Author: Momo Chan

In the six years we were together, I was never given a nickname. To Galen, I was either “hey,” “babe” when he was distracted, or my full name: Sally Foster. He always claimed he was a creature of habit, that he kept everyone in his contacts saved by their formal, full names. I believed him. Until the day he asked me to reply to a client text while his hands were full, and I saw the contact pinned to the very top of his list. Molly. Her profile picture was a cute, fluffy Shiba Inu. I tapped on the chat thread. The most recent message was from him, sent at two in the morning: “Insomnia again? Warm up some milk and try to get some sleep. Don’t push yourself.” Meanwhile, the day before, when my fever spiked to 102 degrees, his only text to me was: “Drink water.” I scrolled back through two years of their history. He had sent Molly sunrise greetings, late-night lullabies, and curated gift lists for every minor holiday. For me, his replies were a predictable rotation of Yeah, sure, okay, got it. The longest text he had sent me in months was a reminder to pay our shared utility bill. Everyone in his life was filed away by first and last name. Only Molly was pinned to the top, defying his own rules. That night, I opened my laptop and accepted the transfer assignment from the Vienna headquarters. He gave me the cold dignity of my full name; I would return the favor with a clean, silent exit. …… “Sally, where did you put my grey silk shirt?” The bedroom door flung open. Galen stood in the doorway, his forehead creased in a tight frown, a half-knotted tie dangling from his hand. My 102-degree fever had finally broken, but my head still throbbed with a dull, stabbing pain. I propped myself up against the headboard, feeling entirely drained. “It’s in the garment bag on the second rack of the closet,” I said, my voice raspy. He strode over, rummaged through the hangers, and yanked the shirt out with a sharp tug. “Why isn’t it ironed? I have a major pitch meeting this morning.” His voice carried a sharp edge of irritation. “I had a high fever yesterday,” I said, looking at him. “I couldn’t get out of bed.” He paused mid-button, casting a brief, assessing glance over his shoulder at me. “It’s just a cold. Take some Tylenol and you’ll be fine,” he muttered, turning back to the vanity mirror. “Drink plenty of water. Don’t just lie there all day; it only makes you weaker.” Drink water. Six years of partnership, and that was the extent of his concern for a partner burning up with a severe fever. I turned away and reached for my phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up with a notification from the HR director at the Vienna office. “Hi Sally, the transfer agreement has been sent to your inbox. We’ve booked your flight for next Friday. Does that timeline work for you?” I typed a single word in response. “Yes.” Galen adjusted his tie in the mirror and turned around. “Are you taking the day off?” “Yes.” “Great. Can you drop my car off at the dealership for its scheduled maintenance?” He tossed the car keys onto the foot of the bed. “I’m running late, so I’ll just call an Uber to the office.” “I’m still dizzy from the fever. I shouldn’t be driving.” I didn’t reach for the keys. Galen’s eyebrows knitted together again. “Why are you being so delicate lately? The dealership is barely a mile away. How hard is it to just drive it over?” I stared at his face, struck by the casual entitlement written across it. Over the last six years, he had gradually shifted all of his mundane errands onto my shoulders—picking up his dry cleaning, managing his packages, paying the bills, scheduling his car maintenance. He had stopped treating me like a girlfriend and started treating me like an unpaid personal assistant. “Galen,” I said quietly. “What?” He glanced at his watch, clearly impatient. “Where were you last night?” I asked. “I called you in the middle of the night, but it went straight to voicemail.” His eyes flickered with a brief shadow of hesitation before smoothing over. “Working late at the office. My phone was on silent.” Working late. I unlocked my phone, opened the photo gallery, and pulled up a screenshot from the previous night. It was a photo of the chat log from his backup phone, which he had accidentally left on the coffee table. “Is Molly having trouble sleeping again?” “Yeah, I went over to check on her and made her some warm milk. She’s always struggled with sleeping in a new place.” I turned the screen toward him. “Does your company’s late-night consulting work involve driving across town to make warm milk for Molly?” Galen’s face instantly paled. He took two quick strides toward the bed, snatched the phone out of my hand, and stared at the screen before throwing it back onto the mattress. “Sally, you went through my phone?” his voice rose, sharp and defensive. “You asked me to use your backup phone to send a presentation file to a client. The notification popped up on the screen.” My voice was entirely flat. “This is what you’re making a big deal out of?” He let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Molly just moved into her new place yesterday. She was scared, alone, and couldn’t sleep. What’s wrong with me going over to support her as a friend?” “A friend,” I repeated, letting the word hang in the air. “So your ‘friend’ gets a cute nickname pinned to the top of your chat, and your girlfriend of six years is saved under her first and last name.” “Are you seriously still on about this?” Galen was thoroughly exasperated now. “Sally, you know I don’t care about cheesy contact names. I’ve always been that way. Are you really picking a fight over a contact card?” “No, I’m not picking a fight over a contact card,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. “I’m looking at the facts. I had a 102-degree fever, and you told me to drink water. She had insomnia, and you drove across the city in the middle of the night to make her milk.” I paused. “Galen, is that what you call friendship?” “She’s young, Sally. She’s on her own in this city and it’s hard for her,” Galen said, his tone thick with defensive protectiveness. “You’re different. You’re independent, you can handle yourself. Why do you have to be so jealous of a kid?” Independent. Because I was strong, I didn’t deserve to be cared for. A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over me, accompanied by a faint sensation of nausea. “I’m not jealous.” I pulled the duvet back over my shoulders and closed my eyes. “Just go. Don’t miss your meeting.” Galen stood by the bed for a long moment. My unusual lack of anger seemed to throw him off balance. “Don’t be passive-aggressive,” he said, his voice softening slightly. “Look, I’ll come home early tonight and we can go out for dinner, okay?” “No need,” I said, my back turned to him. “I have plans.” “Suit yourself.” His patience evaporated. He grabbed his coat and slammed the bedroom door behind him. By afternoon, my fever had completely subsided. I got out of bed and began clearing out the apartment. The closet was packed with clothes, but only a small section on the left belonged to me. I dragged out a large suitcase and began folding my things inside. Since Vienna would be cold, I packed all of my heavy winter coats and sweaters. At the bottom of my dresser drawer, I found a small velvet box. It contained a heavy, incredibly gaudy gold heart necklace that Galen had given me for our third anniversary. I had never worn it once. I was highly sensitive to cheap metals, and the design was entirely incompatible with my professional wardrobe. When I had asked him back then why he chose it, he had shrugged and said, “I just grabbed something at the mall. Gold holds its value.” I dropped the box into a trash bag. The bag was already half-full of other thoughtless, last-minute gifts he had bought me over the last six years. Around five in the evening, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Molly. “Sally! I heard you were sick! Hope you’re feeling better!” The tone was as bubbly and familiar as if we were best friends. A second later, an image notification popped up. It was a photo of Galen with his sleeves rolled up, standing in front of a kitchen sink, fixing a pipe. The photo was taken from behind with a warm, cozy filter. The caption read: “Gav is such a lifesaver. Thank god he’s here, or my new place would be completely flooded!” I looked at the timestamp. Galen had claimed he had an incredibly important proposal to pitch and promised to come home early to take me to dinner. It was now 5:00 PM. His priority was fixing Molly’s plumbing. Without replying to her, I opened my chat with Galen. “Where are you?” Ten minutes later, he replied. “Still stuck at the office. The proposal had some last-minute edits. I probably won’t make it back in time for dinner, grab some takeout.” I stared at the screen and let out a quiet, humorless laugh. “Okay, don’t work too hard.” A few moments later, Molly texted again. “Sally, please don’t be mad at Gav. He’s just incredibly sweet and treats me like a little sister. If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll stop asking him for help.” So sweet. So considerate. She had laid out a perfect trap—if I expressed any discomfort, I was the petty, overbearing girlfriend. I typed a quick reply. “I don’t mind at all. Once he’s done with the pipes, have him mop the kitchen floor too.” I locked my phone and tossed it aside. At 8:00 PM, I was sitting alone at the dining table, eating takeout out of a plastic container, when I heard the front door unlock. Galen walked in, looking exhausted. “I thought you weren’t coming back tonight,” I said, chewing my food. He paused while taking off his shoes. “The proposal got approved early, so I managed to head home.” He walked over to the table and glanced at my takeout box. “Why are you eating this? I thought you had plans.” “I got stood up,” I said casually. He pulled out a chair, sat down, and picked up my water glass to take a sip. “I’m exhausted. Today was a nightmare, I didn’t even have time to grab a drink of water.” I stared at the glass. It was the one I had been using while sick. “Did you just come from the office?” I asked. “Yeah, where else?” He didn’t look up, already scrolling through his phone. “I see,” I nodded. “Is Molly’s apartment on the company payroll now?” Galen’s thumb froze on his screen. He snapped his head up, staring at me. “Are you tracking me?” “She sent me the photo herself.” I unlocked my phone, brought up the image, and turned it toward him. “It’s a nice shot. Very domestic.” Galen’s face flushed a deep crimson. He pushed the phone back toward me. “I just went over to help her out. It took fifteen minutes. Do you really have to interrogate me like a detective?” “Fifteen minutes?” I let out a cold laugh. “From your office to her apartment, and then back here—even without traffic, that’s a two-hour trip. What happened to your late-night proposal?” “Sally, can you stop nagging me like a bitter, insecure housewife!” He slammed his palm on the table and stood up. “I only lied because I didn’t want to deal with your endless drama. Do you have to make a federal case out of everything?” “No,” I said, packing up my takeout container and throwing it into the trash can. “I really don’t.” My quiet composure seemed to unnerve him. He softened his posture slightly, trying to sound reasonable. “She’s a young girl, Sally. Her pipe burst and her kitchen was flooding. As a friend, how could I just ignore her?” “Doesn’t her building have maintenance? Aren’t there plumbers in this city?” I looked into his eyes. “Galen, the world keeps spinning without you, but apparently, Molly can’t survive basic adulting unless you’re there to hold her hand.” “Don’t be so venomous,” he frowned. “We grew up together. She’s like family to me. Why do you always have to paint it as something sordid?” “Family?” I smiled. “Then tell her to start calling you ‘brother’ instead of ‘Gav’.” “What’s the difference?” “A big one,” I said, turning to walk toward the bedroom. “A brother is family, Galen. You’re just her favorite safety net.” “Sally!” he yelled after me. On Saturday, one of Galen’s college roommates, Jared, came back to town and organized a get-together at a local restaurant. Jared was one of the few people in Galen’s circle who had always been polite to me. Around three in the afternoon, Galen was in the bedroom picking out his outfit. “Hurry up and get changed. Jared put this dinner together, it would look bad if we didn’t show up.” “I have some work to finish. I’ll take an Uber and meet you there later.” I sat in front of my laptop, reviewing my apartment lease agreement for Vienna. He glanced at my screen, which was covered in German text. “Why do you spend so much time on that stuff? It’s not like they’re giving you a raise for it,” he scoffed, pulling on his jacket. “Just don’t be late. Don’t embarrass me.” The front door clicked shut. I signed the digital contract, letting out a long, slow breath. My flight was next Friday. Five days left. At seven, I arrived at the restaurant. When I pushed open the door to the private dining room, the noisy chatter instantly quieted. About a dozen people were gathered around the long table. Galen sat near the head of the table, and to his right sat Molly. She was wearing a loose, oversized black shell jacket. The sleeves were rolled up twice, hanging loosely on her frame to give her a fragile, delicate look. I recognized the jacket instantly. It was the expensive Arc’teryx shell Galen had bought last winter. “Sally’s here!” someone called out. Galen looked up at me. He didn’t stand, but merely pointed toward an empty chair at the far end of the table. “Sit down over there.” It was the seat furthest from him, right next to the kitchen service door where servers hurried in and out. I walked over and sat down. Molly turned to look at me, offering a sweet, innocent smile. “Sally, you made it! I’m so sorry about the jacket. It was freezing outside, so I borrowed Gav’s shell. You don’t mind, do you?” She placed a delicate emphasis on the word borrowed. “I don’t mind,” I said, pouring myself a glass of water. My voice was perfectly steady. “I wouldn’t mind if a stray dog wore it to keep warm, let alone you.” The entire room went dead silent. People exchanged uncomfortable glances. “Sally, what the hell is wrong with you?” Galen slammed his fork onto the table. “Molly was cold and borrowed a jacket. Why are you being so vicious?” Molly’s eyes instantly welled with tears. She reached out and timidly tugged at Galen’s sleeve. “Gav, it’s okay. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have worn your jacket. I’ll take it off right now.” She made a show of slipping the jacket off her shoulders. “Keep it on!” Galen pressed his hand over hers to stop her, before glaring across the table at me. “Did you forget to take your meds today? Why are you trying to humiliate me in front of my friends?” Jared quickly stepped in to defuse the tension. “Hey, come on, guys. It’s no big deal. Sally was just joking. Let’s get a round of drinks, come on!” The atmosphere slowly recovered, but I could feel the pitying, amused glances from around the table. Throughout the dinner, Molly was highly attentive. She put food on Galen’s plate, poured his drinks, and intercepted shots on his behalf, showing off her intimate knowledge of his preferences. “Oh, wait, keep the cilantro away from that side. Galen can’t stand it on his fish,” Molly laughed, stopping the lazy Susan. Someone across the table joked, “Molly, you know Galen better than his own girlfriend. Talk about a perfect match.” Molly’s cheeks flushed, and she playfully nudged the speaker’s shoulder. “Stop saying stupid things. We’re just childhood best friends, right, Gav?” Galen chuckled, taking a sip of his beer without denying it. “She’s always been like this. Just one of the guys.” I sat at the very edge of the table, a complete outsider, watching their cozy performance. I felt a sudden, profound sense of absurdity. What exactly had I been holding onto for the last six years? Midway through the dinner, Molly got up to go to the restroom. I stood up and followed her. At the vanity mirror, Molly was touched up her lipstick. Seeing my reflection in the mirror, she didn’t stop her movements. “Sally, you really don’t need to be so threatened by me,” she said, pressing her lips together and smiling at her reflection. “If Galen and I were going to happen, we would have years ago. You wouldn’t even be in the picture.” I turned on the faucet and washed my hands. “Do you think wearing his jacket makes me angry?” she turned around, leaning against the marble counter, her eyes filled with unshielded triumph. “I just wanted to remind you who has actually been by his side through everything.” I pulled a paper towel from the dispenser and dried my hands. “Molly, do you actually find some kind of cheap thrill in trying to play house with someone else’s boyfriend?” I tossed the paper towel into the bin. “I’m not playing anything,” she shrugged, wearing an innocent expression. “Galen chooses to take care of me. If you have an issue with that, take it up with him. Why are you projecting your insecurities onto me?” “You misunderstand,” I said, turning to look her straight in the eye. “I’m not angry. I just think you’re incredibly pathetic.” Her smile faltered. “What do you mean?” “Playing dumb and acting helpless just to survive on the scraps of another woman’s boyfriend.” I offered her a polite smile. “If you want him so badly, take him. I was getting tired of holding onto garbage anyway.” Three days left. My luggage was completely packed. Three large suitcases stood quietly in the corner of the guest bedroom. Galen had been incredibly busy lately, leaving early and returning late, so he hadn’t noticed anything missing from the apartment. He likely assumed I was still just giving him the silent treatment. On Wednesday morning, my phone rang. It was the primary care physician at the hospice facility where my grandmother was staying. “Ms. Foster, your grandmother’s condition has deteriorated rapidly. We need an immediate family member or her designated emergency contact to sign the end-of-life care authorization. We haven’t been able to reach your mother. Can you get here as soon as possible?” My mind went completely blank. My grandmother was my only real family left in the world. “I’m on my way!” I grabbed my bag and rushed out the door. When I reached the street, I realized a torrential storm was raging outside. The ride-share apps showed a waitlist of over three hundred people, and there wasn’t a single empty taxi in sight. With trembling fingers, I dialed Galen’s number. In this city, he was the only person I could turn to. It rang for a long time before he finally picked up. The background was loud and chaotic, sounding like a busy clinic. “What is it?” his voice was tense and impatient. “Galen, where are you? Can you drive me to Memorial Hospital? Nana is in critical condition, and they need me to sign the papers immediately,” I gasped out, my voice cracking with panic. The line went quiet for a second. “Memorial? In this weather? The highway is going to be completely flooded.” “Please, Galen, I can’t get an Uber,” I cried, tears mixing with the rain pouring down my face. “Fine, just wait for me. I’ll take care of something here and head over.” He hung up immediately. I stood in the pouring rain, staring toward the direction of the hospital, clutching my phone like a lifeline. Ten minutes passed. Thirty minutes. An hour. Galen’s car never showed up. I called him again. His phone was turned off. The rain poured heavier, soaking me to the bone. Cold and shivering, a dark, suffocating despair swallowed me whole. Finally, an empty taxi pulled up in front of me. I scrambled inside, completely desperate. “Memorial Hospital, please. As fast as you can.” When I finally reached the ICU doors, the doctor was already stepping out. Looking at my drenched, shivering state, he let out a heavy sigh. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Foster. She couldn’t hold on long enough.” In that moment, the world fell away. I couldn’t hear the doctor’s condolences, nor the frantic hum of the hospital corridor. Everything turned into a silent, blinding white. I didn’t even cry. I simply signed the documents, completed the paperwork, and handled my grandmother’s final arrangements like a lifeless machine. By the time I walked out of the crematorium carrying her urn, it was late at night. My phone finally regained signal, and several notifications popped up on my screen. It was an Instagram post from Molly. In the photo, Galen was completely drenched, holding a muddy, shivering Shiba Inu in his arms. Molly stood beside him, carefully drying the dog’s fur with a towel. The caption read: “So thankful Gav braved the storm to help me find Waffles. I don’t know what I would’ve done without him. You’re the best.” The post had been published at the exact hour I was standing in the freezing rain, waiting for him to save my grandmother. I stared at the photo. A single tear slipped down my cheek, blurring Molly’s triumphant smile on the screen. My grandmother was dying, waiting for my signature. And he was out rescuing Molly’s dog. I didn’t scream. I didn’t send a furious text. I simply tapped the heart icon to “like” her post. Then, I went home. Back in the apartment that still carried his scent, I pulled out one last cardboard box. I gathered every single thing he had ever given me over our six years together and threw them inside—the cheap gold necklace, the generic mug bought on sale, the cheap plush toys from arcade dates. I lined up my three large suitcases by the front door. Then, I slipped off the $30 silver band I wore on my finger—the ring he had bought me from a street market when we were broke college students—and placed it precisely in the center of the coffee table. Beside the ring, I placed my set of keys. At 5:00 AM, as the sky began to turn a faint grey, my phone vibrated. It was a text from Galen. “My phone died yesterday. Molly’s dog got out and I had to help her find him. The storm was so bad we got stuck at the 24-hour vet clinic. How is your grandma? I’ll try to find some time to drop by today.” How laughable. Find some time. I gripped the handle of my suitcase, took one last look at the apartment I had shared with him for six years, and opened the door. It was over. I typed out my last message to him and pressed send. “No need. We’re done, Galen.”

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My divorce from my ex-wife was a bloodbath. I threw her little lover down the stairs, leaving him fractured and bleeding out on the marble floor. In retaliation, she orchestrated a car crash that put me in hypovolemic shock. While I was unconscious on the operating table, she ordered the surgeons to harvest my corneas—not to save another life, but to throw them to the dogs. We met again five years later. She was now a high-ranking military Commander with absolute authority. And I was blind, scraping by as a masseur in a small, quiet parlor for the visually impaired. When she looked at me, her breathing didn’t even falter. I served her just like any other client. Only when she was about to leave did she finally speak. “Isaac, you’ve been away from home long enough. Surely you’ve learned your lesson by now.” “Are you really intent on keeping my child and living like this?” I rubbed my calloused fingertips together, keeping my mouth shut. She didn’t know. That crash didn’t just steal my sight. It took my baby, too. My divorce from my ex-wife was a bloodbath. I threw her little lover down the stairs, leaving him fractured and bleeding out on the marble floor. In retaliation, she orchestrated a car crash that put me in hypovolemic shock. While I was unconscious on the operating table, she ordered the surgeons to harvest my corneas—not to save another life, but to throw them to the dogs. We met again five years later. She was now a high-ranking military Commander with absolute authority. And I was blind, scraping by as a masseur in a small, quiet parlor for the visually impaired. When she looked at me, her breathing didn’t even falter. I served her just like any other client. Only when she was about to leave did she finally speak. “Isaac, you’ve been away from home long enough. Surely you’ve learned your lesson by now.” “Are you really intent on keeping my child and living like this?” I rubbed my calloused fingertips together, keeping my mouth shut. She didn’t know. That crash didn’t just steal my sight. It took my baby, too. …… A long silence stretched between us before Diana finally let out a heavy sigh. “Isaac, look at your hands. They’re covered in calluses. Do you really think you can raise a child like this?” “If you just apologize to Cody, I can take you both back to the estate today. You’ll never have to worry about money again.” I didn’t move. I simply pulled out my phone with practiced ease, tapping the screen to bring up the payment gateway. “That won’t be necessary, Commander Hogan. Just leave a five-star review if you’re satisfied with the service.” Diana didn’t move. I heard her knuckles tap rhythmically against the wooden desk—a heavy, impatient sound. “Isaac, you’re blind. What is this pride getting you?” I blinked my useless eyes, the skin tight and dry. Just as I opened my mouth to respond, her phone buzzed. Two tiny, innocent voices filtered through the speaker. “Mommy, I miss you. When are you coming home? Daddy has a fever.” “Yeah, Daddy looks really sick today, his eyes are all red. Come home and watch movies with us.” Diana’s voice softened instantly, wrapping them in a gentle warmth I hadn’t felt in years. “Mommy misses you too, sweethearts.” “Take good care of Daddy, okay? I’m on my way.” She hung up. I could feel her lingering gaze, heavy with hesitation. “Isaac, I…” her voice was raspy. I offered a small, polite smile and took a step back, clearing her path to the door. “Safe travels, Commander Hogan.” After a long, agonizing pause, the sharp click of her heels faded down the hallway. But at the threshold, she stopped. “Isaac, you never used to be this cold.” Used to be? I touched the corners of my eyes, where a phantom ache always seemed to linger. I used to cry, scream, and beg, using our child as a shield to keep her from walking away. None of it made her look back. In the end, my baby was gone, my eyes were dark, and all I got in return was a cold reminder that I had brought it on myself. Only when the outer door clicked shut did I finally relax my shoulders and slip back into the breakroom. My coworker nudged my shoulder. “You two know each other? That was Commander Hogan.” I shook my head. “Not really.” Another coworker chimed in with a chuckle. “Not really? She just bought an annual VIP pass under your name, Isaac. You’re set for the year.” “Man, she’s gorgeous. And she seems so incredibly devoted. If I had an ex-wife like that, I’d never let her go.” A bitter irony twisted in my gut. I stayed silent. But the gossip wouldn’t stop. “Seriously, though. Word is she traded a major military medal just to secure that luxury estate for her ex. What more could a guy want? People say she’s still single, living like a monk. That’s real love.” The silence in my chest suddenly snapped. I couldn’t help it. “Real love?” My voice sounded hollow even to me. “Is it real love to cheat during a marriage and father twins with another man? Is it real love to move your mistress right into that luxury estate? Is it real love to leave the husband who stood by you for ten years without even ten dollars in his pocket to buy an ice cream?” The room went dead silent. A sharp intake of breath. “How… how do you know all that?” I looked down, a self-deprecating smile on my lips. I pulled out an old, faded photograph from my wallet—the last one taken before the dark took over—and handed it to them. “Did I have nice eyes?” They murmured in agreement. “They were beautiful, Isaac.” I pointed to the hollow, scarred tissue beneath my brow. “Diana Hogan took them. Do you still think she’s a good woman?” The silence that followed was suffocating. I didn’t wait for an answer. I went back to work, letting the physical labor numb my mind. When my shift ended, I grabbed my white cane. I bought a bag of sweets and small toys, and took a cab to the quiet cemetery on the outskirts of the city. I laid them out by the cold headstone, then slowly burned them in the small iron brazier, listening to the plastic warp and the paper turn to ash. “Hey, baby. Are you warm over there?” I traced the nameless stone with my fingertips. “She came by today. She mentioned you.” “But don’t worry. She’ll never get to see you. Not in this lifetime.” The next morning, my phone rang. It was my day off, but the manager was panicked. Diana was at the shop, tearing the place apart. When I got there, her voice was low and dangerous. “If you don’t get Isaac here in five minutes, I’ll have this entire establishment shut down for a safety audit.” I paused at the threshold, then pushed the door open. “Don’t threaten them. I’m here.” She didn’t waste words. “Get your things. We’re leaving.” I stood my ground. “I won’t ask twice, Isaac.” A cold smile touched my lips. “And if I say no?” “What are you going to take from me this time?” Diana’s breath hitched. She swept a glass vase off the counter, sending it shattering across the tile. The mask of the calm, penitent ex-wife was finally slipping. We had been childhood sweethearts. When I was ten, my parents died in the line of duty, and the Hogans took me in. Back then, I was a ghost of a boy, sitting in a dark room staring at nothing. It was Diana, two years younger than me, who reached out and took my hand. She held onto it for ten years. She watched partners come and go in her social circles, but I was the only constant by her side. On my twenty-second birthday, she dragged me to the courthouse the second it opened. I laughed, calling her a puppy eager for its bowl. She pressed the marriage certificate to her chest and whispered, “I’ve guarded you for ten years, Isaac. I’m not letting anyone else steal you. A husband belongs safely in my pocket.” At our wedding, as she walked down the aisle toward me, she was already crying. She threw her arms around me, sobbing out her vows: “Isaac, I swear, it’s only ever been you. It will always be you.” After we married, she learned how to cook the spicy Cajun dishes I loved. Because I liked walking barefoot, she carpeted the entire house so my feet would never be cold. Every morning, I woke up to find my toothbrush already prepped with toothpaste. I was drowning in sweetness. Until she went away on a month-long deployment. Missing her terribly, I cooked a pot of her favorite soup and drove down to her headquarters. I pushed her office door open. Her collar was undone, her hair slightly messy. She was sitting on a junior officer’s lap, while he, holding a half-burnt cigarette, casually leaned down to kiss her lips. My entire body froze. “Diana, what is this?” She snapped out of it, pushing him away and reaching for the soup container. “Isaac, honey, what are you doing here?” My voice shook. I pointed at the man. “Who is he?” “Just a subordinate,” she said, trying to take my hand. I yanked it back. “Since when do you kiss subordinates?” The man stood up, a smug smile on his face. “You must be the husband. I’m Cody. Diana and I are strictly professional, don’t sweat it. Man, you’re handsome. If I were her, I’d have locked you down early too.” He reached out, his fingers brushing my jaw as if he wanted to lean in. I pushed him away, scowling. Cody laughed. “Sorry, man. Just couldn’t help myself. You’re gorgeous. Besides, I’m gay. Diana’s just my best friend. You have absolutely nothing to worry about.” He pulled out his phone to show me pictures of his supposed boyfriend. I looked at Diana, desperate for reassurance. “Is that true?” Diana wrapped her arms around me, smiling. “Of course it is. We’ve known each other for years. He’s like a sister to me. If there was anything between us, would I have married you? It was just a stupid joke, honey. Don’t take it to heart.” I wanted so badly to believe her. So I did. But after that, Cody was everywhere. He’d lounge around our house half-naked around her. When I voiced my discomfort, she brushed it off. “He’s just a gay best friend, Isaac. You’re overthinking it. Even his boyfriend doesn’t mind, why are you so uptight?” Her casual attitude made me doubt my own sanity. Cody was always sweet to my face, calling me his favorite brother-in-law. I convinced myself to stop being petty. I treated him like a friend, cooking extra portions for him, buying him gifts on his birthday. Then came our first wedding anniversary. Diana had been traveling out of town for “work.” I bought a beautiful silk pajama set she’d teased me about, preparing a surprise. I went to her personal assistant, my eyes bright with excitement. But her assistant couldn’t even look me in the eye. “Isaac… maybe you shouldn’t go.” “What do you mean?” My smile faltered. The assistant sighed, looking away. “She’s not out of town. She’s in the city. She’s with Cody.” I got the address. It was a cozy little apartment. The very apartment Diana had bought in my name before our wedding to give me “financial security.” Now, her lover was living in it. My knees trembled as I walked up the stairs. Through the slightly ajar door, I saw Cody gently rubbing Diana’s swollen stomach. “Our boy is kicking hard today. Sorry he’s making you so tired, babe.” Diana smiled, a look of pure tenderness on her face. “When he’s older, I’ll hand the entire Hogan legacy over to him.” My nails dug into the wooden doorframe until they bled. For a year, I had begged her for a baby. She always said she wasn’t ready. Now I knew why. She was already carrying his. I slammed the door open. “So this is what ‘busy’ looks like, Diana?” My voice sounded raw, like I was choking on glass. “Isaac? What are you doing here?” Diana immediately stepped in front of Cody, shielding him as if I were a monster. I let out a harsh laugh. “I should ask you the same thing.” She frowned, her tone dripping with impatience. “Cody just broke up with his boyfriend. He was devastated. He said he just wanted to feel what it’s like to have a family. I’m just helping him through it.” “Helping him?” My voice cracked. “Diana, where do I fit into your life?” Cody stepped out, glaring at Diana. “Diana, how can you speak to Isaac like that?” He reached for my hand. “Isaac, I just wanted a baby. Since we’re all so close, I just borrowed Diana’s womb for a bit. You don’t mind, right? We’ve never crossed any lines, I swear.” I wrenched my hand away, shaking with a violent, hysterical laughter. Right. No lines crossed. Except they’d slept together. “I want a divorce, Diana.” I turned and walked away. Back at our place, I threw my clothes into a suitcase. Halfway through, she burst in, grabbing my wrists. “We’ve been together for over ten years, Isaac. You’re really going to throw that away over this?” “You’re a spoiled rich kid who’s never held a job. How are you going to survive out there?” “That’s none of your business,” I yelled, shaking her off. She suddenly broke down, pulling me into a desperate embrace, wiping my tears. “Isaac, I’m sorry. I messed up. Please, don’t leave me. Not after everything.” “Then abort the baby!” She hesitated, but finally nodded. “Okay. I will.” I gripped her collar tightly. “And I want you to get pregnant with my baby. Right now.” She stared at me for a long time, then whispered, “Okay.” I kept her locked in that house. Day and night, it was a cycle of desperate intimacy, fertility supplements, and endless remedies. Three months later, she got pregnant. She let out a sigh of relief, as if she’d finally checked a chore off her list. But when she looked at her growing belly, there was none of the warmth she’d shown Cody’s child. She treated the pregnancy like a transaction. She did whatever I asked—prenatal exams, supplements—but her mind was always elsewhere. I told myself it didn’t matter. Once the baby came, things would fix themselves. But by the fifth month, she started slipping away again. Ignoring my calls. One afternoon, she sneaked out while I was asleep. I followed her to the old Hogan family home. Cody was rubbing her swollen legs as she lounged on the sofa, eating ice cream and scrolling through her phone—a phone she never let me touch anymore. “Only two bites,” Cody said gently. “I hate that I can’t be with you every day right now.” I pushed the door open, my hands shaking. “Diana, you lied to me.” At the sight of me, Diana’s patience snapped. “Isaac, enough! I’ve done everything you wanted. I stayed home, I gave you a baby. Cody has severe depression. He’s unstable. Do you have any idea how painful it is for me to watch him suffer on the security feeds? I’m carrying your child. Why can’t you just leave him alone?” “Because you promised!” I screamed, my fists clenched. Cody smirked subtly. “Isaac, my phone died, so I was just using Diana’s to pass the time. Even the doctor said I’m doing great, coping with my depression. I tell Diana she worries too much. She won’t let me join her missions or go on business trips anymore. But don’t worry, I’m not a freeloader. Diana’s already setting up my promotions. Soon, I’ll be able to make her my little princess.” Blind with rage, I grabbed a heavy ceramic vase from the table and threw it at him. “You disgust me!” “Cody, watch out!” Diana threw herself in front of him, catching the blow, then glared at me with pure hatred. “How can you be so vicious? You know he’s sick!” The fight drained out of me instantly. I turned and walked out. I knocked on my best friend’s door, sobbing as I told him everything. But he only frowned. “Honestly, Isaac, you’re being unreasonable. Cody’s a good guy. He just wanted a kid with Diana. Is it really worth this kind of reaction?” I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. “You actually forced Diana to get an abortion? That was a human life, Isaac. Cody never tried to take your place. You’re the one making a scene.” He turned back to his shopping bags. “By the way, it’s Cody’s birthday soon. What do you think I should get him?” A thick, suffocating weight settled in my throat. My childhood friend of over a decade was taking Cody’s side. I left his house and walked aimlessly. I wanted to buy an ice cream, just to taste something sweet, but my banking app showed a zero balance. I sat on a park bench near our estate from sunset to sunrise, freezing. When I finally stumbled back home, Diana grabbed my arm, checking me over. “Where the hell were you? I’ve been looking for you all night. You’re pregnant with my child, and you’re out running around like a child?” I didn’t look at her. I just held out my hand. “Your phone.” She hesitated before handing it over. I tried my birthday. Error. Our anniversary. Error. She bit her lip. “0613.” Cody’s birthday. My fingers trembled as I unlocked it and transferred five thousand dollars to my account. Diana looked shocked, then handed me a black credit card. “There’s no limit. Buy whatever you want, Isaac. Just stop running away.” I gripped the card, its sharp plastic edges biting into my palm. I pulled away when she tried to hug me, walking back to my room in silence. I stopped asking about Cody. I stopped caring. My baby was finally born. But he never received a single warm glance from his mother, let alone her breastmilk. The day after giving birth, she checked out of the hospital to take care of Cody. One afternoon, Cody came to see me. He held Diana’s phone, a triumphant smirk on his face. “Isaac, did you know? Diana promised she’d come take care of me once the baby was born. I told her I was just a little tired, and she held me so tight. She didn’t even blink when she found out you’d stayed out in the cold all night. It was all a show for you, Isaac. If I were her, I’d never treat you like that.” My heart shriveled. All her panic, her frantic searching—it was all an act. How many times had she played me for a fool? As I turned to leave, Cody screamed and threw himself down the stairs. “Isaac, please! I just wanted to visit! You don’t have to kill me just because you hate my friendship with Diana!” “Cody!” The next second, a stinging slap cracked across my face. Diana was already on her knees, cradling Cody in her arms. “Isaac, you are monstrous.” I wiped the blood from my lip, letting out a quiet, broken laugh. That night, she stormed into my room and grabbed my wrists. “You broke his bones, and now his vision is failing! If you’re going to be this cruel, you can give him your eyes!” “I didn’t push him! He jumped!” I screamed, shaking my head. “Liar! He’s too innocent for a stunt like that!” She dragged me toward the door. I lost all my pride. I fell to my knees, begging her. “Diana, please. My art exhibition isn’t finished. I need my eyes. Just let me finish it, let me look at our baby a little longer. Please, just give me a few months.” I was sobbing, my whole body shaking. She let out a cold laugh. “A few months? What about Cody? Can he wait?” “And the baby? You’re too malicious to raise him anyway. You’re better off blind. At least you won’t ruin him.” She dragged me toward her car. I managed to break free, grabbing our baby from his crib and running into the street. How could I protect my son if I was blind? But the next second, headlight beams blinded me. A fleet of black SUVs charged at us. There was no escape. I held my baby tight, but the impact tore him from my arms. I watched him fly through the air… She had me taken straight to the military hospital. I watched the surgical team approach me with their cold steel instruments, unable to move. I cried quiet, useless tears as they cut into my sockets, leaving nothing but trailing tracks of blood. She used to kiss those eyes. She used to tell me they were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. Afterward, she had us shipped off to a private asylum in the mountains, so our presence wouldn’t stress Cody. It was freezing, damp, and neglected. My baby lay beside me, broken from the crash. For Cody’s sake, she didn’t even care if her own son lived or died. I held his tiny, cooling body in my arms, stumbling toward the iron gates, screaming for help. But the guards only pushed me back, sending high-voltage shocks through my body every time I touched the fence. After dozens of shocks, I lay dying on the wet concrete. Someone stepped over me, spitting on the ground. “You forced Commander Hogan to abort her lover’s child, and you think she’d let yours live? Dream on.” My heart seized, a physical agony ripping through my numb flesh. I reached out for my baby, but my fingers only met ice. “Isaac, I just want you and our boy to come home. We can have a good life.” Diana’s raspy voice pulled me back to the present. I let out a dry, rattling laugh. “Our boy?” Diana continued, oblivious. “He’s three now, right? I picked out a name for him. Jamie. Do you like it?” “He needs to come home.” “Don’t you know?” I whispered. “He died in that asylum because you refused him medical care.”

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Exactly one week before Lauren and I were supposed to sign our marriage license, I canceled the appointment at the clerk’s office. My coworker noticed the notification on my computer screen. “Wait, didn’t you guys have that date locked in for months? Why’d you cancel?” I didn’t answer. I just stared down at the shared calendar app on my phone. The reminder for our wedding registration had been deleted. In its place, scheduled for that exact Wednesday, was a new entry: Take Chase to Key West. A few days ago, I had caught Lauren browsing B&Bs in Key West. When I asked her what prompted the sudden trip, she didn’t even look up from her screen. “Chase has been in a really dark place lately,” she said, her voice breezy, as if she were explaining a routine chore. “I want to take him down to the coast next week to clear his head. I’m just checking the weather forecast to map out our itinerary.” Chase was the younger brother of her late best friend, Hannah. “He has no one else left in this world, Gavin,” she had told me a hundred times before. “I promised Hannah I’d look out for him. Don’t overthink it.” But sitting there, watching the screen transition back to my home screen, a quiet, cold realization washed over me: this relationship had become entirely pointless. … When the automated text confirming the cancellation buzzed in my hand, Lauren still wasn’t home. I knew where she was. She had gone to pick Chase up from his office. Chase had posted a complaint on Instagram earlier that week, grumbling about how his new office in the suburbs was a twenty-minute walk from the train station, and how the summer humidity made him sweat through his suits. Lauren had commented under the post: I’ll pick you up from now on. True to her word, she had made the forty-minute drive every single evening since, rain or shine. It made me think of Tuesday, when our building manager called me to say a pipe had burst in our unit, flooding the bedroom downstairs. I was on my way back from a grueling out-of-town business trip and called Lauren, asking if she could leave work early to handle it. “I have to pick up Chase first,” she had told me. “I’ll get to it later.” That was the moment I realized our home, our shared life, and our future would always be put on hold for Chase. I sat on the sofa, reading the text message one more time. Your appointment at the City Clerk’s Office has been successfully canceled. The screen glare pricked my tired eyes. On the coffee table in front of me sat a scattered pile of wedding favor samples we’d ordered last week. I unwrapped a strawberry hard candy and popped it into my mouth, but as I chewed, I couldn’t taste a thing. I opened the shared calendar app again. Three months ago, I had meticulously added “Marriage License Appointment” to next Wednesday’s slot. I remembered setting three separate alerts for it, terrified we’d miss our window. The time slot was still blocked out, but the text had changed. Take Chase to Key West. The edit history showed it had been updated this afternoon. Lauren hadn’t even bothered to mention it to me. I scrolled further back through our shared digital history. Last year, on my birthday, the entry “Gavin’s Birthday Dinner” had been quietly overwritten with “Chase’s Promotion Party.” Further back still, on our fourth anniversary, the sole entry for the day read: “Help Chase look at apartments.” I was still scrolling through the years, page by page, when the front door clicked open. Lauren walked in. Seeing me sitting in the dim light of the living room, a flicker of surprise crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with her usual calm, gentle demeanor. “Why are you still up?” She set a grocery bag on the dining table. “Chase’s office gave out fresh peaches today. He doesn’t care for them, so he told me to bring them home for you.” I glanced at the plastic bag. The scent of overripe peaches was heavy and cloying. A few of them were already bruised and wrinkly, leaving a sticky, dark puddle at the bottom of the bag. “Oh, by the way,” she added, tossing her keys onto the counter. “I’m taking Chase down to Key West next week. We’ll need to push our appointment back a few days.” Without waiting for my response, she turned and disappeared into the bathroom. As the shower began to run, her phone, which she’d left on the coffee table, lit up with a banner notification. It was Chase. Hey Lauren, I picked out a couple of B&Bs in Key West. What do you think of this oceanfront place? The room with the private balcony is all yours. I’m happy to take the smaller one next to it. I stared at the glowing screen for a long time. Then, driven by a sudden, hollow curiosity, I unlocked her tablet on the side table—our accounts were synced—and scrolled through their chat history. Morning, Lauren. It’s pouring today, don’t forget your umbrella. This lunch spot is incredible. We have to go together next time. Just picked the B&B. They had exchanged over a hundred messages today alone. I backed out and clicked on my own conversation with Lauren. Over the last three days, we had sent exactly two texts. Her: Not coming home for dinner. Me: Okay. The bathroom door opened, and Lauren walked out, drying her hair with a towel. The very first thing she did was reach for her phone. As she read Chase’s messages, her features softened into a warm, tender expression I hadn’t seen directed at me in a year. She began typing a reply immediately, right there, standing less than three feet from me. She never looked up. She never asked if I was okay with postponing the wedding. I got up and walked into the bedroom. Our engagement photos were still propped up on the nightstand. In the print, I was leaning into her shoulder, laughing, while she looked toward the lens with a soft smile. I used to think that photo captured the happiest moment of our lives. Now, looking at it, I couldn’t help but wonder if she had been looking at the camera, or at Chase, who had been waiting behind the photographer to grab dinner with us. I turned the frame face down on the wood. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was an automated system notification from the clerk’s office, informing me that any rescheduled appointments required at least three business days’ notice. I deleted that text, too. The next morning was Saturday. We were supposed to go try on wedding bands at two o’clock. I had put it on the shared calendar three days ago, though I was certain the entry had been erased by now. When I woke up, the pillow beside me was cold, bearing only a faint indentation where Lauren’s head had rested. A yellow sticky note was taped to the nightstand, her handwriting hurried and messy: Chase’s car is in the shop, so I’m driving him to his shift. Order yourself some breakfast. There was no I’m sorry. There was no I’ll make it up to you. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when Lauren had stopped trying to even pretend to care. For months, I had been pouring all my energy into planning a wedding, completely blind to the gradual decay of our relationship. I crumpled the note into a tight ball and threw it into the empty trash can beside the bed. The bin was entirely empty because Lauren hadn’t spent enough consecutive hours in this apartment to generate any trash in weeks. I wandered into the kitchen. The fridge was bare. The last time Lauren had actually cooked a meal at home was a month ago, when Chase had come over. She had spent the entire afternoon preparing an elaborate roasted chicken dinner with rosemary potatoes and asparagus. But there hadn’t been a place set for me. By the time I got home from work, they were already eating. Lauren had looked up, her cheeks flushed from the kitchen’s heat. “Gavin, I left some plates in the microwave for you.” The plates held a dry mound of leftover rice and a small portion of cold, wilted green beans. She hadn’t cooked since. I decided against ordering takeout and walked down to the local shopping district instead. The jewelry boutique was brightly lit, the glass cases pristine and gleaming under the halogen lights. The sales associate recognized me immediately and hurried over with a warm smile. “Mr. Hogan! Are you back to try on the platinum bands you and Ms. Moore liked last week? I can pull them from the vault for you.” I shook my head quietly. “No, thank you. We won’t be needing them.” She blinked, caught off guard, but her professional training took over instantly. She slipped a elegant business card into my hand. “Of course. If anything changes, please don’t hesitate to reach out.” I tucked the card into my pocket. Just as I stepped out into the humid afternoon air, my phone began to vibrate. It was Lauren. “Gavin,” she said, her voice tight and frantic. In the background, I could hear the muffled, sterile chime of a hospital paging system. “Chase is having these terrible stomach pains. I had to rush him to the ER. I won’t be home for dinner, so just grab something on your own.” “Lauren, I—” Before I could finish, the line went dead. I stood near the railing of the outdoor shopping plaza, lowering the phone slowly, staring at the screen. Below me, the weekend crowd shuffled past. Couples held hands, families pushed strollers, and friends laughed over coffee. I felt entirely untethered, like a ghost hovering over someone else’s life. I walked into the nearby movie theater, bought a ticket for the first showing available, and sat in the dark for two hours without registering a single frame of the film. Afterward, I sat on a bench in the plaza and pulled up Instagram. Chase had posted a photo thirty minutes prior. Grateful to always have someone by my side when my stomach flares up. The photo showed the harsh fluorescent lights of an ER hallway. In the corner of the frame was a woman’s hand, her fingers long and slender, resting gently on the edge of his gurney. Around her wrist was the deep-blue watch I had saved up for two months to buy her for her last birthday. In the comments, Lauren had written: Always. I stared at that word until the letters blurred. I opened our chat thread again. Last month, when I was bedridden with a 103-degree fever, shivering violently under three layers of blankets, I had texted her: I feel awful. Can you come home? Her reply, sent four hours later, had been: Drink plenty of water and take some Tylenol. By the time I returned to the apartment, the sun had set, plunging the rooms into darkness. The only sound was the rhythmic, hollow ticking of the wall clock. I went into the bedroom, pulled an empty cardboard box from the closet, and began packing away every trace of the wedding. The brochures, the deposit receipts, the catering contracts, and our draft of the guest list. On Lauren’s side of the guest list, there were dozens of names I barely recognized. But at the very top, highlighted in thick red ink, was a note in her handwriting: Chase — Head Table. I flipped the guest list over and wrote a single sentence on the blank white back: Lauren, go to Key West. I’m going back to Maine. Let’s go our separate ways. Then, I booked a one-way train ticket back to my hometown for the following evening. Lauren didn’t return until well past midnight. In the quiet bedroom, the sharp, medicinal smell of the hospital drifted over me, mingled with the faint, distinct scent of cedarwood. It wasn’t my shampoo, nor was it our laundry detergent. It was Chase’s signature cologne. She moved quietly, assuming I was asleep. She slid under the covers, tugging the duvet toward her side, and let out a long, heavy sigh before closing her eyes. I lay perfectly still in the dark, watching the thin sliver of streetlamp light cut through the gap in the curtains, illuminating the nightstand. The flipped engagement photo and the handwritten note sat right there, side by side. But she didn’t look. Perhaps she never would. When I woke up, Lauren was still asleep, her brow slightly furrowed, her breathing deep and heavy. I slipped out of bed without waking her and poured a glass of water in the kitchen. Standing by the window, I watched the city wake up. Below, the local bakery was already venting warm, sweet steam into the morning air. Commuters hurried toward the train station, and neighbors walked their dogs. The world kept turning, perfectly indifferent to the fact that my life had just been hollowed out. I felt a cold draft blowing through the empty space where my future used to be. Around nine, Lauren finally stirred. She walked toward the kitchen, but her footsteps faltered when she reached the living room. I looked up. She was staring at the cardboard box sitting on the coffee table. She let out a slow, irritated breath. “Gavin, what are we doing here? What is this?” I didn’t answer. I just looked at her from the sofa. She stood over me, her arms crossed, looking down like a disappointed parent waiting for a child to finish a tantrum and apologize. “I know I haven’t been as present lately,” she said, her tone softening into that practiced, reasonable cadence. “But you have to be fair. Chase is in a really fragile state. He’s just a kid, really, and with Hannah gone, who else does he have? Just give me a little time. Once he’s back on his feet, we’ll get everything back on track.” “How much time, Lauren?” She hesitated. And in that brief silence, her phone buzzed on the counter. Chase’s name flashed across the screen, followed by an audio message. Her hand shot out to grab the phone before she could even think about what she was doing. Chase’s soft, vulnerable voice filled the quiet apartment. “Hey Lauren, thanks again for staying so late last night. I’m feeling a lot better. Are you still coming by today?” Lauren turned her back to me, her fingers flying across the screen as she typed her reply. Watching her silhouette against the morning light, the truth became painfully clear. It wasn’t that she was too busy. It was simply that her time had already been promised to someone else. I was just the placeholder, the one who could always be rescheduled, postponed, or asked to wait. I had been waiting forever. Waiting for Chase to get better, waiting for him to find an apartment, waiting for him to grow up. But there would always be another flare-up, another bad day, another car repair. “Lauren,” I said quietly. “I’m done waiting.” I opened my phone’s photo library and found a picture from last winter. It was a selfie of us in the first snow of the year. I was laughing, my cheeks red, snowflakes dusting my hair. Lauren was standing beside me, her profile elegant, a slight smile on her lips. I had always cherished that photo. But as I zoomed in on her eyes, I realized she wasn’t looking at the camera. She was looking past me, toward the entrance of the office building down the street where Chase worked. It hadn’t been a memory of us at all. I had simply stepped into her frame while she was waiting for him. Lauren finished her text and turned around. Seeing the expression on my face, her patience finally snapped. “Gavin, seriously, what do you want from me?” I offered her a small, tired smile. “I’m going home, Lauren.” For the first time, a flicker of genuine panic crossed her eyes. She took two quick steps forward and dropped to her knees in front of me, grabbing my hands. “Gavin, please, just listen to me,” she said, her words tumbling out much faster than usual. “The Key West trip isn’t what you think. I just want to help him clear his head. He’s been under so much pressure at work, he isn’t sleeping. Once we get through this stretch, things will go back to normal. I swear.” I pulled my phone out, opened the shared calendar, and held the screen up to her face. Take Chase to Key West sat mockingly in the Wednesday slot. And right below it, preserved in the edit history, was the note I had written three months ago: Marriage license appointment. Don’t forget your ID. Lauren stared at the screen, her lips parting slightly. “I… I forgot that was the same day,” she whispered, realizing how hollow the excuse sounded even to her own ears. “I was going to reschedule it as soon as I got back. It’s only a three-day trip, Gavin. We’re just pushing the wedding back a week. It’s not like we’re canceling it.” “You forgot our wedding date, Lauren.” She had no answer for that. I took my phone back and, keeping my eyes on hers, opened the calendar edit page. One by one, I began deleting the entries I had so carefully logged over the years. Lauren’s Birthday Dinner. Anniversary weekend trip. Names for our future kitten. Places we wanted to visit. My finger swiped left, delete, left, delete. The calendar emptied out, block by block, leaving only blank white squares. I turned the phone over and placed it screen-down on the table. Lauren reached out to grab my wrist, but I pulled back slightly, letting her hand fall into the empty space between us. Before she could speak, her phone buzzed again. Hey Lauren, I’m looking at flights for Wednesday morning. Is the 10:15 AM flight okay? We’d land just in time for lunch. Lauren looked at the screen, then back up at me. The apartment fell dead silent, save for the low hum of the refrigerator. I watched her hesitate. And that brief, agonizing second of hesitation told me everything I needed to know. She wasn’t debating whether or not to go; she was only debating whether to reply to him in front of me. The choice had been made long ago. I stood up, walked into the bathroom, and closed the door behind me. Sitting on the edge of the tub, I buried my face in my hands. I didn’t cry. My eyes were burning, but no tears came. There was only a profound, heavy silence inside me. This really was the end. By late afternoon, I was in the bedroom with the door locked, packing the remainder of my clothes. Through the door, I heard the muffled sound of Lauren’s voice on the phone. “He’s not feeling well? Okay… I’m on my way.” A few minutes later, the heavy click of the front door echoed through the apartment, followed by absolute silence. I zipped my suitcase, stood up, and took one last look around the bedroom. My side of the closet was completely bare, leaving only two wire hangers swaying slightly on the rack. I dragged my suitcase to the entryway. On the coffee table lay the printed itinerary for Key West, with several spots along the coast circled in bright yellow highlighter. I didn’t feel angry anymore. I just felt finished. As the elevator doors closed, I pulled out my phone, went through my contacts, and blocked her number, her social media, and her email. Five minutes later, I was in the back of a cab heading toward the station.

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My daughter ran into my bedroom in the middle of the night, sobbing and clutching her stomach. “Mommy,” she whimpered, “there are little fish swimming in my tummy.” I thought she’d just had a nightmare. I pressed my palm to her forehead—no fever. But she was sweating through her pajamas, her tiny body curled into a tight, agonizing ball. Panic seized me. I scooped her up and ran for the car. When the doctor finished the exam, his face drained of color. He didn’t explain anything to me. Instead, he walked straight out of the examination room, picked up the desk phone, and dialed 911. Within minutes, two police officers burst through the doors. Their very first question was: “Who is the primary caregiver?” My brain went completely numb. My knees gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor. 01 My daughter woke up crying at two in the morning. She padded into my room, her tiny hand pressed flat against her belly. “Mommy, there are little fish inside.” “They’re swimming.” I lifted her onto my bed, tucking her under the duvet. I felt her forehead. Cool. No fever. Yet a cold sweat was breaking out across her hairline, her small face pinched with a pain that looked far too old for her. She curled tightly onto her side, like a tiny shrimp hiding from a storm. “Vera, sweetie, where does it hurt?” “My tummy. The little fish are biting me.” Her breath hitched in short, jagged sobs, her words melting into tears. The quiet safety of our home shattered. I grabbed my coat, wrapped her in a blanket, and carried her out into the freezing night. The 24-hour pediatric emergency room was bathed in a harsh, fluorescent glare that made everyone look like ghosts. The attending physician was young, his face a mask of clinical detachment. “We need an ultrasound. Right now.” I carried Vera down the empty, echoing corridor. The ultrasound machine hummed, a low, mechanical vibration that seemed to fill the room. Vera lay on the narrow, paper-lined bed, tears pooling in her eyelashes. “Mommy, I’m scared.” “I know, baby. I’ve got you. Mommy’s right here.” My voice shook, a thin thread I was trying desperately not to break. The technician didn’t say a word. His brow furrowed, a deep crease forming between his eyes as he glided the cold wand across Vera’s small, soft belly. The monitor displayed a chaotic map of gray and black shapes that meant absolutely nothing to me. After what felt like an eternity, he clicked the machine off. “Take this back to the ER physician,” he said. His voice was flat, devoid of comfort. I hurried back to the exam room, Vera heavy and shivering in my arms. The young doctor took the report. He glanced at it, and the color instantly left his face. He stood up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the linoleum. He stared at me. It wasn’t the look of a doctor addressing a worried mother. It was the look of a detective staring at a suspect. He offered no explanation. He turned on his heel, walked out of the room, and strode toward the nurse’s station. I followed him to the doorway. I heard him lift the receiver. His voice was low, hushed, but vibrating with urgency. “Yes, I need to report a pediatric emergency at Children’s Hospital. Emergency department.” “We have a female child, age five, with suspected severe physical abuse. Multiple foreign objects detected in her abdomen.” A bomb went off in my skull. Abuse? Foreign objects? Vera was still whimpering in my lap, clutching her stomach. Before I could even process the words, two police officers burst through the double doors. Their heavy boots squeaked loudly against the polished floor as they pushed into the room. One of them, an officer with sharp, analytical eyes, locked his gaze onto me. He didn’t ask about her symptoms. He didn’t ask if she was okay. He asked: “Who is the primary caregiver?” My legs simply ceased to hold me. I slid down the wall, clutching Vera tightly, and collapsed onto the freezing floor. 02 The light in the interrogation room was even harsher than the hospital’s, draining the warmth from the air. I sat on a cold metal chair. Vera had been wheeled away by the glass doors, being prepped for emergency surgery. I couldn’t be with her, and the absence felt like a physical hollow in my chest. The two officers sat across from me. Their name tags read Collins and Taylor. Collins was taking notes; Taylor did the talking. “Name.” “Ella Grayson.” “Age.” “Thirty.” “Your daughter’s name and age.” “Vera Grayson. She’s five.” “Where is her father?” “David. David Grayson. He’s on a business trip out of state. I’ve already left him several voicemails.” Officer Taylor set his pen down and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Mrs. Grayson, the doctors found a massive quantity of magnetic beads inside your daughter’s digestive tract.” “Do you know what those are?” I shook my head, my mind a blank slate of terror. “They’re tiny, high-powered magnets. Buckyballs. They’re federally banned for children under six.” “Do you know why? Because if they’re swallowed, they attract each other through the intestinal walls. They cause perforations. Sepsis. They kill.” They kill. The words felt like physical blows, knocking the air from my lungs. My hands began to shake so violently I had to tuck them under my thighs. “I don’t know… We don’t have those. We don’t keep things like that in the house.” “Are you sure about that?” Taylor’s eyes narrowed, searching my face for any telltale sign. “Think carefully. Has anyone bought toys like that recently? Could she have gotten them at a friend’s house?” “No, absolutely not. I hand-select every single toy Vera plays with. I make sure they’re safe. I—” “Do you work, Mrs. Grayson?” he interrupted. “No. I’m a stay-at-home mother.” The moment the words left my mouth, the room seemed to drop ten degrees. “A stay-at-home mother,” Taylor repeated, his voice dripping with a quiet, devastating skepticism. “Then you tell me, Mrs. Grayson. How does a five-year-old child under twenty-four-hour supervision manage to swallow dozens of high-powered magnets?” “I don’t know!” I choked out, the tears finally spilling over. I was practically screaming, my chest heaving. “I swear to God, I don’t know!” The heavy metal door clicked open. My husband, David, burst into the room. His face was flushed, his breathing ragged, his tie askew. Behind him stood his mother, Agnes. “Officers, please, there’s been some mistake,” David said, his voice breathless. Officer Taylor glanced up but didn’t speak. David turned to me, his eyes wide and burning with a fury that made my stomach turn. “Ella! What did you do? How could you let this happen to her!” “Didn’t I tell you to keep those small toys out of her reach? Do you ever listen to me?” I froze. He wasn’t asking me what happened. He wasn’t comforting me. He was laying the blame squarely at my feet. Agnes rushed forward, grabbing David’s arm as she began to sob dramatically. “Oh, my sweet, precious baby girl! What has happened to her?” She wailed, burying her face in David’s shoulder, but her eyes darted to me over his sleeve—sharp and calculating. “Ella, we all know how exhausting it is to take care of a child all day, but how could you be this careless? If anything happens to our sweet Vera, I don’t know how any of us will survive!” Her words were like poisoned needles, sewing a narrative of a neglectful, overwhelmed mother. David’s anger flared higher. “Say something, Ella! Are you mute? What did you do to our daughter!” I looked from my husband to his mother. One was filled with self-righteous rage, the other with theatrical grief. But both of them were looking at me as if I were a criminal. My heart sank into a dark, bottomless abyss. Officer Taylor placed a black-and-white X-ray on the table. “This is your daughter’s scan.” “The magnets have clumped together, causing multiple blockages and perforations in her intestines.” “The surgery is high-risk.” “And frankly, we don’t believe this was an accident.” “We suspect someone intentionally fed these to her.” Taylor’s gaze traveled slowly from me, to David, and finally to Agnes. Then, it settled back on me. “Mrs. Grayson, before your husband returned from his trip, you were the only adult in the house with the child. Is that correct?” 03 The red light of the operating room glowed like a bloodshot eye. David, Agnes, and I sat on the hard vinyl bench in the waiting area. No one spoke. The silence was heavy, suffocating. Agnes kept up a low, rhythmic whimpering, occasionally glaring at me with eyes full of venom. David sat at the far end of the bench, his head buried in his hands, his shoulders tense. The police had allowed us to wait for the surgery’s outcome, but the look they gave me before they stepped away was one I would never forget. I was their prime suspect. An hour ago, I was just a mother terrified for her little girl. Now, I was a monster accused of poisoning her. The heavy double doors of the OR finally pushed open. The lead surgeon stepped out, pulling down his mask. His face was pale, lined with exhaustion and a deep, unsettling grimness. The three of us scrambled to our feet. “Doctor, how is she?” I gasped out first. He looked at me, his eyes guarded, then shifted his gaze to David. “Are you the father?” “Yes, yes, doctor. Please, my daughter…” “She survived the surgery.” A collective gasp of relief left our throats, but his next words dragged us straight back to hell. “We removed thirty-six magnetic beads from her digestive tract.” “Sections of her bowel had already become necrotic. We had to perform a bowel resection.” “She is very young. This surgery will have a severe, permanent impact on her digestive health.” The surgeon paused, his voice dropping to a serious, quiet tone. “Furthermore, those magnets were inside her for a long time. At least twenty-four hours.” “Why did it take so long to bring her in?” David’s face turned a violent shade of purple. He whirled on me, roaring in the quiet corridor. “Ella! What the hell were you doing yesterday? Were you blind? How could you not see she was sick!” Agnes joined in, her voice rising to a shrill shriek. “What a tragedy! My poor, sweet baby! Why does she have to suffer like this?” “I told you, David, women shouldn’t be wasting their time with online hobbies and books. She should have been watching the child, but she doesn’t care!” I ignored them. I kept my eyes locked on the surgeon. “Doctor, I have a question.” “Could a five-year-old child physically swallow thirty-six of these magnets on her own?” The surgeon blinked, realizing what I was asking. He slowly shook his head. “It’s highly unlikely. The sheer volume is too great.” “These magnets have a bitter, metallic taste, and swallowing even one or two would be uncomfortable. To ingest thirty-six… the process would be incredibly painful. Unless…” “Unless what?” I pressed. “Unless someone was coaxing her. Feeding them to her one by one, pretending they were candy.” The doctor’s voice was quiet. But in the empty hallway, each word fell like a heavy mallet, shattering the lies in the air. David’s shouting stopped. Agnes’s sobbing choked off into a sudden, suffocating silence. I raised my eyes to meet theirs. In David’s expression, I saw confusion and a dawning, terrible realization. But in the depth of Agnes’s eyes, there was a fleeting, unmistakable flash of sheer terror. In that moment, a horrifying truth took root in my mind. The police suspected me. David was eager to blame me. Agnes was doing everything in her power to paint me as the culprit. No one was on my side. No one was going to protect me or my daughter. Vera was my entire life. If I wanted to save her, and myself, I had to find the monster who did this. I pulled out my phone and dialed my friend Amy. “Amy, I need a favor. I’m coming to your place. I need to use your laptop.” I hung up and stood up. David stepped in front of me, blocking my path. “Where do you think you’re going?” “Home,” I said, my voice dead and cold. “I’m going to get some things.” Agnes immediately panicked. She grabbed David’s arm, her voice tight. “Why are you going home? Vera is lying in that bed! How can you leave her?” I looked her dead in the eyes. “I’m going home to find out who fed my daughter those ‘candies.’” I watched as her fingers dug deep into David’s arm, her knuckles turning white. Our living room had a small, inconspicuous security camera. I had installed it a year ago after a rash of break-ins in our neighborhood. It captured the entire living and dining area. The monster had left a footprint. And I was going to find it. 04 I turned toward the elevators, but David grabbed my upper arm. “Where do you think you’re going? Vera is in there!” His grip was tight, like a vice. “I’m going home,” I repeated, ripping my arm out of his grasp. “What, to destroy the evidence?” he snarled, his eyes bloodshot. Agnes threw herself at my feet, wrapping her arms around my knees and howling. “Ella, please! You can’t leave! Vera needs her mother!” “We know you’re upset, but this is not the time to throw a tantrum!” She was good. The tears and mucus smeared across her face would have convinced anyone that she was the most devastated grandmother in the world. But she was holding onto me like an anchor, desperate to keep me from moving. David stood in front of me like a stone wall. They were playing their parts in perfect harmony. And they had one goal: Keep me away from that house. Keep me away from the camera feed. The coldness in my chest solidified into absolute certainty. They were terrified. More specifically, she was terrified. I looked at them, and a harsh, humorless laugh escaped my lips. “David, what are you so afraid of?” “Me? I’m afraid you’re going to run! I’m afraid you’re going to go back and hide whatever you used to hurt our daughter!” Perfect. This was my husband. The father of my child. I didn’t waste another breath on him. I pulled out my phone, unlocked it, and dialed Officer Collins’s direct number right in front of them. The call connected. “Officer Collins? This is Ella Grayson. Vera’s mother.” Collins sounded surprised. “Yes, Mrs. Grayson. What is it?” “Officer Collins, I believe the evidence that will prove my innocence is at my house.” “However, my husband and mother-in-law are physically restraining me from leaving. They claim they are afraid I will destroy evidence.” I kept my eyes locked on David and Agnes as I spoke. I watched their expressions shift from anger, to shock, and finally, to pure, unadulterated panic. Agnes’s fake wailing stopped instantly. “Therefore, I am requesting police assistance,” I said, my voice steady, carrying clearly down the hall. “I want an officer to escort me to my home so I can retrieve my personal laptop and the cloud backup drive. I will hand everything directly over to the police.” “I want you to find the person who did this to my daughter.” There was a brief pause on the line. “Wait for us at the hospital lobby,” Collins said. “We’ll be right down.” I hung up the phone. I looked down at the two people frozen in front of me. Agnes’s grip on my leg loosened, her hands falling away. The color had completely drained from her face. David pointed a trembling finger at me, his lips parting, but no sound came out. “You… you…” “I told you,” I said, looking at him with eyes devoid of any warmth. “I am going to find the monster.” “Anyone who tries to stop me is an accomplice.” 05 The police cruiser pulled up to our suburban driveway. David, Agnes, and I sat in the backseat, wedged together in suffocating silence. The two officers sat up front. The air inside the car was colder than ice. Agnes’s hands were shaking uncontrollably. She kept her face pressed against the window, refusing to look at me. David sat beside her, breathing heavily, his eyes darting back and forth between his mother and me. Even with his thick skull, he was finally starting to realize that something was terribly wrong. Officer Collins unlocked the front door with my keys. The house was exactly as we had left it, yet it felt entirely different—cold, hollowed out, like a tomb. The black lens of the security camera sat quietly on the edge of the entertainment center, a silent, unblinking eye that had witnessed everything. “Where is the laptop?” Collins asked. “In the study.” I walked in and retrieved my laptop. Collins followed close behind, while Officer Taylor remained in the living room, ensuring David and Agnes stayed on the sofa. I booted up the laptop and connected to the Wi-Fi. I opened the security camera application. It prompted me for a passcode.

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It was the third day since my stepsister started seeing the glowing screen comments floating in midair. She was kneeling in the middle of our living room, wearing my favorite silk nightgown. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her fingers white-knuckled around three folders—our family’s potential marriage alliances. “Quanna just got back to the family,” Sophia choked out, her voice trembling with manufactured martyrdom. “She shouldn’t have to suffer for us like this. Those three marriage arrangements… I’ll take them in her place.” My father, Charles, frowned, adjusting his glasses. “One is bankrupt, one is terminally ill, and the third is confined to a wheelchair. Think carefully, Sophia.” Sophia lowered her head, her voice quivering with a delicate, fragile resolve. “I’m willing to do it.” Yet right above her head, the floating text was practically exploding with activity. [Go, baby girl! All three of these guys are future billionaires!] [In the original timeline, the sister rebuilt her entire life through them. Don’t let her touch them!] [Steal the contracts, and Sophia becomes the ultimate main character of this high-society story!] I watched her carefully orchestrated display of selflessness and felt a cold, bitter amusement bubble up inside me. In my previous life, I had indeed bound myself to those men. One saddled me with millions in debt. One systematically dismantled my career. One used me as nothing more than a pawn in his corporate game. By the time I turned twenty-seven, I had lost everything. And now, Sophia was practically begging to take my place in the slaughterhouse. I slowly set down my teacup and slipped a sleek black pen across the glass table. “Go ahead,” I said softly. “Sign them.” 1 The living room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. My father was the first to find his voice. “Quanna, don’t let pride make your decisions.” I leaned back against the plush velvet sofa. My hair was still damp from the shower, and a stray droplet rolled slowly down my collarbone, disappearing into the neckline of my robe. I felt detached, observing them like characters in a play. Sophia shot a quick look at me, a flash of smug triumph gleaming behind her tear-filled eyes. But just as quickly, she lowered her gaze again. “Dad, Quanna isn’t being childish. She just doesn’t want to make things difficult for the family.” My stepmother, Lydia, immediately welled up with tears. “Sophia, why are you being so foolish? Those alliance contracts were meant for Quanna the moment she was brought back to this house.” Sophia bit her lower lip. “I’m a Harrington, too. Quanna suffered for so many years out there. I can’t just sit here and enjoy the wealth while she takes the fall.” The comments above her head scrolled by in a rapid, neon-blue blur. [Our girl is too sweet!] [She has no idea she’s claiming three legendary top-tier leads. Hilarious! Quanna is going to regret this for the rest of her life.] [First up, Daniel Barrett. Bankrupt and buried in debt right now, but in three years his clean energy company goes public and his net worth skyrockets into the billions.] [Second, Adrian Keller. A sickly tech genius whose microchip designs will dominate the global market.] [Third, Christian Hawthorne. The exiled son of the Hawthorne dynasty who will eventually orchestrate a coup and take over the empire.] I picked up my tea and took a slow sip. It had gone cold. And terribly bitter. In my past life, I actually believed Sophia. I thought her tears were real, that she genuinely cared about me. She wept as she offered to take one of the burdens off my shoulders, and every time I stumbled into a crisis, she would stand beside me and whisper, “Quanna, I can’t do much, but I’ll always be here with you.” It took me years to realize she wasn’t keeping me company. She was waiting for me to hit rock bottom. She was waiting for me to clear the landmines on her path so she could swoop in and claim the spoils. My father pushed the folders closer to me. “Quanna, what do you say?” I stared down at the three dossiers. The first: Daniel Barrett. The Barrett family was bankrupt, drowning in litigation, and all their major projects were frozen. The second: Adrian Keller. The black sheep of the Keller family, perpetually hospitalized, notoriously volatile, running a few obscure labs that the market had already written off. The third: Christian Hawthorne. The former golden boy of the Hawthorne family, paralyzed from a car accident, confined to a wheelchair, and stripped of his succession rights. To the outside world, they were toxic waste. But the floating comments knew they were gold mines. And so did Sophia. She looked up at me, her eyes pleading. “Quanna, please don’t carry any guilt. If you just give me your blessing, I’ll take care of it all.” I set my cup down with a soft click. “Okay.” Sophia blinked, momentarily thrown off. “What?” I slid all three folders right back to her. “You said you wanted to do this, right? Don’t just make pretty speeches. Sign.” Lydia’s expression tightened. “Quanna, a marriage alliance isn’t a game.” I looked at her, a cold smile touching my lips. “Which is why I didn’t draft a transfer of marriage. I drafted this.” I pulled a fresh document from beneath the coffee table. “It’s an agreement to change the designated representative for the Harrington alliances. You’re right, a marriage contract itself can’t be easily transferred. But the legal entity representing our family in negotiations—the one who handles the joint ventures, the personal guarantees, the dowries, and the performance bonds—that can absolutely be changed.” My father stared at me, his eyes wide. “When did you prepare this?” “The day I returned to this house,” I said smoothly. “After all, the only reason you brought me back from the foster system was to use me as collateral for these three families, wasn’t it?” The silence returned, heavier this time. For a split second, Sophia’s mask of fragile innocence cracked. But the floating text only grew more frenetic. [Quanna is actually pretty cooperative!] [She has absolutely no clue what she’s giving away!] [Sign it! Sign it now!] Sophia scanned the agreement, her manicured fingers tightening against the paper. “Make sure you read the fine print,” I murmured. “Once you sign, you are the sole representative. Every loan, every joint venture guarantee, and every performance bond has your name on it. I walk away entirely clean.” She quickly forced another sweet smile. “Don’t worry, Quanna. I won’t regret this.” I handed her the pen. “Perfect.” She signed her name in a flurry of quick, elegant strokes, as if terrified I might change my mind. Just as she finished the third signature, my phone buzzed on the table. The screen lit up with the name: Daniel Barrett. I didn’t reach for it. Sophia’s eyes locked onto the screen, a hungry spark igniting in her gaze. “Quanna… it’s Daniel.” I slid the vibrating phone toward her. “He’s your Daniel now.” Sophia swiped to answer, her voice immediately dropping into a soft, breathless coo. “Daniel? It’s Sophia.” There was a long pause on the other end. Finally, a low, gravelly voice rasped, “Where’s Quanna?” Sophia looked at me, waiting. I picked up a dry towel and slowly patted the remaining moisture from my hands. “Tell him,” I whispered, “that I’ve returned the merchandise.” 2 The next morning, Sophia left for the Barrett estate before sunrise. She had carefully chosen a simple white sundress, left her hair loose, and applied barely-there makeup. She looked like a tragic angel on her way to save a fallen soul. When I walked downstairs, Lydia was in the kitchen packing a thermos of homemade broth. “Sophia, don’t let them walk all over you,” she fretted. Sophia smiled with practiced maturity. “Mom, Daniel is just going through a rough patch. You have to look at the bigger picture.” The comments above her head chimed in right on cue. [Sophia has such a great vision!] [A woman who stays by his side during his darkest hours is a woman a man will remember forever.] I grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge. “I don’t know about remembering her forever,” I remarked, twisting the cap off. “But he’ll certainly keep an immaculate record of her bills.” Sophia’s smile stiffened. Lydia whipped around, glaring at me. “Quanna! Your sister literally sacrificed herself to save you from these marriages. If you can’t be grateful, the least you can do is keep your mouth shut.” I took a slow drink. “I’m just giving her a friendly warning. The Barrett family owes a lot more than just money right now.” Sophia tilted her chin up, her expression hardening. “Quanna, I know you’re bitter. But this is the path I chose. No matter what happens to Daniel, I will never blame you.” I nodded thoughtfully. “Did you record that?” Her face went pale. I pulled up my phone and tapped the screen. “It’s fine. I did.” Her eyes instantly welled with fresh tears. “Quanna… why do you always have to assume the worst of me?” I didn’t bother to answer. There was no point. Whether she was good or bad would show soon enough in her actions. Within three days, Sophia’s Instagram feed was entirely dedicated to Daniel Barrett. The first post was a photo of them at a cheap, run-down diner. Caption: Even the bitter moments are sweet when I’m with you. The second showed a receipt from a high-end luxury consignment store where she had sold her limited-edition designer bags. Caption: Bags can be replaced. You can’t. The third was a candid shot of Daniel’s profile, his head bowed over a stack of legal documents. Caption: I believe in you. I know you will rise again. Our university group chats were flooded with praise. “Sophia is literally an angel.” “The biological sister couldn’t run away fast enough, but Sophia stepped up to suffer in her place.” “She deserves the world.” I scrolled past the comments while sitting in a quiet, private office at the bank. The banker slid a thick folder across the mahogany desk. “Ms. Harrington, here are the audited statements from your late mother’s old accounts. However, there are a few transactions from a decade ago that still require secondary verification.” I took the sheets. Near the bottom of the ledger, a specific transfer caught my eye. It was made to the Barrett family’s holding company. The amount wasn’t massive, but the memo line was fascinating: Margaret’s Green-Tech Materials Phase 1 Licensing Fee. Margaret. My mother’s name. I tucked the documents safely into my leather tote. My phone buzzed again with a text from Sophia: [Quanna, are you free tonight? Daniel wants to take the family out for dinner.] It was followed by a photo. It was Daniel sitting in a cramped, dusty office. His white button-down shirt looked worn and slightly frayed at the cuffs, but his wrist displayed a gleaming Rolex. In my previous life, that watch had fooled me. I had assumed it was the last relic of his pride, a desperate attempt to maintain his dignity. It took me years to realize it wasn’t dignity at all. It was vanity—the kind of vanity that made him prioritize looking wealthy over paying his low-wage employees. Dinner was held at an exclusive, low-key bistro downtown. When Sophia walked in, clinging tightly to Daniel’s arm, my father and Lydia immediately stood up to greet them. Daniel was tall and lean, his handsome features sharp and cold, carrying that defensive, brittle arrogance of a wealthy man who had recently lost his fortune. His eyes locked onto me, and he paused. “Quanna.” I looked up from my menu. “Daniel.” He stared at me, his jaw tightening. “You just handed our arrangement over like it was nothing?” “I didn’t hand it over,” I said, casually picking up my fork. “I cut my losses.” Sophia immediately tightened her grip on his sleeve. “Daniel, please don’t mind her. Quanna is just being defensive.” Daniel looked down at her, his voice dropping. “Do you think of me as a loss, too, Sophia?” Sophia shook her head frantically. “No! Never. I would never think that.” A tight, humorless smile crossed Daniel’s face. “Good.” He pulled a document folder from his briefcase and slid it in front of Sophia. “We’re restarting the Barrett green-energy project. But the lenders are requiring a co-signer for the bridge loan.” Lydia’s breath hitched. “A co-signer?” “It’s just a formality,” Daniel said smoothly. “As soon as the main venture capital round closes, your name will be removed from the liability.” Sophia stared at the contract, her pen hovering, sudden hesitation flitting across her face. The floating comments surged across her vision: [Sign it! This is his first step back to the top!] [Stand by him now, and he’ll reward you tenfold later!] [In the original timeline, Quanna got her massive share of Barrett equity by signing this!] Sophia gritted her teeth, her hesitation vanishing. “I’ll sign.” I set my fork down with a quiet clink. “Did you actually read that?” She shot a defensive look at me. “Are you trying to stand in my way again, Quanna?” I smiled, leaning back. “Not at all. I’m just reminding you that the term ‘co-signer’ has legal weight. It’s not a performance.” Daniel’s eyes narrowed into a cold glare. “What is your problem, Quanna?” I raised my water glass in a mock toast. “No problem at all. I wish you two a long, beautiful life together. In sickness, in health, and in joint liability.” Sophia’s face flushed a deep crimson. But that night, she signed anyway. Daniel drove her back to our estate. Before he got into his car, he stopped and looked at me under the driveway lights. “You’re going to regret this, Quanna.” I gave him a polite smile. “Pay your staff their back wages first, Daniel. Then you can worry about my regrets.” His face contorted with anger, and he slammed his car door shut. Three days later, before Sophia could even archive her romantic diner photos, Daniel’s creditors marched onto campus. They unfurled a massive red banner right outside the university gates. In bold block letters, it read: SOPHIA HARRINGTON CO-SIGNED FOR HER FIANCÉ. WHEN WILL THE BARRETT DEBTS BE PAID? Sophia stood frozen in the middle of a gathering crowd, her iced latte slipping from her hand and splashing all over her white sneakers. Right then, my phone buzzed with an unfamiliar number: [Ms. Harrington, my name is Oliver Wright. I’m ready to take on your late mother’s estate case.] 3 The day I met Oliver Wright, Sophia was trending on local news blogs. It wasn’t a national scandal, but several viral clips had surfaced of her being cornered by angry creditors outside the university library. She stood there in her delicate white dress, silent tears streaming down her face. Some comments pitied her, but most mocked her online. The top-voted comment read: ‘Imagine ruining your credit and future for a bankrupt boyfriend. Are rich girls really this naive?’ I swiped the video away and pushed open the door to the private room at the quiet cafe downtown. Oliver was already waiting. He wore a crisp black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, a thick stack of legal briefs resting on the table in front of him. He skipped the pleasantries as I sat down. “Your mother’s estate is far more complicated than you think, Quanna.” “If it were simple, I wouldn’t need the city’s sharpest attorney,” I replied. He studied me for a brief second before opening a file. “The twenty-one percent stake your father currently holds in Harrington Group originally belonged to your mother’s pre-marital startup. Furthermore, a substantial portion of the trust funds under your stepmother’s name can be traced back to your mother’s intellectual property royalties. The issue is time. The paper trail has some critical gaps.” I slid the bank records I had obtained across the table. “Will this transfer to the Barrett family bridge that gap?” Oliver flipped to the final page, his eyes narrowing as he read. “Margaret’s Green-Tech Materials Phase 1 Licensing Fee.” He tapped his finger against the paper. “You handed the Barrett contract to Sophia on purpose, didn’t you?” I didn’t deny it. “Before the Barretts went under, they held a sub-licensing agreement for my mother’s early patents. If Daniel wanted even a ghost of a chance at a comeback, he had to revive that project. And the moment he did, the original licensing contract would have to be brought into the light.” Oliver looked up, a faint glint of amusement in his eyes. “You weren’t worried she might actually help him succeed?” I smiled. “She wanted a future billionaire. But she forgot to check how deep the financial grave is before jumping in.” Oliver’s expression remained professional, but his gaze softened. He pulled another document from his briefcase. “Daniel registered a new corporate entity this morning. The named President and Registered Agent is Sophia Harrington.” I took the document. There it was in black and white: Sophia Harrington. I couldn’t help but laugh. “She certainly moves fast.” “Your sister likely views this as a grand gesture of trust,” Oliver said quietly. “Isn’t it?” “It’s a liability shield,” his voice was cool, analytical. “If the company goes under or gets sued, the registered agent is the first one they serve.” I set the paperwork down. “Then let’s make sure it does.” Oliver’s fingers paused over the file. “Within strictly legal boundaries, of course,” I added. He stared at me for a long moment, as if seeing me clearly for the very first time. “You aren’t nearly as fragile as the rumors suggest, Ms. Harrington.” I took a sip of my coffee. “I used to be. But the price was too high.” Oliver didn’t press further. He simply slid a second folder toward me. “Your mother’s patents weren’t just licensed to the Barretts. Adrian Keller’s current research lab is also utilizing a core framework that looks suspiciously identical to her designs.” I stared at the name. Adrian Keller. My second potential suitor. In my previous life, he had demanded my absolute devotion. He made me quit my internships, cut off my friends, and withdraw from competitions just to manage his lab’s administration. He used to tell me, “If you want to stand beside me, Quanna, you need to stop wasting your time on trivial things.” But when his breakthrough finally came, he locked me out of the gala dinner. His excuse was that I didn’t hold an official title in the company. Sophia had walked right past me, her hand wrapped around his arm, whispering, “Quanna, don’t be mad at Adrian. He just respects corporate protocol.” I tapped my fingers against the warm ceramic of my cup. “How long until we can move on the Barrett family?” “Very soon,” Oliver replied. “Daniel is using the old technical patents to secure his new round of funding. The moment those filings go public with your mother’s original licensing codes, we have the legal standing to demand discovery of the original agreements.” Right on cue, my phone began to vibrate. It was Sophia. I pressed answer, and her hysterical crying filled the line. “Quanna… please, can you come to the Barrett office? Daniel says there’s a problem with the financing documents. These investors… they keep saying I’m the registered agent, and they’re holding me personally responsible!” I switched the call to speakerphone. Oliver leaned back in his chair, quietly listening. “I thought you said you wouldn’t blame me, no matter what happened to him,” I said calmly. Sophia choked on her breath. “But I didn’t know being the President of the company meant all of this! Quanna, you were the one originally engaged to him. Can you please talk to him? Please?” I let out a soft laugh. “Sophia, this is the very first test of being a billionaire’s partner. Are you giving up already?” The line went completely dead. I hung up. Oliver slid a sleek business card across the table. “I’ll accompany you tonight.” I looked at the card. “I didn’t think a partner at your firm had this much free time, Mr. Wright.” His eyes met mine, steady and unwavering. “Our first piece of hard evidence should surface tonight. I wouldn’t miss it.” At seven that evening, Oliver and I walked into the Barrett corporate office. Sophia was huddled in a chair in the main conference room, her eyes swollen. Daniel stood by the window, his expression dark and tense. On the glass table lay the venture capital prospectus. On the very top page, a specific patent serial number was highlighted in yellow: WT-NY-07. My mother’s project code. As soon as my fingers touched the paper, the door swung open. Daniel glared at me from across the room. “Who gave you permission to touch my files?” Oliver stepped forward slightly, shielding me with his frame. “Mr. Barrett, from this moment on, every word in these files is considered active evidence in my client’s case.” 4 Daniel looked at Oliver’s card, his expression instantly souring. “An attorney?” Oliver placed the card neatly on the table. “Oliver Wright. I represent Ms. Quanna Harrington in the investigation regarding the estate and intellectual property assets of her late mother, Margaret Harrington.” Sophia stood up, looking lost. “What estate? Quanna, I thought you came here to help me.” I kept flipping through the documents on the table. “I’m here to help myself. And to see how your future billionaire plans on taking flight.” Daniel lunged forward to grab the folder, but Oliver held down the edge with a firm hand. “I wouldn’t do that, Mr. Barrett. This prospectus references proprietary technology owned by my client’s mother. If you can provide a valid, legal license for its use, we can discuss terms. If not, we will file for an immediate injunction to freeze these assets.” A vein pulsed in Daniel’s temple. “Quanna, do you really have to destroy everything I’ve built?” I met his gaze coldly. “When you held back three months of pay from your employees, Daniel, no one accused you of being unfair. I’m just playing by the rules.” Panic set in on Sophia’s face. “Daniel, what is going on?” Daniel ignored her completely, keeping his eyes on me. “It’s just draft paperwork. We were on a tight schedule, so my team used the existing files. We were planning to update them later.” “Submitting inaccurate patent information to federal lenders is a serious compliance violation,” Oliver noted, his voice smooth and dangerous. Sophia’s face drained of color. “But… my name is on the registration. I’m the one who signed off.” No one in the room answered her. The reality finally broke through her denial. She whipped around to face Daniel. “You told me being the registered agent was just a formality!” Daniel frowned, irritated. “Sophia, this isn’t the time. Just go out there and keep the institutional investors calm for five minutes.” She looked at him in disbelief. “Me? How? I don’t even understand what this technology does!” Daniel’s voice softened into that practiced, manipulative tone. “When you signed those papers, didn’t you tell me you trusted me completely?” At those words, Sophia’s tears finally spilled over. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. In my previous life, he had used those exact words on me when I asked why my name was listed on his personal loans. “Quanna, didn’t you say you’d stand by me through the darkest times?” Now that it was Sophia standing in my place, he didn’t even bother to change the script. The heavy doors to the conference room burst open, and three representatives from the venture firm walked in, looking furious. “Mr. Barrett, the patent rights on this energy project are heavily contested. We can’t move forward with this round. Who is the registered corporate officer here? Sophia Harrington? We need an explanation immediately.” Sophia shrank back as they surrounded her, her fingers shaking violently. She looked at me, terrified. “Quanna… help me.” I took a step backward toward the exit. “Don’t look at me. I already returned the merchandise.” The floating screen above her head was flashing erratically: [What is happening? Why is Daniel throwing Sophia under the bus?] [This must be a test. Every lead has a rough period where he tests his partner’s loyalty.] [Hold on, Sophia! Once you pass this, you’ll be a billionaire’s wife!] Sophia seized onto those words like a lifeline. She quickly wiped her cheeks, steeling herself. “Yes… it’s just a test.” She turned to the investors, her voice trembling but determined. “Gentlemen, we will resolve the patent dispute immediately. The Barrett clean-tech project is the future of energy.” Daniel’s expression relaxed slightly. “Sophia. Sign this amendment on behalf of the firm first.” Oliver spoke up, his voice quiet but sharp enough to cut through the room. “That amendment carries personal, unlimited liability.” Sophia’s pen froze just millimeters above the signature line. The room fell dead silent. Daniel stared at her, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. “Do you not trust me, Sophia?”

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My breakup with Aaron Lockhart was far too polite. It was civilized. Dignified. Which is probably why it took until the second year after we parted ways for me to finally admit the truth to myself: Aaron had never loved me. His split from his new flame, however, was a spectacular, tabloid-worthy disaster. Even my Nana, who usually paid absolutely no attention to society gossip, was utterly captivated by the drama playing out on our small television. It was nothing like our quiet end. No screams, no broken plates. For Aaron and me, it had been a single, soft “goodbye,” and then—nothingness. But as Nana watched the broadcast, her brow suddenly furrowed in deep concentration. “Vera, sweetie,” she muttered, squinting at the screen, “why does this young man look so familiar?” I was holding two different diamond rings under the jeweler’s loupe, comparing their cuts, and answered without looking up. “He’s practically royalty in the city, Nana. You’ve probably seen him on some news segment.” Nana fell silent for a moment, then slapped her knee. “I remember now!” she gasped. “He came into the shop yesterday while I was watching the counter. He ordered two diamond rings—and he specifically asked for you to hand-deliver them!” 01 My hands froze. The two rings slipped through my fingers, clattering onto the glass counter before bouncing onto the floor. I scrambled to pick them up, my heart hammering against my ribs. I forced a tight laugh, looking up at Nana. “You must have him confused with someone else. He’s in New York, Nana. We’re all the way in Newport. Why on earth would he come to our little shop?” There was another truth I kept to myself: Aaron was impossibly fastidious. He was a man who wore custom Tom Ford and wouldn’t dream of wearing socks that weren’t designer. There was no universe where he would step foot into a no-name local boutique like ours to choose an engagement ring. But Nana was resolute. “No, I’m sure of it. A face that handsome isn’t easy to forget.” She hobbled toward her bedroom, her limp more pronounced today. I quickly followed, hovering nearby in case her balance gave out. After rummaging through her dresser, she pulled a crumpled slip of paper from her apron pocket. The elegant, sharp handwriting on it made my chest tighten. Two diamond rings. Pickup in two weeks. Nana looked at me with an apologetic sigh. “Oh, my foolish head. Ever since the accident, I can’t keep things straight. I forgot all about this order.” “It’s okay,” I whispered, trying to soothe her. “I’m sure we can still manage it.” My eyes drifted to the date stamped at the bottom of the slip. Two weeks ago. The breath caught in my throat, and my smile froze. 02 After making sure Nana was comfortable, I rushed out to the shop. It wasn’t a large boutique, but it demanded constant attention. The margins were razor-thin, the expenses were overwhelming, and I couldn’t afford to hire staff. I had to do everything myself. When I was stretched too thin, Nana would try to help me watch the counter. Like two days ago. My friend Hannah’s daughter had a parent-teacher conference, but Hannah and her husband were stuck out of town. She had begged me to go in her place, offering to help Nana get an appointment with a renowned specialist in return. I had agreed. But I hadn’t realized that leaving the shop for just half a day would lead to this. I had forgotten to check the weather forecast before leaving the house, and by the time I was halfway to the shop on my old bicycle, a cold coastal drizzle had begun to fall. By the time I arrived at the storefront, I looked like a drowned rat. As I struggled to unlock the heavy metal security grate, cold water splattered against my bare shins. Suddenly, footsteps echoed on the wet pavement behind me. A reflection stretched across the puddle at my feet—the silhouette of a tailored suit, a glimpse of a Patek Philippe watch, and a man impatiently tapping the handle of an umbrella. I turned around slowly, already knowing who I would see. Aaron stood there, his lips pressed into a thin, displeased line. “So this is your shop?” he said, his voice carrying that familiar, low-frequency judgment. “You told me you wanted to take the world by storm. Is this the grand result?” I forced a professional smile. “Mr. Lockhart. Are you here to collect your rings?” Aaron stared at me, his eyes dark. “You look pale. Don’t tell me you haven’t even started them.” The customer is always right. I bowed my head slightly, offering a practiced apology. “I am incredibly sorry. They aren’t finished yet. Could you possibly give me a little more time?” Aaron continued to stare, his gaze heavy and unreadable. I shifted under his scrutiny, feeling utterly exposed. When we were together, I had never bowed my head to him. To meet again like this, with me shivering and soaked, felt like a quiet humiliation. Aaron’s brow furrowed—his signature sign of impatience. But before I could offer another apology, the passenger door of the sleek black Mercedes parked at the curb opened. The woman from the tabloids—the one at the center of his recent media storm—stepped out. She held up her white designer dress, stepping daintily to avoid the puddles. She reached to loop her arm through Aaron’s, but he smoothly turned away, pretending to adjust his coat. “I told you we shouldn’t have commissioned rings from a place like this,” she complained, her voice dripping with artificial sweet sweetness. “There are so many elite jewelers in Manhattan. Why come all the way here? Now our engagement party is going to be a mess.” “I am deeply sorry,” I interjected quickly. “When is the engagement party? Perhaps I can rush the order.” She looked at me critically. “Three days from now. Can you actually manage that?” As long as the design wasn’t overly intricate, I could. I knew Aaron’s tastes; he favored clean, classic lines. Nothing ostentatious. Just as I was about to nod, Aaron cut in. “I want to add an engraving,” he said. My phone was dead, so I frantically fumbled in my bag for a pen and a damp notepad, gesturing for him to continue. I had only managed to get the security grate halfway up, and the rain was picking up, blurring my vision. Perhaps worried I wouldn’t capture his instructions properly, Aaron reached out and tilted his umbrella over my head. I looked up, offering a small, grateful nod. Aaron’s throat bobbed, and he averted his eyes. “Make sure you write this down. I want engravings on the inside of the bands.” “Engrave the letter V in the women’s ring.” “And the letter A in the men’s.” My pen stopped. I looked up at them, stunned. The woman smiled warmly, stepping closer. “Our initials. Vicky and Aaron. Oh, where are my manners? I’m Vicky West.” She looked at Aaron, then back to me. “Aaron, it seems like you two know each other. Aren’t you going to introduce us?” After five years of silence, how were we supposed to define what we had been? I stood there, frozen. But Aaron spoke with perfect, cool detachment. “This is Vera Ward. We went to college together.” Vicky smiled and extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure, Vera.” I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat and forced myself to take her hand. “Nice to meet you, Miss West. I’ve heard a lot about you.” 03 And I had. Long before today. Back when Aaron and I were together, her name would frequently slip from his friends’ lips. They would often adopt a hushed, wistful tone whenever they spoke of her. “If Vicky hadn’t left for Europe,” they would say, “Aaron wouldn’t have become… like this.” I never understood what they meant by “like this.” To me, Aaron was a perfect partner. He was emotionally stable, gentle, and in all the years we spent together, we never once had a screaming match. Whenever a conflict arose, he would calmly sit down and analyze the pros and cons with me. If other men tried to pursue me, he would dismiss them with effortless, polite grace. Once, while having coffee with Hannah, I was listing his virtues when I noticed her expression turn complex. “You’ve never had a single fight?” she asked. “Never,” I replied. “And when that young guy from next door kept asking for your number, Aaron didn’t react at all?” I thought back to that afternoon. “No. We’re adults, Hannah. Why would he get upset over a kid?” Hannah sighed and turned her phone screen toward me. She had been texting her own boyfriend: Just grabbing coffee with Vera. Some guy just tried to get her number. The indicator showed the boyfriend was typing, erasing, and typing again. Finally, a message came through: Okay. Come home the second you’re done. A second later, another text popped up: I’m literally going to lose my mind if you don’t. I couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s not very different from Aaron.” “It’s entirely different,” Hannah countered gently. “Don’t you see, Vera? You two don’t fight because Aaron has no sense of possession. He doesn’t get jealous. Sometimes, I honestly wonder if he’s capable of loving you at all.” She patted my hand. “Anyway, let’s not talk about him. Happy birthday, sweetie.” All the way home, Hannah’s words echoed in my head. When I unlocked the door, I found Aaron sitting in the living room, reading the evening paper. On the coffee table sat a birthday cake. It had clearly been sitting out for hours; the frosting was beginning to melt. Seeing me enter, he smiled. “Happy birthday, Vera. I bought you a new bag. See if you like it.” Normally, regardless of what he bought, I would smile and tell him it was perfect. I never wanted to be the difficult girlfriend. But tonight, with Hannah’s words ringing in my ears, a sudden, childish urge took hold of me. “I don’t like it,” I said. In truth, Aaron had immaculate taste. It was exactly the kind of bag I loved. I stood there, waiting for him to show some flash of anger. Aaron blinked in surprise, then let out a soft laugh. “Well, looks like my streak of guessing right has ended. What would you prefer instead? I’ll get you whatever you want.” My voice rose, thin and sharp. “Don’t you even know what I like?” The words left my mouth, and instant regret washed over me. It was the first time I had ever raised my voice at him. Aaron fell silent for a moment. He folded his newspaper, his expression returning to its usual, calm composure. “I’m sorry. I should have paid closer attention to your preferences. I’ll make sure to get it right next time. For now, why don’t you keep the bag anyway? I have an urgent meeting to attend, so I have to head out. I hope you understand.” As if to prove his point, his phone began to vibrate. He answered it, and as he listened, his expression darkened in a way I had never seen before. It must have been a severe crisis. He gave me a brief nod, ignoring the melting cake, and turned toward the door. For some reason, I called out to his retreating back. “Aaron. Someone asked for my number at the cafe today.” The words felt pathetic the moment they left my lips. Our unspoken rule had always been to never interrupt each other’s work. Aaron paused, his shoulders tightening. I could tell he was incredibly stressed. But out of sheer, polite habit, he gave me a measured response. “That’s nice. Have a good time.” But his voice sounded strained, almost tight. The door clicked shut. I sat alone on the sofa, staring at the gift I had claimed to hate. I took a bite of the melting cake. It tasted incredibly bitter. The television was still on, playing a late-night entertainment news broadcast. “…Vicky West, heiress to the West Group, returned to the country today. Miss West, after so many years abroad, do you have anything to say to the cameras?” The woman on screen smiled with radiant confidence. “Of course. I returned for one specific person. The brilliant Aaron Lockhart. I believe he’s attending the gala tonight.” My spoon froze halfway to my mouth. “I hear he has a girlfriend now,” the reporter prompted. “Is that a regret?” Vicky laughed softly. “It’s a pity we missed our chance back then. But I wonder if he’d do me the honor of having dinner tonight?” Suddenly, the reporters in the broadcast began to clamor, rushing toward the background of the shot like bees to a flower. Through the crowd, a familiar face appeared. Aaron offered a polite, measured nod, his eyes locking with Vicky’s from across the room. I squeezed the metal spoon until my knuckles turned white. In all our years together, Aaron had never allowed us to appear in public. He kept our relationship entirely private. When I asked him why we couldn’t go public, he told me it was to protect me. I had graduated from the same university as him. My starting point in life wasn’t as high as his, but I had worked tirelessly to build a name for myself in my field. I wasn’t wealthy, but I was respected. Yet, he had bypassed all his rules of “protection” to stand in the spotlight for Vicky West. 04 On my twenty-fifth birthday, I finally understood that love is a luxury I couldn’t afford to waste my time on. Before the broadcast could even finish, my phone rang. It was our neighbor. “Vera, you need to come to the hospital right away. Your Nana is having another episode. She doesn’t know where she is.” I turned off the television and rushed out the door. Nana’s dementia was worsening. By the time I reached the hospital, she was staring at me blankly, asking who I was. She had wandered out of the house in a state of confusion and had been struck by a car. The impact had fractured her tailbone, leaving her unable to stand. The driver had fled the scene, and though the police had been called, there were no leads. Fortunately, her confusion was temporary this time. After a while, she squeezed my hand. “I’m so sorry for being a burden to our Vera.” I tucked the blanket around her shoulders. “You’re never a burden, Nana.” I was an orphan, abandoned at birth. Nana had found me and raised me on her own. She never had children of her own; I was her daughter in every way that mattered. But with her condition deteriorating, she couldn’t be left alone. My current corporate job paid well, but the hours were brutal. I had already written my resignation letter, planning to find something local that would give me the flexibility to care for her. I asked the neighbor to watch over her for an hour while I ran back to our apartment to pack some essentials. I expected the apartment to be empty. But when I opened the door, Aaron was sitting on the sofa, holding my resignation letter in his hand. His brow was furrowed, his finger tapping rhythmically against the coffee table. “Are you unhappy at work?” he asked, his voice calm. “Is someone making things difficult for you? Why are you resigning?” I kept packing, my hands moving quickly. “Nana needs full-time care. This job takes up too much time.” Aaron’s expression tightened. “This job is a perfect stepping stone for your career. You have a real future there. Why didn’t you consult me before making this decision? You’re throwing away your hard work.” It was the first time he had ever spoken to me with such disapproval. It was true that Aaron had helped me secure that job. Early in my career, because of my appearance, I was often dragged to corporate dinners to act as arm candy for clients. During one of those dinners, Aaron had walked into the room. He had looked at me, his eyes freezing. I had been terrified. He had asked me out that night, and I had lied, telling him I had to work late on a design draft because my pride wouldn’t let me admit I was being forced to attend a drinking event. My lie had been stripped bare in an instant. My boss had practically forced me into the seat next to Aaron, pouring a glass of whiskey and telling me to toast him. The amber liquid in the glass seemed to mock my fragile dignity. Aaron’s face had gone cold. My boss, misinterpreting his silence, grabbed my arm to pull me up. “Stop acting pure. If you knew who he was, you’d be begging to get close to him. I’m giving you an opportunity—” The sound of a chair scraping against the floor cut him off. Before anyone could react, Aaron took the glass of whiskey and poured it directly over my boss’s head. The room fell into a stunned silence. “I believe this lady is a valued member of your design team,” Aaron had said, his voice quiet and lethal. “This display makes me seriously question the professional standards of your firm.” From that day on, I was never asked to attend another client dinner. Later, Aaron had asked me why I didn’t just walk out. “Nana needed surgery,” I had told him with a tired smile. “I needed the bonus from that project. If I quit, I wouldn’t have received a dime.” Aaron had clenched his jaw. “You have me. What were you afraid of?” “No one can guarantee you’ll be here forever,” I replied. Perhaps even then, I knew we wouldn’t last. Even after that night, he had never introduced me to his world. But today, he had stood proudly at Vicky West’s side. I kept packing, but my tears finally broke, spilling silent and hot down my cheeks. Aaron didn’t notice. He stared at the resignation letter, his voice restoring itself to that maddening, logical tone. “What’s wrong, Vera? You seem emotional today. If there’s an issue, we can discuss it rationally.” Rational. Always so rational. For once, I wanted to see him lose that perfect composure. I wiped my nose and spoke softly. “Aaron, let’s break up.”

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One week before my bonding ceremony with Kane, he left to pick up my best friend, Lyra. They were traveling back to our sacred lands together. While I waited, I was scrolling a private forum for our kind. It was called “Moonshadow Whispers.” A thread popped up: “What’s the most reckless thing you’ve done this year?” The top comment was from my own tribe, Blackrock. “My bestie is about to become our tribe’s Luna. But I started a forbidden affair with her Alpha. It’s an amazing secret to have. I get double the attention, double the rare tributes. The thrill of being the secret favorite is intoxicating. He gave me his secondary sigil, the one representing the tribe’s treasury. My combat skills are nothing special, but I still outrank my ‘best friend’ on the council…” Someone in the comments asked why they didn’t just get together. “Are you kidding me? The entire tribe watched them for eight years. I’m not taking the fall for breaking a sacred bond. I’ll enjoy what we have until the ceremony. That’s more than enough for me.” A soon-to-be Luna. An eight-year relationship. A seat on the council… I tried to convince myself it was all just a horrible coincidence. In response to the doubters, she posted a picture. It was a photo of two hands, intertwined. “See this? He’d just returned from a border patrol. I complained my medicine box was too heavy. Without a second thought, he left his official mate in the freezing snow. Just to come back for me.” The memory of that biting wind hit me. My fingers started to tremble with rage. I zoomed in on the photo, my stomach churning. On their wrists were matching silver cuffs. The laurel pattern was unmistakable. I had forged them myself. She was clearly proud of her little games. “Besides, the forbidden fruit is always the sweetest. I can use his favor to climb the tribe’s ladder for more power, more resources. And powerful males? There are plenty of others out there.” The comments exploded, calling her shameless. Asking how she could do that to her best friend. “Sorry? For what? I’m the one who delivered his courting rune etched on birch bark. I played matchmaker for them in the shadows. She never would’ve landed a pure-blooded Alpha like him without me.” She deleted the picture of their hands. Then she posted a new one. A set of expensive leather armor, forged by a Dwarven master. “See? It’s not like I treat her badly. I just wanted some private time with him before the big day. After all, his days of holding back that final mark are almost over.” The notifications kept popping up. Each one felt like a hammer to the skull. The world started to spin. After our bonding date was announced, Kane moved out. He left the stone house we’d shared for years. His excuse was renovating the Alpha’s nest. And he said he wanted every detail to be perfect for me. Lyra would always tease me about it. She’d say how devoted he was, pouring everything into one woman. I remember them sharing a look then. A knowing, meaningful smile. Then he turned to me, his voice full of warmth. “My Elara deserves the very best.” For the last six months, he barely touched me. He claimed he was saving his primal energy for the ceremony. So our union would be blessed by the Moon Goddess herself. I was so confused that I even confided in Lyra. I asked if our passion was fading after so long. She just laughed and told me not to be silly. She said it was proof of how much he cherished me… So his “saving the final mark”… It wasn’t for me, was it? It was for her. Looking back, I must have looked like such a fool. Just a pawn in a game they played together. Played by the two people I trusted most in the world.

The thirty-minute drive felt like an eternity. The snowy landscape blurred in and out of focus. As their car pulled into view, I took a deep breath. I had to crush the rage boiling inside me. Kane rushed over the second he was out of the car. He wrapped my frozen hands in his, warming them against his skin. Then, he pulled a warm stone pouch wrapped in animal skins from his coat, still radiating heat. “My poor Luna, waiting out in the cold. The wind turned your eyes red.” Behind him, Lyra’s expression faltered at his words. But the moment I looked at her, her eyes were bright with joy again. She stepped forward, tying a handmade fur scarf around my neck. “Sorry, Elara! I promise I won’t dawdle at the market next time.” I smiled and took a step back, avoiding her touch. “It’s fine. Let’s just get back to the tribe.” “Good thing the trading post was still open,” Lyra added. “We almost missed getting Solstice gifts for the elders.” Kane shot her an annoyed look. “Oh, please. You say that every year. You’re better with the elders. Always finding out what they need, stealing my credit. We even bought the same enchanted massage stones this time…” Lyra always seemed so carefree, but she could be incredibly thoughtful. Her parents died in a tribe war years ago. My own mother and father raised her like a daughter. She always said she was my sister. She scoffed, turning back to Kane. “Enough chatter. Don’t let my sister freeze.” Kane put his arm around my waist, pulling me close. He opened the passenger side door for me. I saw the familiar leather armor on the seat. Next to it was a matching warm stone pouch. What truly turned my stomach was the smell. Their scents, tangled together, clinging to him. And the barely-hidden swelling on both of their lips. I snapped back to reality. Lyra was heading for the back seat. My hand shot out, grabbing her arm before she could get in. I needed to switch places with her. “Lyra, I’m tired. The back is bigger. I want to sleep.” She nodded instantly, grabbing a soft fur blanket for me. She even fluffed up a pillow. During the drive, she looked at Kane in the rearview mirror. “So, have you two set an exact time for the bonding ceremony?”

Kane hesitated, his eyes finding mine in the rearview mirror. “Whatever Elara wants,” he said softly. I stayed silent, letting the silence hang in the air. The mood in the car instantly turned to ice. Lyra scoffed, breaking the tension. “Always ‘whatever Elara wants.’ If other tribes heard Blackrock’s future Alpha was so whipped, they’d laugh themselves sick.” A frown creased Kane’s forehead. “They already know, don’t they? Thanks to your big mouth, you’re the one leading the tribe in teasing me.” They both laughed, moving on from the topic. Soon, they were swapping stories about the tribe council. My duties were hunting and defense, a world away from their politics. I didn’t know half the names they were throwing around. I used to think their constant bickering meant they clashed. Now, it just sounded like flirting. I could just imagine them, acting like this during council meetings. I was supposed to be promoted to Chief Strategist. My record was spotless—I’d repelled rivals and led successful hunts. I had earned the elders’ highest commendations. But my proposal for new hunting grounds got stalled. “Council procedure,” the head elder had told me, his face full of regret. “Our hands are tied, Elara. We’ll revisit it after the ceremony.” Meanwhile, Lyra joined Kane on a few border patrols. And suddenly she got a promotion for ‘outstanding performance.’ Straight into the tribe’s inner circle. The pieces started clicking into place. Two months ago, I saw scrolls on her table. Urgent plans for resource allocation. The runic script… it was undeniably Kane’s. That was when he started taking ages to answer my messages. Sometimes he’d just disappear for days. I actually felt sorry for him, thinking he was buried in tribe business. He’d hold me and whisper in my ear. “It’s for our bonding ceremony, for our future. It’s all worth it.” The next day, gifts would appear at my stone house. Gowns from Elven weavers, brilliant jewels. He’d arrive with the finalized ceremony plans, an apologetic look on his face. “This is to make up for being away so much, my love. I promise, our ceremony will be the grandest this tribe has ever seen.” All his hard work, all his grand promises. They were never for me. They were for Lyra.

And what a fool I was to believe his flimsy excuses. Kane’s father, the current Alpha, was still in his prime. There was no emergency big enough to keep a future Alpha working overtime. The thought was a cold knife twisting deep in my gut. Then came the white-hot rage of betrayal. Lyra was a wreck after she failed her adulthood trials. I was the one who got her a position on the Council, starting as a scribe. She had sobbed with gratitude. “Elara, what would I do without you!” Her skills were mediocre, at best. Even Kane’s parents, the current Alpha and Luna, had warned me. They said I was misusing my influence. I was exhausted back then, working myself to the bone. After a long day’s hunt, I would teach her for hours. I walked her through every complex scroll and rune. Until, slowly, she earned the council’s approval. And how did she repay me for all of it? My eyes burned, and I squeezed them shut. My parents were waiting at the sacred grounds for the ceremony. I just had to get through this. Then, I’ll settle this score. Maybe a part of me wanted to kill any hope that was left. On a dark impulse, I contacted a Shadow-Walker. He was a master of tracking and stealth. His mission: map out every move Kane and Lyra had made for the last six months.

I opened my eyes just as the car rolled to a stop. The first thing I saw was their hands, clasped together because they thought I was asleep. They snatched them apart the second they saw me. I pretended not to notice. My hands trembled, but I forced them steady and opened the door. I acted completely normal, walking with them towards my parents’ home with the gifts. “You’re back!” My parents met us at the door, their faces breaking into wide smiles. “There’s something we wanted to discuss with you!” My mother took Kane’s hand. “After the ceremony, tradition says you must take Elara to visit the elders of the branch tribes. Your announcement was so rushed, they didn’t really get a chance to meet her.” Lyra shrank into a corner, her face a mask of disappointment. Kane agreed to everything, but his eyes kept darting toward her. A flicker of irritation crossed his face. Only after my mother finished did Lyra manage to crack a smile. “Auntie, I can’t make the Winter Festival feast this year. My long-lost relatives are coming to visit.” My parents just nodded, handing her the generous festival gifts they’d already set aside. That night, Kane lay beside me, tossing and turning. He took my hand. “Elara, the ceremony is so close… I feel this strange panic.” I closed my eyes in the darkness. “Then let’s put it off.” His breath hitched, and his voice became urgent. “No! I meant we should move it up. I want to mark you sooner. I want to make you my true, my one and only Luna…” Those words made me think of the forum posts. I cut him off. “You said you wanted my help managing the tribe’s wealth, right? Then give me the secondary sigil, the one controlling the Alpha’s treasury.” Kane didn’t hesitate. He lit a moonstone, pulled the sigil from his coat, and gave it to me. It was the secondary sigil, alright. But my wolf’s intuition screamed at me. This wasn’t the original sigil he’d inherited from his father. He kissed my forehead. “There. Now I can finally relax…” In the middle of the night, Kane’s communication crystal began to glow. He slipped out of bed and into dark, traveling clothes. The soft click of the door sent my heart plunging into an icy abyss. The resignation letter I’d agonized over all afternoon… I no longer hesitated. I sent it to the Elder Council through our mental link, resigning all my duties. Once he was gone, I grabbed my father’s hornbow and quiver. And I followed him.

Waiting outside a tavern in the neutral zone, just beyond our borders… Was Lyra. Under the dim light, they fell into a tight embrace. The sight was a searing brand on my eyes. I captured the moment on a memory crystal. Then I turned and fled into the night. This was a thousand times more brutal than just reading words online. Out in the snow, a growl finally tore from my throat as tears froze on my face. By the time I stumbled home, dawn was breaking. In the stone refuse pit outside, I found them. The gifts my parents had so carefully picked for Lyra, tossed out with the trash. My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms. To see their kindness treated like garbage… my heart broke for my parents. It was only then I truly understood. I never really knew Lyra at all. Maybe she hadn’t changed; she had just always been a master of deception. Just then, the anonymous account posted an update. It started with a complaint. “Her parents gave me such flashy, impractical gifts. It’s not even close to what I deserve for all my efforts…” Not even close? Those words sent a chill down my spine. My parents helped repair her stone house every single year. They cleaned for her before every festival, roasted her favorite cuts of meat… They knew she was alone, so they always gave her the best part of the hunt. The most precious herbs. And that was what she called “not even close.”

I watched in disgust as she listed her so-called favors for my parents. “Kane is the one who really treats me right! He gives me the best of everything. It’s just a shame…” The first picture was of her room, piled high with rare goods from him. The second picture showed the secondary sigil. Beside it, a man’s dark silhouette stood by a window. She liked and replied to a comment calling me inferior. “Everyone praises me for my beauty and my free-spirited nature.” “My so-called best friend is just an uptight bore. Kane’s always complaining she’s too intense. She never lets him lead. She’s so desperate for the current Alpha’s approval. Always trying so hard so that his friends won’t look down on her. She never has any time for him…” “It’s pathetic. She insisted on teaching me combat skills. She was worried I couldn’t survive in the tribe on my own.” “But why bother with all that? All you have to do is bat your eyelashes at the Alpha. Honestly, I think she just used me to look like some big-hearted saint.” More and more people joined the conversation. Some even started asking her for advice. She started a private group chat using a mental link, and my burner account got an invite. Someone in the group asked her if she liked Kane or was just using him. “Of course I like him! Why else would I bother breaking up a union blessed by the Moon Goddess?” “But honestly, I’m furious with him since we got back to the sacred grounds. He keeps talking about how he can’t wait for the ceremony, how he truly loves her.” “Then he tells me I’m his exception, his thrill… For once, his honesty is just sickening.” Back on her main account, the comments section exploded with hate. “All of you hating on me are just jealous. A powerful female uses every asset she has. And that includes my own body. Why in the world wouldn’t I?”

Her reasoning was garbage, but she was right about one thing. Even if it wasn’t her, it would have been someone else. Within a day, furious tribe members had her account shut down. But I’d already saved everything. The Shadow-Walker I’d hired was efficient. He sent back memory crystals filled with footage of their trysts. Every night they were on “patrol,” they’d book adjacent rooms and only use one. And Kane, to avoid any suspicion, would call me on our mental link right on schedule. He was a natural-born actor. If I hadn’t seen that forum, I would have walked blindly into that ceremony. But maybe it wouldn’t have gone so smoothly anyway. After all, Lyra had another “surprise” in store for me… I sat in my stone house until dawn, my eyes stinging. That’s when I realized the stress had left me with a burning fever. Kane returned with a feast for breakfast, but I was too weak to even move. He went pale, his face a mask of guilt. “This is all my fault. I kept you out in the snow too long the other day.” He gently wiped sweat from my forehead, fed me bitter herbs… Then he went to the kitchen, skillfully making a nourishing broth. My parents watched, praising him as the perfect partner. My heart just ached with bitterness. He looked utterly exhausted, but his face lit up instantly. The designer had delivered the ceremony invitations, embossed in gold thread. “Elara, you have to get better soon.” He pulled out a recording crystal. “You’ll look so beautiful in your gown. I’m going to capture the whole thing…” I didn’t say a word. I just closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep.

For the next few days, Kane was gone. He claimed there was urgent tribe business, so he lived in the council hall. I kept my replies short, not asking a single question. The night before the bonding ceremony, we young people gathered for a game. Truth or Dare. When they both lost a round, I asked them the same exact question. “Are there any secrets between you two that I don’t know about?” Lyra’s smile froze. “Of course not! We’re an open book. You know everything about me.” Kane couldn’t look me in the eye. “Nothing from me. You’re my future Luna. My partner for life. Trust is everything.” On the morning of the ceremony, he was nowhere to be found. He missed the sacred rites for our ancestors, leaving all our guests waiting. His message finally came through the link: “My love, there’s an emergency at the border.” My parents told him the tribe came first, then looked at me, words caught in their throats. “Mom, Dad, there’s something I need to say…” Just before she deleted her private group, Lyra sent one last message. “Let’s spend one last full moon together, just us.” The days flew by. I never went back to the council. Instead, I booked a caravan pass to the neutral city, leaving that very day. Kane handed me the official invitations. He just assumed I was on leave for ceremony prep. Never once asking why I’d vanished from my duties. Right before the ceremony, I handed a spare gown to Lyra. “Lyra, I have a little surprise planned. I need your help.” At the ceremony site. Lyra ran up to Kane, flustered, dressed in that stunning gown. She held up a communication crystal. “The Alpha and Auntie have both cut me off! I can’t reach them on the link. Where are they?” The color drained from Kane’s face. “That’s the gown I picked for Elara! What are you doing wearing it?” Before he could say another word, the enchanted screen behind the altar flickered to life. It was meant to show our tribe’s history. But instead, it showed Kane and Lyra’s secret life together. A collective gasp went through the crowd. Every werewolf in attendance stared in disbelief. But the final image was the real bombshell. An encrypted medical report from our tribe’s own healer, taken by the Shadow-Walker.

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Back in New York, my first surgery was on a young woman with fibroids. While signing the consent form, she was still whining to her boyfriend on the phone. “It’s literally a minor procedure. Did you really ditch a huge deal and fly back from London for this?” “And stop buying me bags and jewelry. I seriously have no room left.” She handed me the form. My eyes landed on the emergency contact line. Ethan Hayes. Same name as my boyfriend. I smiled politely. “What a coincidence.” She took my hand, looking utterly innocent. “Doctor, are all guys named Ethan this obsessed?” “I swear he did this to me. He’s so clingy. Like… scary levels of energy.” “I just wanted a few quiet days, but he found out and flew back anyway.” I froze, almost saying my Ethan wasn’t like that. My Ethan was composed. Polished. Married to work. An untouchable tech elite with a cold, almost ascetic edge. She held up her phone and showed me her lovesick boyfriend. My heart stopped. On the screen was my boyfriend of three years. Ethan Hayes. Smiling at her like she was his whole world. … But my Ethan was never clingy. Never the lovesick type. Even at our most intimate, he always held something back. Tiffany kept bragging. “Okay, Dr. Reed, consent form’s done. Do you need anything else?” I kept a professional smile. “I still need your allergy history before we can finalize the surgical plan and date.” She tapped her forehead and wrinkled her nose. “Oh no. I left my file at home after my premarital checkup. Looks like the surgery has to wait again.” I looked up and blinked it back. “You’re married? You look barely out of college.” She smiled at me innocently. “Yep. We got married on May 9 last year. It was my birthday.” “You have no idea how scared he was I’d run. I was still at Columbia—hadn’t even graduated yet—and he dragged me to the City Clerk’s office, like I’d marry someone else if he waited another second.” “Back in college, he bought a place right by campus to look after me. He’s so clingy it’s suffocating.” She flicked her wrist, looking mock-annoyed. Under the desk, my hand wouldn’t stop trembling. May 9th. The day my mother died.

I’ll never forget that date. That day, I called him over and over. Just wanted to tell him how shattered I was. How badly I needed him there. Even just one hug. What I got instead was a cold text. “Clara, I’m sorry. The company’s at a critical stage right now. I really can’t get away.” “Don’t worry. Once things calm down, I’ll make time to visit your mom’s grave.” So he wasn’t too busy. He was busy marrying someone else. “Doctor? Dr. Reed?” Tiffany’s voice pulled me out of it. She stood up and gave me an awkward smile. “So… should I go home and get the file?” I stood too. “I’ll come with you.” She blinked. “Wouldn’t that be too much trouble?” “Not at all. The sooner we do the surgery, the better. Delaying it won’t be good for your health.” We went downstairs together and got into her car. It was a custom-modified Mercedes-Benz G-Class. Luxury everywhere, but with soft, girly touches in every detail. On the drive, she just kept talking. She told me about the Caribbean islands they’d visited, the Michelin-starred restaurants they’d gone to, and the first night they crossed the line… Her smile was sweet. And unbearable. I stared out the window as the city blurred by, thinking about the future Ethan and I used to plan together. Then the car stopped in front of a luxury high-rise. Sutton Tower. One of the most exclusive buildings in New York. We used to say that after we got married, we’d buy the penthouse there. Turns out, before I ever got a wedding, someone else became the lady of the house. The second I stepped inside the apartment, I froze. The interior layout. The design style. Every single detail. It was exactly like the floor plans I had once sent Ethan.

“This place is gorgeous. Did you design it?” I thought maybe we simply had similar taste. She handed me a glass of water and laughed. “Really? Thanks. But Ethan designed it.” “He said he based it entirely on what I like. Guess he knows me pretty well.” “Look, he even added that little ledge next to the toilet so I can put my phone there.” I went still. That ledge was my idea. One winter night, I was curled up in our tiny rental, eating takeout and sketching our future home on my tablet. I pointed at the screen and walked him through every little idea I had. I thought he was listening because he was building our future. Turned out, I designed someone else’s love nest. Tiffany dragged me around to show me her “castle.” Another woman was living in the home I had designed. It felt like swallowing broken glass. On the second floor, a door swung open and a white poodle ran straight into Tiffany’s arms. “My baby!” she squealed, kneeling to pick it up. “Why are you always this excited to see Mommy? You sweet thing.” Then the dog turned. And ran straight at me. Its tail went wild. It rubbed its head against my leg and leapt up at me. My whole body locked up. The fur. The way it moved…

Tiffany walked over, laughing. “Dr. Reed, wow. Casper really likes you.” “At this rate, he likes you more than me.” My throat tightened. “His name is Casper?” “Yeah. He’s five.” She petted his head and said casually, “I’ve only had him for two years, though. Ethan got him from a friend.” “He said he didn’t want me getting lonely at home, so he found a sweet, gentle dog to keep me company.” I let out this awful smile. Of course it felt familiar. My grandmother gave me that dog before she died. I raised him for three years. Then one day he vanished. I thought I had lost him. I cried for a week straight. Ethan held me while I fell apart and said, “Don’t cry, Clara. I’ll always be with you.” He wasn’t lost after all. Ethan had given him away—just a gift to please his new girlfriend. Tiffany pushed open the bedroom door and started looking for her medical records. But my eyes got stuck on something mounted to the wall. A handwritten weekly schedule. It was Ethan’s handwriting. Clean. Sharp. Monday through Sunday, every day was packed with chores. Laundry. Vacuuming. Tidying up. “What is this?” I asked, and my voice shook. Tiffany glanced over and smiled. “Oh, that’s Ethan’s daily checklist.” “I’m kind of a clean freak, and I don’t like strangers in the house, so I have him handle all the chores.” She rested her chin on her hand, her eyes shining with happiness. “And honestly? He’s pretty good at it.” I stood there, a chill running through me.

When Ethan and I lived together, we had a cleaner. Sometimes I couldn’t even stand looking at the mess, so I washed his shirts and socks myself. Now he was happily doing all of it for someone else. “Found it!” Tiffany said, pulling out a file folder and handing it to me. “Doctor, is this the one?” I opened it numbly. Every signature line for spouse or family contact said the same name. Ethan Hayes. I knew his handwriting better than my own. I swallowed the pain in my chest and said evenly, “Yes. This is fine. I’ll let you know the surgery date.” I turned to leave. Tiffany grabbed my arm. “Doctor, don’t rush off.” “It looks like it’s about to rain, and it’s almost dinner time.” “Weirdly enough, I feel like we really clicked. Stay and eat with us.” “Ethan makes an amazing Beef Wellington.” He cooked? We were together for years, and that man barely stepped into a kitchen. Before I could refuse, she had already pushed me onto the couch. Then she called him. Her voice turned instantly soft and spoiled. “Ethan, where are you? Hurry home and cook.” The voice on the other end was familiar. And completely foreign. Gone was the cold distance I knew. In its place was warm, indulgent affection. “My little troublemaker, I was waiting outside the hospital with a thousand roses for you, and you just slipped away without a word.” A thousand roses. In five years, the most he ever sent me was a dozen. On my birthday. And his assistant bought them. Tiffany pouted into the phone. “That’s what you get for wasting money. Just get home. We have a guest, and she’s waiting to taste your famous cooking.” He laughed. A full, open laugh I had never heard in my life. “Okay, okay. Yes, Your Majesty. I’m on my way.”

I sat there on the couch, barely breathing. My nails dug into my palm until the pain turned sharp. A thousand roses. Picking her up at the hospital himself. Calling her little troublemaker. Laughing like that. None of that was ever mine. I couldn’t even picture the Ethan I knew in an apron, standing in a kitchen. I was still trying to come up with an excuse to leave when lightning split the sky outside. A second later came the low roll of thunder. I covered my ears on instinct. But the violent crash I braced for never came. I slowly lowered my hands. Tiffany smiled at me. “Doctor, are you scared of thunder too?” I nodded. It wasn’t fear so much as trauma-driven terror. She pointed proudly at the windows. “You’re fine in this apartment.” “Honestly, even if a bomb went off outside the door, you wouldn’t hear a thing.” “When Ethan found out I’m scared of thunder, he had the whole place upgraded with top-tier soundproofing.” “The thunder barely gets through.” I just stood there. And the way I’d covered my ears seconds earlier felt pathetic. When I was a kid, I survived a major car accident in a thunderstorm. After that, heavy rain and loud thunder always triggered me. I shake, break out in cold sweats, and want to curl into a ball. I told Ethan about it once over text. He just laughed it off. “Come on, Clara. It’s not that bad. You just miss me, don’t you?” “Baby, I’m about to jump into an international meeting. Get some sleep. Goodnight.” That was it. On those stormy nights, I wrapped myself in blankets and shook through it alone. Sweat soaking the pillow. Biting my hand so I wouldn’t cry out. So no, he did believe me. He just didn’t care. Because I wasn’t the one he cared about. Dazed, I reached for the glass on the coffee table. My hand slipped. Water spilled onto a stack of papers nearby. A title flashed across the page. Accident Investigation Report.

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On the day of my coming-of-age ceremony, Seraphina, my “best friend”, broke our promise. She said she was going to the Red Sand Desert for the Blood Moon festival. I stood at the portal to our pack’s Sacred Grounds, Ancestor’s Peak, in a panic. She had promised to come with me to Moonlight Lake on the Sacred Mountain. That’s where I was supposed to make my first-bite confession to Kael. It was the end of a ten-year crush. A ritual meant to bind our fates together. Uneasily, I looked at Kael, my childhood friend. Kael was polishing his silver dagger. He said casually, “Why don’t we go to the Red Sand Desert instead? I heard the Blood Moon there is incredible.” I stared at him, then shook my head. “Ancestor’s Peak has a moon too. If she doesn’t want to keep her promise, fine. We’ll go without her.” Kael looked up and turned his claw-phone toward me. The screen showed the payment page for a Blood Moon Feast pass. He smiled. “That’s the problem, Elara. I don’t want to go anymore either.” … “Why?” I bit my lip. Behind me, the pack Elders were already calling us forward. The portal to the Sacred Grounds was about to close. Kael glanced at his screen, smiling to himself. “Check Seraphina’s HowlNet. I just realized Red Sand might be worth it.” I opened her profile. “You may not go to Ancestor’s Peak with me, but the moonlight in Red Sand is beautiful. Scars, sandstorms, and wolf howls will all become part of my awakening.” Underneath was a photo of her bag and a one-way pass to the desert. I looked up at him. “So that’s it? You’re leaving me behind to go with her?” Kael sighed and rubbed my head, the way he always did. Like a big brother. “Elara, I can’t protect you forever. You need to learn to hunt on your own.” “I have my own instincts. My own wants. Those matter too.” “The Blood Moon there is rare. I want to see it for myself. So don’t look at me like that, okay?” He held my gaze. There was tenderness in his eyes. Resignation. Even pleading. But not the possessiveness I wanted—the fierce, instinctive claim of a mate. A bad feeling rose in my chest. Wolves with the same instincts always grow closer. I wanted to grab his arm like before. “Kael, can’t you choose our pack’s Sacred Mountain?” Can’t you choose me?

This time, he pulled his hand back without hesitation. “Just this once, okay?” Behind me, the Elders were already urging me on. I looked at him and said nothing. All I could think about was the ceremony I had prepared for him— the moon phases, the Sacred Grounds, the ancient rites, the seven-day plan I had rewritten countless times, all for one purpose: to tie my fate to his. Was I really supposed to give that up? Not just the ritual. But him. Just like that? I turned away, biting back a sob, with one thought stuck in my head: why had Seraphina chosen now to break our promise? If she hadn’t, would he have gone with me? Kael raised a hand, then lowered it again. My throat tightened. “Then let me go to the Red Sand Desert with you, okay?” He said nothing for a long time. At last, he began, haltingly, “All right—” I was already moving. Bag in hand, I ran into the portal without looking back. We had grown up together. I knew what his silence meant. His furrowed brow had always been more honest than his words. He didn’t want the desert’s Blood Moon. He wanted the one waiting for him there. In the end, we were the same. After the coming-of-age rite, we had both wanted to give our first bond to the person we loved. I ran as if I could leave betrayal behind.

The Sacred Grounds was too pure for a lone wolf like me. Its power hit too hard, and the wolf power inside me began to slip out of control. My body burned as if I’d been thrown into flame. A red glow pulsed beneath my skin. I’d even had three nosebleeds. I crouched by the mountain path, clutching a moonstone and drawing in its faint energy. At that very moment, in the Red Sand Desert, Seraphina twisted her ankle during the festivities, and Kael carried her to the healing tent. Later, she posted a message: Lucky I had you. You value my life more than I do. That was why he had taught me to hunt alone. So he could go take care of another wolf. I heard it from the other young wolves too. Kael and Seraphina had taken the same Griffin Express to the Red Sand Desert. So it hadn’t been impulsive. Maybe he had known from the start— I was going to confess to him at the Sacred Grounds. Maybe Seraphina had told him. During coming-of-age season, travel passes to the major territories were almost impossible to secure. Kael’s trip to the Red Sand Desert wasn’t last-minute. He and Seraphina had booked it together long ago. I covered my face, wanting to cry, but I was too drained to manage even that. I lay in a cave at the Sacred Grounds all afternoon. Only then did I have the strength to call Kael. The call connected almost immediately. Kael answered. Distance and interference blurred his usually gentle voice. The moment he spoke, tears spilled down my face. “Elara? What’s wrong?” “Are you having fun over there?” Fun? I had spent the whole afternoon miserable on a freezing stone bed. He must have heard the hurt in my silence. He sighed and gave in. “I’ll stay in the Red Sand Desert for three days. Then I’ll come to the Sacred Grounds for the other four, all right?” “Don’t worry. I won’t leave you behind.” I could hear howls and laughter in the background. Then Seraphina’s voice drifted over the line: “Which compartment did you put my silver-thread armor in?” I froze. My mind went blank with a roar.

They were staying in the same tent. I suddenly remembered that I couldn’t reach Kael for three hours before we left. Was that because he was helping Seraphina pack for the desert? After the call ended, I replayed everything like a maniac. When did those two, who supposedly couldn’t stand each other, get this close? Back in the pack, they were almost hostile. I was always the one stuck in the middle, smoothing things over. He was the disciplined future Alpha. She was the charming social butterfly. Kael was always glaring at her, complaining that she distracted me and pulled me into pointless social drama. While he trained me in combat, Seraphina kept distracting me with one novelty after another. It was like making Kael mad was her favorite hobby. And then it hit me. I had been stupid. That whole “sworn enemies” thing? It wasn’t hate. It was attraction with claws out. That edge between them was never disgust. It was chemistry. I covered my face as tears streamed through my fingers. My communicator buzzed again and again. Some friends who knew about my first-bite plan saw Kael and Seraphina’s photo on HowlNet and immediately messaged me: “What’s going on?” “Weren’t you and Kael supposed to be at the Sacred Grounds? Didn’t Seraphina say she was coming with you? How did the two of them end up chasing the Blood Moon in the Red Sand Desert instead?” “Oh my God. How did your first-bite ceremony turn into their little hunting trip? Elara, and you’re just letting this happen?” What could I do? I forced myself to reply calmly: “What else? They’re going to become mates.” The private channel erupted. Message after message flooded in, each more incredulous than the last. After all, how could a fated bond between childhood sweethearts lose to someone who came out of nowhere? That fairy-tale perfect match burst like foam in the moonlight. I didn’t know the answer.

On the second day of the journey, I finally made myself leave the cave. I slung on my pack, took an old hide map, and set out alone across the Sacred Grounds. I climbed the snowy peaks to watch the legendary golden sunrise spill over the mountains. I still couldn’t get used to Kael not being there. Sometimes I would be walking, and tears would fall before I even realized it. At a windy mountain pass strung with prayer flags, someone rode by on a massive black wolf. He noticed my swollen eyes and stopped in front of me. When I looked up, a white khata was already hanging before my face. I knew what it meant. I had read enough before coming here. It was one of the purest blessings in this land. In broken Common, he said, “Why sad? You are beautiful when crying. Beautiful when smiling too.” “Beautiful lady, why unhappy?” Kael had always known how to comfort me. This stranger clearly didn’t. His bluntness only made me more irritated. So I turned away and kept walking. Behind me, the giant wolf’s paws pressed steadily through the snow. Not too close. Not too far. The words I’d posted in our private channel kept spreading. Eventually, they reached Kael and Seraphina in the Red Sand Desert. That night, they both posted a response. “Not mates. Just friends with the same taste in hunting.” The moment I saw it, my heart steadied. Kael never lied. If he had truly chosen a mate, he would have told the whole pack. I sent the update to my friends at once, almost giddy with relief. Then came the blow. Both posts were visible only to me. It wasn’t a public clarification. It wasn’t an announcement to the pack. It was only meant for me— a quiet message telling me to stop.

Three days later, Kael finally came to the Sacred Grounds. Seraphina came with him. Whenever she saw me, she looked like she wanted to speak. In the end, she stayed silent. The trip grew stifling after that. Only Finn, the Northern wolf, ever broke the silence. Every day, he brought me a white khata. Kael caught him a few times. Every time, he looked annoyed and told him to get lost. He thought Finn was after something. He told me to stay away from him. But Seraphina reacted strongly to the Sacred Grounds’ pure energy, and Kael no longer had time for me. He stayed by her bed, carefully using his own power to steady hers. Watching him, I felt a sharp ache. I had been miserable when I first arrived too. No one had looked after me like that. Finn saw my tears and tried to comfort me in his clumsy way. “Want to ride Blackwind? He is very gentle. When you are done, he will take you back.” This time, I didn’t refuse. I didn’t even complain about how bad he was at comforting people. I rode the giant wolf to Moonlight Lake below the Sacred Mountain. They said the lake was like a mirror, able to reflect a werewolf’s past and present life. Kael and I had been called fated since childhood. All the grown-ups said our bond came from a past life. That was why I had chosen this place: to offer Kael my first bite. Finn didn’t understand the sorrow in my eyes. He only knelt by the lake and scooped water up for Blackwind. Still, he had listened to plenty of my complaints these past few days. He thought for a moment and ran a hand through his windblown black hair. His gaze sharpened. “Call him over and tell him how you feel.” “Wolves have to speak to understand each other. If you keep everything inside, it will make you sick.” I laughed despite myself. Then I lowered my eyes and sent Kael a message.

He took forever to pick up. When he finally did, his voice was a little rough. “Where did you go?” “Can you come to Moonlight Lake? I need to tell you something. Right now.” “Don’t go!” Seraphina’s voice cut through the communicator clearly. Then she took it from him. After all these days, this was the first time we’d spoken again. “Elara, please don’t do this. I really don’t want to hurt you.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, so now you’re doing this for my own good?” “You already told him, didn’t you?” Seraphina went quiet for a beat. Then she changed her wording. “We made this decision for your own good.” The second I heard we, my tears broke loose. I shouted so sharply it hurt. “What do you mean, ‘we’?!” “Put Kael on. Now!” The second he took it back, we both started talking. “I’m asking you one last—” “Elara, please stop pushing me—” I stopped cold. Then I hung up. I sat by the lake for a long time. Just letting the wind hit me. When I went back to pack my things, I saw Kael’s lips. They were swollen and red. There was a faint bite mark near his neck too. And then I got it. That was why he wouldn’t come. Kael grabbed my bag. His voice went tight with panic. “Where are you going?”

I told him I was going back to the pack. The portal was opening that night. He froze for a second. Then he let go. He didn’t stop me. But I never went back. I just switched to a different cave and stayed at the Sacred Grounds. I kept exploring. Later, they left the Sacred Grounds. I stayed. Every day, I rode around on Finn’s giant wolf. Seraphina was still posting on HowlNet. Her newest photo was taken under the Blood Moon in the Red Sand Desert. Two people. Same tent. Just their backs. Her caption said: “Stop asking. This is seriously the last one in my camera roll.” And under the photo, in tiny text, was one more line: “You came with me to the Red Sand Desert. The Blood Moon was beautiful. The scars, the sandstorm, the howls… and you. All of it will become part of my awakening.” I swiped past it like I saw nothing. After they got back, Kael put his big-brother act back on. Every day, he pushed me to come home. He asked if I was still upset. He told me to send him my location and kept sending soft messages. “Why don’t you want to come home? Do you hate me now?” “Elara, can you stop being mad? I’m not going to choose Seraphina as my mate.” “I swear. Without your yes, I won’t accept anyone’s first bite.” “Can you at least text me back? I’m worried about you.” I ignored every single one. I stayed quiet until all the newly adult werewolves had to choose which territory they’d serve. That was when I finally showed up in the pack chat. Kael had people asking around about where I was going. I casually said the Northern Territories. Seraphina also asked about my ceremony rating and where I wanted to continue training. I casually said the Southern Desert. One far north. One far south. She came at me angrily. “Are you seriously going to joke with your own future? Just to get back at Kael?” “So he stays guilty forever, throws away his own future, and follows you?” I almost laughed. And just to piss her off, I didn’t deny it. “Wouldn’t that be his own fault?” “He’s the one who swore he’d protect me forever.” Around three in the morning, she sent me another message. “I’m begging you. Don’t ruin Kael.” “His rating is top-tier. He should go to the Royal Capital and become the brightest Alpha there is.” “What happened before was my fault. If you’re angry, take it out on me.” I looked at it once. Then deleted it.

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My sister Serafina secretly met Aidan, the Future Alpha. She always took me with her to cover for them. Then word leaked. Queen Luna’s guards raided the glade and caught only me. The Queen ordered a forced mating. “Your bond already runs deep. Why hide?” I was forced to become Aidan’s Mate. Aidan blamed me for losing Serafina. He turned cruelly cold. Even during the mating ceremony, he pinned my wrists and forced me to admit I was my sister’s replacement. I opened my eyes. It was the day Serafina invited me to the Moonlight Glade. I buried my face in the furs and muttered, “I’m not going.” … Serafina froze. “Why not?” “I…” She bit her lip. “I already promised him we would come.” “Him” meant Aidan. In public, the Future Alpha was cold and distant. Nobody suspected a thing. He had been secretly meeting a Beta female for months. I was the Omega serving as their shield. Aidan talked to my sister. I counted leaves. He shifted to show off his wolf. I stood watch at the edge of the glade. Mother always asked about our absences. Serafina squeezed my palm. She lied with a straight face. “Ayla gets restless inside the territory. I took her out for fresh air.” She knew her place, and valued her reputation as the Future Alpha’s mate candidate above all. That was why, during that secret meeting on the Sacred Mountain— A sudden rainstorm hit. Queen Luna’s guards came looking for Aidan. She ran off into the rain without looking back. Left me all alone. I scrambled after her. My heart hammered. The mossy stone steps were slick with rain. My foot slipped. Aidan snatched my arm. “Careful.” A huge leaf umbrella appeared above us. Queen Luna’s most trusted elder stood underneath it. He glared down at us. “Found him.” “The Future Alpha’s secret lover is the second daughter of House Mooncrest.” Aidan’s face hardened. He dropped my hand. What a cruel mistake. One mistake turned the man who should have been my brother-in-law into my Alpha. In the long years that followed. Losing the mate he wanted made Aidan cruel and paranoid. Every forced mating was torture. Tears streamed down my face. He forced me to cry out Serafina’s name. Only then would he stroke my wet hair and bury his face in my neck, his voice hoarse with cruel possessiveness. “Good.” “My Mate’s sister.” The entire Pack thought the Future Alpha had fallen for his Omega at first sight. They thought he was fiercely possessive of her. Nobody knew the pure hell I endured behind closed doors. The memories made me shudder. The shame of living as her shadow nearly consumed me. I pulled the furs over my face. “I’m sick.” “I can’t go.”

Serafina reached out. She pressed her palm to my forehead. My skin burned. It wasn’t a fake fever. “Alright.” “I’ll stay here. Let me fetch the Pack healer.” My chest tightened. “Are you… skipping your meeting with him?” She let out a soft sigh. “I can’t go alone. Not without you.” Exactly. Serafina guarded her reputation above all else. She would never risk meeting the Future Alpha alone. I rolled over and closed my eyes. From this day on, whatever was between her and Aidan had nothing to do with me. My sickness dragged on for days. Spring rain fell relentlessly outside. Serafina lost her excuse to leave the estate. She sat on the porch, polishing her hunting bow and plucking the string in irritation. Mother guessed as much. She assumed Serafina caught a different sickness. Mating fever. “Do you know who your sister fancies?” Mother trimmed moonflowers by the hearth with a silver dagger. She watched me through the rising smoke. Nothing slipped past her. But I lied anyway. “I have no idea.” Mother smiled faintly. “I heard the Future Alpha chose his Mate. He meets her in secret. He covers his tracks well. Queen Luna sent trackers, but they found nothing.” “Why hide?” She sighed. “Her rank matches his. If she holds his favor, a Mating Ceremony is certain. I’m getting old. I’ll never understand young females.” I bit my lip. I didn’t know either. Serafina was always proud and reserved. What she had with Aidan felt more like politics than romance. They discussed the Pack’s future. They drew territorial borders. Aidan occasionally mentioned me and joked that I was a restless wildcat. Serafina never mentioned a Mating Ceremony. But the day I was forced to mate with Aidan changed everything. She wept openly. She glared at him with pure hatred. “You actually chose her.” “Ayla is my precious sister. You better treat her right.” Aidan couldn’t look at her. He stared at me through the ceremonial veil. He muttered a low, “I will.” She really was heartbroken that day. Mother kept talking. “The Future Alpha needs an official Mate. Queen Luna decided to grant his wish. She will expose his lover at the Full Moon Assembly. She will announce their mating.” In my past life, the Queen caught me before this assembly ever happened. But she never knew she caught the wrong girl. That single mistake ruined everything. Serafina died mateless. Aidan broke my spirit for good. Mother studied my face. “I thought it would do you good to socialize. But since your sister’s heart is taken, I will decline the invitation for her.” She turned to leave. I chased after her. I spoke fast. “Don’t decline it for her.” She looked back, and understanding flashed across her face. I took a deep breath. “Decline it for me.” She froze. “You?” She probably didn’t understand. They were in love. Their story had already started. Why hide? I didn’t care anymore. In this life, I would never cross paths with Aidan again.

The truth hit me when the assembly invitation arrived. Mother’s words were just a trap to test my sister’s heart. Queen Luna wanted to hunt down the secret lover. She gave no one the chance to decline. Moonlight washed over the sacred lake. Sky and water blurred into one. This was my first time seeing Aidan in this life. He wore silver-white Pack robes, his dark hair tied back with a leather cord. His eyes were cold and distant. Nobody could have guessed. Losing the woman he loved had turned him cruel and paranoid. Serafina crushed my hand. Sweat slicked her palm. “They say the Queen already knows about Aidan.” “Will she think I’m… shameless?” I shook my head. “No. Queen Luna is generous. She won’t look down on you for this.” She let out a long breath, but her face stayed tense. Aidan brought someone with him. A man in a dark green warrior tunic leaned against an ancient tree. He was striking, but lazily indifferent to the bustling assembly. He straightened when he caught my eye and adjusted his perfectly neat collar. Serafina didn’t recognize him. “Who is he?” Aidan kept his voice flat. “My cousin, Sentinel Captain Kael.” “You guard your reputation. We need a witness when we meet.” “In case anything happens…” Serafina managed a tight smile. “You are so careful.” “Ayla covered for us all this time. We never made a single mistake.” An ice-cold gaze fell on me. “No mistakes?” Aidan let out a soft laugh, with rare mockery. “You have a pure heart. You have no idea how deep a wolf’s ambition runs.” The blood drained from my face. He was reborn too. In our past life, Aidan humiliated me countless times. He never believed my fall on the stairs was an accident. “Isn’t that exactly what you are?” His fingertips brushed my ear and cheek before stopping at the corner of my eye. “You used to stare at me with those wet eyes right in front of your sister. A calculated seduction…” “And now you can’t even stand admitting you’re her replacement. Ha.” No matter how hard I sobbed, he just covered my eyes. His voice dropped to a rough growl. “Too late.” Those vile memories rippled through my mind. My head spun. I could barely breathe. Serafina missed the hidden meaning. “Aidan, what are you talking about?” I pulled my hand free, lowered my eyes and rushed out. “The Queen is about to announce it. Don’t worry anymore. I’m going for a walk.” She frowned. “Hey—” I bolted. She never got the chance to grab my sleeve.

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