Author: Momo Chan

I bought three window AC units for my family with my very first paycheck. But when I pushed the front door open after a grueling shift, my bedroom still felt like an absolute oven. Instead of the cool breeze I had paid for, there was nothing but a massive, heavy watermelon sitting on my mattress. My mom patted the thick green rind, looking incredibly pleased with herself. “I moved the AC units into Zack’s and Serena’s rooms. There was an extra one, so we put it in Serena’s art studio. You can just sleep with this cold watermelon tonight, Chloe. It’ll cool you down just fine.” My mouth opened, but the tight, suffocating pain in my chest choked back any words. She had completely forgotten. Only last month, I had been rushed to the ER with severe heatstroke. When I was discharged, the doctor explicitly warned that I couldn’t be exposed to extreme heat again. I turned my head toward the art studio at the end of the hallway. The crisp, cool air was practically leaking through the crack of the door. My dad was adjusting the easel light for my sister, Serena. My brother, Zack, was holding a plate of freshly sliced cold watermelon, feeding it to her piece by piece. And Luke, my boyfriend of three years, was holding the remote, carefully adjusting the AC vent for her. “Let’s angle the airflow upward, Serena. We don’t want you catching a cold before your big exhibit.” I wiped the dripping sweat from my forehead, looked at the ridiculous watermelon on my bed, and suddenly, the urge to fight just evaporated. I pulled out my phone and replied to the text from my manager: “You mentioned that transferring to the San Francisco branch would fast-track my promotion to a permanent role. I accept.” Having survived twenty-two suffocating summers in this house, I was finally ready to give myself a spring that would never end.

I locked my phone, slipped it into my pocket, and walked toward the kitchen to grab a glass of cold water. Just then, the art studio door clicked open. Luke walked out, holding Serena’s empty glass. Seeing me standing in the hallway, he paused. “Chloe, you’re home.” “Yeah,” I mumbled, brushing past him to reach for the pitcher. Luke followed me into the kitchen, setting the glass down on the marble countertop. “Your mom told you about the AC units, right?” “Serena is prepping for that major digital art exhibition. Her studio can’t get too warm, or her tablet overheats and her hand gets too sweaty to draw properly. It affects her flow.” “So you gave her the AC I bought.” I raised my glass and took a tiny sip. “It’s just for a few days,” Luke tried to explain. He reached out to touch my sweaty forehead, but I tilted my head, dodging his hand. His hand froze in mid-air before he awkwardly shoved it into his pocket. “Your room does get a lot of sun, but if we put the outdoor unit outside your window, it would face Serena’s bedroom. The noise would keep her up. She’s a light sleeper, Chloe. You know that.” Of course I knew. The entire family knew Serena was a light sleeper, had a sensitive stomach, and couldn’t handle being too hot or too cold. That was why she got the master bedroom, while I was tucked away in the suffocating corner room. “Yeah, I know,” I said, putting my glass down. Luke let out a sigh of relief, a small smile finally appearing on his face. “I knew you’d understand. You’re always the mature one.” He reached out to ruffle my hair. “Tomorrow’s the weekend. I’ll take you to Target to get a cooling gel mattress pad, and we’ll buy a nice, quiet tower fan to make up for it.” “No need.” I took a step back, escaping his touch. Luke’s hand froze again. “Chloe, don’t be petty.” His tone hardened slightly. “This exhibition is a massive deal for Serena’s career. As her sister, is it really that hard to show some support?” “I am supporting her.” “I said no to the fan because I really don’t need it.” Luke stared at me for a few seconds, trying to find any sign of silent resentment on my face. But my expression was completely blank. “I’m covered in sweat. I’m going to take a shower.” I turned and walked out. Behind me, the heavy thud of his glass slamming onto the counter echoed through the kitchen. I walked back into my oven of a bedroom. The giant watermelon still sat on my bed, its skin glistening with condensation. I pulled open the bottom drawer of my desk. Inside sat a sky-blue handheld fan. Carved into the plastic handle were five letters: Chloe. During our sophomore year of college, the dorm AC broke during a heatwave. Luke had run through five different blocks in the blazing heat just to find this for me. I traced the carved letters with my thumb. My fingertips turned white. I held the fan, about to put it back in the drawer, when my door was suddenly kicked open. Zack barged in, holding a plate of watermelon. The heavy wooden door slammed right into my elbow. Crack. The sky-blue fan slipped from my fingers, hitting the hardwood floor. The plastic casing shattered into pieces, and the tiny fan blade popped out, rolling uselessly under the bed. Zack glanced down at the mess. Without a shred of remorse, he stepped right on the broken plastic, crushing it further. He dumped the plate onto my desk. “Chloe, Serena said you had a long day at work, so she wanted me to bring you some watermelon.” There were only three soggy, pale green rinds left on the plate, with barely any red flesh on them. “Thanks.” I didn’t look at the plate, keeping my eyes fixed on my laptop screen. Zack glanced at the shattered fan, then at the giant watermelon on my bed, and cleared his throat. “Look, about the AC… don’t take it personally.” He scratched his head. “I’ll get my bonus next month. I’ll buy you another one.” “Sure.” I closed the tab on my screen. Zack blinked, caught off guard. He probably expected me to decline, just like I always did, sacrificing my own comfort just to get a hollow compliment about how “selfless” I was. But this time, I just accepted it. “You’re… not mad?” he asked, sounding unsure. “No.” I stood up. “I’m just tired. I want to sleep.” Zack smiled, clearly relieved. “I knew it. You’ve always been the reasonable one.” He patted my shoulder. “Get some rest. Tomorrow’s the weekend, I’ll take you out for some good food.” “Okay.” I nodded quietly. He turned and left, shutting the door behind him. The suffocating heat immediately rushed back to wrap around me. I picked up the leftover watermelon rinds from my desk and dumped them straight into the trash can. The red juice dripped onto the broken fan pieces. It looked almost like blood. I didn’t bother cleaning it. I just pulled out my suitcase and started packing my clothes. I didn’t need to wait for next month. Because by next Wednesday, I wouldn’t be in this house anymore.

The next morning was Saturday. Early in the morning, the hallway was buzzing with noise. My mom was frantically looking for Serena’s designer dress, and my dad was busy polishing his shoes. “Chloe, hurry up and get dressed! Luke booked a private room at that fancy French place downtown. We’re celebrating the smooth prep for Serena’s gallery show!” My mom knocked sharply on my door. I pulled it open, only to see her holding a delicate silk shawl that belonged to me. It was a special gift from my college mentor, who had brought it back from Paris. I had kept it wrapped in tissue paper, never once wearing it. “Serena said the restaurant’s AC might be chilly, so she’s borrowing this shawl.” Without even waiting for my reply, my mom draped the silk over Serena’s shoulders. “Fine,” I said, turning toward the bathroom. By the time I finished getting ready, Luke’s car was already waiting downstairs. The family walked down, laughing and chatting. I trailed behind, watching Zack eagerly open the passenger door for Serena. Just as I reached for the rear door, Luke rolled down his window. “Chloe, can you sit in the back?” he said, his hands resting casually on the steering wheel. His tone made it sound like the most natural request in the world. My hand froze on the handle. The front passenger seat already had Serena’s custom orthopedic pillow resting on it. “Serena’s feeling a bit dizzy today. If she sits in the back, her motion sickness might flare up,” Luke explained. “Sure.” I pulled my hand back, opened the back door, and slid in next to Zack. The car’s AC was blasting. Serena wrapped my silk shawl tighter around herself, turning to smile sweetly at Luke. I leaned back against the seat, watching his tender profile in the rearview mirror. I remembered when I used to get motion sickness. Luke would always just tell me to suck it up because we were almost there. It turned out he wasn’t incapable of taking care of someone. He just didn’t want to take care of me. At the restaurant, the hostess led us to a private booth. Luke pulled out the chair right next to his. Serena slid into it naturally. “Chloe’s boyfriend is so incredibly attentive! We can definitely rest easy knowing she’s in good hands,” Serena teased with a playful giggle. I didn’t say a word, walking straight to the empty chair in the far corner. When the menus were handed out, everyone took turns ordering. My mom ordered a table full of expensive seafood—all of Serena’s favorites. “Chloe, what do you want?” my dad asked casually. “I’ll have the lamb chops,” I said, looking at the menu. “Oh, absolutely not. Serena is highly allergic to lamb,” my mom immediately cut in. “Okay,” I said, closing the menu and handing it back to the waiter. Under the table, Luke gently nudged my knee with his. I pulled my legs back, avoiding his touch entirely. He turned his head to look at me, lowering his voice. “I’ll take you out for your favorite tacos tonight. Just the two of us, okay?” “No, thank you.” I kept my eyes on my water glass. “What is your problem now?” His voice carried a sharp edge of irritation. “Everyone is happy today. Stop ruining the vibe with that long face.” Looking at his furrowed brows, memories from not too long ago flooded my mind. Before I brought Luke home to meet my family, I had been terrified. I was terrified he would be like everyone else, unconditionally choosing my sister, who had spent her entire life stealing the spotlight. I had cried as I told him my fears. He had laughed softly, calling me a silly girl, and promised he would always, without exception, stand by my side. He gave me the courage to bring him into my life. And then, he took that balloon of courage and popped it with his own hands. The food arrived quickly. Serena suddenly looked across the table at me. “Chloe, about that illustration project for Luke’s company… I still have a few final drafts to finish up.” “Are you free this weekend? Could you help me finish the line art?” Instantly, all eyes at the table locked onto me. Whenever she took on freelance gigs she couldn’t handle, she would dump the grueling prep work onto me. The credit went to her, the paycheck went to her. “I’m busy.” I kept eating, not even looking up. The table went dead silent. “Chloe!” My mom’s face darkened. “You’re just lounging around the house anyway. What’s wrong with helping your sister out?” “It’s my weekend,” I said, swallowing the bitterness in my throat. “And I have my own work. I need to put in overtime.” “Your stupid little internship?” Zack sneered. “Serena’s project is a major campaign for Luke’s company. If she messes this up, can you even afford to pay for the damages?” I put down my fork and looked at Luke. He was the project manager for this campaign. Luke avoided my gaze, taking a slow sip of his water. “Chloe, the deadline is really tight.” “You draw fast. Help Serena out a bit. Consider it a personal favor to me.” Looking at him, a sudden wave of dark humor washed over me. This man was supposed to be my boyfriend. Yet here he was, asking me to help another woman as a “favor.” “I said, I’m busy.” I grabbed a napkin and wiped my mouth. Serena’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. “It’s fine, Luke. If Chloe doesn’t want to help, I’ll just pull an all-nighter. I can finish it.” “With your health? You can’t pull an all-nighter!” Zack snapped, turning to glare at me. “Chloe, what the hell is wrong with you? Is this still about the stupid AC yesterday?” “Fine. Put the AC back in my room, and I’ll help her draw.” For the first time in my life, I spoke my mind. The air in the room turned ice-cold. “You think you’re so tough now that you have a job? How dare you hold a grudge against your own family!” My dad slammed his palm onto the table. “I’m full. Enjoy your dinner.” I stood up, walked out of the private room, and wiped away the tear that slipped down my cheek. As soon as I stepped out of the restaurant, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was an email from the HR department in San Francisco. They were reminding me to fill out the onboarding paperwork and send it back by next Tuesday. I pulled up the keyboard and typed: “Received. I will submit everything shortly.” I looked back at the closed doors of the restaurant. No one had run out after me. Instead, a text from Luke popped up: [You were incredibly immature today. Your parents are furious, and Serena was crying. I’ll set up another dinner later so you can properly apologize to them.] I didn’t reply. I deleted our entire chat history. Three years of messages, gone in a second. There wouldn’t be a next time. And the apology he wanted? He would be waiting for eternity.

On Monday morning, I emailed my signed transfer agreement back to HR in San Francisco. By Monday afternoon, I was packing my desk when my phone started vibrating. It was Luke. “Chloe, where are you right now?” His voice was hoarse, thick with a panic he couldn’t hide. “At the office.” I wrapped a picture frame in bubble wrap and put it in a box. It used to hold a photo of the two of us. Just a minute ago, I had shredded the photo along with some old files. “Get home as soon as you can. Something terrible happened.” “The final illustrations Serena submitted… the client’s legal team flagged them for blatant plagiarism.” I didn’t stop packing, tearing off a strip of tape to seal the box. “Oh,” I said dryly. “The client’s legal team sent a formal cease-and-desist. They’re demanding massive damages and a public apology.” Luke’s voice grew heavier. “I have to go. Just get home right after work.” The line went dead. I looked at the black screen, slipped my phone into my pocket, and carried my box toward the elevator. When I opened the front door to the house, the living room lights were off. Only the dim orange glow of the streetlights filtered in through the balcony. The atmosphere was suffocatingly tense. Serena sat in the middle of the couch, burying her face in her hands, weeping softly. My mom was rubbing her back, while my dad sat with a grim scowl. Zack was pacing back and forth, looking highly agitated. Luke sat in an armchair, a half-burned cigarette dangling between his fingers. His face was pale. The moment she saw me, my mom stood up and rushed over. “Finally! You’re back!” She grabbed my wrist, her grip so tight it pinched my skin. “Your sister is in deep trouble. You have to take the fall for her!” I yanked my hand back, setting my bag down on the entryway table. “Take the fall? How?” I looked at her. “Luke said that if someone steps forward and claims those specific illustrations were just personal practice drafts leaked by a freelancer, the company can shift the blame away from Serena.” “Your sister is a famous artist. Her reputation cannot be ruined by a plagiarism scandal!” “And?” Looking at their desperate faces, my heart felt colder than ice. Zack stopped pacing and glared at me. “So you’re going to sign the confession!” His tone was entirely matter-of-fact. “You’re just an intern anyway. The worst they can do is fire you. Once the drama blows over, you can just find another job.” I turned my eyes to Luke. He kept his head down, watching his cigarette ash drop onto the rug. “Is this your idea too?” I asked him. Luke looked up, his eyes darting away guiltily before hardening. “Chloe, the client just wants a scapegoat. If you sign the liability waiver, I’ll compensate you under the table. I’ll even pull some strings to get you a new job.” I stared at the man I had loved for three years. To save his precious Serena’s career, he was completely willing to throw my entire professional future under the bus. “If I sign that, my reputation in this industry will be permanently ruined,” I stated, my voice dead calm. “Who cares about your stupid reputation!” Zack snapped, losing his patience. “Your pathetic little salary is barely worth keeping anyway. Do you have any sense of family loyalty?” “Chloe, your sister has always been fragile. She can’t handle this kind of blow,” my dad added, his voice heavy. “We raised you, we paid for your life. It’s time for you to pull your weight for this family.” I stood there, watching this absurd theater. I couldn’t even feel the pain anymore. It had gone completely numb. When people start talking to you about “family loyalty,” it usually means they’ve already decided you’re the one who needs to be sacrificed. I let out a soft, mocking laugh, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “And what if I refuse?”

I didn’t stay to watch their ugly reactions. I walked straight into my room and locked the door. Outside, they pounded on the wood, shouting curses and accusations. I put on my noise-canceling headphones, blocking them out completely. I spent the night in that sweltering, airless room. The physical toll of my previous heatstroke chose that exact night to flare up again. My head spun so badly I could barely stand. My throat felt bone-dry and cracked. I finally unlocked my door, intending to go to the kitchen for a glass of water. The moment I stepped into the living room, I saw Serena, her eyes swollen like plums, clinging to my mom. “Mom, forget it. Stop forcing Chloe.” “I’ll take the blame. It doesn’t matter if my career is over or if I go to jail… just pretend you never had me as a daughter.” “Don’t say that!” My mom squeezed her tight, her eyes turning into daggers as she glared at me. “As long as I have a breath in my body, I will not let anyone ruin you!” My dad slammed his fist on the table. “Chloe Miller, if you don’t sign that paper today, pack your bags and get the hell out of this house!” Zack rushed over, slapping the water glass right out of my hand. Smash. The glass shattered, sending sharp shards flying across the floor. “If you don’t help Serena, you aren’t leaving this house to go to work today!” “Why should Serena’s career be ruined while you get to act like nothing happened?” “If she can’t draw, you don’t get to work either. That’s only fair!” I gripped the doorframe, looking at my brother. It was laughably absurd. For twenty-two years, no one in this house had ever used the word “fair” when it came to me and Serena. I had cried and demanded fairness once. My mom had simply looked at me and said: She had only planned on having two kids—Zack and Serena. A perfect pair. But then I was an accident. My existence ruined her perfect family aesthetic. So I had no right to ask for fairness. Yet now, they were demanding “fairness” from me. I laughed out loud. But tears slipped down my cheeks anyway. My dry lips split, letting a metallic taste of blood seep into my mouth. Luke was gently pressing an ice pack against Serena’s swollen eyes. He didn’t even look at my pale, trembling face. “Chloe, think carefully.” “If you don’t sign, not only are you not leaving this house today, but I will make sure you are completely blacklisted from this industry.” “But if you sign, we can go back to how things were. I’ll even find a position for you in another company.” I lowered my eyes, hiding my trembling hands behind my back. I swallowed the blood in my mouth, forcing myself to look defeated and broken. “Fine. I’ll sign.” My voice came out hoarse and cracked. “But I need to go to the office first. I have to submit a formal leave of absence, and then I’ll meet you at Starry Media.” Hearing me finally break, the tension in the room instantly vanished. My mom let out a cold sniff. “Good to know you still have a shred of conscience.” Zack stepped back, letting me pass. “See? If you had just been this reasonable from the start, we wouldn’t have had all this drama.” I turned back to my room. I caught a glimpse of the rotting watermelon sitting in the hot corner of my room. I grabbed my backpack and walked out the door. An Uber was already waiting for me downstairs. On the way, Luke sent me a Snapchat: [Carter, the Legal Director of Starry Media, is here. When you get to the conference room, don’t say anything stupid. Just sign the paperwork, and I’ll take you to that nice French place tonight. I’ll even order a brand-new, silent AC unit for your room.] But now, the French dinners… The AC units… The family, the boyfriend—I didn’t need any of it anymore. When the Uber arrived at the high-rise, I didn’t go up. I pulled a thick manila envelope from my backpack. I handed twenty dollars to a courier in the lobby and asked him to deliver it directly to the top floor. The recipient: Carter, Legal Director of Starry Media. Then, I got back into the Uber. “Change of destination, please. To the airport.” As the car merged into traffic, I opened Luke’s chat. [The package you wanted has been delivered.] I tapped send, and without a second of hesitation, blocked his number. Then, I left the family Snapchat group. From this moment on, I was running toward a spring that belonged entirely to me.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “443790”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

Ten minutes before the wedding march was set to play, I was sitting in the bridal suite, touching up my lipstick. Ethan Sterling walked in with a glass of warm water and helped me adjust my veil. “Drink some water. Don’t be nervous. I’ll take you out in a bit.” I smiled, took the glass, and asked him if his tie was straight. The moment the glass was empty, the back of my tongue went numb. I looked up at him. He had already locked the door of the bridal suite from the inside. “I asked the doctor. The dosage is safe. Three hours of sleep is all you need.” The lipstick in my hand slipped, crashing onto the skirt of my wedding dress, leaving a stark red smudge. He knelt down and tried to wipe away the stain. “Sienna is pregnant. She’s carrying Julian’s baby. She can’t handle any stress right now.” “The child needs a legitimate status. For today, she’ll wear your dress and go through the ceremony. I’ll explain everything to the guests later.” I tried to stand, but my knees buckled, and I crashed against the vanity. He caught me, his voice still filled with that same gentle, coaxing tone. “Chloe, be sensible. Once her pregnancy stabilizes, I’ll give you an even bigger wedding.” Outside the door, the officiant began calling for the bride. My vision blurred, and I fell into a deep sleep.

When I woke up, the first words came out through my gritted teeth. “Don’t touch me.” Ethan’s sister, Zoe Sterling, was crouching in front of me, twirling my wedding ring between her fingers. “Chloe, you woke up fast.” She tossed the ring onto the floor. “And here I thought the doctor my brother hired was reliable.” I pushed myself against the wall, trying to sit up, but my wrists were too weak to support my weight. My throat was dry and numb, and my chest felt like it was stuffed with wet cotton. “Where is this?” “The hotel basement.” Zoe smirked. “Don’t be so tense. The wedding went beautifully.” I stared at her. “Who was the bride?” “Who else? Sienna, of course.” She held her phone up to my face. The screen was playing an Instagram livestream of the reception. Sienna was wearing my wedding dress, holding Ethan’s arm, standing right under the brightest spotlight. The officiant called out, “You may now kiss the bride.” Applause erupted from the crowd like a crashing wave. My fingers slowly curled into fists. “Zoe, give me the phone.” “Why?” She pulled the phone back. “So you can crash the wedding? So you can trigger Sienna’s panic attacks?” “That was my wedding.” “Not anymore.” She tilted her head, her tone as casual as if she were commenting on an ill-fitting dress. “Chloe, you’re a nice girl. You just don’t see the bigger picture.” I let out a cold laugh. “My wedding was stolen from me, and you’re talking to me about the bigger picture?” Zoe’s face darkened. “Don’t get sarcastic with me.” “Sienna is carrying Julian’s only child. Her emotions can’t handle any shock right now.” “You’re only missing out on walking down an aisle once. She’s missing her entire future.” I looked up at her. “Her baby needs a name, so a living person like me has to be drugged and locked away?” “Didn’t Ethan say he’d make it up to you?” Zoe frowned, looking at me as if I were being ungrateful. “Why are you so hard to please?” “Make it up to me?” My throat burned, but I couldn’t stop the laugh from escaping. “Locking me in a basement, letting someone else wear my dress, take my place, and receive my congratulations—you call that making it up to me?” “Don’t make it sound so ugly.” Zoe stood up, her heel stepping right onto the train of my dress. “You were never good enough for my brother anyway.” “The Sterling family only let you in because you were quiet, obedient, and didn’t cause trouble.” “Now that Sienna is pregnant, your constant whining just makes you look incredibly selfish.” I reached for my pockets. My phone was gone. Zoe saw my movement and smirked even wider. “Looking for your phone?” She pulled it out of her designer bag and waved it in front of me. “It’s off.” “My brother foresaw all your little tricks.” I stared at the phone in her hand. “I need to call Ethan.” “Call him for what?” “He’s busy giving toasts.” “With so many guests and media out there today, he doesn’t have time for your drama.” My chest tightened. The drug from that glass of water felt like a thick film coating my throat, making my breaths short and shallow. “Zoe, I’m having an allergic reaction.” She raised an eyebrow and scoffed. “Allergic to warm water?” “To sedatives.” I leaned against the wall, my voice cracking. “If it’s severe, it can kill me.” Zoe stared at me. She froze for two seconds, then burst into laughter. “Chloe, your acting is so outdated.” “Faking a life-or-death crisis the moment you wake up? No wonder you’re just a commoner trying to claw your way into high society. This drama is so cheap, like those trashy soap operas.” I forced out every single word. “Give. Me. The. Phone.” “No.” She stuffed the phone back into her bag, leaned down, and patted my cheek. “Just stay here for three hours.” “Once Sienna finishes the ceremony, Ethan will come get you.” “And honestly, if you actually die, consider it your final contribution to the Sterling family.” Footsteps echoed outside, and a bodyguard poked his head in. “Miss Sterling, they’re about to cut the cake upstairs.” Zoe immediately smoothed down her dress. “Keep an eye on her.” I grabbed the hem of her skirt. “Zoe… I am really dying…” She looked down at me and smiled. “Chloe, your biggest flaw is that you think too highly of yourself.” The door was locked shut again. I slumped against the cold wall. It felt like someone was sucking the last bit of oxygen right out of my lungs.

The bodyguard went out for a smoke, leaving my phone carelessly on the shelf near the door. I crawled over, pressed the screen to light it up, and dialed Ethan’s number. His voice came through the speaker. “Chloe, where are you?” I gasped heavily. “Basement…” “I’m having… an allergic reaction. Call a doctor.” There was a moment of silence on the other end. In the background, someone laughed and shouted, “Ethan! Sienna says the baby just kicked. Come feel it!” Ethan lowered his voice. “Chloe, stop throwing a tantrum.” I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m not.” “My tongue is numb… my throat is swelling… my chest is tight.” “The drug you gave me contained benzodiazepines, didn’t it?” His voice grew cold. “How do you know that?” “Because I can’t touch them.” “Ethan, I told you this before.” The clinking of glasses echoed from the phone. He was quiet for so long that I thought the call had dropped. “I don’t remember.” I leaned against the door frame, my body sliding down inch by inch. On the day of our pre-marital physical exam, I had written down my allergy history three separate times. Ethan had sat right beside me, holding my hand, promising that he would memorize every single one of my medical triggers. But that was the same day Sienna returned from abroad after her surgery. She had posted on Instagram, saying how much she feared the smell of hospital disinfectants. That very night, Ethan bought out half a flower shop to fill her hospital room. My medical report was carelessly stuffed under the car air freshener. I asked him, my voice trembling. “Do you remember now?” Ethan’s voice sounded impatient. “Chloe, today is an exception.” “Sienna almost fainted earlier. The doctor said she can’t handle any shocks.” “I asked Zoe to keep you in the basement because I was afraid you’d do something reckless.” I let out a choked laugh. “Afraid I’d be reckless, so you drugged me?” He lowered his voice. “The dosage was very light.” “The doctor said you would sleep for three hours at most.” “You’re awake now, which means you’re fine.” “I will die.” My voice was barely a whisper. “Ethan, I am really going to die.” He sighed. “Every time you’re unhappy, you exaggerate things to the extreme.” “Just bear with it a little longer. Wait for me.” “We still have the family toasts and reception. Once it’s over, I’ll come down.” I gripped the phone, begging. “I can’t wait… right now…” He cut me off, his tone still patronizingly gentle. “Chloe, Sienna saved my life.” “When I got into that car accident years ago, she was the one who dragged me out of the wreckage.” “Now she’s pregnant with my late brother’s child. I can’t let her be humiliated in front of everyone.” I froze. “The person who saved you… was her?” “Who else would it be?” “Please don’t start arguing with me about this now.” I clutched my chest, a bitter smile gracing my lips. Ethan’s voice softened a bit. “Chloe, you’re quiet again.” “I know you feel wronged.” “But don’t blow this out of proportion.” “I’ll explain everything to you after today.” “Just bear with it.” I leaned against the door, black spots starting to swim in my vision. “Ethan.” “Yeah?” “If I die, will you regret this?” He paused. “Don’t say such jinxed things.” Someone called out to him in the background. “Groom, the toasts are waiting!” Ethan immediately answered them. The line went dead. The bodyguard came back, snatched the phone away, and cursed. “Still trying to stir up trouble, huh?” I opened my mouth, but only a raspy, broken breath came out. The bodyguard glanced at me and sneered. “Miss Sterling said you’re a good actor.” “Don’t actually play dead on me.” I wanted to tell him I wasn’t acting.

When Zoe returned, she was holding a half-empty glass of champagne. The bodyguard stood at the door, whispering, “Miss Sterling, her face looks really off.” Zoe cast a casual glance at me. “If her face looked perfectly fine, how could she play the victim?” I slumped against the wall, my breathing turning into rapid, shallow gasps. “Epinephrine…” I raised a trembling hand, pointing toward my bag. “My EpiPen… inside pocket.” Zoe looked down and rummaged through my bag, indeed pulling out a blue injection pen. She held it in her hand, her expression turning smug. “Oh, look at that. You even brought props.” “Give it… to me…” “Just because you asked?” She raised the EpiPen high out of my reach. “Chloe, admit one thing first.” I stared at her. “Admit what?” “Admit that you’re just jealous of Sienna today.” Zoe crouched down, her voice low and venomous. “Admit that you’re faking this illness just to ruin her big day and steal her spotlight.” “I’m going to record a video.” “That way, when Ethan asks, I’ll have proof to show him.” A raspy, bitter laugh escaped my throat. “You Sterlings are truly experts at stabbing someone and expecting them to thank you for the blade.” “Still stubborn, I see.” She opened her phone camera and aimed it at my face. “Come on, say it.” “Say that Sienna is kind and generous, and you’re just a petty, jealous bitch.” I closed my eyes. “No.” Zoe pressed the EpiPen against the edge of the table, slowly pushing down. “If you don’t say it, I’ll break it.” The bodyguard gasped. “Miss Sterling, is that thing really life-saving medicine?” “She says it is, so it is?” Zoe sneered. “Does she know better than a doctor?” “My brother asked. The sedative dosage is perfectly safe.” “Besides, even if something does happen, it’s just her own weak constitution trying to blackmail the Sterling family.” I forced my eyes open, my vision already blurring. “Zoe.” “What?” “Does your brother know how incredibly stupid you are?” Her face twisted in anger. With a sharp crack, she slammed the EpiPen onto the floor. The blue plastic casing shattered, and the liquid medicine seeped out onto the concrete. In that exact moment, the final string of hope inside me snapped. Zoe looked at the spilled medicine and lifted her chin proudly. “Don’t look at me like that.” “My brother hates it when you make that face.” “As if the whole world owes you something.” I stared at the shattered EpiPen and whispered, “There are only three hundred of those custom-formulated pens in the world.” “Who are you trying to scare?” “It’s a custom-made prescription. The serial number is printed on the inside of the casing.” I looked up at her. “What you just destroyed wasn’t just a pen. It was evidence.” Zoe froze for a moment, then laughed contemptuously. “Evidence?” “You’re just an orphaned, penniless designer. You think you can sue the Sterling family?” “Has my brother spoiled you so much that you forgot your own place?” I didn’t bother to explain. Because explaining was useless. A massive cheer suddenly erupted from upstairs. The wedding was reaching its finale. Zoe checked her phone, her smile returning. “Sienna is about to toss the bouquet.” “Guess who she’s going to throw it to?” I said nothing. She answered her own question. “Me, obviously.” She stood up and walked toward the door. The bodyguard hesitated. “What about her…?” “Keep her locked in.” The door slammed shut. I dragged myself toward the shattered EpiPen, dipping my finger into the tiny puddle of remaining liquid, and pressed it against my outer thigh. The dosage was nowhere near enough. The precious little air left in my lungs was still slipping away. I reached into the hidden pocket of my wedding dress. Sewn inside was a thin, metallic signal transmitter. Before my grandmother passed away, she had slipped it into my hand. She had said, Chloe, you don’t have to return to the Lockwood family. But you must keep yourself alive. I had laughed back then, thinking she was being dramatic.

Zoe’s voice drifted in through the crack under the door. She was on the phone. “Ethan, she’s still putting on a show. She’s complaining that I broke her little rescue pen.” Ethan’s background was incredibly noisy—people clinking glasses, shouting “congratulations!” He asked, “How is she?” “She can talk, she can crawl, she’s full of energy.” Zoe laughed. “I think she just wants to steal Sienna’s spotlight.” Ethan was silent for two seconds. “Don’t rile her up.” “I’ll come down as soon as I take Sienna back to her room.” I used every ounce of my remaining strength to bang on the door. The sound was incredibly faint, like fingernails scratching against wood. “Ethan…” The hallway went quiet for a second. Zoe brought the phone closer to the door. “Chloe is calling for you.” Ethan’s voice softened. “Chloe, I’m listening.” I pressed my forehead against the cold door. “Tell them… to open the door.” “I can’t… breathe.” “I really can’t… hold on much longer.” Ethan sounded thoroughly exhausted and annoyed. “Chloe, today is our wedding day.” “Do you have to force my hand today?” “Force your hand?” “Do you have any idea how many people are upstairs right now?” His words came faster. “The press, our relatives, our business partners.” “If you crash the reception now, what happens to Sienna?” “She’s carrying my brother’s baby.” “My brother’s last wish was for me to take care of her.” “So I should just die in the basement?” My voice was so faint it was almost non-existent. The other end of the line went completely silent. A few seconds later, he said, “No one is asking you to die.” “I’m just asking you to wait.” “Why can’t you ever put yourself in my shoes, just this once?” Leaning against the door, I suddenly found it hilarious. When his stomach ulcer flared up, I drove across the city in the middle of the night right before a major design deadline to get his medicine. When his mother looked down on my background, I swallowed my pride at the dinner table, pretending not to understand her sharp barbs. After Sienna returned, he abandoned me at movie theaters, restaurants, and anniversary hotel rooms over and over again. I had always put myself in his shoes. But in the end, he wanted me to give up my very life. “Ethan.” “Yeah?” “I regret it.” He paused. “Regret what?” “Regret marrying you.” The other side of the phone felt like it had been abruptly muted. Zoe was the first to explode. “Chloe, are you insane? My brother marrying you is the best thing that ever happened to your pathetic life!” Ethan suppressed his anger. “Chloe, don’t say things in anger.” “I’m not angry.” I pulled the signal transmitter out of my wedding dress. “I also regret saving your life.” Ethan’s voice instantly turned freezing cold. “What did you say?” Zoe burst into laughter. “Oh, here we go. The ‘life-saver’ drama again.” “Are you going to claim Sienna stole your entire life next?” I ignored her. The transmitter had only one button. My fingers were shaking violently. It took me three tries to finally press it down. Ethan’s voice was still coming through the speaker. “Chloe, Sienna is the one who saved me.” “Everyone in the Sterling family knows that.” “Don’t insult her with these desperate lies.” I smiled faintly. “Fine.” “Then I hope you and your savior grow old and gray together…” Ethan’s breathing grew heavy. “You’re becoming completely unreasonable.” I could barely hear him anymore. My ears were filled with the rushing sound of blood pounding against my eardrums. Outside, Zoe murmured impatiently. “Just hang up, Ethan. Sienna is looking for you.” The call was cut off. The bodyguard kicked the door from the outside and tossed my phone back in through the gap. “Stop acting.” “When Mr. Sterling comes down, you can explain yourself to him.” I didn’t have the strength to reply. I picked up the phone and dialed a number. A number I had deleted but remembered for years. On the third ring, the call connected.

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My boyfriend, Wallace Vance, was the most ruthless designer in the fashion industry. He showed no mercy, not even to me, his exclusive runway model. When my weight went over by less than half a pound, he kicked me straight off the runway. “Alice, this is business, not a game,” he said coldly. “I won’t give you special treatment just because you’re my girlfriend.” I respected his work ethic. Or at least, I tried to. Until today. I had to leave the gym early because of a sudden dizzy spell from low blood sugar. When I walked into our apartment, I saw Juliet, my curvy best friend, trying on Wallace’s brand-new couture gown. Wallace was looking at her with a look of pure adoration—a look he had never given me. “I spent months designing this collection specifically for your body,” Wallace cooed, his voice dripping with sweetness. “You’re going to be the most unique star in the modeling world.” Juliet pouted, wrapping her arms around his neck. “But Wallace, I’m so much bigger than Alice. I’ll look like a joke next to her.” “Alice has the standard runway body, but you? You’re my real muse,” Wallace whispered, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “She doesn’t even compare to you.” A cold sweat broke out over my skin. My hands shook as I unlocked my phone and sent two texts to my dad. [Dad, I agree to the arranged marriage with Leo Sterling.] [Also, pull all James Group funding from Wallace’s fashion brand. Effective immediately.]

After sending the texts, my head was still spinning. I stumbled toward the kitchen, desperate for a piece of chocolate to stop the trembling in my hands. Just then, Wallace and Juliet walked out of the dressing room, laughing and whispering. The moment Wallace saw the chocolate in my hand, his smile vanished. “Alice, you’re supposed to be at the gym right now,” he snapped. “I’ll let the laziness slide this once. But chocolate? High-sugar junk food?” “Where is your self-control?” I stared at the tiny piece of chocolate in my palm, completely stunned. The man standing in front of me, screaming at me over a bite of chocolate, felt like a total stranger. I remembered when we first graduated. He had absolutely nothing back then. He did freelance sketching to pay the bills. He worked until his wrists were swollen just to make a few thousand dollars, and he spent every single penny of it on me. He used to buy me snacks and desserts, never caring about carbs or calories. He loved buying me pretty dresses and would always tell me how beautiful I looked. He never cared if I fit into a sample size. Now, with my heart racing from the hypoglycemia, I asked him quietly, “You can let Juliet model your couture, but I need your permission just to eat a piece of chocolate when my blood sugar crashes?” Wallace noticed my hands shaking. For a split second, guilt flashed across his face. He grabbed a glass of orange juice from the counter and handed it to me. “If you’re having a medical issue, of course you can eat. I didn’t mean it like that.” But Juliet’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. She bit her lip, looking incredibly hurt. “Alice, if you’re mad at me, I won’t wear the dresses. I’ll take them off right now.” “I know my body isn’t as perfect as yours. I’m not a professional like you.” Wallace panicked instantly. “No, Juliet! Don’t say that!” “Alice is too skinny. It’s unhealthy. You look perfect just the way you are.” “And besides, this collection was made for your curves. No one else can pull it off.” He turned back to me, his eyes full of annoyance. “Alice, if you really care about Juliet as a friend, stop comparing yourself to her. It’s pathetic.” “She has something you don’t. She’s not like those cookie-cutter runway models.” Without waiting for my reply, he grabbed Juliet’s wrist. “Come on, Juliet. Ignore her. Let me take you out to that seafood place you wanted to try.” The front door slammed shut. So, he knew being too skinny was unhealthy. So, all his strict rules were just a lie. All of Wallace’s professionalism and high standards disappeared the second Juliet was the one on the table. My eyes burned with tears. I tilted my head back, forcing them down. My phone buzzed. It was a message from my dad. [Alice, I’m so glad you’ve finally come to your senses! Leo is going to be thrilled. The engagement party is set for two days from now. Is that too soon for you?] I replied instantly: [No. Two days is perfect.]

While packing my bags, I found two sets of design sketches on Wallace’s desk. One was my wedding dress. There was only one draft. The lines were messy, the design completely basic and plain. The other set was Juliet’s bridesmaid dress. There were over a dozen detailed sketches. He had redesigned the embroidery on the hem nine times. The cut of the dress was specifically tailored to hide Juliet’s insecurities and highlight her best features. It was gorgeous. In fact, it looked far more like a luxury wedding gown than my own dress did. A few weeks ago, I had asked him, “Don’t you think my wedding dress is a bit too simple?” He had replied, “You look best in simple things.” I had been stupid enough to take it as a compliment. He just didn’t care enough to put any effort into me. My phone rang. It was the wedding planner. “Hi, Alice. I’m the coordinator for your wedding with Wallace. I just wanted to double-check one detail with you.” “Are we absolutely sure about replacing all the fresh lily of the valley with yarn crochet flowers? Artificial flowers might look a bit cheap on camera.” The tear I had been holding back finally rolled down my cheek. Juliet was highly allergic to flower pollen. He had planned this down to the very last detail. Without even consulting me, he had ruined the lily of the valley theme I had been dreaming of for years. I wiped my face. “It’s fine. Just do whatever Wallace requested.” After all, this wedding wasn’t really mine anyway. Whatever they did had nothing to do with me anymore. Shortly after I hung up, Wallace came home. He was holding a box from my favorite bakery. “Hey, Alice. Still feeling dizzy? I brought you your favorite lemon tart.” His tone was casual, as if nothing had happened. This was his usual way of sweeping things under the rug. When I didn’t answer, he pulled me to the dining table. “Even if you’re mad at me, you need to eat. It breaks my heart when you’re sick.” I stared at him, seeing a shadow of the boy he used to be. He used to care about me more than anyone. When I lost my appetite, he—a guy who hated the smell of grease—would look up recipes and spend hours in the kitchen trying to make something I’d eat. When my medical checkup came back with bad results, he would grill the doctor about every single metric until the doctor had to tell him to calm down. But everything changed the moment Juliet moved to our city. At first, Wallace criticized her. He said she had no business trying to be a model if she couldn’t manage her weight. But slowly, he started saying things like, “Curvy girls actually have a lot of charm.” They both loved bold, avant-garde styles. They shared the same creative vision. Later, he told me that Juliet was like his soulmate, his ultimate muse. The memories tasted bitter, making the sweet tart on the table look disgusting. I reached for the spoon. But before I could touch it, Wallace suddenly stood up, knocking the lemon tart right onto my lap. The sticky cream and pastry soiled my clothes, leaving me in a complete mess. Without even looking at me, he grabbed a shopping bag from the closet and rushed toward the door. “An emergency came up at the studio. I have to go.” “I’ll buy you another dessert next time.” I quietly cleaned the sticky cream off my clothes. Just then, my phone chimed with a Snapchat notification. It was Juliet’s public story. The caption read: [I just mentioned wanting a vintage silk dress, and someone brought it to me instantly~] The comments were already piling up. [Juliet’s curves look amazing in that slip dress! So gorgeous and cute!] [This photo has Wallace’s signature lighting. Wait, isn’t Wallace getting married soon? Is Juliet the bride?!] [Has to be! Wallace is so strict with models, but he always makes an exception for Juliet!] I tapped on the photo. I recognized the slip dress immediately. The shimmering silk, the delicate hand-pressed patterns. It was identical to the most precious dress in my collection. I ran to my closet and dug to the very bottom. The box was empty.

I drove straight to Wallace’s studio. On the way there, memories of my mother sewing that dress while she was dying of cancer kept flashing in my mind. When I was little, I hated wearing the same clothes as other kids. So, every year for my birthday, my mom would make me a custom dress. Until my seventeenth birthday. That year, she started working on the silk slip dress months in advance—from her hospital bed. Between chemotherapy sessions, she would sew stitch by stitch. She finished it the day before she passed away. It was the last birthday gift she ever gave me. I only wore it on my birthday, and only for half a day, because I was so afraid of ruining it. I pushed open the studio door. Wallace, who usually kept a professional distance from female models, had his arms wrapped around Juliet from behind, adjusting the tape measure around her waist. They looked incredibly intimate. Seeing me enter, Wallace’s face darkened, as if I had ruined their fun. “Give me my dress back,” I said, my voice cold. He knew the story behind that dress. He knew exactly what it meant to me. But looking at him, all I saw in his eyes was his adoration for Juliet. He paused for a few seconds, his tone growing arrogant. “Alice, honestly, this dress looks much better on Juliet. Don’t you think?” “You’re too skinny. You can’t fill it out. But Juliet has real curves. It fits her perfectly.” My whole body began to shake with rage. “So just because it fits her, you think you can steal it?” “Take it off right now, or I’m calling the police!” Wallace looked at me as if I had lost my mind. He immediately stepped in front of Juliet, shielding her. I was so angry that I rushed forward to grab the dress. In the scuffle, a pair of heavy fabric shears fell off the cutting table, plunging straight into the top of my foot. Pain exploded through my body as blood began to pour onto the floor. The shears had gone deep. I leaned down and pulled them out, causing a fresh gush of deep red blood to soak my shoe. Juliet started sobbing loudly. “Wallace, does Alice hate me that much?” “I know I’m not as skinny as a real model, but I’m trying so hard…” Compared to the bloody hole in my foot, Juliet’s fake tears obviously hurt Wallace much more. He glared at me, his patience entirely gone. “Alice! Do you have to make her cry to be satisfied? Apologize to Juliet right now!” “Me? Apologize?” The physical pain in my foot was excruciating, but it was nothing compared to the hollow feeling in my chest. Juliet grabbed Wallace’s arm, acting like the bigger person. “Wallace, don’t argue with her. You’ve been working so hard lately.” “Alice, I’ll take the dress off right now. Please stop making a scene.” Her words only made Wallace’s heart ache for her more. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and looked at me with disgust. “Since Juliet is willing to be the bigger person, I’ll let this go.” “But you’re going to walk down to that bakery and buy Juliet’s favorite blueberry cheesecake to apologize. Otherwise, you’re never getting this dress back.” He was doing it again. Making me “apologize” for things that weren’t my fault. If I ate a little extra for dinner, he made me run ten miles to “apologize.” If I drank too much water and looked bloated in the morning, he made me take a freezing ice bath to “apologize.” I looked at him, and any remaining love I had for this man completely died. Only the desperate urge to escape was left. “Fine,” I said quietly. Wallace was stunned. He hadn’t expected me to give in so easily. He let out a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you’re finally starting to be reasonable. Go on then. When you get back, we’ll talk about the wedding details.” At the mention of the flowerless wedding, I let out a dry laugh. “There won’t be a wedding. Once I get my dress back, we are completely finished.” Wallace assumed I was just being dramatic. He was already busy wiping Juliet’s tears with a tissue. I limped out of the studio, ignoring the pain in my foot, and hailed a taxi on the street.

I didn’t expect the ride to be a nightmare. The driver was driving erratically, slamming on the horn and speeding down the road. He was gritting his teeth, muttering and ranting about how his wife had cheated on him. Realizing something was terribly wrong, I grabbed my phone and spammed Wallace on Snapchat. [Wallace, my driver is acting crazy. Call the police for me.] [He’s mentally unstable. I’m in danger.] [Please, see this message and call the police!] We were about a mile away from the bakery when the driver suddenly turned to me, his eyes bloodshot. “I heard this bakery is great. Do you like cake too?” My heart was in my throat. I tried to keep my voice steady. “I’m just picking it up for someone else. I’ve never had it.” Just then, my phone rang. It was Wallace. Under the driver’s suspicious gaze, I trembling clicked accept. But it wasn’t Wallace’s voice. It was Juliet’s mocking tone. “Alice, stop spamming Wallace to get his attention.” “He’s busy using the fabric from your mother’s dress to design a new piece for me.” “And what’s with this fake emergency? Do you really think Wallace has time for your drama right now?” “Why don’t you just go die and see if he actually cares?” My back was soaked in cold sweat. Before I could scream for help, Juliet hung up the phone. The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror, his expression turning cold and sinister. “I was going to give you a chance because you looked so pretty going to get cake.” “But it turns out you’re just like me. Unloved. Pathetic.” “Why don’t we just die together?” With a wild laugh, he yanked the steering wheel, crashing the car straight through the bridge railing. “No!” I reached forward to stop him, but it was too late. The car plummeted off the bridge, crashing into the freezing river below. The violent impact shattered my bones, and my body went numb. Before I lost consciousness, all I could feel was the biting cold of the water. Meanwhile, back at the studio, Wallace’s assistant rushed into his office. “Wallace, we have a massive problem.” “The James Group—our biggest investor—just pulled all their funding. We don’t have enough capital to launch the new collection!” Wallace rubbed his temples, frustrated. “Alice was the one who secured that investment. I’ll call her and see what’s going on.” But before he could dial, a breaking news alert popped up on his laptop screen. [Local Tragedy: A taxi driver went on a suicidal rampage today. The driver died on impact, but a female passenger was pulled from the river with severe injuries. She is currently in critical condition at General Hospital.] A sudden wave of dread washed over Wallace. He opened Snapchat. The moment he saw the chat history, his blood ran cold. The screen was filled with desperate SOS messages from Alice. Juliet came up behind him, whining. “Wallace, Alice was just playing a prank earlier, pretending she was in danger. I already called and chewed her out.” “Just ignore her. Hey, do you think Alice has any other vintage dresses I could borrow? Like that silk one…” Wallace turned on her, his face pale with fury. “Shut the hell up!” he roared. “All you care about is stealing her things!” “Do you realize you might have just killed her?!” He grabbed his car keys and drove like a maniac to the hospital. When he burst through the door of the ICU wing, he froze. Standing outside my room was a man he never expected to see. Wallace stuttered, “M-Mr. James? What are you doing here?”

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My husband had recently become obsessed with filming “couple prank” videos for TikTok. Late one night, he suddenly called me. His voice was unusually serious. “I cheated on you.” I thought it was just another one of his carefully prepared pranks. Playing along, I answered without hesitation,, “What a coincidence. I cheated too.” I waited for him to laugh and say, “Got you!” Like he always did. Instead, the line went silent. A few seconds later, he let out a relieved chuckle. “Thank God. Now I don’t have to worry about violating the prenup.” “The divorce papers are in the safe. The password is our wedding anniversary.” Then he hung up. Still smiling, I walked to the safe and entered the code. The divorce papers… were real. Just as I was about to call him back to confront him, my phone buzzed with a message from his new assistant. “Mrs. Carter, this isn’t a prank.” “I’m pregnant with your husband’s child. I’m six months along.” **Chapter 1** A photo of a pregnant belly was sent to my phone. I went completely cold, waves of nausea washing over me. I forced down the sickness and called Ethan back. It took three tries before he finally picked up. A young woman’s sweet, whiny voice came from the other side. “Babe, who is it? Calling so late…” Then came Ethan’s cold voice. “Did I not make myself clear?” I quickly explained, “I didn’t cheat! I thought you were recording another prank challenge, so I just played along…” He cut me off with a scoff. “Changing your story now? Did you see the terms in the divorce agreement and want to clear your name?” “Let me tell you, that’s not happening.” “I’ve already recorded you admitting to cheating.” “With my current net worth and resources, you stand absolutely zero chance if we go to court.” “For the sake of our history, I’ll let you keep the condo downtown, plus an extra three million dollars. Consider it my thanks for you staying at home to take care of me all these years.” He paused. “Sign the papers tomorrow. Let’s make this clean.” I married him right after college. I was by his side when he started from nothing, watching his tech company grow into an industry giant. I watched him become a billionaire. And in the end, my ten years of devotion and sacrifice were only worth a condo and three million dollars? His casual words crushed my heart into dust. My voice trembled. “Ethan! I know you’re doing this for a TikTok prank. Please stop lying to me, okay?” I still didn’t want to believe it, desperately clinging to that sliver of hope. But the voice on the other end changed. It was his new assistant, Olivia Ward. “Chloe, Ethan isn’t filming a prank. What’s between us is real.” “I’m already pregnant.” The phone seemed to be snatched back, but I could hear his faint voice in the background. “Why waste your breath on her? Let’s keep going.” My chest burned with acid. Before I could say another word, the call was disconnected. When I tried calling back, his phone was already turned off. I couldn’t sleep. I sat there in a daze for a long time. My tears soaked into the silk nightgown he had bought me just yesterday. “Sweetheart, I had a designer custom-make this for you. I hope it helps you sleep better.” I smiled bitterly, wiping my nose, and looked down at the diamond bracelet on my wrist. He had given me this bracelet the day before yesterday. “The moment I saw it, I knew it was perfect for you.” “People say women age after marriage, but to me, you’ll always be the girl who stole my heart.” I ripped the bracelet off and slammed it onto the hardwood floor. There was no going back… At eight o’clock the next morning, Ethan sent me a location. [Come here at ten. Bring the signed divorce papers.] Looking in the mirror, I seemed to have aged three years overnight. I had to apply concealer five times just to hide the dark circles under my eyes. I tried my best to look put together, but nothing could hide how exhausted I was after a sleepless night. When I arrived at the cafe, I saw Ethan sitting with Olivia. She sat right next to Ethan, leaving the seat opposite them empty. As soon as I sat down, Ethan pushed an iced Americano toward me. “I ordered this for you.” “But I never drink iced Americanos. You know I have a sensitive stomach. My ulcer just flared up again two days ago. I can’t drink cold things.” He frowned and pulled the coffee back. “Sorry, I forgot.” Just as he was about to order me something else, Olivia spoke up with a look of mock apology. “Chloe, I’m so sorry. That coffee was actually meant for me. This warm milk is what Ethan ordered for you.” “But my stomach suddenly hurt, and I wanted something warm, so I swapped them.” I didn’t hear a word she said. I just stared at her twenty-two-year-old face, feeling a sharp pang of envy. She was so young. No wonder Ethan liked her. I used to look like that, too. Suddenly, she stared at the necklace on my neck and gasped, looking at Ethan. “Didn’t I tell you to return this? Why is Chloe wearing it?” **Chapter 2** I frowned. “What do you mean?” Olivia smiled brightly. “Ethan saw this necklace and thought it would look good on me, so he bought it.” “But I didn’t really like it, so I told him to return it.” This necklace was a gift from Ethan for our seventh wedding anniversary, six months ago. “I was busy with meetings all day today, but I managed to slip out to the mall to pick this out. I thought it would look great on you.” I had looked at the pendant design and teased him with a smile, “Why did you buy me something that looks like it’s for a teenage girl?” He had just kissed my forehead. “In my heart, you’ll always be the same girl who stole my heart ten years ago. Now, go get ready. I’m making dinner, and we’ll celebrate our anniversary with a candlelit dinner.” Tears flooded my swollen eyes again. I must have looked pathetic. I struggled to unclasp the necklace, ripped it off, and threw it to the ground, letting it gather dust. Ethan looked annoyed. “Alright, calm down. I admit I forgot the exact date of our anniversary back then.” “But I couldn’t just go back empty-handed, so I got you that. I saw you wearing it all the time, so I thought you liked it.” I completely broke down. I grabbed the iced Americano and threw it right in his face. “I wore it not because I liked it, but because you gave it to me!” “Ethan, what do you take me for?” As I screamed those last words, a sharp pain shot through my stomach, and I collapsed onto my seat. But a second later, a cup of sticky, warm milk was splashed all over my face. “Chloe! I’ve always respected you, but how dare you throw coffee at Ethan in public?!” “Since you did that, don’t blame me for returning the favor.” Ethan immediately comforted her. “It’s fine, Olivia. I’m just here for the divorce papers. Don’t waste your time on her.” After Olivia finished wiping the coffee off his face and clothes, he held out his hand to me. “Give me the signed papers. Let’s not waste each other’s time.” “I’m not signing. As long as I don’t divorce you, Olivia will always be nothing but a dirty homewrecker.” Seeing my refusal, his anger flared instantly. “Don’t you have a side piece of your own? Or do you want an open marriage?” I felt sick to my stomach. “I don’t have anyone! I told you, I thought you were filming a TikTok prank, so I played along!” “You’re the only one who cheated!” But he scoffed. “Say whatever you want. This divorce is happening. Besides, you can never give me a child.” “But Olivia is pregnant with my baby. I have to take responsibility.” His words stabbed the most painful, vulnerable part of my heart. Ten years ago, to save Ethan during a mugging, I took a knife wound to the abdomen. The sharp blade pierced my lower stomach, and blood instantly soaked my dress. The doctors fought hard to save my life. But they told me— I would never be able to have children of my own. Ethan had stayed by my hospital bed, crying as he promised me, “Don’t be afraid. It doesn’t matter if we can’t have kids.” “I’ll take care of you for the rest of my life.” “I will never let you down.” The pain made it hard to breathe. Finally, I gathered my thoughts and asked him, “When did you two start?” He didn’t hesitate. “Yesterday was our one-year anniversary. Today is day three hundred and sixty-six.” He remembered it so clearly. **Chapter 3** I smiled. “You’ve been together for so long, and Olivia only got pregnant now?” A condescending smirk played on his lips. “Olivia has standards. She refused to sleep with me until I promised to divorce you.” I stood up on my shaky legs, pointing at him. “Then what was our sex life for the past year to you?” He decided to stop hiding. “Let’s just say I couldn’t bring myself to ruin Olivia, so I used you to satisfy my needs.” “You already know the answer anyway. Why ask? Just to humiliate yourself?” My stomach cramped violently, and I dry-heaved again. The milk on my face tasted bitter, and I laughed at myself. “So the nightgown and the diamond bracelet… they were just things Olivia didn’t want, right?” He didn’t answer, which was as good as a confession. He just kept urging me without looking up. “Just sign it.” I pulled the papers from my bag and tore them to shreds. “Never. I won’t let you two be together!” Olivia threw a stack of photos onto the table, sliding them to me with a smug smile. “Chloe, I have proof of your affair. If you refuse to sign, we can post these online.” “If that happens, you won’t just lose Ethan—you won’t get the condo or the three million dollars either.” My head spun. I picked up the photos, but before I could even look at them, everything went black and I collapsed. When I woke up, I was lying in a hospital bed. A beam of light fell across Ethan’s face, making him look just like the man who loved me with all his heart ten years ago. He handed me a bowl of oatmeal, his tone surprisingly cold. “You haven’t eaten all day. Eat this, then sign the new papers. After that, we’re done.” Weakly, I took the bowl. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted my medical chart on the bedside table. It clearly read: stomach bleeding and hypoglycemia. My hand shook, and the hot oatmeal spilled all over the blanket. I closed my eyes, breathing heavily. The cold air in the hospital room made me shiver. Ethan scoffed in disgust. “What are you acting weak for? You think this will stop the divorce?” “Ethan… I really didn’t cheat. There is no one else. Only you!” To my explanation, he simply threw a new set of papers at me. “Now the condo and the three million are off the table. You’re leaving with nothing. If you’re not happy, we can take this to court.” “Ethan, I helped build that company too!” I yelled, my eyes red. “Are you kidding me? You’ve been a housewife for years. The shares are all in my name.” With that, he shoved a pen into my hand. “Sign it. Don’t make me say it again.” Enduring the sharp pain in my stomach, I looked at the photos. In the pictures, I was acting intimately with a man I didn’t even recognize. There were even photos of us kissing. We were wearing five different outfits, implying we had met five times. Olivia walked in from the hallway, her voice soft and sweet. “Chloe, I didn’t want to show these to Ethan. I wanted to save you some dignity.” “But since you refused to sign, I’ll just have to post them online.” **Chapter 4** My heart squeezed painfully. I grabbed Ethan’s hand, trying to explain. “Listen to me, I don’t even know this man!” “I don’t want to hear it.” He cut me off, looking completely annoyed. “You don’t have to sign. We can go straight to court. It’ll just take a bit more time, but the result will be the same.” The pain in my stomach grew worse, and my heart ached in sync. After a couple of seconds of silence, I spoke in a raspy voice. “Fine. I don’t want to drag this out either.” Once he got the signed papers, he tossed a card onto the bed. “The three million is gone, but there’s thirty thousand dollars on this card. It should last you a while.” How pathetic. Ten years of youth and devotion. His net worth was in the billions, and I was worth thirty thousand dollars. He took Olivia’s hand and walked out of the room. Tears blurred my vision as I called out quietly behind him, “Ethan, you better not regret this.” He paused slightly and said, “I hope you and your lover are happy too.” After they left, I sat alone on the hospital bed, looking at the photos, a cold smile forming on my lips. I didn’t know the man in the photos at all. These photos were definitely photoshopped. Since she dared to frame me, she could wait for a court summons. I gathered all the evidence and filed a lawsuit that very afternoon. The next day, right after I was discharged from the hospital, Ethan’s calls started flooding in. “Chloe, have you lost your mind?!” “Olivia just got a court summons! She just started working, can’t you have some consideration for her?” The phone was quickly snatched away, and Olivia’s whimpering voice came through. “Chloe, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have hired someone to take those photos and expose your affair.” “I’m apologizing to you. Let’s both take a step back. Can you please drop the charges?” Before I could speak, Ethan ordered coldly, “Olivia just caught you with that man. Is it really worth suing her? Come to the cafe across from the office right now. We need to talk.” “I can’t. I just got discharged. I’m not in the mood.” He scoffed. “Not in the mood? Because of your new guy? Did he dump you already?” I just smiled and didn’t answer. “You should actually read what’s on that court summons first.” “Tell Olivia she’s going to pay for what she did.”

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For the ninety-ninth time, Austin drove straight to my boss Brooke’s mansion. And just like every other time, he blamed me. “Why didn’t you remind me we missed the turn?” “Whatever. Since we’re already here, I might as well drop these fruits off at Brooke’s place.” Before I could answer, he grabbed the basket of organic fruit we’d bought for my parents and headed straight for Brooke’s front door. I didn’t stop him. After all, this had become our routine. When we were supposed to pick up my wedding dress, he ended up driving to the golf club where Brooke was playing. When I was burning up with a high fever, he took my medicine to the bar where Brooke was having a business dinner. Even on my birthday, he brought Brooke to what was supposed to be our date. “Brooke’s been under a lot of pressure lately,” he’d said. “You’re her assistant. Try to be more understanding.” But he had completely forgotten. Today was my very last day at the company. It was also the day I was packing up and moving out of our shared apartment. Since he loved being there so much, he could stay and be Brooke’s loyal watchdog for the rest of his life. *** ###

I locked the car doors, sat in the driver’s seat, and started the engine. Just then, an email notification popped up on my phone. My resignation was officially approved. HR emailed me: *“Wishing you all the best in your future endeavors, Chloe.”* I stared at the confirmation screen and typed back a simple, *“Thank you.”* A second later, my phone vibrated. It was a voice message from Austin. “Where did you drive the car? Get back here right now.” I paused. Looking at our chat history, there was a long list of unread messages from me that he had ignored. This rare moment of him taking the initiative to text me felt almost surreal. But before I could even process it, his next message popped up: “Go buy a set of electric screwdrivers and bring them over. Brooke doesn’t have any here.” I stared at the screen for a few seconds. So, he hadn’t suddenly realized I wasn’t behind him. He only noticed my absence because he needed someone to run his errands. I scrolled up through our chat history. Every single message from him was about Brooke. *“Give that perfume set you brought back from Paris to Brooke. I’ll buy you a new one later.”* *“Brooke said she wanted Japanese food. I already used your card to book a table for her.”* Austin’s texts to me were always demands. He made the decisions, and he never once thought to ask for my opinion. Then there was the most recent message from a rainy day. I had texted him asking if he could pick me up from the subway station. He replied: *“I’m out meeting clients right now. Just take an Uber.”* But five minutes later, Brooke posted a photo on her Instagram. An umbrella was tilted entirely over her, shielding her as she got into the passenger seat of a car. *“Almost got stuck in the storm. Thank God for my personal chauffeur,”* her caption read. I knew the car’s interior all too well. It was Austin’s. Back then, I kept telling myself that he was just trying to help me build a good relationship with my boss. I thought he was doing it for my career. But my constant understanding only made him push the boundaries further. This time, I didn’t reply. While I was packing up my desk at the office, another text from Austin came in: “Why aren’t you back yet? Brooke wanted French food, so I took her to the restaurant first. Just Uber over and meet us.” This wasn’t the first time. Whenever we made plans to eat out, if I was even slightly late because of work or traffic, Austin would lose his temper and blame me. He never cared about my feelings. “Brooke is your boss. She’s under a lot of pressure, so it’s normal for her to have a bad temper. What’s the big deal if she snaps at you a little? Stop being so dramatic.” *Stop being so dramatic.* That was also what he said when a pipe burst in my apartment, flooding the entire place. I had called him in a panic. And he had said: “I don’t have time to deal with that. Just call a plumber yourself. Stop being so dramatic.” So, I learned to dry the carpets, change the light bulbs, and fix things on my own. I slowly learned to stop relying on him. But when it came to Brooke, he was a completely different person. “Brooke is always so busy with work. If she needs help around her house, I’ll just handle it. Since she lives so close to Chloe, it’s on my way anyway.” I couldn’t understand. Why was helping me “being dramatic,” but helping Brooke was “just on his way”? I swallowed the bitterness in my throat and texted him back: *“You guys go ahead. I’m busy.”* It took him an hour to reply: *“Are you throwing a tantrum again? Chloe, grow up. Stop acting like a child.”* I used to throw tantrums. Last winter, I had a terrible fever in the middle of the night. Shivering under the blankets, I called him and asked him to bring me some medicine. He told me he was on his way to Brooke’s party because Brooke had had too much to drink, and he needed to bring her painkillers and electrolyte drinks. I told him I was really sick too. He stayed silent for two seconds before saying, “You can still make phone calls, so it can’t be that bad. Just call an Uber to the ER. It’s a twenty-minute drive. Hang in there.” That was the first time I felt I couldn’t take it anymore. He was my boyfriend, yet I was never his priority. I broke up with him that night. But he didn’t even argue. He just blocked my number. He knew I loved him too much. He knew I couldn’t leave him. So, he let me cry for two days straight until my tears ran dry. And then, like a fool, I went back to him. Since then, I had never thrown another tantrum. But this time was different. I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. I was done. *** ###

I got back to my apartment. Packed cardboard boxes were stacked up in the hallway, and the living room looked completely empty. Only then did I realize that after seven years of dating, there were barely any traces of Austin in my apartment. Just a pair of dusty slippers and a coffee mug he used once. And I was the one who bought both of them. He had never given me a decent gift. Yet, for Brooke’s birthday, he went out of his way to order a massive bouquet of her favorite red roses. When I asked him about it, he always said, “Those materialistic things are pointless. Real partners don’t care about fancy gifts.” I had questioned him. I had expressed my frustration. But he simply replied, “I only buy gifts for your boss to make you look good in front of her.” I laughed at my own stupidity. My phone vibrated. It was my mom calling. “Hey, Chloe. Have you and Austin decided on a wedding date yet?” Not long ago, our parents had met. My parents were very happy with him, but when it came to setting a date, Austin said he wanted to focus on his career first and that there was no rush. At the time, though disappointed, I tried to be understanding of his career goals. But now, I only felt relieved. If a man constantly drove his car to another woman’s house before marriage, how could I ever trust him to come home to me after? “Mom, we’re not getting married. I’m breaking up with him.” My mom’s voice instantly grew tense. “Why? Did he cheat on you?” “No. I just realized we’re not right for each other.” Silence fell over the line. After all, everyone knew I had loved Austin desperately for seven years. I was the one who chased him first. To get close to him, I joined the outdoor hiking club he liked and hung out at his favorite coffee shops just to “bump into” him. After graduation, he got a job offer in Los Angeles. Without a second thought, I turned down a prestigious recommendation from my professor and took an assistant job at Brooke’s company just to be in the same city as him. My mom was so angry she didn’t speak to me for three days, but I only told her, “Mom, if I lose him, I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.” Back then, Brooke even joked with me: “Chloe, you are completely whipped. He’s got you locked down.” Brooke used to be a good boss. She looked out for me, and we got along like friends. But no one expected that she would eventually enjoy my boyfriend’s undivided attention without a single shred of guilt. I opened Instagram and saw Brooke’s latest post. It was a video of her romantic dinner. The location was tagged at the high-end French restaurant I had mentioned to Austin dozens of times. The candles flickered, the plates were artfully arranged, and a live piano played in the background. Every time I asked Austin to take me there, he would say, “We’re saving up for a wedding, Chloe. Can you be more practical? A single dinner there costs hundreds of dollars. We can have a candlelit dinner at home.” But now, just because Brooke wanted French food, he took her to the exact restaurant I had been dreaming of. I sank onto the couch, feeling utterly exhausted. Last year, when I bought a heavy wardrobe, I called Austin to ask if he could help me assemble it. He said he had a team-building event and told me to hire a tasker. To save money, I spent the entire night assembling it myself by watching YouTube tutorials. I ended up cutting my hand on a sharp screw. Yet, when Brooke bought new cabinets, Austin took a half-day off from work to help her. “It’s heavy lifting, and Brooke is living alone. As her friend, I should help out,” he had said. I remembered watching him sweat as he worked on her furniture, realizing he looked like a complete stranger to me. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to assemble furniture. He just didn’t want to waste his time on me.

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1 I can smell when a heart turns. Pure love is sweet; when it rots, it reeks of vinegar. This gift made me a fidelity appraiser, hired daily by women to sniff out cheating. Then came an odd request from a student wanting me to test her wealthy sponsor. Fidgeting with her bag, she confessed he flew home at midnight to console her, stayed up talking, and even kissed her while she slept. “Please follow us today,” she asked, smiling shyly. I agreed, missing the malice in her eyes. An hour later, trailing them, I breathed in the thick sweetness of real romance. As I reached for my phone, he turned, and I froze. It was my husband, Hampton. Only a few hours earlier, he had held me in our kitchen, kissing me deeply and promising he would be away on a three-day business trip. My mind went entirely blank. Without even saying goodbye to the client, I hailed a cab and rushed back home. Not long after I arrived, the front door clicked open. Hampton walked in, immediately pulling me into his arms. The air around him was tainted with a faint, sour tang, heavily masked by a strange, floral perfume. I stiffened, my nose wrinkling. “Did you change your cologne?” His arms tightened around me, his body freezing for a fraction of a second. “Oh, the company just hired a new assistant. We had to work closely on a project earlier. I must have picked up her scent. I’ll be more careful.” “A new assistant?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even. A look of genuine pride and fondness washed over his face. “Yes, Erica. She’s the student I’ve been sponsoring. She’s incredibly driven. Every time I see her working, it reminds me of how hard you used to push yourself when we were younger.” He kissed my forehead, a gesture that felt more like a distraction than affection. “What’s with the interrogation? Surely you aren’t jealous of a young student?” I didn’t answer. I merely held my breath, desperate to escape the suffocating mix of cheap perfume and rising sourness. “Is that so? For a moment, I thought you used the business trip as an excuse to see someone else,” I said, trying to sound playful, though my chest felt as if it were being squeezed by iron bands. The sour scent in the air spiked instantly, sharp and bitter. Hampton averted his eyes. “You and your jokes. You must be hungry. I’ll go make us some dinner.” In that single moment, my heart plummeted into a freezing abyss. We had been together since we were eighteen, sweethearts who had survived everything side by side. Hampton’s heart had always belonged entirely to me. When I was twenty, my abusive father had raised a wooden club to strike me. Hampton had thrown himself over my body, taking the heavy blow instead. As blood dripped down his forehead, he had looked back at my sobbing form and smiled. Don’t cry, Celeste. As long as I’m here, no one will ever hurt you again. When I was twenty-eight, my landlord had secretly filmed me in my own apartment and leaked the videos online. Standing on the edge of a rooftop, feeling utterly worthless, I had wanted to jump. Hampton had flown eight hundred miles, rushing up to the roof to pull me into his arms, sobbing. Celeste, look at me. This is not your fault. Through all those years, the scent of his love had remained perfectly, unbreakably sweet. Until today. I clutched my shirt, trying to cling to any shred of hope. What if my ability was malfunctioning? What if I was just letting my anxiety get the better of me? I held onto that hope until bedtime. I watched Hampton as he stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hair. “Hampton, do you believe a person can love two people at the same time?” His movements halted for a single beat. That split second felt like a needle driving straight into my eye. He resumed drying his hair, his voice entirely casual. “Are you still overthinking things because of Erica? Stop worrying. I only love you.” He leaned down to press a soft kiss against my cheek, but I could smell it, the sudden, overwhelming wave of sourness that flooded the air the moment the lie left his lips. The next morning, Hampton prepared breakfast just as he always did. The milk was warmed to the exact temperature I liked, a habit he had kept for five years of marriage. But today, he took a photo of the breakfast plate, smiling as he typed a message on his phone. The sour scent grew even thicker. I chewed on my toast, but it tasted like ash. Suddenly, a loud, frantic ringtone shattered the silence. Hampton’s face turned pale. A weak, sobbing female voice came through the speaker. “Hampton, my head hurts so much. I feel so sick.” He stood up immediately, grabbing his coat and rushing toward the door, completely forgetting his car keys on the table. “I’m on my way.” He paused at the door, covering the microphone, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Celeste, something urgent came up at the office. Take a taxi today.” I sat in silence as the front door slammed shut. After a long while, I stood up, took his spare keys, and went down to his car. Inside, a delicate new ornament hung from the rearview mirror. The car freshener had been replaced with a heavy, cloying scent of freesia. I had always despised strong floral scents, which was why he had always chosen subtle woodsy colognes in the past. I reached into the side pocket of the driver’s door and pulled out a lipstick. It was a bright, youthful pink. It was a shade I would never wear, meant for someone much younger. My fingers clenched around the tube, my nails digging into my palms. On my drive to work, I passed a high-end restaurant I had wanted to visit for months. Every time I had brought it up to Hampton, he had brushed me off. The reservations are too difficult to get, Celeste. Besides, I’m too busy with work. You should go with your friends. Instinctively, I pulled the car over and walked inside. There, by the window, Hampton was sitting across from Erica, gently stroking her cheek. In that instant, a breathtakingly sweet fragrance filled my senses. It was the scent of Hampton’s pure, untainted love, but it wasn’t directed at me. It was entirely for her. My vision blurred, but no tears fell. “Hampton!” I lost all my dignity, screaming his name as I marched toward their table. The quiet chatter of the restaurant died instantly. “Celeste?!” Hampton gasped, staring at me in absolute shock. “What are you doing here?” He stood up, instinctively shielding Erica, whose face had gone pale with fright. Standing before me, the sweet scent on Hampton vanished, replaced by an overwhelming, toxic sourness that choked my lungs. His love for her had completely eclipsed his love for me, proven by the way he stood protectively in front of her. “My husband is about to kiss another woman, and I’m not allowed to be here?” I laughed, the sound hollow and sharp. Erica burst into tears, shrinking back behind him. Hampton wiped her tears away, looking at me with a heavy sigh. “I am her benefactor, Celeste. Erica is young, she’s just confused about her feelings of dependency.” He paused, his voice hardening slightly. “I sponsored her because she reminded me of how difficult your own childhood was. There is no need for you to act like this.” Erica peeked from behind his shoulder, her voice trembling. “I’m so sorry, Celeste. I never wanted to come between you two. It’s just that no one has ever treated me as well as Hampton has.” A fuse blew in my mind. I lunged forward, grabbing Erica’s arm, trying to drag her out from behind him. “You knew exactly what you were doing!” “Hampton, help me!” Erica cried out, deliberately collapsing toward him. “Celeste! Stop this!” Hampton’s face turned furious. His hand clamped around my wrist like an iron vise, squeezing so hard I was forced to let go. The whispers around the restaurant grew louder. “She can’t even keep her husband, so she takes it out on a young student. How pathetic.” “He said he’s just her sponsor. She’s completely overreacting.” “Look at her acting like a madwoman. No wonder her husband is looking elsewhere.” Several people pulled out their phones, recording the scene. “Stop making a scene. Haven’t you embarrassed us enough?” Hampton hissed through clenched teeth. I looked at Erica, who was hiding a smug smile behind her hands. Unable to contain the rage, I swung my hand and slapped her across the face. She cried out, stumbling backward into Hampton’s chest. Seeing this, Hampton shoved me away with immense force. I lost my balance, crashing hard onto the tiled floor. My arm swept a glass cup off the edge of a nearby table. It shattered, the sharp shards slicing deep into my forearm. Blood began to pool, mixing with the spilled water on the floor. Hampton stared at his hands in disbelief, his voice shaking. “Celeste, I didn’t mean to—” I couldn’t hear him anymore. A sharp, stabbing pain flared in my lower abdomen, accompanied by the suffocating, bitter stench of Hampton’s betrayal. My vision went dark, and I blacked out. When I finally regained consciousness, the sharp smell of hospital disinfectant filled my nose. Hampton was nowhere to be seen. I sat up with great effort and reached for my phone. My inbox was empty, save for two messages Hampton had sent three hours ago. The doctor said you’re fine. You crossed a line today, Celeste. I’ve left for my business trip. Let’s take some time apart to cool down. My fingers trembled as I typed a reply, still clinging to a pathetic shred of hope. Is Erica with you? I tapped send. A bright red exclamation mark flashed on the screen. He had blocked me. I stared at the screen, unable to deny the truth any longer. He didn’t love me anymore. For two days, Hampton made no attempt to contact me. When the nurse came to discharge me, she looked at me with deep sympathy. “Mrs. Ward, your chart shows you are eight weeks pregnant. Is your husband not coming to pick you up?” I was pregnant? My hand slowly moved to my stomach. This child was entirely unplanned, and my mind spun in confusion. As I hesitated, several patients walking by stared at me, whispering and pointing. A sense of dread washed over me. I opened my phone with shaking hands. My name was trending at the very top of the local news search. Erica had posted a video online. In it, she wept bitterly, claiming she was a hard-working student who had earned her scholarship, only to be falsely accused of being a mistress by her sponsor’s jealous wife. She claimed I had physically assaulted her and threatened to have her expelled. In the comments, someone had leaked my past trauma, posting about how my landlord had filmed me, claiming I was a loose woman who had seduced the landlord myself. The comments were a toxic tide of hatred. She’s dirty herself, so she thinks everyone else is dirty too. What kind of woman behaves like this? No wonder her husband wants out. I’m at the hospital right now. The nurses say she’s pregnant. Her husband should probably get a paternity test. No! That’s not true! It’s all lies! I screamed in my mind, but looking up, I only saw the judgmental, disgusted stares of the people around me. I stumbled out of the hospital, desperately calling Hampton. If he would just answer, he would fix this. He knew the truth about the landlord. He would protect me. The phone rang until it went to voicemail, over and over again. My hand dropped, the phone slipping from my fingers and clattering onto the pavement. Tears finally spilled over. I remembered how Hampton had been spending more and more time on his phone over the past year, always claiming it was work. Now I realized his attention had been entirely on Erica. He wouldn’t even take my calls anymore. I let out a bitter laugh. Celeste, you are such a fool. I will not wait for you anymore, Hampton. I gathered what little strength I had left, hailed a cab, and went home. When I woke up again, I was lying in our bedroom, changed into clean pajamas. The door clicked open, and Hampton walked in carrying a bowl of warm porridge. Seeing me awake, he set the bowl down and tucked the blanket around me, his eyes showing a flicker of concern. “I saw the news online. I’ve already had the search results taken down.” “I was only gone for a couple of days. How did you manage to ruin yourself like this?” I didn’t answer. The air in the room was a sickening mix of sweet and sour, making my heart ache with a dull, constant pain. Hampton blew on the porridge, his tone turning cold and accusatory. “But perhaps this is a good thing. This lesson should teach you not to make scenes anymore. Erica and I have a strictly professional relationship. It’s not as dirty as you think.” Strictly professional? I looked up, staring directly into his eyes. Those eyes, which used to look at me with absolute devotion, now held nothing but cold indifference. “Hampton,” my voice was barely a whisper. “I have a secret. I can smell betrayal.” “Years ago, you smelled incredibly sweet to me. There wasn’t a single drop of sourness in you. It was like that from the moment we fell in love.” Hampton’s face froze. “Celeste, you’re exhausted. You’re starting to hallucinate.” I ignored him, continuing quietly. “But everything changed the moment Erica appeared.” “Now, you smell sweet only when you think of her. When you look at me, you smell incredibly sour and bitter.” After a long silence, Hampton stood up, his expression hardening. “You need professional help. Get some rest.” I sat up, trying to grab his hand, but he stepped back, letting me fall forward. At that moment, the front door clicked open. Erica walked into the living room, holding a paper bag. I froze, watching her walk in as if she owned the place. “I’m just here to drop some things off,” Erica said, her voice dripping with mock shyness. “Hampton forgot these at my apartment.” Instinctively, I snatched the bag from her hand and tipped it over. Hampton’s spare underwear and a half-empty box of condoms spilled onto the floor. My hands shook violently. “Is this your strictly professional relationship?!” A flash of panic crossed Hampton’s face, and Erica immediately began to sob. “Celeste, please don’t misunderstand! I must have grabbed the wrong bag by mistake!” Hampton’s attention shifted entirely to Erica, pulling her gently into his arms to comfort her. The air in the room became thick with the sweet scent of their mutual affection, so strong it made me gag. Hampton turned to look at me, his scent toward me turning entirely rancid. “Erica is still fragile from the online backlash. I’m going to take her home. We’ll talk when I get back.” I clenched my fists so hard my nails drew blood. “Hampton,” I called out, my voice cracking. “It’s not over.” “Do you have any idea what they are saying about me online?” My voice trembled. “They are calling me a monster. Even if you took down the search results, the rumors are still spreading. They are dragging my past through the mud again.” His shoulders stiffened slightly. “If…” I thought of the child in my womb, my throat tightening. “If Erica records a video clarifying the truth right now, I will forgive you. This is your last chance.” I reached for my phone. “Enough!” Hampton snapped, slapping the phone out of my hand. “Celeste, you are out of control! A few comments online won’t kill you! First you invent this ridiculous story about smelling love, and now you want to drag an innocent girl into your drama?!” “Lest you forget, I still have the files from your landlord’s camera. Do I need to release them myself to make you behave?” The threat hung in the air, cold and merciless. My strength deserted me, and I collapsed onto the floor, staring at the man before me in absolute disbelief. This was the same man who had deleted those files with shaking hands years ago, whispering that he would protect me. Now, he was using my greatest trauma to threaten me into silence. The coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. Hampton avoided my gaze, turning his back on me. “Calm down and think about what you want. I’ll be back when you’ve cleared your head.” Without looking back, he took Erica’s hand and left. I lay on the cold floor, a sharp, unbearable pain tearing through my lower abdomen. Warm blood began to soak through my clothes. I reached out weakly, trying to grab my phone to call for an ambulance, when a notification popped up on the screen. It was a message from Erica, containing a link. Do you like my gift, sister? I opened the link. My old, private videos had been uploaded online, accompanied by a caption claiming this was the proof of my loose character. The world blurred around me. I felt the last of my strength fade. I pulled the pre-signed divorce papers from my drawer, smeared my bloody thumbprint across the signature line, and left them on the table. I don’t owe you anything anymore, Hampton. Four days later, unable to reach me, Hampton finally rushed back to the apartment. When he opened the door, there was no one home. There was only the dark, dried blood on the floor, and the blood-stained divorce papers resting on the coffee table. His face turned instantly pale.

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1 During the seventh year of our long-distance relationship, Gaff began complaining incessantly about a new intern named Gwen. “I’ve never seen an intern so incredibly useless. Someone actually had to teach her how to use the printer.” “I explained the formatting to her ten times, and she still got it wrong. Does she have water in her brain?” “Do you want to hear the latest stupid thing she did? She managed to spill hot coffee right over our photo.” Whenever Gaff spoke, the conversation inevitably drifted back to Gwen. I once half-jokingly teased him about it. “You know, in romantic comedies, the arrogant boss always ends up falling for the clumsy intern. If that happens, what am I supposed to do?” Gaff had scoffed, his tone dripping with disdain. “Are you serious? Even if the sun rose in the west and the oceans ran dry, I wouldn’t waste a single glance on her.” Then came our seven-year anniversary. I drove for ten grueling hours, covering over seven hundred miles to surprise him for his birthday. But when I pushed the door to his apartment open, Gaff and Gwen were leaning in close, their lips mere inches from touching. I stood frozen in the doorway, my fingernails digging deep into my palms. At that exact moment, I decided I was done fighting for this relationship. … Seeing me, Gaff froze, quickly taking a step back to distance himself from her. The apartment fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. “What are you doing here?” he asked. I stared at him, momentarily speechless. In the past, even when we were separated by a six-hour train ride and hundreds of miles, Gaff would make the trip just to hold me for a few minutes. When his friends mocked him for being hopelessly whipped, he would snap right back at them: You don’t know anything. I don’t want to waste a single second I could be spending with Maeve. But this time, when I was the one who had crossed the distance to see him, he didn’t pull me into his arms. He didn’t murmur how much he missed me in that low, raspy voice of his. Instead, his handsome brow furrowed with irritation, his voice laced with an accusatory edge. I stood still, glancing down at the cake box in my hands. “I came to celebrate your birthday.” Gaff stepped forward, taking the box from me. As he reached out, I noticed a colorful, hand-woven thread bracelet on his wrist. I recognized it instantly. I had seen it the last time he visited me, and the memory was etched into my mind. Gaff despised wearing anything on his wrists, claiming it was too much of a hassle. Even the expensive Rolex I had saved up to buy him for his birthday had only been worn once, on the day I gave it to him. When I had asked about the cheap bracelet back then, he had dismissed my jealousy. It’s just a small token of appreciation from a colleague. I was rushing to catch the train and forgot to take it off. Now, looking closer, I realized the truth. He hadn’t forgotten to take it off. He simply couldn’t bear to part with it. Gaff walked past me to set the cake on the counter, not sparing me another glance. He didn’t hold my hand, nor did he ask about my long drive. He didn’t even notice that my legs felt as heavy as lead, making it difficult to take a single step. Gemma, however, was watching me. The initial look of disappointment and annoyance on her face vanished, replaced by a sweet, welcoming smile as she walked toward me. “You must be Maeve. I’ve seen your picture on Tris—” She caught herself quickly, offering a polite correction. “On Gaff’s desk.” My fingers tightened into fists. My gaze fell to her wrist. She was wearing an identical hand-woven bracelet, the colors perfectly matching Gaff’s. Noticing my stare, Gwen proudly lifted her wrist. “Pretty, isn’t it? I wove it myself. I made one for Gaff too, and he loved it so much he won’t even take it off to shower.” So much for forgetting to take it off. She reached out to take my arm, pulling me into the living room. “Maeve, if you like it, I can weave one for you too.” “No need,” I began, but Gaff interrupted me before the words could leave my mouth. “Forget it,” Gaff said, his voice carrying a gentle, scolding tone that felt far too intimate. “You cut your fingers twice just making those two. Do you want to lose your hands entirely?” Gwen pouted, looking up at him. “I was just inexperienced.” “Just admit you’re clumsy, don’t use inexperience as an excuse.” He was teasing her, but his eyes were filled with an unmistakable warmth. He then turned to me. “If you want one, Maeve, I’ll buy you a proper one, okay?” I looked at him, about to decline, when his eyes suddenly narrowed. “What happened to your arm?” I looked down. Blood was slowly seeping through my sleeve at the elbow. The highway had been dark, and my vision had been blurred by exhaustion. I had scraped against a concrete barrier on the way. I must have injured my elbow then. Gaff’s brow furrowed with concern. “Where else are you hurt?” I shook my head. “I’ll get the first-aid kit.” “I’ll get it!” Gwen volunteered, quickly running toward the storage closet. A moment later, she returned with the kit. “Let me help Maeve clean it.” “I’ll do it,” Gaff said, taking the kit from her. He offered a tight, forced smile. “She’s incredibly sensitive to pain. I don’t think she could handle your rough hands.” Gwen handed over the kit reluctantly, letting out a soft huff. “I only applied a little pressure when I cleaned your scratch the other day. Are you going to bring that up forever?” As Gaff gently dabbed the antiseptic on my cut, I looked at Gwen. “Do you come here often?” Gwen stared at me, as if trying to calculate the meaning behind my question. “You seem very familiar with the apartment,” I continued, my voice quiet. “You knew exactly where the first-aid kit was kept.” She picked up a strawberry from the bowl on the table, taking a bite with casual indifference. “I lived here for two months, so I know where most things are.” I averted my eyes, my nails digging deeper into my palms until the pain became sharp. I looked back at Gaff, my expression frozen. Having finished bandaging my arm, Gaff looked up, meeting my eyes with a look of utter confusion. “What’s wrong?” A second later, the realization seemed to hit him. He glanced at Gwen, then looked back at me, offering a hurried explanation. “She’s incredibly clumsy, Maeve. She managed to fracture her leg just trying to buy some craft supplies. She didn’t have anyone else in the city, so I had to take her in and look after her for a couple of months.” Gwen rolled her eyes at him. “Are you telling my embarrassing stories again? I only got distracted because I was trying to find the exact colors you liked.” “When did this happen?” I asked. “About three months ago,” Gwen replied. Three months ago. That was the exact time Gaff and I had planned our dream trip to Iceland to see the Northern Lights. I had saved up, secured my leave, and bought the tickets. But the day before we were set to leave, he had called to cancel, claiming an urgent business trip had come up. From that day on, he had stopped calling me as often. Whenever I tried to video call him, he would quickly hang up, citing poor reception, meetings, or client dinners. Now, the pieces fell into place. He hadn’t been working. He had canceled our trip to nurse Gwen back to health in his apartment. The answer was staring me in the face. Feeling a sudden wave of physical exhaustion, I excused myself to the bathroom. There, resting on the edge of the sink, was a tube of lipstick in the exact shade Gwen was wearing. I stared at it, a bitter, mocking smile creeping onto my face in the mirror. She had never fully moved out. I had driven ten hours, covering seven hundred miles, but the cake wasn’t the only gift I had brought. I had also brought a surprise he had been begging for. Every time we had to part after our brief visits, Gaff would look at me with tears in his eyes. Maeve, every time you leave, it feels like my heart is being ripped out of my chest. When can we finally live in the same city? Now, the opportunity had arrived. My company was opening two new regional branches, one in the South, near him, and one in the North, thousands of miles away. The North offered a much larger market and better career prospects, but I had chosen the South without hesitation, solely to end our long-distance struggle. I looked at the lipstick on the counter, silently asking myself: Will he even care? When I returned to the living room, Gaff and Gwen were sitting close together, laughing as they ate a different slice of cake. The cake I had brought sat untouched in the corner, forgotten and ignored. I walked over, picked up my cake, and carried it to the refrigerator. It was an ice cream cake; it would melt if left out. But the moment I pulled the refrigerator door open, I froze. The shelves were packed to the brim with fresh strawberries. The sight dragged me instantly into the darkest memories of my childhood. At the group home where I grew up, the cook had used a strawberry to lure me into a dark, locked pantry. The door had slammed shut, plunging me into pitch-black terror as he advanced on me. Since that day, strawberries had been my trigger, causing severe panic attacks and flashbacks. For years, Gaff had made sure there was never a single strawberry in our presence. He had even blocked strawberry-related content on his social media feeds to keep me from seeing them. Yet now, the refrigerator was overflowing with them. My body began to shake uncontrollably, my voice trembling as I spoke. “Gaff.” He looked up from his plate. “Yeah?” “Let’s break up.” Gaff froze. In an instant, he rushed over, slamming the refrigerator door shut to block the fruit from my sight. “It’s okay, you’re safe,” he murmured, his hands wrapping tightly around my arms as he tried to soothe me. “I’m here, I’m here.” I slowly regained my composure, staring at his face. “Did you forget?” “Of course I didn’t,” he said, his brow furrowing with mild annoyance. “But Gwen loves them, and her own refrigerator was full, so she kept some of them here. You shouldn’t have showed up without warning, Maeve. If you had told me you were coming, this wouldn’t have happened.” I stared at him, realizing how unfamiliar he had become. “I’m going to drive Gwen home. You should take some time to calm down,” he said. With those words, he took Gwen’s hand and led her out of the apartment. My phone buzzed in my hand. It was a message from my regional director. I need your final decision on the transfer by tonight. My fingers shook as I typed out my reply. The Northern branch. The director replied almost instantly. Understood. I’ll book your flight for tomorrow. After what felt like hours, the front door opened, bringing in the faint scent of Gwen’s sweet perfume. Gaff walked into the living room, reaching out to wrap his arms around me, leaning in to kiss my lips. I stepped back, escaping his touch. “We broke up, Gaff. Don’t touch me.” Gaff’s expression cooled, his eyes turning dark. “Maeve, you made your point earlier. But you’re not a child anymore. Throwing tantrums like this is getting old.” My voice remained entirely calm. “I’m not throwing a tantrum. I am leaving you.” The silence in the room became heavy. Gaff stared at me, a look of genuine disbelief crossing his face. “You’re really going to end a seven-year relationship over a few strawberries?” A quiet ache settled in my chest. I remembered when we were children at the group home. A boy had played a prank on me, hiding a strawberry in my lunchbox. I had stood there, shaking and crying, as the other kids laughed at me. The next day, that boy had opened his desk to find a live snake inside, turning pale with terror. It had been Gaff’s doing. When the director of the home had demanded an apology, Gaff had stood tall, refusing to back down. He put a strawberry in Maeve’s lunchbox. He deserved it. It was just a harmless joke, the director had argued. It might be a joke to you, Gaff had shot back, glaring at everyone in the room. But to me, anything that hurts Maeve is the most important thing in the world. If any of you try it again, see what happens. “Gaff, wait. A cockroach?” Gaff’s voice broke through my memory as he answered his phone. His tone turned frantic. “Gwen is absolutely terrified of bugs. I need to go help her. I’ll be right back.” “Gaff,” I called out. “Since when is a cockroach a life-or-death emergency?” The only answer I received was the heavy slam of the front door. I stood alone in the quiet apartment, the August air suddenly feeling incredibly cold. My phone buzzed with the flight confirmation from my director. Departure: Tomorrow at 3:20 PM. Destination: The Northern Branch. The next morning, Gaff insisted on taking me for a drive, claiming we were going to hike. After forty minutes, the car pulled up outside a modern apartment complex. I looked at him in confusion. “I promised Gwen we would go hiking today,” he explained, not looking at me. “She didn’t want you to feel left out, so she suggested we bring you along.” He added a touch of scolding to his voice. “See how considerate she is? You really shouldn’t have reacted the way you did yesterday.” I turned my head away, staring out the window as a sharp pain flared in my chest. Gwen walked up to the car, wearing a white t-shirt with a massive strawberry printed on the front. I closed my eyes, trying to control my breathing. “Gwen gets carsick easily, so she should sit in the front,” Gaff said. I looked at him, stunned. He had once promised me that the front passenger seat was my exclusive spot, and that he would never let another woman sit there. “It’s fine, Gaff. I can sit in the back,” Gwen said, though she remained standing by the passenger door, not making any move to open the back. Gaff’s expression darkened, his voice dropping. “Maeve, don’t make things difficult for Gwen today.” Without a word, I opened the door and climbed into the back seat. It didn’t matter. After today, I would never have to sit in his car again. At the summit of the mountain, Gwen pointed at the bungee jumping platform. “Gaff, I want to try that! Will you jump with me?” Gaff froze, a look of terror crossing his face. He was deathly afraid of heights. Years ago, when I had stood near a ledge, he had begged me on his knees, sobbing, too terrified to take a single step closer. But now, Gaff looked at the drop, took a deep breath, and nodded. “Okay, I’ll jump with you.” I watched in silence. Gaff put on the harness, wrapped his arms tightly around Gwen, and together, they plunged into the open air. The mountain wind howled around me, feeling incredibly cold. When they returned, they were flush with excitement, laughing and sharing their experience. “Gaff, you’re the best! I would have never had the courage to jump without you!” “I promised I would always be there to help you face your fears, didn’t I?” Gaff then turned to me, his tone carrying a heavy significance. “Maeve, you should try to face your fears too. Just like I did.” He didn’t say the word strawberries because of Gwen, but I knew exactly what he meant. Gwen reached out, taking my arm. “Maeve has already been so brave today!” She pointed to her shirt. “I wore this strawberry shirt on purpose, and she didn’t panic at all. See, my exposure therapy is working!” She turned to Gaff, smiling. “Gaff, tell me I did a good job.” Gwen then pulled a small plastic container of strawberries from her bag, holding one out to my lips. “Maeve, it wasn’t your fault. Just take one bite, and you’ll see there’s nothing to be afraid of. You can finally put the past behind you.” I stared at her, my eyes wide. “How do you know about that?” “I…” Gwen stammered, looking at Gaff. The wind swept over the peak, carrying a sudden, heavy silence. I looked at Gaff. “You told her?” Gaff looked away, struggling to find his words. “I… I just wanted to help you. You can’t let this keep holding you back…” The world seemed to crumble around me. After that night in the pantry, I had spent ten years waking up screaming from nightmares. The day I turned eighteen, Gaff had taken me away from the children’s home, promising to keep my secret safe forever, to let us build a life where no one knew our pain. Yet now, he had handed my deepest, most painful vulnerability to another woman, treating it as a casual topic of conversation. My phone rang. It was my director. “Maeve, I noticed you haven’t checked in for your flight. Are you having second thoughts?” I bit down hard on my hand, fighting back the sob that threatened to escape. “Maeve? Are you there?” After a long pause, I forced my voice to remain steady. “I’m here. The signal was weak. I’m on my way to the airport now.” “Excellent. I’ll see you in the North.” After hanging up, I took a taxi back to Gaff’s apartment to gather my belongings. My suitcase was quickly packed; I had brought very little with me. Before leaving, I took one last look at the apartment. In the entryway shoe rack, there were three pairs of women’s shoes. Two of them were not mine. In the corner, covered in dust and cobwebs, lay the Rolex I had gifted him for his birthday. I picked it up and tossed it into the trash can. Gwen’s pillows sat on the sofa, her makeup sat on the sink, and her towel hung next to Gaff’s in the bathroom. Gaff and I had been together for seven years, but his home held no trace of me. It belonged entirely to Gwen. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Gaff. Gwen is really upset because of your reaction. I’ll explain everything once I calm her down. I didn’t reply. I shut the door behind me and walked away, never looking back.

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1 My brother was a minor villain in a syrupy romance novel, destined to be ditched by the heroine and fed to the fish by the hero. To save him, I was bound to a system at birth. Whenever he dated the lead, I peed on him; whenever he wrote love letters, I tore them apart with my chubby hands, leaving him too drained to meddle in their affairs. Years later, on receiving my college letter, Mark summoned me. “You’re grown. I’ll fulfill my duty and do what I must.” The system pinged: He planned to bomb the leads’ 10th anniversary. The next day, I brought a bleached-blond punk to Mark, leaning on his tattooed shoulder with boba in one hand and an ultrasound in the other. “Look! He’s no loser—he’ll help run our business once he upgrades his bike. Hand over the shares!” Mark’s face twisted. He dropped the explosives, grabbed my ear, and peeled me off the punk. “My business can wait! Today, I’m dealing with you!” … “Oww, oww, oww!” I grimaced in pain. I frantically pried at his fingers to rescue my poor ear. “Mark! You literally just said I am all grown up! You cannot keep bullying me like I am a little kid!” “Besides…” I gazed up lovingly at the blond punk, Jax, and then lowered my head in exaggerated shyness. “The love of my life is standing right here. Do I not deserve some dignity?” Mark’s face was beet red. He looked like he was going to breathe fire. “You are a child! What do you know about love?!” He snatched a broom from the housekeeper, looking fully prepared to smack my behind. The system’s voice suddenly echoed in my head, sounding genuinely amazed. Host! Host! His Threat Level really dropped from 100 to 90! I felt incredibly smug. Of course it did. Our mother passed away giving birth to me. Mark had played the role of both father and mother to raise me. Now that his precious little princess was about to be kidnapped by a tattooed punk, if he could actually ignore it, I would bow down to him. I dodged around the coffee table to escape him while putting on a tearful, victimized face. “You were willing to abandon me and the entire company just for Cindy! I feel the exact same way about my baby! I would betray the whole world for him! Who are you to say I do not understand love?!” Mark froze. Right at that moment, his phone rang. Cindy’s voice drifted through the speaker. “I thought you were going to try and ruin my wedding anniversary with my husband. It seems you actually have some self awareness.” “Mark, I know you have done a lot for me.” “But you also have your sister—that little burden. If I had chosen you back then, your sister would constantly be fighting me for your attention.” “However, I can give you one more chance to serve me. My husband and I want some alone time today, so you can babysit our kids.” Mark’s face darkened instantly. He gripped his phone so tightly the veins on the back of his hand bulged, but he did not say a word. Cindy always played the role of a delicate, innocent flower in front of the male lead. She only dared to speak to Mark with such arrogant entitlement because she knew his love for her had zero boundaries. The system blared an alarm. Warning! The villain’s Threat Level is rising rapidly! Please take immediate action, Host! If he actually harms the male and female leads, this pocket universe will collapse, and you will be completely erased! I shot Jax a pointed look. He immediately understood the assignment. He nodded solemnly, marched over, and knocked the broom out of Mark’s hand. He stepped protectively in front of me, glaring at Mark with fiery intensity. “My girl is the queen of the gothic underworld.” “When people bully her, I block it. When she has no money for food, I carry the burden. What right does an old man like you have to disrespect her?!” He turned to look at me, his eyes burning with dramatic passion. “My dark queen, do you understand?” I looked deeply moved. Tears welled up in my eyes as I threw myself into Jax’s arms. “My brother does not love me anymore! Well, I do not want him either!” “You said you wanted to do donuts on his grave with your motorcycle? I will not stop you anymore.” Mark squeezed his eyes shut. I could practically see his heartbeat pounding against his chest. “Mark, you were the one who begged to enter my house before. I am giving you a chance now, do not waste it.” “Can you be here in ten minutes?” Cindy demanded arrogantly from the phone. Mark ground his teeth together and hung up the phone. “I am about to have a stroke because of Penelope, and you want me to babysit for you?!” “I am busy!” He threw his phone onto the sofa and chugged three glasses of ice water before his breathing finally leveled out. “Are you really pregnant?” “Get rid of the baby, break up with this punk, and you can still be my sister.” This time, I didn’t refuse immediately. If I acted too stubborn, what if he just gave up on me and went right back to chasing the female lead? After all, he was the devoted second male lead that left countless readers heartbroken. His feelings for the female lead were no joke. I asked, “Mark, why are you against me and my baby?” Mark looked at me like I was a complete idiot. “Because he cannot give you a good life.” “If I knew you were going to end up with a deadbeat punk, I never would have spoiled you. I should have just thrown you in the slums.” I immediately applied his own logic back to him. “But Cindy never gave you a good life either.” “Just to make her smile, you spent thirty million dollars at an auction to buy the Heart of the Ocean. You broke the company’s entire cash flow. But she just turned around, wore the necklace you bought, and married Liam!” I pointed out the window at Buster, the golden retriever. “That dog has bitten me so many times. You refuse to get rid of it just because Cindy gave it to you.” “Your reasons for opposing us make absolutely no sense! You are just jealous because we are true lovers who actually get to be together!” Jax looked at me with stars in his eyes. “You are so smart. I officially crown you the Goddess of Wisdom.” He dropped to one knee and started belting out a cheesy love song. His singing mixed with the dog barking outside. Mark pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked completely defeated. “Butler, take Buster back to Cindy. I do not want him anymore.” “And now I am ordering you—kick this little blond punk out of my house.” The system chimed happily. The second male lead’s Threat Level has dropped again! Keep up the good work, Host! We had made serious progress today. I knew the concept of using a carrot and a stick. “You go home first, baby. I will come find you tomorrow.” After sending Jax off, I planned to get some well deserved rest. But suddenly, the security guard rushed into the living room, looking hesitant. “Sir… Miss Cindy is here. She says she needs to see you.” Mark shot up from the sofa, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What did you say?” Noticing I was still in the room, he realized he was losing his composure. He cleared his throat and sat back down. I took the initiative. “Let Cindy in.” Mark’s mind was already flying toward her anyway. It was better to keep her right under my nose so I could see exactly what kind of drama she was trying to stir up. Cindy ran into the living room, sobbing. She threw herself straight into Mark’s arms. Mark’s entire body went rigid. “Mark, Liam is bullying me! We were supposed to have a romantic date tonight, but he took a business call and just left me at the restaurant.” “I am so heartbroken. You are the only person I could turn to… boohoo…” Mark’s eyes immediately softened with an uncontrollable, painful sympathy. “Do not cry. I will protect you.” His clenched fists slowly relaxed. He raised a hand and gently stroked Cindy’s hair, his eyes darkening. “I will make anyone who hurts you pay the price.” The system started screaming in my head. Warning! The second male lead is formulating a plan to assassinate the male lead! Host, do something! Aaaaaah! I smiled brightly and poured Cindy a cup of tea. “Cindy, you should just stay at our house tonight! My brother is the best at taking care of people.” Cindy did this all the time. Whenever she had a minor argument with the male lead, she would run to Mark and cry about it. Mark would get furious on her behalf and start sabotaging the male lead’s business deals. Then, she would suddenly get upset again, turning around and blaming my brother for ruining her happiness. Mark looked at her with pure anticipation. Just as I expected, Cindy raised her hand and violently swatted the teacup off the table. “Does it look like it is your turn to speak?!” “My husband is the heir to the biggest conglomerate in the city! I have seen plenty of little girls like you. You are just hoping my husband and I get a divorce so you can take my place, aren’t you?!” She stared at my face, a flash of pure, ugly jealousy crossing her eyes. Then, she raised her hand high, aiming a slap right at my face. “A feral child with no mother to raise her really has no manners! I am going to teach you a lesson on your brother’s behalf!” I could not dodge in time, so I instinctively squeezed my eyes shut. But the sharp sting I expected never came. I opened my eyes. Mark had stepped in front of me, taking the slap for me. A bright red handprint blossomed across his cheek. He frowned slightly. “Cindy, I know you are in a bad mood right now.” “But my sister is still a child. Could you show her some respect?” Even though I had lived in this world for eighteen years, I was still utterly astounded by how pathetic his love-brain was. I quietly pulled out my phone and summoned the punk. Despite Mark’s humble, compromising tone, Cindy still exploded. “You are defending another woman against me?!” “I am not staying here! Enjoy the feeling of losing me!” She turned to run out. A flash of panic immediately appeared in Mark’s eyes. [Host! Mark’s Threat Level has shot up to 99! He is planning to lock the female lead in the basement for forced love!] I calmly pulled my phone up to my ear and turned on my most annoying, whiny baby voice. “Baby~ where are you?” “My brother is going out tonight. Take me to get a tattoo! I want to get your name tattooed on my tummy!” “You are my whole world, and our baby’s world too!” Mark’s feet, which had been moving to chase Cindy, slammed to a dead halt. “That old man finally backed off.” “I am almost there, baby! I am going to spoil you so much!” The obnoxious revving of a motorcycle engine echoed outside the courtyard. Jax drove his bike straight into the yard, intentionally running right over a patch of Mark’s carefully cultivated orchids. They were Cindy’s favorite flowers. He reached his hand out to me, flashing a crooked, edgy smirk. “Baby, you do not have to put up a strong front around that old man anymore.” “Because your strength is here.” Mark spun around, striding toward me with the veins bulging in his forehead. “Tell him to get out.” I sidestepped him, hopped onto the back of Jax’s bike, and wrapped my arms tightly around his waist. “If you cannot bear to let Cindy leave, then I cannot bear to kick my baby out either!” “You go chase Cindy. I am going to sleep at the castle my baby rents! He lives there with a dozen of his brothers. I will feel so safe living with all of them!” The second the words left my mouth, the system started clapping for me. [Host, I am scanning the second male lead’s brainwaves, and it is completely blank!] [There is absolutely zero trend toward villainy right now!] Cindy walked away slowly, turning her head back every three steps, fully expecting Mark to drop to his knees and beg her forgiveness like he always did. But she quickly realized that Mark was staring fixedly at me and the punk, his face turning an alarming shade of purple. He did not spare her a single glance. She shouted again, much louder this time. “Mark! I am really leaving! I am never going to speak to you again!” Mark waved his hand dismissively in her direction without looking. “Hurry up and leave, stop interrupting me while I talk to my sister.” Seeing that Mark truly had no intention of coddling her, Cindy absolutely lost her mind. She stormed back over to me, glaring at me like a wife catching a mistress. “Trying to seduce my husband was not enough for you?!” “Now you are watching Mark and this guy fight over you, are you proud of yourself?!” Her logic gave me whiplash. “Lady, Mark is my biological brother.” “What did you just call me?! Are you calling me old?!” “My husband told me I was the little baby in his arms just yesterday!” She grabbed the collar of my shirt, raising her hands to scratch my face with her long acrylic nails. But Jax shoved her hard, sending her tumbling to the ground. “Cindy…” Mark’s pupils contracted. “Security! Throw this punk out!” “Who dares touch me?!” Jax let out a dramatic roar. He looked at Mark with an expression of deep, tragic disappointment. “You are a man. You can be injured, but you can never be weak.” “Since you cannot protect my baby, leave her to me. I will guard my girl.” He revved the engine, ready to peel out. “But remember this—keep your baby in line! If she breaks my baby’s wings, I will destroy your entire heaven!” I cheered, throwing my arms up in the air, looking at him with absolute worship. “Baby, you are so cool! You are way cooler than my brother!” I glanced down at my arm, which was red from where Cindy had grabbed me, and pouted dramatically. “I am a delicate little flower, and I am being crushed by others, and my brother does not even care!” “I am going to rely on you for the rest of my life!” Mark leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes as he aggressively massaged his temples. “Escort Miss Cindy out.” Cindy suddenly let out a cold, sharp laugh. “You show so much favoritism to your sister, but did you know she cannot wait for you to die?” “When you refused to babysit for me, I guessed you were brainwashed by her. So I had someone investigate. And look what I found—the chat logs between her and her boyfriend.” She threw a stack of printed papers onto the ground. Mark picked them up. As he read them, his face grew even darker. He handed them to me, his voice freezing cold. “Did you say these things?” In the chat logs, I had texted Jax: [As soon as the explosives on my brother detonate, you immediately contact the family lawyer to inherit the company. We are going to turn the corporation into a motorcycle manufacturing plant.] I was speechless. I did write that. But Jax and I were literally just acting. I was sending him the script we were supposed to rehearse. Cindy crossed her arms over her chest. “Nothing to say? I guess that means you admit it.” “Mark, I am giving you two choices. Either you come back to my side and continue being my dog.” “Or you keep taking care of this ungrateful backstabber of a sister, and I will never see you again for the rest of my life.” My heart squeezed tight. No one knew just how deeply Mark loved the female lead better than I did. If he chose the first option, interfered in their relationship, and collapsed the world… I would be erased. Mark’s hands clenched into tight fists, then slowly relaxed. He opened his mouth.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “517597”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

1 As I signed the kidney transplant cancellation form, Luke’s face registered pure shock. “Are you out of your mind? You love Krista to death, and you are the only match. Now you are backing out?” I did not even look up. My voice was eerily calm. “Because of a glass of water.” Krista had severe germaphobia. In our house, she absolutely refused to share anything with me. Even a glass I had just touched with my lips was untouchable to her. Until the day I saw a video on the social media account of a college intern working under her. In the video, the kid held up his half-empty energy drink and brought it to her lips. Krista naturally leaned in and took a sip from his hand. She frowned slightly, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Way too sweet. Watch out for your teeth.” Her voice in the recording was unbelievably soft. That night, I sat alone in the pitch-black living room, watching that ten-second clip hundreds of times. The glare of the screen made my eyes burn. When Krista woke up the next morning, I poured a glass of water, took a sip right in front of her, and handed it over. “Take a sip.” She stared at me like I was a complete lunatic. “Rick, are you sick in the head? I never touch anything someone else has drank out of.” Someone else. Married for seven years, and in her eyes, I was just someone else. I forcibly pulled my thoughts out of the memories, gripped the pen, and signed my name at the bottom of the waiver. I turned to look out the window. It was the peak of summer. The asphalt radiated waves of heat under the blazing sun, and the cicadas in the trees were deafening. Krista, and that glass of water. Suddenly, I felt entirely exhausted. I did not want to hold on anymore. Right as I stepped through the automatic glass doors of the hospital, my phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Krista. [Grab some pastries from the deli in the South District. Jace is coming over for dinner.] [He loves barbecue ribs, get the center cut. Oh, and make sure there is no celery or eggplant, he refuses to touch them.] I had been getting my blood drawn repeatedly over the past few days for the transplant prep. I was so dizzy I had to lean against the cold brick wall of the hospital to catch my breath. Luke grabbed my shoulder to steady me, and his eyes accidentally caught the screen of my phone. He instantly blew up. “Is this woman out of her damn mind? She memorized some outsider’s dietary restrictions like she is quoting the Bible, but what about you?” “Last week she had a sudden whim to cook you dinner and stuffed the whole thing with mushrooms! Does she not know you are deathly allergic to that crap? You went into anaphylactic shock right on the floor. If I had not stopped by to see you, you would be in the morgue right now!” My chest tightened as if an invisible hand was crushing my heart. A bitter sting pricked the back of my eyes. When we first got together, Krista still had this clumsy sweetness about her. She would write down my birthday, my favorite things, and the foods that could kill me in her phone notes. Whenever I felt down, she would magically appear with my favorite dessert. Every anniversary, her surprises were perfect. But now, those anniversaries were blank pages. She no longer had the patience for surprises, and she had completely forgotten the allergen that nearly took my life. I finally had to admit that the burning vows from nine years ago had completely rotted away. Every memory had turned into a bloody thorn, ripping my heart to shreds. After a long pause, I shoved the phone back into my pocket and looked at my best friend. “Luke, hook me up with a good lawyer. I want a divorce.” I dragged my leaden legs back to the house. The moment I pushed open our familiar oak door, a freezing, chemical blast of disinfectant spray hit me right in the face. Jace was pinching his nose with one hand and holding a spray bottle in the other, raising an arrogant brow at me. “The professor said outside filth is not allowed in the house. You do not mind, do you, old man?” Fighting the sting in my eyes, I slowly opened them and pinned him with a glare. He was wearing the matching linen shirt Krista and I owned. I had just custom-ordered it from a boutique last week. The tiny pine tree on the cuff was something I stayed up late embroidering myself. Now, it hung loosely on his young frame, reeking of a sickening sense of triumph. I suddenly let out a dry laugh. “I honestly had no idea Professor Krista had such poorly raised punks working under her.” Jace’s face instantly went pale. He immediately put on a victimized expression and looked down the hallway. Krista walked out in her slippers, her face as cold as ice. She stepped right in front of Jace, shielding him, and lowered her voice to scold me. “Rick, watch your mouth. Jace was just playing a harmless joke. Do you have to be so bitter?” A joke? I gritted my teeth. I wanted to scream at her. Was sharing a drink a joke? Was him strutting around in my custom clothes a joke? How many more of these shady little “jokes” were hiding between them? But looking at her defensive posture, treating him like someone she needed to protect from me, all the words died in my throat. I did not want to ask a single thing anymore. Without a word, I turned around, slammed the front door shut, changed my shoes, and walked to the dining table. I pulled out a chair and sat down. “Krista, I have something to tell you.” Dating for two years, married for seven. Even if this ship was sinking, I wanted to give us a decent ending. I touched the outline of the transplant cancellation form through my jacket pocket, trying to find the right words. “I went to the hospital today…” “Whatever it is, can it not wait until after dinner?” She cut me off with extreme impatience, her eyebrows tying into a knot. “Rick, I am busy. I do not have time to waste on you.” I froze in my chair, staring at the woman in front of me in pure disbelief. It felt like a handful of dry straw was shoved down my throat, scraping away my voice. Waste time. I said those exact words to her many years ago. Back then, Krista chased me relentlessly. The library, frat parties, the football bleachers, she was everywhere. Out of sheer exhaustion, I rejected the coffee she offered me for the hundredth time. “I really am not looking for a relationship right now. Stop wasting your time on me.” “How is this a waste of time?” Eighteen-year-old Krista smiled, her eyes curving like crescents, filled to the brim with my reflection. “Just breathing the same city air as you, walking down the same streets, feels like a blessing. Even if you are rejecting me right now, just hearing your voice makes me feel like the luckiest person in the world.” My heart pounded like a drum back then, my face burning hot. But now, looking at the freezing face in front of me, I felt a chilling cold seep into my bones. Since when did she consider sparing me a single sentence a waste of her life? “Professor, since your husband did not even buy groceries, let us forget about the ribs.” Jace stepped up with a cheeky grin, placing his hand naturally on the small of Krista’s back to guide her toward the kitchen. “I was craving those mushroom cheese ravioli you made last time anyway!” The frost on Krista’s face melted instantly, a gentle smile appearing on her lips. She tied on her apron and turned to affectionately ruffle the boy’s hair. “Lucky you. I purposely made extra and froze them last time, just for you.” “You are the best, Professor!” They walked past me laughing and chatting, treating me like thin air. I kept my head down, a bitter sneer forming on my lips. So, that dinner that almost sent me to the ER last week was not some romantic whim. What I ate was just the rejected test batch meant for someone else. I took a deep breath, forcing the violent storm of emotions down. Just to keep the last shred of my dignity, I refused to scream and tear her apart in front of this outsider. I refused to look pathetic. Outside the kitchen doors, they ate their steaming ravioli and talked about absolute nonsense. They went from data models to the recent storms, to the ski season in the Alps and autumn in Aspen. The famously strict and cold Professor Krista was a chatterbox in front of Jace, responding to his every word. Inside the living room, I sat in dead silence, feeling my once burning heart freeze solid piece by piece. It was not until the streetlights flickered on outside that Krista pushed open the bedroom door. She casually tossed a brown paper takeout bag onto my nightstand. “You are anemic lately. You need to eat something.” The bag contained clam chowder from my favorite spot. Years ago, before they even offered delivery, Krista would brave the freezing morning wind to stand in line just to get it for me. “What is your problem today? Why were you so aggressive with Jace?” “Aggressive?” I forced a smile and looked straight into her eyes. “He is into you. Do not tell me you are blind enough to miss that.” “You brought him into our private home, let him wear my clothes, and let him spray alcohol in my face. You know damn well mushrooms could kill me, yet you stocked our freezer full of them just for him!” “Shut your mouth!” Krista’s face darkened instantly. Her brows furrowed deeply, and she looked down at me with sheer contempt. “Jace is the most talented student in my entire program! What is wrong with him coming over for a casual meal? Can you stop judging people with your pathetic, narrow mind?” “He has ambition. He has real goals. He is not from the same world as a guy like you who just stays home and has zero career drive.” Her words were like a bucket of ice water poured straight over my head. I stared at her, my muscles trembling uncontrollably. “Krista, you literally got on your knees and begged me to quit my job!” Back then, she cried about how much it hurt to see me work late, complaining we never had time together. She swore she would build her career while I managed the home. Like an idiot, I believed her. Because I loved her, because I trusted her completely, I killed my own career and swallowed my pride to support her ambitions. Now, that was the very weapon she used against me? Krista looked at my red rimmed eyes, fell silent for a moment, and let out an annoyed sigh. “Fine. I was too harsh.” “Your health is bad anyway, stop getting so worked up.” She turned toward the door. “It is pouring outside. I need to drive Jace home. Whatever nonsense you want to talk about, save it for when I get back.” I did not try to stop her. I knew I could not. Right then, my phone lit up. A text from Luke. [The divorce papers are drawn up by the best lawyers in town. Brother, I booked us two first-class tickets to Europe. Come out and get some fresh air.] Without a second of hesitation, my fingers typed a single letter: [K.] I sat on the living room sofa the entire night, waiting for her to come back so we could talk about the divorce. But I called dozens of times, and every single one went straight to voicemail. It was not until seven the next morning that the front door was pushed open. Seeing me on the couch, a flash of undeniable guilt crossed Krista’s eyes. “Rick, did you not sleep at all?” “The rain was brutal last night, and Jace sprained his ankle on the steps. I was too worried, so I took him to the ER and stayed with him for the night.” “Krista…” After staying up all night, my voice sounded like sandpaper. “Taking ten seconds to send a text, is that too hard? Picking up one phone call, is that too hard?” “Listening to me finish a sentence, is it really that damn hard?” “Sorry.” She stood in the entryway, unusually silent for a few seconds. “My phone died last night. Plus, I assumed you were already asleep.” “You probably have not eaten breakfast yet. I will make you something.” She practically fled into the kitchen. After some clattering, she surprisingly whipped up a lavish spread of hot food. Krista was terrible at basic life skills, but she was naturally gifted in the kitchen. I had chronic stomach issues, and a few years ago, she actually read through dozens of nutritional cookbooks just to make me healing meals every day. But right as the last pot of hot soup was done, she unhesitatingly packed all the hot food into a thermal lunchbox. Then she turned around and slid a plate of thick blueberry toast across the counter to me. “Rick, just make do with this for now.” “I have to rush back to the hospital to bring Jace some hot food. Do me a favor and clean up the pots and pans.” The rich purple color on that toast stung my eyes like a needle. She forgot entirely. I absolutely despised blueberries. Looking at her rushing toward the door, a cold, mocking laugh escaped my lips. “You really go above and beyond for this precious student of yours.” “Rick, what exactly are you implying now?” She rarely lost her temper at me like this, narrowing her eyes in warning. “I treat all my students equally. If anyone in my lab got sick today, I would go take care of them!” “Really?” I looked up slowly, meeting her gaze without backing down. “Would you drink after your other students without flinching? Where did your crippling germaphobia go, Krista?” “I have no idea what nonsense you are talking about.” A brief look of being caught flashed across her face. She grabbed the lunchbox and tried to walk past me. I grabbed her wrist tight and shoved yesterday’s medical report right into her palm. “You do not have to understand. But you know how to read.” I scraped the blueberry toast straight into the trash can in front of her. By the time I turned around, the front door was already shut. That paper, the one concerning her very life, was crumpled into a ball and lying at the bottom of the wastebasket by the door. I stood frozen for a long time. It felt like an organ had been violently carved out of my chest, leaving a gaping, freezing hole. But strangely, I could not squeeze out a single tear. Eventually, I walked back to the guest room and quietly started packing my suitcase. Not long after, a courier dropped off the divorce papers Luke had prepared. I skimmed through the asset division. It was perfectly fair. No issues. Now, all I had to do was wait for her to come home, sign on the dotted line, and this absurd marriage would finally be over. At nine o’clock that night, the doorbell rang like a death knell. I ripped the door open. Jace stood there, panting heavily, practically carrying a blackout-drunk Krista in his arms. “At the lab project celebration tonight, the Professor took a bunch of heavy shots to protect me. I did not realize she was such a lightweight, yet she still tried so hard to look out for me.” I pressed my lips into a hard line and instinctively reached out to take my wife. Jace dodged my hands entirely. Walking in like he owned the place, he carried Krista into the master bedroom and laid her down. Then he walked back out, leaning against the doorframe, a venomous, mocking smirk on his face. “Old man, do not blame me for not letting you touch her. I know for a fact she thinks you are dirty.” “She is drunk now, sure, but even when she is sober, she probably gags at the thought of you touching her. Why else would you be married for seven years without a single kid?” He suddenly leaned in, lowering his voice like a snake. “After all, the Professor told me herself. Every time you get close, all she can think about is that night you were pinned down in the dirt by those street girls, having your clothes ripped off.” “She said you make her physically sick.” A deafening ring exploded in my ears. The string that had been pulled taut for nine years finally snapped. Years ago, Krista’s deadbeat dad owed a massive debt to some ruthless loan sharks. To help her pay it off, I sang at an underground bar downtown every single night. One early morning after my shift, I was targeted by a local girl gang. They dragged me into an alley, beat me half to death with baseball bats, and used box cutters to shred my clothes, humiliating me in every way possible. Krista rushed in like a madwoman with an iron pipe, smashing the leader’s head open. Afterward, she held me tightly in her arms, crying so hard she could barely breathe. Her hands were shaking so violently she could not even cup my face. “Rick, this is my fault. I swear to God, I will never let anyone hurt you again!” That was the darkest nightmare of my life at nineteen. That was the scar I had fiercely protected for eight years. And now, Krista had turned my deepest trauma into gossip, a joke to share with her little boy toy! I snapped my head up, my eyes bloodshot. “What the hell did you just say?” “I said, the Professor thinks you are a dirty…” He did not get to finish that word. My fist smashed violently into his jaw, crushing the syllables against his teeth. I threw my entire body weight into that punch. Jace screamed, flying backward like a broken doll. His forehead slammed hard against the edge of the glass coffee table, and blood immediately poured down his brow. He wiped the blood from his mouth, his face turning purple with rage and humiliation. “Screw you! Are you out of your damn mind?!” He lunged at me like a rabid dog. I raised my leg and kicked him square in the stomach, sending him to the floor. I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him out the front door like a dead dog. “Get out! Get the hell out of my house right now!” The door slammed shut with a thunderous crash, completely sealing that disgusting piece of trash outside. Drained of every ounce of strength, I slid down the cold door panel to the floor, cold sweat soaking my back. In the dead silence of the house, Krista’s slurred, drunken mumbles drifted from the bedroom. “Rick…” If it were the past, I would have swallowed my exhaustion, brought her a warm towel, wiped her face, and changed her into pajamas. But tonight, I just stood by the bed, staring down at her for a long, long time. Finally, I slid the wedding band off my ring finger. I took hers off the vanity. I threw them both into the pitch-black trash can. Nine years. We were once the college sweethearts everyone envied. Now, we had reached a dead end where just looking at each other caused nausea. I slept in the guest room. The next morning, I was violently yanked out of bed by Krista. She stared down at me, her eyes filled with suffocating disappointment. “Rick, did you put your hands on Jace last night?” The sharp pain in my wrist snapped me fully awake. I forcefully shook her hand off. “What, seeing your precious student bruised up breaks your heart?” “His parents called the cops! The university dean is involved now! You are going to get dressed right this second, go to the campus, and bow your head to apologize!” Krista’s eyes were red with frantic anger. She hurled a jacket right at my face. Rubbing my red wrist, I let out a harsh laugh. “Oh, he has parents? The way he clings to you for everything, I thought he was an orphan.” “Rick!” She pointed a finger right at my nose, her eyes wide with fury at having her boundaries crossed. “How can you say something so venomous? When did you become such an unreasonable monster?” “I do not care what your excuse is, you are coming to apologize!” She dragged me out to her car like a prisoner and sped all the way to the university’s administration building. In the dean’s office, Jace sat on the couch with his head down, playing the perfect victim. A middle-aged man and woman sat on either side of him, screaming furiously at the department head. “My son is here at an Ivy League institution to do research! Now he is sitting here with a mild concussion! You people better give us an explanation right now!” “Professor!” Seeing Krista walk in, Jace acted like his savior had arrived. He jumped up, pointing at his bruised jaw to tattle. “I was just trying to be a good person and bring you home safely last night, but your husband falsely accused me of coming onto you. He attacked me like a psychopath. My head is killing me…” The moment his mother saw me, she shot up from the couch, her shrill voice piercing my eardrums. “So you are the uneducated piece of trash who put hands on my son! You are going to pay us fifty grand in damages today, or I swear I will see you behind bars!” I cast a dead, cold look at these clowns. I pulled out my phone and opened a screenshot. It was a photo Jace had posted on his stories at 2 AM and deleted seconds later. Unfortunately for him, I caught it. The background was the ER from the night before. Krista was asleep by his hospital bed, and he was leaning in, kissing her cheek. I zoomed in on the photo and shoved the screen right into his parents’ faces. “Sure, I will pay you. But first, I want to ask how you raised your kid.” “What kind of cheap trash secretly hooks up with his married professor while getting his master’s degree?” Jace and his father quickly exchanged a panicked glance. The next second, the middle-aged man charged at me like a raging bull, landing a heavy punch right on my jaw. “You worthless loser who got humiliated by a bunch of street girls dare to talk about my son? Too bad they did not just beat you to death in that alleyway!” The room spun violently. I staggered and collapsed, the back of my head cracking hard against the marble floor. The pain was so sharp I could not even scream. It took a long moment for my vision to focus again. I saw several twisted, ugly faces looking down at me. Krista stood nearby. A flash of worry did cross her eyes, but her body remained firmly planted in front of Jace and his father, protecting them. I forced myself up, clenching my fists, ready to rush the man and pay that punch back in full. But a pair of arms locked around my waist from behind. Krista held me back with all her strength. “Rick, calm the hell down! No matter what, you threw the first punch last night!” “Krista, let go of me!” My eyes were bloodshot. The years of suppressed betrayal and rage erupted from my chest like a volcano. Why? Why did everyone think they had the right to weaponize my deepest scars? Why! “Are you blind, Krista? Did you not see him hit me just now?” “Why did you tell them about that night? He used it to mock me to my face, are you deaf?!” My desperate, broken roar echoed down the hallway. College students walking between classes stopped and started peeking through the doors. Clearly feeling embarrassed, Krista pushed me out into the stairwell. “Go home and cool off. I have to take Jace to get a brain scan.” She turned around, shielding Jace as they tried to push through the gathering crowd. Just as we brushed past each other, the older man suddenly turned around, raised his hand, and shoved me hard by the shoulder. I lost my balance and tumbled down the steep staircase. My back slammed against the concrete steps, the impact feeling like it shattered my spine. But Krista merely looked over her shoulder, frowned in annoyance, and quickly looked away. I knew that look all too well. I was an embarrassment to her. A couple of male students finally stepped in and helped me up. I muttered a quiet thanks, gritted my teeth through the pain, and limped straight into Krista’s spacious private office. My phone buzzed. A flight notification popped up: [Boarding in 6 hours.] I reached into my inner jacket pocket, pulled out the signed divorce agreement, and laid it perfectly flat right in the center of her desk. I held up my phone, snapped a picture, and hit send. [I signed it. Krista, let us get a divorce.]

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1 After our eighteenth failed attempt at divorce, Mike suddenly stopped bringing it up altogether. It was a stark contrast to how things had been before. Every single attempt prior had ended in absolute chaos. I had slit my wrists, stood on the ledge of our high-rise, and plastered photos of him and his personal assistant all over the corporate lobby. At a press conference, I had publicly torn Isla’s clothes off, leaving her with severe post-traumatic stress disorder. He should have loathed me. Yet, the word “divorce” never crossed his lips again. He came home right on the dot every night, handed over his phone, and checked in every single hour. Even on business trips, we were on a round-the-clock video call. But the unease in my chest never faded. Day after day, I pestered him, demanding to know why he had given up on the divorce. He would only counter with a question: “Am I not doing enough?” It was good. Too good to be real. It wasn’t until he caught me tailing him yet again that the exhaustion in his eyes spilled over, and he finally told me the truth. “I got a phone call from myself, ten years in the future,” he whispered. “He told me that if I divorced you, I’d regret it.” I stood there, stunned. “And you actually believed that?” “He said you set a fire and burned Isla alive.” He looked up, his eyes harboring a dark, bottomless abyss of despair. “You’re too unhinged, Vivian. I can’t take that risk. I can’t afford to. We’re staying together. This is our life now.” That one sentence, “This is our life now,” pinned me to the floor like a pathetic clown. He hadn’t said a word about wanting to leave, yet every syllable dripped with pure, unadulterated hatred. Those dead eyes were a blade driven straight through my ribs. It wasn’t regret. It wasn’t an awakening. It was sheer terror and begrudging defeat. But this miserable, drag-out existence? Suddenly, I was done playing my part in it. Seeing me frozen, he didn’t try to soothe me as he once would have. He calmly slipped on his coat, masking his brief slip of composure, and systematically went through his schedule. “I will arrive at the office at two. The meeting starts at three and will run for two hours.” He paused halfway to the door, turning back. “By the way, I won’t be able to answer any calls or video chats during that time. If you don’t believe me, you can wait by the entrance.” Each word was measured, cold, and distant. Before I could even process it, the car door slammed shut. I watched his car shrink into the distance, a perfect metaphor for the chasm widening between us. The tears finally spilled over. The day I caught Mike and Isla together, I lost my mind. I took to scrubbing his skin raw with disinfectant and scanning him with UV lights. If I found a single stray hair, I would hysterically demand DNA tests for everyone in the office. He pleaded, claiming they had been drugged, showing me security footage and blood reports, but my mind refused to accept his betrayal. Then came the day he first slid the divorce papers across the table. “Vivian, I’ll give you eighty percent of my assets. Let’s just end this. I’m so exhausted.” That night was the first time I climbed onto the roof ledge. He had dragged me back, wild with terror, screaming in absolute ruin. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! Torture me, destroy me, do whatever you want to me, just don’t hurt yourself! I can’t survive without you!” But why? Why was the man who claimed he couldn’t live without me now begging, time and time again, for me to let him go so he could be with Isla? The Seattle rain began to fall. I held an umbrella in my hand but forgot to open it. I suppose Mike had spoiled me over the last decade. I was so used to him driving me everywhere, holding the umbrella over my head, wiping my mouth at dinner. Even on crowded pedestrian streets, he had a way of pulling favors to park right at the storefronts I wanted to visit. And now, it was all gone in an instant. It felt as if a physical chunk of my heart had been carved out, leaving a hollow space for the icy wind to whistle through. I couldn’t even tell if the moisture on my face was rain or my own tears. Back at the house, a fever took hold of me. In my delirious haze, Mike was right there, wiping my burning skin with warm water and checking my temperature every fifteen minutes. When his assistant called to urge him to attend a meeting, he roared into the phone, telling them to go to hell. He was always this frantic whenever I fell ill. His hand wrapping mine was incredibly warm, yet my body wouldn’t stop shaking. The phone kept ringing, and he refused to answer. But the noise was too loud, eventually dragging me back to consciousness. The room was cold and empty. There was no one beside me. It was my own phone buzzing on the nightstand. Mike was never there. I swallowed the metallic taste rising in my throat and answered. “Mrs. Sinclair, Mr. Sinclair didn’t show up at the office today,” my private investigator reported. I froze. “He returned briefly, then headed straight to Oakwood Sanctuary. He’s been inside for over two hours now.” A wave of nausea hit me. Oakwood Sanctuary was the private care facility where Isla was staying. Mike’s parting words echoed in my ears: If you don’t believe me, wait by the entrance. How could he be so sure I wouldn’t show up? He said those words every single time he gave me his schedule. I had never believed him before, always choosing to wait. This was the one time I chose to trust him, and I was wrong again. I checked the time: six in the evening. Usually, he was home by five-thirty. Since he wasn’t coming back, I would go to him. In the past, every time I cornered him, he would shove the divorce papers in my face. This time, I had already signed them. Before I could even reach Isla’s room, a dozen bodyguards swarmed me, instantly on high alert. “Mrs. Sinclair, Mr. Sinclair gave strict orders. You are not allowed near Miss Isla.” Through the human wall, I caught sight of the door. A sticker of Mike and Isla, styled as cartoon puppies, was framed inside a pink heart. Below it, in playful font, were the words: Gav & Isla’s Hideaway. I forced a cold, empty laugh. “Childish.” I had once begged Mike to take those silly photobooth pictures with me. He had always dismissed it, saying a corporate CEO couldn’t indulge in such nonsense. It turned out he could; he just couldn’t do it with me. Clutching my aching chest, I took a deep breath. “Get out of my way. You know what I’m capable of when I lose my mind.” With that, I pulled a small utility knife from my bag. I only meant to scare them. But in the next second, a bodyguard lunged forward, slamming me onto the hard floor. The others pinned my limbs down, trapping me completely. “Apologies, ma’am, but Mr. Sinclair was very clear. At the first sign of an episode, we are to contain you immediately.” Another guard spoke rapidly into his radio. “Sir, your wife is here. She has a knife…” Before he could finish, Mike’s frantic voice cut through the static, sharp and panicked. “Then pin her down! Do it now! What if she hurts Isla?!” My struggles ceased instantly. “She is contained. Should we transport her back to the estate or lock her up here?” The radio went quiet for two agonizing seconds. Finally, a heavy sigh crackled through. “Forget it. Bring her in.” The knife had been wrestled from my grip, but in the scuffle, the blade had sliced my wrist. As they escorted me into the room, blood dripped onto the floor. I bit my lower lip, fighting back the tears. But the moment the door swung open, I froze. The evening sun filtered through sheer curtains, bathing a rocking chair on the balcony in warmth. Beside it stood a small side table holding a cup of steaming coffee and an open book. In the corner, a vintage record player spun a soft jazz record, Mike’s favorite. This wasn’t a sterile hospital room; it was a home. Specifically, it was the exact home I had designed. Before our wedding, I had hand-drawn every detail, blending our tastes perfectly. But Mike had told me he didn’t want me stressing over construction, hiring a design firm instead to build our mansion in an entirely different style. Now, the dream home I had envisioned stood right before me, serving as a sanctuary for him and another woman. “You’re here,” Mike’s voice drifted from behind me. I turned, my face pale. Before I could mask my shock, he spoke again. “Isla always loved this design, so I had it recreated for her. You don’t mind, do you?” I stared at him in disbelief. “What do you think, Mike?” He nodded slowly. “Then tear it apart, Vivian. If it makes you happy, destroy it.” He looked at my bleeding wrist, showing nothing but a flicker of disgust. “I’m used to your theatrics, and so is Isla.” He looked toward the window, his tone so calm it was as if he were merely remarking on the weather. “Look, Vivian, a rainbow.” I followed his gaze. The rain had cleared, leaving a beautiful arch across the sky. But the storm raging inside me felt like it would never end. “Gav, sweetie, come play It Takes Two with me…” Isla’s voice abruptly cut off as she noticed me. The controller slipped from her fingers, clattering onto the floor. She grabbed her head, screaming hysterically. “No! Don’t strip me! Don’t kill my baby! I’m a home-wrecker! I’m a mistress! I’m sorry, please… I won’t do it again!” Mike rushed over, pulling her tightly into his arms. His eyes welled with protective rage. “Shh, it’s okay. Don’t be afraid. I’m right here. No one will ever hurt you again.” As he muttered those soothing words, his eyes locked onto mine, burning with unmasked hatred. A laugh bubbled up from my throat, dry and hollow, until tears streamed down my face. For a split second, I wanted to lung forward, drag Isla to the balcony, and throw us both over the edge. But my remaining sanity whispered that they weren’t worth my life. I dug my fingernails into my palms, fighting the urge to drag her down with me. I sneered, “Cut the act, Isla.” She flinched, burying her face deeper into Mike’s chest. “I… I don’t know what you mean.” I let out a harsh laugh. “PTSD doesn’t look like that.” Mike rose, stepping in front of her like a shield. “Enough! If you want to lash out, do it to me. Stop acting like you know everything, and don’t you dare slander her.” But I did know. I had lived with the disease for over a decade, ever since the day I watched my mother die. Whenever the memory of her blood pooling on the pavement flashed in my mind, I would spiral into vomiting, sobbing, and self-harm. I had never told a soul that my mother took her own life because my father had loved someone else. I had sworn I would never step into the trap of marriage. Yet Mike had staked his entire corporate future and the rest of his life to promise me he would never betray me. I believed I wouldn’t end up like my mother. But in the end, I was walking the exact same path: the screaming, the madness, the self-destruction. I was done with it. I reached into my bag to retrieve the signed divorce papers. Mike’s expression morphed into pure terror. “What are you doing?! Grab her!” Before my hand could leave my bag, the guards slammed me back onto the cold marble floor. Mike marched over and kicked my bag away, the force of the blow vibrating through my hands. “As long as I draw breath, you will never lay a finger on her!” I stared up at his face, a messy mix of terror and fury. I recalled a night when he slipped out of bed while I pretended to sleep. Suspecting he was sneaking off to see Isla, I crept after him, only to overhear him asking the receiver if the Vivian of ten years later would still be this unhinged, and if keeping himself alive was the only way to shield Isla. I hadn’t understood those hushed words then. Now, it all clicked. That was the mysterious call from his future self. He was utterly terrified of me. No matter what I did, he would assume it was a plot to harm Isla. My cheek pressed against the freezing marble, as cold and dead as my heart. I let out a soft, tired laugh. “The papers are in my bag, Mike. I already signed them.” Mike eyed me suspiciously before rummaging through my bag. He pulled out the documents, glanced at my signature, and immediately tore them into shreds. “I told you! I am not divorcing you!” I looked at him calmly. “Just because of that phone call?” Isla tugged gently at his jacket sleeve. “What phone call, Gav?” “It’s nothing,” he muttered. “But you promised to give me a home,” she whimpered. Mike’s fists clenched, his face flushing crimson. “Don’t ask questions. Just know I’m doing this for your own good.” Isla’s eyes welled with tears. Gently wiping them away, he whispered, “I will give you everything, Isla. Everything but the title of my wife.” Those words were meant for me, too. He would give her everything, while keeping me locked in a gilded cage of a hollow marriage. It was all so incredibly pathetic. “Just sign the papers, Mike. I’m not going to burn her alive,” I said quietly. “That phone call? I hired someone to make it with a voice-modulator.” Mike went rigid, his eyes widening in pure shock. “You’re lying!” “Of course it’s a lie,” I muttered, turning my head away. “I was terrified you’d actually leave me, so I fabricated the whole thing.” He hesitated, his brow furrowing. “But the caller knew everything about my childhood. Things only I would know.” I scoffed softly. “I’ve known you for a decade, Mike. I know your secrets. I knew exactly how to play you.” Silence descended upon the room. He stared at me, his gaze intense and searching, trying to decipher my mind. I pressed my forehead against the cold floor, hiding the tremor in my lips. It was the first lie I had ever told him since the day we met. Perhaps there really had been a call from the future. Perhaps he truly would regret everything ten years down the line. But I didn’t care anymore. I was too tired. I took a deep breath, raised my head, and masked my features with a look of pure indifference. “Well? Are we signing or not? This is your one and only chance.” Slap! Mike’s palm struck my cheek, leaving a stinging heat in its wake. “You can play your hysterical games all you want, but this crosses the line,” he snarled. “You are completely out of your mind, Vivian!” He waved his assistant over. “Print a new set of divorce papers. Now!” I thought my heart had gone numb, but the empty space in my chest still throbbed with a cold, sharp ache. The papers were brought in minutes later. He scrawled his name across the bottom and flung the sheets at my face. “You’ll get half the estate. I won’t pinch a single penny. But remember this, Vivian: I never want to see your face again.” At his command, the guards finally released me. I scrambled up from the floor, gathered the sheets of paper, and walked out without looking back. On the drive back, the skies opened up. The pouring rain soaked me to the bone, yet my mind had never felt clearer. Suddenly, my phone vibrated. It was an unknown number. “Vivian, listen to me,” a voice rasped. It sounded exactly like mine, but older, tired. “I am you, ten years from now. You must divorce Mike. But please, don’t do anything stupid. Don’t hurt yourself, and whatever you do, don’t start a fire. If you do, he will make your life a living hell forever.” I remained quiet for a moment. “It’s done,” I whispered. “I’ve signed the papers. And I won’t hurt myself.” The voice on the other end let out a long, ragged sigh of relief. “Thank God. Go live your life, Vivian. Be happy.” The line went dead. I stared at the screen and nodded. Two phone calls from ten years in the future, warning of two entirely different fates. I had no desire to unravel the mystery of which was real. I was simply done living in fear. Back at the estate, I packed light. A few casual clothes, my passport, and some essential documents. That was all I had to show for a decade of marriage. The painted portrait of the two of us on the nightstand stood out like an eyesore. Mike had always claimed he hated cameras, which was why we didn’t have a single wedding photo. Yet, in Isla’s sanctuary, every corner was decorated with snapshots of them: surfing on sunny beaches, enjoying the snow under a winter sunset. They had explored the world together while I was trapped in this dark house. In that portrait, we looked like two fictional characters, standing side-by-side but entirely detached. I shattered the glass frame, tore the canvas right down the middle, and claimed only my half. At the airport, my phone began to buzz. Mike’s name flashed on the screen. I declined it. He called again. I declined it again. Then, the messages started flooding in. I never told you how I got the scar on the bottom of my foot! That phone call was real, wasn’t it? You lied to me. You’ve never lied to me before! Vivian! Where the hell are you?! I powered down my phone and buckled my seatbelt. An hour ago, I had made a call to my father. Right now, his private jet was carrying me far away, heading toward a city where the sun never stopped shining.

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