Author: Momo Chan

“I’m going on a business trip for a month. Could you feed my cat at my place? Oh, and the mango juice in the fridge is about to expire.” It was two in the morning, and the vibration of my phone jolted me awake. I picked up my phone and saw it was a message from my best friend. The next second, all my sleepiness vanished. A cold sweat broke out. First, she’s a freelancer. “Business trips” aren’t really her thing. Second, she doesn’t own a cat. Third, she’s allergic to mangoes. “Aubrey, I’m going on a business trip for a month. Could you feed my cat at my place? Oh, and the mango juice in the fridge is about to expire.” It was two in the morning, and the vibration of my phone jolted me awake. I grabbed the phone from my nightstand. It was a message from my best friend, Chloe. I’m a light sleeper. No exaggeration, a needle dropping on the floor at night would wake me up instantly. Chloe knew this, which was why she never messaged me in the middle of the night. The next second, a realization hit me. All my sleepiness vanished, replaced by a cold sweat. Chloe and I had been friends for over a decade. She was my closest friend, and no one knew her better than me. First, she’s a freelancer. “Business trips” aren’t really her thing. Second, she doesn’t own a cat. Third, she’s allergic to mangoes. A while ago, Chloe and I watched a thriller about the safety of women living alone. There was a scene where two best friends agreed on a secret code word to alert each other if they were in danger. “Aubrey, if I ever send you a weird message, you *have* to come save me.” My heart pounded with panic. My first instinct was to call Chloe. But then it hit me. If she was using these bizarre messages to hint at something, instead of just telling me what was going on, it could only mean one thing: the attacker was right there, watching her every move. It was two-thirty in the morning. Outside, the power seemed to be out; everything was pitch black. In the darkness, it felt like countless eyes were secretly watching me. My heart hammered against my ribs, the rapid thumping echoing clearly in my ears, as if it would burst out of my chest. I quickly pulled out my medication from the drawer and dry-swallowed two pills. It took a while for me to calm down. Once I had my composure, I called Asher first, then the police. Asher is my boyfriend. He’s incredibly smart and tall. Whether it was facing the police or going to find Chloe, having him by my side always made me feel safer. The moment I saw Asher, I threw myself into his arms and started crying, completely ungracefully. “Don’t be scared, Aubrey. I’m here. No one’s going to hurt you anymore,” Asher whispered, gently patting my back. Breathing in his subtle scent, my fear slowly dissipated. Thank goodness, I still had Asher. About five minutes later, the police arrived. I sat on the sofa, listening to Asher talk to them. “Aubrey Jiang?” a slightly surprised voice from the police rang out. I finally looked up, toward the doorway, and saw the familiar face of the lead officer. I was surprised too. It was Devin. Funny enough, Devin and I were old acquaintances. We were middle school classmates. If you really went back, he was even my first love. However, the way we broke up was quite brutal, something I’ve never forgotten to this day. Back then, we were young and naive. That kind of childish, pretend-play romance wasn’t meant to be serious. Still, seeing Devin in this situation made me feel strangely awkward. Devin, however, was professional. He had no intention of reminiscing. He stated matter-of-factly, “We understand the situation. We’re heading to Chloe’s place now.” “I’m coming with you,” I said, mustering my courage. Devin shot me a disapproving glance, as if he thought I’d just be in the way. Asher also tried to persuade me, “I know you’re worried about Chloe, but it’s better to let the police handle this.” I bit my lip, stubbornly insisting, “Chloe is my best friend. I have to see her safe with my own eyes to rest easy. Plus, I have her house key. I can help.” Seeing my persistence, Asher and Devin had no choice but to compromise. They knew how stubborn I was, that I’d always stick to something once I’d made up my mind. Left with no other option, Devin brought Asher and me along.

As an heiress, Chloe lived in a luxury townhouse with top-notch security. Devin immediately sent his team to check the surveillance footage, while he, Asher, and I headed straight for Chloe’s private residence. The moment we reached the door, a strong metallic smell of blood hit us. I shivered, a chilling premonition gripping me. My breathing became shallow. I reached into my bag for the key, but the more nervous I got, the less I could do anything right. The key, which was usually in the outer pocket of my backpack, was nowhere to be found. As if sensing my fear, Asher gently wrapped his arms around me from behind, softly reassuring me, “Aubrey, don’t be scared. I’m here.” I took a few deep breaths, forcing myself to stay calm, and finally found the key, handing it to Devin. Devin shot me an annoyed look, probably thinking I was too slow. Without a word, he turned and unlocked the door. Chloe’s house was dark. The pungent, sickening smell in the air made it hard for me to breathe. I stared at the closed door, an inexplicable dread filling me, as if a flesh-eating monster would leap out of that dark doorway any second. I clung tightly to Asher’s arm, as if it could bring me some peace. The door opened. Devin went in first, fumbling to switch on the living room light. Still reeling, I looked at the center of the living room. This scene, I will never forget. Chloe was dead. In her own living room, in a terribly gruesome state. She was kneeling, crucified, her face slashed beyond recognition, and her body stabbed countless times. Blood was everywhere. I screamed, terrified, and almost collapsed. Thankfully, Asher caught me in time and pulled out the pills he always carried, handing them to me. After taking the medication, I felt a little better, but I was still sobbing uncontrollably. “It’s all my fault. I came too late. If only I had come sooner.” Devin stood a short distance away, glaring at me irritably. “The killer is extremely brutal. If you had come sooner, there’d only be one more body.” I flinched. Devin’s words were as cutting as ever. Still, good to know he hadn’t changed. The police quickly secured the scene, taping it off. The officer who went to check the surveillance footage came back empty-handed. “The surrounding cameras were destroyed.” I sat blankly on the steps outside the door, a wave of numbness washing over me. My best friend, brutally murdered in her own home. It was hard for anyone to accept. Just as I was lost in thought, a fluffy head suddenly appeared in front of my face, scaring the living daylights out of me. Thankfully, Asher was still by my side and immediately pulled me into his arms. “Buddy! Back!” Devin called out sharply. That’s when I saw it clearly: it was a police dog. “Excuse me, Aubrey is afraid of dogs. Could you please keep your dog on a tighter leash?” I heard Asher’s displeased voice. Devin, holding the dog’s leash, shot me a thoughtful glance. I guessed he was probably wondering when I became afraid of dogs. After all, when we were dating back then, we even adopted a puppy together. But people change. As the person who reported the crime, Devin questioned me privately as standard procedure. “What was your relationship with the deceased, Chloe Chen?” “She was my best friend.” I thought, Devin should know the answer to that question without asking. The three of us were middle school classmates, and Chloe and I had been closest ever since then. More than just my best friend, she was my *only* friend.

My father was a compulsive gambler, always buried in debt. My mother… well, she ran a massage parlor in our town. You know, one of *those* places. The news spread like wildfire, and soon, the whole school knew. No one wanted anything to do with me, except Chloe. My entire adolescence, thanks to Chloe’s companionship, didn’t seem so bleak. She meant more to me than my own parents, with whom I had long since cut ties. “What was her job? Did she have any enemies?” “She was a food influencer. She rarely got into arguments with people. I honestly can’t imagine anyone hating her enough to kill her so brutally.” As I spoke, I started to choke up again, lowering my head and covering my face. “Did she have any romantic entanglements?” I racked my brain for a long time, then shook my head blankly. “I don’t know. I didn’t really pry into her love life.” “Weren’t you best friends?” Devin narrowed his eyes slightly. I felt a little awkward. “Even best friends don’t tell each other *everything*, do they?” Devin said nothing, then continued to ask, “What about you? What do you do for work now?” I paused, then answered truthfully, “I just quit my job recently. I’m currently unemployed.” “Why did you quit?” “Officer Devin, how are these questions relevant to Chloe’s death? Or are you implying *I’m* the killer?” I was angry, but Devin coldly continued, “Chloe died in her home. There were no signs of forced entry. The killer must have been someone Chloe knew, someone she let in, or someone who had her house key.” “You reported receiving a strange message from Chloe, but we haven’t found Chloe’s phone at the scene.” When he put it that way, I understood perfectly: he was genuinely suspicious of me. I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping me. “So you think I, someone with no stable job or income, killed my best friend out of jealousy because she lived a better life than me?” “Answer my question.” His voice was devoid of warmth. I caved. “Fine. I quit my job because I suffer from severe anxiety. It makes it impossible for me to live and work normally.” I kept my head down, not wanting to see pity or sympathy in his eyes. Honestly, his distrust disappointed me. But then again, when we were together all those years ago, he never really believed in me with that much conviction either. To him, I was, at best, a familiar stranger. Why *should* he believe what I said? Devin stared intently at me, seemingly trying to read guilt or panic on my face. We sat in silence for a long time. Then, he suddenly pulled out an evidence bag and gently placed it on the table. “This phone, it’s yours, isn’t it?” It was an outdated, old phone. The screen was lit up, displaying my selfie. Given Chloe’s family wealth, she wouldn’t own a generic phone like this. Her phone had always been the latest model from a certain fruit company. I stared at the phone for a long time before nodding. “It’s mine.” “Can you explain why your phone was found at the crime scene?” Devin asked. That’s when I noticed the bloodstains on the back of the phone. I shook my head. “I have no idea. Honestly, I lost this phone three years ago. The one I’m using now was a gift from Chloe.” My expression must have been terrible. Otherwise, Devin wouldn’t have been staring at me with such a complex look. “Tell me, what happened?”

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To donate bone marrow to my husband’s *nominal* sister, I was forced to terminate the baby in my womb. After the surgery, my husband appeased his *nominal* sister with company shares, yet he trivialized my pain. “Don’t cause a scene here. It’s just one child; it’s not like she can’t have more.” His words were terrifyingly calm, as if what was lost was utterly insignificant. But that was the child I’d fought for with countless fertility treatments. The gown I’d poured my heart into designing was stolen, leaving me to wear a cheap dress. Chloe nestled in Julian’s arms, looking smug. “Sister-in-law, I liked this dress, so I took it. You wouldn’t look good in it anyway.” Watching them embrace, I couldn’t help but gag. This was the man who once knelt before my mother to marry me. Now, he wore the matching outfit I designed, yet held another woman. Finally, I dialed the number I thought I’d never have to call. The person on the other end chuckled, a joyful sound, as if a long-awaited treasure had finally returned. “Wait for me. Your car is already on its way.”

“Chloe, did you get this month’s company dividend?” Standing outside the CEO’s office, about to knock, I froze at the voices from within. Dividend? Chloe was merely Julian’s *nominal* sister, with no company shares. Why would she get a dividend? Then, Chloe’s delicate voice chimed in: “Julian, you gave me 30% of the company shares for my surgery. What did Sister-in-law get?” “If she got more than me, I won’t accept it!” “Aubrey? She merely had a fetus aborted. For you, that’s nothing.” Julian scoffed, his voice icy, as if it wasn’t even his child. *Merely had a fetus aborted?* The two in the CEO’s office had begun to pour out their hearts to each other, but I couldn’t hear anything anymore. The world just spun around me. My mind replayed Julian holding my waist, his expression incredibly forlorn as he said, “Aubrey, I want a child.” We’d been married for ten years, and for those words, I… I endured countless hormone shots, trying for seven years to finally conceive that child. The day we found out, he held me and cried tears of joy. But less than two months later, Chloe fell ill. She was diagnosed with leukemia and needed a bone marrow donor. After countless tests, only I was a match. For Chloe to have a successful surgery, Julian knelt before me. “Aubrey, I’m sorry to you and our child, but Chloe will die without your bone marrow!” This man who claimed to love me deeply, this man who smiled and said he could finally be a father. In the end, for his *nominal* sister, he demanded his wife personally sacrifice their hard-won child. His tears back then, compared to now, were nothing but a joke. I looked at the ceiling, a desperate smile on my face, tears silently falling. Gently stroking my flat stomach, I murmured, “My baby, ultimately, it’s mommy who failed you. I chose the wrong daddy for you.” When I came to my senses, sickening gasps and moans came from the CEO’s office. I morbidly listened to the entire exchange at the door, as if to sever the last shred of hope in my heart. Julian held Chloe, caressing her slightly swollen belly. “Chloe, we’ll have to be more careful from now on. The baby is getting bigger.” Chloe seemed shy, playfully complaining, “Why would you say something like that? What if someone hears us?” “I finally have a child again, of course I have to be careful.” Julian’s voice held boundless anticipation, just like he used to speak to me. “Julian, you sound like it’s your first time being a dad. Didn’t you have a child with Sister-in-law before?” Chloe’s voice carried a hint of confusion. Julian spoke as if it concerned someone utterly insignificant, his tone indifferent: “Her child wasn’t mine and yours. Besides, it was never born. Its greatest purpose was being aborted for you.” I couldn’t bear to listen anymore. I left the company in a daze. The heavens seemed to weep with me, unleashing a torrential downpour. I only heard the screech of tires, and a dark shadow enveloped me. *Bang!* I instantly plunged into darkness.

When I woke up again, all I saw was a stark white ceiling. The air was thick with the pungent smell of disinfectant. “Aubrey, are you okay! You’re finally awake! You’ve been unconscious for three days and three nights after the car accident!” Julian excitedly gripped my hand by the bedside. My mind slowly started to clear. I expressionlessly pulled my hand away. Julian froze for a few seconds. In that brief moment, a petite figure squeezed past the stunned Julian. “Sister-in-law! Your sudden car accident scared Julian and me terribly! Julian personally took care of you for three days!” Chloe looked worried, but her eyes clearly told me: *Why aren’t you dead yet?* I weakly pulled at the corners of my mouth. “Then I’m truly grateful for your devoted care.” As I spoke, my gaze fell directly on Chloe’s slightly swollen belly. Chloe realized her true intentions had been seen through, and being stared at so intently, she recoiled slightly. Julian disapproved of my tone. “Aubrey, why would you say that? We’re all family. Family doesn’t talk like strangers.” I forced myself to sit up, my body, aching from the crash, felt as if it would shatter. “You and I are legally family. What does that make Chloe?” My tone was devoid of emotion, simply stating a fact. But Julian instantly reacted like I’d struck a nerve, jumping up from his chair. The chair scraped against the floor with a shrill screech, but no one cared in that moment. Julian’s face darkened. He pointed at me, enunciating each word: “Aubrey, apologize to Chloe immediately!” “Chloe grew up with me since she was little. Her father was my dad’s old comrade; he entrusted her to our family before he died. Are you saying you don’t consider Chloe a sister at all?!” I looked at the two standing together, and it was like seeing Julian protect me in the past. Before, when I was cornered and bullied in the alley by people who looked down on me at school, Julian defended me with the same unwavering resolve. Now, I had gone from being by his side to standing against him. “Is that so? What’s Chloe’s last name? Or is she the one on your family record?” I looked coldly at the man before me, my eyes devoid of any past affection. Julian’s anger was thoroughly ignited. He roughly grabbed my hand, which was still hooked up to an IV. “No matter what Chloe’s last name is, or if she’s on my family record, she *is* my family!” A sharp pain shot through the back of my hand. I watched as blood rapidly flowed back into the IV line. The man who once couldn’t stand to see me get even a scratch. Now, he showed no reaction to my injury, his sole focus still on defending his beloved sister. My numb heart still involuntarily twinged with pain. Memories of love flickered within me, the contrast with the harsh reality made my eyes sting. I quietly watched the blood in my body mix little by little with the medication. Julian, getting no response, followed my gaze. Only then did he notice the blood flowing back, and a look of disgust flashed across his face. Julian abruptly flung my hand away. “My wife shouldn’t be someone as jealous as you. You stay here and reflect properly.” With that, he took Chloe and slammed the door shut as they left. I lay alone on the bed, silently weeping. My hand unconsciously went to my lower abdomen, where there was no longer any sign of life.

Julian, under the guise of wanting me to “reflect,” didn’t show up at all during my half-month hospital stay. Only Chloe visited, as if to declare her dominance. As if I were the one who had been taken in by their family; And she, the rightful lady of the house, came to visit me so naturally. She even “casually” exposed her baby bump, trying to provoke me into an irreversible decline. “Ms. Aubrey, your condition has mostly stabilized, but a few data points aren’t quite up to par.” “But don’t worry too much, as long as you regulate your mood, you’ll be fine. Is the lady who often visits you your sister? She really cares for you.” The doctor looked at the medical records in her hand, explaining my situation, clearly thinking Chloe and I were sisters. A crestfallen expression on my face, I closed my eyes and softly murmured, “With a sister like that, I probably won’t ever leave this hospital.” The doctor didn’t quite catch what I said and instinctively asked. I didn’t want to elaborate, so I perfunctorily sent the doctor away. Discharged, I returned home. Chloe looked at me sitting in a wheelchair. A resentful malice flashed in her eyes. “Sister-in-law, you’re really lucky, coming out of such a car accident in half a month like nothing happened.” I didn’t respond to her. I surveyed the small home I once considered our love nest, Julian’s and mine. Many of my things were gone, Replaced by items clearly in Chloe’s preferred style. “Oh, Sister-in-law, I’m so sorry, but while you were in the hospital, I was afraid Julian wouldn’t have anyone to take care of him, so I moved in. You’re not angry, are you?” There wasn’t an ounce of apology in Chloe’s words, only overflowing smugness. I sat there, silent. It was always like this, I don’t know when it started. Whenever it came down to a choice between me and Chloe, I was always the one cast aside. Just like that crucial charity gala. To save Julian from embarrassment, I poured immense effort into designing a matching gown. With all my love for Julian and the belief that we would soon have the fruit of our love. The dress created with such conviction; Chloe obtained it with a single pout directed at Julian. When the gala began, I couldn’t find my gown and cried in desperation. But Julian said, “How many times have I told you to keep your things safe? Now look, we’re going to be late because of you.” He seemed a little guilty, not daring to meet my tear-filled eyes. My tears smudged my delicate makeup: “I distinctly remember telling Mrs. Davies to take it to the dry cleaner and then put it personally in the deepest part of the wardrobe. I even saw her do it.” Seeing me frantically rummaging through the wardrobe like a madwoman, Julian, as if escaping something, flung out a frustrated accusation, saying he was going to attend with Chloe and I shouldn’t bother. When I finally got a hastily bought dress from Mrs. Davies, And arrived at the venue, only then did I find out where my original gown had gone. Chloe smugly held Julian’s arm, stroking the gown that was meant for me, Smiling, she said, “Sister-in-law, isn’t this dress beautiful? It’s Julian’s matching one.” “But Sister-in-law, how dare you come here wearing such a cheap dress? You’re totally embarrassing Julian.” Seeing the two glued together, I almost immediately leaned against the wall and started dry heaving, unable to control myself. Chloe immediately covered her mouth in disgust. “Julian, I think Sister-in-law’s not well. If she goes to the gala in this state…” Julian’s slight feeling of guilt vanished instantly. He ordered someone to “escort” me out. My tears fell like a broken string of pearls. I shook off the security guard who came to restrain me, looking utterly pathetic in the eyes of countless guests. Mocks and laughter filled my ears. My heart lost the ability to feel in that moment. “Julian, let’s get a divorce.”

The moment I spoke, everyone present fell silent. I numbly watched Julian’s expression turn utterly astonished, his eyes filled with panic. Julian was about to speak, but was immediately interrupted by a sob. “Sister-in-law, I didn’t mean to wear your dress by mistake! Please don’t be angry over such a small thing!” Chloe cried dramatically, feigning to take off the gown. Julian seemed to snap back to reality. “Aubrey, I’m so disappointed in you.” “It’s just a dress. Are you really that petty, making our family a laughingstock in front of everyone at an event like this?” As he spoke, he took off the matching suit jacket I had designed for him and draped it over the other woman. My heart twinged uncontrollably, like a thousand needles pricking me. Did he not see how I toiled tirelessly, like a mother nurturing a child, to create that design? Did he not see my ten fingers constantly pricked as I stitched every single thread? No, he saw it all. He just didn’t care. “Julian, whose family *are* you anyway?” I looked at Julian, deeply hurt, my voice tinged with rare accusation. Julian, as if exposed, grew enraged. “Aubrey, I think you’ve lost your mind. Someone take her away to calm down!” The surrounding scorn and ridicule intensified, but I couldn’t hear it anymore. My body was ice cold, all strength drained from me. Taken away by security again, this time I didn’t resist. After that gala ended, Chloe provocatively sent the two utterly ruined outfits back to me. Looking at the two garments, almost unrecognizable from their original form, my heart felt just as broken. Crying all night, clutching the clothes, my heart gradually grew numb. But not long after, good news came from my belly. The child we had waited for so many years had finally arrived. Julian held my waist, his ear pressed against my still-flat belly. “Aubrey, after all these years, we finally have our child!” I had never seen him so happy. “Julian, with this child, I don’t care how much hardship or suffering I’ve endured before.” We embraced, our faces filled with joyful smiles. I felt like I was in heaven at that moment. But less than four months later, it became hell. Julian, his face filled with urgency, knelt before me: “Aubrey! Only you can save Chloe! I beg you, abort the child!” I felt as if plunged into an ice cellar: “What are you saying?” Julian, still kneeling, gripped my arm as if afraid I’d run away, his hold impossibly tight. “Chloe has leukemia, and only your bone marrow is a match.” “The doctor said for the donation to go smoothly, you must abort the child. Please, I’m begging you!” “Our family owes Chloe’s family a life! You can’t just stand by and watch her die!!” The man before me, in his frantic state, terrified me. “Julian, are you insane?! This child came after how many hormone shots?! How many years have we waited for this, have you forgotten!?” My voice grew sharp, filled with disbelief. Julian, as if he hadn’t expected me to refuse, His face twisted, anger overriding his desperation. “Can’t you have another child?! What could be more important than Chloe?!” His words were followed by a harsh slap. I clutched my red, swollen cheek, completely stunned. By the time I reacted, I couldn’t catch my breath and passed out. When I woke again, my slightly swollen belly was flat. Learning I had lost the child, I felt as if my soul had been ripped from my body, all vitality gone. Compared to the lifelessness in my hospital room, Chloe’s bed, just a wall away, was surrounded by people. Everyone was celebrating Chloe’s recovery from danger; My husband happily held her hand, his eyes full of affection: “Chloe, I told you I’d cure you no matter the cost.” Chloe was moved to tears: “Julian, I always believed in you.” Everyone present praised their bond, saying it was closer than blood. Just a wall away, I lay shattered on the bed, like a rag doll from whom all utility had been extracted. I don’t know how much time passed. When I regained consciousness, it had been a week. The nurse, seeing me finally regain some autonomy, said with a hint of fear: “Ms. Aubrey, you wouldn’t believe it, but for that entire week, you had no basic will to live. You were sustained only by IV drips. Otherwise, I’m afraid…” The nurse didn’t finish her sentence. I didn’t care about my emaciated body, nor did I care about anyone anymore. I was no different from a corpse. Having lost my child, I finally dialed the number I thought I’d never call in my life. Back then… He insisted I take his contact information, saying it was his private number. No matter when I called, he would answer immediately. The phone connected, and a deep, magnetic voice came through: “You finally called.”

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I could always hear intimate sounds coming from next door. Men and women, a chaotic mess. It kept me awake all night. But he lived alone. My new roommate’s room often made strange noises at night, and there was always a strong, foul, musky odor emanating from it, and from him too. Every time he walked past me, I couldn’t help but want to cover my nose. I guessed he frequently brought girlfriends home for wild, raucous nights, but I had never actually seen any of them. This one evening, I was sitting on my bed, scrolling on my phone, when a sultry moan echoed from next door again. It sounded like a woman gasping, making unmistakable noises. My mind was racing with frantic thoughts. Even with headphones on, I couldn’t block out the sound. Was he really bringing another girlfriend back? The sounds lasted for several hours before finally quieting down. I finally drifted into an exhausted sleep. The next morning. I was getting ready for work. The moment I opened my door, I ran right into my roommate sitting on the couch. I couldn’t help but frown. The musky odor on him seemed even stronger today. When he saw me, his eyes instantly lit up. I was wearing a professional, modest skirt suit today. But his gaze was fixed on me, still staring, and it made my stomach churn. “Morning, did you sleep well last night? Did I bother you?” He smiled, a knowing glint in his eyes, clearly implying something. The sounds were so loud, does he have no self-awareness? I frowned, bristling with anger, and glared at him, ready to storm out. But then he started to explain: “I’m a voice actor. I need a quiet environment late at night to simulate various situational sounds for my work.” His mouth opened and closed, a sleazy glint in his smiling eyes. “You know, some voice work is just hard to perform in an office.” I couldn’t help but think of the voice actor videos I’d seen online – the voices often had a stark contrast with the actual person. But… those explicit sounds I heard, were they just voice acting? Seeing my continued suspicion, he got up from the couch. The strange odor on him intensified with his movement, filling the entire space with a suffocating, unpleasant smell. I subtly took a step back, not bothering to hide my disgust, my brows still tightly furrowed. He paused for a moment, then chuckled, revealing his large teeth. I only wished I was nearsighted, because I could see the food remnants on his teeth all too clearly, and my stomach twisted with nausea. “Here, look, this is my work ID.” He held the ID up to my face. The closer he got, the stronger that utterly foul smell became. I forced myself to suppress a dry heave and glanced at it. Sure enough, he was a voice actor. Hearing his explanation, I secretly let out a sigh of relief, but my guard didn’t drop. Because ever since he moved in, I’d constantly felt his subtle, lingering gaze, like a shadow, making the hair on my arms stand on end.

That day, I was about to take a shower. I’d just stepped into the bathroom and hadn’t locked the door yet. I heard the faintest sound of a door creaking open, and my heart instantly seized with alarm. Then, a soft rustling of footsteps. Someone was approaching the bathroom! My nerves went taut. On instinct, I lunged for the door and instantly locked it from the inside. Under the cover of the running water, I faintly heard a man’s heavy breathing from outside the door. My previous roommate was a girl, so I never had this kind of worry. I was used to being careless. I’d been too careless, I’d completely forgotten a man lived here now. If I had been a second slower to lock the door, I didn’t know if he would have burst in. “Dustin, is that you out there? What do you want?” I called my new roommate’s name, my voice icy, hoping to scare him away. I was terrified he would just rush in. After all, this thin plastic door wouldn’t stand a chance against an adult’s kick. But there was no answer from outside the door, only more faint footsteps. He was moving away. After a hurried shower, I wrapped myself up tightly, pulling a large towel over my nightgown before I dared to step out of the bathroom. On the couch, my new roommate sat with his back to me. Hearing the sound, he immediately turned around, a perfectly calm smile on his face. “I just needed to use the restroom. I was half-asleep and didn’t realize anyone was in there. My bad.” His expression looked utterly innocent. “Oh… right, no problem.” After a brief exchange, I retreated to my room, and he entered the bathroom. By the time I’d dried my hair and put on a face mask, emerging from my room, he was no longer in the living room. His bedroom door remained tightly shut. It was as if I was the only one who was tense from start to finish. He always seemed so calm. I forced myself to calm down, repeatedly telling myself I was overthinking things. Was I too quick to judge based on appearances? Mulling this over, I entered the bathroom, intending to wash the undergarments I’d just changed out of. I used to just hang my freshly changed intimates directly on the wall hooks, out of habit. But now, I noticed something odd. Did I really hang them like this? The way they were hanging just felt different from my memory. Still, I’d just casually hung them up, and my memory was hazy, so I couldn’t be sure. “Overthinking it, overthinking it,” I muttered to myself. After washing my intimates, I took them out to dry on the communal balcony. The balcony faced my new roommate’s bedroom door. Everything was perfectly still. But just as I finished hanging the clothes and turned around, I suddenly saw… His door, at some point, had opened a crack, and through the gap, his glasses glinted faintly. This time, I was certain: he was peeking at me.

Our eyes met, and the door instantly slammed shut. A sense of dreadful foreboding completely enveloped me. He’s just peeking now, but what if he escalates later? The more I thought about it, the more terrified I became. I rushed back to my room and immediately ordered a pepper spray online. It would take a few days for the delivery to arrive. I thought for a moment, then, following a trick I learned online, I jammed a clothes hanger into the doorframe. This way, he wouldn’t be able to push the door open easily for a while. I huddled under my covers, silently praying that he was all bark and no bite. The next few days were calm. He was quiet at night, and I didn’t catch him peeking again. My guard slowly lowered, and life seemed to return to its usual tranquility. Then came Saturday. I finally got to sleep in, and my mood was great. I was planning to meet up with Chloe, my best friend, later for some shopping and a nice meal, as I pushed open my door. The sight on the balcony moments later made me freeze. My roommate was actually standing by my freshly laundered undergarments, sniffing them in an utterly perverse way! His expression was one of pure ecstasy, and he was even rubbing his hand over them, caressing the soft fabric. Watching his expression and actions. A wave of disgust washed over me, and my voice came out ice cold. “What are you doing?!” My cheeks burned red with shame and indignation. I rushed forward and snatched the intimates back. “You… you’re going too far!” He gave a sleazy chuckle, completely unbothered by being caught. “Didn’t you hang them on the balcony just to tempt me?” His eyes, burning with intense desire, swept over my body. Then, he smiled strangely. “Congrats, it worked. How about you be my girlfriend?” What the hell, what kind of delusional creep was this? I instinctively recoiled, biting hard on my trembling lip. Faced with his predatory gaze, I instinctively turned and bolted back to my room. But my heart was pounding uncontrollably, overwhelmed with fear. No, I can’t stay here. I hurriedly changed and fled to Chloe’s place. When Chloe heard what happened, she cursed him out as a pervert too. But since he hadn’t done anything concrete, there was nothing the police could do. After staying at Chloe’s until Sunday afternoon, I had no choice but to go back. I had to be at work on Monday, and my professional clothes and work ID were all at home. “It’s okay. If he dares to be creepy again, you tell me. I’ll send Liam, my boyfriend, to deal with him!” With Chloe’s comfort, plus the pepper spray having already arrived, I felt a bit more relaxed. Back home. He didn’t seem to be home; his slippers were by the door. As I was gathering dirty clothes to throw into the washing machine, I realized I couldn’t find the pair of stockings I’d changed out of on Friday. After searching around with no luck. I was drawn, as if by an unearthly urge, to my roommate’s door, and reached out to twist the doorknob. *Click.* It was locked. I withdrew my hand, feeling an indescribable mix of emotions. Maybe I just put them in some corner. As for the set of intimates that had been hanging on the balcony, I threw them directly into the trash can. Just thinking about how many times he must have touched them over those few days they hung there made my skin crawl. It wasn’t until very late, after I had already fallen asleep, that I heard my roommate opening the door and returning. His room was quiet tonight. Unknowingly, I drifted into a deep sleep. I don’t know how much time passed. *Bang!* The sound of a water bottle hitting the floor instantly jolted me awake. I was disoriented for a second, then my eyes shot open towards my bedroom door, which was slightly ajar. I could vaguely see a dark silhouette frozen at the doorway. 4. I cowered in fear, terrified he would burst in the next second. The dark figure tentatively pushed the door. *Rattle, rattle.* Thankfully, the door was still jammed shut with the clothes hanger trick, so he couldn’t easily get in. I trembled all over, feeling as if I’d plunged into an icy abyss, too scared to even speak. But my shaking hand frantically gripped the pepper spray hidden under my pillow. The person at the door tried again. After still failing to open the door, he quietly closed it and left. It wasn’t until more than ten minutes after he left that I finally calmed down. My brain raced. This person was undoubtedly my roommate. The fact that he could open my bedroom door meant he must have had a key copied for my room. So, on days I wasn’t home, when I was at work, had he been…? The more I thought about it, the more terrified I became. Sleep was impossible. I quickly got up and checked around the room, but found nothing missing. But I knew deep down, this couldn’t continue. If he ever completely lost control, I would be finished. I spent a restless night. The next morning, I specifically called in sick to work and kept my ears peeled for any movement from next door. Finally, I heard him leave. I immediately jumped out of bed and called a locksmith to change the lock. After the new lock was installed, I felt a bit more at ease. My gaze involuntarily fell on his tightly closed door. He was always so secretive; there had to be something seriously off in that room! I asked the locksmith to open his door, claiming I had accidentally locked it. The locksmith, without suspicion, picked the lock and then left. And I, pushing the door open, nervously stepped into his room. The curtains were drawn tight, making the room incredibly dim. His computer was locked, connected to a set of streaming equipment. Microphones, cameras, etc. It looked very professional. Wasn’t he a voice actor? Why was he dabbling in live streaming?

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My husband’s mistress was dead – murdered. That afternoon, my husband and I were taken to the police station. I actually had no idea my husband was having an affair. If it weren’t for this murder case, I might have been kept in the dark forever. To identify the killer, the police took our fingerprints and asked about our whereabouts during the victim’s estimated time of death. The victim, Mandy Liu, was a 28-year-old office worker. She died around 11 PM on July 30, 2019. The cause of death was a severed carotid artery, leading to massive blood loss. It had been three days since Mandy Liu’s death. With only three days passed, I clearly remembered what happened that night. My husband had been with me the whole time, sleeping very soundly. So I naturally told the truth. My husband and I were questioned separately by the police. I was interviewed by a man and a woman. The man, Mike, was around 30 and a deputy leader of the major crime unit. The woman, Wendy, looked to be in her late 20s and was quite beautiful. Perhaps because I was pregnant and had just learned about my husband’s affair, they saw my red-rimmed eyes and were very gentle when questioning me, probably worried I couldn’t handle the psychological stress. Especially Wendy – she looked at me with kind eyes and asked, “Mrs. Lin, please think carefully. Are you absolutely certain your husband didn’t leave the house that night? Is it possible he snuck out while you were asleep?” I was taken aback, considered for a moment, then said, “Officer Wendy, since becoming pregnant I’ve been sleeping a lot, so I go to bed early every night. All I can say is that my husband was there when I fell asleep and when I woke up.” Wendy and Mike exchanged a glance. Curiously, I asked, “Officer Wendy, can’t you extract DNA evidence from the rape victim? If you suspect my husband, you could test for that.” Even as I said this, I was thinking – they were already having an affair, why would he need to rape her? The killer definitely wasn’t my husband. Seeing my question, Wendy shook her head and said, “The killer was clever and didn’t leave any useful evidence. So this case is a bit complicated to investigate.” I made a sound of acknowledgment. Wendy asked how far along my pregnancy was. I told her just over 4 months. She smiled and glanced at my belly, saying it looked quite large and might be twins. She added that pregnant women are prone to emotional reactions and advised me to try to stay positive and take good care of myself. I was very touched by Wendy’s words. After chatting a bit more, I left the police station. I thought my husband would be coming home with me, but Officer Mike said he needed to stay and assist with the investigation. With no other choice, I had to go home alone. Back in my neighborhood, I learned from neighbors that several police officers had come by. They had checked the security camera footage and asked if anyone had heard our door open between 9 PM and early morning on July 30th. I asked what the neighbor had told them. She said she hadn’t heard anything, so she told them the truth. Hearing this, I felt reassured. I assumed my husband would be spending the night at the police station since he wasn’t answering my calls. But just as I was about to go to sleep after dinner, he came home. He was still cold and aloof as usual. I got up to heat some food for him, but he stopped me. I asked, “Honey, why didn’t you answer my call earlier?” He said the police had taken his phone to copy his chat and call records. Thinking about all the intimate exchanges with that woman on his phone, I felt disgusted. But considering the baby, I held back. After all, that woman was dead now – what was there left to be upset about? But I was wrong. My lack of concern didn’t mean others felt the same. As I dozed off, I suddenly felt a violent choking sensation. Opening my eyes, I realized my husband was frantically strangling me, trying to kill me.

I struggled desperately, pushing against him while choking out, “Honey… I’m carrying your child… Do you really… want both of us dead?” My words had the desired effect. He slowly released my neck, forcefully gripping my shoulders instead. Glaring at me with bloodshot eyes, he shouted, “Lucy, tell me – did you hire someone to kill Mandy?” His rage terrified me. I quickly explained, “Honey, you’re… you’re wrong. I don’t have the guts for that.” “Hmph! You’d better hope I don’t find out you did it. Otherwise, I’ll strangle you myself.” With a final menacing glare, my husband got off the bed and left. He didn’t return to the bedroom that night. I tossed and turned, his furious face haunting my thoughts. It wasn’t until nearly dawn that I finally drifted into a fitful sleep. I was woken by the sound of the doorbell. After listening for a while and realizing no one was answering, I drowsily got up to go downstairs and open the door. But as I descended the stairs and saw the scene in the living room, I let out a scream of horror. My husband was slumped motionlessly on the sofa, surrounded by a large pool of blood. He had slit his wrists. A bloody scalpel lay on the coffee table. Seeing this terrifying sight, I screamed again. I couldn’t bear to look a second time – it was too horrific. My whole body went limp and I collapsed to the floor, shaking uncontrollably. The doorbell kept ringing. Hearing my screams, it became even more urgent. I wanted to open the door but found I had no strength. I could only sit there sobbing. After what felt like forever, the door was forced open from outside. Wendy and Mike entered, followed by two uniformed officers. When they saw my husband, they were all startled. Mike immediately called the medical examiner, while Wendy helped me up from the floor where I sat crying. The medical examiner arrived quickly and made a preliminary determination of suicide, with time of death around 2 AM. His face was contorted, as if he had experienced something terrifying just before dying. Mike told me that my husband was the one who had killed Mandy Liu. I didn’t believe it at first, but he said the evidence was conclusive. They had obtained security camera footage from both our neighborhood and Mandy’s. Although he had avoided the cameras in our complex, he wasn’t as familiar with Mandy’s area. They had captured an image of him there around 10 PM on the night of the murder. I was stunned. Mike also told me they had found WeChat records on my husband’s phone confirming he and Mandy had planned to meet those days. So their initial conclusion was that my husband had committed suicide out of guilt. I felt devastated. I crouched down, my body shaking uncontrollably like a sieve. The police took my husband’s body away for further examination. Our living room became a crime scene, surrounded by police tape. Especially that pool of blood on the floor – it made my heart race with fear just looking at it. After I finished giving my statement, Wendy seemed very sympathetic. She put a comforting hand on my shoulder and asked softly, “Lucy, I see bruises on your neck. Did Charlie abuse you?” Her question reminded me of the previous night’s events. I wiped away my tears and carefully said, “Last night I confronted him about the affair. He was in a bad mood and got physical.” Wendy looked thoughtful, then said after a pause, “The neck is a vulnerable area. It seems he was trying to kill you. Why didn’t you call the police?”

Wendy’s words startled me. I took a deep breath and said, covering my neck, “Officer Wendy, he’s my husband – the father of my unborn child.” Seeing my response, Wendy didn’t press further. As they prepared to leave, she advised me to stay at a nearby hotel if I felt unsafe at home, and to call her if I needed anything. I nodded in agreement and watched them go. I grew up in a rural area, with my parents still living far away in the countryside. My husband’s parents were from another city. After college, we both found jobs here, so we bought our marital home in this city. But I never imagined I’d end up alone in this 2000 square foot house. The thought made me incredibly sad. I went upstairs to pack a few changes of clothes and checked into a nearby hotel. After eating a little, I took out my husband’s bank cards and called the online banking customer service. To my surprise, I discovered there was over $500,000 in deposits across his accounts. I didn’t actually know my husband’s bank card PINs. But recently I had purposely asked him to take me shopping for baby items. By watching him enter his WeChat Pay password multiple times, I had secretly memorized it. I guessed that like most people, he probably used the same password for WeChat, Alipay and his bank cards to avoid forgetting. Sure enough, my hunch was correct – it worked on the first try. Ever since getting pregnant, I had suffered from severe morning sickness and was forced to quit my job as a makeup artist at a photo studio. My husband was very guarded about money and only gave me $500 a month for living expenses. This had always bothered me. I put away the bank cards, feeling exhausted. I dozed off on the bed and had a nightmare. In the dream, I was lying motionless in bed while Mandy Liu and my husband Charlie grinned eerily at me, reaching out to strangle me. I jolted awake, realizing it was just a dream. Parched, I was about to get up for some water when my phone on the nightstand rang. Seeing it was Wendy calling, my heart skipped a beat. I took a deep breath before answering. Wendy asked which hotel I was staying at, saying there were some more things they needed to understand. I gave her the hotel name. About 30 minutes later, Wendy arrived alone – Mike wasn’t with her this time. I let her into the room. Wendy smiled and said, “Mrs. Lin, although your husband’s death appears to be suicide, the autopsy found a significant amount of alprazolam in his system – much more than a normal dose. Did he have any medical conditions requiring this medication?” “Alprazolam?” I pondered the drug name, then realized, “Oh, you mean the sleeping pills? My husband had insomnia. He only took a couple pills when he couldn’t sleep.” “Is that so? But the amount detected in your husband’s body was at least five times a normal dose. How do you explain that?” Hearing Wendy’s words, I gave a bitter laugh.

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My husband, Jake, was a big-shot stylist in the industry. His clients? All high-spending wealthy women. He’d come home late, shed his clothes, and just crash. But one night, I found a receipt in his jacket pocket. Just one item listed: condoms. The purchase time was 8:16 PM, that very evening. My blood ran cold. Jake and I hadn’t been intimate in ages. So, who exactly was that box for? My name is Natalie. I’m 26 and I work at a bank, primarily in investment and wealth management. My parents were strict educators, so it was a shock when I insisted on marrying Jake, someone whose background and upbringing were so completely different from mine. Jake was effortlessly charming and undeniably handsome—the kind of guy who’d make any woman’s heart flutter with just one glance. At the time, he worked as a stylist at an upscale salon. My office was nearby, and I’d often pop in for a haircut. That’s how we got to know each other. He was witty, humorous, and incredibly composed—nothing like the loud and obnoxious guys I’d known in college. I was utterly captivated, and soon enough, we started dating. When my father found out, he hit the roof. He tore into me, screaming. I cried my eyes out, but my mom, bless her heart, intervened, mediating between us for what felt like forever. In the end, my father reluctantly gave in. I thought being with the man I loved would be like living in a dream, every day sweeter than the last. Instead, after we got married, I was under immense emotional stress. Insomnia, nightmares, hair loss, I looked utterly dreadful. Every time I caught my reflection, it was like staring at a ghost. I’d turn my head to look at Jake, sprawled on the couch, glued to his phone. His shirt would ride up, revealing his defined abs. Compared to him, I felt even more self-conscious. My parents, seeing how much I’d wasted away, were heartbroken. Soon after we married, they dipped into most of their life savings to buy us a house in a prime school district and even gave Jake a chunk of money to further his hairdressing skills. After his advanced training, he really took off. He became the salon’s star stylist and was promoted to creative director. But ever since Jake became a director, he got busier and busier. He was out early and back late; I barely saw him. When he did come home, it was usually late, smelling of liquor and unfamiliar perfume. He wouldn’t even bother to take off his clothes, just crash onto the bed and pass out. That night, Jake didn’t get home until after midnight, just like always. He stumbled onto the bed, still in his jacket, and within moments, his snores filled the room. My heart ached for him. I reached out, gently took his arm, and carefully pulled his jacket off. With a soft shake, a few strands of wine-red, curly hair drifted from his jacket and landed on the floor. I didn’t think much of it; Jake was a hairdresser, after all. He always had different women’s hair on him, I was used to it. I picked up the hair, tossed it into the nearby trash can, and draped his jacket over the back of a chair. Suddenly, a small crumpled piece of paper fell out of his jacket pocket. Curious, I smoothed it open. It was a supermarket receipt. Just one item: condoms. Purchased at 8:16 PM, tonight. I froze. Jake and I hadn’t been intimate in ages. So, who exactly was that box of condoms for? The thought sparked, and doubt took root deep in my heart . I picked up Jake’s jacket again, carefully checking every inch. Finally, on the collar, I spotted a deep, unmistakable lipstick stain. Jake had often told me his job involved a lot of women: the sexy receptionist, young new clients, and chatty female stylists. But of course, his most frequent clients were the high-spending wealthy ones.

From the very first day of our marriage, I chose to trust him. I never questioned his work. But seeing that lipstick stain on his jacket and that box of condoms, I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. My mind started racing, consumed by wild suspicions. The overthinking clearly impacted my work efficiency. I asked my supervisor for a day off and went straight to ‘The Muse’ salon. After marrying Jake, I’d never once been to his workplace. He never invited me to work events, either, so over time, I didn’t know any of his friends or colleagues. After asking around, I finally found The Muse salon. It was on the fifth floor of a mall, taking up a huge space, entirely enclosed by transparent glass. As soon as I stepped off the elevator, I saw The Muse’s prominent sign. Through the glass doors, I spotted a short-haired girl with bright green hair, lounging at the reception desk, practically *melting* into a smile for Jake. Jake flashed a wicked grin. He reached out and lightly brushed her hair with his fingers, and her smile widened even more. Jake’s gaze swept over the short-haired girl’s body, and he reached out again, giving her waist a playful squeeze. She didn’t pull away, instead, she pressed his hand into her waist, rubbing against it. The electricity between them was palpable. I stood there, stunned. *This* was my husband’s normal work environment? My legs felt like concrete; I couldn’t move an inch. Jake leaned in, whispered something into the green-haired girl’s ear, then turned and walked deeper into the salon. I quickly pushed through the doors and followed his direction. I saw him disappear into a VIP room. The green-haired girl looked at me, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes. “Haircut or perm? Do you have a regular stylist?” I shook my head. “No. Just find me anyone.” The green-haired girl yelled inside, “Kevin! Client for you! Come wash her hair.” A slender, somewhat effeminate guy responded, his hair dyed yellow. He smiled at me. “Right this way, beautiful.” I followed him, passing by a mirror. Seeing my own dreadful reflection and hearing him call me “beautiful,” I felt like their profession required a serious lack of conscience. Kevin quickly washed my hair, then led me to a chair near the corner. A white towel was draped over my face. I heard him ask, “So, beautiful, how do you want your hair cut?” “Just… whatever,” I mumbled. Kevin took the towel off, let my hair down, and started cutting. He was quite talkative, chatting idly with me, which was perfect. It gave me a chance to pump him for information. “How did you hear about our salon, beautiful?” he asked. “A friend recommended it. She’s a client of… Tony. I don’t see Tony around, though?” I asked, feigning casualness. Kevin scoffed, a hint of bitterness in his voice. “Oh, *our* Tony? He’s far too busy. Not just anyone can see him. You need to have *this*.” He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together in front of me, clearly indicating money. “Oh?” I couldn’t help but ask, intrigued. “How much are we talking?” Kevin looked at my face, confused, then seeing my serious expression, he dropped his smile. He glanced around, then leaned in close, whispering, “Look, sis, you seem like an honest person. Just don’t get yourself mixed up in this mess.”

It seemed Kevin knew a lot. I looked at his reflection in the mirror and said, “Tell me about him, and I’ll buy a Gold Card here.” Kevin’s eyes instantly lit up. He grinned at me. “Sis, are you also interested in Tony? We have tons of clients who are!” Kevin started talking. “Tony is handsome, charming, and he has the most clients. Not just a lot, but they’re all wealthy women, driving fancy cars!” Kevin continued to chat as he cut my hair. Apparently, Jake only served clients in the VIP section. To get into that room, you had to have spent at least ten thousand dollars at the salon. “That much?” I exclaimed, surprised. Kevin seemed unfazed. He took a strand of my hair, snipped it, and continued, “Our Tony is worth it! Who can blame him for being so skilled?” His tone was dripping with envy. I looked at Kevin. He wasn’t bad-looking himself, and he was younger than Jake. Logically, why wouldn’t those rich women choose him? I asked curiously, “You’re pretty handsome too. Rich women should like your type.” Kevin paused for a moment, then burst into a happy laugh. “Sis, you’re too kind!” He put down his scissors and leaned in close, whispering, “Tony has his own methods. He knows how to make those rich women willingly open their wallets for him.” I looked at him, shaking my head, curious. Kevin sighed, speaking as if he were disappointed in Jake. “It’s pickup artistry, you know? I heard he’s a master at it. No feelings involved. If they’re pretty, he uses them for sex. If they’re rich, he bleeds them dry.” Just then, I heard someone shouting at the entrance, “I *have* to see Tony! I know he’s here! No one else will do!” The girl stood at the reception, hands on her hips, yelling loudly. No one around moved; everyone just kept busy with their work. I was shocked. I pointed at the girl. “Hey, aren’t you going to do something?” Kevin shushed me. “We see this all the time. Someone always comes looking for Tony after a while.” I looked back at the girl. Her face was flushed with anger. No matter how much she yelled, no one paid her any mind. Finally, Chloe, the green-haired receptionist, couldn’t take it anymore and shouted back, “Ma’am, if you really want Tony to style your hair, I can make an appointment for you.” The girl immediately started spewing insults. “Book my ass! You have no idea what my relationship with him is!” She tossed her head and waved her finger. “I’m telling you, we slept together yesterday! What, he just uses women and tosses them aside now?” Kevin snickered when he heard that. But I couldn’t find anything to laugh about. All I could think was: *Jake cheated. My husband cheated.* I sat there, watching the girl scream, unable to process anything. As I sat there in a daze, Jake emerged from the VIP room. The girl, seeing him, instantly changed her demeanor. She scurried over to Jake, calling out sweetly, “Darling, I’ve been looking for you all day! Why did you take so long?” Jake’s face was cold as he stared at her. “This is my workplace. What are you doing, making such a scene?” The girl, who had just been so belligerent, instantly fell silent. She hung her head, standing before Jake, docile as a kitten.

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The woman told me to run away quickly, or I’d be the next one locked up in here. But when she saw my boyfriend, she threw herself at him. Not in hysterical anger, nor in timid pleading. Instead, she kissed him. So passionately, so tenderly. It made my skin crawl and my breath stop. 0A skeletal woman was chained up in the basement. Her cheeks were sunken, her body covered in bruises. An iron chain around her neck kept her tethered like a dog in the dark, sunless space. I stood on the stairs, our eyes meeting. My breathing quickened for no apparent reason. She seemed surprised to see me there. I told her my boyfriend had brought me to his hometown to meet his parents. Just as I was about to ask who she was, she suddenly became hysterical upon hearing this. She shouted at me: “Run! Get out of here now!” Her sudden outburst startled me. With a trembling voice, I asked her why. But her next words sent chills down my spine. “Because if you don’t leave, you’ll be the next one locked up in here!” 0

I had been dating Lucas for six months and we were planning to get married. He invited me to his hometown to meet his parents. Lucas was considered a good man by everyone, and his parents had always been very caring towards me. Today, because I wasn’t feeling well, I stayed alone at his house. Her words made me uneasy, so I left the basement as quickly as I could. When I came up, I found Lucas had already returned. He handed me a bag of sweet apricots, but I could barely taste them. I tentatively asked, “Have you ever brought other women back here before?” Lucas’s fingers paused for a moment, then he wiped the juice from the corner of my mouth and smiled, “I’ve already told you, I’ve only had two exes.” Lucas had always kept his social circle simple, coming home on time every night. Even when he occasionally went out drinking with friends, they were all people I knew. I knew I shouldn’t doubt my boyfriend. But who was that girl in the basement? I nodded thoughtfully, suddenly remembering something. I probed further, “Was one of your ex-girlfriends… the one with a birthmark on her wrist?” His face instantly darkened, and I felt inexplicably nervous. Lucas demanded to know how I knew about the birthmark. I suppressed the fear in my heart and tried to act calm, telling him he had mentioned it once before and I had remembered. I’ve always been attentive to details, so this explanation should be believable. Lucas stared intently at my expression. I unconsciously swallowed, cold sweat breaking out all over my body. Suddenly, Lucas smiled. He went into the inner room and took out a photo from the drawer, handing it to me. The woman in the photo was clearly the woman in the basement. Next to her stood Lucas and his parents, all smiling at the camera, clearly a family portrait. Lucas pointed to the family photo and explained that the one with the birthmark was actually his sister. His sister had an accident some years ago and became mentally unstable, often running away on the streets. She almost got hit by cars several times, so they had no choice but to keep her locked up at home. I suddenly understood and felt relieved. But then I thought, even if she was his own sister, she shouldn’t be locked in the basement. However, this was their family matter, and I didn’t feel it was my place to ask more questions. As I glanced at the photo again, I couldn’t help but feel that their smiles seemed somewhat forced. 0

In the middle of the night, I was awakened by a nightmare. I looked to the side and found no one there. Feeling uneasy, I decided to go out and take a look. As I passed through the living room, I heard voices. It was Lucas’s voice. What was he doing up at this hour? I quietly hid behind a pillar and saw candles burning in the room, casting Lucas’s shadow on the window. I saw him holding a knife, stabbing downwards quickly. I heard a muffled thud, followed by a splash of blood on the window. A patch of crimson, with a faint smell of blood in the air. In that instant, fear swept over me. The scene from earlier flashed in my mind – Lucas was killing someone! I suppressed the terror in my heart, hiding there not daring to make a sound. Then I saw Lucas hack down again, and another splash of blood spurted out. My heart was pounding violently. I wanted to call the police with my phone, but then remembered I had left it in the bedroom. I was about to sneak back to the room when I turned around and saw his mother standing expressionless behind me, who knows how long she had been watching. “Where are you going, Mia?” 0

I was terrified, my whole body trembling. I managed to force a stiff smile. “Oh, I was just going to the bathroom.” As I said this, I instinctively looked back and saw Lucas’s hawk-like eyes staring at me unblinkingly. I looked at the knife in his hand, my back already damp with cold sweat. I was debating whether to cry for help when Lucas suddenly frowned, quickly walked over and felt my forehead. “You look so pale, are you running a fever?” I swallowed hard, looking at his concerned expression, unable to reconcile it with his actions of killing someone. After hesitating, I finally spoke up. “What were you… doing just now?” Lucas seemed confused for a moment, then took my hand and led me into the room. As soon as we entered, I saw a dead pig tied to a bench, several knife wounds on its body, the air thick with the smell of blood. Even so, I breathed a sigh of relief. I scratched my head awkwardly and asked sheepishly, “Why are you butchering a pig in the middle of the night?” His mother smiled kindly, taking out a piece of pig liver from a basin and handing it to me. “It’s because we saw you weren’t feeling well and thought you needed some nourishment.” I looked at her gnarled hands stained red with blood, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. I realized it was all a misunderstanding. I smiled awkwardly and left, my heart filled with gratitude. I didn’t see the smiles on Lucas and his mother’s faces turn cold the moment I turned my back. 0

Back in the room, I still couldn’t sleep, tossing and turning. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was Lucas’s cold expression as he held the knife. The more I thought about it, the more uneasy I felt. People usually kill pigs with one cut to the throat, but Lucas was torturing it cruelly. After much hesitation, I went back to the basement. His sister seemed to have anticipated my return, sitting on the ground waiting for me even in the middle of the night. I looked at her with pity, but when our eyes met, hers held only coldness. “You don’t believe me.” I smiled awkwardly, not knowing what to say. Suddenly, she stood up, making the small space feel even more cramped. I looked at her suddenly fierce face in the candlelight, feeling a hint of fear, and unconsciously took a step back. There was a “crack” sound, like I had stepped on something. I looked down and almost screamed – it was a human bone! My breathing instantly became rapid, and my forehead was covered in sweat. When I looked back at his sister, I saw her playing with a leg bone in her hand. I was so scared I nearly fainted, and turned to leave, but she stopped me. She shoved the leg bone into my hands, and I quickly let go as if it were scalding hot. In the darkness, his sister’s smile seemed even more terrifying. She leaned in and whispered, “Well, do you believe me now?” My thoughts were in turmoil. The evidence was right in front of me, no matter how much I wanted to defend Lucas. His sister told me that just because she had witnessed her brother killing someone years ago, he locked her up here and buried that person’s bones in this basement. I listened, horrified, and immediately said I would call the police. His sister quickly tried to stop me when she heard I wanted to call the police. I reassured her, “Don’t be afraid, I’ll make sure justice is served.” But his sister still shook her head in fear. “It’s useless, they all say I’m crazy, no one will believe me… If you want to leave, go find Mrs. Johnson at the edge of town, she can help you.” I looked at this poor woman, touched that she was still trying to help me even in her condition. Early the next morning, I made an excuse to go out for a walk. Lucas insisted on coming along, saying he was worried I might get lost in an unfamiliar place. It was a small town with only about a hundred households, and we soon reached the edge. There was an old house there, its door slightly ajar. While Lucas was smoking, I quietly pushed open the door, but was immediately hit by a terrible stench that made me cough repeatedly. It was very dark inside. After my eyes adjusted, I could make out the scene. On an old bed in front of me was a woman who looked like death, tied up. Around her stood at least four or five half-dressed men. They had eerie smiles on their faces, looking at me with interest like predators eyeing their prey. Goosebumps instantly covered my body. I instinctively took a few steps back, only to bump into something. I turned around to find Lucas blocking the doorway, who knows how long he had been there. His eyes were examining me coldly, sending chills down my spine. “This is the town’s brothel. What are you doing in here?”

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Emily never imagined that she would overhear certain sounds coming from her mother-in-law’s room. She initially thought her father-in-law had returned home. To her shock, it turned out her mother-in-law was having an affair! Margaret seemed confident that Emily wouldn’t dare reveal this secret and continued to act shamelessly towards her! However, a few days later, Margaret was suddenly diagnosed with HIV! And Margaret’s affair partner had also died… In the peak of summer, the cicadas were chirping loudly outside. Emily tossed and turned, but was jolted awake by a stinging pain in her fingertip. Fully awake now, she felt thoroughly annoyed. Today had been truly unlucky. While grocery shopping in the afternoon, some brat had put a needle on the seat of a rental bike, pricking her when she sat down. Then when she got home, her mother-in-law Margaret criticized her for not even being able to make a proper salad. In her flustered state, she had accidentally cut her finger while cooking. The cicadas outside grew even louder. Emily gave up on sleep and decided to use the bathroom. As soon as she stepped out, she heard intense female moaning coming from Margaret’s bedroom. She could even faintly make out the sound of flesh slapping against flesh. Emily was startled. Looking closely, she saw an old pair of men’s leather shoes in the entryway. The shoes were a bit worn, with traces of dirt still on them. It must be her father-in-law George who had returned. George often traveled for work. Despite being alone at home, Margaret never neglected her appearance. She even had a more extensive makeup collection than Emily. It was understandable that George couldn’t resist upon returning. Emily didn’t dare linger. She quickly ducked into the bathroom. When she came out, Margaret’s voice hadn’t quieted down. In fact, it had grown even more uninhibited. Emily was too embarrassed to stay outside and rushed back to her room without even getting a drink of water. Looking at the pitch-black room and hearing the moans that even the closed door couldn’t block out, Emily suddenly felt very empty inside. She also couldn’t help but wonder. David and George both worked at the same research institute. Usually they traveled and returned together. Why had only George come back this time? The empty double bed held only her body heat. Outside, the cicadas gradually quieted down, and Emily drifted back to sleep. The next morning, Emily woke up extra early. George sometimes had to leave quickly for work when he returned home. Worried he might have to rush off again, Emily got up early to make breakfast. Although she and Margaret didn’t get along well, George had always been kind. Emily’s relationship with Margaret was maintained largely thanks to George and David’s mediation. Emily felt very grateful towards George. After I set out the steamed buns and porridge on the table and turned to get Margaret’s soy milk, I heard Margaret shouting again outside. “Other people’s daughters-in-law are frugal homemakers. But you just have to put on a grand feast for breakfast, as if you’re serving the emperor! I bet you’re just some country bumpkin who’s never seen the world, trying to freeload off our family!” The anger immediately rose in Emily’s chest. Emily had been abandoned at an orphanage as a newborn and adopted by a kind rural couple at age ten. After graduating college, she moved to the city for work and later married David. After marriage, David and George often traveled for work. Margaret used the excuse of poor health to force Emily to quit her job and become a full-time housewife. Emily had acquiesced to her wishes, but Margaret’s nitpicking never stopped. Whenever David was away for work, Margaret would find fault with everything Emily did at home, always accusing her of being a freeloader. Emily walked out of the kitchen, slamming down the soy milk forcefully. She was about to argue back when she caught sight of her wedding ring. The fire in her heart slowly died down. Although Margaret had always looked down on her, Emily had seen David’s care and love for her over the years. Moreover, before he left last time, he had told her to wait just one more month. Once he finished his current work, he would take her to move out and live as a couple. Emily took a deep breath and patiently explained: “I didn’t mean to make so much. I just heard Father-in-law come home last night, so this extra portion of breakfast…” Before Emily could finish speaking, Margaret suddenly stood up, grabbed the soy milk that had been placed on the table, and threw it in Emily’s face. “You little hussy, are you trying to act up?! You haven’t even given our family an heir yet and you’re already trying to manipulate me? Let me tell you, you’d better behave yourself, or I’ll make David kick you out of this house sooner or later!” Over the years, Margaret had inexplicably given Emily a hard time, but she had rarely been this directly physical. Emily was stunned for a moment. Meanwhile, Margaret sat down as if she had won a victory and began picking at her breakfast. Emily gritted her teeth and swallowed her anger. Fine, in just one more month David would take her to move out. There was no benefit to falling out with Margaret at this point. Emily suppressed her anger and went back to her room to change clothes. Behind her, Margaret let out a cold snort, as if certain Emily wouldn’t dare do anything to her.

By the time Emily changed and came out, Margaret had already left. The breakfast table looked as if it had been hit by a bomb. Emily repeatedly consoled herself that they would be moving out in just a month. After cleaning up the table, she went to tidy up David’s clothes. The weather had turned cold recently. David had only taken seasonal clothes when he left last time. Emily was worried he might catch a cold. After a busy morning, Emily had just made lunch when Margaret called. “Have you made lunch? Hurry up and bring the food to the mahjong parlor.” Before Emily could say anything, Margaret had already hung up. For years, Margaret had treated Emily like the family’s maid. But for David’s sake, Emily still packed up food for Margaret. She had barely eaten two bites herself before rushing off to the mahjong parlor. “I told you to bring some food and you’re so slow! What else can you do right?” Margaret snapped as she took the lunchbox from Emily, giving her a dirty look. Mrs. Johnson sitting next to her couldn’t bear to watch and spoke up for Emily. “Margaret, your daughter-in-law is already very good. She even brings you food every day. My daughter-in-law is lucky if I see her once a year on holidays.” Margaret wolfed down her food while glaring sideways at Emily with a cold smile. “She’s just some country girl from the sticks. She’s living off my son’s money. Bringing me food is the least she can do to show some filial piety!” By this point, Emily was no longer listening to what Margaret was saying about her. Because she had spotted a familiar pair of muddy old men’s leather shoes. The shoes that had appeared in her home’s entryway last night were now on the feet of Mr. Johnson, who was playing mahjong with Margaret! The person in Margaret’s bedroom last night wasn’t George at all, but Mr. Johnson who always played mahjong with Margaret! Margaret was brazenly having an affair at home! “What are you staring at? Didn’t you hear what I said?” Margaret slammed down her lunchbox. Her tone was fierce, but her eyes didn’t dare meet Emily’s. Margaret shoved the lunchbox at Emily. “Forget it! I’m sick of looking at your face! Hurry up and get out of here!” Emily took the lunchbox and stumbled home in a daze. She never imagined that Margaret, who was so traditional and conservative, would actually have an affair! This was David’s mother after all. It wasn’t Emily’s place to deal with this. But David’s greatest wish was for family harmony. If she really told him about this, who knows what kind of storm it would stir up in the family. Lost in thought, the sky had already darkened outside. Suddenly her phone rang – it was a video call from David. Emily answered the call and saw David’s handsome but clearly exhausted face on the screen. In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to say anything. “Honey, I got the clothes you sent me this morning. I hadn’t even noticed the weather changing. You’re always so thoughtful.” Emily forced a smile, but David sensed something was off. “Honey, did something happen at home? Or did Mom say something to you again? You look so troubled.” As soon as David said this, Emily felt even more guilty. But she still gritted her teeth and denied it: “No, everything’s fine. Just focus on your work.” Before Emily could figure out how to broach the subject, she heard the sound of the front door – Margaret was back. Afraid Margaret would say something unpleasant as soon as she came in and distract David, Emily quickly hung up the call. Margaret seemed to be in a good mood, humming a tune as she came in. Emily thought it over and decided to speak up with a warning. “Mother, Father will be retiring and coming home in a few months. David will be transferring back then too. Our family should live peacefully together.” Emily had meant to remind Margaret not to mess around with Mr. Johnson anymore. But upon hearing this, Margaret glared at Emily with her hands on her hips and started cursing. “Live peacefully? You dare talk to me about living peacefully? Our family took in a hen that can’t even lay eggs like you. How could we possibly live peacefully?” “I just saw you acting all sneaky. Don’t tell me you can’t stand the loneliness and you’re flirting with some man online?” Margaret herself was impure, yet she had the nerve to sling mud at Emily? “David has been living at work for years. If I really got pregnant now, it would most likely be from fooling around with another man!” When Margaret heard the words “fooling around,” her expression changed. She glared fiercely at Emily before turning and storming back to her own room, slamming the door shut.

Whether it was because my words had struck a nerve, or because she knew I had discovered her affair with Mr. Johnson and felt guilty, I ended up having a peaceful month. Margaret would leave the house after breakfast every day. She no longer called me to deliver lunch, and when she came home she would lock herself in her room. We barely even crossed paths. On my birthday, David called in the morning to apologize that he couldn’t make it back due to work. In the afternoon, I received flowers he had sent. The card on the flowers was a poem we loved in college. Reading it brought back all the sweet memories from those days. “You vixen, David’s not home. Don’t tell me these flowers are from some lover of yours!” Margaret started causing trouble again. But I wasn’t worried at all. “Mom, David had these delivered to me.” Margaret scoffed coldly: “Hmph, I knew you weren’t one to be frugal. Making my son waste money buying you flowers!” I couldn’t be bothered to argue with her. I was about to take the flowers back to my room when she called out again: “You ungrateful girl, you don’t even care that your mother-in-law is sick because of you! Hurry up and take me to the hospital!” I immediately became concerned. She had seemed fine earlier – how could she suddenly be ill and need to go to the hospital? “Mom, are you alright? Where are you feeling unwell? I’ll go get the car keys right away!” “What car? Gas is so expensive. The hospital’s not far anyway. Just push me in the wheelchair!” Margaret insisted, so I had no choice but to take her in the wheelchair. On the way, Margaret said she had diarrhea and intermittent fever. The symptoms sounded like the flu to me, but I didn’t dare take it lightly. After all, older people have weaker immune systems. If it developed into something more serious, David would be worried. At the hospital, after hearing the symptoms, the doctor had an odd expression. He told me to take Margaret for a blood test first. A few hours later, when I saw the test results, I was shocked. It was HIV.

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My daughter was diagnosed with kidney failure and urgently needed a transplant. When I found out I was a match, I was overjoyed to lie on the operating table. But when I woke up, I heard my daughter’s cheerful laughter. “Dad, has Aunt Rachel woken up yet? How’s the transplanted kidney working? Finally, we don’t have to pretend in front of Mom anymore. Once Aunt Rachel recovers, we’ll go to the amusement park together!” My blood ran cold. It turns out my husband and daughter had staged this act to get me to donate a kidney to someone else. If that’s how it is, I don’t want this family anymore. 0 The smell of antiseptic assaulted my nostrils as I struggled to open my heavy eyelids. In the pitch-black hospital room, I could only see the faint moonlight filtering through the window. I slowly pushed myself up, a searing pain radiating from the incision site. “Emily…” I instinctively called out my daughter’s name, but my throat was too dry to form complete words. I called out for a while, but no one responded. Just as I was about to lie back down, I suddenly heard familiar voices from the hallway. “Dad, Mom won’t find out, right?” That voice made my whole body freeze. It was clear, cheerful, with a lightness I had never heard before. It was my daughter’s voice. I stumbled out of bed, ignoring the possibility of tearing my stitches. Staggering to the door, I peered through the glass panel and saw her swinging a phone in her hand. Bouncing around… nothing like a patient who had just received a kidney transplant. “Dad, Mom’s still asleep. I snuck out to make a phone call!” “Has Aunt Rachel woken up? Is she feeling okay anywhere? Finally, we don’t have to pretend in front of Mom anymore. Aunt Rachel, do you think I did a good job pretending these past few months?” “Mom’s kidney is finally with you!” “Aunt Rachel, once you’re better, we’ll go to the amusement park together!” Suddenly, my mind went blank. Every word felt like a nail being driven into my eardrums. I couldn’t believe these words were coming from the mouth of the daughter I had lovingly raised for 10 years. Pretending in front of Mom? Did a good job pretending? Aunt Rachel? Was that my best friend of over a decade? My kidney is with her? I bit my lip hard. So for you, this so-called “illness” was just an act you put on? A sharp pain shot through the surgical wound on my waist, but I could no longer feel it. My entire body felt as if it had been submerged in ice water, chilled to the bone. Emily hung up the phone, humming a happy tune. As she turned around, I forcefully dragged myself back to the bed, pulling the covers over myself. The door was gently pushed open. “Mom? Are you awake?” Emily’s voice was deliberately lowered, carrying a fake concern. I kept my eyes tightly shut, struggling to control my breathing. “Still asleep, thank goodness…” She immediately sighed in relief, then started humming again as she left. The sound of footsteps gradually faded away. 0

When the door closed again, I finally opened my eyes. Tears immediately blurred my vision. I trembled as I touched the wound on my side. Beneath the bandages was where my missing right kidney had been. I desperately needed to know some truth. I found my phone on the bedside table. The moment the screen lit up, the lock screen photo of Emily’s radiant smile stabbed at my eyes. That child who I thought needed a kidney transplant to save her life. Now it seemed utterly ironic. I opened the chat history with the contact labeled “BFF”. It was full of mundane conversations. Then I instinctively checked Rachel’s social media profile. Most of it was just daily life updates, nothing unusual. Until I saw Rachel’s last post from three days ago. “In a few days, I will welcome my new life.” The photo showed her in the hospital. But in the corner was a familiar deep black suit jacket. That was the one-of-a-kind custom-made jacket I had specially ordered for him!! I stared at the screen, my fingertips trembling uncontrollably. My chest felt like it was being crushed by a boulder, even breathing became difficult. Tears kept falling from the corners of my eyes. Why? We were all familiar with each other, all known each other for over a decade. One was my best friend, the other my husband of 11 years. I never imagined that the man who once revolved around me, keeping me warm and comfortable, and the daughter I was so proud of would one day deceive and betray me. We were once the couple everyone envied from college. I always thought we would walk hand in hand through life, growing old together. But I never expected that after so many years of trust and companionship, it would all turn to ashes in the face of reality. Now, he had crushed my future with his own hands. Seeing this suit, I was almost certain Jack had cheated on me. There was no need to torture each other anymore. I wiped away the tears I had unknowingly shed for him all night. I wanted a divorce from Jack. As for Emily, I was willing to give her one more chance! Perhaps she had only been manipulated by Rachel. 0

The next morning, Jack entered pushing a breakfast cart. He was wearing that light blue shirt I loved most, carrying a small bouquet of yellow lilies. The flower meaning: Get well soon. To me, it felt bitingly cold. “Wendy, are you feeling better?” His voice was still so gentle, but now it made me nauseous. “I bought the rice porridge you like.” I forced myself to squeeze out a smile. “Much better, just the incision still hurts a bit.” Jack set down the flowers and naturally adjusted my pillow height. This practiced feeling, as if he had done it countless times. “Where’s Emily?” I asked casually. “Oh, she went for a follow-up check. Dr. Zhang said the transplant was very successful, she’s recovering faster than expected.” I stared at him intently. He remained outwardly calm! Even now, he was still lying to me. If I hadn’t accidentally overheard Emily’s conversation with you last night, would I have been kept in the dark forever? When he leaned in close to me, a familiar perfume scent suddenly assaulted my nostrils. It was the fragrance Rachel always wore. After being around her for so many years, I couldn’t mistake it. “When did you change your cologne?” Jack visibly stiffened. Then he nonchalantly pulled away, raising his hand to rub his shirt collar. This motion fully exposed the faint red mark on the side of his neck. A hickey. In all these years, he never allowed me to kiss his neck, saying he wasn’t used to it. Later, I carefully avoided it. “I felt like I’d gotten used to the scent of the cologne you gave me before,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “I switched to a different fragrance, I think it smells nice. I’ll let you try it next time.” My gaze was fixed on his neck. That glaring mark felt like a slap across my face. No wonder he suddenly wore such strong cologne, it was to cover this up. “Is that so?” I said softly, my nails digging deep into my palm. “What brand is it? I’ve been wanting to change my perfume too.” Jack’s eyes began to dart around. “It’s just… something I bought at a regular mall. I don’t remember the name.” I almost laughed coldly. He had grown tired of our relationship of over a decade, just like he’d grown tired of that bottle of cologne I gave him. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, each beat bringing pain. The spoonful of hot porridge in my mouth, no matter how I tried to swallow, wouldn’t go down. Noticing my discomfort, he frowned slightly. “What’s wrong? Is it not to your taste? I specially went to that place you liked in South Bridge to buy it.” I suddenly gave a bitter smile. My smile made him look at me with a hint of confusion. You probably bought it out of convenience. Then, I shook my head at him. “It’s nothing, I just feel like you’re so good to me! If only it could always be like this!” He looked at me adoringly, raising his hand to stroke my head as usual. “It will be. Don’t think too much, your only job now is to rest well.” I subtly dodged that hand. That hand that had touched who knows how many people. I turned over, pulling up the blanket. “I’m tired, I want to rest. You should go check on Emily.” “Alright… you sleep for a bit then.” “Oh, could you bring me a fresh set of clothes from home later? I’m not used to the hospital gowns.” “Sure, I’ll be back soon.” That hand hovering in mid-air finally stroked my head a few times. I instantly widened my eyes, my scalp tingling. 0

When the door slammed shut, fighting the urge to vomit, I reached for the call button by the bed, summoning a nurse. When the nurse entered, I was vigorously wiping the hair Jack had touched with disinfectant wipes. I only stopped when my scalp was burning with pain. “Hello, could I see Emily Leaf’s medical report and my kidney transplant report?” I asked, forcing a weak smile. “I’m the patient’s mother.” The nurse didn’t suspect anything and gave me the two authentic hospital reports. Both were ones I, the person involved, had never seen before. The reports showed — Patient diagnosed with acute respiratory infection, otherwise normal. What a “normal” diagnosis. And my report at the end — signed by Rachel Song. I took out my phone and quickly snapped a few photos for evidence. By the time I had everything prepared, it was already evening. Jack still hadn’t returned. Home was less than 20 minutes from the hospital!! I gripped my phone tightly, my fingertips almost turning white. Where had he gone? The answer was obvious. I still masochistically dialed that familiar number. The call was answered after just a few rings. Laughter could be heard on the other end, mixed with a soft woman’s voice. “Wendy.” Jack’s voice suddenly became guilty. The background noise instantly went quiet. “Jack, when exactly are you going to bring me the clothes I asked for? I need them tonight.” My voice was frighteningly calm. “Emily was just clamoring to go out and buy some things. I lost track of time!” I stared at the ceiling, my fingertips digging into my palm. Inwardly, I laughed coldly. This one little thing I asked you to do, you still can’t manage for me now. “Didn’t Dr. Zhang say Emily needed to rest? How can she go out?” Jack was momentarily speechless. Until our daughter’s sweet voice came through. “Mom’s the best, don’t blame Dad. I was the one who asked Dad to take me out.” My nails dug deep crescents into my palm. I took a deep breath, trying hard to suppress the anger and desolation welling up inside. “Emily, don’t lie to Mom. I’ll ask you one more time, did you want to go out or did Dad make you go?” I still held a glimmer of hope for my daughter. The other end of the line suddenly went quiet. Then, Emily’s voice became shrill. “Mom, you don’t believe me now? I’m telling you, I asked Dad to take me out!! I—” “…….” One sentence was enough to shatter my illusions. Before she could finish, I abruptly hung up and threw the phone forcefully onto the bed. I lowered my head, laughing bitterly as I muttered. “Why? I gave everything for this family. Jack is one thing, but why is even my daughter the same?!” At this moment, I felt like a failure in marriage. My husband, cheating midway through. And with my best friend, no less. My daughter, now breaking my heart. If that’s how it is, I no longer hold any illusions about them. There’s no point in wasting my breath. I raised my hand and forwarded those “evidence” that didn’t quite look like evidence to my alternate social media account. Though it didn’t have many followers, it was enough to reach internet celebrity Rachel’s eyes. Along with a caption: “Shocking! Husband conspires with daughter to fake illness, tricks wife into donating kidney to mistress!”

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My husband, Damon, was a man reborn. He claimed his survival hinged on the happiness of another woman, Ivy – the designated heroine of this twisted plot. But he swore his heart belonged only to me, that he’d never betray me. *Never.* When I learned he had only three years left to live, I mustered every ounce of courage. I wanted to have a child with him, a precious piece of our love story, a future we could hold onto. The very day I found out I was pregnant, I was ambushed on my way home, snatched by kidnappers. They tortured me for three days and three nights, then dragged me onto an operating table. In my darkest, most desperate moment, I heard Damon’s voice from the doorway, mingling with the doctor’s. “Mr. King, are you really going to harvest your wife’s organs? Everyone in our circles knows how devoted you are to her. Are you truly doing this to her?” Damon’s voice was strained, laced with a barely concealed pain, but his words cut deeper than any knife: “Willow will be taken care of. Losing an organ won’t affect her life. But Ivy… if she loses an organ, she’ll fall gravely ill, even die. Once Willow fulfills her role in this plot, standing in for Ivy, I promise I’ll make it up to her a thousand times over!” The words slammed into me like a physical blow, a lightning bolt of pure, devastating truth. As the doctor walked in, I closed my eyes, consumed by despair.

“This woman is tough as nails, still fighting after three whole days! My damn legs are practically jelly, hahaha!” On the dissection table of that shady clinic, countless men came and went. They’d injected me with some kind of drug, pinning me down so I couldn’t move an inch. All I could do was lie there, enduring the mechanical, repulsive acts of those vile men. “Where’s the doctor? Didn’t they say we were supposed to harvest her organs after we were done? Where are they?” Amidst the chaos of voices, I faintly heard Damon’s voice again. “Once they’re finished, go in and take the organs, just like I told you!” The doctor’s voice trembled. “Mr. King, please, let’s just stop. Your wife has suffered enough already…” “No!” Damon’s voice was firm, unwavering. “In the original story, Ivy was first assaulted, then had her organs harvested. Every step must be followed, no exceptions!” Hearing that, my world shattered around me. Damon and I had been married for three years, our love as vibrant as ever. That very morning, when I left for the clinic alone, Damon had insisted on driving me, warning me about the ‘unsafe’ backroads. I thought he was worried. Now I know he was just making sure those monsters didn’t miss their target. Another man climbed off me. My limbs were shattered, my body completely ravaged. I was at the absolute limit of my endurance. Suddenly, a sharp pain tore through my lower abdomen, an uncontrolled spasm that ripped through me. “What the hell is this?” The doctor rushed in from the doorway, taking one look and gasping. “This… she’s *pregnant*?!” “…” The room fell silent. Even the kidnappers, who’d been laughing hysterically moments before, seemed stunned by the sight. My baby… it was gone. It had left my body. Even the animals who had relentlessly tortured me for three days fell silent. But my own heart was filled with a soul-numbing grief, so profound it left me utterly numb. Only tears streamed freely down my face. When I first learned Damon only had three years to live unless Ivy was happy, I had desperately focused on my health, drinking countless cups of vile-tasting herbal teas, all to ensure I could conceive this child so smoothly. Now, this child, who had only just arrived – I’d only found out about him a few days ago – was ripped away from me in such a brutal, horrifying way. “Why did you stop?” Damon’s voice came from outside, confused by the sudden silence. He must have thought the special drug he’d injected me with made me deaf, because he spoke without any attempt to hide his words. The doctor’s voice was shaky, almost filled with pity. “Mr. Ki-King, your wife… she…” “Enough!” Damon’s impatient voice cut him off. “Don’t tell me what she looks like now! I don’t want to hear it! It’ll kill me!” “Your wife is in a critical condition, Mr. King. I believe we should terminate the plan and provide immediate medical assistance.” the doctor advised. Damon was silent for a moment. Just as I thought his heart might finally soften, his voice returned, colder than ice. “Start the organ harvesting. Begin with the heart!” The doctor froze, dumbfounded. “The heart? Mr. King, that’s impossible! Without her heart, your wife…” “Of course I know the heart is vital! Do you think I don’t feel pain? She’s my lover!” Damon roared, his voice filled with a performative anguish. “But it *has* to be done to this extent! If Willow doesn’t take this hit for Ivy, Ivy will be on the brink of death, and then *I* will truly die!” “If I die, who will give Ivy happiness?” “Just take the heart! Ivy’s sister needs it, and the other organs must follow the plot. Once it’s all over, I’ll immediately bring people to rescue her and send her to the hospital for an artificial heart transplant.” Damon’s voice was calm, steady, as if he’d planned this all out long ago. The doctor sighed, motioning for his assistant to bring out the professional tools. My soul was trapped, screaming silently within my broken, exhausted body. But the sharp blade sliced into my chest regardless.

Damon’s plan went smoothly. I had no strength left to fight, not even a tiny bit. The doctor took my heart and left with his team. I tried with every last ounce of will, but I couldn’t move my hands, chained to the table. All I wanted was to touch my baby at the very end of my life. Even though he was no longer in my body, even though he was just a blood clot now… He was my baby! I just wanted to touch him, to tell him not to be scared. A monstrous wave of grief drowned me. My wrists strained against the restraints, leaving only raw, bloody streaks. Damon had told me before that after he was reborn, he needed to protect the story’s heroine. Only if she was happy could he continue to live. But he’d also said I was his one and only, that when it came to anything *within* our relationship, he would always be loyal to me. It was only for things *outside* the scope of our love that he would try to ensure Ivy’s happiness. I had trusted him so completely. I never imagined he would go to such lengths for Ivy. Even without a heart, it felt like a thousand knives were tearing through my chest. Just then, the door burst open with a bang. Damon appeared, frantic, his eyes red-rimmed. “Willow! My Willow, I’m so late! Oh God, your chest…” My body remained limp, showing no signs of consciousness, but he didn’t stop his performance. He clutched my hand, tightly, then barked orders at the people behind him. “Spare no expense! Find those who hurt my Willow, make them pay!” “And immediately find the world’s top specialists! Give Willow the best artificial heart! If she doesn’t live, I’ll make you all regret it!” My soul was calm, numb. Only hatred surged within my empty chest cavity now. I hated that man. I was rushed to the hospital. Just as Damon had promised, the world’s top artificial heart team began my treatment. During this time, my broken limbs and ravaged body also needed treatment. It was three months before I, barely clinging to life, was finally transferred from the ICU to a regular room. Damon stayed by my side day and night, never leaving, showering me with care. When the doctor said I would never be able to have children again, Damon teared up, his voice filled with feigned sorrow. He gripped my hand, repeating, “It’s all my fault, Willow, all my fault! I didn’t find you in time! I don’t care that you can’t have children anymore. I promise I’ll be good to you!” In the past, I would have gently told him not to shoulder all the blame. But *he* cared? What right did he have to care? Everything was *his* doing! Just seeing him made me tremble with rage. So, I pretended to sleep every day, refusing to look at him. Once my condition stabilized, more visitors began to arrive. And finally, one day, I saw the person I least wanted to see. “Damon, darling, I’ve come to see you.” It was Ivy. “I was so heartbroken to hear about Willow. You must have been so sad, unable to sleep, Damon. I brought you some ginseng soup.” Ivy held out a thermos. Damon took it. “Thank you. I’ll feed Willow first, then I’ll drink it.” “Ginseng soup is most effective when hot.” Ivy’s soft voice chimed. Damon hesitated for a moment, then relented to Ivy. Damon always said that when it came to our relationship, he was loyal only to me. He claimed that even when he occasionally helped Ivy, it was only to make her a little happier, all so he could stay with me for a few more years. But look at the way he gazed at Ivy – with such tenderness. I used to lie to myself, convincing myself he treated her well only to extend our time together. But looking at him now, who was the person he truly longed to stay with? After finishing the ginseng soup, Damon received a call from the doctor and left in a hurry. The room was suddenly empty, save for Ivy and me. Ivy smiled, pulling up a chair beside my bed, and fiddled with my IV line. “Are you awake, Willow?” I opened my eyes and stared at her, emotionless. Ivy’s smile was sickeningly sweet. “I heard you had quite the… pleasure, Willow. Served by a dozen strong men for three days and three nights. To survive that? You really have nine lives!” “Nine lives, indeed. As long as I’m alive, you’ll never be Mrs. King, will you? That must be agonizing for you, right?” I’d always known Ivy had feelings for Damon, but I’d never exposed it, hampered by the fact that Damon needed to appease her to survive. Sure enough, at my words, Ivy’s expression darkened instantly, as if I’d struck a nerve. “What’s so great about you, a woman with an artificial heart? Do you know, your heart was given to my ‘sister’ by Damon? And actually, I don’t even have a sister. I just mentioned it casually, and Damon dug out your heart for me.” I remained unmoved. My heart was already gone; whether it went to her or to a dog made no difference to me. Seeing my lack of reaction, Ivy continued, “Just two days ago, I got into Iris’s dance company. Damon introduced me.” I froze. Iris’s dance company was world-renowned, and they had plans to recruit one American dancer this year. Before the accident, they had contacted me. Even after I told them about my pregnancy plans, they hadn’t withdrawn their offer, saying they would keep the spot open for me. Dance was my dream. Even though I loved Damon so much, I had only quietly postponed this dream for the sake of having a child. How could Damon give *my* place to Ivy?! “That spot belongs to me!” I tried to sit up, but Ivy looked at me like I was the most pathetic creature on earth. She pulled out my IV line and all the other life-sustaining machines. “Willow, look at your shattered limbs and your fragile, artificial heart. What makes you think you can compete with me? Not just this spot, but Damon too, he’ll be mine. Just you wait!”

Ivy left, and Damon didn’t return. I didn’t want to die, but Ivy had disconnected all the wires of my life support. Without the machines, my life would quickly fade. I struggled, trying to press the nurse’s call button, but my broken limbs couldn’t even manage that simple movement. By the time the nurse found me during her rounds, I was once again in critical condition, barely clinging to life. My situation rapidly deteriorated. The specialists who had previously treated me had left after my condition stabilized, and the doctors at this hospital, despite their best efforts, couldn’t maintain my vital signs. “Where’s Mr. King? Get him here now! The situation is critical, he needs to sign the critical illness notice and contact the specialists!” “And we can only begin rescue efforts once a family member signs and acknowledges the risks!” “Mr. King seemed to be dropping off Ms. Ivy earlier. Ms. Ivy said it was hard to get a cab from there, so I assume Mr. King drove her himself.” Hearing the conversation outside the room, my mind went blank. I didn’t want to die. I struggled, “Call him, tell him to come back…” The doctors seemed to realize. “Quick, call him!” Only my phone had Damon’s number, so they used it to dial. The call was answered quickly, but after the doctor explained my situation, Damon’s voice was utterly devoid of emotion. “I’m taking Ivy home right now. I don’t have time to come back and sign anything.” The doctors were stunned. Taking a casual friend home versus his wife’s life – wasn’t the choice obvious? “Mr. King, you might not have heard clearly. Someone just stopped the machines. Your wife’s artificial heart is failing, and the risk is extremely high. If we don’t act now, she could die at any moment! We need the contact information for the specialists you had before, and you need to come back! This is about your wife’s life!” Damon’s impatience grew even more obvious. “Stop playing games with Willow! Ivy just left her room, and she was perfectly fine. How could she suddenly be critically ill?” “And when Ivy came out, she even had two slaps on her face! She had enough strength to *hit* someone, but couldn’t reconnect her own life support? Give the phone to Willow.” The doctor hesitated, then placed the phone near me. I barely had the strength to speak. “Damon… save me…” Silence stretched on the other end of the line. It lasted so long that I thought Damon had heard the weakness in my voice. But when he finally spoke, it was a condemnation. “That’s a terrible act, Willow. I know you’re jealous. Why I’m good to Ivy… if others don’t know, how can *you* not? I’m doing this so we can stay together for even longer, you understand, don’t you?” “No… it’s not… I really…” “Stop playing games, Willow. Be good. I’ll come back to you once I’ve dropped Ivy off. She’s a girl, it’s not safe for her to walk alone at night. Wait for me, I’ll be back soon.” I was bewildered, helpless, my heart turning to ashes. Why would he misunderstand me? In the past, when he was good to Ivy, had I ever been jealous? I was truly dying… “Damon!” The urgent desire to live made me call out his name, stopping him from hanging up. “Please come back, please save me. I need you right now… please…” Tears streamed down my face. My desperate plea, stripping away all dignity, only bought me less than five seconds of silence from Damon. Suddenly, Ivy’s voice came through the phone. “I’m sorry, Damon. Maybe I should just go home by myself. I feel so bad that Willow misunderstood and put you in such a difficult position. Just pull over, I can walk… it’s fine, nothing bad will happen in broad daylight.” Damon’s voice filled with tenderness. “Just sit still, don’t move when the car hasn’t stopped… Willow, be good. I know you’re fine. I’ll be back to you very soon, just half an hour.” Damon hung up, leaving me and a silent resuscitation room. I wanted to live, but he thought I just wanted his company? I truly didn’t want to die, but what could I do now? Overwhelmed by anger and despair, I suddenly coughed violently. All the machines attached to me shrieked frantically. The medical staff rushed over. Even without a signed consent, they began resuscitation efforts. But what was the use? My artificial heart was failing. I was dying. I gripped one of the doctor’s hands. “Tell Damon…” Damon had just arrived at Ivy’s house when a sudden chill ran through him, as if he’d lost something incredibly important. And the chill deepened. Ivy was showing Damon her dance outfits. “For the Iris company performance, I’ve got a few options. Which one do you think looks best, Damon?” Damon barely glanced at them. The growing dread made him restless. He suddenly had an overwhelming urge to see Willow. He didn’t know why, just a sudden, urgent need to see her. Just then, his phone rang. It was a doctor from the hospital. “Mr. King, I’m sorry to inform you. Your wife’s artificial heart just failed. Resuscitation efforts were unsuccessful. She has passed away.” Damon shot to his feet, his face etched with disbelief. “What did you say?!” Ivy jumped, flinching back. “Damon? What’s wrong?” Damon’s fear exploded. He felt it was a lie, yet an unsettling premonition gnawed at him.

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I was playing basketball with Scarlett, the school’s infamous rich girl, when I accidentally broke her Cartier watch. My boyfriend, Justin, carefully cradled her wrist, then turned to me and snapped, “How could you be so careless?! Can you even afford to pay for that?!” It’s just a Cartier, right? I’ve got a drawer full of Vacheron Constantins and Rolexes at home, and I’ve never seen him look at me with that much concern. The student council organized a women’s basketball game. While trying to steal the ball from Scarlett, my elbow hit something hard. It’s impossible to avoid bumps and scrapes in a game, so I didn’t think much of it. But then she screamed, “Stop! Hazel, you broke my watch!” It was just a watch. Why was she so dramatic? The game was heating up, and our team was about to win. I really didn’t want to stop. “I’m sorry, I’ll pay for it. Can we talk about this later? Let’s just finish the game first.” Scarlett pulled a dirty move, snatching the ball from my hands and throwing it out of bounds. The game was forced to stop. I wasn’t happy about it. She held her head high. “Hazel, this is a Cartier.” I glanced at it. I’m not really into watches and rarely wear them. I just knew it was a Cartier, but I had no idea about the series or how much it cost. It definitely wasn’t an antique, so it probably just cost several tens of thousands of dollars. Fixing the crystal wouldn’t cost much. There was no need for her to get so worked up. Everyone gathered around. “Oh my God, Scarlett, what are you going to do?” “The watch crystal is shattered like this, seriously, it makes my heart ache just looking at it!” Seeing everyone looking so distressed, I asked, “What? Is this watch really expensive?” Someone who knew their stuff said, “Of course! It’s a Blue Balloon!” Scarlett shoved her wrist in front of me. “Over forty thousand!” Everyone gasped. That was a bit different from the several hundred thousand I’d imagined. At that price point, fixing the crystal would probably only be a thousand or two. She looked impatient. “I have to send this watch to the boutique, and then they’ll have to send it to Switzerland for repairs. It’ll take at least a month, back and forth!” How annoying. I said, “I’ll just get you a new one.” I just wondered if she’d like a Vacheron Constantin. My parents’ gifts to me usually start at tens of thousands of dollars and up, but I don’t like wearing watches, so I just store them at home. I thought it would just be a spare one for her. “A new one?” Scarlett scoffed. “This isn’t some knock-off! My dad brought it back from Switzerland for me!” I wasn’t planning on getting her a fake one anyway. What was wrong with this person? I’d heard she had some money. She swapped between LV and Chanel bags daily and often treated classmates to coffee. But my family wasn’t exactly struggling either. That new building at school? My dad donated it. I asked her, “So, what do you want to do?” My boyfriend had just gone to get me water and was only returning now. After figuring out what happened, he looked at me reproachfully. “How could you be so careless?!” How was I supposed to know someone would wear a watch while playing basketball?! Doesn’t it feel uncomfortable? Doesn’t it affect your game? “Hazel, look, can you even afford to pay for this?!” Justin had never said such harsh words to me before. He carefully held Scarlett’s wrist, as if it were the most precious thing in the world. It was just a stupid watch. My elbow still hurt. “So, Scarlett, what do you want to do? How much do I owe you?” She still looked heartbroken. “It has to go to the store first, then we’ll see.” Fine. “Okay, then just show me the receipt when you get it, and I’ll transfer the money.” That seemed like a pretty reasonable solution. After all that drama, I didn’t feel like playing anymore. Everyone else had lost their enthusiasm for the game too and just stood around chattering. “Damn, how can Hazel be so calm? That’s at least a few thousand, right? It would take months of saving every penny to pay that back.” “She probably has no idea how much it costs to replace the crystal! She probably thinks it’s just putting on a piece of glass.” I usually kept a low profile at school. I never flaunted my wealth. My clothes and dorm supplies were very simple. Even though they were expensive, they didn’t have big logos, so most people couldn’t tell what brand they were. In a situation like this, I couldn’t exactly show them my bank account balance and shout, ‘I’m rich!’ Whatever. I couldn’t be bothered with them. I picked up my stuff and left the basketball court.

Justin caught up to me and put an arm around my shoulder. “Hazel, are you mad?” It would be a lie to say I wasn’t. He hadn’t considered my feelings at all. “Don’t be mad, babe. I did that for you. Didn’t you see me winking at you just now?” I actually hadn’t noticed. “I talked to you like that to shut Scarlett up. If I criticized you, she’d be too embarrassed to keep going.” Is that how it works? Why did it feel a bit off? “And I kept emphasizing that you couldn’t afford it. I thought Scarlett would back down, but I had no idea you’d be so silly, you totally missed my point! You immediately agreed to pay her!” I just thought it wasn’t that much money. My housekeeper spends more than that on groceries every day. There was no need to stand there arguing about it. “Hazel, I’ll pay half for you.” I waved my hand. “No need.” “We’re a couple. If we get married later, it’ll be shared assets. Half and half, perfect.” He took my hand, his smile sweet. So, he was being so calculating because he was planning our future. How nice. I leaned my head on his shoulder. “Do we have any plans for tomorrow?” Tomorrow was Valentine’s Day, and my family didn’t know I was dating. My brother, Declan, had said we should hang out, since we were both single, and wanted to take me out. He sighed. “Hazel, I have to tutor students tomorrow.” Oh, I had hoped he could meet my brother. I felt a little disappointed. But his eyes were firm. “It’s all for our future.” Justin had always been hardworking. As his girlfriend, I should support him. “Okay… fine.”

Early on Valentine’s Day, Justin asked me to come downstairs. He held a bouquet of red roses and a pretty gift bag. As soon as I came down, he gave me a big hug. “Happy Valentine’s Day, babe. Even though I can’t be with you, we still need to have our moment!” I thought I wouldn’t see him at all today. Turns out he’d prepared a gift for me. After chatting for a bit, he left. I went upstairs happily and only opened the gift in my dorm room. It was a YSL gift set. My roommates exclaimed, “Wow! Hazel! Your boyfriend is so good to you!” “That must have cost a lot! No wonder your boyfriend’s been busy lately, he was earning money to buy you a gift.” He’d given me what he thought was the best. I was very satisfied. Chloe, one of my roommates, a beauty blogger with a keen eye, looked at the gift box but didn’t say anything. Seeing her silence, the other two roommates, afraid of putting their foot in their mouth, also kept quiet. I asked, “Chloe, is there a problem?” She picked up a lipstick and looked at it, a bit hesitant. “I can’t quite tell right now. Let me have my friend take a look.” My heart dropped. I’d never encountered fakes before, nor paid attention to the differences between real and fake. But if Chloe said that, it was almost certainly fake. She was just trying to save my feelings by saying she’d have a friend look at it. My roommates tried to comfort me. “Oh, Hazel, maybe Justin just doesn’t know brands and got scammed.” “Yeah, how would guys know what’s real and what’s fake?” That made sense too. I sent Justin a message: [Where did you buy this gift set?] He replied a few minutes later: [From the official online store.] He even sent me a screenshot of the purchase history from the official store. Could you buy fakes from an official store? Or had Chloe really misjudged it? Justin: [What’s wrong, babe? Don’t you like it?] Me: [No, it’s fine. I love it.] Justin: [Glad you like it. I’m off to tutor students now. We’ll talk later.] My brother took me to an amusement park, but my mind kept wandering. It wasn’t until Chloe sent me a message: [Fake.] She sent several pictures showing the differences between the authentic product and the fake. [Justin most likely bought it on Wish.] She sent a link to a YSL gift set that cost just over a hundred dollars. The details in the buyer’s photos were identical to mine. [Hazel, if he tells the truth, maybe he just didn’t know and thought YSL was that price. But if he lied to you, you’re better off without a guy like that.] I didn’t know what to say. I asked her, [Can you buy fakes from an official online store?] [Let’s put it this way: this set is an obvious fake at first glance. Even if an official store sold fakes, they’d only fake the quality, making it hard to notice.] But Justin really did buy a gift set from the official store. I sent the screenshot to Chloe. She replied, [What if that official store gift set wasn’t meant for you at all?] She was right. What if Justin bought two sets—one from Wish and one from the official store—and gave one to me and the other to someone else? That would make sense. But how could that be? How could Justin do something so despicable? We’d been dating for over a year, and our relationship had always been good. He surely wouldn’t do that to me. Just as I was thinking this, I saw a familiar figure in the crowd. It looked like Justin. Wasn’t he supposed to be tutoring students? Why would he be here?

I was about to go after him when my brother came back with ice cream. Seeing my hurried expression, he asked, “What’s wrong?” “I think I saw a friend.” In the blink of an eye, that figure disappeared into the crowd. I licked my ice cream and sent Justin a message: [Where are you?] He replied half an hour later: [Tutoring a student.] As if to prove it, he sent another picture: a child bent over a desk writing. [What’s wrong, babe? Missing me? How about I come find you after my class?] Once the seed of doubt is planted, it easily takes root and grows. I suddenly wanted to video call him. But with my brother next to me, I had to drop the idea. After my brother politely declined the nth girl asking for his number, he finally had time to pay attention to me. “Hazel, you seem a bit down.” “Yeah.” “Is it because you didn’t get a Valentine’s Day gift?” I shook my head. My brother didn’t care what I was thinking. He snapped his fingers. Then, a group of exaggeratedly dressed “princes” seemed to pop out of nowhere and surrounded me. “Pick whichever ones you like most. I’ll have them hang out with you.” My brother always did this crazy stuff. How was I supposed to handle ten or so of them? “Oh, bro, I…” My brother’s jaw dropped. “What?! You want all of them?!” When did I say that? He waved his hand. “Fine, kids make choices, but we adults have it all.” I was a bit speechless. “Forget it, bro. Let’s just go get some food.” The princes were all handsome, but I had a boyfriend. It wouldn’t be right to do that. But very soon, I changed my mind. Not long after we got in the car, Chloe sent me another message. [Hazel, weren’t you with Justin today?] [He’s busy tutoring students. I’m out with my brother.] But then she sent me a photo. It was Justin and Scarlett playing the claw machine together. The location was the amusement park I was currently in. This amusement park wasn’t cheap. Other places might be a dollar a game, but here it was ten dollars for a single coin, and one try cost twenty dollars. Scarlett was already holding several stuffed animals. With Justin’s skill, he probably wouldn’t even get one in ten tries. He bought me a hundred-dollar gift set on Wish and tried to fool me with a screenshot of an official store purchase! But he was spending hundreds, maybe even a thousand, dollars at the amusement park playing the claw machine for Scarlett! Chloe asked me, [Hazel, do you want to come over now? I can keep an eye on him for you.] [No, Chloe, you go hang out with your boyfriend. I’ll handle this myself.] I couldn’t take it anymore. I called Justin directly. One ring, two rings, three… He didn’t pick up until the fifth! “Hazel, what are you doing? I’m in class! The student’s parents are right here!” I took a deep breath, trying my best to control my emotions. “Video call me.” “I’m really busy here. I’m tired after a full day of teaching. Don’t be unreasonable, okay?!” His tone was incredibly impatient. This time, he didn’t even bother making up a lie. “Am I being unreasonable, or do you just have a guilty conscience?” He snapped, furious, “Hazel, what do you mean by that? I’ve been working so hard for our future, and now you’re doubting me?!” He kept saying it was all for our future! But my future wasn’t going to come from him sucking up to some rich girl! I hung up, sent him the link and the photo, and left a message: [We’re over.] Then I blocked and deleted all his contacts. When did he start seeing Scarlett? That authentic YSL gift set must have been for Scarlett too. Scarlett, that kind of rich girl, so proud, claiming she never bought second-hand goods, despising vintage and antiques. But a person like that actually liked stealing other people’s boyfriends?

After dinner, my brother drove me back to school. I hadn’t walked more than a few steps when a bank text came in. My brother had transferred seventy-five thousand dollars to me. [Hazel, bro sent you some spending money. Spending makes you happy~] My smile hadn’t even fully formed when I heard a loud shout from behind me. “Hazel! I never thought you’d be such a gold-digger!” It was Justin. I didn’t have a good look on my face when I saw him. I just wanted to walk away quickly. But he wouldn’t let up, grabbing my arm. “I saw you get out of that Maybach! Who were you out with today?!” The pot calling the kettle black? Fine, I’ll clear things up with him. “You weren’t tutoring anyone today at all!” He took a deep breath. “Yes, I was out with Scarlett. I thought if I made her happy, she wouldn’t pursue the watch thing.” It was astounding he could even come up with such a ridiculous excuse. Of all days, why Valentine’s Day? Didn’t he know what day Valentine’s Day was? Did he really think I was an idiot? He softened his voice. “Hazel, I did it for you.” I sneered. “What does that have to do with me? Did I force you to pay her back? Did I force you to go to the amusement park with her? Did I force you to play the claw game with her?” My sudden outburst left him speechless. “Justin, next time you try to pass the blame, could you at least come up with a better excuse?” I stepped back, creating distance between us. But he closed in again, took my hand, and looked at me with a sickly sweet look. “Hazel, I like you.” I felt a little sick. “This was really unavoidable, you know. I’m a senior, about to enter the professional world. I just wanted to find a good internship.” “Scarlett’s family owns a company. I thought maybe she could…” I understood everything. “Hazel, love without material things is like a pile of loose sand; it’ll scatter without a breeze. I just wanted to give you a better life.” Great, quoting clichés now. He’d really mastered that line. I laughed, but it was out of anger. “Justin, stop lying to yourself. You just wanted to take a shortcut. Using ‘giving me a better life’ as an excuse is just to cover up your guilty conscience and despicable actions.” “We’re done. I can’t accept your Wish ‘grand gift.’ I’ll return it tomorrow.” My parents had given me the best since I was little. I wasn’t going to degrade myself like this. That stuff would probably give me a rash, right? “I sent you the screenshot! Who said it was bought on Wish? Was it your roommate? She’s just jealous!” He suddenly raised his voice, glaring angrily, completely different from his usual gentle, amiable self. As the saying goes, the louder they get, the emptier their words sound. He just assumed I didn’t know much about brands and thought I’d be easy to fool. Laughable. What was Chloe jealous of, a hundred-dollar item? She was swamped with gifts from brands all the time. What would she be jealous of? “You gave the authentic official store gift set to Scarlett, didn’t you? Buying fakes and then using the official store’s screenshot to trick me—only you could think of that.” One authentic gift set to charm two people. How ‘resourceful.’ Justin panicked. “You can’t take back a gift once it’s given!” I shrugged. “Oh, then I’ll throw it in the trash.” “Transfer me the money! Nineteen dollars!” What a cheapskate! How could he even say that?! It was just nineteen dollars. Normally, I wouldn’t bother arguing with anyone over that. But I couldn’t stand this insult! I sneered. “Did you forget to buy shipping insurance, perhaps?” His expression froze. Damn! I hit the nail on the head! “I’ll have your roommate return it to you tomorrow. As for me transferring money, no way.” He pointed at my nose and yelled, spit flying in my face. “Hazel, you really are a gold-digger! And you’re cheap and poor!” “You want me to buy you something from an official store? Look at yourself, do you even deserve it?!” So, it wasn’t that he didn’t have money. He just thought I only deserved a nineteen-dollar gift? I looked down at myself. A custom-made bag worth over thirty thousand dollars, shoes worth eight or nine thousand… Everything I was wearing probably added up to a nice condo in a major city. How did I not deserve it? “Scarlett wouldn’t even let you carry her shoes, she’d be too embarrassed!” My eyes stung. I never thought he’d see me as cheap goods, not even a fraction as good as Scarlett. If I kept arguing with him, I’d just burst into tears. I turned and walked away. He continued to babble behind me. “Hazel! No one will ever treat you better than me! They’re just playing with you! Do you really think anyone will genuinely like you?!” “Don’t expect me to beg you to get back together this time! Scarlett has already agreed to be with me! You’ll regret missing out on me, you’ll see!” “So what if you rode in a Maybach? I’ll just wait for you to be abandoned!” I sped up my pace. If he wasn’t ashamed, I certainly was.

Disappointed in love, I went on a shopping spree. My brother really does understand women. Spending money genuinely makes you happy. After returning to my dorm, I even bought gifts for my roommates. Chloe gasped, holding a new Dior bag, unable to put it down. “Girl, where did you make a fortune?” I smiled, saying nothing. The main reason was that Chloe had my back. When she heard I’d been tricked by a scumbag, she recorded a video about the absurd situation and shared it with her followers. She didn’t name names or reveal too many details. But her followers knew she was a student at University A. So now everyone was guessing who the cheating, super cheap scumbag at University A was. Some even posted questions on the campus gossip page. Anyway, Justin would have to keep a low profile for a while. Otherwise, he might accidentally reveal his true colors. … Friday afternoon, I went to a student council meeting. Before I even entered, I heard people chattering inside. “…She’s just come into money somehow, buying all those bags to give away. I heard her ex-boyfriend Justin spilling details, saying she was two-timing, hooking up with a rich kid on the side but also unwilling to let go of her ex, a real potential catch.” That sounded exactly like something Justin would say. Calling himself a potential catch, how shameless. “Even if a rich kid gave her bags, she wouldn’t flaunt them by giving them to others, right? I bet they’re knock-offs…” “Exactly! And last time on the court, she said she’d pay Scarlett for a new watch. Oh my God, that’s a Cartier, not some dollar store cheapie!” I was thoroughly enjoying eavesdropping when someone suddenly tapped my shoulder. Just as I was about to yelp, that person covered my mouth. I turned my head; it was Liam, the student council president. He gestured for me to be quiet, then let go of me and stood by the door, listening in with me. Wasn’t this guy always cold, distant, and perfectly put-together? Why was he doing something like this with me? The people inside kept repeating the same things, and I quickly got bored. Liam leaned close to my ear. “Done listening?”

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