he was completely alone, wrapped in a quiet solitude that felt almost suffocating. I couldn’t help myself—I called out, “Hey, you!” I jogged over to him, holding up my phone. “You’re William Walker, right? Hi, I’m Violet Brooks, from the Design Department. Can I add you on WhatsApp?” This was the first time I’d ever approached a guy like this. My heart pounded, but William stopped and looked at me, somewhere between surprised and… curious. “You know me?” His voice was calm and steady, surprisingly gentle. Trying not to seem overeager, I answered, “No, but I’d like to get to know you. If that’s alright?” William’s face went blank. “No, it’s not alright.” He brushed past me with a firm, “Don’t follow me.” Um… excuse me? Does he realize how quickly he’s pushing me away? When midnight rolled around, another message from the future came in, as predictable as clockwork. The same line as always, like some persistent command: “Go to the Computer Science Department and find William Walker.” Remembering what happened earlier, I replied, frustrated, “I went today. Are you sure he’s the right guy? He doesn’t even know me, and he definitely doesn’t like me.” Underneath the frustration, I also felt a tiny bit hurt, though I wasn’t even sure why. Was it because I’d made a fool of myself? Or… because it was William? That one look he gave me through the window stayed with me. Maybe I felt a little… smitten. After two full minutes, the future-me replied. “No mistake. I’ve read his journals. All through school, he’s been quietly in love with you. Neither you nor I ever noticed it.” A quiet, years-long crush. I tried to remember if I’d ever noticed him, but I couldn’t. So I asked, “When did William start liking me?” Unexpectedly, future-me replied, “I don’t know.” “His love… it was too silent. I never sensed it.” “Anyway, you need to watch out for Chase Emerson. He’s a total fraud who’ll stop at nothing to hurt you. The only reason he failed in my world is because William gave up his own life for me. I want to save him. I want him to live.” I promised future-me I’d protect William. From that moment, I came up with a plan. First things first: avoid Chase Emerson. I had once liked him because he was kind to me, but I wasn’t a fool. After learning he was a walking disaster, I’d happily take the midnight train out of town before dating him. Second: find a way to get close to William. I went to the school’s message board, found his class schedule, and on mornings when I didn’t have classes, I brought two breakfasts and confidently walked into his classroom, sitting down right next to him. He looked like a startled hedgehog, all his spines raised. “What are you doing here?” His voice was as cold as steel. He was cute like this. Though his journal had supposedly recorded a long crush, in real life, he seemed determined to keep his distance from me. A classic case of saying one thing and doing another. I handed him a breakfast sandwich and coffee. “I brought you breakfast.” He tensed, studying me before giving a quick push, “I don’t want it.” But his eyes had given him away; I could tell he was tempted. He was a complete contradiction.

I admit I have my own agenda. My 28-year-old self only asked me to save William’s life, to make sure he survived, but here I am at 18—wanting him to be mine. The breakfast I brought him turned into a playful tug-of-war, back and forth between us. It was enough to catch the attention of the students sitting in front, who turned around with faces full of shock, as if they couldn’t believe someone would actually sit next to William, much less chat with him. When the bell rang, I took a deep breath and firmly grabbed his hand, pushing the breakfast into it. Softly, I said, “Come on, skipping breakfast isn’t good for you. I brought this just for you—take it, okay?” I was pretty good at being persuasive, and, sure enough, William froze the instant I held his hand, like he’d been jolted. This time he didn’t push it away, but he did set the breakfast on the corner of his desk, as if he didn’t plan on eating it. I sighed inwardly, telling myself there was plenty of time for him to warm up. But by the third day, he’d clearly had enough. He blocked my way in the hall, gripping my arm. To put it lightly, he looked like a cornered animal, all bristling intensity. “What exactly are you trying to do?” If anyone else had confronted me like that, I’d probably have bolted. But the look in his dark eyes, an angry shield that barely hid something raw and vulnerable, didn’t scare me—it made my heart ache. And before I could stop myself, I said, “I think I…kind of like you. So could you…like me back?” William’s hand dropped away. A second later, he broke into a grin. It was the first time I’d seen him smile, and it was dangerously captivating. Whatever fondness I’d felt before surged into something stronger, something dizzying.

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I got up in the middle of the night to feed the twins and noticed that Ryan was in the bathroom handling… certain needs. Given that I’m still breastfeeding and my stretch marks haven’t faded since the pregnancy, I wasn’t surprised by his lack of interest. But when I caught a glimpse of the photo on his phone, I completely lost it. He was looking at Vanessa Blackwood—a woman he briefly dated when we split up. I slapped him and asked, “Is this what you’ve been doing instead of touching me for over a year now?” Unfazed, he straightened his clothes, grinning as he replied, “Not just this year. Even when I had to provide a sample for the IVF treatment, I used her picture.” 1、Amanda Quinn My name is Amanda Quinn. Ryan and I have been married for five years, three of which we spent trying for children through IVF. After thousands of hormone injections and four rounds of IVF, we finally had our twins—a boy and a girl. Even though my body’s changed, and my stomach is covered in stretch marks, I still feel hopeful every time I look at our two precious babies. Life was supposed to only get better from here. One night, I got up to feed the twins and noticed Ryan wasn’t in bed. The bathroom light was off, but I could hear water running faintly inside. I had an idea of what might be going on. Since we found out I was pregnant, we’d stopped sleeping together as a precaution. Now, six months after the twins were born, he still hadn’t touched me. I could understand; breastfeeding and the stubborn stretch marks weren’t exactly appealing. But I had a hunch it was time to try and reconnect. I quietly opened the bathroom door and saw the faint glow of his phone screen. There was Ryan, back turned, one hand against the wall, the other moving… And suddenly, I felt a pang of sadness. Gently, I called his name and reached out to embrace him. I was ready to bring intimacy back to our marriage. But when Ryan turned, the lust in his eyes vanished the instant he saw me. And as he turned, I got a clear view of his phone screen. Vanessa Blackwood’s face stared back at me—his ex-girlfriend from the three months we’d been apart. Rage boiled over, and instead of reaching for him, I slapped him, hard. “Is this why you haven’t touched me for over a year? Just to keep looking at her picture?” He locked his phone, his excitement gone, and began calmly fixing his clothes as though nothing happened. But I wasn’t about to drop it. I grabbed his collar, demanding an explanation. Instead of remorse, he just looked me up and down with a smirk. What he said next broke me completely. He said, “It’s not just this past year. Even when I had to provide a sample for the IVF, I used her photo for that too.” 2、Amanda Quinn His words struck me like a lightning bolt. By the time he walked out of the bathroom, I was still standing there in shock. In the mirror, I caught sight of my reflection—disheveled and worn. No wonder he wasn’t interested. I remembered the first time he had to provide a sample at Northfield Fertility Clinic. The nurse had shown him to a private room, and he’d been in there for an unusually long time. Another woman there for IVF mentioned that sometimes, wives are allowed to assist. So, I knocked and asked if he needed me to help. Without even looking at me, he shut the door, locking it with a loud click. I’d assumed he was just shy. Little did I know he was in there using Vanessa’s photo instead. Now the thought that our children—our own flesh and blood—came from something so tainted was unbearable. But, maybe I’d brought this on myself. After all, we did break up before marriage, and it was me who had walked away. Ryan was two years younger, fresh out of school, with a shaky job and little ambition. He’d come home from work every night and just played video games, while the men around me were moving up the ladder, some even making six figures. My family kept pushing me to settle down, buy a home, get married. So, I talked to him about buying a place. His parents, working-class folks, offered to help with the down payment, leaving us to cover the mortgage. I didn’t mind, but my mom did. She pointed out how my cousins’ husbands had paid for their homes in full and even bought cars. If they could, why couldn’t Ryan? I understood my mom’s concerns and sympathized with his family’s situation, trying to balance both sides until I was exhausted. But Ryan didn’t seem to get it. I’d be working late, and he’d be gaming. I’d try to reassure my mom, and he’d be gaming. The final straw came when I asked him to view a house with me, and he made an excuse, only for me to come home and find him, controller in hand. Heartbroken, I ended it and packed his things into a single suitcase. When he left, he went to stay with a friend, and I threw myself into work, barely noticing as half a year slipped by. Meanwhile, he worked through the pain, and to my surprise, I felt lighter without the relationship. Suitors started appearing, many with excellent prospects. Then, out of nowhere, my best friend Stephanie called, telling me Ryan had a new girlfriend named Vanessa Blackwood—a girl who looked eerily like me. At first, I just felt sorry for him. He was clearly still hung up on me if he’d found himself a lookalike. But then, Stephanie said something that gave me pause. Apparently, Ryan had reflected deeply on himself after our breakup. He’d poured himself into work, even getting promoted and landing shares in a game his company had developed. He was a new man, and yet Vanessa was reaping the rewards of all my effort to shape him. Fueled by a mix of jealousy and regret, I realized I wanted him back. I returned to Bridgeport, just as he was dropping Vanessa off at Grand Central Station. I stood in the taxi line, watching him embrace her by his new car, and a wave of bitterness flooded my chest. For the first time since we split, I realized I still loved him. I waited by his car, and when he returned, I spoke up. “Ryan, I’m back.” He looked at me, eyes rimmed red, but didn’t move. I stepped forward and hugged him. “You finally grew up. All my hard work wasn’t for nothing.” He pushed me away, but then reached out to wipe my tears. I clung to him, and though he resisted, he hesitated just enough. “Why now?” he asked. “I have a girlfriend.” But a three-month relationship can’t compare to years, and I knew that. I pleaded with him for days, even bringing my mom into it. She hated Ryan, yet whatever she said to him changed his mind. He agreed to get back together, though he looked miserable about it. After those eight long months apart, our reunion felt like a new beginning. Ryan was now able to buy a house, even a car, and my mom’s opinion of him finally softened. We got married, and I assumed Vanessa was firmly in the past. But now, hearing him admit he still thought of her during IVF was a punch to the gut. 3、 I stormed out of the bathroom, hurling accusations until the twins woke up crying, and my mom, Diane, rushed into the room, alarmed by the commotion. By the time I explained what happened, she sank onto the couch, dazed. I checked her blood pressure—190. She’d been struggling to help me with the twins, and now this outburst had triggered her health issues. Ryan, to his credit, kept quiet and fetched her medication. As she rested, she began a tearful lecture. “Ryan, Amanda has sacrificed so much for you. Do you remember how she was there when you had nothing? We almost lost her back then when I pushed her to leave you. Without her, you wouldn’t be where you are today. Don’t think for a second that she came back just because you’re successful now. You owe her more than just your loyalty. And don’t think that other woman wants you for anything besides money. You should be grateful Amanda bore you those twins after all she went through.” Ryan stayed silent, but I could see his pride deflate. Early the next morning, he made a full breakfast spread—my mom’s favorite foods—showing his willingness to make amends. As days went by, he kept it up, taking care of the house, cooking, and watching over the twins so my mom could rest. He would work late only after the babies were asleep. I thought, maybe it was just a slip of the tongue in the heat of the moment, and I could forgive him. Then, tragedy struck. One night, my mom had a sudden stroke. She died before my father even had a chance to say goodbye. Grief and guilt consumed me. I was sure she’d overexerted herself helping me with the twins. During the funeral, I couldn’t stop crying. Ryan took charge, arranging everything as though he were her own son. He shouldered all the responsibilities I couldn’t, carrying the casket, greeting guests, and comforting my father. Neighbors murmured that my mom had chosen well; I had a dependable husband. After laying her to rest, the heaviness in my heart began to ease. I could finally feel a sense of peace, believing that Ryan’s commitment was deeper than any fleeting attraction to Vanessa Blackwood. 4、Ryan Mercer I’m Ryan Mercer—the “useless Ryan.” That’s what Amanda’s mother, Diane, called me the day Amanda kicked me out. Five years of love packed into a single suitcase, and there I was, a pathetic mess, clutching it while I wandered onto the city bus, completely lost. I didn’t know where to go, so I just rode the 25 route to the end of the line and back. Over and over, from afternoon until the buses stopped running. I sat at the terminal, crying like a dog. I knew I wasn’t good enough for her. I knew her mom was pressuring her, so I’d even gone to Diane myself to reassure her. But she didn’t hold back. “Loser,” “pathetic”… she called me every name in the book. I understood she just wanted the best for her daughter, but they never gave me a chance to prove myself. I told them I was developing a new game, but they thought it was just an excuse to slack off. Even then, I couldn’t stand the thought of her leaving. I couldn’t believe she’d just cut me loose and abandon everything we’d planned for the future. So, I stayed with a friend and tried to reach out to her, but she was always too busy to even remember we’d broken up. Meanwhile, I was wasting away, shedding over twenty pounds in the process. My mom was the only one who cared. She picked up an extra job after hours to save money and help me buy a house. She even went behind my back and approached Diane to tell her they could help us with the mortgage. But Diane shot that down in a heartbeat. “And what about a car?” she sneered. My mom suggested they could sell their own home to help us, but Diane laughed, saying, “What, after you die? I’m sure my daughter will wait that long for a car!” Then she delivered the final blow, telling my mom to tell me not to embarrass her daughter by hanging on. My mom came back and collapsed from the stress. That illness was the end of her—two months later, she died from complications. And I couldn’t blame anyone but myself; my weakness had killed her. Her death finally snapped my attachment to Amanda. At the funeral, I met Vanessa Blackwood. She worked at Green Hills Crematorium, and even in that grim setting, she was warm and optimistic. Initially, it was her appearance that caught my eye, but her character was what drew me in. She was unapologetically single by choice, detached from all the societal trappings that came with relationships. Her nonchalance toward life and death was a breath of fresh air, and her carefree nature brought me back to life. Inspired, I poured everything into my game development work, and success followed. For the first time, I was finding my own path. And just as Vanessa and I became serious, Amanda came back. She hooked me, played me like a puppet. She cried over how much she missed me, knowing just how to push my buttons and rekindle my guilt. She even claimed she’d only broken up with me to “inspire” me to grow. As ridiculous as it sounded, my heart softened. I let her worm her way back in, though I never intended to leave Vanessa. Then Diane got involved. She reached Vanessa before coming to me, showing her recordings of my desperate phone calls to Amanda after the breakup. She even played a recording of my mom’s visit, begging Diane for my chance. Vanessa wasn’t the type to be swayed easily, but Diane knew exactly how to break her resolve. After Vanessa refused to break up with me, Diane went straight to Green Hills, causing a scene, screaming that Vanessa was a homewrecker, that she was destroying her daughter’s life. By the time Vanessa was about to call the police, Diane coolly apologized, claiming it was a “mistake.” Then she whispered that she’d be back—and next time, it wouldn’t be a mistake. She’d keep showing up and keep disrupting Vanessa’s life until she walked away. And Vanessa did. Before she left, she looked Diane in the eyes and said, “Once I’m gone, I’ll be his ‘one that got away.’ Amanda will forever live in my shadow.” In that moment, hearing her voice on the recording Diane so proudly played for me, I felt the last of my happiness slip through my fingers. I stood there, expressionless, watching Diane’s smug face as resentment bloomed inside me. Every humiliation, every grievance I’d endured resurfaced. Diane had destroyed my mother. Amanda had treated me like dirt. And now, with Diane’s help, Amanda was back in my life. They wanted this marriage? Fine. I would give it to them, and everything they thought they wanted. I acted unsure, reluctantly giving in to their pressure, and eventually, Amanda and I got married. She soon began nudging me about putting her name on the deed, and I pretended to go along. I told her I’d buy a house and put her name on the title. The smile didn’t even reach her face. Diane quickly started dropping hints, telling me how all her cousins had homes under their wives’ names. I’d nod, play along, and wait. Finally, Amanda and I found a place we liked and waited for a promotional discount to hit. Conveniently, I had a “business trip” during the sale days. Diane and Amanda panicked, calling me several times to transfer the funds. I played along, wiring the money. Predictably, they finalized the sale in Amanda’s name only. I returned with every bank record in hand. Diane then suggested it was time I bought a new car and “gently persuaded” me to sell my old one. She finalized the new car paperwork under Amanda’s name while I was “away.” Once it was done, they were sure everything was secure, and only then did we sign the marriage license. As far as they were concerned, the car and house were all “premarital assets.” Right before the wedding, I met Vanessa one last time. She saw my frustration and reassured me, “Don’t be sad. With me, you may never have kids or a marriage. I’d rather be your ‘one that got away’ than the leftovers on your plate.” When I asked if she’d regret never getting married or having a legacy, she laughed, saying she’d donate her eggs if she wanted to leave something behind. After that meeting, I began to see things differently. Maybe this marriage could work in my favor. More than a year into our marriage, Amanda began worrying she wasn’t getting pregnant. Diane was quick to plant doubts, hinting that men “so big and strong” as me might still have hidden issues. This was followed by thinly veiled threats of financial “compensation” if I was “deceitful.” So, with Diane’s push, we began our long, frustrating journey through fertility treatments. No luck. Nothing seemed wrong, but we weren’t conceiving. I admit, I sabotaged it a bit here and there. Eventually, we landed on the option of IVF. And that’s when my show began. Everything was playing out exactly as I wanted. The night Amanda caught me in the bathroom, I’d intentionally turned the water on loud enough for her to hear. She came to wrap her arms around me, and I pulled up Vanessa’s photo just as she got close enough to see. The moment she raised her hand to hit me, I knew I had her. I told her I’d even used Vanessa’s photo during the IVF sample collection, watching as her final bit of composure shattered. Predictably, Diane woke up from the argument, her blood pressure spiking immediately. I jumped into the role of the “manipulated son-in-law,” appearing the very next morning to make Diane’s favorite breakfast. Every meal I cooked for her was packed with high sodium, high-fat content, things that would worsen her condition. She’d sit, eat, barely moving afterward. I even brought her extra snacks. Within days, she suffered a stroke on the toilet. After the funeral, I stared at myself in the mirror, watching as my face twisted into a grin. Was it cruel? Not nearly enough. The real show had just begun.

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Aunt May Harper is our housekeeper. She’s usually quiet, looks like an honest, simple woman, and is 22 years older than my husband, Henry. I never thought twice about her. But lately, I’ve noticed something odd—our dog Lucky has been missing more often… 0“Aunt May, why are you washing my husband’s underwear again?” Aunt May Harper is the housekeeper we hired; she’s 48 and isn’t much of a talker, except when she’s doing chores. She comes across as very honest and down-to-earth. She wears clothes her daughter-in-law didn’t want anymore, and every month she sends her paycheck back home to support her two-year-old grandson. Even if she’s washing Henry’s underwear, I don’t suspect a thing. Her age alone could make her Henry’s mom. Usually, I just tell her once or twice not to do it again, and that’s the end of it. Aunt May looked a little stunned, put down what she was doing, and said, a little awkwardly, “I was tidying up earlier and saw them dirty on the bed, so I grabbed them to wash. I’ll remember not to next time.” Aunt May’s apology was sincere, and I didn’t want to be harsh with her. The woman had a rough life—her husband was paralyzed, her two sons never amounted to much, and she lost her only daughter. With everyone relying on her, she’s had enough hardship for a lifetime. “Alright.” I nodded. Ever since I got pregnant, I had Henry hand-wash both his and my clothes. I don’t like anyone else handling my personal laundry. I’m six months along now, and in a few more months, I’ll be a mom. “Aunt May, I’m hungry; make something to eat,” I said, keeping it simple. “Shouldn’t we wait for Henry?” she asked. Henry comes home every night around 7; it was only 4, and I’m used to dinner being made around 6. I think I’m pretty considerate of Aunt May. She only cooks three meals daily, not the eight other housekeepers are sometimes expected to prepare. And when I get hungry in the middle of the night, I have Henry go make food for me—I try not to bother her. But here she was asking if we should wait. Just because Henry wasn’t home, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t eat! “No, make it now. I’m hungry,” I replied, a little irritated. What was going on in Aunt May’s head? I hired her to look after me, not Henry. I ask for food, she makes it—what’s all the fuss? Maybe I was overly sensitive, thanks to being pregnant, but Aunt May’s comment didn’t sit right. She nodded reluctantly, saying, “Alright… I’ll make it now.” She headed for the kitchen, and I made my way to the living room. Aunt May made my favorites: savory mushroom stir-fry, tofu with preserved egg, green bean pork stew, and a pot of hearty gourd soup. Aunt May cooked well—her food was always delicious and her kitchen skills swift, and I did like that about her. After eating, I sprawled out on the couch with my phone. Suddenly, the smell of pork hock soup filled the air, and I froze. Why was Aunt May cooking pork hock? I was already done with dinner. “Aunt May, you making pork hock soup?” I asked, unable to resist. “Yup! Got it in the pressure cooker,” she called from the kitchen. That smell was so rich, my stomach growled again. My mom had bought those pork hocks herself from a farm—she said they came from pigs fed on grain and freshly butchered. Mom assured me that soup from those hocks would taste better than anything store-bought. A few hours passed, and Henry finally got home. As soon as he stepped through the door, I perked up, smiling. “Hey, honey.” He had strawberries in hand—my absolute favorite. “You’re back! Change your shoes; dinner’s ready.” I’d just slipped into my house slippers and was about to greet him when Aunt May beat me to the door. She took his coat and hung it up, even bending down to set out his slippers. She then casually returned to the kitchen like nothing unusual happened. My clueless husband walked over with a grin, saying, “Look, honey—strawberries!” He must have sensed I was a little annoyed but would never guess the reason. What was wrong with me? Was I seriously jealous of a 48-year-old woman? Did she have a thing for Henry, or was I just overly sensitive? 0

“Nothing’s wrong,” I muttered. “Let’s eat.” Aunt May served the dishes: Kung Pao chicken, the pork hock soup, stir-fried mushrooms, and sweet and sour fish. “Wow, it all looks amazing! I’ll just go wash my hands,” Henry said, giving me a quick peck on the cheek before heading to the bathroom. He had no idea I’d already eaten. I sat at the table, looking at the fresh dishes and feeling annoyed again. “Aunt May, why did you make new dishes? Where are my leftovers?” She chuckled nervously. “Oh, I… I ate them.” Just then, Henry emerged from the bathroom. “Aunt May, you don’t have to eat leftovers,” he said. “From now on, just join us.” “Oh, no, that wouldn’t be right.” Aunt May glanced at me and then back at Henry. “There’s nothing wrong with it; join us.” Henry smiled, oblivious to my annoyance. I put down my chopsticks and, in a low voice, asked, “Henry Graham, what do you mean by that?” Aunt May quickly ducked back into the kitchen, saying, “I’ll just go wash the dishes.” She shut the kitchen door behind her, avoiding eye contact. Henry looked at me, bewildered, then picked up a piece of fish and put it on my plate. “Honey, what’s got you mad? Whatever it is, I’ll fix it.” That’s my husband for you—always clueless as to why I’m upset and incapable of reflecting on his own. I’m usually straightforward, so I said, “When did I ever tell Aunt May to eat leftovers?” When Aunt May cooks, she takes a small portion out for herself and eats at a little table in the kitchen. That’s her space, so why would she suddenly be eating the food I’d set aside for Henry? The plan was for her to heat it up for him when he got home. “My mistake, totally my mistake,” Henry said, tapping his lips with his hand. “Honey, you’re pregnant; don’t get upset.” Staring at the spread on the table, I’d lost my appetite entirely. “And why did you invite Aunt May to eat with us? What were you thinking?” I asked, keeping my voice low. In my opinion, it’s best to maintain some boundaries; getting too close just makes things awkward. My cousin learned that the hard way when she got overly friendly with her housekeeper, only to have the woman refuse to leave when she was let go. She even accused my cousin of being ungrateful for not remembering all the care she’d given her during her postpartum recovery, forgetting that she’d been hired for that very job. Henry put down his chopsticks and raised his voice, clearly agitated. “What was I thinking? Aunt May is busy taking care of you; why can’t she eat with us?” “Henry Graham, you’re a jerk!” I shoved his shoulder, stormed off to our bedroom, and locked the door. He knocked, pleading, “Honey, come on. Open the door; I’m sorry, alright?” I sighed. When I’d married him, my parents disapproved, said he wasn’t stable enough, and didn’t trust him since he was from out of state. But I’d insisted. Though they’d come around, Henry always carried a chip on his shoulder, thinking my family looked down on him. In his eyes, me not wanting Aunt May at the table was a sign I was looking down on her, the same way he thought my parents looked down on him. By 10 p.m., he was back at the door, apologizing again, “Honey, open up. I really am sorry.” I grabbed his pillow and blanket, opened the door, and handed them to him. “You’re sleeping on the couch tonight,” I said flatly. My mood was so sour; I just wanted to be alone. He took the pillow and blanket, nodding. “Alright, but make sure you close the window tonight, so you don’t catch a chill.” I nodded, shutting the door behind him. As I lay in bed, my mind wandered. If I’d been born into the same circumstances as Henry, would I have ended up sensitive and insecure like him? His mother left him when he was six, his dad was always working, and his grandma was the one who raised him. But he’d pulled himself up, put himself through college, and within three years of graduation, he’d made supervisor at a major tech firm. It’s no good letting him sleep on the couch. He has to work tomorrow. I glanced at the clock: 1 a.m. I got out of bed, opened the door, and turned on the living room light—only to see Aunt May sleeping on the couch, wrapped up in Henry’s blanket. My hands clenched into fists. “Henry Graham, where are you?” 0

Aunt May jolted awake, visibly startled, and looked up at me. She rubbed her eyes, coming over to whisper, “Sam, don’t yell. Henry’s in my room, sleeping. He’s got work tomorrow.” She had given Henry the guest room, taking the couch for herself. Aunt May sure was going above and beyond for him. Just then, Henry emerged from the guest room, rubbing his eyes, wearing only his underwear. He looked exhausted. “What’s going on, honey?” he asked, yawning. “Who told you to sleep in Aunt May’s room? And put some clothes on!” I snapped, tossing a pillow at him. He grinned sheepishly, saying, “I just forgot in my hurry.” He looked at me questioningly. “So… can I come back to our room now?” He gathered up his blanket and pillow and went back into our bedroom, closing the door behind him as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Aunt May, too, seemed unfazed, as if she found my reaction overblown. But I could barely contain my frustration. Should I tell her to keep her distance from my husband? To stop being so attentive? Finally, I muttered, “Aunt May, just go to bed. You don’t need to help with my husband.” “Yes, of course. I’ll remember that,” she replied, nodding. I went back into the bedroom, slamming the door. Henry was lying in bed, smiling at me, “Come to bed, honey.” I climbed in, grabbing a pillow and whacking him with it. “Who told you to sleep in Aunt May’s room? What’s going on between you two?” He looked at me, clearly baffled, and sighed, resting a hand on my belly. “Honey, I know your hormones are all over the place. But Aunt May’s old enough to be my mom, and honestly, she’s not even attractive. I’d have to be blind.” “Then why are you sleeping in her room, letting her use your blanket and pillow? If you’re not into her, how do you know she’s not into you?” I whispered, glaring. Henry snorted, laughing. “That couch is way too small. She just offered me her room for the night. If you want Aunt May gone, just fire her and hire someone new.” That suggestion felt right to me. “Alright, then let’s fire Aunt May.” 0

The next day, I didn’t get up until noon. Aunt May had already set the table with food, her eyes slightly red as though she’d been crying. As soon as I sat down, she spoke up, “Sam, why do you suddenly want to fire me? Did I do something wrong? Just tell me, and I’ll fix it.” Her voice was shaky and fearful, and she clung to my arm like her life depended on it. “Sam, please, let me stay. I’ll take such good care of you,” she pleaded, looking genuinely distressed. I gave her a reasonable excuse. “Aunt May, my mom’s coming to take care of me. You know I’m not working, and Henry’s paycheck alone isn’t that much. We need to cut down on costs.” Aunt May looked crushed and quickly replied, “I’ll take a pay cut! Don’t make me leave, okay?” A pay cut? For someone like Aunt May, who could easily find work elsewhere, this was unnecessary. Could she really have feelings for my husband? She gave a tight, awkward smile when I didn’t answer right away. “Sam, it’s already the 23rd. Could I just work until the end of the month? Just one more week to find a new job?” I considered her request, but something about letting her stay for another week made me uneasy. I was six months pregnant, and I couldn’t risk anything happening with just the two of us home. Trying to stay calm, I said, “Aunt May, you’re reliable and hardworking. I’m sure you’ll find work in no time. You’ve taken great care of me, so just think of these seven days as paid leave. I’ll give you a full month’s salary.” Of course, my mom had no idea I planned to let Aunt May go. With Henry and my parents not getting along, I hadn’t asked them to stay with me. Not only did I want to avoid family drama, but I didn’t want my mom overextending herself at her age. Aunt May’s expression turned dark, but she managed to rein it in, “Fine, I won’t overstay my welcome. I’ll start packing.” She returned to the guest room, taking half an hour to gather her things. When she came out, she had a black bag slung over her shoulder and two shopping totes in hand. “Sam, could you pay me today?” she asked. Since her pay typically came on the 10th, I agreed and transferred her final month’s pay through the app. She glanced at her phone, sneered, and in an instant, her demeanor changed completely. “Sam Taylor, you’re really something. So high and mighty, just because you’re pregnant? Henry’s patience with your moods is a blessing. In my hometown, a wife like you would have been thrown out ages ago!” She spat out the words, and for a moment, I was speechless. Who would have thought such vile words could come from Aunt May, of all people? I regretted giving her the extra week’s pay, especially since she hadn’t been hired through an agency, which meant I couldn’t even file a complaint. “Couldn’t even let me eat at the table with you,” she added, her tone scathing. With someone like her, you never knew when she might seek revenge. “Get out of my house,” I said coldly. She looked at my stomach, smirked, and said, “You’ll never have a son. Just a spoiled little girl.” “May Harper, if you don’t leave right now, I’ll call the police.” I couldn’t take it any longer and threatened her.

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When Brandon Ashford’s old flame came back into his life, I took our son and flew to America. People said I didn’t even register on their radar, that I was nothing but a worthless, spoiled wife, hiding from a fight like an ostrich with its head in the sand. But someday, I’d walk tall and watch them all eat their words beneath my feet. 0Brandon’s high school sweetheart, Claire, is back. Back in senior year, he entered the Young Innovators Award and met Claire Emerson. I’d heard she was pretty, clever, outgoing, and came from an affluent family. The two of them were young, in love, and even planned to go to the same university. But things didn’t work out that way—Brandon was accepted to Harvard, but Claire… who knows what happened with her? I figured they broke up because of the distance. But then a mutual friend dropped the real story on me. “Jazz, didn’t you know? That girl tried to blackmail Brandon by threatening to end her own life if he went to Harvard! She actually tried to trap him into staying with her.” Blackmail? Threats? Giving up Harvard? I shook my head. This story sounded like something out of a cheesy romance novel. Brandon and I, meanwhile, were childhood friends. Our families had been partners in business for generations. Years ago, when my father’s mistress showed up, taunting my mom over the phone, my mom flew back to the U.S. in the middle of the night. That led me to apply to Harvard, where Brandon and I ended up in the same program. When I saw him again, I was taken aback by how much he’d grown into his looks. But strangely, I didn’t feel any of those romantic sparks. Our connection was more like an unspoken understanding—a bond that felt familiar, like the relationship between our parents. I’d thought my mom would divorce my dad, but she didn’t. She told me, “Love and marriage aren’t the same. We’ve been married for years, and we trust each other. We’re also tied together by shared businesses and a social network that isn’t easily untangled. And if that other woman’s showing up at our door, it just proves her stupidity. If your father had any intention of being with her, she wouldn’t have had to resort to that.” “But Dad still cheated,” I whispered, looking down. “You always told me, ‘Once a cheater, always a cheater.’” My mom just smiled knowingly. “Maybe so, but remember, that woman claimed your father was with her at Lakewood Hot Springs on the day he was actually in Hong Kong with your grandparents.” I blinked. My mind was spinning. “Jazz, no matter whom you marry—business partner or not—remember this: love clouds reason. Never act on impulse.” “Then why did you storm back to the States that time?” I asked, grinning. She laughed again. “Otherwise, how would I have gotten you to give up Charleston and go to Harvard?” 0

I’d been played. All my life, I’d dreamed of the romantic charm of Charleston, of living on a sprawling estate in the middle of a sea of lavender. But as the sole heir of the Eastwood Family business, I had to put in the effort if I wanted the freedom to live as I pleased. So, when Claire asked me to meet up, I agreed. She came bursting with excitement, eager to show me her memories with Brandon and their matching tattoos. She preened like a proud peacock, and I barely contained my laughter. “It’s rare to see a mistress be this bold,” scoffed my friend Erica, my childhood friend with a firecracker temper and a sharp tongue. “Bold?” Claire arched an eyebrow. “This is love. What’s bold about that? I came here to make you face reality, stop hiding, and pretending I don’t exist. Brandon told me I’m the one he loves, the one he cares about, the one he can’t live without. You two have nothing in common, yet you cling to the title of Mrs. Ashford? Why not just let him go? I’ll make sure Brandon gives you a generous settlement. You’re still young…” “Smack!” Erica’s face went red with fury, and her hand landed across Claire’s face. Claire blinked in shock, then clutched her cheek and screeched, “How dare you hit me?” Her shouting pierced the quiet of the private room, and curious staff couldn’t help peeking in to check if we needed assistance. I was stunned—not because Erica hit her, but because Claire was screaming like a madwoman, even reaching to grab Erica’s hair. And she actually had the nerve to say I was “clinging” to the title of Mrs. Ashford? That I was just a housewife? “Tell Brandon to ask for a divorce if that’s what he wants. I’ll walk away on the spot,” I said calmly, letting the chaos simmer down. Claire looked taken aback. “All this, and you’re still holding on? I didn’t realize you were so stubborn.” She gave a smug smile. “Fine, I’ll have Brandon come to you, then. Just don’t cry and refuse when he asks for it.” I nodded, pulled Erica to her feet, and left. “Hey, you haven’t paid!” Claire called out. I glanced at the untouched tea, totaling over $400. Smiling, I replied, “The owner is a friend of mine, so it’s on my tab. If you can’t finish, feel free to take it home.” 0

In the days that followed, Brandon never mentioned a word about divorce. Everything seemed normal—except he started coming home a bit later than usual. I asked him about it, and he said an old friend wanted to start a new project and was looking for investors. He was still considering it. I asked him to send over the details. Sure enough, when I opened the file, Claire Emerson was listed as one of the founders. And after looking through the pitiful revenue and chaotic financials, I just shook my head. Here she was, trying to get investors for this disaster of a company, in an economy where everyone else was tightening their belts. She had some nerve. “What do you think?” Brandon asked. I hadn’t let on yet that Claire had already come to see me. We’d been married for years now, and we already had a son. We were even considering trying for a girl. A nice, balanced family. But here comes Claire, dropping back into our lives, just as my mother would call it—a disruption to what was really a business alliance between our families. Childhood friends, families with deeply interwoven ties—it was complicated. So complicated that a single change could pull everything apart. I just couldn’t believe Brandon would cheat, let alone get a divorce. “I think it’s best to be cautious,” I replied. “Since you’re more familiar with this field, you should handle it.” Relieved, I handed him a bowl of special soup I’d made for his stomach issues. He took it with a smile, not needing to ask what it was. The next day, I came to the office with a fully prepared proposal. I’d hardly been in the office recently, with us trying for another child, so the long-time employees looked at me with surprise, clearly curious. The newer employees didn’t even know who I was. Just as I reached Brandon’s office, I heard Claire’s familiar voice, pleading, “Brandon, please, you’ve got to help me. This is my dream!” Brandon didn’t reply. I knocked and opened the door. Claire was sitting next to him on the sofa, casually leaning close. Her low-cut dress practically invited the world to see her bra. I ignored her, calmly setting my papers on the desk. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything?” “Not at all, babe! This is Claire, the one I told you about,” Brandon replied quickly, standing up like he’d been shocked and moving to my side. I caught the flash of irritation in Claire’s eyes as she looked innocently at Brandon. “Jazz, you’re gorgeous! I’m surprised he never mentioned you.” Right. As if my existence was something she had to be “informed” about. After all, she managed to walk right in, didn’t she? Brandon looked uncomfortable, and I smirked. “Since when do people talk about their families with strangers?” I handed him a thermos. “I heard you have a drinking event tonight, so I made this for you. I’ve got plans to meet Mrs. Young for tea later.” He smiled gratefully; he didn’t even need to open it to know what was inside. But Claire didn’t let it go. “Oh, I’ll be at that dinner too! Jazz, what’s in the thermos? Could I try some?” Brandon frowned, setting the thermos aside. “This isn’t something just anyone should drink, Claire.” “Is it some kind of miracle hangover remedy?” She laughed lightly, pouting, “I thought all those housewives making home remedies was a soap opera trope, but I guess it’s real after all…” Neither of us laughed, and the room grew tense. Brandon’s grandmother, after all, was a well-known herbalist, and she’d created that particular recipe just for his stomach. Obviously, Claire had no idea. I sighed, realizing that this woman didn’t seem to have much upstairs. Nothing about her added up, and she wasn’t at all the type I’d imagine Brandon would like. With anyone else, he’d probably have already blown up at them. But for Claire, his patience seemed endless. After an uncomfortable silence, he looked at her with an unreadable expression. “Jazz knows a lot about the food industry, Claire. If you really want to go forward with this, why don’t you talk it over with her?” Huh? I was surprised. I could see why he wouldn’t want to reject her outright, but what was this about food? According to the file, her company was all about couples’ apps, nothing to do with the restaurant industry. But Claire missed my surprise and went on, oblivious. “Brandon, do you really think that someone who spends all her time having lunches and afternoon teas has industry knowledge? This is different. Plus, I’m opening a cat café targeting young professionals and students…” She looked at me with a challenging gleam in her eye. “You and I can handle the business discussions, Jazz. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your busy schedule of lunch dates.” I almost laughed. Was she serious? She couldn’t have done any real research if she thought she could look down on me like this. I, Jasmine Eastwood, eldest of the Eastwood Family and a Harvard economics PhD, “just” did lunches and teas? Did she have any idea how much a class taught by me would cost? I stared at her, amused by her smugness, even as I saw a hint of irritation in Brandon’s face. Why was he holding back? Was it because of his lingering feelings for her? He glanced at me apologetically. “I have a meeting soon, Claire. Talk to Jazz about it, as I suggested.” With that, he answered his phone and hurried out, leaving just the two of us. Claire dropped her act, sneering at me. “You really are something else, putting on this whole act to get his sympathy, showing up with soup and your pretty face. But Brandon and I are in this together. You? You can cook him soup. A housekeeper could do the same. Aside from spending his money, what else can you do?” “Talk business with you, obviously,” I said dryly, nodding toward the documents on the desk. “Brandon’s orders.” “Oh, come on,” she scoffed, her voice dripping with contempt. “He’s just being polite, letting you save face so you don’t accuse him of transferring your assets to me. You think he respects you? He’s just afraid you’ll embarrass him and drag the company down.” I stared at her, hardly believing her arrogance. The fact that she felt so comfortable speaking about “transferring assets” showed me she really didn’t know much. My silence made her bolder. “Brandon is so good to me, and not just with this. Tonight, at that big event, he’s taking me with him. Did you know I’m the first woman he’s brought along? It shows I’m the one he truly loves. You’re just sad, really. Married to him all these years and he’s never invited you. Poor thing…” She looked at me triumphantly. “It must be humiliating, huh? Go ahead, cry if you want to. Failed love, a failed marriage—it’s not the end of the world. You’re still pretty enough, and even if your family background’s not as great, Brandon would still give you a decent payout. Just let go. If you make a scene, you might not even get alimony.” I couldn’t help myself; I burst out laughing. I wasn’t just amused by her ridiculous logic but by her complete inability to understand what mattered to me. Love, feelings—those were trivial. What I cared about was control, and I had plenty of it. My career, my finances, my status—and yes, even my marriage. I had a child with Brandon, after all. And the fate of her so-called project was entirely in my hands. I looked at her blandly. “Stop dreaming. That glitch-riddled app or your cat café? Neither is getting any funding from us.” But Claire smiled, undeterred. “Jazz, don’t kid yourself. If I’m here, and if Brandon’s letting me ask in front of you, then it’s important to him. He’ll say yes.” I watched her saunter out and opened the window, letting the strong scent of her perfume blow away. With it went any uncertainty I might have felt. That night, I waited for Brandon to come home. At four in the morning, he stumbled in, reeking of alcohol and perfume—Dior J’adore, which I’d never worn. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Williams, shook her head in disapproval as she helped him into the bedroom. “I’ll make some sobering soup for him, Jazz,” she offered, seeing my expression. “Sweetheart,” he mumbled, trying to pull me into a hug. “Sit down. We need to talk,” I said, brushing him off. Claire had already confronted me, hinting at a romance and asking me to divorce him. His arm went stiff, but all he did was slur, “I love you, babe,” before passing out. I sighed. You can’t wake someone who’s faking sleep. The next morning, he’d already left for a sudden business trip to Seattle. But things took a turn when Mrs. Williams came to me, looking worried. “Jazz, I think Evan has a fever.” 0

I hurriedly called for a driver, and we rushed Evan to the hospital with Mrs. Williams by my side. Thankfully, it wasn’t flu season, so the private hospital was fairly empty, and the admission process went smoothly. I stayed with Evan until he fell asleep, then handed him over to Mrs. Williams so I could grab a quick bite in the small waiting room. Erica, who’d shown up by then, was furious. She slapped the table in frustration. “Jazz, I’m telling you—there’s something going on with Brandon and that woman. Call him right now. I don’t care about any business deal; he needs to get back here! Let’s see if he values money more than you and his son.” “It’s hardly comparable,” I replied, trying to keep my calm. Despite my own frustration, I’d been holding back. “He can’t hide forever; we can wait a couple of days.” “But Evan is sick!” “Evan has a doctor. It’s not as if Brandon’s one himself.” “See, that’s the problem!” Erica groaned, exasperated. “You’ve let him get too comfortable, Jazz. You’re way too good to him!” “Am I?” I chuckled to myself. This wasn’t about being good to Brandon; it was about protecting my son and myself. I wasn’t about to explode without solid evidence and give Claire—or anyone else—the satisfaction of seeing me unravel. Making a scene would just leave me looking petty and hysterical. “Oh, I wouldn’t be so sure he’s alone,” Erica muttered darkly, giving me a pointed look. “I bet he’s on this trip with her.” “Maybe not,” I said, finishing my cake and motioning toward the door. “Look—speak of the devil.” “What?” Still steaming, Erica whipped open the door and saw Claire approaching. Without missing a beat, she let loose. “You must have a bloodhound’s sense of smell to sniff out an opportunity like this!” Claire didn’t flinch. If anything, she smiled pleasantly, putting down a gift-wrapped drone on the table. “I heard Evan wasn’t well, and with Brandon out of town, I thought I’d drop by to visit and bring him a little gift.” She glanced at me, eyes twinkling. “Rough night, Jazz? Looks like you didn’t get much sleep. I guess Brandon told you he’s decided to invest in my cat café?” “Excuse me?” Her words took me by surprise, but I kept my face neutral. “He didn’t mention that. But if he plans to make any decisions, he’ll need the approval of the majority shareholder.” I pushed the drone back toward her. “Take this with you. My son doesn’t need your gifts.” “Really?” She feigned shock, flashing a syrupy smile. “Funny, he seemed to like the sneakers, the overalls, and the Lego set that Brandon picked out with me. Didn’t he tell you?” Her words hit me like a punch, tearing down any patience I had left. I felt a surge of heat, and in that instant, every shred of composure shattered. All the principles of self-control and dignity flew out the window. She had no right to even look at my son, much less give him anything! I was shaking as I grabbed the box and hurled it at her.

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When Mrs. Elaine Sterling handed me a check for a million dollars to leave Maxwell Sterling, I didn’t hesitate. I had spent five years with him, giving up the best years of my life without any title, any recognition. That million felt like little compensation. Word of this reached Max quickly. Later, I heard he even skipped an important meeting to rush over to see me. Content When Max arrived at The Beacon Apartments he’d bought for me, I was packing my things. “What’s this supposed to mean?” he demanded, his face as dark as a storm cloud. Knowing him as well as I did after so many years, I could tell he was furious. “Mr. Sterling, your mother’s paying me a million to leave you. What’s so hard to understand?” I replied, giving him my best smile, trying not to appear too beaten down. The words only made him angrier. He spoke through clenched teeth, “Go if you want, but don’t regret it later.” Then he slammed the door on his way out. Over the years, Max had treated me well—at least in material ways. He had kept me like a canary in a gilded cage, surrounded by designer bags and luxury watches, never denying me anything I wanted. And had I stayed, I knew that million wouldn’t be the last he’d ever give me. But I’d grown tired. I wouldn’t have given in to this if I hadn’t heard that Genevieve Harrison was back from her studies abroad. Max’s fiancée—his mother’s ideal match for him. The woman I would never be. It took less than thirty minutes to finish packing. I had nowhere to go, so I turned to my best friend, Maya Lane. Unfortunately, her boyfriend was there, and I found myself the third wheel. Maya apologized with a sympathetic look—after all, I hadn’t called in advance—so I booked a room at The St. Laurent Hotel. It was the same hotel Max and I used to stay at when he’d had a bit too much to drink and needed a place to crash nearby. He never let himself lose control around others, but when he did, his secretary, Mr. Charles Blake, would always call me. When I checked in, the front desk clerk recognized me. She smiled, “Mr. Sterling isn’t with you tonight?” I shook my head, keeping my tone casual. “Mr. Sterling and I are no longer involved.” She looked taken aback. My relationship with Max wasn’t a secret among the social elite—everyone knew Max was a sought-after bachelor, and I was just the woman he kept on the side. With my check-in complete, I drew a hot bath, filling it with rose petals, enjoying their soft fragrance. Max was allergic to pollen, so I’d never taken a rose-petal bath around him. Yet, as I lay there in the steaming water, I felt like something was missing. I stayed at the hotel for three days until Maya came looking for me. She knew about my breakup with Max and wanted to take me on a trip to clear my head. But the day before we were supposed to leave, she got called into work for an emergency. Our girls’ trip quickly became a solo trip. So, I headed alone to Savannah, Georgia.

The moment I boarded the plane, Max called me. The phone rang for a while, and just as a flight attendant was reminding me to turn off my phone, a text came through: “I’ll say this once—if you’re done with your tantrum, come back.” I stared at the short message, and memories from four years ago surfaced. It was the first time I’d thrown a tantrum at him, shortly after I’d learned about Genevieve. I’d downed a lot of wine and stumbled back to him in a half-drunken haze, confronting him in his study, draped in a nightgown, asking if his work or I was more important. He’d been furious, taking off his glasses to glare at me. “Cassidy,” he’d said icily, “I’m working. Get out.” Ignoring him, I’d refused to leave until he’d thrown me, coat and all, out of his place. Standing in the deserted estate neighborhood, shivering in the cold, I’d felt a pang of regret but stayed stubbornly silent. Before long, Max showed up, his expression unreadable as he looked down at me, asking, “Had enough?” I’d stubbornly bitten my frozen lips, just as a sneeze escaped, making him smirk, his eyes softening slightly. He’d crouched down to offer a hand, but I’d refused it, still too proud to accept his help. His voice had turned harsh, “I’ll say it once—if you’re done, come back.” True to his word, he’d walked off without looking back. I’d shouted after him, “Give me my bag!” “Cassidy, I bought that bag for you. If you don’t plan to come back, you won’t be taking it.” That moment was a wake-up call. The designer bags, the LV, the Hermès—everything was from him. And from that moment on, I knew what I was to him. I’d spent five quiet years by his side after that. But now, sitting on the plane, I deleted his message without another glance. After two hours in the air, I landed at Savannah’s airport. And in a stroke of bad luck, my bag went missing almost as soon as I’d arrived. At the Savannah City Police Station, the local cops were practically eyeing my designer outfit, silently asking who else would someone want to rob? Unable to speak the successfully, penniless, without any identification, I had no way to prove who I was. An officer handed me a phone and told me to call someone who could help. My parents had died in an accident when I was young, and my grandmother had raised me until she passed away before she could enjoy her retirement. Max had come into my life soon after she’d gone—a burst of light in my shadowed world. Out of options, I called Max, dialing again and again, the unanswered ringing only reminding me that his light was no longer a part of my life. By late afternoon, a kind young man approached and offered to help. His name was Derek Chandler, a fellow American who happened to be at the station. Seeing me alone and distressed, he helped me communicate with the police. Once I left the station, I changed my phone number and cut all ties with Max. But sometimes, I’d still come across news of him. Photos of Max and Genevieve shopping, him smiling down at her, looking the way I’d once dreamed he’d look at me. Their elegant appearances at ribbon-cutting events, announcements of their upcoming “wedding of the century.” I remained in Savannah, where Derek and I became good friends. With his help, I found work at Global Exports Inc., a company involved in a partnership that allowed me to rebuild my career. After being Max’s “canary” for five years, I’d lost all sense of independence, but slowly, with Derek’s support, I found my way again. We kept each other company, two lonely souls leaning on one another. Yet no one had warned us that bringing together two people’s solitude didn’t make things warmer. Standing on a balcony one evening, looking over the Savannah skyline, I asked him, “Why do you stay here?” He looked back, sadness in his eyes. It was the night of the 4th of July Fireworks Festival, and the flickering lights cast shadows across his face as he told me about his past. He’d come to Savannah to keep a promise to his late fiancée, who’d always wanted to see this festival. “They say, if you make a wish to the fireworks, it’ll come true,” he told me. I knew he was thinking of her as he said it. She hadn’t made it; she’d died in his arms. Closing my eyes, I closed my hands and made a silent wish to forget Max. Time passed, and work kept me busy. But sometimes, I still had to deal with harassment from a lecherous boss who would use work as an excuse to touch me or make suggestive jokes. Derek put a stop to it, coming to the office one day and pretending to be my boyfriend. From then on, the boss left me alone, and I was free of other unwanted attention. After nearly two years in Savannah, I received an assignment to return to New York for a project. Packing up, I flew back with some of my international colleagues. As soon as we landed, a driver from the company met us at JFK, guiding us to The St. Laurent Hotel. Standing in the doorway, I felt memories flood over me, stirring emotions I’d long buried. But when I saw that the receptionist had changed, I felt my shoulders relax, tightening my grip on my suitcase as I heard, “Hello, Mr. Sterling. Hello, Ms. Harrison…”

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When the Lawson family fell from grace, I was adopted by Caleb Foster. He spoiled me like a princess, envied by everyone. For eighteen years, I secretly harbored feelings for him. On the night of my coming of age, I boldly expressed my love. He said that since it was my choice, I should bear the consequences of his coldness. Later, he abandoned me while I was pregnant, all for his first love. After losing the baby alone, I chose to leave the country and get away from Caleb Foster. Caleb panicked, “Aria Lawson, you can’t leave me!” 0 “Caleb, I slipped and fell. There’s a lot of blood.” When I made this call, Caleb was attending a welcome party for his first love, Mia Morgan. “Can you come back? I’m scared.” Still young, facing pregnancy and impending motherhood, I was silently terrified. Caleb clicked his tongue impatiently, “Can’t come back. Mia’s welcome party isn’t over yet. Deal with it yourself.” He hung up abruptly before I could respond. Looking at the pool of blood beneath my dress, I forced a bitter smile through the searing pain in my belly. Of course, this was all my own doing, wasn’t it? Caleb, as the grandson of my late grandfather’s friend, had adopted me, an orphan of the Lawson family. From age fourteen when I was adopted until eighteen, Caleb spoiled me like a princess envied by all. But at eighteen, I confessed my love to Caleb. Caleb said, “You shouldn’t have such thoughts.” But in my youthful naivety, I only wanted to win over the man I liked. His kindness to me went beyond ordinary relationships. I couldn’t believe he felt nothing for me. So, taking advantage of Caleb’s drunkenness after a business dinner, I climbed into his bed. From that moment on, our relationship could never go back to what it was before. It was also at this time that Mia Morgan, Caleb’s first love from college, returned from abroad. From then on, Caleb, who was already avoiding me, came home less and less frequently. I remembered the day we confirmed our relationship, his expression indifferent, “Since it’s your choice, you’ll have to bear my coldness.” Young as I was then, I thought Caleb, being older, was just not good at expressing affection. But it wasn’t until I saw his ears turning red and his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously in Mia’s presence that I finally woke up. Thinking of how Caleb had stayed away from home for three days and nights when he learned of my pregnancy, preferring to sleep at the office, I felt a sense of resignation. Perhaps a miscarriage was what he secretly hoped for. I calmly called an ambulance. As the doctors tried their best to save the baby in my womb, I sighed under their shocked gazes, “Let it go.” Seeing a young girl come alone, the doctor asked about my family. I reflexively said, “He’s busy, he can’t come.” Realizing how ridiculous it sounded, I changed my answer: “I’m sorry, I’m widowed.” The abortion was successful. I didn’t feel much pain, just an emptiness in my heart, as if something had been carved out. On the taxi ride back home alone, I saw a familiar car heading towards the hospital. I thought Caleb was rushing to see me and instinctively wanted to message him. But then I saw a Instagram post from Caleb’s best friend: “They say Boss Foster dotes on that adopted girl, but I think she’s just a shadow of Mia.” The picture showed Caleb holding hands with Mia, who was lying in a hospital bed. That was Caleb’s childhood friend group, three guys and one girl, the inseparable four. In this tight-knit group, Caleb and Mia had been in a serious relationship since high school, aiming for marriage. If Mia hadn’t insisted on going abroad, unwilling to marry so young, I would never have had a chance with Caleb. I felt foolish for my earlier thoughts. Back home, it wasn’t until midnight that Caleb returned, reeking of alcohol. Seeing me lying in bed, he lifted my clothes. Thinking of the scent of another woman on him, I turned away. Caleb sneered drunkenly, “Aria Lawson, what are you playing at? You weren’t ashamed to climb into my bed before, and now you’re playing hard to get?” 0

Caleb’s words stung my heart. The old Caleb would never have spoken to me so harshly. “Caleb, I’m not feeling well.” “Oh right, you’re still pregnant.” With that, he fell into a deep sleep on the bed, completely forgetting that I had fallen earlier that day. In the past, if I had so much as a scratch, Caleb would have scoured the city for the best doctors to heal my scar. But now, faced with such a serious matter as a pregnant woman falling and bleeding, he was utterly indifferent, even coming home drunk in the middle of the night. The contrast between care and neglect became glaringly obvious in an instant. The next day, Caleb was gone early. Instead, there was an update on Mia’s Twitter. “A breakfast full of love, thanks to Caleb for cooking so early in the morning.” The picture showed a hearty breakfast with a heart drawn on it. I had eaten such breakfasts too. Back when I wasn’t yet Caleb’s girlfriend. Meanwhile, a note was left on the bedside table. “Aria Lawson, trying so hard to share a bed with me? How amusing.” My heart instantly twisted with unbearable pain. Caleb didn’t trust me. He thought last night’s shared bed was my elaborate scheme. But we were supposed to be lovers. Thinking of this, my heart felt like it was being stabbed. I hastily packed my things and went to class. My appearance delighted my professor. “Aria! You’re finally here! Are you sure you don’t want to reconsider the study abroad opportunity in Italy? You’re our department’s most outstanding student!” Since becoming pregnant, I had planned to take a break from school to care for the baby, nearly missing this great opportunity to study abroad. “Professor, no need to reconsider. I want to go.” “Eh? Weren’t you going to take care of your pregnancy? If your body can’t handle it, don’t force yourself. I just thought it was a shame.” “No, Professor. I had a miscarriage.” Hearing this, the professor didn’t ask further, just patted my shoulder. “If that’s the case, it must be God’s will. Cherish this opportunity to study abroad.” Just as I left the school, my phone rang. Caleb’s car was waiting at the school gate. “Get in. My mom wants us to have dinner together.” Hearing this, I habitually opened the passenger door, only to see a large bouquet of vibrant red roses on the seat. Caleb hesitated for a moment, then said, “You sit in the back.” I had thought the flowers were for Caleb’s mother, but when we arrived at the family home and saw Mia intimately linking arms with Caleb’s mother as they walked out, my heart trembled. Caleb got out of the car carrying the red roses. Seeing this, Mia’s eyes lit up with a smile. “Caleb, I just mentioned it casually. Did you really run across half the city to buy these for me?” “If you like them, of course I had to get them.” Mia hugged the roses, her smile radiant and beautiful. She excitedly kissed Caleb’s cheek, “Well, thank you then.” Caleb didn’t dodge, a hint of indulgence in his smile. Caleb’s mother, Mrs. Foster, also teased, “You rascal, gallivanting abroad for years without coming back to see me.” “Oh come on, I’m back now, aren’t I?” I watched the three of them, so harmonious, feeling increasingly awkward. Mia seemed to notice me only then, feigning surprise, “Oh my, you must be Caleb’s little girlfriend?” “Don’t mind me, Caleb and I grew up together, we’re just naturally close.” She was explaining her earlier public display of affection with Caleb, but Mia’s eyes were full of mirth. “Nonsense, nonsense. What little girlfriend? Aria is just the granddaughter of Caleb’s grandfather’s friend. Our family is taking care of her out of gratitude,” Mrs. Foster interjected. Mrs. Foster didn’t know about my relationship with Caleb. “Besides, Mia, you know Caleb. He’s refused to date anyone these past few years no matter how much I’ve pushed. I always said this stubborn boy was waiting for you.” I instinctively looked at Caleb, desperately hoping he would deny his mother’s speculation. After all, I was supposed to be his girlfriend now. “Caleb, were you really waiting for me?”

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In the third year since I passed away, my enemy got stood up at his own wedding. I was floating around, enjoying the spectacle. Then, out of the blue, he turned his head. His gaze seemed to pierce through the space where I was, and his voice cracked as he spoke: “Did it take all this for you to show up?” “Go ahead and laugh if it makes you feel better, but don’t you dare leave again.” “Olivia, I miss you more than words can say.” ChapterWhen I got Nathan Gray’s wedding invite, I was really upset. I grabbed the invitation and stopped. Holding the invitation, I was lost in thought, and before I knew it, my rival had taken me for a ride. I lost a bundle to them. A kid ghost peeked over my shoulder. “Nathan? He’s the one who sent a lot of flowers to you from the other side.” The invitation was written by Nathan. No one would burn an invitation to me on purpose. Considering Nathan’s habit of sending me flowers whenever he got the chance, I decided to forgive his audacity. The group lost interest in rolling the dice and gathered together with a mischievous air, gossiping animatedly: “He was so wealthy; I would have loved to go and check out his wedding.” I gave a wry smile: “Come on, he was quite the character. If you really got to know him, it would have broken all your romantic notions.” Chapter

I’ve known Nathan for over ten years and we’ve been at odds for most of that time. When I was young, Nathan was shy. I was bold. I grabbed a frog and shoved it into Nathan’s hand. I told him to kiss it and make it a prince. Nathan was scared and cried. My parents beat me. I was beaten up, but I didn’t care. I disliked Nathan for being timid. Nathan said I was treacherous, wanted to see the frog turn into a prince, but didn’t dare kiss it. When I started junior high, I began to pay attention to my image and learned to moderate my words and actions. I’m not reckless anymore. I even put on the little white dress that I never touched before. Nathan laughed so hard he crowed, saying I was imitating the school belle, cause she usually dressed like this. I was angry, so I put mustard in his cake. In high school, I liked the gym student in my class. I wrote a love letter and asked Nathan to give it to him. I didn’t expect that after he embellished the story, he directly handed the love letter to my mom. My mother ridiculed me. I’m still angry about that love letter. I wasn’t weak either. I cursed Nathan and couldn’t send any more love letters. The ghostbuster asked, “Will you go to the wedding?” “Yes, why not? The invitations have been sent.” Chapter

Nathan has burned me a handwritten note before. In the past three years, Nathan has sent lots of notes, as if they were text messages. “Olivia, I took ugly pictures of you, right? I won’t delete them.” “Olivia, you can’t win by hiding. Our fight is not over.” “Olivia, if you scare me, I’ll admit I’ve lost.” “Olivia, I was in a car accident and had a concussion. I remember now. I’ll never forget what you did to me. You know I’m holding a grudge. It’s too late!” I didn’t get any flowers from Nathan for half a year. He’d bring me a lot of flowers before, so that I could show off in hell forever as someone still remembered me and loved me. I locked the note in the safe, took the money and went to the biggest casino in hell. After turning into a spirit, I was very lucky. I won a lot of money at the casino. I used my winnings to help build hell. The King of Hell was happy. I was not chased by the casino boss. Nathan burned a lot of clothes and bags too. This time was different. Nathan burnt me a wedding dress. Layer upon layer of romantic tulle, intricate and delicate lace embroidery, and the perfectly placed off-the-shoulder design were my favorite elements and designer creations when I was alive. The child ghost looked surprised. “Hey, is this dress for Nathan’s wedding?” Who would wear a wedding dress to a wedding, unless they were there to steal the spotlight? I shook my head, angry. “The jerk, he must be mocking me, like I don’t even have the chance to wear a wedding dress.” The wedding dress and invitation came with the mail. There was also a note. It rambled on with a paragraph: “Olivia, I’m getting married, and I won’t be bringing you any more flowers. You must be angry. Just keep all the flowers and I’ll enjoy them with you after I die.” Chapter

You think I’m a florist? Nathan is getting married and will have a wife and kids to memorize him. He still thinks about my assets. Capitalists are all the same. I was angry. I can’t share half my property with Nathan. That would put me second on the rich list. I won’t agree to that. I’ll accept a 60-40 split: six for me, four for him. I went to the Hall of Hades and asked to go to Earth. Ghosts can’t just enter Earth. I made outstanding contributions to Hell. I still have that privilege. The King of Hell gave me the pass. He also asked if I wanted my bodyguards to come with me. ‘The earth isn’t safer than hell,’ he said. I shook my head and said no. “I’m just going to a wedding, I don’t need a bodyguard.” I’m not going to rob a wedding. Besides, as a spirit attending Nathan’s wedding with a few bodyguards, if something goes wrong, how would I handle the aftermath? As a nemesis, I would love to see Nathan’s jokes. Who asked him to always oppose me in the past? I don’t want that. I want Nathan’s wedding to be grand and successful. He should take everyone’s blessings and walk towards his life with peace and stability. Chapter I held the pass and, with the help of the King of Hell, appeared at Nathan’s house. The villa was empty. It was strange here. I thought there was a wedding today, but there’s no sign of celebration at home. It makes people feel cold. What a weirdo.

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In my third paralysed year, my husband’s female partner gave me a pair of high heels. They were a beautiful pair of high heels. I looked at my skinny legs and angrily threw the shoes at her. My husband got angry. “You think Rose was taunting you by giving you the shoes?” “She doesn’t see you as disabled at all! It’s respect!” ChapterI sat in my wheelchair and opened the door. The crowd in the living room fell silent. My husband Joel and his gymnastics team members held their glasses and turned their heads to look at me in unison. Joel was shocked, “How did you… come out?” I was disappointed. I helped make this celebration happen. The gymnastics team won an international award, and I was the key designer of the program. No one cared if I was there. The atmosphere was awkward. My husband’s partner, Rosalie Hans, smiled at me condescendingly. “Jeanne, we won’t disturb you.” “This is a gift from the gymnastics team.” She held a gift box in front of me. The high heels in the box were covered with diamonds and shone in the light. “We chose this together. Do you like it?” My heart suddenly ached. I held down my unconscious legs, and the bones under my palms reminded me that these legs had long lost the ability to stand. They knew my legs were ruined and I couldn’t stand, and they still chose such a gift. But before I could open my mouth, Joel said, “Why don’t you thank Rose? ” I took a deep breath, looked up and asked him, “You know this gift, right? You gave high heels to a paralysed person! How dare you!” “Your feet aren’t broken, can’t you wear these? We don’t treat you like a disabled person. It’s called respect.” “You know what’s in your heart!” I yelled. He got impatient and said, “Don’t blame Rose.” “She asked about your hobbies and found out you have lots of high heels. That’s why she chose this gift.” He got it wrong. Before I was paralysed, I liked buying shoes. But since I’ve been paralysed, I can only throw all my high heels into the cupboard. My heart is sore. Chapter

When I was paralysed, he hugged me and said, “I love you no matter what.” When I was scared, he said, “I’ll be your legs from now on.” He bathed and massaged me every day and sent me for acupuncture and massage. This went on for three years. One day, he said the name Rosalie Hans. We had less and less to talk about, and he came back later and later every day. He became detached and cold. He even forgot the day of my treatment. We had a qurrel one day. Rosalie came to calm us down. “Alright, Joel, I’m scared when you’re like this.” She stroked Joel’s chest, then squatted in front of my wheelchair. “Jeanne, don’t think about sad things. Let me help you try on your shoes.” She grabbed my legs without waiting for my consent. Then she lifted the hem of the dress. A withered, bony leg appeared. Joel had not accompanied me for rehab for more than two years because recovery was hopeless. He closed his eyes when he saw my legs. Joel turned away, disgusted. “You can see pressure sores all over your legs. Hurry up and put down your clothes.” “Shame on you!” She laughed, seeing me staring at her. “Don’t talk about Jeanne like that. She was a very good dancer.” With envy in her mouth, she forcefully twisted my leg outward at a strange angle. “Try on the shoes. Joel and I chose them together.” The high heel sits empty on my foot, mocking my ungainly leg bones. The taunts came and went. I clenched my fists and bit my lip. I snatched the high heels and slammed them into her face. “Get out!” “Don’t touch me!” She let out a scream and turned to rush into Joel’s arms, crying with tears streaming down her face. Joel grabbed her and kicked my wheelchair. I was pushed back towards the table with drinks. The glass broke on my head. I also fell out of the wheelchair. I reflexively reached out to Joel, hoping he could give me a hand. But he looked disgusted. “Rose gave you a shoe fitting, don’t be ungrateful!” I was angry and wanted to hit something. “Joel, you guys are too much! Bullying me for being disabled?” “You’re unbelievable. Who bullied you? Our gift is respect!” “You’re wicked.” I was shocked and speechless. That’s what he thought of me. He wouldn’t let me go to the banquet today. To stop me going to the living room. Joel even changed my cold medicine to sleeping pills. He thought I didn’t know. But for three years, over a thousand sleepless nights, I relied on this tiny pill to fall asleep. After taking too much medicine, one develops patience. I can’t sleep deeply with just one pill now. My eyes grew moist. When we first fell in love, he was able to wait for hours outside the theatre to introduce me to his best friend. I knew that hearts change, but it still hurt when it came to this day. Chapter

Three years ago, we saw a mudslide on the road. A boulder hit Joel in the back, and blood spilled out. I was only a little hurt sitting in the back. I cried and asked the system again. “Can he stand up now?” “No, his nerves are damaged.” What can we do? He’s young and his gymnastics career has just started. How can he die in this accident? I can’t bear the thought of him suffering. I asked the system, “Can I still use the points earned from previous?” “What do you want?” “I want to trade my legs to him.” “Host, are you crazy? If you give it to him, you’ll never dance again.” I nodded. “I’d rather suffer than see him suffer.” I’d rather see him healthy and happy. I cleared all my points and had the system switch my leg to him. From then on, I was paralysed in bed. Joel was lucky to be alive after being pressed under a boulder. He didn’t know I was the price he paid for everything. I was paralysed for a month. I was in pain and confused. I had no sleep and lost hair. Joel took a month off to take care of me. He supported me through my darkest time and our bond grew stronger. I got used to living in a wheelchair. Joel’s gymnastics career improved and we moved from a small house to a big villa. I taught myself program design in a wheelchair. I couldn’t dance, but I could design dance moves on the computer. Second year paralysed. I designed unique moves for their team. They did really well at the National Gymnastics Competition and are going to represent the USA at the World Championships next month. I called the system “The legs we switched back then, can we change them back?” “Yes, but there aren’t enough points left.” “How do I get the points?” “You’ll get points when you complete a random mission.” Chapter

I went to the stage at Pleasant Plaza in my wheelchair. There”s an open-air interview today. The couple are Joel and Rose, the golden pair of gymnasts. The host said the woman should touch Joel’s chest for the fans. Rose covered her face and then extended her hand. Joel looked at her with love, not backing away. He said he and Rose were only sponsoring the gymnastics team and nothing more. I kept seeing Rose’s name. “Rose did another difficult manoeuvre today!” “Rose and I work well together!” “Rose …” Some fans noticed me. “This is Joel’s wife?” “He’s got a wife.” “She’s pathetic. I heard she used to be a dancer.” “She’s still a cripple, she’s not good enough for him.” I ignored the comments. The director called the camera crew off and told the two men to continue filming after they’d solved their problems. Joel ran up, angry, and asked, “Why are you here?” I tilted my head and said, “I came to watch your interview.” “Go home! ” Joel’s disciple, Adam said loudly, “Hey, what are you doing here?” Rose came over and apologised, “Sorry, Jeanne. I was shooting and didn’t think. ” The crowd was unhappy that I didn”t accept her apology. “What’s with her face? Rose apologised and she still looks angry.” Some fans started a live broadcast, making things worse. Adam stared at me and laughed. “Why does it smell like urine? Is someone incontinent again?” “It really smells.” “It”s disgusting.” I laughed. Joel looked at me with contempt. “Joel, they’re insulting your wife.” He frowned, “Wife? We’re divorced.” He didn’t look at me. I sneered, “When did we get divorced?” There was more commotion. “You’re divorced and you’re still here, aren’t you?” “Get lost!” The crowd pushed me and I lost my balance. I fell forward and someone stepped on my leg. I thought I heard bones clicking and breaking. Adam scolded me, “You should have gone home.” Joel didn’t stop. He sneered, “I know what you want to see.” He gave Rose’s hand to me. I realised they were wearing the same couple watch. What’s not to understand? We had a watch like this. We were just starting out in our careers. We earned less and spent more. We saved money to get married. In summer, we went to the mall, sat in the air conditioning, ate ice cream. We shared it. He got a part-time job and bought two watches. This watch has been worn for several years. One day, his wrist was empty. He said he couldn’t find it. Joel is wearing a watch again. It wasn’t the original one. I said coldly, “Is that your answer?” Joel looked away. “I’ve done my best for you.” “See you at the Civil Affairs Bureau.”

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I was a childhood sweetheart with Jack, and Melanie suddenly appeared. It is said that the feelings of childhood sweethearts can’t compete with newcomers. Not long after she transferred to school, someone saw the empty stairwell after school. Jack lowered his head to review his mistakes like a docile puppy. Later, Melanie and I had a little conflict. He said lightly, “I don’t want to see Linda at school. ” My parents immediately transferred me for fear of offending the Jackson family. Since then, I didn’t dare to show my face in front of him as if I had disappeared from his world. But later on his birthday, he knocked on my door，with an embarrassed and aggrieved face: “Did you forget that today is my birthday?” ChapterIt is said that the feelings of childhood sweethearts can’t compete with newcomers. In the old days, I would have laughed at this saying. But when I saw Jack watching Melanie dance, I could see the love in his eyes. I believed it then. I also believed the rumour that Jack had gone soft on Melanie in a stairwell. I couldn’t tell him how I felt. It’ll stay hidden in my heart forever. When the song ended, I applauded the young girl on stage. Jack got up and left. I also left. Walking out of the hall, he raised his hand with a small pendant hanging on his hand. “Linda, here…” I asked him, “What’s this?” Jack was seven when he followed his sister-in-law to watch a soap opera. He remembered something called a love token. “Give it to Linda. From now on, Linda can only like me.” “ I will always protect Linda from now on too.” …… Melanie is new here this semester. She is good-looking and a dancer. She caused a stir when she arrived. The girls in the class said that Melanie was like one of those school stories where the heroine transfers, is a good girl, and is then taken in by the school bully. At that time, many people were pursuing Melanie.Jack said he was not interested in her. But now I know, I should stop and stay away from Jack. I used to go home with him, but I forgot when he started letting me go first for various reasons. In fact, he could have talked to me, I wouldn’t have stalked him. We’ve never been together. Chapter

We handed in our homework on Monday morning.I “I didn’t finish.”,Jack said. I had a good relationship with Jack, so the monitor come to me directly every time. He looks for Melanie as soon as class is over. “It’s none of my business now.” They nodded. The rumour that Jack had a girlfriend seemed true. They were even more sure. After class, I wrote my test papers. I wanted Jack to take the exam with me to North City. I’m going to work hard to get into North City University. Jack didn’t come back for the whole evening. The teacher asked where he’d gone. Everyone looked at me, but I didn’t look up. In the second lesson, Jack came back. He sat in his seat and didn’t say anything until someone told him the homeroom teacher wanted to see him in the office. He came back to his senses and paused as he passed me. I didn’t look up because I was doing math. My classmates came over and asked what was wrong with Jack and me. “Nothing.” “Really?” she said. My classmate was shocked. I told her, “I won’t care about him anymore.” “Ah.“ She was surprised and said, “Jack’s girlfriend is Melanie.“ I looked away and didn’t say anything. After the second night study session, Jack walked back to the classroom. I got a note: “You go first after school.” I put it away and wrote my test paper. The class after school was always crowded and noisy. I sat in my seat and gathered my things. The class suddenly got quiet. My desk mate covered her mouth in shock, so I followed her gaze. Melanie stood at the doorway, tilted her head and hooked her hand towards Jack before walking away. I looked at Jack, who smiled and followed her out. The class was noisy. “Oh my god!” “I thought Jack and Linda were a couple.”Linda “They grew up together.” “Childhood sweethearts can’t compete with newcomers.” … My classmates tried to comfort me, but I picked up my school bag, my heart hurt so much, but I had to smile, I couldn’t shed tears. I can’t show I’m sad or I’ll be laughed at. “I’m fine. Jack and I are just friends. I’ll leave now, see you tomorrow.” I left the noisy campus and gripped my school bag tightly. But I still cried, and my heart hurt. How did he suddenly fall for someone else? My vision blurred, but I heard the young man’s clear voice. Linda “I will protect Linda forever!” Chapter

“Linda , why didn’t you wait for me? ” Jack was late this morning. After class, he came over and put a bottle of milk on my desk. I stopped writing vocabulary and looked at the milk bottle. “I’ve already had breakfast. ; I’ll come to school early.” Jack sat next to me. He looked confused. “I haven’t messed with you lately. We’ve always walked together.” “Not anymore.” I put my pen down, took a deep breath, smiled, and said, “You have a girlfriend now, so let’s stay away from each other.” He looked shocked. “I do mind.” I told him, “I don’t want to be the target when your relationship goes wrong.” Jack is bad-tempered and impatient. After talking to me so much, I guess he’s had enough. His face went cold and he got up violently. The chair hit the floor with a loud thud, followed by a sentence. “Whatever.” I hung my head and closed my eyes. Last night I sat on the balcony blowing in the wind. Should I hide my feelings for him? Was this the end of our childhood love? No girl wants her boyfriend has female friends. After that day, Jack ignored me, even when we met in the corridor. The girl who used to be by his side changed to Melanie, and he introduced Melanie to everyone. Melanie was his first love. I listened to their love story like everyone else There’s a sportsman who likes Melanie. A few days ago, he blocked her in the alley. Jack beat him up. I’m top of my grade again. My teacher said to leave Jack alone or it would affect my studies. Jack’s family is rich. School is not important to him. After school, I looked out the window at the sunset. “Linda , where do you want to go to university?” After a hot, dry evening, Jack sat next to me. He tickled my hair and spoke carelessly. I said, “North City University.” “It’s far away.” I didn’t tell him I wanted to go to North City University because it was a top school, but because I wanted to escape. My dad cheated on my mother when he got rich. My mother said he didn’t love her because I’m a girl. She would cry at night, asking why I wasn’t a boy. She later gave birth to a son. My father returned to family briefly, they only loved my brother. I wanted to get away from home. Jack said he’d protect me forever, so I’d go anywhere with him. Chapter

A rumor that Melanie interfered in other people’s feelings gradually spread in the school. Jack strangled me and couldn’t wait to kill me. “Linda, what do you want to do?” My friend hurriedly pushed Jack away: “Are you crazy? Let her go quickly. She can’t breathe.” Jack let go and I could breathe again. “Linda, you’re gross.’” “Linda, are you okay?” I sat on the ground and coughed, crying. Victoriahugged me and patted my back. I wiped my tears and tried not to cry out. Jack looked like he wanted to strangle me. The teenager was gone. A classmate gave me a phone to look at. It turned out that someone wrote an anonymous letter accusing Melanie who destroyed my relationship with Jack. Many people believe it. They are insulting Melanie. The pinch marks on my neck have turned red. I thought to myself that when I get back from school at night, I will immediately write a letter of clarification. When I got home, my parents sat on the sofa with a gloomy face. A glass was thrown at my feet and shattered. “Why did you annoy Jackat school?” Dad slapped the table, eyes wide. “Our company has always relied on Jack. Are you trying to ruin us?” I stood there, listening to my mum and dad argue. The villa was cold. I was shivering. I don’t know how the fight ended or how I was taken to apologise to Jack. I wanted to tell him I didn’t make the post, but I’d clarify. When the door opened, he looked at me coldly. I couldn’t speak. I bowed and apologised. He looked at me and said, “I don’t want to see you at school again, Linda .” Mum and Dad promised they wouldn’t let me see him again. I looked up at him, but I couldn’t see his face in the light. My self-esteem was crushed. I realised we were never in the same world. The moon doesn’t descend on itself because of people’s delusions. The moon falling down the well is only a reflection, an illusion. His kindness to me was nothing more than a teenager’s whim. I shouldn’t have fantasised about anything. It was wrong from the beginning. That night I packed my things and my parents transferred me to another school. ChapterI moved schools two weeks ago. I rented a house near the school. I was forbidden to go home. We didn’t see each other for a while. “Linda , come play basketball today.“ Ian is my classmate who has come over to see me a lot recently. They said this was Ian’s first time chasing a girl. Teenagers always fantasise about school love stories. I shook my head. “I have homework.” He looked at the exercise book on the table and raised his eyebrows. “Linda , I’ve been chasing you for two weeks.” “So?” He laughed, “Why did you reject me?”

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