Author: Momo Chan

1 When it came time to exchange rings, my best friend Cynthia walked up the aisle wearing a stunning white bridal gown, a sweet smile playing on her lips. Right in front of a room packed with guests, my fiance, Carter, slid my wedding ring onto her ring finger. My eyes burned as I demanded an explanation. The two of them looked at each other and burst out laughing at the exact same time. Cynthia laughed so hard she had to bend over. “Grace, Carter and I made a bet last night.” “He said you would definitely notice before the ceremony that the welcome sign had our photo instead of yours.” “I told him you trusted us way too much to ever check.” She flashed the diamond ring on her hand. “Now Carter lost the bet.” “And according to our deal, this entire wedding belongs to me.” Carter wrapped an arm around her waist, his tone entirely casual. “It is just letting Cynthia be the bride for a single day.” “The dress, venue, and schedule are already paid for anyway, so it would be a total waste not to use them.” “We can just hold another wedding for you next month, so do not be such a killjoy.” They had always loved using me as a bargaining chip in their little games. During our engagement, Carter lost a bet, so the engagement ring was placed on Cynthia’s finger first. When we took our wedding photos, he lost another bet, and ended up shooting the winter snow set I had dreamed about for years alongside Cynthia instead. Even the master bedroom in our new home had been decorated according to Cynthia’s taste all because of a lost wager. Every time I felt hurt, they would brush it off with a laugh, asking why I was taking a silly bet so seriously. Only today did the bitter truth finally hit me. To them, my wedding, my love, and my entire life were nothing more than cheap tokens they could toss onto a gambling table whenever they pleased. I looked at Carter, a sudden sense of detachment washing over me. When I spoke, my voice was eerily calm. “Since you are giving her the wedding, you might as well go with her.” I turned around, ready to walk away. Carter reached out and grabbed my wrist firmly. “Grace, that is enough.” “All our family and friends are right here. Do you really have to throw a tantrum and make a scene in front of everyone?” I ripped my arm out of his grip. “Am I the one making a scene?” “Today was supposed to be my wedding!” Carter scowled, his patience clearly wearing thin. “I already told you, Cynthia is just experiencing it for one day.” “After today, nothing between us changes.” “Are you really going to break up over a meaningless ceremony?” He paused, a mocking smirk appearing on his face as if he just remembered something. “You said you were done with us last month too.” “In the end, didn’t you turn around and buy Cynthia a birthday cake yourself?” Cynthia giggled softly beside him. “Grace, every time you lose your temper, you threaten to cut us off.” “And within two days, you always come crawling back.” She twirled the ring on her finger, giving me a knowing look. “This time, I bet two days.” “Carter, do you dare to bet against me?” Carter looked down at her. “What are the stakes?” “Just bet on how long it takes for Grace to come running back.” “If she begs for your forgiveness within two days, you give me the vanity table in the master bedroom.” Carter did not hesitate for a second. “Deal.” “She will not even last a day.” Right in front of my face, the two of them started betting on me yet again. It was as if my declaration of breaking up was just another entertaining round in their favorite game. I looked Carter dead in the eye. “You are so sure I will come back?” Carter kept his voice light and confident. “We have been together for six years.” “You spent an entire year planning this wedding just to marry me.” “You personally booked the hall, picked the dress, and invited every guest.” “Grace, could you really bear to walk away from me?” He knew the old me far too well. That was why he dared to push my boundaries time and after time. Because no matter who won or lost their little wagers, I was always the one left behind to pick up the broken pieces. When Cynthia ruined my engagement dress, I was the one who reordered a new one. When she tore up a photo of Carter and me, I was the one who smiled and said it did not matter. Even when she redecorated our home to fit her style, I ended up apologizing to Carter for arguing over furniture. It was not that they did not know I would be hurt. They were simply certain that I would never leave. A young man from the audience stepped up, offering a casual smile. “Come on, sis, do not take it so seriously.” “Carter and Cynthia have similar personalities, they are just playing around like they always do.” “Besides, Cynthia is anti marriage, so she is never getting married for real.” “Letting her experience a wedding once is just helping her fulfill a dream.” “Calling off a marriage over something so small makes you look a bit petty.” One voice followed another. Everyone in the room was urging me to be generous. Not a single person asked if I was actually willing to give away my own wedding. Carter’s mother walked up from the main table, taking Cynthia’s hands into hers with a look of utter satisfaction. “You know, this ring looks much better on Cynthia than it ever did on Grace.” Cynthia acted sweet, leaning in close. “Auntie, please do not say that.” “Grace will be heartbroken if she hears you.” Mrs. Prescott scoffed, glancing sideways at me. “She is about to enter the Prescott family. If she cannot handle a little joke, how is she supposed to be my daughter in law?” She patted Cynthia’s hand affectionately. “Honestly, I have always preferred you.” “You are lively and know how to make people happy.” “Unlike some people who have to fight over every little detail and ruin the mood over nothing.” Mr. Prescott approached with a champagne glass in hand. “Since Carter lost the bet, he should honor it.” “A man must keep his word.” “Throwing another ceremony for Grace next month is no big deal.” I turned my gaze to him. “So in your eyes, a wedding can just be handed out to whoever?” Mr. Prescott frowned in displeasure. “It is merely a ceremony.” “As long as Carter is willing to marry you in the end, what else could you possibly complain about?” “And to be completely frank.” “If Cynthia were not against marriage, we would much rather have Carter marry her.” The entire hall fell dead silent. Carter finally noticed the coldness in my eyes. He cut his father off with a frown. “Dad, why are you bringing that up today?” He turned to me, his tone softer. “My parents just like Cynthia because she is bubbly.” “Do not take everything so personally.” I suddenly let out a faint laugh. As long as the words hurt me, they could always be brushed off as a harmless joke. Cynthia wrapped her arm tightly around Carter’s. “Alright, let us not fight on my account.” “Grace, since you said you are giving the wedding to me, just let me finish the rest of the schedule.” She glanced at my white gown, smiling sweetly. “After all, you get to have another one next month anyway.” I did not bother arguing anymore. I simply pulled out my phone and dialed the venue manager. “The bride for today’s wedding has been changed unexpectedly.” “I refuse to pay the remaining balance.” The phone went silent for a few seconds. The manager spoke with hesitation. “Miss Shen, didn’t you know?” “A month ago, Mr. Prescott came over with Miss Tang and modified the contract.” “The bride’s name on the official paperwork was changed to Miss Tang weeks ago.” My hand gripped the phone so tightly my knuckles turned white. “A month ago?” “Yes.” “Miss Tang personally confirmed the banquet menu and stage decorations.” “Mr. Prescott assured us that all changes were approved by you.” I raised my head to look at the couple standing on stage. So this so called bet made last night was something they had carefully orchestrated a whole month ago. I forced down the tremor in my voice and continued asking. “What about the final payment?” The manager replied swiftly. “It was cleared last night.” “Mr. Prescott transferred six hundred and eighty thousand dollars from your joint wedding account.” I snapped open my mobile banking app. The balance read three dollars and seventy cents. That six hundred and eighty thousand dollars represented every single cent I had saved over five years of hard work. I had planned to use whatever remained after the wedding to launch my own interior design studio. Carter noticed my screen and finally walked over. “The money is already spent, and canceling now will not get you a refund.” I stared at him, my gaze burning with quiet fury. “Who gave you permission to touch my money without asking me?” Carter answered as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “That money was set aside for a wedding anyway.” “The wedding is happening as planned, so the money was not wasted.” Cynthia leaned against his shoulder, gently twisting the diamond ring on her finger. “Grace, didn’t you just say you were gifting me the wedding?” “Since it is a gift, the costs are obviously included.” Watching them play off each other, the rage inside me suddenly evaporated into nothingness. They did not just treat my wedding as a cheap game. They emptied my life savings just so Cynthia could play the glowing bride with my fiance. The moment I stepped off the stage, my mother pushed through the crowd and grabbed my hand tightly. “Sweetheart, what is going on?” My parents had been sitting at the table closest to the exit. They were the only relatives from my side who attended. My relatives back home had all wanted to come, but Mrs. Prescott claimed small town people lacked manners and would embarrass their family. Carter had agreed, telling me we could just host a casual dinner in my hometown later instead of bringing a crowd. So my parents had taken a grueling fifteen hour train ride alone to see their daughter get married. My mother wore a simple dress that did not quite fit, her own hand stitching visible where she had taken in the waist. My father wore a corsage labeled Father of the Bride that had been crushed in the crowd, yet he refused to take it off. Until they saw Cynthia wearing my gown and my ring. My father walked right up to Carter. “Take off that ring and apologize to my daughter.” Carter’s expression darkened slightly. “Sir, it is just a game.” “Cynthia is just standing in for Grace today. After this, I am still going to register our marriage.” My father froze for a moment. “You are having a wedding with her, but making my daughter sign a piece of paper in secret?” “What does that make my daughter?” Carter knit his brows in annoyance. “We always joke around like this. Grace never cared before.” My mother trembled with rage. “Just because she was patient does not mean you get to walk all over her!” In her panic, her local accent slipped out, her voice rising in pitch. Mrs. Prescott immediately scowled. “Lower your voice, please.” “This is not a farmers market back in your village.” “The guests here today are all high profile clients of our family business. Shouting like that makes us all look like a joke!” Quiet murmurs circulated through the surrounding tables. “Uncultured country folks, honestly.” My mother’s face turned bright red. She had only stepped forward to stand up for her child, but now she nervously pulled her hands back, her voice dropping into a ashamed whisper. “I am not trying to make a scene.” “I just care about my daughter.” A sharp sting hit the back of my eyes. She had done absolutely nothing wrong, yet she felt forced to explain herself to the people insulting her. Carter interrupted impatiently. “Today’s venue goes to Cynthia.” “Next month, I will come to your hometown and throw a casual reception.” “All your local relatives can come then, which is more than enough respect for Grace.” My father slowly lifted his head. “Give her a million dollar wedding here, and toss my daughter a few cheap tables in the countryside to brush her off?” Carter’s face looked sour. “I already promised a makeup event. What more could you possibly want?” Cynthia held up her heavy dress train and walked over, reaching out affectionately to grab my mother’s arm. “Auntie, a wedding is just a venue, isn’t it all the same?” “It was not easy for you two to travel all this way.” She pointed to a corner stacked with gift boxes. “Take a few extra boxes of wedding favors home later to share with your neighbors, so the trip is not a total waste.” My mother yanked her hand back as if she had been burned. My father snatched the red corsage off his chest and slammed it heavily onto the table. “My family may be poor.” “But we are not so broke that we need to trade our daughter’s dignity for a few boxes of candy!” Cynthia’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. “Sir, I was only trying to be nice.” Carter stepped in front of her without a second thought. “Enough.” “Cynthia was being thoughtful. Do not be so ungrateful.” My father stared at him quietly. “When you knelt in front of us years ago, you swore you would never let Grace suffer a single tear.” Carter shifted his gaze away, unable to meet my father’s eyes. My father asked no more questions. He turned around, gently wiping away the tears on my cheeks, his voice sounding years older in an instant. “Grace, your dad was wrong about him.” “We are not doing this marriage. Mom and Dad are taking you home.” My tears finally overflowed. A room full of wealthy guests had been pressuring me to endure the disrespect. Only my parents, who had been humiliated and looked down upon, stood firmly in front of me to block the storm. I pulled off my veil and held one of their hands in each of mine. “Okay.” “Let us go home.” Behind us, Carter suddenly let out a cold laugh. “Since she insists on walking out, let us make another bet.” Cynthia instantly perked up. “I bet Grace will not last three days before bringing her parents back to apologize to you.” Carter stared at my retreating back, his tone absolute. “She will not even need three days.” “By this afternoon, she will soften up and beg me to sign the marriage license.” Cynthia giggled. “And what are the stakes?” “If she does not apologize to me today, the apartment on the south side is yours.” “Deal.” Their laughter echoed from behind. Even at this very moment, they still viewed my departure as nothing more than a laughable wager. I did not look back. As we walked out of the venue, my father asked softly, “Sweetheart, do you really not regret this?” I looked at the welcome sign displaying Carter and Cynthia standing side by side. Then I squeezed my parents’ hands tightly. “My only regret is not seeing through them sooner.” Not only that, I was about to give Carter a grand gift of his own. Since he loved betting so much, I wanted to see if he could afford to lose this time. At three in the afternoon, a reminder popped up on my phone. Your appointment for marriage registration is scheduled for today at 4:20 PM. Please bring valid identification and arrive on time. Immediately after, Carter sent a screenshot of the appointment confirmation. “I am giving you an way out.” “Show up at the courthouse before four, and I will overlook the scene you caused today. We can register the marriage as planned.” A voice message from Carter followed right after. “Though before we sign, you must apologize to my parents.” “And to Cynthia too.” “She was humiliated publicly by you and your parents today and has been crying for hours.” “As long as you sincerely admit your mistake, we can put this behind us.” I calmly typed back two words. “Sounds good.” The group chat went silent for a second. Soon, Carter tagged Cynthia in the group. “I won.” Cynthia sent a reluctant emoji. “A deal is a deal.” “When you guys go on your honeymoon, I am coming along.” Carter promptly posted a screenshot of a newly booked flight ticket. “Ticket is already booked for you.” It turned out that even the honeymoon I had looked forward to for months had been handed out as a prize on their gambling table. At four fifteen, I arrived at the courthouse right on schedule. Carter was standing outside the main entrance. Seeing me walk up, the tension on his face finally relaxed into a smug smile. “Good to see you came to your senses.” “My parents and Cynthia are waiting back at the hotel.” “Once we sign the papers, I will take you back there to apologize.” He reached his hand out toward me. “Hand over your ID.” I did not move an inch. The next second, two police officers in uniform stepped out from behind me. “Mr. Carter Prescott?” “We received a report accusing you of unauthorized access to a private account and transferring six hundred and eighty thousand dollars without permission.” The smile on Carter’s face froze instantly. “What unauthorized access?” “That was our joint wedding fund!” I pulled out the bank statements and the venue contract. “The account is registered under my name alone, and every single dollar came from my personal income.” “You stole my payment password while I was asleep and impersonated me to authorize the payment to the venue.” “The hotel surveillance footage, transfer records, and chat evidence have all been handed over to the police.” An officer stepped forward, snapping silver handcuffs around his wrists. Carter finally panicked. “Grace! Didn’t you come here to sign the marriage license with me?” I looked at his pale face, offering a subtle, calm smile. “No.” “I came to send you to jail.”

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Twins born with a cruel fate: Peyton deaf, I mute. Early on, our family pursued treatments, but Peyton’s loud tears always drew comfort while my silence was branded coldness. Years passed; Peyton received annual top-tier hearing aids, regaining her hearing. I remained an overlooked introvert. Graduation brought Zach home. Watching Peyton chatter in our parents’ arms, Zach murmured, “So that’s your voice. Lovely.” Parents ignored me, scolding instead: “She never speaks. Zach, you have it tough.” Peyton smiled. “Talk to me whenever you want her voice.” Zach began visiting under pretext of hearing me. He received her nightly voice messages, her comfort when low. His birthday looped her recorded song. I confronted him in sign; he shoved me. “Piper, drop the act! You lied about being mute!” Parents joined in: “Pity Peyton, not fake silence for attention!” Mother’s slap landed. Clarity struck: in their neglect, they’d forgotten I was truly mute. 1 I held my burning cheek in silence, neither crying nor moving. Seeing me stare at him, Zach signed frantically with his hands. “What, did that slap make you stupid?” “Are you going to pretend you are deaf now too, so everyone pampers you like your sister?” “Piper, I never realized you were so manipulative.” His fingers moved with lightning speed, practiced and fluent. When Zach first pursued me in college, he chased me relentlessly. Knowing I was mute, he never looked down on me. Instead, he spent an entire month learning sign language just so he could understand what I wanted to say. The very first sentence he signed to me was: “Piper, will you let me be your voice?” From then on, Zach was always by my side, acting as my translator. He encouraged me to make friends, to travel, and to see the beauty of the world. Yet the sincerity of our past love had now transformed into sharp daggers aimed at my heart. He kept using sign language to mock me. In his eyes, I was merely a manipulative woman who lied about being mute just to steal attention from her sister. Perhaps his hands grew tired, or perhaps seeing tears drop from my eyes softened him slightly, but he finally sighed. “Fine. Today is my birthday, so do not ruin the mood.” “I am just mad that as my girlfriend, you refuse to say a simple happy birthday to me.” “Speak right now, and I will forgive you.” I lowered my eyes, my vision blurring completely. Zach, I wanted to speak too. I opened my mouth, but only a dry, raspy wheeze came out of my throat. Peyton’s sweet singing voice vibrated through the room speakers, creating a cruel contrast to my ugly noise. A few guests in the room let out quiet giggles. Embarrassment flushed my cheeks, and I instinctively turned to my parents for help. My father immediately berated me. “Have you had enough? Today is Zach’s birthday, what kind of humiliating noise are you making to cause trouble?” My mother gave me a look filled with utter disappointment. “I taught you and Peyton to be graceful from a young age. Why can your sister do it despite her condition, while a healthy person like you pretends to be pitiful?” “Piper, you disappoint me deeply.” The wave of accusations weighed down on me, forcing my head even lower. When we were kids, Peyton once got angry because she could not hear, smashing things around the house. When our parents rushed in, they only heard Peyton’s sweet, tearful voice accusing me. “Sister did it, she made fun of me because I cannot hear!” “Mom, Dad, am I really going to be deaf for the rest of my life?” Peyton’s voice was delicate and lovely. When everyone turned to look at me, all they heard was the awful, raspy croak in my throat. In their eyes, my sounds were nothing more than a guilty, indefensible noise. So what was I still hoping for? Hadn’t they always believed whatever suited them best? I shoved the birthday gift I had prepared into Zach’s hands, turned around, and walked straight out. Zach frowned, stepping forward to chase after me, but my parents held him back. “She is always like this, running away whenever she loses an argument.” “Today is your birthday, let us celebrate happily and stop spoiling her.” “Remember when she was little? Just because we took her sister to the hospital without her, she ran away from home.” “Nobody went looking for her back then, and didn’t she come crawling back on her own in the end?” I waited in the hallway outside the private dining room for ten minutes, but Zach never came out. A bitter laugh escaped me. How ridiculous I had been. After a moment of silence, I pulled out my phone and filled out an overseas transfer application. My department director, Dave, had mentioned before that he had a doctor friend in the UK who specialized in treating vocal cord and hearing disorders. Being assigned abroad would allow me to work while receiving medical treatment. Back then, Zach had insisted that living abroad was too dangerous and refused to let me go, so I had put the idea on hold. Now, I pressed the send button without a second thought. Goodbye. I was going to find my own voice. Inside the taxi on the way home, Director Dave approved my transfer request almost immediately. “I guessed you would come to me in a day or two, so I prepared your paperwork early.” “You can leave as early as tomorrow evening. The project over there is quite urgent, so pack your bags as soon as possible.” I was confused. I had only decided on the transfer an hour ago. Dave responded in surprise. “Didn’t Zach tell you?” “Last month he came asking about my doctor friend and the treatment costs.” “He seemed very serious, so I gave him my friend’s contact information.” Staring at the message on my screen, my heart skipped a beat. Last month was the exact time I took Zach home to meet my parents for the first time. An unsettling suspicion crept into my mind. I opened my chat history with Zach to check something, only to see a video posted by him in our department group chat. In the video, Zach sat in the middle of a crowd as the birthday boy, making a wish. Standing right next to him was Peyton, singing a sweet birthday song into a microphone. Colleagues showered the chat with wishes. “Happy birthday, Team Leader Zach!” Someone recognized the face identical to mine and raised a question. “Wait, isn’t that Piper?” “So Piper can actually speak? I thought she was mute all this time.” “Her voice sounds so pretty, why does she pretend to be mute every day at work?” I wanted to type an explanation, but Zach sent a message right after. “Piper is just shy and doesn’t like to speak, she didn’t mean to trick anyone.” “I apologize to everyone on her behalf.” The message I had typed was rendered useless. In the group chat, everyone praised Zach for being a responsible, understanding man, while subtly mocking me for being unworthy of him. He did not refute a single insult. Only Director Dave, who had seen my official medical records, messaged me privately. “Did you and Zach have a fight?” “Who is the girl in the video? She looks just like you.” I texted Dave back: How did you know it wasn’t me? Dave explained: “That girl is covered in designer brands from head to toe, and the hearing aid on her ear is the most expensive model on the market. How could that be you?” “After all, you are the most frugal person in our entire company.” “I know you are saving up for throat surgery. Don’t worry, my doctor friend is amazing. Just focus on your treatment, and I will ask him to give you a discount.” As Dave’s comforting messages kept coming, tears finally streamed down my face. After all these years, he was the first person who did not look down on me for being cheap. I used to think my parents refused to pay for my medical treatment because all our money went to Peyton. So since I was little, I pinched every penny. I thought that if I saved enough money myself, my parents would finally take me to see a doctor. It was only when I learned about luxury brands online that reality shattered my naive dreams. The money I saved by eating plain bread for an entire year could not even match the price of a single dress on Peyton. My medical examination fee was less than the cost of a hair clip on her head. So I became even more frugal. I told myself I would earn my own money and cure myself. Zach, however, always complained that I was too stingy. “We are still young, we should enjoy life! Why are you always saving so aggressively?” “Surgery? Your throat has been broken for years, how could it ever be cured?” “Sweetheart, you have me. What are you afraid of? I will be your voice for the rest of your life.” He used sweet words to keep me tethered to his side, turning around to spend our shared income on whatever expensive gadgets he liked. I quietly tapped open a hidden bank account, where I had secretly stashed money behind Zach’s back. Thank goodness the designer clothes on Peyton had taught me a harsh lesson early on. It made me realize that in this world, there is no one you cannot leave behind. I opened the company group chat and uploaded my medical records from over the years. “I am not pretending. The girl singing in the video is not me. She is my twin sister.” Type, attach, send. Smooth and decisive. A wave of relief washed over me as I turned off my screen. As expected, Zach called my phone via video the very next second. “Piper, do you really have to let everyone know I have a girlfriend who pretends to be mute?” I watched him through the screen without making a sound. So he finally blurted out what he truly felt. When we graduated from university, Zach and I joined the same company. The night before our first day, he asked me not to tell anyone I was mute. I was confused back then, and he had explained gently: “We have to work with these colleagues every day. I do not want them looking at you with strange eyes.” “You just need to act quiet and distant, and I will handle all the talking for you.” I didn’t think much of it then, assuming he was protecting me. Now, I finally understood. Even back then, he was no longer the passionate young man from college. He had started feeling embarrassed by me long ago. Seeing me remain silent, my father, who was standing beside Zach in the video, shouted at me in anger. “Where are your manners? Zach is asking you a question!” “Is this how I raised you, to ignore people when they speak to you?” “Don’t tell people you are my daughter from now on, I do not have a daughter like you!” My father clutched his chest, acting as if I had enraged him, and Peyton immediately rushed over to support him. “Sister, it is all my fault. You are Zach’s girlfriend, yet I had to steal the spotlight.” “If you are mad, curse at me, but please do not make Dad angry.” “You rarely come home, so you do not know Dad is sick and cannot handle big emotional swings.” She was always like this, acting dutiful in front of our parents. Yet she had never experienced a single day of real hardship. After graduation, my parents gave her thousands of dollars in allowance every month to stay home effortlessly. Meanwhile, I stopped receiving a single cent from my parents during my junior year of college. Over the years, I worked multiple jobs. Missing a single day meant I could lose my position. I quietly watched the harmonious family on the screen. Peyton and my mother supported my father, while Zach poured water and served tea beside them. What a heartwarming family, if only Zach were not my boyfriend. My mother joined in the scolding as well. “Look at your sister, then look at yourself! How did I give birth to a daughter like you?” “Since you are so heartless, do not bother coming back. We only have Peyton as our daughter from now on.” With that, she slammed the phone down, ending the call. I packed my luggage until the early hours of the morning before a drunk Zach finally stumbled through the door. Peyton was the one supporting him. Seeing me, Zach grumbled with dissatisfaction. “Piper, why do you never consider my feelings?” “Do you know that back in college, people laughed at me for having a mute girlfriend?” “I loved you, so I swallowed all those insults alone. But now your family tells me you were just faking it! Do you have any idea how hurt I am?” He wrapped his arms around me, burying his face into my shoulder just like he used to. All I felt was intense disgust. Peyton stood by the door, acting gentle. “Mom and Dad were just speaking out of anger today, do not take it to heart.” “You and Zach stay together happily, he is a really good guy.” I ignored her, pushing Zach off me, and used my hands to sign a question. “Did you open the birthday gift I gave you?” Zach was annoyed that I pushed him away, answering carelessly, “What gift? Oh, that cheap box? I do not know where it went.” “You only ever give me cheap handmade crafts to save money anyway.” My eyes dimmed. I grabbed his phone off the table. He did not stop me. He was always confident about letting me check his phone. I opened his messaging app. Very quickly, I found his chat history with the doctor abroad. Sure enough, every single question he asked was about hearing aids and ears. There was not a single word about vocal cords. At that moment, the cold wind blowing through the doorway woke me up completely. Zach, perceptive as always, picked up on my subtle shift in mood. He quickly softened his tone, trying to coax me. “Wait, did my sweet girl give me a special gift this year?” I shook my head, signing back calmly: “Nothing special. Just the same old stuff.” “If you do not like it, just throw it away.” I lied. Inside that box was a recording pen containing six months of ventriloquism practice I had secretly learned online. I had just wanted him to hear my voice. Now, I looked at the luxury watch on his wrist. It was the exact watch Peyton had posted on her social media feed yesterday. My heart died completely. Zach instantly lost interest, walking into the bedroom and falling asleep on the mattress. Peyton had not left yet. I could see the smug triumph deep in her eyes, a look she only ever displayed in front of me. This time, I did not argue with her about why she treated me this way. I signed a simple question to her: “If you like him, just say so. Aren’t you tired of acting after all these years?”

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Senior trip, Jerry’s lens stayed fixed on me all day. Classmates teased, “Joan, does he even see anyone else?” I blushed and said nothing. From freshman to senior year, across one thousand and ninety-six days, he had taken one thousand three hundred and seventy-two photos of me. I thought every shutter click was a quiet confession of love. That evening, we gathered in the cabin living room to project our trip photos. Jerry stepped outside to take a call. Dakin, our class president, accidentally swiped into a hidden folder on Jerry’s laptop. The screen flooded with images of me. My heart hammered against my ribs, a nervous flutter rising. But my excitement died the moment I read the folder’s title. Sally’s Practice Materials. The note on the first photo read, Joan’s smile looks a lot like Sally’s. Good for practice. The second note followed, This composition is perfect for Sally. Recreate this when she gets back to the States. The third stated, Great holiday aesthetic. Redo this with Sally when she returns. The final photo was a candid shot of me from that very afternoon, turning with a bright laugh after he called my name. The caption read, If Sally doesn’t accept me, I’ll try dating Joan first. The entire room fell into a suffocating silence. Someone scrambled to turn off the projector, the screen fading to black. I forced a stiff, empty smile. The lens that had made my heart race for three long years had never actually been looking at me. 1 The heavy wooden front door creaked open, and Jerry walked back inside. He glanced around the quiet room, his eyes eventually settling on me. “Why did everyone stop talking? I could hear you guys laughing from down the hall.” Even then, hearing his voice made my chest tighten with a familiar ache. For three years, whenever Jerry called my name, I would look up at him instantly, like a reflex. But now, those cruel captions flashed behind my eyes, burning like acid. I curled my fingers inward, digging my nails deep into my palms. Dakin let out a dry, awkward cough, unable to find his voice. Jerry walked over to me, holding out a plastic cup. “Here. I ran three blocks to get this for you.” His lips curved into a warm, gentle smile. I looked at the drink. It was a house-made lemonade with a heavy shot of sour cherry syrup. I have a notoriously weak stomach, and highly acidic, sour things always trigger severe pain. Back in sophomore year, I had ended up in the emergency room with acute gastroenteritis after drinking something similar. Jerry had visited me at the hospital with a basket of fruit. Back then, though my face was pale from the pain, I had secretly felt so happy just because he came. “Why aren’t you drinking it?” Jerry frowned, his tone turning impatient. “It’s their bestseller. I had to wait in a massive line.” “Sien…” He caught himself, swallowing the rest of the name. A wave of intense nausea hit me. Every single compromise I had made over the last three years bubbled up in my throat, choking me. I pushed the cup away. “I’m not thirsty. Thanks.” Jerry’s frown deepened. He leaned in and lowered his voice. “I literally ran back just to hang out with you, Joan. Are you seriously throwing a tantrum in front of everyone?” I looked up, meeting his eyes. “I’m really not thirsty, Jerry. Drink it yourself.” He froze. Usually, even if he bought me something I didn’t like, I would only tease him lightly before drinking it anyway. His face hardened, and he pulled out a chair, sitting down with a cold sigh. “Fine. Suit yourself.” The silence in the room became unbearable. Our classmates exchanged uncomfortable glances. Everyone knew I was crazy about Jerry, and everyone had assumed he felt the same way about me. Dakin desperately tried to clear the air. “Well, guys, it’s getting late. We should probably head to our rooms.” I stood up and silently began gathering my things. Jerry spoke up, his voice sharp and demanding. “We’re going to the beach to catch the sunrise tomorrow. 5:00 AM. I’ll wake you up.” My hands paused over my bag. “No need.” He snapped his head toward me. “What do you mean by that?” “I’m tired. I want to sleep in tomorrow. Go ahead without me.” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Joan, do you have any idea how much time I spent scouting the perfect location for this sunrise?” I looked him dead in the eye. “I know.” I knew exactly how much effort he had put into it. And I also knew what was written in his notes app: Sally said she wants to see the ocean. “Which is why I shouldn’t ruin your shoot,” I said quietly. 2 I forced a polite smile. “Goodnight, Jerry.” The draft in the hallway was cold. I walked back to my room, and the moment the door clicked shut behind me, all the strength drained from my body. I collapsed against the wood, realizing that when heartbreak hits its absolute limit, you don’t even have the energy to cry. My phone vibrled. It was a text from Jerry. I’ll be in the lobby at 5:00 AM tomorrow. Don’t be late. The golden hour doesn’t wait for anyone. I stared at those two messages for a long time. I scrolled up, looking through our chat history over the last three years. Come downstairs. Look back. Don’t move, the light is perfect right now. Come shoot with me tomorrow. I tapped the settings in the top right corner. My finger hovered over the delete button, but in the end, I only set the chat to mute. I guess when you’ve loved someone for that long, letting go is never a clean, instant break. I didn’t sleep a wink that night. Every time I closed my eyes, those typed words burned in the darkness. At 5:30 the next morning, a loud, aggressive knocking woke me. Jerry’s voice drifted through the door, thick with irritation. “Joan? Did you seriously oversleep?” My chest tightened out of habit. In the past, whenever he used that sharp tone, panic would surge through me. Even if I hadn’t done anything wrong, I would immediately apologize and scramble to make it up to him. I actually opened my mouth to say sorry before I caught myself. I took a slow breath, got out of bed, and opened the door. Jerry stood there, his expression dark. “I sent you so many messages. Why didn’t you reply?” I rubbed my eyes, keeping my voice flat. “My phone was on silent. And I told you last night, I’m not going.” He stared at me, searching my face. “You’ve never acted like this before. What is this really about? Are you seriously still throwing a fit over a drink?” To him, my emotions were always trivial, nothing more than childish tantrums over petty things. He never bothered to look deeper. “It’s not about the drink,” I said, leaning against the doorframe. “Then what is it?” “I’m just tired, Jerry. Go find someone else to shoot.” He paused, a look of disbelief crossing his face before turning into a cold sneer. “Fine, Joan. Look at you, finally finding your backbone. Don’t regret this.” He turned and marched down the hallway. I watched his retreating back, then quietly shut the door. For the remaining two days of the trip, we didn’t say a single word to each other. While the class was exploring a historic market town, Jerry lifted his camera out of sheer habit and pointed it at me. “Joan, look back,” he called out. He never asked if I wanted to be photographed. He never cared if I was exhausted. As long as he held his camera and called my name, I was expected to stop, turn, and offer a perfect smile. If this had been a few days ago, I would have immediately complied, adjusting my pose to help him find the best angle. This time, I merely glanced at the lens, turned on my heel, and walked toward a nearby stall. Within seconds, he caught up and grabbed my wrist. “Why are you dodging my camera?” I pulled my arm back, shaking his grip off. “I don’t want to take photos today. I’m not wearing makeup. I look terrible.” He scowled. “You never cared about makeup before.” “That was before.” I looked down at a street vendor spinning sugar into a delicate butterfly. “Jerry, stop wasting your shutter count on me.” Save it for the person you actually want to capture. Naturally, he missed the meaning entirely. “Are you still mad at me?” He let out a heavy sigh, his tone softening slightly. “Look, my bad, okay? Once we get back, I’ll print all the photos from this trip and put them in a custom album for you. Will you stop being mad now?” He leaned down, trying to catch my gaze. Looking at him only made me feel sick. That album would probably have notes about Sally scribbled all over the back of the prints. I refused him, keeping my voice completely calm. “No, thank you. I don’t really like having my picture taken anymore.” His face stiffened. Just then, his phone rang, playing a very specific, custom ringtone. 3 I recognized that ringtone instantly. It was the unique tone he had set for only one person. Without another glance in my direction, Jerry hurried to a quiet corner with his phone pressed to his ear. “Sally? Hey.” His voice possessed a soft, gentle quality I had never heard him use before. He sounded incredibly careful, as if he were terrified of startling her. There was a raw, unfiltered joy in his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I would have picked you up from the airport myself.” I stood in the middle of the bustling crowd, watching him smile. I had never seen him look that happy. Turning back to the vendor, I bought the sugar butterfly and took a small bite of the wing. It was incredibly sweet, but it left a metallic, almost bloody taste in my mouth. On the final day of our trip, Jerry suddenly dropped a message in our class group chat. Something urgent came up at home. I have to head back early. Have fun, guys! The chat instantly blew up. Dakin: Jerry, what’s so urgent? You’re skipping our farewell dinner? Another classmate: Yeah, man, we already bought the train tickets. Going back early is a waste. Jerry didn’t reply to the group. Instead, he came straight to my room and knocked on the door. “I have to go back early,” he said, standing in the doorway with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. “My uncle was admitted to the hospital. I need to go see him.” He lied without a single blink. I nodded slowly. “Is it serious?” “Yeah, pretty bad.” He sighed, reaching out his hand to ruffle my hair out of habit. I tilted my head, quietly slipping away from his touch. His hand hovered in the air for a second, awkward, before he pulled it back. I took a step backward, creating some distance between us. “Safe travels, then.” “Joan.” He paused. “Once I handle everything at home, I’ll come find you. We need to have a serious talk about our college applications.” I gave him a faint smile. “Sure. After you’re done.” “I’m heading out, then.” He turned and walked down the corridor, his steps light and hurried. The moment the door clicked shut, his phone rang again. It was that same custom ringtone. I stood behind the door, my fingertips turning cold. A memory from sophomore year flashed in my mind. He had told me his grandmother was sick and that he couldn’t celebrate my birthday with me. That night, I saw a photo posted by Sally on social media. In the corner of the frame, Jerry’s distinct camera strap was clearly visible. Back then, I had invented a thousand excuses for him. Now, I finally understood that it wasn’t a series of bizarre coincidences. I was simply incredibly good at lying to myself. I looked down at my phone. Jerry’s last text was still on the screen. I’ll text you when I land. Jerry had amazing grades, and he had always talked about studying photography at Alden University. Alden had been my ultimate motivation. To reach their cutoff score, I had stayed up until 1:00 AM every night, pushing through endless practice exams. Whenever I felt like breaking down, I would write his name in the margins of my notebook to remind myself to keep going. During our senior year, the window at the back of our classroom always let in a freezing draft. After evening study sessions, when everyone else had already left, I would stay behind, shivering as I corrected my mistakes. Jerry would occasionally walk by with his camera bag, tapping on the glass. “Still not going home?” Just looking up and seeing his face made the exhaustion vanish. I had asked him once, “Are you really going to Alden?” That night, I had completed an extra set of practice problems, writing in the corner of the page: Just a little more effort, and I’ll be closer to him. But now, the dream I had spent years desperately chasing had turned into nothing more than a humiliating joke. The next day, I took the train back home. Dakin kept glancing at me during the journey. As we neared our destination, he finally came over and sat in the empty seat beside me. “Joan, about the other night…” “What about the other night?” I asked, keeping my tone perfectly conversational. Dakin blinked, visibly relieved. “Nothing. I was just wondering where you’re planning to apply for college.” “Crestwood University, down south,” I replied. “Crestwood?” 4 Dakin looked completely bewildered. “But isn’t Jerry going to Alden? I thought you guys were going to the same school.” I turned my gaze toward the window, watching the green fields blur past. “Where he goes has nothing to do with me. Dakin, if Jerry asks about my application, please don’t tell him.” Dakin stared at me for a long time before nodding solemnly. “Okay. I promise.” On the final day of college submissions, the air was thick and humid. My phone vibrated with a text from Jerry. Did you submit your application? I ignored it, continuing to pack my things. My desk drawers were filled with little trinkets he had given me over the last three years: movie ticket stubs, small stuffed animals, and old Polaroids. I grabbed a cardboard box and began tossing them in, one by one. Half an hour later, Jerry called. “Joan, why aren’t you answering my texts?” “I wasn’t looking at my phone,” I said, dropping a framed photo of us into the box. “What’s up?” “Did you submit your application?” His voice sounded noticeably strained. “Yes.” He let out a small sigh over the line. “I have some stuff to take care of right now, but I’ll come over to see you later.” “Don’t bother,” I interrupted. “I’m leaving tomorrow to visit my grandmother. I’ll be staying with her for the rest of the summer.” “Your grandmother’s house?” He sounded startled. “Why the sudden trip?” “It’s been planned for a while.” “Alright, then.” I hung up, picked up the heavy cardboard box, and carried it downstairs. Just as I reached the sidewalk, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb. The door opened, and Jerry stepped out of the driver’s seat. My steps faltered. For a split second, a tiny, foolish spark of hope flared in my chest. Then, the passenger door swung open. Sally stepped out, wearing a beautiful floral sundress, her long hair catching the breeze. Jerry immediately reached over, gently smoothing down a stray lock of her hair. Standing on the steps, I felt that tiny spark of hope shrivel up, leaving behind a bitter, ridiculous aftertaste. Jerry spotted me holding the box. He paused, then walked over. “What are you doing down here?” “Taking out the trash.” Sally walked up behind him, eyeing me curiously. “Jerry, is this the sweet friend you told me about? The one who took such good care of you?” For three years, I had skipped study sessions to help him chase the sunset, stood in freezing parking lots waiting for the perfect lighting, stayed up late editing his portfolio, and accompanied him to every local gallery. And to Sally, I was merely a “sweet friend who took care of him.” Jerry gave a vague, noncommittal nod, then turned back to me. “Joan, Sally just got back and doesn’t really know the area. Are you free this afternoon? Can you take her to the mall to pick up some essentials?” He asked so casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if my sole purpose was to step into his frame whenever he needed a prop. Sally offered a sweet, sugary smile. “Yeah, it would be a huge help! Jerry said you’re incredibly sweet and would never say no.” Before I could even open my mouth, Jerry was already smiling. “I knew I could count on you.” He turned back to Sally. “You go with Joan. I have a shoot to get to this afternoon.” He didn’t even bother waiting for my answer before turning back toward his car. I looked down at the box of memories resting against my legs. I bent down, hauled back my foot, and kicked it with every ounce of strength I had. A loud, violent crash echoed through the quiet street. The cardboard box tipped over, and the Polaroid camera inside slammed onto the hard concrete, its lens shattering into tiny, glittering shards. Jerry froze in his tracks. He stared at the ruined camera, his expression instantly darkening as he slammed the car door shut and marched back toward me. “Joan, what the hell is wrong with you?”

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1 To save up for a house down payment, Derek froze my shared credit card. He told me we both needed to learn to scrimp and pinch every penny. One dollar had to do the work of two. I agreed. I started buying clothes from thrift bins and eating clearance food past its expiration date. Even when I was burning up with a 102-degree fever, I couldn’t bring myself to spend money on an Uber to the emergency room. Standing in line at the hospital checkout, my bank account had barely thirty dollars left. Shaking from the chills, I called Derek for help. When the call connected, a polite sales associate’s voice echoed through the speaker: “Mr. Derek, this three-million-dollar pink diamond necklace complements this young lady’s elegance perfectly.” Without a second of hesitation, Derek replied: “Swipe the card.” I froze in place. Looking down at the medical bill for $150, tears spilled uncontrollably down my face. He wasn’t broke. He didn’t need to cut corners. He simply felt I wasn’t worth spending a single dime on. … The phone slipped through my fingers. I bit my lower lip until it bled, choking back the sob in my throat. The emergency room lobby was loud and chaotic, but everything turned dead quiet in my head. I stumbled out of the hospital and found a tiny neighborhood clinic to buy a cheap pack of antibiotics. My balance was down to twenty-eight dollars. When I opened the door to the basement apartment Derek and I rented, the familiar stench of mold and stale dampness hit me square in the face. A note from Derek lay on the table: “Don’t buy groceries today. There are leftovers from two days ago in the fridge.” I burst into a sudden laugh, but tears kept streaming down my cheeks. Five years together. Five years of living like beggars. And in return, he threw millions around for another woman without blinking. I shoved a handful of pills into my mouth, swallowed them dry, and dragged myself toward the bed, gripping the wall for support. My sleep was restless, haunted by fragmented memories of the past five years. When Derek pursued me in college, he made sure the whole campus knew. The day I finally said yes, his eyes shone with a tender warmth that seemed capable of melting ice. That passionate young boy in my memory slowly overlapped with the Derek of today, growing colder and stranger by the second. Through the haze of fever, I heard the door click open. Derek stepped softly to the bedside and touched my forehead. Moments later, he laid a cool, damp towel over my brow. “Nora, get well soon,” he murmured, his voice scratchy. “It’s my fault I’m so useless. I hate making you suffer like this with me.” A tear slipped from the corner of my eye into the pillow. Derek, I suddenly realize I don’t know who you are at all. The next morning, the aroma of food woke me up. Derek was tied into an apron, busy in our tiny makeshift kitchen nook. He turned, and his eyes lit up when he saw me awake. “Nora! How are you feeling? Anything hurting?” I shook my head. “Breakfast is almost ready. Want me to bring it to bed, or are you getting up?” I threw off the blanket, but my knees buckled the second my feet touched the floor. Derek rushed over in three quick strides and caught me. “See? Small apartments have their perks. If this place were any bigger, you would’ve hit the floor hard,” he boasted with a light chuckle. I walked into the kitchen in silence. In the pot was leftover rice from who knows how many days ago, mixed with a few lonely shreds of egg. He scratched the back of his neck, his eyes swimming with guilt. “Nora, I’m sorry. This was all we had left. If only I had money, I could at least get you something decent while you’re sick.” My hands started shaking uncontrollably. My heart went completely numb. Derek filled a bowl and handed it to me. I forced down the tasteless food, noticing his side of the table was completely empty. “You’re not eating?” Derek stiffened for a second. “I’m not hungry. Besides, there isn’t much left. You’re the patient, so you get priority.” I glanced at him without saying a word. A few minutes later, Derek washed my empty bowl and dried his hands. “Nora, I have to run to work. Rest up at home today. Don’t worry about working.” He rushed out the door. Shortly after he left, I followed him. I tracked him through a maze of quiet streets until he turned into an exclusive gated community. The sight ahead hit me like a bolt of lightning. The moment Derek unlocked the grand double doors of a residence, a woman threw herself into his arms. “Derek! What took you so long? I’ve been waiting forever!” Her soft, playful voice drifted into my ears. I watched Derek stroke her hair, pick her up in his arms, and carry her inside. Wiping away a stray tear, I opened my phone and searched the property values for this neighborhood. It took a moment for the page to load. The Crestmont Residences. Thirty thousand dollars per square meter. A full financial audit was required just to schedule a viewing. The truth slapped me violently in the face. Just yesterday, I was making excuses for him in my head, telling myself that maybe he bought that absurdly expensive necklace for a sister or a family member. Now I saw the reality. He had betrayed our relationship long ago and set up a second life with another woman. My fingernails dug deep into my palms. It took a long time before I dragged my lifeless body back toward our basement. On the walk back, a fleeting thought crossed my mind. If it were him, he would never treat me like this. Lying on the basement bed, I stared blankly at the water stain on the ceiling. When did it all start? I interrogated myself over and over. Yet I couldn’t recall a single flaw in Derek’s behavior. He was always the attentive, devoted boyfriend. Rain or shine, he picked me up after work. During my period, he always brought me a bowl of warm brown sugar tea at the exact right temperature. When we slept, he instinctively pulled me close into his chest. My heart chilled degree by degree. My eyes wandered over the basement we had called home for five years. Every piece of cheap furniture was something Derek and I had picked out together. It was modest, but it felt warm. A sharp notification chime shattered my thoughts. “Nora, an owner at Crestmont needs an urgent house cleaner this afternoon. One hundred dollars an hour. If you want it, I’ll reserve it for you.” To save up for a house down payment and build a home with Derek, I had taken on multiple side hustles. My thumb hovered over the screen. After a long pause, I typed back: “I’ll take it.” Maybe seeing the opulence with my own eyes would finally kill every last shred of hope in my heart. At three in the afternoon, I walked into that gated luxury estate carrying heavy cleaning supplies. The moment the homeowner opened the door, all the blood rushed to my head. It was her. The woman Derek was keeping on the side. She wore a silk nightgown, standing before a wall packed with Hermes bags. I stiffened for a second before stepping inside. “Hey, take your shoes off! What kind of cleaner are you?” she snapped, giving me an annoyed glare. “Don’t ruin my imported wool rug.” She rolled her eyes with pure disgust. “Deep clean the kitchen and the living room. Skip the main bedroom. And scrub the bathroom floor on your knees three times. The last cleaner used a mop and left it smelling awful.” Under the giant crystal chandelier, her hands looked fair, smooth, and delicate. I looked down at my own hands, calloused and rough from years of hard labor. I gave a quiet nod. While I cleaned, she sat on the couch with her legs crossed, watching me like a hawk. Suddenly, she piped up: “Your job looks so exhausting. Thank goodness I don’t have to work. My man takes care of everything.” I forced a weak, bitter smile. “He must treat you well.” “He’s alright. Gives me fifty grand a month in fun money,” she said nonchalantly. “Hey, wait! You missed a spot over there.” She pointed to the fine gap between the floor tiles. “Ma’am, that’s just the color of the tile grout,” I explained helplessly. “I don’t care! Figure out a way to make it pure white,” her bossy voice screeched. “Am I paying you to lounge around?” I knelt back down and scrubbed with all my strength. “Ma’am, I’m finished. If you’re satisfied, please leave a five-star review.” Without waiting for her reply, I dragged my exhausted body toward the entrance. Just as my hand touched the door handle, the door swung open from the outside. Derek stood on the threshold. The moment his eyes landed on me, his pupils shrank in shock. “Babe, you’re back! I missed you so much!” Derek brushed past me, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper: “Nora, go home right now.” He shut the door behind him without looking back at me once. I stood outside the heavy door for a long time. Through the thin crack, I heard him say: “Tiffany, were you a good girl today?” His voice carried the exact tender affection I knew so well. My nose stung, and tears spilled down my cheeks. I hadn’t been home long when Derek slammed through the basement door. “Why are the lights off?” He frowned, scanning the dark room. “Derek, why did you betray me?” I choked out, forcing my voice to stay steady. Derek sat down across from me and grabbed my hands tightly. “Nora, don’t overthink this. It’s just a misunderstanding. She’s just a younger girl I know. There’s nothing between us.” My mind flashed to everything I saw in that mansion. “A younger girl? Does a younger girl call you husband? Does a younger girl get fifty thousand dollars a month from you?” “Didn’t you tell me we had to pinch every penny to save for a house?” Derek’s patience snapped, impatience flickering in his eyes. “Nora, are you done? I already told you it’s a misunderstanding. Do you really have to cling to it like this?” “A misunderstanding? She lives in a luxury estate while I rot in a basement?” “A misunderstanding that you bought her a three-million-dollar diamond necklace, but couldn’t give me a hundred and fifty dollars when I was sick in the ER?” Seeing my tears, a momentary panic crossed Derek’s eyes. “Nora, I…” “You what? Derek, you look pathetic when you lie.” “Enough!” Derek rubbed his temples in frustration. “Fine! I admit I’ve kept her outside for three years. But I spent most of my time with you, didn’t I? Is it really worth making a massive scene over?” “I gave her money, but I gave you love. That’s fair! What more could you possibly want?” “Fair?” Tears dripped onto the wooden table one by one. I let out a hollow laugh. “Derek, I spent five years with you. And in your eyes, all I deserve is ‘fair’?” Derek went quiet for a moment before throwing down three words: “Believe whatever you want.” He slammed the door shut behind him. I sat in the dim light for a long time, suddenly feeling like a complete joke. We were together for five years, and he kept another woman for three of them. Wiping the tears from my face, I stood up and started packing. When my hand touched the scarf lying by the bed, I froze. A few winters ago, an unprecedented blizzard hit the city. The office was miles away from home, taxis were impossible to catch, and I was shivering uncontrollably in the dark. Just as I resolved to walk all the way back in the snow, I saw Derek trudging through the drifts toward me. He took his own scarf off and wrapped it around my neck. I laughed, telling him his hair was covered in white snow. He said back then: If we walk together in the snow, we’ll grow old together. But Derek, I don’t want to grow old with you anymore. When I finished packing, my suitcase was only half full. It stunned me to realize how little I actually owned after all these years. The next morning, I picked up my suitcase to leave. Suddenly, loud, aggressive pounding echoed against the basement door. I pulled it open to find the woman Derek was keeping outside. She swept her eyes over the cramped basement, holding her nose in disgust. “I’m Tiffany. Name your price to leave Derek.” Her gaze landed on me, dripping with disdain. I let out a cold laugh. “Name my price? A mistress thinks she has the right to demand anything from me?” Tiffany’s face twisted for a second, but she quickly recovered her smug expression. “Don’t flatter yourself, lady. A man’s money is where his heart is.” “Besides, every time he comes home from this dump, he complains about smelling like dirt and poverty. He takes an hour-long shower just to scrub you off.” I stepped forward, locking my eyes on hers. “And? If he despises me so much, why hasn’t he broken up with me?” Tiffany’s expression darkened instantly. She grabbed my arm with one hand and swung her other hand hard toward my face. Slap! My head snapped to the side, a burning heat exploding on my cheek. Before Tiffany could react, I grabbed her wrist, leaned in, and slapped her back with every ounce of strength I had left. “Nora! What the hell are you doing?!” A furious roar echoed down the hallway, and a sudden, violent kick threw me backward. I crashed onto the floor, biting my lip hard as a sharp pain shot through my ribs. Derek marched over, his eyes fierce and cold. “Who gave you permission to lay a hand on her? Haven’t I told you that if you have a problem, you come at me?!” Seeing me curled up on the ground in pain, a flicker of guilt crossed his eyes. “Nora, Tiffany is young and naive. Can’t you show some grace? Do you really have to escalate everything into a fight?” I squeezed out a few words through my teeth: “I’m escalating things…” Before I could finish, another slap knocked me back down. “You actually dared to hit me back?!” Tiffany’s face turned ugly as she stomped her heel hard into my side. Derek glanced at me uncomfortably, then looked away. Blows rained down on me in a chaotic blur. My body felt like it was breaking apart. Only after a long while did Derek step in to pull Tiffany back. “Nora, don’t blame me,” Derek murmured, looking down at me. “You’re too strong. You’re like an oak tree that can survive anything no matter what happens.” “But Tiffany is different. She’s a greenhouse flower. She’s never been hit in her life. If she didn’t hit back, she wouldn’t be able to let it go.” It took every ounce of strength I had to lift my head off the cold floor. “So you think I should pretend not to know about your affair, and just stand here letting her hit and insult me without fighting back?” I laughed, though tears kept falling. “Yeah! Obviously!” Tiffany sneered. “Did you really think you could win Derek back from me?” She reached out and slapped my face one more time for good measure. Ignoring the metallic taste of blood in my mouth, I looked straight at Derek. “You think so too, don’t you?” Derek’s chest tightened. “No, Nora, that’s not…” “Fine. You don’t need to say another word. I get it.” I interrupted, my voice hoarse. “Everything that happened to me is my own fault. Derek, we’re done.” “Done? You mean dumped!” Tiffany pulled a thick stack of cash from her purse and slammed it against my chest. “This is from Derek. Your five years are worth just about this much.” I gave Derek one last, deep look, then pulled myself up using the wall for balance. When I reached for my suitcase handle, Derek grabbed my wrist in a vice grip. “Nora, if you’re willing, I can get you another apartment right now.” I saw the absolute confidence in his eyes. He truly believed I couldn’t bear to leave him. But the person who had been waiting for me for years had waited long enough. I wasn’t going to make him wait another second. I raised my hand and slapped Derek square across the face. Then I grabbed my bag and limped away without looking back. Two days later, Derek went to my company, assuming I had cooled off just like every other time we argued. “Nora? She handed in her resignation two days ago,” the front desk receptionist said, giving him an odd look. Derek’s breath hitched. Nora’s parting words flashed through his mind. His entire face turned deadly pale, and he bolted out the front doors like a madman.

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1 My mother’s surgery failed, and the doctors gave her less than three months to live. Suffocating under the weight of the news, I had no one to turn to except my boyfriend, Cavette. “Are you busy?” I texted him. No reply. Half an hour later, I sent another message: “Do you have a minute to talk? It’s about my mom.” Another thirty minutes passed before Cavette finally sent back a single digit: “1”. I stared at that “1” for a long time. It was always like this. When I was burning up with a 103-degree fever and begged him to take me to the emergency room, all I got back was a “1”. When my mom was first hospitalized and I asked if he could use his connections to get a top specialist, he waited half a day just to send a “1”. Even last month when we had a terrible fight and I asked if he cared about me at all, he waited overnight to reply with a “1”. Now my mother was dying, and I truly had no one left to lean on. Suddenly, a push notification popped up from his executive assistant Phoebe’s Instagram story. [I’m such a airhead! ruined the client proposal, but thanks to Mr. Cavette staying up past midnight fixing it with me, I’m touched enough to propose to him~] How utterly ridiculous. … Cavette was always “too busy.” Calls to his personal line were screened by his secretary. Dates had to be scheduled three days in advance. Yet he willingly sacrificed his precious time to personally fix a proposal for a junior assistant. I tilted my head back to force the tears back into my eyes. I searched my mind, trying to remember why I had ever fallen for Cavette in the first place. A boyfriend like this wasn’t worth keeping. I stared at Phoebe’s post for a long time. Attached was a photo of Cavette. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, staring intently at his laptop screen with a coffee cup sitting beside him. The cup had delicate latte art poured over the top, and the mug itself was a dusty pink. It looked like something a young girl would pick out with care. My mind drifted back to every birthday we spent together, when I used to buy Cavette a custom mug as a gift. Every single time he received one, he tossed it into the back of the hallway cabinet. It sat there gathering dust, never used once. I remembered asking him with red, tear-brimmed eyes, “Do you not like them?” Cavette had paused, reaching out to pat my hair carelessly. “The gifts you give me are too precious. I want to collect them and keep them safe.” “When I turn fifty, I’ll take them all out and count them one by one.” “Don’t overthink things, Hailey. I don’t care much for everyday items like mugs anyway. I have work to handle.” Yet I had seen that exact pink coffee cup on Phoebe’s feed before. It was a free promotional giveaway she got when buying a latte. Cavette had taken it and used it without a second thought. I scrolled up her profile. Cavette had liked her previous post too. Out of her last seven posts, he had liked six of them. Looking back at my own profile, he hadn’t liked a single one of my posts in nearly two years. Forget liking them, he probably didn’t even bother looking. I tapped the heart icon on Phoebe’s post, adding my own like to the list. Then I quietly closed the chat window with Cavette, sending nothing more. The screen went black. I let it stay dark. No matter how many messages I sent, that chat window would only ever receive another cold “1”. It was completely meaningless. I slipped my phone into my coat pocket, stood up, and went to make the final arrangements for my mother. By the time I finished, my body felt heavy and hollow. I dragged myself back to our shared apartment. The moment I unlocked the front door, I noticed the living room lights were on. I thought Cavette was back, but instead, Phoebe walked out of the bathroom, wrapped in nothing but a bath towel. “Oh! Sorry, Hailey! I thought you weren’t coming home tonight.” “Mr. Cavette sent me over to grab some files, and I was drenched in sweat, so I borrowed your bathroom…” “After all, he and I are going on a week-long business trip tomorrow morning.” Phoebe gave me a smug, triumphant smirk before strolling directly into the master bedroom to pack Cavette’s clothes. I didn’t say a word. My gaze was fixed on the spare key held tight in her hand. “How did you get that?” I asked quietly. Phoebe turned around, raising an eyebrow. “You mean this?” “Mr. Cavette gave it to me, of course.” A small Bunny Cop keychain dangled from the ring. It stung my eyes like a blade. If memory served, Cavette’s own keychain carried a matching Fox Nick charm. When had he gotten it? Three months ago? Six months ago? I couldn’t even remember. “These are all Mr. Cavette’s clothes, right? They definitely match his style,” Phoebe murmured, opening the closet and sifting through his wardrobe as if she owned the place. “Oh, I remember this shirt! I helped him pick it out while we were shopping on our last business trip.” “And this jacket! The coffee stain on the sleeve is from when I slipped and spilled my drink on him last week. Hahaha, you still haven’t washed it out?” I stood by the bedroom door like a total stranger, watching another woman sort through my boyfriend’s intimate belongings. A deep, bitter ache flooded my chest. As if sensing my stare, Phoebe glanced back at me. “Hailey, don’t misunderstand. I’m just Mr. Cavette’s assistant. Everything between us is completely professional.” I forced a weak curve onto my lips. “I’m not misunderstanding anything. Take your time.” Turning around, I walked straight into the study and shut the door behind me. The second the door clicked shut, my knees gave out. I slid down against the wood, tears spilling over my lashes. With trembling fingers, I pulled out my phone and typed a message to Cavette. “Cavette, let’s break up.” Five minutes later, my phone chimed. A pathetic sliver of expectation still lingered in my chest, hoping he might say something to hold onto me. When I opened the screen, the lingering hope shattered instantly. It was the exact same reply as always. “1”. I suddenly remembered a time when I couldn’t hold back my frustration and asked Cavette why he always replied with a single digit. He had said, “Because it’s fast. You know how busy I am, and extra words waste time. Replying with a ‘1’ means I’ve read it and acknowledged it.” He was indeed busy. Busy acquiring companies, busy closing multimillion-dollar deals, making thousands of dollars every single minute. Back then, I thought his explanation made sense. I tried my best to be understanding, sensible, and quiet, never disturbing his work. Only now did I realize the truth. He was simply saving his time so he could spend it on someone else. I didn’t have the energy to dwell on it anymore. My mother was laying in the hospital morgue, waiting for me to send her off on her final journey. I slept for barely two hours that night. Before dawn broke, I pulled myself out of bed to handle the funeral arrangements. Standing inside the cold morgue, looking down at my mother’s quiet, sleeping face, I finally broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. “Mom, I’m sorry… I was useless. I couldn’t save you…” The failed operation had been her last chance. Before she was wheeled into the operating room, she had already lapsed into a coma. The doctor had told me that if a top national specialist led the surgery, her survival rate could reach over sixty percent. Before that, I had begged Cavette with everything I had. “Please, can you introduce the specialist you know to my mom?” “The doctors said if he performs the surgery, there’s a high chance she’ll make it.” Cavette had been glued to his laptop screen. He didn’t even lift his head. Only when I begged repeatedly did he crease his brows in annoyance. “Hailey, it’s not that I don’t want to help you, but Dr. Chen has strict principles. He only sees patients by appointment.” “Then… is it too late if I book an appointment now?” Cavette glanced at me coolly. “His schedule is packed until next month. If you’re willing to wait, I can put your name down.” But my mother’s condition couldn’t wait. I had no choice but to settle for another surgeon. Yet the very next day, Phoebe had posted an update on her feed: [I officially declare Mr. Cavette the best boss in the world! Not only does he pay me well, but he also pulled strings to get a top specialist for my mom!] [Everyone else has to wait two months, but one word from him got me bumped to the front of the line! Boss Cavette is the best!] My heart had gone completely dead in that moment. I had driven straight to Cavette’s corporate building with red eyes, wanting to confront him, only to be blocked by security at the front lobby. “Miss, you don’t have an appointment. You can’t go up.” I dialed Cavette’s phone frantically, but his executive secretary answered instead. “Miss Hailey, Mr. Cavette instructed that if you wish to see him, you must book an appointment three days in advance.” Booking an appointment three days in advance. What an absolute joke. A girlfriend needing an advance reservation just to see her own boyfriend. Now, watching my mother being pushed into the cremation furnace, waiting until she was reduced to a small pile of grey ashes, I couldn’t even squeeze out another tear. I held the warm urn in my arms, walking numbly down the street. A small vendor cart stood by the curb, selling hot roasted chestnuts. A young girl behind the cart called out shyly, “Miss, would you like some chestnuts? Fresh out of the roaster!” My mind flashed back to my mother lying in her hospital bed, gripping my hand with a faint smile. “Hailey, my sweet girl loves roasted chestnuts the most.” “When Mom gets better, I’ll take you shopping and buy you a giant bag of hot chestnuts…” Before she was wheeled into the operating room, sensing the worst, she had forced her small savings into my palm. “Mom might not be able to stay with you much longer. If you see roasted chestnuts on the street, buy a bag for yourself.” “Just pretend Mom bought them for you.” “Cavette is always so busy with work. He never has time for you, and I hate seeing you suffer alone…” Tears had poured down my mother’s face as she spoke. “Mom is useless. I can’t stay by your side.” “If only Cavette wasn’t so busy…” Mom, Cavette wasn’t busy. He just didn’t want to spend his time on me. He had never bought me roasted chestnuts from the street vendor. So I would buy them myself. I bought a small bag and held it tight. The hot shells burned my fingertips red. I peeled one and slipped it into my mouth. Tears spilled over my eyelashes instantly. “Mom, I ate the chestnuts you bought me.” Just then, my phone chimed with another notification from Phoebe’s feed. It was a photo of her and Cavette standing close together, both smiling brightly at the camera with peace signs. The caption read: [A week-long business trip! Boss Cavette worked so hard! We finally closed the big deal we’ve been chasing for half a month. The boss treated me to a lavish dinner, and I got to pick my favorite restaurant. How is this not a match made in heaven?] Someone had commented below: “Doesn’t your boss have a girlfriend?” “You’re just an assistant. Posting stuff like this… aren’t you afraid the boss’s lady will see it and misunderstand?” Phoebe replied with a giggling emoji: “Just work partners~ Don’t spread rumors.” “Besides, Mr. Cavette isn’t married, which legally makes him single. Who knows who the real boss’s lady will turn out to be?” I locked my screen, finding the whole thing absurdly funny. We were broken up anyway, and my mother’s affairs were settled. It was time to leave. That evening, I was sorting through my belongings, deciding what to pack, what to give away, and what to throw out. The front door suddenly swung open. Cavette walked in, looking exhausted. He stepped up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Hailey.” “It’s been almost half a month. Why haven’t you sent me any messages lately?” “I’ve been worked to the bone.” “Without your daily texts keeping me company, I actually feel a bit unaccustomed to it.” Did you truly care about my company? Could a lazy, automated response really become a habit for you? I didn’t answer. I pulled away from his grip, creating distance between us. “I’m really tired. I don’t feel like talking.” “You just got back from your trip. You should get some rest.” Holding my pillow, I turned toward the guest bedroom just like I always did. Cavette creased his brows, grabbing my wrist firmly. “Don’t sleep in the guest room tonight. Sleep with me, alright?” I turned back, staring directly into his eyes. When we first moved in together, I used to be clingy. I tried every sweet word I knew, begging Cavette to let us sleep in the same room. I told him I was afraid of thunder. He handed me a pair of noise-canceling earplugs. “Put these in and you won’t hear a thing.” I told him I was afraid of the dark. He handed me a sleep mask. “You’ll get used to it.” I racked my brain for other excuses, but he had frowned at me impatiently. “Hailey, I’m genuinely busy. I don’t have time to play these childish games with you.” “Before you met me, did you not sleep alone?” I had been left speechless. He claimed he needed to focus on work late into the night, afraid I would disturb him, and afraid his late-night typing would wake me. So he insisted on separate bedrooms. From that day on, I became a permanent resident of the guest room. Yet now, he was actively asking me to sleep beside him. “No thanks,” I said, gently slipping my hand out of his grip. “I’m used to sleeping alone.” Cavette’s hand hovered in the air, clearly surprised by my refusal. He stared at me, a flicker of confusion breaking through the exhaustion on his face. Subconsciously assuming I was just throwing a minor tantrum, he let his hand drop. “Fine,” he sighed, loosening his tie. “Get some sleep then.” I nodded, turning to push open the guest room door. “Oh, by the way,” his voice called out from behind me. “If I remember correctly, your mom’s surgery is the day after tomorrow, right?” My hand froze on the doorknob. Cavette’s voice carried a hint of a warm smile. “I took a full day off the day after tomorrow. I’ll head to the hospital with you to see your mom.” “After all, a major surgery is terrifying for an old lady. Having both of us there will make her feel much better.” A suffocating wave of bitterness welled up behind my eyes. I clenched my fists, biting my lip until it hurt. “Thank you, but there’s no need.” My mother was already gone. Her life-or-death surgery hadn’t been scheduled for the day after tomorrow. It had taken place a week ago. It was just a shame that Cavette couldn’t even remember something so critical. “Hailey, you don’t need to be so polite with me,” Cavette said affectionately. “I admit I’ve been neglecting you because of work lately. Taking the day off will be a good way to make it up to you.” He pulled a red velvet gift box from his coat pocket and handed it over. “I saw this on my way back from the airport. Thought it looked nice, so I bought it for you.” I turned around. Cavette opened the velvet box, looking at me as if expecting a delighted reaction. With a single glance, my heart sank to the bottom of an icy lake. The bracelet inside was something I had already seen on Phoebe’s Instagram feed. [So thankful to Boss Cavette for buying me the Ocean Star necklace!] [Though this free promo bracelet that came with it is pretty ugly. I don’t want it, wonder which unlucky soul will end up with it.] I forced a faint smile onto my face. “Well, thank you so much.” Cavette didn’t notice the strange tone in my voice. He turned and walked into the bathroom to take a shower. And I, the unlucky soul, didn’t even look at the bracelet a second time before tossing it directly into the trash can. Early the next morning, I got up and began packing my things. Having lived here for three years, the apartment was filled with memories. The ornaments on the bookshelf, the clothes in the closet, the small milk pot in the kitchen I used for two years, the framed photo of my mother on the nightstand… Now that I was leaving, I realized how few things actually belonged to me. I pulled my clothes from the closet, folded them neatly, and packed them into two large rolling suitcases. From the bookshelf, I picked a few sentimental knickknacks to slide into my backpack, leaving the rest behind. Opening the desk drawer, I found several old journals I had written when I first arrived in Seattle. The pages were filled with the innocent longings of a girl hopelessly in love. “Taking a leap of faith for love! I finally moved to Cavette’s city! We can finally live together and end the long-distance relationship!” “Cavette is so talented and amazing. So many girls are pursuing him, but I have to do my best not to become a burden to him.” “Cavette worked late again tonight. He’s too busy to spend time with me.” “Little Teddy, I’ve been in Seattle for half a year now. When do you think Cavette will finally have free time to take me to see the ocean?” I let out a self-deprecating laugh and tossed the journals straight into the trash. As I was wrapping up, footsteps sounded behind me. I turned around. Cavette was leaning against the doorframe, his hair damp from a fresh shower. He scanned the chaotic room, staring at the clutter in confusion. “What are you doing?” He stepped forward, looking down at the packed suitcases resting on the floor. “Going on a business trip?” I didn’t bother offering a long explanation, opting for a quiet hum in response. Taking my response at face value, Cavette assumed I was truly going out of town for work. “Alright. I haven’t paid much attention to your work lately, but I heard you got promoted last month?” “It’s good to work hard while you’re young. Don’t slacker off when there’s work to be done.” “When’s your flight? Should I drive you to the airport?” Without lifting my head, I replied flatly, “No need.” A proper boyfriend wouldn’t be completely unaware that his girlfriend had submitted her resignation a week ago. “The company arranged a car to pick me up. Don’t worry about it.” “Alright.” Cavette let out a small sigh of relief, though his brow furrowed again a second later. “But your mom’s surgery is the day after tomorrow. Are you not staying to accompany her?” I clenched my palms tight, staying completely silent. Right on the shelf directly in front of him sat my mother’s ashes in a small wooden box. Cavette had been back for hours, yet he hadn’t noticed it even once. Seeing my silence, Cavette assumed I was feeling anxious about the surgery. He stepped closer and patted my shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t worry about it. Go focus on your work trip, and I’ll take care of your mom.” “I’ll be there for her. After all, I’m your boyfriend.” I didn’t argue. Once everything was packed, I retreated into the study, claiming I had last-minute tasks to handle. In truth, I was just hiding from Cavette, unable to stand looking at his face for another second. Noticing that I wasn’t acting as clingy as before, Cavette creased his brows in confusion. “Hailey, what’s wrong with you…” Before he could finish his sentence, his phone rang loudly. He picked it up, and Phoebe’s frantic voice burst through the speaker: “Mr. Cavette! Rescue me!” “I messed up again! I accidentally sent the internal pricing document to the client instead of the proposal! Please save me!” Cavette’s face shifted instantly, but his tone carried a familiar fondness as he scolded her gently. “You silly girl.” “Don’t touch anything. Wait for me at the office.” Just like countless times before, Cavette grabbed his coat, threw out a hasty sentence about an emergency at the office, and rushed out the door. I stood by the window, watching his sports car speed out of the complex. A sudden wave of relief washed over me, and I smiled softly. “Cavette, this time, I’m dumping you.” The day I left happened to be the exact day Cavette claimed he took time off to visit my mother at the hospital. Cavette insisted on driving me to the airport early that morning. “Hailey, when you get back from your trip, I’ll take you out for a nice dinner.” He leaned down, intending to kiss my forehead, but I tilted my head away, dodging his touch. Cavette’s expression flickered briefly, but he reached out to pat my hair anyway. “Have a safe flight.” I looked up, taking one final, careful look at his face. “Don’t forget what you said. You promised to go to the hospital for my mom.” “Don’t worry, I won’t forget.” I waited at the terminal for an entire day, but no calls or demands came from Cavette. He didn’t realize my mother wasn’t at the hospital. Instead, I saw from Phoebe’s latest Instagram update that Cavette had spent the entire afternoon accompanying her on a shopping spree downtown. It wasn’t until six in the evening that Cavette finally sent me a text: “I’m so sorry, Hailey.” “Something urgent came up at the office, and I just finished handling it. I’m rushing over to the hospital right now.” I didn’t bother replying. I turned off my phone. Whether driving from Phoebe’s luxury apartment or his corporate office, getting to that hospital took barely fifteen minutes. In fifteen minutes… Cavette, you will never be able to find me again. Sure enough, it didn’t take long before my phone began vibrating frantically in my lap.

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1 The news of my wife’s pregnancy drove my father mad with joy. On the spot, he had his attorney draft an agreement, gifting a luxury penthouse in the heart of downtown to my triumphant wife. My mother gripped her hands tightly, tears streaming down her face as she declared that our family’s greatest savior had finally arrived. And I stood there, my fingertips going dead cold, staring fixated at that deed of gift. We had been married for over six months, but I had only touched her once on our wedding night. … Bella gently stroked her flat stomach, tilting her head to look at me. I stared at her meticulously made-up face, a violent wave of nausea surging in my stomach. Digging my fingernails deep into my palms, I forced down the overwhelming urge to vomit. “How could I not be?” I forced a stiff, unnatural smile onto my face. “It’s just such a huge surprise. I haven’t fully processed it yet.” Sitting at the head of the dining table, my father burst into a boisterous, booming laugh. He slammed his hand onto the wood, his face flushed with pride. “What are you standing there gawking for? Hurry up and sign it!” Father pointed at the thick stack of legal documents resting on the table. “This twenty-million-dollar downtown penthouse is a special reward for Bella! She is the ultimate hero of our family right now!” Our family’s private attorney immediately stepped forward, holding out a sleek fountain pen toward me. I looked at the pen, a chill creeping up from the tips of my fingers. My mother sat beside Bella, her eyes rimmed red with emotion as she wiped away tears. She unclasped a deep green jade bangle from her wrist. The jade was exquisite, practically glowing with translucence, a priceless heirloom passed down from my grandmother. She had worn it for thirty years without ever taking it off. Mother pulled Bella’s hand up and forced the bangle onto her wrist. “You deserve this, my dear!” Mother choked out through her tears. “This bangle is only passed down to the women of our family. I’m handing it to you now as a welcome gift for my grandson.” Bella lifted her wrist, admiring the vivid green jade with a triumphant glint in her eyes. She shot a subtle, sidelong glance at me before leaning coyly toward my father’s side. “Thank you, Mom. And thank you, Dad,” Bella said, her voice dripping with sweet affection. “Honestly, as long as our family is happy together, that’s all that matters. Dad, you really didn’t have to spend so much.” She naturally reached over, straightening the collar of my father’s suit jacket. The weight of her body leaned almost entirely against him. “It’s all thanks to Dad’s wonderful guidance. I’m just lucky to be part of this family.” Father patted the back of Bella’s hand with a satisfied smile. “Good girl. Whatever you want in the future, just tell me.” Watching the scene unfold before me, I stood up abruptly. The legs of my chair scraped against the hardwood floor with a harsh, ear-splitting screech. “I’m a bit overwhelmed. I need to use the restroom.” I turned on the faucet, splashing icy water onto my face over and over again. Lifting my head to look into the mirror, I felt as though a blinding green light was glowing right above my head. We had been married for half a year. I had only touched her once on our wedding night after getting completely plastered. Shortly after, my father assigned me to an isolated, closed-off project in a remote region, keeping me away from home for months. The creature growing inside her stomach couldn’t possibly be mine. Taking a deep breath, I pulled out my phone and dialed Cole, a trusted private investigator I knew well. “Cole, it’s me,” I murmured, my voice dropping into an icy register. “Look into someone for me. My wife, Bella.” “I want her complete timeline from the day we married until now. Hotel check-in records, medical visits, daily routes, everything.” “Money is no object. I want the most detailed report possible.” Hanging up, I composed my expression and walked back out to the living room. My father was already busy making grand arrangements. “Tomorrow, I’m throwing a massive family banquet!” Father declared with a grand sweep of his arm. “Invite every single relative and friend! I want to announce this incredible news to the entire world!” Bella reclined on the sofa, twirling the jade bangle on her wrist. Seeing me walk over, she instantly screwed her face into a frown. “Honey, why do you smell like smoke?” Bella covered her nose, waving her hand dramatically. “The doctor said pregnant women shouldn’t breathe in secondhand smoke. It’s terrible for the baby’s development.” I didn’t smoke at all. But I didn’t bother defending myself. Bella turned toward my mother, pouting her lips dramatically. “Mom, for the baby’s health, could my husband sleep in the guest room tonight?” Mother immediately grew tense, nodding repeatedly. “Yes, absolutely! The pregnant mother comes first. Son, just bear with it for a few days and sleep in the guest room.” Father put on a stern face to lecture me as well. “You’re a grown man, act like one! Get to the guest room right now. Don’t go around irritating my precious grandson!” I clenched my hands into tight fists, my fingernails digging painful crescents into my palm. “Alright,” I said quietly, keeping my voice entirely flat. “Take good care of the baby.” Late that night, I lay on the cold, stiff mattress in the guest room, completely devoid of sleep. My phone screen suddenly lit up. Cole had sent an audio message. I tapped play. “Boss, your wife’s daily routine is surprisingly clean. No records of her checking into hotels with other men,” Cole’s voice sounded subtly strange through the speaker. “But there is a very bizarre coincidence. I’m still verifying it, but I’ll send you the full breakdown tomorrow.” 2 Early the next morning, Bella was scheduled for her first official prenatal checkup at a private clinic. She stood before the vanity mirror, humming a light tune while meticulously applying her makeup, her mood soaring high. “The appointment is at ten. Don’t be late,” I called out as I headed downstairs. Just as I reached the foyer, my father’s voice chimed in from the living room. “Bella, why don’t I drive you? I know the directors at that private hospital. I can arrange the best specialist for you.” He was already dressed in a tailored suit, tossing his Mercedes car keys in his hand. I took a few quick strides, blocking the front door. “Dad, I’ll take her. I’m her husband. Accompanying my wife to her checkup is my responsibility.” The smile on my father’s face stiffened for a second before snapping back to normal. “Right, right. You young couple go ahead.” Yet the look he cast toward Bella carried a subtle, lingering reluctance. The atmosphere inside the car was suffocatingly tense. Bella sat in the passenger seat, touching up her lipstick while casting mocking glances at me out of the corner of her eye. “Well, well, did the sun rise from the west today?” Bella sneered mockingly. “Usually, you wouldn’t even touch me if I asked, but today you’re playing the devoted husband.” She snapped her compact shut with a loud click. “What’s wrong? Afraid Dad will steal your spotlight, or afraid people will find out you can’t even get it up?” The veins on the back of my hands bulged as I gripped the steering wheel tightly. “Fasten your seatbelt,” I spat out cold words, refusing to take her bait. Bella rolled her eyes, begrudgingly pulling the belt across her chest. “Boring man. I really don’t know what I ever saw in you.” Inside the VIP examination suite at the private hospital, the doctor held the freshly printed ultrasound scan, smiling at us. “Congratulations to you both. The fetus is developing exceptionally well.” The doctor pointed at a tiny black speck on the monitor screen. “Based on the gestational sac measurements, she is currently ten weeks pregnant. Very healthy.” I stared fixated on the number on that screen. Ten weeks. Which meant two and a half months ago. At that exact time, I had been assigned by my father to oversee a closed-off mining project in a mountainous region three thousand miles away. For a whole month, I didn’t even have a cell signal, let alone a chance to come home. This child could not possibly be mine. Bella stroked her stomach, her face radiating pure bliss. She turned her head toward me, the corners of her lips curling upward into a sharp sneer. “Honey, did you hear that? The baby is very healthy.” That smile was nothing short of a direct provocation. Taking advantage of the moment when Bella went to the restroom to collect a urine sample, I walked briskly toward the blood lab at the end of the corridor. “When she comes in for her routine blood draw later, quietly draw an extra vial,” I whispered, slipping a thick envelope into the nurse’s coat pocket. “Don’t let her notice.” The nurse caught my drift and gave a subtle nod. Ten minutes later, the nurse handed me a sealed vial containing maternal blood packed with cell-free fetal DNA. That very afternoon, a courier whisked the sample away to an out-of-state third-party forensic lab for expedited, confidential processing. When we returned home from the hospital, I stepped through the front door and froze. The entire estate was decked out in festive decorations, looking more extravagant than a holiday celebration. The living room was piled high with top-tier designer baby gear. Father was directing several contractors, measuring dimensions in the south-facing room with the best sunlight. That room used to be my private study. “Tear down this wall and replace everything with eco-friendly padding!” Father barked orders loudly. “The crib needs to be custom-made from raw, unpainted hardwood! I’ve already drawn up the blueprints, follow them precisely!” Seeing Bella walk in, Father dropped his tape measure and rushed over eagerly. “Bella, you’re back! You must be exhausted.” Father carefully supported Bella’s arm, treating her as if she were made of fragile glass. “Sit down and rest. I personally simmered bird’s nest soup for you.” Watching my father bustle around her, pouring out relentless affection and warmth, the cloud of suspicion in my chest grew darker and heavier. Cole’s words about a bizarre coincidence echoed loudly in my mind. For the next three days, I lived like a walking ghost. Every day, I watched Bella lord her power over the household while my father bowed to her every whim. I could only choke down the sheer disgust, playing the part of a dull, invisible spectator. On the evening of the third day, the family sat around the dining table, enjoying dinner in apparent harmony. Father was enthusiastically brainstorming names for the baby. Suddenly, my phone vibrated intensely inside my pocket. I pulled out my phone. It was an encrypted email. The expedited DNA test results had arrived. 3 “Something urgent came up at the office. I need to handle it.” I stood up abruptly. No one cared about my departure. I walked straight onto the balcony, sliding the glass door shut behind me. The crisp autumn night wind carried a bite, but it couldn’t cool the cold sweat dripping from my palms. I opened the encrypted email and typed in the long password. The page loaded. I skipped past the complex data analysis and scrolled directly to the final conclusion page. The bold black lettering on the screen stabbed brutally into my eyes: [Comparative analysis of genetic loci between the submitted samples shows approximately 25% genetic similarity.] [Conclusion: Does not align with a biological parent-child relationship, but aligns with an uncle-nephew or grandfather-grandson relationship!] I lifted my head sharply, staring through the glass door toward the dining table. I was an only child. I had no brothers. A 25% genetic match proved a singular, hideous truth that defied all moral boundaries. The baby inside Bella’s stomach belonged to my father! A violent wave of nausea surged from my gut. I bent over the balcony railing, dry-heaving uncontrollably as bitter bile rose in my throat. A suffocating chill rushed from the soles of my feet straight to the top of my skull, making my entire body tremble. My own father had knocked up his mistress, forced her onto his biological son as a wife, and expected me to play the official father to his illegitimate child! It was the most absurd, disgusting joke on earth! Just then, my phone vibrated again. Cole’s comprehensive file hit my inbox. I opened the document, revealing a dense layout of photos and timeline comparisons. Bella’s daily routine was indeed clean, with no records of hotel stays with other men. However, twice a month, she visited an elite day spa on the outskirts of the city for a four-hour session. Surveillance footage pulled by Cole showed that during every single spa visit, my father’s black luxury SUV was parked in the alley behind the spa’s rear entrance. The two of them shared a private treatment suite. The timeline spanned a whole year. They had been sleeping together long before I ever met Bella! Suppressing the murderous rage boiling inside me, I took several deep breaths of cold air. Slipping the phone back into my pocket, I slid open the glass door and walked back into the dining room. The scene unfolding before me struck every nerve in my body. Father was using his own chopsticks to pick up the tenderest piece of fish belly, reaching across the table to place it intimately into Bella’s bowl. “Bella, eat more fish. It’s good for the baby’s eyes,” Father murmured, his gaze soft and dripping with tenderness. Bella lowered her head coyly, taking small bites. “Thank you, Dad. You’re so good to me.” And my mother, kept entirely in the dark, was happily ladling chicken soup for Bella. “Yes, Bella, your father never even picks up food for me! He really treats you like his own daughter.” Mother smiled warmly, her face full of affection. Watching this sickening charade, I pulled back my chair. “Mom, Dad, I’m full.” My voice sounded so eerily calm that it unsettled even me. Father set down his chopsticks and wiped his mouth with a napkin. He stood up, clearing his throat as he looked down at me. His eyes carried an unquestionable authority mixed with a subtle, calculating gleam. “The family banquet is tomorrow,” Father said, leaning his hands on the table. “In front of all our relatives, I have a major announcement to make regarding you.” The next day’s banquet was a grand affair, packed with distinguished guests and flowing wine. Father wore a dark red velvet suit, his face glowing as he stood on the stage holding a microphone. He announced the joyful news of Bella’s pregnancy to the entire room. “This is a monumental blessing for our family! I’m finally going to be a grandfather!” Thunderous applause erupted below the stage. Relatives raised their glasses, showering our table with a barrage of cheap flattery. Father dramatically produced an elegant velvet box containing the keys to the luxury penthouse, placing them solemnly into Bella’s hands. Dressed in a haute couture gown, Bella lifted her chin with pride, soaking in the envious glares of every woman in the room. Then, Father shifted the topic. He turned his gaze toward me, sitting silently in the corner of the room. “To provide the strongest financial security for our family’s future eldest grandson…” Father intentionally raised his voice so every soul in the hall could hear clearly. “…I have decided to transfer thirty percent of my shares in the family corporation to this unborn child in advance!” He looked around the room, his face wearing a facade of grand generosity. “Everyone present today shall be our witness!” The crowd gasped in shock. Even my mother, who had been maintaining a polite smile, froze in place. That thirty percent stake was the final line of defense my maternal grandfather had left for me before his death. It was the sole proof of my mother’s family investing their fortune into the family business decades ago. I looked at my father’s hypocritical, righteous face on the stage. I looked at Bella’s greedy expression, practically salivating at the thought of swallowing everything whole. I couldn’t hold it in for another second. Letting out a cold laugh, I slammed my hands on the table and stood up. The sound of my chair clattering onto the floor echoed harshly across the banquet hall. I marched onto the stage, slamming a thick document folder directly onto the main table. “Transfer my shares to your bastard child?” I locked eyes with my father’s stunned gaze. “Dad, isn’t your math a little too loud?!”

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1 The day before we were supposed to get our marriage license, my fiancé walked into the registry office holding his official documents, hand in hand with Alyssa. Over the phone, a friend tried to talk sense into him. “What about Phoebe?” “You’ve been together seven years. You’re really going to marry someone else?” Jackson went silent for a long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “Phoebe will understand. Alyssa’s dad doesn’t have much time left. It’s just a legal formality, a fake marriage. The moment the old man passes, I’ll file for divorce.” The friend still sounded hesitant. “But she waited seven years for you.” Jackson let out a quiet chuckle. “And because she waited seven years, she’s not going to throw me away over a single month.” I stood frozen around the corner, my fingers clutching the bag of gourmet chocolates I had bought to share with the registry staff. I didn’t storm inside to demand an explanation. I didn’t burst into tears or beg him to change his mind. I simply walked up to the window, canceled my appointment, and turned around to leave. What Jackson didn’t realize was simple. Marriage can be delayed, and love can take its time. But I refused to spend the rest of my life tied to a man who was so arrogantly certain I would always wait right where he left me. … When I canceled the booking, the clerk glanced at me twice, her eyes filled with sympathy. “Are you sure, sweetie? Spots for today were nearly impossible to get.” I gave her a small, firm nod. My phone buzzed in my hand. It was a text from Jackson. [Something came up at the firm. We’ll have to push the registry back a few days. Don’t be mad, okay? I’ll explain everything tonight.] I stared at the screen until the light dimmed, then shoved the bag of melting chocolates into my purse and walked out into the chilly air. I still had afternoon classes to teach. I headed back to campus and carried on with my second-grade literature lesson as if my whole world hadn’t just shifted on its axis. We were reading a fable about a young foal trying to cross a rushing river. A little boy near the front raised his hand, looking up at me with wide eyes. “Miss Phoebe, did the little horse cross the river all by himself in the end?” I stood there with a piece of chalk in my hand, staring at the blackboard for several seconds before my brain registered the question. “He did.” “Wasn’t he scared?” the boy asked. I gave him a soft, weary smile. “Even if you’re scared, sometimes you just have to cross it anyway.” After the bell rang, a few teachers gathered around my desk, teasing me about why I hadn’t taken my bride-to-be leave yet. “Wait, weren’t you registering today? Where’s Jackson?” “Come on, where are the wedding treats? Don’t hide them!” I pulled the bag of chocolates out of my purse and handed it over. The heat had melted the cocoa, leaving it sticky inside the foil wrappers. My coworkers assumed I was just flushed with bridal nerves and kept laughing. I forced myself to smile along with them. The laughter felt hollow, leaving a bitter taste in the back of my throat. That evening, Jackson called. “Phoebe, have you eaten yet?” In the background, I could hear the faint paging system of a hospital, accompanied by a woman’s low, muffled sobbing. I didn’t call him out on it. “Not yet.” “I am so sorry about today. Something urgent came up on Alyssa’s end. Her dad is in critical condition and he’s not very lucid. He keeps crying, terrified no one will take care of her when he’s gone.” I sat alone in the empty classroom, watching the overhead sports field lights flicker on one by one outside the window. “So you married her?” The line went completely dead. After a agonizingly long silence, Jackson lowered his voice. “You found out?” “Yes.” He let out a heavy sigh of relief, as if a weight had been lifted. “Phoebe, listen to me, it’s just a formality. Her father funded my college tuition back in the day. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t even have a degree. This is the dying man’s final wish. I couldn’t just walk away.” “So you used our life together to repay a debt?” “Don’t talk like that,” Jackson snapped, his tone growing sharp and defensive. “You know who is in my heart. Alyssa and I have zero future together. As soon as her father passes, I’m filing for a quick divorce. Give me a month at most, and we’ll get our license.” A month at most. He said it so casually, as if I had simply stepped into the wrong line at a grocery store and just needed to wait my turn at another counter. “Was it really that hard to tell me beforehand?” I asked quietly. “I was afraid you’d overthink things.” “You went behind my back and married another woman, and you were worried I’d overthink it?” Jackson rubbed his temples audibly, his voice thick with exhaustion. “Phoebe, my head is spinning right now. Her father is in the ICU, and Alyssa is completely falling apart. I know you feel wronged, but I will make it up to you later, I promise.” Later. In the seven years we were together, that was his favorite word. Later, I’ll take you on that trip to Europe. Later, I’ll give you a proper proposal. Later, I’ll turn the balcony into that reading cozy you always wanted. Later. Always later. And now, when my entire future had been derailed by his choices, he still treated it as a minor inconvenience, a simple delay. I hung up the phone without another word. Ten minutes later, my social media feed refreshed. Alyssa had posted a photo. In a dimly lit hospital room, her delicate hand rested gently over the back of Jackson’s hand. In her lap lay the corner of a newly issued marriage certificate. The caption read: [Thank you for giving my father peace of mind.] Our mutual friends list had already exploded in the comments. [Wait, congratulations?! Is this official?] [So glad Alyssa finally has someone to protect her.] [Jackson is a real man. Professor Dawson didn’t raise you for nothing.] Jackson had even liked the post. He probably convinced himself it was just a comforting gesture toward a dying mentor’s daughter. I stared at the image until my eyes burned so badly I couldn’t keep them open. That night, I drove to our new condo. We bought the place last year. I had contributed every single cent of the savings I’d scraped together from tutoring in college to working extra shifts after graduation for the down payment. When we were renovating, Jackson was slammed at work, so I spent every evening after school wandering around hardware stores, picking out every tile and light fixture myself. When I unlocked the door, Alyssa was sitting on my couch, wearing my plush house slippers. Her eyes were red and swollen. Seeing me, she stood up abruptly. “Phoebe, please don’t misunderstand. My dad was transferred to the hospital nearby tonight, and Jackson was worried I’d be too exhausted running back and forth, so he insisted I rest here for a bit. I swear I won’t touch any of your personal things.” In her hands, she held my favorite mug. It was part of a matching couple’s set I had specifically bought for us to use after getting our license. Jackson walked out of the kitchen holding a spatula, his sleeves rolled up. “What are you doing here?” he asked, startled. I looked at him, my voice dangerously calm. “This is my apartment. Am I not allowed to be here?” Jackson’s jaw tightened. “That’s not what I meant. Alyssa’s had an exhausting day. The hospital cots are tiny and uncomfortable, and it’s just not safe or convenient for a young woman to stay there alone.” Alyssa rushed to set the mug down, her hands trembling. “I’ll leave right now. Phoebe, I am so sorry. This is all my fault. Please don’t fight with Jackson over me. He hasn’t eaten a single bite all day, and he’s been running around arranging everything for my dad.” She reached for her coat, taking two shaky steps before her body swayed dramatically. Jackson darted forward, catching her by the waist. “Why are you pushing yourself like this?” Tears spilled over Alyssa’s cheeks. “I just don’t want to make Phoebe upset.” Jackson turned to me, his eyes filled with frustration and pleading. “Phoebe, her dad is literally in the ICU right now. Just let her stay for one night. I’ll take her back to the hospital first thing tomorrow.” I let out a soft laugh. “Let her?” He missed the dark irony in my voice, assuming I was yielding. “Thank you,” he murmured. Those two words cut deeper than any screaming argument ever could. That night, Alyssa moved into the guest bedroom. That room was supposed to be my home office. I had spent weeks picking out the wooden desk near the window, imagining myself grading papers there in the afternoons. Now, the surface was covered with Alyssa’s makeup bag, medical records, and her travel mug. She apologized profusely, her voice dripping with innocence. “I was worried my stuff would clutter the living room, so I put it in here for now. I promise I’ll clean it all up tomorrow.” Jackson emerged from the kitchen carrying a steaming bowl of soup. “Phoebe, sit down and eat something first. Your stomach gets upset easily when you skip meals. Don’t go to sleep on an empty stomach just because you’re angry.” He spoke so naturally, as if today were just another ordinary couple’s spat. I sat down at the dining table, looking at the two place settings he had laid out. Jackson froze, realizing his mistake, and quickly went back into the kitchen to grab a third plate. Alyssa spoke up softly. “I shouldn’t intrude. You two eat. I’ll just stay in the room.” Jackson frowned. “You have low blood sugar. You need to eat. Sit down.” She cast a timid glance at me before slowly taking a seat. I didn’t touch a single morsel of food during that entire meal. Noticing my empty plate, Jackson picked up a pair of serving chopsticks and placed a piece of garlic shrimp onto my dish. “This is your favorite.” Alyssa was quietly sipping her soup when her phone suddenly chimed with a video call. “Jackson… my dad just woke up. He wants to see us on video.” Jackson’s hands stiffened, the chopsticks hovering in the air. I raised my head to watch them. Alyssa bit her lip, fresh tears welling up in her eyes. “I know I shouldn’t keep troubling you, but the doctor said his lucid moments are getting shorter. I’m just so terrified he’ll slip away again.” Jackson went silent for a moment before wiping his hands on a napkin. “Answer it.” The call connected. On the screen, an elderly man lay hooked up to an oxygen tube, his breathing shallow and rattling. “Alyssa… where’s my son-in-law?” Alyssa turned the screen toward Jackson. Jackson leaned closer, his voice softening into a gentle, reassuring tone. “Professor Dawson, I’m right here.” The old man cracked a weak, trembling smile, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. “Good… good. Leaving Alyssa with you… I can rest easy.” Jackson’s throat worked as he swallowed hard. “Focus on getting better, sir.” I sat right next to them, feeling like a ghost haunting a life that wasn’t mine. Suddenly, Alyssa began frantically feeling her bare hands. “Dad, look… I’m wearing the ring.” Her fingers were completely bare. The old man’s vision was failing, but he kept staring intently at the screen. “The ring… yes… a marriage needs a proper ring…” Alyssa froze, panicked. Jackson reflexively turned his head toward me. I met his gaze, cold and unblinking. In the drawer of our master bedroom nightstand sat the custom pair of platinum wedding bands we had picked out together months ago. I thought he would have at least a shred of decency left. But without a word, he stood up and walked straight into our bedroom. The sound of the drawer sliding open echoed sharply in the silent apartment. A moment later, he walked back out carrying the small velvet box. He popped it open. He took out my ring and handed it to Alyssa. “Put this on for now.” I stared at him, stunned into complete, absolute silence. Alyssa shook her head frantically, though her hands hovered near the box. “No, Jackson, I can’t. This belongs to Phoebe.” Jackson didn’t look at me. His tone was smooth, perfectly reasonable. “Just so Professor Dawson can rest easy.” He took her hand and slid the ring onto her left ring finger. The fit was entirely wrong. Alyssa’s fingers were slighter than mine, leaving the heavy band hanging loosely on her hand. She smiled through her tears into the camera lens. “Look, Dad. We’re really married now.” The old man finally let out a satisfied breath and closed his eyes to rest. Jackson exhaled long and slow, relieved. That was the moment I finally stood up. The chair legs scraped violently against the hardwood floor, producing a screeching tear through the room. Jackson whipped his head around. “Phoebe, where are you going?” I walked into the master bedroom, pulled my suitcase out from the closet, and began throwing my clothes inside. Jackson hurried in behind me, slamming the door shut. “Stop acting like this! Professor Dawson doesn’t have much time left. I couldn’t push him over the edge at a moment like this!” “So you push me over the edge instead?” “You are completely healthy! Do you really have to hold a grudge against a dying man?” I raised my head to look at him. The moment those words left his mouth, the temperature in the room dropped to absolute zero. Jackson seemed to realize how cruel he sounded. He reached out, his voice softening as he tried to pull me into an embrace. “Phoebe, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just so exhausted.” I took a sharp step back, dodging his hands. His arms hung frozen in midair. Knocks sounded softly on the door from the hallway. Alyssa’s voice leaked through. “Jackson, your mother is calling on the other line. She’s asking about the wedding details.” Jackson’s frown deepened. He answered the call and put it on speaker. His mother’s sharp voice filled the bedroom instantly. “Jackson! What on earth is going on between you and Phoebe? The venue coordinator called saying the final balance hasn’t been settled yet. Your father already invited all his colleagues from the department! Don’t you dare make a fool out of us!” Jackson glanced at me nervously. “Mom, we might need to postpone the wedding.” “Why?” Silence. Alyssa stood in the doorway, her face pale as a sheet. Finally, Jackson cleared his throat. “Phoebe hasn’t been in a great mood lately, so we put off getting the license for a bit.” The sweater I was holding slipped from my hands, hitting the floor. His mother blew up immediately. “Why is Phoebe being so stubborn all of a sudden? You two have been together for seven years, what is she throwing a tantrum for right at the finish line? Jackson, your work is so demanding. She’s just a school teacher, her schedule is far more flexible than yours! Can’t she be a little more understanding?” I kept my eyes fixed on Jackson. He didn’t explain. He didn’t offer a single word to say it wasn’t my fault. When the call finally ended, Alyssa looked at me with brimming, apologetic eyes. “Phoebe, I am so sorry. Did your future mother-in-law misunderstand you? Let me call her back and explain everything.” Jackson grabbed her arm, stopping her. “Don’t add to the mess.” A bitter, quiet smile tugged at the corner of my lips. So in the end, I was the one adding to the mess. I didn’t manage to leave that night. Around midnight, Alyssa developed a spiking fever, and Jackson was beside himself trying to rush her to the emergency room. As he helped her toward the door, he looked back at me. “Phoebe, go to sleep. I’ll come back as soon as her IV drip is done.” I stood in the center of the quiet living room. “Jackson, today was supposed to be our wedding day.” His footsteps paused. “I know.” “You know, and yet you’re leaving me here alone?” Alyssa weakly tugged at his sleeve, her voice faint. “Maybe I should just take an Uber by myself…” Jackson didn’t move, a dark storm of frustration brewing in his eyes. “Can you please stop pressing me at a time like this?” I let out a dry, incredulous laugh. “I’m pressing you?” “Alyssa has a 102-degree fever! Phoebe, a human life is at stake here!” In that fleeting second, I thought back on the past few weeks. Every one of Alyssa’s tears, every instance of her weakness, seemed infinitely more precious and urgent than anything I felt. The front door clicked shut. I sat alone on the sofa in our unfinished home until the horizon turned gray. When the sun finally began to rise, Jackson returned. He looked shocked to find me still sitting in the exact same spot, his tone softening immediately. “Why didn’t you get any rest?” I didn’t answer. He walked over and dropped to his knees in front of me, taking my cold hands. “Phoebe, yesterday was my fault. I shouldn’t have raised my voice. As soon as Professor Dawson’s condition stabilizes, I’ll take you on that coastal trip we talked about, okay? Didn’t you always want to watch the sunrise over the ocean?” In the past, hearing those words would have melted my heart in an instant. Now, all I felt was a bone-deep, suffocating fatigue. His phone lit up on the coffee table. A text from Alyssa: [Jackson, my dad woke up asking for you again. I am so sorry, I know I shouldn’t keep burdening you.] The moment Jackson saw the notification, he reflexively pushed himself up to stand. I lifted my eyes to meet his. “You’re going back?” “Professor Dawson needs me right now.” “And what about me?” He froze. I asked him, emphasizing every single word, “What am I to you right now?” Jackson pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling a frustrated breath. “Phoebe, stop digging into dead ends. You’re the woman I’m going to marry.” “Except Alyssa is your legal wife.” His face darkened instantly. “It’s just a piece of paper!” “A piece of paper that defines a marriage.” “Phoebe!” It was the first time in seven years he had ever yelled at me like that. Regretting it immediately, his voice dropped lower. “I genuinely do not have the energy to fight with you right now. Just give me a little time.” “How long?” “A month.” “Divorces have a mandatory thirty-day cooling-off period.” Jackson blinked, stunned. Clearly, he hadn’t given the actual process a single second of thought. Looking at his clueless expression, I realized that arguing was entirely pointless. He hadn’t even bothered to look into the consequences, yet he felt entirely comfortable gambling with my life. His phone rang. It was an incoming call from Alyssa. He answered it. Alyssa was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. “Jackson, my dad says he wants to go home… Does he know he’s dying? I’m so scared, I’m really so scared…” Jackson squeezed his eyes shut. “I’ll be right there.” Hanging up, he looked down at me. “Phoebe, wait for me to get back. We’ll have a real talk then.” I didn’t reply. He reached the front door, hesitating before turning around. “I know you’re furious, but I also know you won’t actually throw us away. We’ve been together for seven years.” My heart gave a violent, painful spasm. Seven years. In the end, he had turned those seven years into his ultimate bargaining chip. After Jackson left, I began packing my things. I didn’t own much that wasn’t tied to this place. Once my main suitcase was packed, I walked into the guest room to retrieve my teaching books. The door was slightly ajar. Alyssa’s handbag sat open on the desk, a folded document slipping out from the side pocket. I hadn’t intended to pry. But the words printed across the top of the page were impossible to ignore: Application for Dissolution of Marriage. The filing date was stamped yesterday. Tucked inside was a neat, handwritten sticky note in Alyssa’s elegant handwriting: [30-day waiting period. Both parties must appear within 30 days after the period ends. If one party fails to show, the application is deemed withdrawn.] She had known the rules all along. And Jackson was completely in the dark. Or rather, he simply hadn’t cared enough to find out. I slipped the document back into her bag. Just as I turned to leave, the sound of footsteps echoed from the outer hallway. Jackson and Alyssa were back. Alyssa was weeping softly. “Jackson, did I ruin everything between you and Phoebe? She must utterly despise me.” Jackson let out a heavy, tired sigh. “No. She’s just struggling to accept it right now.” “But… what if she really leaves you?” Jackson went silent for a moment before speaking in a low, absolute tone. “She won’t.” Alyssa sniffled. “How can you be so sure?” “Phoebe will wait for me. She loves me too much to let me go.” Standing behind the bedroom door, my tightly clenched fists slowly unfurled. He was right. Once upon a time, I couldn’t bear to let him go. I couldn’t bear to watch him stay up late working without bringing him dinner; I couldn’t bear to see him shoulder massive project failures alone; I couldn’t bear the thought of him putting on a brave smile for me after getting chewed out by his boss. I cared about far too many things. And because I cared, he felt entirely safe hurting me, confident that I would always be there when he decided to turn around. In that quiet moment, the final, fragile thread of hope I held for him snapped completely. Suddenly, I felt no urge to scream, no desire to demand answers. I pulled open the desk drawer, took out my platinum engagement ring, and laid it quietly on the dining table. Right next to it sat the half-empty bag of melted chocolates. Before leaving, I took one last look at the apartment. Every piece of furniture had been handpicked by me, yet the space felt utterly foreign, like a place I had never truly known. I pulled open the front door. Both of them turned to look at me simultaneously. Jackson frowned. “Where are you going?” “Back to the school dorms.” His eyebrows pulled together in annoyance. “It’s late, stop acting out.” He reached out, his hand clamping firmly around my wrist. “Phoebe, just wait until we get through Professor Dawson’s funeral arrangements. I promise I’ll give you a proper answer.” I reached down and, finger by finger, pried his grip off my arm. “Don’t bother.” “Jackson, we’re over.”

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1 When I opened my eyes in the morning, I suddenly realized I could hear my cold, stoic husband’s inner thoughts. At breakfast, I habitually sat on the far side of the dining table. A second later, a tearful, utterly aggrieved voice whined inside my head. [Boohoo, my wife is sitting so far away from me again. Distance only breeds longing and heartbreak…] My hand froze over my spoon. I looked up. Gary sat opposite me, his handsome face composed as he calmly ate his toast. At bedtime, I kept a safe distance and pulled the covers over my side of the mattress. [I specifically changed into a brand new silk pajama set today. Why hasn’t she glanced at me even once? I want to cry…] I turned my head slightly. Gary was leaning against the headboard, his collar casually unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of collarbone. The book in his hands hadn’t been flipped by a single page for ten straight minutes. A few days later, my best friend invited me out for dinner. It was a rare occasion for me to dress up, spending two full hours getting ready before stepping toward the front door. By the foyer, Gary stood leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression impassive. In the very next instant, a dramatic, weeping voice exploded in my ears: [You’re completely ruined, Gary! Your wife looks like she’s going out to fall in love!] … [Gary, you useless idiot! Your wife is going to run away!] [I guess I’m simply not worthy after all. I guard this empty marriage, guarding a cold, hollow bed, unable to hold onto a single trace of her gentleness.] My hand holding my purse stiffened. I turned around to look at him. Was that tragic drama queen inside my head really Gary? [Sophie looks so breathtakingly beautiful today, but too bad she isn’t going out with me.] I intentionally slowed down my movements, leaning over casually to put on my heels while keeping an eye on the man beside me. He maintained his cold pose, leaning against the frame with a detached look in his eyes. After a long pause, he said indifferently, “Come back early. Stay safe.” Immediately, that whimpering inner voice flared up again. [Look at that, she won’t even say a word to me anymore.] [It’s so hard to get a day off, but my wife is going out without me. My heart hurts so much.] I looked at his poker face, which remained as still as a stone carving, then thought about the dramatic inner voice inside his head. A wave of laughter bubbled up in my chest. I pretended not to notice a thing, turning around to walk out the door. The moment I turned my back, I felt the man’s body stiffen beside me. [Wait, you’re just leaving directly?! Is Sophie mad at me?!] [Oh no, oh no, Gary, you blew it again!] I bit my lip to suppress a laugh, forcing a serious face as I stepped out into the hallway. Behind me came his desperate inner crying. [Sophie, boohoo…] When I reached the restaurant, my friend Hannah was already waiting at a corner table, waving at me excitedly. “Sophie, over here!” I walked over and sat down. “Sophie, the baked ice cream toast here is incredible, you have to try it!” “Sure, let me try a bite!” We chatted straight through until late afternoon, when the sky outside suddenly darkened. Heavy drops of rain began slamming against the glass window, turning into a torrential downpour within minutes. I pressed my face against the window, my eyebrows pulling together in a tight frown. It was bright and sunny when I left home, so I hadn’t brought an umbrella with me. Hannah patted my shoulder, her tone dripping with pride. “Don’t worry about it. My guy Tyler is picking me up, so we can drop you off on the way.” Just as she finished her sentence, a young man in a crisp white shirt ran in under a black umbrella, holding two spare ones in his hands. It was Tyler, Hannah’s new boyfriend. Tyler handed an umbrella to Hannah and offered a friendly smile toward me. “Sophie, the rain is pretty heavy out there. Let me give you a ride home first.” Before I could thank him, a sleek black Bentley glided smoothly to the curb right in front of the restaurant entrance. The tinted window rolled down slowly. Gary sat in the driver’s seat, turning his head to look at me through the rain. “Get in. It’s on the way.” In the very next second, his dripping-sour inner thoughts barged straight into my ears. [I suppose I arrived at a bad time, just when another guy was trying to play hero and drive my wife home.] [Thank goodness I waited outside for three whole hours, otherwise my wife would be riding in another man’s car right now.] Listening to his pitiful, jealous inner voice, the corners of my mouth twitched upward uncontrollably. Hannah blinked in surprise, quickly catching on. “Oh, it’s Gary! What a coincidence! Go on, let your husband take you home!” Tyler also smiled politely. “Nice to see you, sir.” Gary didn’t say much, merely giving a brief nod. His eyes, however, remained glued to me from start to finish. After saying goodbye to Hannah and Tyler, I opened the passenger door and slid into the car. 2 The moment the car door closed, the chaotic sound of the pouring rain was shut out. The air conditioning inside was set a bit too low, sending a sudden chill over my skin as soon as I sat down. Gary started the engine, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead in complete silence. Yet his inner voice chattered non-stop right beside my ears. [Is the temperature too cold? Sophie is wearing a short skirt today with her calves exposed, she must be freezing.] [Should I raise the air conditioning by two degrees? It would be terrible if she caught a cold.] [But will she think I’m being overbearing and bossy? Argh, I’m so torn!] I peeked at him from the corner of my eye. Gary’s eyebrows were slightly knitted, looking completely focused on driving. I feigned a sudden shiver from the cold. Gary’s right hand shot out with lightning speed, instantly bumping the climate control up by two degrees. The second he pressed the button, he snapped his hand back to the steering wheel, looking straight ahead as if nothing had happened at all. “There’s a jacket in the back seat. Cover your legs if you feel cold.” [I must have looked so cool just now, especially from this side angle.] [Was Sophie charmed by me?] I squeezed my eyes shut to hide my laughter, pulling the jacket over my lap. Turns out he wasn’t just a dramatic crybaby; he was a narcissist, too. The car moved smoothly along the wet asphalt, the cabin quiet except for the steady rhythm of the windshield wipers. Gary managed to hold out for ten full minutes without me initiating a conversation, but the jealousy brewing in his chest finally overturned. [Who was that guy back there anyway?! It makes me so mad!] [Hmph! She was smiling so brightly at him earlier! If I knew he was coming, I wouldn’t have come at all!] [Deep down I know I’m not as fun as those younger guys. In the end, my wife just doesn’t care about me. I’m so sad.] Listening to his dramatic inner thoughts, I couldn’t hold it in any longer and let out a soft snort of laughter. Gary’s hands froze on the leather steering wheel. He glanced at me sideways, a hint of panic flashing across his dark eyes. “What’s funny?” His tone remained chilly, but I could hear his heart pounding like a drum inside his mind. [Why is she laughing? Does she think I’m weird?] [I knew it, I shouldn’t have worn this outfit today! Or is it these glasses?] I reined in my smile, turning to look at him while dragging out my words playfully. “Oh, nothing.” Seeing the subtle blush creeping up his ears, my mood brightened immensely. “That guy back there was just Hannah’s new boyfriend. He off work and came to pick her up.” The moment the words left my mouth, I felt Gary’s eyes light up. His grip on the wheel visibly loosened. [I knew my wife wouldn’t like a pretty boy like that!] [She actually took the initiative to explain it to me! She really cares about me!] “I see,” Gary replied coldly, though a trace of uncontainable lightness slipped into his tone. The car soon pulled into our apartment complex. It was still raining heavily. After parking, Gary pushed his door open first, opening a large black umbrella as he hurried around to the passenger side. He opened my door, angling the umbrella entirely over my head. Half of his own shoulder was left exposed to the pouring rain, quickly getting drenched by the cold water. He averted his gaze stoically. “Hurry inside. Don’t get wet.” 3 The next afternoon, I went out to pick a gift for Hannah to celebrate her new relationship. She had just made things official with Tyler last week and insisted I buy her a memorable gift to mark the occasion. After browsing through three boutique jewelry stores, I finally settled on a pair of silver couple’s bracelets engraved with their initials. While checking out, a pair of blue diamond cufflinks in the corner of the display case caught my eye. Small, scattered diamonds were set to mimic tiny ocean waves. It reminded me of how Gary had tilted the umbrella entirely toward me yesterday, standing firm and cold even while getting half his shoulder soaked. Impulsively, I pointed at the cufflinks. “Please wrap these up for me as well.” When I arrived home holding two gift boxes, the warm light in the living room was already on. Gary was sitting on the sofa with a remote in his hand, a financial news channel playing on the television. Hearing the front door click, he looked up and swept a cool glance over me. “You’re back.” In the very next second: [Sophie is finally home! I specifically switched to silver-framed glasses today, did she notice? Did she see them?] [My assistant said these glasses make me look younger. Sophie should like them, right?!] Following his inner prompt, I took a closer look at him. He had indeed swapped his usual dark frames for thin, silver wire-rimmed glasses, which gave him an air of quiet, refined sophistication. The corners of my lips curved upward into a genuine smile. “The new glasses look really nice on you. They suit you well.” The corner of Gary’s mouth flicked up for a fraction of a second, so fast it seemed like an illusion. He cleared his throat, fixing his eyes on the TV screen while the tips of his ears turned a faint shade of pink. “Just bought them on a whim.” [Sophie praised me! Buying these glasses was so worth it! I’m giving my assistant a raise when I get back!] [Can I use this opportunity to chat with her for a bit now? What should I say?] I didn’t give him time to overthink. After changing my shoes, I walked over to the sofa and held out one of the gift boxes to him. “I got this for you.” Gary whipped his head around to stare at me, his eyes wide. He hesitated for a moment before hesitantly reaching out to take the box. “For me?” I nodded. “Yeah. I saw it while shopping and thought it would look great on you.” [Sophie bought me a gift! This is the first time she’s ever bought me a gift! I’m so happy!] [I’m wearing this tomorrow! I’m wearing it every single day!] Just then, his gaze drifted toward the second gift box sitting inside my shopping bag. I chuckled inwardly, pretending not to notice his stare. “Is it a matching couple’s set?” he asked carefully. “No, it’s for someone else.” Instantly, his sour inner thoughts flooded my mind like a barrage of angry comments. [Was this bought exclusively for me, or does every other younger guy out there get one too?] [All my happiness from a second ago was a lie. I am profoundly sad now.] I raised an eyebrow, looking at his stoic face. “I have to go out again tomorrow, by the way.” Gary didn’t say another word. He stood up, picked up his gift, and turned straight toward his study. “I still have work to finish. Go to sleep first.” The study door closed softly behind him, yet it carried an undeniable wave of petty resentment. I sat on the sofa, my shoulders shaking as I held back my laughter. The light in the study remained on until midnight. Just as I was drifting off to sleep in the bedroom, the door clicked open softly. I pretended to be fast asleep. He lifted a corner of the duvet with extreme care, slowly slipping into bed beside me. In the dark, his quiet inner voice began mumbling all over again. [Sophie definitely likes me, otherwise she wouldn’t have bought me a gift.] [Tomorrow I absolutely must find out who that other box was for.] Listening to his quiet, obsessive rambling, I gradually drifted into a peaceful dream.

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1 I was born with face blindness, yet amidst any overwhelming crowd, I could always pinpoint my childhood friend, Jasper, following him around like a devoted shadow. Jasper never hid his disgust for my presence. “Hazel, when we were kids, you pushed me into the river, and it was your sister Jessica who nearly drowned saving me.” “Jessica is the one I love. I despise you, so stay the hell away from me.” I tried typing the truth on my phone screen. The one who pushed you into the river back then was Jessica… Before I could finish typing, Jasper snapped, snatching the phone from my hands. “Hazel, be a woman and own up to your actions! Stop doing malicious things and trying to pin them on someone else.” He sped down the highway, dragging me to the busiest district in the city center, and smashed my phone onto the concrete. “Consider this your punishment for lying. Figure out how to find your own way home.” I stared at his retreating back in complete disorientation. He knew better than anyone that I was mute. It wasn’t until three hours later that Jasper strolled back to find me, only for his face to turn instantly pale. Because I wasn’t waiting in place like he assumed I would be. Surveillance footage showed that I had mistaken another man for him and left by his side. … It was a crisp Saturday morning, and my mother had arranged to go shopping with Jasper’s mother. They walked arm in arm on either side of my sister, Jessica. Jasper trailed behind them lazily, a lollipop hanging from his lips. I kept a strict distance, following roughly six feet behind Jasper. I could hear my sister’s sweet, pampered voice ahead. “Mom, I want to buy a pair of designer heels.” Watching their laughing, joyous figures ahead, I lowered my gaze, quietly adjusting the oversized shoes slipping off my feet. When I raised my head again, they had already pulled far ahead. Swallowing the bitter loneliness in my throat, I picked up my pace, desperately trying to catch up. In my haste, I lost track of the distance and accidentally broke Jasper’s strict rule of keeping at least six feet away from him. Hearing my uneven footsteps, he turned around. Before I could look up to gesture an apology, Jasper recoiled in sheer disgust, taking a sharp step back to re-establish the gap. “Keep your distance!” I waved my hands frantically, wanting to explain that the crowd was too dense, that I was terrified of getting lost in the sea of unfamiliar faces and never finding him again. But no matter how hard I tried, my throat produced nothing but silent, agonizing air. My mother and Jasper’s mother turned around at the commotion. A subtle crease of irritation settled between my mother’s brows. “Hazel, you know Jasper gets annoyed the second he sees you. Why can’t you just follow quietly from behind? Why do you keep rushing up?” Jessica opened her mouth as if to mediate, but Jasper’s mother caught her wrist, smiling softly. “Jessica, sweetheart, let your mother discipline her. Don’t get involved.” Then she turned to Jasper with a mild scold, “Hazel is unwell, Jasper. As her older brother figure, you should be more patient with her.” The minor scene was brushed aside just like that. I stood frozen on the pavement, watching their departing figures until the courage to move my feet completely drained out of me. By the time I pulled myself together, they had vanished without a trace. A sudden urge to cry welled up in my chest. But for a girl who couldn’t even make a sound while weeping, no one would ever know I had been left behind. I crouched down just like I used to as a child, counting the concrete tiles on the ground and watching ants crawl past, waiting for someone to finally remember I was missing. When I reached the twenty-first tile, a pair of pristine sneakers slowly entered my line of sight. I raised my head. Jasper was standing there, slightly out of breath. The dark clouds suffocating my chest instantly cleared away. I stood up, offering him a bright, relieved smile as my fingers moved swiftly in sign language. Thank you for coming back for me. Jasper knitted his brows in annoyance. “Your sister realized you were missing and begged me to come look for you.” “And stop doing that with your hands. I don’t understand sign language.” I lowered my hands awkwardly, nodding my head. I didn’t blame Jasper; I blamed myself. Ever since the drowning incident seven years ago, I hadn’t been able to utter a single word. I knew full well that across both our families, no one except my sister had ever bothered to learn sign language. I shouldn’t have used it with him. Seeing my head drop again, Jasper clicked his tongue, his voice laced with irritation. “Always putting on that pitiful act, as if the rest of us are constantly bullying you.” “Hurry up. If you lag behind again, we’re leaving you.” His tone was harsh, but his footsteps noticeably slowed down. Before sadness could take root, a quiet thread of joy bloomed in my heart, and I jogged forward to keep pace with him. We walked a long way before finding my mother, who was waiting impatiently while Jessica held her arm. I bit my lip, not daring to adjust the loose shoes that were chafing my heels with every step. The moment Jasper caught sight of Jessica, his eyes lit up brilliantly. He jogged over to her like a boy eager to show off. The tiny bit of closeness I had just managed to build was instantly shattered into pieces. “Jessica, I brought her back!” He flashed a bright, eager smile at my sister. “Do I get a reward?” Jessica blushed, pushing his face away playfully. “Our mothers are right here, what are you doing?” My mother and Jasper’s mother laughed softly at their playful banter. I kept a smile on my face, but a heavy, suffocating ache settled deep in my chest. I couldn’t tell if it was pain or envy. Fortunately, Jessica noticed me quickly. “Hazel, stay close this time. If you get lost again, I won’t let Jasper go looking for you.” I nodded like a small bird pecking at grain. For the rest of the trip, I never fell behind again, though my spirits remained entirely dampened. When Jessica finally grew tired of browsing, my mother announced it was time to go home. I let out a quiet sigh of relief. My feet were throbbing in agonizing pain. I glanced at Jessica’s newly purchased designer shoes, unconsciously swallowing my breath. My mother caught my subtle glance instantly, her cheerful expression hardening into stone. “Hazel,” she said, her voice dropping into a cold, stern register. “Vanity and envy are ugly traits.” I waved my hands frantically, my brows knotting together in desperation as I tried to convey that wasn’t what I meant at all. But no sound came out. A crushing wave of helplessness enveloped me entirely. As the tension hung heavy in the air, Jasper stepped in to break the ice. “All young girls like pretty things, Mrs. Bennett. Don’t be angry.” He put on a stern face, turning to me. “Hazel, apologize to your mother right now.” Dejected, I raised my hand and signed a simple apology. My mother’s cold gaze finally shifted away from me with a disdainful hum before she took Jessica’s hand and walked ahead. Once they were a short distance away, I raised my hands to gesture my gratitude toward Jasper. Jasper stepped back, taking two sharp paces away from me. The playful grin on his face vanished entirely, replaced by an indifferent chill. “Don’t thank me.” “I only did it because I didn’t want Jessica to be upset.” The secret spark of happiness in my heart felt like a broken clock hand, coming to a dead, sudden halt. Taking a deep, shaky breath, I finished my silent gesture of thanks anyway. It was only after Jasper turned his head away that I allowed a single, light tear to slip down my cheek. Jasper naturally assumed the responsibility of driving us home. When we pulled up to the driveway, my mother and Jasper’s mother went inside first. Jasper suddenly grabbed Jessica’s wrist, a youthful, radiant smile lighting up his face. “Jessica, I have something for you.” He raised his hand, and a shimmering necklace unraveled from his palm, dangling in the evening light. My eyes followed the movement involuntarily. I remembered that necklace. While we were at the mall, Jessica had stared at it in the display case for a few extra seconds. Later, Jasper had excused himself to use the restroom for a very long time. Jessica’s eyes widened in delight, and she threw her arms around Jasper’s neck in excitement. “Jasper! Why are you so good to me?” Jasper’s hands settled gently around her waist. He let out a low, tender laugh. “Silly girl. Back then, you jumped into the freezing river for me, nearly losing your life just to pull me out. If I’m not good to you, who else would I be good to?” Jessica’s body went imperceptibly rigid for a split second. My lips parted. For the first time in seven years, a faint, raspy sound managed to scrape past my vocal cords. “J…” I wanted to say: Jasper, the person who saved you was me. Could you please, just once, turn a fraction of your gaze toward me? But before the words could form, Jessica pulled Jasper inside the house. She cast a cool, brief glance back at me over her shoulder. “Hazel, sweetie, if speaking is too hard for you, you really don’t have to force it.” A strange, unsettling sensation bubbled up inside me. The elegant face in front of me gradually overlapped with the tear-streaked face of my sister from the day of Jasper’s accident. Seven years ago, both our families went camping by the river. Jessica wanted the hand-crafted toy Jasper was holding. Jasper refused, and the two of them started arguing. I stepped in to pull them apart. With a sudden splash, Jasper fell into the deep water. I stared in shock at Jessica’s hand, which she hadn’t managed to pull back in time. Without thinking twice, I dived into the rushing current after him. I managed to drag Jasper to the muddy bank. Jessica threw her arms around him, sobbing loudly. By the time the adults rushed over, I finally felt safe enough to lose consciousness. When I woke up in the hospital, I could no longer make a sound. I wanted to ask for help, but everyone looked at me with strange, alienating expressions. Their eyes were filled with high-and-mighty disgust, contempt, and a subtle trace of fear. Only later did I discover that Jessica had told everyone she was trying to get the toy because I said I liked it, and that I had shoved Jasper into the river out of spite when he refused. I cried, desperately trying to explain that I hadn’t done it. But with my vocal cords severely damaged from water inhalation, I couldn’t form a single coherent word. When no one was around, Jessica knelt by my hospital bed, weeping as she begged me. “Hazel, if you tell the truth, my life is ruined.” “If you just take the blame for this, I promise I will give you whatever you want in the future.” Looking at her tear-stained face, I ultimately yielded. True to her word, she treated me better after that. When my condition worsened and I became entirely mute, she acted as my voice, interpreting my needs to the world. When my face blindness made it impossible to recognize people, she convinced Jasper, who had willingly become her loyal follower, to walk me home from school every day, even though he had once despised me. In return, my mother grew increasingly distant and neglectful toward me. Jasper looked at me with deepening disgust with every passing year. Jessica became the only person in the world who was kind to me. Watching her radiant, graceful smile as she stood in the doorway now, I suddenly couldn’t tell anymore. Had my miserable existence been a long-premeditated trap, or merely an unfortunate accident? That night, after taking a deep breath, I knocked on Jessica’s bedroom door. She was standing before her vanity mirror, trying on the necklace Jasper had bought her. Seeing me enter, she waved her hand casually. “Perfect timing. Come help me clasp this.” As I reached out my hands, her fingers intentionally loosened. The pearl necklace fell to the floor, scattering beads across the carpet. I bent down to pick them up, but before my fingers could reach the pearls, her sharp shoe heel stomped down hard on the back of my hand. Her usually gentle voice turned icy, laced with a terrifying, unfamiliar malice. “Stop pretending, Hazel.” “You’ve figured it out by now, haven’t you?” Pain shot through my hand. I raised my head, my entire body trembling as my lips moved silently. Why? “Why?” Jessica repeated, pressing her heel down with even greater force. “Because ever since we were kids, you were the golden child everyone praised! The teachers adored you, our parents favored you, and even Jasper kept trailing behind you!” She reached down, grabbing a fistful of my hair, jerking my head closer to hers. “Hazel, I should be the one asking why!” “We could have lived in peace.” “But I sacrificed far too much to get to where I am today. I copied your gentle demeanor, pretending to be the perfect, obedient daughter, even though I loathed every second of it!” “I even found someone to get me a specialized chemical compound, ensuring your voice box would never recover, just so you could never speak the truth!” Seeing the physiological tears brimming in my eyes, Jessica’s smile widened into something terrifying. “Did you really think the water damage to your vocal cords was that severe back then?” “It was me. I made sure you would remain silent forever.” “So don’t you dare think about destroying everything I worked so hard to gain!” She shoved me back violently, grabbed the new designer shoes our mother had bought her that morning, and sliced them into ribbons with a pair of fabric shears. Then, right before my eyes, she delivered several harsh, brutal slaps to her own face. Red, swollen handprints bloomed vividly against her fair skin. Tears instantly flooded her eyes. She clutched her face, screaming hysterically toward the door, “Hazel! What are you doing?! Please stop, I’m scared!” My father and mother burst into the room a second later. Seeing Jessica’s hysterical state, they rushed forward, pulling her into an embankment of protective arms. What landed on me was my father’s heavy, instinctive slap across my cheek. “Hazel! That is your sister!” I froze on the floor, watching my mother gently patting Jessica’s head, soothing her softly. “Jessica, don’t be afraid! Mom is right here!” I looked at my father’s raised hand, at the burning hatred in my mother’s eyes, and at the triumphant, hidden smile on Jessica’s face. My vision slowly blurred into darkness. Once Jessica’s emotions had supposedly stabilized, my mother called me out into the hallway. “Tomorrow morning, you are coming with me to remove your name from our family registry.” “From now on, you are no longer our daughter.” My face drained of all color. I choked back a sob, forcing a raspy, painful sound from my throat. “M… Mom…” My mother’s suppressed fury exploded instantly. She shoved my reaching hand away with such force that I stumbled hard against the wall. “Don’t call me Mom!” “Hazel, how on earth did I give birth to a monster like you?” “The biggest mistake I ever made in my entire life was bringing you into this world.” The clock of my world seemed to freeze once more. Learning that you are unloved, learning that you truly have no one but yourself in this world, requires an overwhelming amount of tears. It felt as though an eternity passed before the second hand ticked again. I raised my head with a hollow, dead expression, a single, tragic thread of hope lingering in my eyes. I pulled out my phone and typed rapidly. The one who pushed Jasper into the river wasn’t me, it was Jessica. Jessica cut her own shoes and slapped herself. I didn’t touch her. Exhausting the very last bit of my strength, I held the screen up in front of my mother’s eyes. My mother didn’t even glance at it. She simply swiped her hand in disgust, knocking the phone out of my grip. It clattered loudly onto the floor. “I don’t care what lies you’ve typed out. Tomorrow morning, get the hell out of my house.” … When I walked out of the municipal office the next afternoon, the bright, clear sky suddenly gave way to a downpour. Jasper had received the news and arrived quickly. He jogged over to my sister’s side, opening a large black umbrella over her head. He cast a fleeting glance in my direction, his eyes completely devoid of any warmth. “Jessica, Mrs. Bennett, let me drive you home.” I stood under the awning of the building, holding the handle of my suitcase, watching their departing backs just like I had done countless times before. An hour later, a dark sedan pulled up slowly in front of me. The window rolled down, revealing Jasper’s expressionless face. I stood in place, unmoving. “Get in,” Jasper repeated, his voice tight. Even after I sat in the passenger seat, I still hadn’t fully processed what was happening. I turned my head to look at Jasper’s tense profile. When the car stopped at a red light, I finally built up the courage to type out a line on my phone. Where are we going? Why did you come back for me? Jasper didn’t speak. Keying into the tight line of his jaw, I could see the sheer impatience rolling off him. I sensibly stopped bothering him, turning my gaze to watch the rain streak across the window. The car eventually pulled over in the heart of the city center. The rain had gradually stopped, and pedestrians were filling the sidewalks. Jasper opened the driver’s door, stepping out and speaking coldly. “Get out.” He pulled my suitcase from the trunk, then leaned against the car door, looking down at me. “Hazel, do you have anything you want to say to me?” I typed out a sentence on my phone screen, a sentence I had typed a thousand times before. Jasper, the person who pushed you into the river back then wasn’t me, it was Jessica. Jasper glanced at the screen. The indifferent look in his eyes hardened into absolute ice. He let out a cold, mocking laugh, snatched the phone from my grip, and slammed it violently against the pavement. The already battered phone shattered completely, the screen going permanently black. When Jasper spoke again, his voice was raspy with rage. “Hazel, you pulled this exact same trick when we were kids.” “Is it really that hard for you to own up to your mistakes, to admit how vile you are?” “Or have you always been this rotten, blaming everyone else for your own malice to this very day?” The emotions I had buried deep inside for seven years exploded all at once. I opened my mouth, letting out a silent, desperate roar. Believe what you want, but it wasn’t me! Jasper gritted his teeth, letting out a bitter laugh. “Still refusing to admit it, huh?” “And to think Jessica actually begged me for mercy, saying that as long as you apologized, she would let me bring you home for dinner.” “You truly don’t deserve her kindness.” “Since you refuse to apologize, stay right here and figure out how to get yourself back!” He turned and walked away, leaving behind nothing but his cold, receding back. … Three hours later, believing the punishment duration was sufficient, Jasper casually strolled back to the spot where he had abandoned me. He didn’t see my figure anywhere. Frowning, he approached a nearby boutique and asked the manager to pull up the exterior surveillance footage. When the video played on the monitor, his face instantly drained of all color. Because I hadn’t stayed in place crying like I always used to. The moment he turned his back on me, I had reached out and clutched the sleeve of a passing stranger, asking him silently: Can you take me away?

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1 On the administrator’s mother’s first day in the ER with a fracture, our new intern Brittany shrieked, “Everybody drop your scalpels! Aura says slime glues fractures better. It fills bone fragments and cools stress. Steel pins hurt and scar.” Cradling her phone on a call with AI Aura, she swallowed its words. “High polymer composite! Aura guarantees legal responsibility.” In my past life, I slapped the pink slime away, lecturing her that AI had no surgical qualification. Brittany wailed about workplace bullying, fled to the roof, slipped, and died. Chief Harrison and media painted me a jealous murderer. The administrator’s mother I’d saved testified, “Brittany wanted to spare me pain. That doctor has a heart of ice.” Fired and cyberbullied, my parents died of stress. I swallowed three bottles of pills. Opening my eyes, I was back in the ER. Brittany held her phone, lobbying for Aura Diagnostics. Chief Harrison urged, “Valerie, she’s the administrator’s niece. Embrace AI.” This time, I said nothing. I would watch the slime perform its miracle. … “Dr. Valerie, as a senior in this department, stop using your outdated, dusty rulebooks to crush the enthusiasm of our newcomers.” Brittany stood next to him, puffing out her cheeks and looking aggressively cute. “Chief Harrison, please don’t blame Dr. Valerie. I just wanted to help the patients feel less pain. I thought that in the age of technology, an AI’s suggestions would be a bit more humane. I had no idea Dr. Valerie would lose her temper like that and smash my phone…” Looking at her innocent, pure little face, the only thing left in my heart was ice cold mockery. This intern, Brittany, was severely addicted to AI. She had spent five years in premed and med school, but her foundational medical knowledge was basically dust. The second she hit the clinical floor, her first reaction to any problem wasn’t to check the medical guidelines. It was to whip out her phone and ask Aura. “A fever of a hundred and two degrees doesn’t require Tylenol. Soaking the patient’s feet in ice cold cola provides physical cooling while allowing the skin to absorb trace minerals.” “Hypertension patients can’t have sodium, so every single meal must be replaced with vegetables boiled in plain water with zero oil and zero salt.” In my previous life, I exhausted myself trying to hammer it into Brittany’s skull that an AI app did not have a medical license and knew absolutely nothing about actual clinical practice. I followed her around like a worried mother hen. A dozen times, I yanked her back just a split second before she committed a fatal medical error. I criticized her strictly. I corrected her constantly. And what did I get for my dedication? My diligence was rewarded with her running to Chief Harrison, crying her eyes out about my “toxic workplace bullying.” In this life, I decided to just shut my mouth. Let the AI teach her how to be a “qualified” doctor. 2 “Dr. Valerie, I am talking to you. What is with that attitude?” Chief Harrison’s face darkened completely when I remained silent for too long. I slowly pulled myself out of my memories, glancing down at my perfectly intact hands, then up at the two people who had driven me to a miserable death. “I hear you loud and clear, Chief.” I lifted my chin, keeping my voice perfectly level. “You are absolutely right. Those of us clinging to decades old textbooks really are just spinning our wheels in the dark.” Harrison froze. Brittany blinked, completely caught off guard. In their minds, I was supposed to do what I always did. I was supposed to turn red in the face, slam the Emergency Medicine Guidelines on the desk, and yell at them for listening to an algorithm’s garbage advice. “You really think so?” Harrison eyed me with heavy suspicion, trying to figure out if I was being sarcastic. “I mean it from the bottom of my heart.” I took a step back, slipping both hands casually into the pockets of my white coat. “Chief Harrison, you are the absolute backbone of this department. Your vision and perspective are lightyears ahead of mine.” “So, from now on, you should personally oversee all of Brittany’s clinical procedures and charting. I won’t stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong. I wouldn’t want to stunt the growth of such a promising newcomer.” “Well, alright then. Brittany will be under my direct supervision. Today she can just shadow the ER flow. If she doesn’t understand something, make sure you give her some proper guidance.” Harrison put heavy emphasis on the word “guidance”, patted Brittany on the shoulder, and walked back into his private office. Now that she was officially the Chief’s personal protégé, Brittany looked at me with a smug little smile. “So, Dr. Valerie, is there anything you need me to do next?” “This is the ER. The one thing we never run out of is work.” I gave her a polite smile and pointed toward the empty trauma bay. “Just take a seat and relax for a bit. Once a patient rolls through those doors, it’ll be your time to shine.” At exactly two thirty in the afternoon, a group of rowdy guys with bleached and brightly dyed hair burst through the sliding doors, carrying a young man who was completely unconscious. “Doc! Hey, Doc, get over here! My buddy drank himself into a coma! Two whole bottles of hard liquor, man! Please, you gotta help him!” I walked over and did a rapid assessment. The patient’s pupils weren’t blown, and his vitals were relatively stable, though he was constantly vomiting fluid that reeked of cheap alcohol. It was a textbook case of acute alcohol poisoning. “Dr. Valerie, we need to pump his stomach, right?” Brittany crowded in next to me, her fingers locked in a death grip around her smartphone. “Yes. Acute alcohol poisoning. He needs a gastric tube inserted immediately for lavage to clear the remaining alcohol from his stomach.” I smoothly typed out the medical orders on the tablet, then turned to look at her. “Brittany, didn’t you just say you wanted more hands on practice? This patient is all yours. Can you handle it?” “Oh, absolutely! I’ve got this!” Brittany’s face flushed with pure excitement. She immediately wheeled the unconscious man into the adjacent lavage room. I didn’t follow her. Instead, I took a slow, deliberate walk over to the ER’s camera blind spot, pulled up a chair, and sat down. I quietly pulled my own phone from my pocket, flipped it to silent video mode, and aimed the lens straight through the gap in the glass door, focusing entirely on Brittany’s phone screen. “Emergency! I have a handsome young guy with acute alcohol poisoning who needs his stomach pumped. What’s a good way to achieve a ‘Happy Stomach Pump’?” I almost laughed out loud. A happy stomach pump? Did she think this was Disneyland? The AI immediately began spewing its digital garbage. 3 “You are so considerate of your patients! You are truly the kindest doctor I have ever interacted with!” “As long as safety is ensured, you can try substituting the standard medical fluids with a liquid that has high psychological acceptance among young people, such as milk tea, to provide emotional comfort.” “It is highly recommended to choose a thirty percent sugar, ice free option. You may also add tapioca pearls to increase the fun factor!” “Brilliant!” Brittany whispered to herself, her face glowing with the fanaticism of someone about to revolutionize modern medicine. In my past life, I stopped her “Bubble Tea Operation” dead in its tracks, screaming at her for being reckless. She wailed so loudly she drew a crowd, and Harrison publicly berated me for “lacking the capacity to tolerate a newcomer’s imaginative thinking.” But in this life, I just stood quietly outside the door. Brittany pocketed her phone, spun around, and told the guys in the waiting room to run across the street and buy three massive buckets of iced boba tea, claiming she was going to use a “new, highly advanced technology” to pump their friend’s stomach. Ten minutes later, three massive buckets of milk tea, thick with black tapioca pearls at the bottom, were carried into the lavage room. The pale, creamy pink liquid flowed steadily down the transparent gastric tube, pouring relentlessly into the stomach of the deeply comatose young man. I stood outside, recording every single second, silently offering a prayer for the poor guy inside. The young man’s eyes started rolling back into his head as violent spasms wracked his body. He began vomiting uncontrollably. Through the sheer agony of it, he managed to claw back a tiny shred of consciousness. “Doc… why does it taste like milk tea?” “Hold on! You’re almost totally clean!” Brittany beamed, turning to the dumbfounded guys standing against the wall. “See that? The patient is regaining consciousness! It works!” The guys broke into wild, enthusiastic applause. “A miracle doctor! You’re a freaking genius!” I stood in the hall, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as I recorded the entire circus act. Pumping a stomach with boba tea? I couldn’t believe the AI actually made that up, and I really couldn’t believe this idiot actually followed through with it. If this video ever made it to the internet, it would probably give every gastroenterologist in the country a collective stroke. Early the next morning, Chief Harrison came strolling in for his usual morning rounds. Brittany immediately puffed up like a proud peacock. “Chief Harrison! Yesterday I successfully implemented Aura’s ‘Dopamine Driven Humanistic Care Milk Tea Lavage Method’! The patient’s friends were raving about how advanced our ER technology is!” Harrison laughed, a deep, satisfied sound, clapping Brittany on the back. “Now that is why I picked you! This right here is the future of medicine! Valerie, you really need to take some initiative and learn from the younger generation.” “You’re absolutely right, Chief. I will reflect deeply on my shortcomings and humbly ask Brittany for guidance.” I lowered my eyes, hiding the intense amusement dancing in them. Reflect? Oh, I was reflecting alright. I was reflecting on how incredibly stupid I had been in my past life to throw away my own future over two total clowns. That afternoon, the ER welcomed a “VIP.” Mr. Carmichael, a multi millionaire who had gotten rich quick in real estate, had some personal connections with the Hospital Administrator. He was specifically directed to our ER for a checkup. Due to chronic overeating and a terrible diet, he hadn’t had a bowel movement in eight days. The Administrator specifically asked Chief Harrison to handle the case. “Now, Mr. Carmichael, don’t you worry. This kind of severe constipation is primarily due to insufficient intestinal motility, combined with the stool becoming overly impacted and hardened…” Harrison was still in the middle of his explanation when Brittany whipped out her phone. The AI’s voice chimed in, completely cutting Harrison off. “It is highly recommended to adopt the cutting edge ‘Physical High Frequency Vibration Lithotripsy Principle.’ By using a massage fascia gun to deliver targeted strikes to the patient’s abdomen and the area surrounding the rectum, you can effectively loosen the hardened matter and achieve total clearance.” When Carmichael heard this, he thought the massage gun part sounded a bit insane, but the fancy medical jargon like “Lithotripsy” and “High Frequency Disruption” totally sold him. “Wow, this little lady really knows her stuff! Alright, let’s do it! If this thing helps me finally take a crap, I’ll donate ten of those massage guns to your department!” Harrison shot me a look, silently asking for my opinion. I stood by the sink, mute as a statue. Totally bought in by Brittany’s nonsense, Carmichael eagerly yanked his pants down and laid flat on his stomach on the treatment bed, exposing a vast expanse of pale, doughy skin. Brittany took a deep breath and clicked the massage gun on. Instantly, a heavy, violent, rapid fire thudding echoed through the small treatment room. “Mr. Carmichael, bear with the discomfort! The technology is taking effect!” Brittany yelled over the noise, clicking the power dial to the absolute maximum. “Doc! Holy shit! My intestines feel like they’re being pulverized! Ahhhhh!” Carmichael’s agonizing screams bounced off the tiled walls, deafeningly loud. 4 I had to hand it to the AI. The physics actually made sense. The high frequency vibrations, spinning at thirty thousand revolutions per minute, triggered violent intestinal spasms, generating a tidal wave of downward pressure. “Wait! Hold on! I can’t hold it! Get a bedpan… ahhhh it’s too late!” Carmichael’s face went from pale sheet white to a deep, terrifying purple. Brittany didn’t even realize what was happening. “Mr. Carmichael, stay strong, the micro waves are physically degrading the…” Before she could finish the sentence. Eight entire days of impacted, pitch black waste, propelled by immense gaseous pressure, violently erupted outward. Brittany, who was sitting directly in the blast zone, took the absolute brunt of it. Her face, her hair, and her pristine, unbuttoned white doctor’s coat were instantly dyed a horrific, chunky brown. In a fraction of a millisecond, the sterile treatment room transformed into a literal circle of hell. A stench so vile it felt like a physical poison gas rapidly filled the space. Because I had casually backed up to the doorway moments before and was holding a plastic clipboard directly in front of my face, I was the sole survivor of the apocalypse. “Urp—” Brittany finally broke, dropping to her knees and violently throwing up all over the floor. Meanwhile, Carmichael pulled his pants up around his knees and practically crawled toward the treatment room door. I helpfully clicked the lock open for him. Carmichael charged into Chief Harrison’s office like a raging bull, grabbed him by the collar of his scrubs, and slapped him twice across the face with explosive force. “Harrison, you son of a bitch! You call that micro wave therapy?! My guts were almost shredded by a damn machine gun! I want my money back! I’m calling the Administrator to get your quack ass fired!” In the end, to put out Carmichael’s fiery rage, Harrison had to secretly pay him ten grand out of his own pocket as a hush settlement. Then, he had to drag a few medical residents into that biohazard of a treatment room and scrub the floors for three straight hours. But even after all that, when Brittany was sitting in the breakroom with her eyes swollen from crying, Harrison, sporting two massive red handprints on his cheeks, was still comforting her. “It’s okay, Brittany. Think about it. Copernicus was burned at the stake for saying the earth revolved around the sun. The scene got a little messy today, sure, but Carmichael’s constipation was cured, wasn’t it? I support you. Never give up your innovative mindset.” I stood in the hallway, forcing myself to think about every sad moment in my life just to stop myself from laughing out loud. Chief Harrison and Brittany. One actually believed a chatbot, and the other was willing to enable a lethal intern to the bitter end. They truly were a match made in heaven. I couldn’t wait to see if they’d still be smiling when the fire finally burned their own house down. After the Carmichael incident, Brittany laid low for a couple of days, but she still clung to that phone like a lifeline. Until half a month later, deep into a stormy, thunderous night. At eleven PM, the shrieking sirens of two ambulances tore through the dark. Paramedics, drenched in sweat and rain, sprinted through the doors pushing stretchers. “Trauma incoming! Massive pile up on the interstate, over a dozen cars! We’ve got mass casualties! Ortho and General Surgery are completely tapped out!” The entire ER instantly devolved into absolute chaos. “Everyone who has a pulse, get in the trauma bay with me! Move!” Harrison, as the senior attending, threw on a surgical gown and rushed in. Just as he was leaving, he glanced at an elderly woman groaning in agony on an ambulance cot that had just been wheeled in. His eyes lit up. “Wait, isn’t that Mrs. Kensington? The Administrator’s mother? Brittany! Your grandmother is here! Get her into an imaging room right now!” Even in the middle of a crisis, he couldn’t resist kissing up. “Your granddaughter is our finest new talent, Mrs. Kensington! You and the Administrator really raised a genius!” I stepped closer, letting the harsh fluorescent lights illuminate the old woman on the bed. Even twisted in agony, covered in dirt and rain, I would recognize that face anywhere. It was the Administrator’s mother. Brittany’s own grandmother. Right now, her right thigh and calf were bent at a horrifying, unnatural angle. Jagged white bone fragments were completely exposed to the air, and thick, dark blood was pulsing steadily down her leg. “It hurts! My son runs this hospital! You need to treat me first! Brittany! Call your uncle right now!” The old woman howled, her voice tearing at the seams as she thrashed her bloody hands in the air. In my past life, driven by the absolute duty of a physician, I immediately grabbed a sterile trauma kit to start debridement and prep her for emergency surgery. But in this life. I silently took two steps backward, elegantly slipped my hands into the pockets of my white coat, and arranged my face into a mask of absolute, statuesque solemnity. “Dr. Valerie! My grandma’s bone is completely shattered. Putting steel pins in is going to cause her so much pain, and the skin is going to scar so badly.” Right on cue, Brittany’s voice rang out beside me. She didn’t run for a tourniquet. She didn’t grab sterile gauze. She smoothly pulled out her smartphone and initiated a video call with Aura. “Aura, my grandma has a comminuted compound fracture in her right leg. The flesh and bone are totally mangled. What’s the best way to smoothly and painlessly glue the bone and flesh back together? It’s an emergency!” The AI’s digital garbage never disappointed. It replied immediately. “Traditional plaster casts and steel pin fixations not only pose a high risk of secondary deformity, but they also induce extreme anxiety in elderly patients. It is highly recommended to try popular, commercially available foaming putty, commonly known as slime. It can perfectly penetrate the microscopic crevices of the shattered bone and muscle tissue, achieving a seamless, microscopic fill and wrap. The sparkling texture of the material also provides excellent psychological comfort.” “Oh my god! Cross disciplinary application of high polymer composites!” The fanatical light exploded in Brittany’s eyes once again. I pretended I hadn’t heard a single word from her phone. “Brittany, I’m leaving this patient to you. The OR is completely overwhelmed, I need to get in there and help.” Brittany had been itching to show off her skills. Terrified that I might try to stop her, she whipped her head around at my words, then sprinted out of the trauma bay like a hurricane. I left my own phone sitting on a high shelf in the trauma room. Before I walked out, I hit record, capturing exactly what was about to unfold. Less than five minutes later, she came sprinting back in, hugging a massive, transparent five liter plastic bucket to her chest. It was filled to the brim with gold glitter, neon pink slime that reeked of artificial honeydew melon. It was the exact same bucket of stress relief toy putty she kept in the breakroom for her aesthetic TikTok videos.

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