Author: Momo Chan

Joshua and I had been childhood sweethearts for twenty years. At the height of our love, he got into a car accident trying to save me and lost his memory. I bent over backward, doing everything I could to help him remember our past. But to my horror, during this time, he fell in love with the woman who had once bullied me. Private photos of me, taken during the days I was bullied, spread like wildfire online. And he? He wrapped his arm around the woman who tormented me and laughed along with the crowd: “Her? Covered in scars. Just looking at her makes me sick.” When I saw Joshua speaking softly to Ivy, my blood ran cold. I never thought I’d see her again. Back then, after she failed her college entrance exams, Joshua’s family used their influence to make her disappear from Bayhurst for good. I had believed I’d never have to face her again in this lifetime. But here she was. The moment I saw her, I couldn’t stop myself from trembling. The cigarette burns on my arms and thighs—scars that had never fully faded—seemed to come alive again, throbbing with phantom pain. I gripped the doorframe to steady myself, my legs weak. Yet, when I saw her leaning against Joshua’s shoulder with tearful eyes, trembling like some helpless victim, anger surged through me, overpowering my fear. I stormed forward and shoved her away with all my strength. “Get away from him!” Ivy fell heavily onto the couch, looking up at me with wide, frightened eyes before glancing at Joshua, pleading silently for help. Joshua immediately pulled her to her feet, his face full of concern, before turning to me, his expression dark with anger. “Harper, what the hell is wrong with you?!” I panicked, trying to explain. “Joshua, don’t let her fool you! She’s not who you think she is—she’s a terrible person!” He took a deep breath, clearly trying to contain his frustration. “Whether she’s a good person or not isn’t for you to decide!” “And you,” he added, his voice cold, “how long are you going to keep clinging to me just because of some old connection between our families?” I froze, my voice trembling as I tried to reason with him. “I’m not… Joshua, we’re together—we’re a couple!” He rubbed his temples as if my words physically pained him. “Three years. For three years, you’ve been telling me I’m your boyfriend. But I don’t remember anything you’ve been trying so hard to make me believe. You’re the one who’s delusional—don’t drag me into it.” “I tolerated you out of respect for our parents, but this ends here, Harper. You’ve gone too far.” With that, he scooped Ivy into his arms and carried her out of the room, brushing past me without a second glance. As they left, Ivy shot me a triumphant look over his shoulder. The same look she used to give me back then—the look of someone who wouldn’t stop until she’d completely broken me. My legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the floor, gripping the edge of the table for support. My entire body was cold, trembling with fear and anger.

For days, I couldn’t bring myself to go find Joshua. Maybe I was too scared to face the truth—that he might actually be falling for Ivy. But deep down, I kept telling myself that couldn’t be true. He lost his memory because of me. This wasn’t his fault. He just forgot… that’s all… I kept repeating these thoughts to myself like a mantra, trying to convince myself I still had hope. Eventually, I decided to bring him lunch. I spent hours preparing a homemade meal and delivered it to his office. Most of his coworkers knew me, so they let me into his office without any trouble. But I waited for over an hour, and he never showed up. Finally, his secretary came in with an apologetic expression. “Ms. Harper, I’m so sorry, but it seems Mr. Carter stepped out for a meeting.” I nodded, forcing a smile. “That’s okay. I’ll just leave this here for him.” I placed the lunchbox on his desk and instructed the secretary, “He’s probably too busy to remember to eat, so make sure he does, okay? Otherwise, his stomach will act up again.” The secretary couldn’t help but sigh. “You’re so thoughtful, Ms. Harper. Mr. Carter is lucky to have someone like you.” I smiled faintly. “Well, I’ll get going now.” As I left his office building, I hailed a cab to head home. But just as I reached my front door, I realized I’d left my bag behind. I had no choice but to turn back. When I walked through the glass doors of his office again, I froze. There was Ivy, sitting in Joshua’s office, eating the lunch I had made. Joshua was at his desk, glancing at her every so often with a soft, indulgent smile. It was the same look he used to give me before he lost his memory. A sharp pain shot through my chest, a mix of heartbreak and nausea. Without thinking, I stormed into the room, grabbed the lunchbox from Ivy’s hands, and threw it to the ground. Ivy’s head snapped up, her glare piercing. That look—it was too familiar. So familiar that my body went weak, and I instinctively took a step back. Joshua was on his feet in an instant, grabbing my wrist. His voice was filled with rage. “Harper, have you lost your mind again?! Haven’t you caused enough trouble? What did Ivy ever do to you?” I could barely keep my voice steady as I looked him in the eye, tears streaming down my face. “You knew I made that for you. If you didn’t want it, you could’ve thrown it away—but why did you give it to her?” For a moment, Joshua hesitated, my words seeming to strike a nerve. But before he could respond, Ivy chimed in with a soft voice. “Mr. Carter… Harper didn’t mean it. She just likes you so much that she doesn’t want someone like me eating something she made for you.” Whatever flicker of doubt Joshua might have felt disappeared instantly. He turned to her, his voice gentle. “Don’t say that. You’re not ‘someone like that.’” Then, he let go of my wrist, shoving me backward. I stumbled and fell to the floor. Looking down at me, his voice was cold and cutting. “If it’s something you made for me, then it’s mine to decide who gets to eat it. If you don’t want me giving it to someone else, then stop being pathetic and stop bringing me food!” His words shattered me. I don’t even remember how I managed to stand up, or how I forced myself to pick up the broken pieces of the lunchbox and leave his office. I straightened my back, determined not to look as defeated as I felt. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

I was about to throw the lunchbox away. But then I remembered it was a gift from Joshua back when I was battling depression and barely had an appetite. He had taught himself how to cook during that time, trying out new recipes every day just to get me to eat a little more. This lunchbox was one of the first things he gave me. I’d kept it all these years, unable to bring myself to let it go. Thinking of the Joshua who used to care for me so deeply, the Joshua who was so kind and loving, I just couldn’t do it. Instead, I grabbed some disinfectant and scrubbed it over and over again. But no matter how clean I tried to make it, the thought of Ivy touching it made me feel sick. No amount of scrubbing could erase the disgust. Just then, my phone rang. On the other end, Joshua’s voice sounded weak. “…Harper, where’s my stomach medicine?” I instinctively answered, “Middle drawer of your nightstand, on the right.” There was a moment of silence. “It’s not there…” I paused, realizing he must’ve run out. Even though I was still angry, I couldn’t help but feel worried. “Is the pain bad? Can you handle it?” Another long silence followed. “…I want some of your shrimp porridge,” he finally said. His tone—it sounded so much like the Joshua I used to know. I couldn’t resist. Before my brain could catch up, the words were already out of my mouth. “Wait for me.” I picked up his prescription from the pharmacy, bought some fresh shrimp and vegetables, and headed to his place. When he opened the door, he looked terrible—his face pale, his lips colorless, his steps unsteady. I immediately handed him a glass of water and the capsules. He took them from me without hesitation, as naturally as if we were back in the old days. Three years of him claiming to hate me, yet he’d grown so used to my care. I got to work on the porridge. Once it was ready, he slowly ate a bowl, and the color started returning to his face. I watched him, lost in thought, and finally asked, “Does it taste good?” He froze, then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. The truth was, I was the one who loved shrimp porridge—not him. He was the one who used to make it perfectly—not me. Three years had passed, and he still didn’t remember. I forced a small, bitter smile and turned to clean up the dishes. But before I could finish, his phone rang. He answered it, and his expression instantly grew tense. “Are you okay?” “Just stay where you are—I’ll be there right away.” A chill ran down my spine. I didn’t need to guess who was on the other end. My gut told me it was Ivy. I grabbed his wrist before he could leave. “What happened?” His voice was rushed, impatient. “Ivy’s place caught on fire. I need to go check on her.” The moment he said her name, my grip tightened instinctively. “If she had the time to call you, she’s obviously fine. You’re sick—you can’t go out like this…” I was practically begging him at this point. “Please, just don’t go.” But Joshua only frowned, looking at me as if I’d said something unforgivable. “I know you hate Ivy, but how can you say something like that? She’s alone—don’t you think she might be scared?” He pulled his wrist free and stormed out without another word. “She’s alone—don’t you think she might be scared?” Of course, she’d be scared. Just like I was, back when she cornered me in the bathroom stall, holding a lit cigarette that flickered in and out. I had been terrified. Terrified to the point of breaking.

After that incident, Ivy managed to move into Joshua’s house without much resistance. I’d anticipated her next move—I knew her too well. But what I hadn’t expected was for Joshua to actually agree to it. I thought my heart had already gone numb, but the pain of it hit me harder than I imagined. What surprised me even more was the night of Mr. Carter’s birthday celebration. Joshua brought Ivy to the party. I was sitting in the living room chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Carter when the room suddenly fell silent. Following everyone’s gaze, I turned and saw Joshua walking in, arm in arm with Ivy. It wasn’t just me. Mr. and Mrs. Carter’s faces also darkened in shock. Especially Mrs. Carter—she shot up from her seat, her eyes blazing with fury as she glared at Ivy. “What are you doing here?! Get out!” Ivy immediately hid behind Joshua, feigning fear. Joshua frowned. “Mom, I brought Ivy here. How can you treat her like that?” Mr. Carter, unable to stay seated any longer, stood and pointed an accusing finger at Joshua. “You ungrateful brat! Have you even thought about how Harper feels?!” Out of respect for my feelings, my parents and the Carters had never mentioned Ivy in front of me, nor had they spoken to Joshua about her. They had watched as Joshua, after losing his memory, became less and less like the person he once was. But none of them could have imagined he’d go so far as to bring Ivy into his life—and now into their home. Joshua, seemingly dismissive of the gravity of Ivy’s past, furrowed his brow and said, “Ivy’s already explained everything to me. She was just young and reckless back then. Why does everyone have to be so aggressive?” “Aggressive?!” Mr. Carter’s voice was shaking with anger. “If she has so much to explain, it’s Harper she should be apologizing to—not you!” Furious, he shouted for security. “Get this woman out of my house!” Joshua immediately stepped forward to block them. “All this over some petty incident? Do you really have to treat Ivy this way?” A sharp pang shot through my chest. So to Joshua now, everything Ivy had done to me was just some petty incident. Suddenly, Joshua whipped his head around and glared at me, his eyes filled with hostility. “It was you, wasn’t it?” “You’re disgusting. Spreading lies about Ivy to my parents? How pathetic can you get?” Mrs. Carter, trembling with rage, slapped him hard across the face. “You—!” she shouted, unable to finish her sentence as her voice broke with fury. Ivy gasped, her face full of tears, looking like a helpless victim. “Joshua, don’t fight with your family because of me. It’s all my fault—I’ll leave, okay?” She turned and ran toward the door, sobbing. Joshua immediately chased after her. I grabbed his wrist before he could leave, my voice shaking as I asked, “Do you love her?” He looked at me with nothing but contempt, his voice dripping with venom. “Yes. I love her.” With that, he wrenched his wrist free and ran after Ivy without looking back.

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On our wedding anniversary, my wife slit her wrists in the bathtub, taking her own life to follow her so-called “first love” to the grave. When I opened her old diary, I was transported back to her 16-year-old self. And there he was—this so-called “first love”—trying to convince her to tattoo his name on her arm. I couldn’t hold back my anger. Pulling her behind me, I glared at him. “You Punk, get lost!” My wife, Mia, had been battling severe depression for years. Nothing seemed to bring her joy anymore. But today, on our wedding anniversary, she did something unusual—she said she wanted to have a cake to celebrate. I was overjoyed, practically rubbing my hands together with excitement as I agreed and rushed out to buy one. When I came home with a bouquet of roses in one hand and a beautifully decorated cake in the other, I found her lying motionless in the bathtub. Her body was submerged in a pool of crimson water. The cake slipped from my hands, smashing onto the floor, just as shattered as the day that was supposed to celebrate our marriage. I had always known about Mia’s so-called “first love,” Ryan. His death had left her devastated, and she fell into a deep depression because of it. One night, I came home from work to find her numbly pressing a fruit knife against her wrist. For the first time ever, I lost my temper with her. “Mia, what are you doing?! Ryan’s gone. Are you seriously going to hurt yourself over someone who’s been dead for years?” Her hand trembled as she dropped the knife, tears streaming down her face. “I’m sorry, Brian,” she whispered. “I don’t know… I can’t control myself.” I sighed and pulled her into my arms, gently wiping her cold tears away. “Don’t be scared,” I said softly. “You’re sick, but I’ll get you the help you need. We’ll get through this together.” She nodded. She said she’d try. But in the end, she broke that promise. While sorting through her things, I found an old pink diary with a small brass lock. Mia’s parents had spoiled her when she was younger, back when the family was still doing well. They had bought her one of those trendy diaries with a lock to keep her secrets safe. But as I held it in my hands, the lock fell off on its own, and the pages began flipping wildly, as though carried by an invisible wind. Finally, they stopped on a page. April 16th, 2013 “My sixteenth year feels like a never-ending storm, cold and damp, year-round.” Before I could read any further, a blinding white light engulfed me, and I felt myself being sucked into the diary. A distant, ethereal voice echoed in my ears. “Save her. Please, save Mia…” When I opened my eyes, I was sitting in a noisy high school cafeteria. I was wearing the uniform of Linrose High—Mia’s high school. Finding a reflective tray, I caught my own reflection. I was 16 again—back in my own teenage body! Across the cafeteria, I heard a group of students taunting someone. “Mia, your dad fell off a construction site and died, huh? And now your trashy mom’s working the streets? Heard you’re the one bringing her the bathwater to clean up after her ‘clients,’ huh?” “Makes sense—a trashy mom and her trashy daughter. You keep hanging around Ryan, helping him with homework. What is it? Trying to advertise yourself?” The cafeteria went silent as everyone stopped eating to watch the drama unfold. Mia’s face turned bright red. Her hands shook slightly, but she forced herself to stay calm, chewing her food slowly, pretending not to hear a thing. The girl who had been mocking her grew angrier at being ignored. “You little slut!” she snapped, slamming her tray toward Mia. Mia couldn’t dodge in time, and greasy food splattered all over her school jacket. Before I could react, a boy with bleached, messy hair stepped forward. Without a word, he grabbed his own tray and dumped its contents over the girl’s head. Soup and gravy dripped down her face as she shrieked in outrage. “Ryan, are you seriously beating someone up over a girl?” A chubby kid pointed an accusing finger at him.Ryan ran a hand through his messy hair, grabbed a Coke bottle, and smashed it against the table. Shards of glass scattered everywhere as the chubby kid touched his forehead, horrified to find blood dripping down.“I’ll beat the crap out of anyone who talks trash about Mia!” Ryan yelled. “If I hear one more word about her, I’ll go after every single one of you, one by one!” So… Mia’s so-called “first love” was this punk? And she took her own life over him? Sure, he protected her. But this kind of extreme behavior? It was bound to lead to trouble. Ryan handed Mia an empty Coke bottle and raised his eyebrows, thinking he looked cool. “Mia, nice people get walked all over. You’ve gotta hit them where it hurts so they’ll never mess with you again. Here, take this bottle and teach that liar a lesson.” What? Was this guy seriously encouraging Mia to assault someone? My future wife—kind, gentle, and soft-hearted—absolutely could not be corrupted by this idiot! Mia hesitated, staring at the bottle in her hand. Her eyes flickered with a dangerous, almost manic light. As she raised the bottle high over her head, I darted forward and shielded the girl she was about to hit. The Coke bottle came down hard—right on my back. Damn, my future wife was way stronger than I thought. That hurt. The wild look melted from Mia’s eyes, replaced by panic. She dropped the bottle and rushed to me. “I’m so sorry, are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Before I could respond, the cafeteria supervisor’s voice boomed across the room. “Who’s causing trouble in here? Don’t let me catch you!” Ryan didn’t even wait. He bolted without a word, slipping out the back like the coward he was. I pointed at Ryan’s retreating figure and said to Mia, “Don’t listen to him. Fighting never solves anything. He hit someone and ran away—do you really want to associate with someone who doesn’t take responsibility for his actions?” The supervisor stormed over, spitting mad. “Mia, were you the one fighting in here?” Mia, already burdened by everything happening in her life, lowered her head, ready to take the blame. But I stepped in front of her before she could say a word. “Sir, look at her. She’s tiny and well-behaved. Do you really think she could’ve been the one fighting?” I kept my tone calm but firm. “The one causing trouble was some punk named Ryan. He hit someone hard enough to draw blood and ran off in that direction. You should catch him and teach him a lesson.” The supervisor gave Mia one last sharp look before turning to deal with the injured student. Then, spotting Ryan’s bright blond hair in the distance, he took off at a sprint. “Nothing to see here. Everyone, get back to your meals,” I said. The crowd slowly dispersed, leaving Mia standing there, looking at me with wide, uncertain eyes. “Who… who are you?” she asked softly. I’m your future husband—the one you left behind, the one you broke. When I saw your lifeless body, I hated you for it. Hated that you never left a place for me in your heart, that you ended your life over a man who’d been gone for years. But now, seeing you here, alive and vulnerable, all those feelings melted away. I just wanted to save you, to change your future. Even if there’s no place for me in it, I want you to be happy. I smiled and answered sincerely, “Hi, Mia. I’m Brian. It’s nice to meet you again.” “Brian, thank you for helping me earlier,” she said hesitantly. “But… why did you betray Ryan?” “He hurt someone. He needs to face the consequences. But what about you? Why are you defending him so much?” She paused, thinking. Then she said quietly, “Because… he’s the only one in this whole school who doesn’t treat me like I’m dirty.” I studied her for a moment, then gently reminded her, “Mia, your jacket got stained earlier. You should take it off.” She hesitated but eventually slid the dirty jacket off her shoulders. Without missing a beat, I draped my own clean school jacket over her. “Well, now he’s not the only one. You’re not dirty, Mia. You’re the cleanest, kindest person I’ve ever met.”

In my original life, I attended a prestigious high school in the city. But in this alternate timeline within the diary, I was now living with my grandfather in the small rural town of Linwood, where I had somehow become Mia’s classmate. Mia was one of the top students in our grade, but she sat alone in the far corner of the classroom, her desk isolated from everyone else’s. Nobody wanted to sit next to her. Dragging my desk over, I placed it beside hers and smiled. “Our new seating arrangement. Let’s make it work, seatmate.” Mia nodded shyly. Sixteen-year-old Mia was soft, timid, and completely adorable. If I wanted to change the future and prevent Mia from taking her own life ten years later, I’d have to start by dealing with Ryan. Mia had once told me that Ryan died in June 2013, crashing his motorcycle on a stormy night. To save Mia, I needed to achieve two things: 1. Prevent Ryan’s death in two months. 2. Minimize Ryan’s influence over Mia. Mia and I were in the top-tier Class One, while Ryan was in the bottom-ranked Class Nine. During evening study hall, Ryan would often come to our classroom, knocking on the window by Mia’s desk. With two fingers, he’d make a beckoning motion, signaling for her to sneak out with him. He was trying to lure her away from study hall to hang out with him. Mia hesitated, her indecision written all over her face. When she didn’t move, Ryan started mouthing words dramatically, waving his arms and jumping around outside the window like a lunatic. Just as Mia began to rise from her seat, I grabbed her wrist. “Mia, you hit me in the back earlier, so now you owe me. Sit down and explain these questions to me as compensation.” Mia looked guilty and reluctantly nodded. “Okay.” I tore a page from my notebook, wrote a bold note on it, and stuck it to the window: SHE’S NOT GOING. Then I mouthed a simple, clear message to Ryan: Get lost. I’d graduated from one of the best universities in the country. I thought I’d breeze through some tutoring to make Mia feel accomplished. Turns out, I’d forgotten most of the material over the years. Mia giggled at my confusion, grabbed a scrap of paper, and began patiently explaining the problems to me. Each time she finished a question, I showered her with praise. “You’re amazing, Mia. A total genius.” She tried to keep a straight face, but every now and then, I’d catch her sneaking a little smile. Girls like her deserved compliments—lots of them. Over time, Mia seemed to rediscover a sense of pride in her studies. Whenever Ryan came knocking, asking her to ditch class and ride around with him, she’d brush him off by saying she had to help me with homework. At least for now, my future wife’s attention was shifting ever so slightly toward me. Ryan wasn’t the type to give up easily. Knowing Mia didn’t have much pocket money, he’d often sneak into Class One and leave cheap snacks in her desk drawer. Every time Mia found one of his snacks, her face would light up with joy. I’ll admit—I was jealous. Before and after we were married, I’d spent so much effort picking out gifts for her: jewelry, designer bags, luxury makeup, even handmade items I spent hours on. She’d always react with a polite, distant smile. But now here she was, grinning ear to ear over a packet of junk food. How could someone so hard to please be this happy over Ryan’s cheap snacks? One day, I pulled out a peach-flavored jelly cup from her desk, turned, and casually tossed it into the trash. “You’re allergic to peaches,” I said, rolling my eyes. “He can’t even get that right. Some ‘thoughtful’ gift.” Mia’s expression darkened. “Ryan said that while everyone else in the world throws mud at me, he’s the only one who brings me flowers. How could you ruin something so precious?” I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose. From then on, I started bringing Mia breakfast: milk and eggs to start her day, fresh seasonal fruit after meals, and occasionally some high-end snacks. “This is what it looks like when someone really cares about you,” I said, smirking as I handed her a small box of chocolates. “Compared to this, that cheap stuff shouldn’t even catch your eye. Got it, Mia?” She looked down at the treats, then up at me, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Got it,” she mumbled. “Good,” I said, leaning back with a grin. “Smart girl.” On the weekend break, Ryan pulled up on his motorcycle, helmet still on, and called out to Mia. “Mia, don’t go home. Wouldn’t want to interrupt your mom and her ‘clients.’ Look, I’m being generous here—why don’t you crash at my place instead?”

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My so-called best friend tricked me into coming to her house and pushed me onto her husband’s bed. She cried and said, “I’m pregnant and can’t satisfy him. You’re the only one who can help me!” The next day, she waved explicit photos of me in front of my face, threatening to send them to everyone I knew unless I came running every time her husband wanted me. I snapped. Grabbing a kitchen knife, I slashed at them—again and again. The last slash was for myself. When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment I knocked on her front door. A second chance. “Jenna, what took you so long? I’ve been waiting here for half an hour!” Cassie was standing in the doorway in a pastel pink maternity dress with little bunny patterns, looking as sweet and innocent as ever. She’d pointed it out on one of our shopping trips, saying how much she loved it, so I spent half my paycheck to buy it for her. Her smile back then had made it seem worth it. That’s what best friends are for, right? At least, that’s what I told myself. All the clothes, makeup, and bags she flaunted—most of them were gifts from me. And what did she give me in return? A spot in her husband’s bed. Oh, and let’s not forget the photos. A whole night’s worth of explicit, high-definition evidence of me and her husband. She waved them in my face, threatening to send them to my friends if I didn’t crawl back every time he wanted me. Best friend? Sure. Some best friend. If I’d been given just one minute’s warning before that day, I never would have knocked on her door. But now that I’ve been given a second chance, they can both prepare for hell. I smiled faintly and held up a bag. “You said you were craving hot wings, right? I stood in line to get some for you.” Cassie’s face brightened a little at that, and she pulled me inside, pointing to the groceries piled on the counter. “Jenna, didn’t you say you had a craving for braised pork and lamb stew? I bought all the ingredients, so you can cook it up for us. That way, when my husband gets home, we’ll all have something nice to eat.” I glanced at the sink, still piled high with dirty dishes, and a flicker of mockery passed through my eyes. This was her usual trick. She’d pretend I wanted something, then guilt-trip me into coming over to wash dishes and cook meals for her and her husband. That’s exactly how it had gone the first time around. I’d been so naive back then, thinking it was just another one of her schemes to get me to play housemaid. I never saw it coming when she fed me aphrodisiac-laced food and sent me straight to her husband’s bed. Not this time. This time, I smiled and nodded, playing along. “Cassie, what would you do without me?” I said, my voice dripping with affection. Cassie giggled, her tone sugary sweet. “Even if I didn’t have my husband, I could never live without you!” I smirked slightly. Oh, don’t worry—I’ll make sure you get exactly what you deserve. While Cassie was distracted in the living room, munching on her hot wings, I picked up the stack of dirty dishes from the sink and smashed them—one by one—onto the floor. The sound of shattering porcelain echoed through the house. Cassie craned her neck, staring at the mess in shock. “Jenna, what the hell?! Why did you break all the dishes?” Putting on my best innocent expression, I pouted. “What’s wrong with you guys? These dishes are so greasy I couldn’t even hold onto them. They just slipped right out of my hands!” Her face turned red with rage. “Those dishes were imported! Do you know how expensive they were?!” She ran into the kitchen, crouching down to pick through the shards in search of anything salvageable. She wasn’t careful, though, and her hand slipped, leaving a deep gash. As she stood up, her foot caught on another shard, slicing her skin open again. Blood quickly seeped through her pink bunny dress, staining it a deep crimson. Honestly, the red looked much better on her than the pink. Cassie shrieked, panic and anger mixing in her voice. “I’m bleeding! I’m bleeding so much—oh my God!” She reached out to grab me, her bloodied hand stretching toward me like some grotesque horror movie scene. I took a step back, wrinkling my nose in disgust. “I’m squeamish about blood,” I said, pretending to feel faint. “It’s making me nauseous. I’ll wait for you in the living room.” Without a second glance, I strolled over to the couch and plopped down, ignoring her cries for help. Watching her stumble around, helpless and furious, was an absolute delight.

Not long after, Cassie’s husband, Ethan, came home from work, carrying a few bottles of red wine. The moment he spotted me, a strange smile crept onto his face. “Jenna, I knew you’d be here for dinner, so I went out of my way to grab some wine for us.” I gave him a faint smile. “How thoughtful. Now, why don’t you head to the kitchen and help Cassie with dinner? Make sure the pork is braised until it’s nice and tender—I like it that way.” Ethan’s face darkened, his brows furrowing. “Weren’t you two already cooking? Why do I have to do it?” I almost rolled my eyes right there. Back when Cassie announced she was marrying Ethan, I was the loudest voice against it. He was the walking embodiment of everything wrong with a man: broke, unattractive, stingy, and loaded with an ego the size of Mount Everest. Now, though, I had to admit—they were a match made in heaven. Lock them together forever, please. Cassie poked her head out of the kitchen, her face a picture of wounded innocence. “Ethan, Jenna broke all the dishes while washing them, and I cut myself on the shards. My hands and feet are bleeding!” Ethan set the wine down and walked over to the kitchen. The sight of the greasy mess on the floor mixed with blood was enough to make anyone gag. His face twisted with anger. “How old are you? You can’t even handle something as simple as washing dishes? What’s the point of having you around?” “Other men’s wives have dinner ready and waiting when their husbands get home. You’re just lazy as hell. If you weren’t pregnant, I’d have taught you a lesson right now.” The veins bulging on his forehead, the fists clenched at his sides, and Cassie’s trembling body told me all I needed to know—this wasn’t the first time he’d blown up at her like this. Of course, Cassie never mentioned it to me before. Probably because she was afraid I’d tell her parents, who’d either beat Ethan to a pulp or force them to divorce. Neither outcome was something Cassie wanted. Ah, love. The logic of the hopelessly infatuated is truly beyond comprehension. Cassie tried to soothe him, her voice meek and apologetic. “I swear I’ll do better next time, Ethan. Let’s just focus on cooking for now, okay? Jenna’s probably starving.” Ethan shot me a sleazy glance, his eyes lingering on me far too long before he let out a grunt. “Fine. For Jenna’s sake, I won’t make a big deal out of it today.” Cassie exhaled in relief, but her moment of peace was short-lived. As soon as Ethan turned back around, she threw me a venomous glare, jealousy written all over her face. I caught the whole thing in vivid detail thanks to the mirror hanging on the wall. Despite all his grumbling, Ethan didn’t forget to add his own little twist to the meal. I watched as he pulled a small vial from his pocket and began slipping something into the food—carefully lacing every dish with drugs. At one point, Cassie stopped him. “Ethan, if you spike everything, what am I supposed to eat? If I don’t touch any food, Jenna’s going to get suspicious.” Ethan snorted. “Fine. I’ll leave the salad alone for you.” Cassie beamed at him, her eyes practically sparkling. “I knew you loved me the most.” Listening to this exchange, I nearly burst out laughing. Cassie had started gaslighting herself now. Incredible. Then, as if the scene couldn’t get any more absurd, Ethan pulled out a bottle of Viagra from his pocket and popped two pills into his mouth. Cassie, seeing this, pouted like a jealous teenager. Ethan smirked, reached over, and gave her a firm smack on the butt. Her mood instantly flipped, and she giggled, blushing like she’d just won the lottery. Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.

The dining table was packed with food—four dishes and a soup. Cassie eagerly placed a lamb rib on my plate, while Ethan poured me a glass of wine, both of them beaming with over-the-top hospitality that left no room for me to decline. “Jenna, I remember lamb ribs are your favorite. Don’t hold back—eat as much as you like.” “And I know how picky you are about wine. This one’s over $200 a bottle, so drink up,” Ethan added with a smirk. I responded with a soft smile but didn’t touch my plate. Instead, I grabbed a piece of pork from the platter and placed it on Cassie’s plate, my tone playful and indulgent. “Cassie, do you remember back in college when we used to grab pork knuckle rice from that food truck near campus? You’d always steal my pork knuckles. So today, it’s only fair the first bite goes to you.” Cassie’s smile faltered for a second before she forced it back into place. “I’m pregnant now, Jenna. I’m avoiding greasy food.” I pouted, feigning childish annoyance. “If you’re not eating, then neither am I!” Ethan jumped in to mediate. “Cassie, just have a bite. It won’t hurt.” Reluctantly, Cassie picked up the pork knuckle with the thickest layer of skin—the part that had been spiked with the most powder—and took a big bite. Afraid I’d notice anything suspicious, she exaggerated her reaction, chewing quickly and forcing a smile. “It’s really good, Jenna! You should have some too!” she said, piling several pieces of pork knuckle onto my plate with an almost vindictive enthusiasm. I smiled sweetly. “Cassie, you’re giving me all the tendons and leaving Ethan nothing to go with his wine. What’s he supposed to drink with?” With that, I picked up the pork from my plate and dropped it into Ethan’s bowl, giving him a playful wink. “You’re not going to tell me off for not using serving utensils, are you?” Ethan, taken aback by my sudden friendliness, stammered, “Of course not!” He immediately dug in, shoving a piece into his mouth. “This is amazing—so soft and tender!” he said, stuffing more into his mouth between compliments. Cassie, watching this little exchange, grew visibly annoyed. Her voice turned sour. “Ethan, since when do you love pork knuckle so much?” I laughed lightly and, just to provoke her, added more food to Ethan’s bowl. “What’s the matter, Cassie? Don’t tell me you’re jealous of me giving Ethan some food? In that case, I’ll just have to serve him even more!” “And not only am I going to load his plate, but I’m also going to drink with him after dinner. My alcohol tolerance is no joke—I’ll probably have Ethan passed out under the table in no time.” I turned to Ethan, flashing a challenge. “You’re not going to chicken out, are you?” Ethan, always the vain and self-centered type, couldn’t resist. He puffed out his chest and smirked. “Me? Back out? Not a chance. But don’t come crying to me when you can’t keep up!” With that, he polished off the food I’d given him and raised his glass to toast me. I was careful, though. I only drank the wine I’d opened myself. While Ethan was busy trying to outdrink me, I sipped cautiously, knowing full well what kind of people I was dealing with. As a sales professional, drinking was practically in my job description. Knocking back ten Ethans wouldn’t be a problem for me. The more we drank, the more Ethan focused on pouring glass after glass, desperate to get me drunk. He’d forgotten all about convincing me to eat. Meanwhile, Cassie sat to the side, seething with jealousy, her expression twisted and ugly. Cassie wasn’t just a hopeless romantic—she was also incredibly paranoid. Back in college, she had two other close friends from our dorm. We used to hang out and eat together all the time. But one day, during a casual dinner, one of them complimented Ethan’s looks out of politeness. Another got a compliment from Ethan on her figure. That was all it took for Cassie to cut ties with both of them, spreading rumors behind their backs that they were “homewreckers” trying to steal her man. The only reason she stayed close to me was because I’d always made it clear how little I thought of Ethan. My disdain for him was what kept her trust intact.

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In my previous life, my teacher, a grown adult, led the charge in bullying me simply because I scored higher than her favorite male student. She spread rumors about me throughout the class, accusing me of cheating and even dating. She’d say things like: “Some people’s grades suddenly improve out of nowhere. We all know how that happens.” Or: “Some girls don’t focus on studying—they’re too busy figuring out how to seduce people!” She egged the entire class on to isolate me, and in the end, she pushed me into depression, forcing me to drop out. But this time? This time, I returned to the moment she first accused me of cheating. I raised my hand and asked: “Miss Garcia, the other day I saw you sitting on Mason Taylor’s lap. Is that how grades get improved?” The results for the midterms had just come out. I’d jumped up thirty spots in the rankings, climbing from the bottom of the class to somewhere in the middle. Lila Green, my best friend, stared at my test paper in awe. “You’re amazing, Amanda! Seriously, this is incredible.” Lila had always been my closest friend, the one who encouraged me when no one else would. Even in my past life, after I spiraled into depression and dropped out, she was the one who kept visiting, begging me to hold on. When I eventually took my own life, she cried so hard she almost passed out. Now, as I stared at the test paper on my desk, I didn’t feel much joy. I knew what was coming. Just then, the sharp clack of heels echoed through the classroom as Miss Garcia strode in, her hips swaying as if she were on a catwalk. “I’ve posted the class rankings on the board,” she announced, her tone brisk. “Feel free to take a look after class.” She paused, her gaze deliberately sweeping the room before landing on me. “But I’d like to talk about two students in particular—Amandaand Mason Taylor.” She walked over to Mason’s desk, which was right by the podium, isolated from the rest of the class. She patted him on the shoulder in a mock show of sympathy. “Mason, you’ve slipped in the rankings this time. Amanda even surpassed you.” Mason nodded, but from where I was sitting, I could see him nudge Miss Garcia’s lower back with his elbow. Disgusting. Lila, sitting beside me, bristled at Miss Garcia’s words. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she muttered under her breath. Miss Garcia’s expression hardened, her voice turning sharp. “It’s natural for students to struggle sometimes. As a teacher, it’s my job to support those who are falling behind and help them catch up. But…” She paused, her eyes narrowing as they flicked to me. “What concerns me is when certain students improve their grades too quickly. It makes you wonder what methods they might be using. I won’t investigate—out of respect. But let’s just say, everyone knows the truth.” I stared at her, her words dragging me back to my past life. It had started just like this. The first time I outperformed Mason, she began making insinuations during class meetings: “Some people’s grades suddenly improve out of nowhere. We all know how that happens.” Then she saw Mason helping me pick out a book in the library and started spreading new rumors: “Some girls spend more time flirting than studying!” She led the class in ostracizing me. In lessons, she refused to call on me, ignored my assignments, or pretended not to receive them. When she did collect my work, she never graded it. It got worse. She stopped giving me study materials, excluded me from group projects, and even left me off the class roster during school-wide attendance counts. High schoolers are simple—and cruel. If the teacher hated me, the other students followed suit. Only Lila stayed by my side, until Miss Garcia transferred her to another class. With no one left to lean on, I was buried under the weight of rumors, isolation, and cruelty. It all led to my eventual withdrawal from school and, finally, my death. And all because I’d dared to score higher than Mason Taylor, her golden boy. This time, though, I wasn’t going to sit back and take it. When Miss Garcia finished her little speech, I raised my hand. “Miss Garcia,” I said innocently, “the other day when I dropped off my homework, I saw you sitting on Mason’s lap. Is that how grades get improved?” Her face drained of color. “You—what are you talking about?! That’s absurd!” She pointed a trembling finger at me, her voice rising. “First you cheat, and now you’re spreading lies?” I tilted my head, feigning confusion. “Lies? Oh, no, I just meant… didn’t you lose your balance, and Mason was helping you steady yourself? Isn’t that what happened?” Her face turned an alarming shade of red, then pale again. “Yes! I… I lost my balance. That’s all it was.” Of course, that wasn’t what had happened. But I wasn’t trying to expose her—not yet. I just wanted to give her a taste of the humiliation she’d given me. The class, however, was already buzzing with whispers. Teenagers and their imaginations—this kind of gossip was like gasoline on a fire. Miss Garcia quickly yelled, “Enough! Quiet down—class is starting!” But her composure was gone. She didn’t even spare Mason a glance after class, rushing out of the room as soon as the bell rang. As soon as she left, my classmates swarmed me. “Amanda, was that true?” “Did Miss Garcia and Mason really… you know?” “I always thought she walked like that for a reason. Guess I was right!” I calmly gathered my books, ignoring most of the questions. Lila shot me a worried look. I grabbed her arm. “Come on, let’s go to the restroom.” Before leaving, I turned to the group. “Didn’t you hear her? She said she just lost her balance. Anything else, I wouldn’t know. If you’re curious, go find out for yourselves—but don’t drag me into it. She already doesn’t like me.” I led Lila out of the classroom. When someone spreads rumors about you, the best weapon is an even bigger, juicier rumor. And this wasn’t even a rumor—it was the truth. Miss Garcia accused me of cheating, so I planted the seed of her inappropriate behavior. Teenagers thrive on gossip, especially when it involves scandal. And a teacher-student relationship? That was dynamite. Let’s see if Miss Garcia can keep her skeletons buried now. On the way to the restroom, Lila hesitated, clearly wanting to say something. Finally, as we washed our hands, she blurted, “Amanda, I’m scared she’s going to come after you for this.” I smiled. “She won’t—unless she really has something to hide.” “But… did she really sit on Mason’s lap?” I held a finger to my lips. “Shh. Walls have ears.” Lila nodded nervously, grabbing my wrist as we hurried back to class. High school is supposed to be the most beautiful, unforgettable time of our lives. As Lila tugged me along, glancing back to urge me to keep up, I felt a pang of guilt. I was using her. It wasn’t just a warning about walls having ears—I knew someone was listening in the restroom. I wanted Miss Garcia to feel what I’d felt. To endure the same shame, isolation, and whispers. What she did to me… she deserved every bit of it.

Rumors about Miss Garcia started spreading like wildfire around the school. She swapped out her usual flashy outfits for plain, casual clothes. Even her signature high heels were replaced with flats. It was obvious she was trying to clean up her image. But, as these things go, the gossip only got worse. “Miss Garcia isn’t wearing heels anymore—do you think she’s pregnant?” “Totally. My mom was the same way when she was having my little brother. Loose clothes, flat shoes, the whole deal.” “So… who do you think the dad is?” “Do you really need to ask?” The students burst into laughter, their voices echoing through the halls. Miss Garcia must have overheard because she suddenly yelled, “Quiet!” before dragging the group of whispering students into the hallway. Her scolding was loud enough for the entire corridor to hear. The next day, she returned to her old wardrobe—heels, tight skirts, the works—like she was trying to prove she wasn’t pregnant. But what good did it do? The rumors persisted. Miss Garcia no longer called Mason Taylor to her office as often. Instead, she started targeting me. “Clean the office.” “Take these books to the principal’s office.” “Fetch me a cup of water.” She treated me like her personal assistant. But the real kicker? She constantly called me out in class. In our second year of high school, we had weekly quizzes for every subject. The homeroom teacher—Miss Garcia—was always the proctor. One day, she held up my quiz results in front of the entire class, waving the paper like a trophy. “Some students spend all their time running to the teacher’s office, yet their grades keep dropping.” Then she held up Mason’s quiz alongside another classmate’s. “Now, look at these students. They don’t waste time hanging around teachers, and yet their scores keep improving. See? When you focus on learning, progress happens naturally.” She stared at me, her voice dripping with condescension. “And then there are students who play little tricks to grab a teacher’s attention. But when the teacher tries to help, they repay it with betrayal. It’s disappointing—no, heartbreaking—for a teacher.” Her strategy was clever. By keeping me out of the classroom and constantly sending me on errands, I couldn’t keep up with the lessons. Naturally, my grades started to slip. But the rest of the class didn’t know that. To them, it just looked like I was failing because I wasn’t trying. During one of her rants, the head of academics, Mrs. Watson, happened to walk past our classroom. She paused when she noticed me standing at the back. “What’s going on here, Miss Garcia?” Mrs. Watson asked. Miss Garcia let out a dramatic sigh, pretending to look concerned. “Oh, it’s nothing. Amanda’s grades improved for a while, but now they’ve dropped again. I’m just trying to figure out how to help her.” Mrs. Watson frowned and picked up my quiz paper from Miss Garcia’s desk. “Hmm, Amanda, this isn’t great,” she said, scanning my answers. Then, her expression softened. “Come see me in my office after class. I have some practice tests—you can copy them and share them with your classmates. They’re actual exam questions. I think they’ll help.” I nodded quickly. “Thank you, Mrs. Watson!” Mrs. Watson was a senior teacher in her 50s, highly respected by both students and staff. Even the principal deferred to her judgment. She gave me a kind smile before leaving, completely unaware of how Miss Garcia’s face had darkened. When Mrs. Watson left, Miss Garcia turned back to the class, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Well, everyone, let’s all thank Amanda for being so helpful. Without her, you wouldn’t have access to these practice tests.” But the class didn’t pick up on her tone. Instead, they cheered sincerely. “Thanks, Amanda!” I stood up, bowed slightly, and said with a small smile, “Sorry for dragging the class down. I’ll try my best to catch up.”

I thought the whole thing was over, but I didn’t expect Mason Taylor to block my path after school. Keeping my hand in my pocket, I discreetly turned on the recording device hidden there. “What do you want?” Behind Mason were a few delinquent-looking guys, casually smoking and smirking. Mason stepped closer, his tone mocking. “What do I want?” He flashed a cruel smile. “Don’t you know what you’ve done?” I raised my voice. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” One of the guys behind him let out a sharp whistle. “You’ve got guts, girl. Didn’t anyone tell you not to mess with Mason Taylor?” Another chimed in, laughing, “Yeah, do you even know who you’re messing with? Mason freakin’ Taylor!” I crossed my arms, feigning indifference. “Oh, so you’re the Mason Taylor?” Mason lit a cigarette, smirking smugly. “Who else would it be?” Before I could respond, the headlights of a car cut through the dim alleyway. Miss Garcia stepped out in her usual dramatic fashion, swaying her hips as she approached. Mason immediately slung an arm around her waist, pulling her close. The group of boys let out a chorus of catcalls and whistles. Some shouted “Miss Garcia!” while others called her “sis-in-law,” their laughter echoing in the alley. Miss Garcia rolled her eyes. “Stop calling me that. You’re not my students, so why bother with the formalities?” She gave Mason a knowing look. “Only Mason gets to call me Miss Garcia.” Her gaze shifted coldly to me, a smirk curling at the corner of her lips. Then she turned back to Mason and said casually, “Just don’t kill her, okay?” I froze. I understood exactly what her words meant. As long as they didn’t kill me, anything else was fair game. Miss Garcia got back in her car and drove off without another glance, leaving me surrounded. One of the boys dumped an entire cup of milkshake over my head before I could even react. Then someone grabbed my hair, yanking me to the ground. They dragged me across the pavement while my books spilled out of my backpack, trampled and smeared with footprints and spit. Mason’s voice cut through the chaos. “Strip her. Take pictures.” The boys laughed and got to work, ripping off my clothes piece by piece until I was left in only my undergarments. I struggled, kicking and thrashing, but it only made them more aggressive. Someone kicked me in the ribs, knocking the wind out of me. Just as things were about to get worse, the piercing sound of police sirens echoed through the alley. The boys panicked, snapping a few hurried pictures before scattering. As soon as they were gone, I scrambled to put my clothes back on, my hands shaking. My first instinct was to check the recording device in my pocket. It was intact. When I looked up, I saw someone standing at the entrance to the alley. It was Jeffrey, our school’s student council president. In my last life, Jeffrey had once helped me pick out a book at the library. That simple act had been enough for Miss Garcia and her cronies to spread rumors—that I was trying to seduce him, that my grades were fake, and that I was nothing but a shameless flirt. Seeing him again now, I felt a pang of guilt. In my past life, my ruined reputation had probably affected him too. But at the moment, I didn’t have the luxury of worrying about that. I was filthy, covered in dirt, and still shaking from what had just happened. “Did they leave?” Jeffrey asked calmly. I nodded, realizing it must’ve been him who called the police. He glanced at the recording device in my hand. “Is it broken?” “No,” I replied cautiously. “Then give it to me.” I blinked, confused. “What? No, this is mine.” Jeffrey sighed, removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. For the first time, I noticed something—he looked a lot like Mason. Especially those sharp, piercing eyes. “I helped you,” he said, his tone cool. “Shouldn’t you repay me somehow?” My heart sank, but I kept my expression neutral. I had a suspicion about what he wanted, but I wasn’t sure. Taking a deep breath, I decided to take a gamble. “You want to take Mason down,” I said slowly. “We can work together, but I’m not handing over my leverage. I’m keeping control of this.” Jeffrey froze for a moment, surprised. Then he laughed—a deep, genuine laugh that echoed in the quiet alley. “Whoever said you weren’t smart clearly didn’t know you,” he said, still grinning. “Alright, Amanda. How do you want to do this?” I met his gaze, my voice steady. “I want Miss Garcia ruined. Completely. As for Mason, I’ll document everything he’s done. When the time comes, I’ll decide how to use it.” Jeffrey extended his hand, his grin turning sharp. “Deal. Let’s work together.”

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After transferring schools, I became a target for the rich boys—just another pawn in their twisted games. They acted like they were interested in me, but behind my back, they made bets about who could take my virginity first. What I thought was love was nothing more than a cruel wager. They shared my photos, my private messages, and even drugged me. Eventually, the whole school mocked me, calling me pathetic, desperate, and trash. I was bullied to death by their fanatical admirers. But when I opened my eyes again, the school’s golden boy grinned at me and said, “Rhea, what a beautiful name. May I take you to dinner?” Dinner? Sure. This time, let’s make it your last meal. It was my first day at St. Augustine Academy—a prestigious private school—and also the day I was reborn. I had originally been a top student at a public high school. But St. Augustine had lured me in with promises of a better future, offering me a full scholarship and, after graduation, a $150,000 bonus. That’s five years’ worth of my parents’ combined salaries. The tuition at St. Augustine was so outrageous that my family couldn’t afford even a single semester, even if we starved ourselves for a decade. But with their offer, I couldn’t resist. I thought transferring here would change my life. And I wasn’t wrong—it did. I became their prey, their entertainment, nothing more than a joke to pass the time. They chatted with me sweetly while secretly spreading my private messages and photos. They even made bets about my “first night.” The entire school looked at me like I was a walking punchline. In the end, I was cornered in a bathroom by a group of jealous girls—fans of the boys who had pretended to like me. They drowned me in a toilet, all while hurling insults: “Pathetic loser.” “Desperate fool.” “Daydreaming nerd.” I died humiliated, staring at the photos and messages they had plastered all over the school. As my life slipped away, all I could think about was how much I hated the ones who had orchestrated it all. I wanted to tear those monsters apart. But my consciousness faded before I could even begin to imagine revenge. And then… I woke up. I came back. If there’s such a thing as divine intervention, this was it. I didn’t have much time to bask in the joy of my second chance before I ran into one of the masterminds: Ethan Monroe. Ethan Monroe—the ever-charming gentleman with a smile so warm it could melt anyone’s defenses. How fitting for the heir to a family that monopolized the country’s energy industry. He had enough “electricity” to toy with anyone he pleased. “You must be the new transfer student,” he said, his voice smooth as silk. I pretended to be naïve, nodding shyly. Ethan glanced at the enrollment form in my hand. “Senior class 1A? What a coincidence—looks like we’re in the same class.” His smile was radiant, the kind of smile that had fooled me in my past life. I had fallen so deeply into the web he spun that I didn’t even realize it was a trap until the very end. What I hadn’t known back then was that none of this was a coincidence. Even my transfer to St. Augustine had been part of their plan. I was their carefully chosen prey. And Ethan? He was one of the ringleaders. I could still hear the mocking voices of his admirers in my mind. They had shown me videos of him—the perfect gentleman, his eyes filled with arrogance and disdain. “It’s too boring around here. Of course, we need someone to play with.” “She’s perfect. So desperate to change her fate. It’s hilarious.” And just like that, I had become their entertainment. As we walked toward the classroom, Ethan started giving me a brief rundown of the school’s history, describing it as a haven for the wealthy and privileged. “These kids don’t need good grades to secure their futures,” he said with a laugh. I wasn’t really listening. My mind was already planning. Ethan waved his hand in front of my face, snapping me out of my thoughts. “Rhea Carter. What a beautiful name. May I take you to dinner?” Dinner? Sure. This time, I’ll make it your last supper.

St. Augustine Academy was known for its sky-high tuition fees and rigorous admission process, which naturally kept the student population small. The entire high school division had only about 600 students. Among them, the most famous were Ethan Monroe and his three closest friends. Ethan, the golden boy, was the school’s heartthrob—charming, gentlemanly, and adored by all the girls. Chris Langston, the artsy intellectual, was the principal’s son and had a brooding, poetic vibe that made him stand out. Logan Brooks, the star athlete, had bronzed skin and a muscular build that made hearts race. And finally, Ryan Chase, the senior class valedictorian, was both a top-tier scholar and devastatingly attractive. Together, they were inseparable, and the rest of the school called them the “St. Augustine F4.” In my previous life, all four of them had conveniently “fallen” for me. The rest of my classmates were overly friendly on my first day, going so far as to give me the best seat in the classroom—a spot with a perfect view of the board. But I knew better. These people had treated me as a joke in my past life. My death had been tied to every single one of them. So I played along, smiling politely on the outside while cursing them to hell on the inside. At lunchtime, Ethan led me to his family’s private dining room on campus. The table was overflowing with gourmet dishes, and sitting around it were his three loyal friends. This wasn’t my first time here. In my past life, Ethan had also brought me to this restaurant. I’d stood there awkwardly, unsure of how to act, surrounded by handsome boys and an intimidating spread of international cuisine. I hadn’t dared move a muscle, let alone sit down. The entire meal, I’d been too nervous to speak or eat, instead watching Ethan for cues on what to do. Little did I know, every awkward moment had been caught on camera. They had uploaded the footage to the school’s private online forum, mocking me for my “small-town ignorance,” my inability to use proper table manners, and my so-called “wannabe” behavior. If they wanted a battle of public opinion, fine. Two could play that game. This time, I pulled out my phone and started recording. “Oh my gosh, is this truffle? It looks just like chocolate!” “And this? French foie gras? Isn’t that just… fatty liver?” “I can’t believe how lucky I am to receive such warm treatment from my classmates! Let’s all say thank you to our generous host!” I looked up from my phone, aiming my most innocent smile at Ethan, whose expression had soured into something resembling constipation. “Ethan, you’re so handsome. You wouldn’t mind if I shared this video to help everyone learn a little more about fine dining, would you?” Ethan forced a tight smile, his jaw visibly clenched. “Of course not.” In my past life, my high grades and desire to earn extra money for my family had led me to run a small social media account. Though it hadn’t made much, I’d gained a modest following at school. Ethan and his crew had chosen me as their target because they wanted to tear down the positive, hardworking image I’d built online. Well, if exposure was what they wanted, I’d give it to them—on my terms this time.

In my previous life, I’d been too young and naive to enjoy the luxury of the food in front of me. This time, I glanced at the four boys sitting around me. “No wonder everyone dreams of being a sugar mommy. Turns out spoiling a group of pretty boys feels this good!” The smiles on their faces froze instantly. Feigning surprise, I quickly added, “Oh no, did I just say that out loud? My bad!” “Don’t be shy, everyone! Let’s dig in—pretend we’re all family!” Channeling the spirit of a true host, I didn’t hold back, savoring every dish like a queen. Why let all this good food go to waste by just staring at it? After I’d eaten my fill, Logan Brooks eyed the empty plates in front of me with a mix of shock and admiration. “Rhea, your appetite is impressive. Want to go burn some of that off with me?” I glanced at his deliberately flexed bicep and flashed a bright smile. “Sure! But do you have an eight-pack?” He grinned. “Only six. Is that okay?” I shrugged, pretending to be excited as I raised my phone. “Guess we’ll have to see for ourselves!” But when it came time for Logan to show off his so-called six-pack, he hesitated and awkwardly pulled up his shirt halfway. I took a quick photo, then glanced at it with a raised brow. Wow. Bold of you to brag with… this. Are you not worried about the internet teaching you a lesson? Logan, however, seemed unbothered. He even tried to drag me to the school’s private gym to “show me the joys of fitness.” The gym, of course, was as luxurious as you’d expect from a place like St. Augustine—spotless, fully equipped, and free of the usual sweaty smell. As always, I whipped out my phone, angling it carefully to capture the entire scene before recording Logan as he guided me through the equipment. “Let’s start with pull-ups!” he said confidently. In my past life, I’d been so flustered and nervous that I hadn’t managed to do a single pull-up. Logan had taken the opportunity to “help” by wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me. We’d been so close, I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. Blushing and weak, I couldn’t muster any strength. The school’s private forum had later exploded with the headline: “Chubby Girl Goes for the Kill”—mocking me mercilessly. Now, Logan stood in the same position, asking, “Need me to show you how it’s done?” I nodded, stretching my wrists and ankles. Fitness was Logan’s comfort zone, and after the embarrassment over his “abs,” he was eager to prove himself. He jumped up, knocked out a few pull-ups, and even flashed a sliver of his stomach. I watched through my phone’s screen, already imagining the views this footage would bring me. When Logan finished, sweat dripping down his face, he turned to me. “Want me to guide you through it?” I waved him off, grabbed the bar, and cranked out a set of pull-ups far more impressive than his. “Oh, by the way,” I said casually as I hopped down, “I used to be a personal trainer.”

St. Augustine Academy had its perks, but there was one thing I struggled with: the teaching methods. “Elite education” and “holistic development” were great buzzwords, but they didn’t exactly suit someone like me, who had transferred from a public school and still relied on grades to chase my dreams. In a classroom full of students who didn’t need to worry about their futures, I was the only one who cared about the upcoming college entrance exams. My desk partner happened to be Ryan Chase, the resident genius of St. Augustine. When he noticed me struggling with a question, he slid his notebook over. “Need help, Rhea?” I glanced at his messy handwriting, then at his face. To be honest, his handwriting was nowhere near as good as his looks. “Rhea, you seem stuck. Let me walk you through it,” he offered, assuming I needed his assistance. “You’re wrong,” I said bluntly. Ryan froze. “Where am I wrong?” “You’re overcomplicating it. If you use these two points instead, it’s faster and easier to understand.” Ryan looked like a deflated balloon, no longer eager to speak. The entire day passed without me learning much of anything. In my past life, this was exactly how it had gone. But back then, I’d let their words sway me. They’d told me grades weren’t everything, that I was already smart enough and should focus on building relationships instead. And like an idiot, I’d believed them. I’d gotten so caught up in their world of idle chatter and social games that I’d forgotten what mattered most: my studies. This time, I wouldn’t fall for it. We weren’t born equal. The heights they’d reached effortlessly were places I’d have to struggle my entire life to even glimpse. So, I created a strict schedule for myself, sticking to the study habits that had served me well before. After finishing my review for the day, I turned my attention to editing the photos and videos I’d taken. In my past life, the cyberbullying from one school had been enough to suffocate me. This time, I’d expand the battlefield. One school wasn’t enough. I wanted the entire internet to join the party. I uploaded the video to my account with the title: “My First Day at St. Augustine: Gourmet Food, Hot Guys, and Abs!” The name “St. Augustine Academy” was a magnet for attention, and the video’s view count skyrocketed, quickly breaking all my previous records. Comments flooded in: “OMG, how did she get so lucky? A transfer student with a $150,000 scholarship?!” “Those abs aren’t that great, though. Why was he bragging?” “Trying to show off but ended up getting schooled by the girl. I wonder how big his ‘emotional damage’ is right now.” “Girl, stay true to yourself! Don’t let the glitz and glam blind you!” Every single view and comment translated to money. Watching the numbers climb, I couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in a long time, I slept peacefully that night. Early the next morning, I got up and started memorizing vocabulary words. I had to admit, St. Augustine Academy lived up to its reputation. The campus was stunning, with a tranquil lake surrounded by lush greenery. I sat on a bench by the water, soaking in the scenery as I studied. Just as I was engrossed in my notes, Ethan Monroe appeared, carrying a perfectly arranged breakfast in his hand. “Rhea, you’re up early,” he said with a smile. I mentally reviewed the words I’d just memorized to make sure I had them locked in before turning to him. Ethan’s custom-tailored uniform accentuated his long legs, and he deliberately angled his face to show off his best side. I glanced at the breakfast tray he was holding—milk, bread, and fruit. “Is that for me?” I asked, pretending to gaze at him with wide, admiring eyes. Ethan nodded and even pulled out a picnic blanket, spreading it neatly on the grass. Once everything was set up, I casually pulled out my phone and started snapping pictures.

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My son was overjoyed when he received a scholarship to a prestigious school and couldn’t wait to share the good news with me. On our way to buy him a new computer as a reward, we were suddenly attacked by a knife-wielding thug. In that split second, my son bravely stepped in front of me to protect me. Though I was unharmed, my son was severely injured and rushed to the hospital! With tears in his eyes, my husband said: “Honey, the doctor says our son’s condition is critical. Only you, with your surgical expertise, can perform this operation.” My father-in-law, too, pleaded with tears: “Sunny got hurt protecting you. You have to save him!” My mother-in-law’s body trembled as she nearly knelt before me, begging me to save our son. I extended my hand coldly, revealing a shallow cut on my wrist: “I’m sorry. My hand is injured. I can’t perform the surgery.” “Sunny was so excited about the scholarship that he rushed off to tell you the good news without even packing his things.” “He was fine when he left home. How could he suddenly end up in the emergency room?!” My mother-in-law arrived at the hospital, full of confusion and anxiety, questioning me. Calmly seated outside the hospital room, I replied: “He did come to the company to share the scholarship news with me.” “He wanted to celebrate with a meal, and as we reached the restaurant entrance, the thug charged at me.” “Sunny pushed me out of harm’s way with all his strength to save me. I was unharmed, but he was gravely injured.” Upon hearing my account, my mother-in-law burst into uncontrollable tears. My father-in-law sighed deeply: “This child has always been so brave and devoted. In a life-or-death moment, he valued your safety above his own.” Despite his deep sorrow, my husband Declan tried to comfort me: “Don’t blame yourself too much.” “Sunny has always been close to you. He did this to ensure your safety. As long as you’re okay, he can endure this.” Declan’s voice was gentle, and his concern was sincere and deep. Hearing this, my father-in-law nodded and added: “Yes, Hazel, Sunny has always been close to you. You have to stay strong and not let him worry.” My mother-in-law blamed herself, “It’s all my fault. I should have been with Sunny.” “If I were there, I wouldn’t have let anything happen to either of you, even at the cost of my life!” Even though Sunny is their beloved child and they know he’s in critical condition because of me, they suppress their grief to comfort me, not putting any pressure on me. Seeing their concerned faces, I remained silent.

During the rescue, critical condition notices kept arriving. Sunny’s situation was extremely severe. As everyone anxiously waited, the attending doctor emerged from the operating room with a grave expression. He walked straight to me and urgently said, “Dr. Hazel, the patient’s condition is very dangerous. We’ve done everything we can.” “You’re a surgical expert. If you perform the surgery, there’s a slim chance of survival for the patient!” Hearing this, my father-in-law immediately pleaded with me: “Hazel, Sunny got hurt saving you. You can’t let anything happen to him!” My mother-in-law wiped her tears and added, her voice trembling: “Yes, Hazel, Sunny is still so young with a bright future ahead. You have to save him!” Declan looked at me earnestly: “Honey, Sunny’s life is in your hands.” The three of them placed their hope in me, their eyes filled with worry and pleading. But I calmly extended my hand, showing the shallow cut on my wrist, and said: “Sorry, my hand is injured. It’s not convenient for me to perform surgery.” My refusal left everyone stunned. The attending doctor was bewildered: “Dr. Hazel, it’s just a small cut. It won’t affect the surgery at all!” “The patient is in critical condition. Every minute of delay could be fatal for him.” Hearing this, my mother-in-law anxiously cried, pleading with me: “Hazel, the doctor said your injury doesn’t matter. Sunny’s situation can’t wait. Please go save him!” My father-in-law, with tearful eyes, said to me: “Hazel, Sunny is your biological son. He risked his life for you. Are you really going to watch him die on the operating table?” Declan looked at me with worry: “Hazel, are you hurt somewhere else?” With that, Declan started examining me carefully, as if convinced there was something I wasn’t saying. But I remained indifferent and replied coldly: “No need to check. Thanks to Sunny saving me in time, I’m completely fine.” Hearing this, Declan became agitated: “Then why won’t you save Sunny? Don’t you know how sensible and loving he is?” “The first thing he said when he got the scholarship was that you would be proud of him, so he couldn’t wait to tell you.” “He risked his life to save you, and now you’re leaving him to die?!” Even the usually gentle Declan couldn’t hold back his anger. My mother-in-law frowned, confused, and said: “Hazel, you’re the most important and admired person in Sunny’s heart. He studied hard and got the scholarship to make you happy.” “He protected you with everything he had. How can you abandon him at such a critical moment?” My father-in-law, devastated, pleaded with me: “Yes, if Sunny knew that the mother he always looked up to didn’t care about his life and death, how desperate would he be?” I looked at the three of them, who were heartbroken, and responded earnestly: “The hospital has a rule against performing surgery on direct relatives.” “I can’t break hospital rules.” “I can’t do this surgery.”

After saying this, I didn’t wait for their reaction and got up to leave. “Dr. Hazel, is the hospital rule more important than your son’s life?” “If even you don’t help, the patient really has no chance of survival!” The attending doctor called after me, trying to stop me. But I remained indifferent and resolute, leaving without looking back. As I reached the hospital entrance, my in-laws and Declan caught up with me. My mother-in-law knelt in front of me, begging: “Hazel, I’m begging you. You can’t leave. If you leave, Sunny has no hope!” Her public kneeling drew the attention of people around. “Isn’t that Dr. Hazel, the surgical expert? What’s going on?” “I heard her son got stabbed by a thug trying to save her, and now she’s leaving him to die while her family begs her!” Hearing the story, those present were filled with righteous indignation: “I never expected Dr. Hazel, who seemed so responsible with patients, to be so cold to her own son?” “She was probably just putting on a show before. How can she truly care for patients if she’s so heartless to her child?” “Exactly, what kind of mother leaves her child to die? She’s no different from a demon!” “Even a tiger wouldn’t harm its cubs. It’s a pity her son, so filial and brave, risked his life to save such a cruel mother!” The crowd’s curses flew, and they all branded me as a villain. Even those patients and families I had helped before, who respected me, now looked at me with disdain and disgust. Amidst the crowd’s gossip, my father-in-law, wiping tears, spoke to me earnestly: “Hazel, I can’t believe you’re really such a cold and heartless person.” “When you gave birth to Sunny, you almost died from a difficult labor but kept telling the doctor to save the child.” “You said this child was more important than your life and that you’d do anything as long as he survived.” “Sunny is the child you risked your life for. You wouldn’t just stand by and watch him die because of you, right?!” With tears streaming down his face, my father-in-law looked at me with eyes full of pleading and hope. But I remained unmoved, just quietly watching him without saying a word. Declan, seeing my indifference, became increasingly anxious, his voice rising: “Hazel , lying in that operating room is your son, who protected you with his life!” “Are you really going to be so heartless?!”

I looked at them, speaking seriously: “I’m truly powerless.” I once again refused, decisively. This shattered the hope in Declan and my in-laws’ eyes instantly. The emotions of the onlookers were completely ignited. They hurled the most vicious curses and insults at me. Some even took out their phones, filming me, starting live streams. They accused me of all sorts of evil deeds to a wider audience. Suddenly, every live stream was condemning me. Whether or not I should save my son became a trending topic online. “If she wanted to save her son, she would’ve done it by now. Why wait until now?” “Exactly. Look at her indifferent face. It’s obvious she’s heartless!” “If not for the live stream, I couldn’t have imagined a mother like this exists.” “Her son is dying to save her, and she’s acting like nothing’s wrong. It’s disgusting!” The internet was filled with curses against me. The angry crowd threw fruit peels and paper scraps at me. I stood, like a lamb to the slaughter, amid a pile of trash, enduring endless insults. “She could have saved her son long ago if she had wanted to. Why wait until now?” “Exactly, just look at her cold expression. She clearly lacks any compassion!” “If I hadn’t watched the live stream, I wouldn’t have believed there could be such a mother.” “Her son is on the brink of death trying to save her, and she acts completely unfazed. It’s repulsive!” The internet was flooded with insults targeting me. Angry onlookers hurled fruit peels and scraps of paper in my direction. I stood there, overwhelmed by the barrage of insults, feeling utterly helpless. Declan’s emotions were at their breaking point. The tenderness and affection in his gaze were gone, replaced by unending anger. “Hazel, I’m asking you one last time. Are you going to save Sunny?” Declan was livid. His bloodshot eyes looked ready to burst. Yet, I remained calm and resolute: “I won’t sacrifice my career for personal reasons.” Slap! No sooner had I finished speaking than Declan, unable to restrain himself, slapped me hard across the face. “So your so-called career is more important than your own son’s life?!” “Hazel, I refuse to stand by and watch Sunny die in the operating room.” “Today, you must save Sunny!” “If anything happens to Sunny, I’ll make sure you join him!” With those words, Declan roughly dragged me towards the hospital’s operating room. His parents followed closely behind. The crowd applauded, and live-stream cameras captured every moment. In the live stream comments, viewers were thrilled to see Declan finally take a stand. The entire scene was buzzing with excitement. However, as Declan dragged me to the operating room door… The doors suddenly opened. The attending physician emerged, sighing deeply: “The patient couldn’t be saved. He’s already gone.”

In the stunned silence, my son’s body was wheeled out. Declan and his father rushed forward, crying out in grief. My mother-in-law spat out a mouthful of blood and collapsed. Meanwhile, I silently took out my phone and dialed the police: “Hello, I’d like to report a crime.” “My son was murdered.” Before the person on the other end could respond, Declan stormed over and knocked the phone from my hand. Gritting his teeth, he accused: “Hazel, you still have the nerve to call the police?” “You killed our son.” “You upset my mom so much she spat blood.” “Are you satisfied now?!” Declan’s veins bulged on his forehead, his voice booming. His eyes bore into mine with an unprecedented fury. My father-in-law, supporting his weakened wife, spoke with tears and a trembling voice: “Hazel, how could we have trusted someone as heartless as you?” “What did we do to deserve this from you?” “Our family was destroyed by you!” His words were full of genuine sorrow and regret. Having me as a daughter-in-law felt like his life’s greatest shame. Seeing Declan and my father-in-law so outraged, the crowd also joined in. “This woman killed her own son and still has the nerve to call the police?” “Is she trying to have herself arrested?” “How could someone so heartless have such awareness?” “It’s sickening. Why isn’t it her who’s dead?” The people were furious, hurling angry curses at me. The live stream comments scrolled rapidly with unrestrained condemnation, cursing me to hell. With everyone hating me because of my son’s death, they all wished I’d just disappear. But under their resentful gazes, I looked at Declan and his parents, their eyes red from crying. I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. Seeing this, Declan’s brows furrowed, struggling to contain his anger, he asked in a low voice: “What are you laughing at?” “Our son is dead, and you can still laugh?” My mother-in-law, after catching her breath, looked at me weakly and said: “This is a sin!” “My poor Sunny, how did he end up with such a cold-hearted mother?” “How did our family end up with such a heartless daughter-in-law?” “Your own son died, and as a mother, you can still laugh.” She was heartbroken. For Sunny and for the misplaced trust. Seeing her heartbroken and angry face. I just laughed: “Stop pretending.” Hearing this, Declan grew even more furious: “Pretending?” He pointed at our son’s body, full of resentment: “Sunny’s body is right in front of you. He died saving you, and you didn’t shed a single tear. You think our grief is just an act?” “Hazel, you’re a heartless monster!” “You don’t deserve a son as good as Sunny!” Declan’s anguished roar resonated with the onlookers. Everyone stopped being silent and began to scream insults at me. The live stream comments were unrelenting, showing the deepest malice. Facing all those eyes wanting to tear me apart, I smiled. I did something that shocked everyone… In the eyes of the entire audience, I raised my hand and slapped Declan hard across the face. Slap! The crisp sound of the slap made the noisy scene fall silent. Everyone looked at me in disbelief. Nobody expected that the accused villain, me, would dare to strike first and slap Declan publicly.

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I spent a decade as a specialist in proctology, conducting numerous examinations daily. To be honest, I maintained a professional detachment throughout. One day, a man accompanying a patient exclaimed, “You have no right to examine my child’s condition!” “If you fail to treat her, I’ll hold your entire family accountable!” I gestured towards the door, “The psychiatric clinic is upstairs to the left. Next patient, please!” That remark led to five years of unemployment, two years of begging, and ultimately, I met my end in a street accident. It also caused undue suffering for my mother. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my office. In front of me stood an impeccably dressed, attractive couple. “I’m sorry, but without an appointment, I can’t see you.” “Director? Director!” I snapped out of it, “Yes, what is it?” “Director, have you been resting well lately? I brought you some hot water.” A cup of hot water appeared on my desk. I looked up and saw it was Leo, my intern from eight years ago. “It’s alright, just a lot of patients recently. I just need a moment.” I surveyed my surroundings. This was my office. Specifically, it was the office I had eight years ago when I was the head of the proctology department at City General Hospital. A bold idea crossed my mind. I pinched myself—ouch, not a dream. I found myself back to where it all began eight years ago. “Shall I call in the next patient?” Leo asked. I nodded. Moments later, the door opened. A striking woman walked in, exuding elegance, her designer attire making her seem unapproachable. A man followed her, his gaze sharp and authoritative. I was taken aback—it was them. The sting in my palm brought me back. I looked down and saw a nail mark in my hand. The woman blushed and shyly introduced herself, “Hello, Doctor, I’m Nora.” Nora was polite enough. The man beside her looked disdainful. “Who do you think you are? You’re not qualified to examine my child’s condition!” The same dialogue, the same scene. I was even more certain I had been given a second chance. Nora tugged at Declan’s sleeve, giving him a playful glance. “Apologies, but as a specialist with ten years of experience at City General Hospital and the current head of the department, I believe I am.” Declan’s expression darkened, his gaze icy, as if contemplating my downfall. He snorted, “If you can’t treat Nora, I’ll make sure your entire family pays!” There it was again. Even in a proctology department, his CEO persona was unyielding. In my previous life, when he said that, I was speechless. Was this guy out of his mind? It’s 2099, and people still mimic lines from decades ago. So I genuinely suggested he see a mental health professional. Declan’s CEO pride was offended, and he used his influence to fabricate medical mishaps, forcing me to resign. Not only that, but he also warned all hospitals not to hire me, leaving me unemployed. Unable to work in a hospital, I tried factories, but Declan blocked all my paths—no business dared hire me. I survived by intermittently setting up stalls and scavenging for recyclables. I drank rainwater and ate discarded cold takeout from trash bins. Snapping back to reality, I flipped through the records. “I’m sorry, but without an appointment, I can’t see you.”###Chapter

CEOs typically have family doctors and private clinics, so they never need to visit public hospitals and wouldn’t know about the appointment system at City General. Moreover, I’m a specialist. You need to book my appointments a day in advance since I only have one duty day a week. My slots are hard to get. “Doctor, I was just called! I went to the bathroom, sorry, sorry!” The office door opened, and the actual patient with an appointment walked in. I glanced at Declan and Nora, “Unrelated individuals, please leave.” Their faces turned various shades of green and red. Nora stood up, embarrassed, dragging Declan out. Just before leaving, Declan glared daggers at me. I returned his gaze, prepared to call security to escort them out for cutting in line, but he quickly looked away. After the checkup, I wrote a prescription. “Take this to the nurse.” “Ding dong” A bell chimed. I looked around, curious about the source. “Host Ethan, hello! I’m the Pain Transfer System 012. Congratulations on getting through Declan’s verbal attack and avoiding further tragedy!” A system? Is this the advantage of my rebirth? “What does the Pain Transfer System mean?” I asked mentally. “As the name suggests, I can help transfer the pain of symptoms. When it activates in you, it means that for every patient you successfully treat, their past pains will transfer to the male lead, Declan.” I nodded. Declan’s in for some serious discomfort. But I quickly caught onto a term—”male lead.” The system said Declan was the male lead. Was my world part of a novel? “Correct, host. You live in the book ‘The CEO’s Sweet Naive Wife,’ where Nora is the female lead, and Declan is the male lead.” The system briefly explained the book’s content. I was amazed. “Due to your death, Declan and Nora’s character settings collapsed, so City Hall gave you a chance to be reborn with a system.” I understood. In simple terms, this rebirth was my chance for revenge. Reflecting on my past life, Declan bore a grudge against me, hiring thugs to cause trouble at the hospital and attributing numerous false medical incidents to me. I worked tirelessly to gather evidence and refute the claims. Even when resolved, the leaders still doubted me. Numerous external exchange projects no longer bore my name. I was excluded from major lectures, and Declan’s people replaced me in positions I worked hard to attain. I thought, as long as I could still work, it was enough. I couldn’t fight a wealthy heir. I apologized! I sincerely sought out Declan to apologize. But he remained aloof, saying simply, “So, who are you?” I thought the matter was over. But soon after settling into work, Declan’s people accused me of stealing hospital drugs and being morally corrupt! I was dismissed, and no hospital dared hire me. I lived in a daze. My parents felt heartbroken, hugging me tightly, saying, “It’s okay! If the sky falls, your parents will hold it up!” But I didn’t expect Declan to spare even my parents! Nora accused my mom of stealing her jewelry. Though evidence was lacking, her status led the police to sentence my mom. Dad went to visit, only to return with a small box. I had never seen Dad so defeated. It was all my fault. If not for me, Mom wouldn’t have died. I cried until I couldn’t speak. Dad gently held me, patting my back. Soon after, I received news of Dad’s death. He had a car accident while driving, dying on the spot. I almost fainted. I put down the pancake I was making and grabbed a taxi straight to the scene. My loving dad stayed forever in that car, covered in blood, unable to hug and comfort me anymore. The car he drove was familiar—the one Declan often rode! Declan again! I yelled, “Isn’t this enough?! After all this, what more do you want? Go to hell! Go to hell! Go to hell!” “Host?”

I blinked, snapping out of my memories. Declan, Nora, so what if you’re the leads? I crawled back from hell, and even if you have a halo, I’ll shatter it and make you swallow it with blood! Our family’s lives will be repaid with yours! City A is teeming with talent. In such a city, becoming a department head at City General Hospital and an honorary professor at A University speaks volumes about my exceptional medical skills. No humility here—I could be called the top proctologist in the country. Business trips and exchanges were common. After finishing today’s duty shift, I immediately requested an exchange from my leader. The leader agreed quickly, as there was a project waiting. For a doctor of my level, exchanges last at least a month. While I’m away, Nora’s illness will drag on, and while I perform surgeries, Declan’s condition will worsen. I acted immediately. After work, I packed my things, dragged my suitcase, and boarded a plane. The system was handy, always updating me. On my first day in City C, after academic exchanges. System: “Nora went to the hospital looking for you, only to find your name missing from the registry.” “Declan must be fuming. His first time lowering himself for a doctor, only to find the doctor isn’t on duty.” I laughed, imagining his face turning black with rage. Leo, whom I left at City General, called me around this time. “Teacher, am I disturbing you?” “Remember that couple from yesterday? The one with CEO lines.” Leo sounded excited, as if something interesting had happened. “Yes, what’s up?” “They caused quite a scene at the hospital today. It was something else!” Leo described it vividly, and I could almost see the scene myself. Declan and Nora had come to the hospital only to find out I was away on a business trip. The top colorectal specialist they wanted to see was out too! For someone like Declan, who is used to getting his way, this was intolerable. He made a scene in the hospital lobby, barking into his phone, “You have three minutes! Get that woman here, or your whole family will pay!” With the hospital packed, his outburst drew everyone’s attention. “Is he out of his mind? No helping him now!” “Hey dude, the psych ward is on the third floor. Need a hand getting there?” a cheerful hospital volunteer chimed in. “Scram! Do you even know who I am?” Well, Declan definitely got the psychiatric department’s attention. I thanked Leo for the update and hung up. I had a surgery scheduled for the afternoon and was already eager to hear about Declan’s hemorrhoid woes.

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In the seventh year of my relationship with Ethan Shaw, his long-dead first love “came back to life.” He reunited with her and spent every day by her side. The once arrogant Ethan would now bend down to tie her shoelaces when no one was looking, and his eyes would turn red with concern when she pricked her finger. At that moment, I knew my relationship with Ethan had come to an end. I boarded a plane to leave, but that flight crashed later that night, with no survivors among the hundred-plus passengers. When Ethan heard the news, he went mad, holding my clothes and crying day and night with regret. But what he didn’t know was that I never got on that plane. I had just finished showering when I received a text from Ethan’s best friend. “Sis, Ethan’s had a bit too much to drink. Could you come pick him up?” The location was a bar they frequented. Ethan had taken me there before, but I didn’t like such noisy environments, so more often than not, I just went to pick up a drunk Ethan. I replied, “Sure, I’ll be right there.” I quickly changed and headed out. At the bar, someone led me to the VIP room on the top floor. The decor was luxurious, and only the rich and powerful could access the top floor. The door to the room was slightly ajar, but instead of the expected noise, it was eerily quiet inside. Suspicious, I pushed the door open. Suddenly, there was a “pop,” and confetti rained down from above. Soft music filled the air, and the floor was covered with heart-shaped candles. I looked up to see Ethan standing not far away, holding a bouquet of red roses and gazing at me lovingly. “Natalie, will you marry me?” He walked towards me, one step at a time, then knelt on one knee. He took out a ring from his pocket and held it up to me. The friends in the room started to cheer, chanting in unison, “Say yes! Say yes!” My eyes welled up with tears. I had imagined this scene countless times. Him in a suit, holding roses, walking towards me, proposing in front of our friends, with their blessings. We had walked this path for seven whole years. “I wi-” Before I could finish saying “I will,” this romantic atmosphere was shattered by the sound of breaking bottles. The room was dimly lit, and we heard a waiter frantically apologizing. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” “What kind of clumsy waiter did they hire? Just fire them already,” someone grumbled, scaring the waiter so much that they fell to their knees. “Please don’t fire me. I’m sorry. How much was the wine? I’ll pay for it. Please don’t report this to the manager.” Not wanting to be too hard on the waiter, I quickly said, “It’s okay, you don’t need to pay. You can go now.” But they didn’t move, just kept crying on their knees. After a while, it started to get annoying. The commotion soon reached the manager’s ears. He didn’t dare delay and came running, knowing he couldn’t afford to offend the VIP guests. “I’m terribly sorry, gentlemen. It’s our fault. All the drinks in the room tonight are on the house.” The manager was very polite, bowing and apologizing as soon as he entered. We were all easy-going and not short on money, so a few bottles of wine weren’t worth making a big fuss over. But some of Ethan’s friends loved to play around. They opened a bottle of beer and put it on the table, smirking at the waiter. “Drink this whole bottle, and we’ll let it go. In fact, I’ll even give you a thousand bucks.” The female waiter was about to refuse when the manager scolded her, “Lily, drink up and apologize to these gentlemen.” “What did you say her name was?” Ethan, who had been silent until now, suddenly spoke up coldly. His voice was trembling slightly. Someone turned on the lights, and everyone gasped. Because the waiter’s face was identical to Ethan’s “deceased” first love.

“Lily? You’re Lily? Are you human or ghost?” someone who knew Lily exclaimed. I didn’t know Lily, but I had heard about her history with Ethan. While everyone was still questioning whether Lily was real or not, Ethan suddenly pushed me aside and rushed over to her. It happened so suddenly that I lost my balance and fell to the ground, my palm landing directly on some broken glass. Blood immediately started flowing. “Is it really you, Lily? How are you here?” Ethan’s eyes were red as he held Lily tightly in his arms, completely ignoring me on the side, injured. The pain in my heart was far more lethal than the pain in my hand. “Bro, your girlfriend is still here,” the guy who had been joking earlier reminded Ethan quietly. To everyone’s surprise, Ethan then picked up the bottle of beer from the table and smashed it over the guy’s head without hesitation. “Get your medical expenses from Shaw Corp. As for our previous business deal, consider it void.” His eyes were filled with coldness. Though he didn’t spell it out, everyone present could hear the warning in his tone. The man had just been giving Lily a hard time, and Ethan was making an example of him, showing that even after seven years, Lily’s place in his heart remained unshakeable. No one in the room dared to speak, and no one came to help me up. Lily had been kneeling where there was broken glass too, and now her knees were bleeding. Without a word, Ethan took off his jacket and draped it over Lily’s shoulders. Then, in front of everyone, he put his arm around her waist and picked her up. Lily curled up in his arms, her slender body shaking with sobs, evoking sympathy from those around. This intimate scene was like a knife twisting in my eyes. He left in a hurry, only giving me a calm glance and saying flatly, “Lily’s hurt. You can go home by yourself.”

After getting bandaged at the hospital, I returned home and sat on the sofa until three in the morning before Ethan finally came back, with Lily in tow. He carried Lily straight upstairs, completely ignoring me on the sofa. “Ethan, put me down. Your wife is still here,” Lily reminded him softly, and only then did Ethan pause and look over. “Your knee just got bandaged. Don’t move around,” Ethan patiently coaxed Lily, and afraid of upsetting her, he added, “We’re not married yet. She’s not my wife.” He distanced himself from me completely, his indifferent expression as if he had never known me. The romantic proposal scene from yesterday seemed like a dream I had. I looked up at the two of them. They looked like a loving couple, while I was the intruder, out of place. Suppressing the pain in my heart, I smiled softly and said, “Ethan, I accepted your proposal yesterday.” Ethan’s body stiffened, and he looked troubled. Before, he had been afraid I wouldn’t accept his proposal. Now, he was afraid that I had accepted it. He didn’t answer me immediately. Instead, he lowered his gaze and gently comforted Lily in his arms, “Be good. I’ll take you to your room to rest first. I’ll handle things here.” Throughout all this, he never once looked at me, either out of guilt or disgust. I think he must have been disgusted with me. Ethan wouldn’t feel guilty; he would only blame my existence for interfering with his freedom with Lily. After a while, Ethan finally came down from upstairs and sat across from me. We once had countless intimate moments, but now it felt like an entire galaxy separated us. “What’s the deal with Lily?” I asked. “Natalie, let’s not rush into the wedding,” he said softly. I knew why, but I still asked, “Because of her? Are you planning to marry her?” “Lily’s not in a good emotional state. I’m afraid of upsetting her. She’s suffered a lot these years, and I want to make it up to her.” Although I already had the answer in my heart, hearing Ethan say it out loud still made my heart clench painfully. Tears welled up uncontrollably. I’m not the cool, calm protagonist from a novel. I’m just an ordinary person who cries and becomes hysterical when faced with betrayal from the one I love. “Ethan, why are you doing this to me? You feel sorry for her, but do you feel sorry for me? We’ve been together for seven years! The wedding invitations have already been sent out, and now you want to postpone our marriage for her? Should I step down and give the bride’s position to her?” “Natalie! Keep your voice down. Lily is still sleeping. This has nothing to do with her! It’s me who wants to make amends!” Ethan pinched the bridge of his nose, looking extremely impatient. My emotions exploded, and I raised my hand to slap Ethan. But before my hand could land, a small figure rushed forward and stood in front of Ethan. I couldn’t stop in time, and that slap landed hard on Lily’s face. I had put all my strength into that slap. It made Lily cry, and it also shattered the years of love between Ethan and me.

“Slap!” Almost instantly, Ethan raised his hand and slapped me hard. The taste of blood spread in my mouth, and the ringing in my ears momentarily drowned out Ethan’s curses. I only saw him protectively shielding Lily behind him. “Natalie, have you gone mad? How could you become like this? You’re acting like a shrew!” I heard this sentence clearly. I stood there, stunned, holding my face and staring at the man before me. This man, who once protected me like a precious treasure and wouldn’t let even a hair on my head be harmed, had now hit me for Lily’s sake. He drove me to madness, silently watched me go mad, and then stood on his high horse to accuse me of being a shrew. But he forgot that it was once my goodness and innocence that had attracted him. “It’s my fault. It’s my appearance that caused discord between you. Ms. Chen, if you have any grievances, take them out on me. It has nothing to do with Ethan. He’s a good person. I shouldn’t have appeared,” Lily cried in Ethan’s arms, repeatedly apologizing to me. She was naturally pure-looking, and even after all these years, her crying face still looked pitiful and heart-wrenching. “Don’t cry, Lily. It’s not your fault,” Ethan gently kissed away the tears at the corners of her eyes, patiently comforting her. “No, it’s my fault. Ethan, I shouldn’t have survived. It would have been better if I had died seven years ago.” The incident from seven years ago had always been a painful memory for Ethan. He shook his head and held Lily tightly in his arms. “Natalie, you should move out for now. Lily can’t take any more shocks,” Ethan said to me seriously after comforting Lily. His eyes were filled with countless emotions, but love wasn’t one of them. “Ethan, let’s break up,” I sighed lightly. I thought Ethan would try to stop me, but when I said those words, he visibly relaxed, his whole demeanor becoming more at ease. “As you wish. Don’t regret it later.”

I moved out of Ethan’s place that very day. Ironically, after seven years, everything I could take with me fit into a single suitcase. As compensation, Ethan gave me a villa in the East District. I didn’t refuse, but I didn’t move in either. Instead, I immediately put it up for sale. That area was prime real estate, and the house attracted many potential buyers as soon as it was listed. In the end, it sold for over a million dollars. With that money, I rented an apartment in a remote neighborhood far from the city center. On the first day I moved in, I installed a hidden camera at the entrance. I knew it would come in handy someday. Since I left Ethan, he and Lily have been constantly trending on social media, either caught kissing on the streets late at night or showing affection in public. Even I, the ex-girlfriend, was dug up by netizens. Some sympathized with me for wasting seven years, some mocked me for being a homewrecker, and others envied me for getting a huge breakup settlement that would set me up for life. But the buzz came and went quickly, and it didn’t affect me much either way. Ethan called me a few times in between, but I put my phone on silent and deliberately didn’t answer. I didn’t expect him to show up at my doorstep. The door was being knocked so hard it seemed like it might break. I irritably opened it to find Ethan standing there with a dark expression. “Natalie, you’re getting bolder. You sold the villa to live in this dump?” “We’ve broken up. Where I live is none of your business, is it?” These days, I’ve slowly come to accept the fact that I’m not loved, and facing Ethan, though there’s still pain inside, I’ve become much calmer. “If I hadn’t gone to the East District to look for you, I wouldn’t have known you sold the house the day we broke up! Natalie, have I ever let you want for money in all our time together?” He specially came to find me, it seems there’s something important. “Is there something you need? If not, please leave. This dump is too small to accommodate your majesty.” I made a move to close the door, but Ethan stopped it with his hand. “Next week, I’m planning to hold a press conference to announce my engagement to Lily. But I hope you can be there to make a statement that we broke up due to incompatibility, and it has nothing to do with Lily.” I couldn’t help but laugh, and as I laughed, tears started to flow uncontrollably. He made me feel like a joke. Asking me to make a statement to justify their relationship, did he hit his head, or did I? “Ethan, I really want to know, in these seven years, did you ever love me at all?” If there was even a moment of love, he wouldn’t keep stabbing my heart like this over and over again. Ethan was silent for a long time. Finally, he looked at me apologetically, “Natalie, I tried. I just couldn’t fall in love with you.”

In the end, I didn’t go to the press conference. That day, all major platforms were live streaming the event. Ethan appeared on screen in a suit, holding Lily’s hand. In the time since I last saw her, Lily had transformed completely, looking exquisite and beautiful in a haute couture dress. A handsome man and a beautiful woman, plus the first love storyline, moved everyone present with their touching love story. I turned off the TV and threw on a jacket, planning to go downstairs for something to eat. Although where I lived wasn’t as upscale, there was a street food alley right downstairs, full of local flavor. I ate and drank my fill before leisurely heading home. The facilities in my neighborhood were old, and the street lights usually flickered. Today, they had given up working altogether. I’m quite afraid of the dark, so I quickened my pace. Just as I reached the entrance of my building, a dark figure blocked my way. I shone my flashlight on him – it was Ethan’s good friend, the one who had his head smashed at the bar that day. “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time, Natalie,” he said. The wound on his head hadn’t healed yet, looking particularly horrifying in the darkness. I took a few steps back. “How did you know I was here? What do you want?” I didn’t have much interaction with the people around Ethan. They were wary of him, so they usually just called me “sis” for show when we met. Only this man would let his gaze linger on me unscrupulously. He smiled lecherously, approaching me step by step. “Of course someone told me your address. Sis, oh no, Natalie, I’ve always liked you. Now that you’ve broken up with Ethan, why don’t you be with me? I don’t mind picking up his used goods.” My stomach churned, and I almost threw up everything I had eaten earlier. “I’m sorry, but I think I’m going to be sick. Could you please stay away from me?” Instead of backing off, he came closer, even reaching out to touch my face.

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The advertising executive suggested shooting at the snowy mountain peak in Alaska. I followed along, only to encounter an avalanche that cost me both my legs. My fiancée rushed to the hospital, but when I was asleep, she kissed another man’s lips by my bedside. “Adam, you scared me to death. Thank God it was Noah who lost his legs.” “Now that he’s lost his legs, how can he dance and flirt with others anymore!” The man was none other than Adam, the advertising executive who had proposed the mountain shoot. He held Sophia tightly, indulging in passionate embraces. “Silly, how could I bear to leave you? If anyone should go, it should be Noah… Why didn’t that avalanche take his life?” I lay in bed, silently shedding tears. Once upon a time, Sophia had pulled me out of the darkness, a beacon of hope in my bleak world. Yet this decade-long bond crumbled like a roadblock in the face of “true love.” If that’s how it is, why should I cling to her? But when it came time to part ways, Sophia’s eyes welled up with tears, begging me to return to her side. #

Sophia burst through the door just as the nurse was cleaning my wound. Seeing my empty pant legs, she froze, tears streaming down her face. Still unable to accept the loss of my legs, I worried about her distress and forced a smile, saying, “Sophia, I’m fine. Don’t cry.” How could I be fine? A dancer can lose anything but a pair of healthy legs. Sophia rushed over and hugged my waist tightly, her voice trembling as she comforted me. “Noah, from now on, I’ll take care of you. It doesn’t matter if you can’t dance anymore.” Her words brought tears to my eyes as I slowly realized the chain reaction of losing my legs. Unable to perform on stage, losing my source of income and skills to maintain a living, gradually becoming marginalized in society… My eyes stung with tears, “I’m sorry I can’t give you a perfect wedding now.” Sophia gently kissed away my tears, “As long as we love each other, what does a wedding matter?” Her loving gaze was like a healing medicine, allowing me to see a glimmer of hope in my desperate situation. “Noah, your fiancée is so good to you,” the man in the other hospital bed praised enviously. Before I could respond, his words suddenly turned sharp, “It’s just a pity that she’ll have to spend the rest of her life with a cripple.” I clenched my fists tightly, my heart feeling as if it had been stabbed by a thousand needles. The usually gentle Sophia’s face darkened as she scolded, “Enough! I don’t find it difficult, why are you worrying for me? Who are you to meddle in our affairs!” Other members of the production team couldn’t stand by silently either, criticizing him, “Yeah, if it weren’t for you insisting on shooting in a dangerous area and making so much noise, would there have been an avalanche?!” Adam lowered his head guiltily, his tall frame curling up in pain. “I’m sorry, I was too obsessed with perfection, which led to Mr. Lin getting hurt…” “If I could, I’d give him my legs!” Sophia sneered, “It’s too late for that now. Noah’s legs are ruined! He can never dance again!” Although I knew Sophia was standing up for me, their dialogue felt like a sharp blade, cutting deep into my heart. Suppressing the bitterness rising in my throat, I held Sophia’s trembling hand and said, “That’s enough, Sophia. I want to rest now.” Sophia always wore a gentle smile when facing me. She tucked me in, and the world finally fell silent. After receiving painkillers, my thoughts remained hazy and confused. I couldn’t sleep, but at least Sophia was by my side. Thankfully, she would stay with me. With her companionship, the rest of my life wouldn’t be too bitter. I closed my eyes heavily, and soon after, the warmth beside me gradually dissipated. I suddenly woke up, about to call out, when Sophia’s voice broke the silence of the hospital room. “Hey, are you really angry?” The next second, Adam’s voice hit my eardrums: “Who am I? You know very well, baby.” In the reflection of the window, I witnessed a shocking and heartbreaking scene. In the dim light of the bedside lamp, Sophia clung to the man’s neck and kissed him forcefully. Their lips and teeth intertwined, making intimate sounds as she gasped for air and begged. “I’m sorry, I spoke too harshly.” “But if I didn’t say that, Noah would’ve become suspicious. He’s a cripple now without his legs. What if he does something bad to you? I’d be worried sick.” Adam bit Sophia’s lips hard and sneered, “He’s lucky the avalanche didn’t kill him.” I gripped the bedsheet tightly. In that second, the pain of being buried by ice and snow magnified a thousandfold and washed over me. Was I really not dreaming? This was all… too unreal. #

Sophia gazed at Adam with deep affection and tenderness. Once upon a time, she had looked at me the same way and said, “Noah, I want to marry you.” At seventeen, I was always cooped up in the dance studio, training. Winning awards time after time, I was the envy of many, but it also brought a lot of criticism. Rumors spread around school that I liked men. The school bullies cornered me in an alley, beating me up and taking compromising photos to post on the school forum. No one dared to approach me, except for Sophia. She had grown up an orphan, fortunately raised by my mother. Facing the bullies’ abuse, she shielded me behind her back, “I’ve already told the teacher. You’d better run away quickly!” The street corner was dark, but I could clearly see her bright eyes. “Noah, don’t be afraid. I’ll always be by your side.” At seventeen, Sophia confessed her love to me. Eight years later, she was straddling another man, begging for his affection, wishing I were dead. The pain seeped into my bones, and I couldn’t help but curl up. Adam suddenly glanced at me, “Is Noah awake?” Sophia, dissatisfied with his sudden stop, coquettishly initiated another kiss, “So what if he’s awake? He’s lost his legs. It’s not like he can jump up and kick your knees.” Sharp sarcasm, passionate gasps. Every word and sound hammered into my heart. I had lost my legs, unable to escape, forced to watch them indulge in their affair, powerless. I closed my eyes in anguish, tears silently flowing all night. The procedures for returning home were quickly arranged, and Sophia supported me as we boarded the plane. She struggled to hold my arm, and passersby looked on with pity. Those glances were sympathetic when they fell on her, but mocking when they landed on me. How could such a cripple deserve Sophia’s devotion? Adam stepped forward, “Let me carry him. Consider it my atonement.” Sophia gave him a grateful smile, and I was forced to climb onto Adam’s shoulders. The familiar floral scent lingered on his white shirt – it was Sophia’s favorite perfume. The last shred of love dissipated in this foreign land. After boarding, Sophia covered me with a blanket. I turned to look at her, expressionless. I gazed at the face that had once fiercely protected me, the face I had embraced countless nights. But when I closed my eyes, all I could see were images of her passionately kissing Adam. It made me incredibly sick. “Sophia, why don’t we separate? I’ll only hold you back like this.” Sophia froze, tears suddenly flooding her eyes, “Noah, I’d rather die than hear you say such things!” I had given her a chance for a dignified separation, but she still chose to deceive me. I smiled and slowly shook my head, “Forget it. I was just joking.” During the eighteen-hour long-haul flight, everyone in the team fell asleep. I looked at Sophia’s peaceful sleeping face and, on a whim, took her phone. The password was still our anniversary date, but her phone had a dual system installed. I had known about this for a long time; Sophia had told me it was for work convenience, and I hadn’t thought much of it. Until now, when I opened the other desktop, I saw intimate selfies of her and Adam. Their dating records occupied the photo album. When I was performing on stage, they were having candlelit dinners; When I was giving an award acceptance speech thanking her for her support, she and Adam had flown to Sanya for a vacation… Even on the day I fell from the rising platform, she was by Adam’s side as he battled a fever. Only I, foolishly, was trapped in this love snare. It was truly laughable. #

In just half a month, everything had changed. Returning to the marital home Sophia and I shared, I was surrounded by memories of past happiness and sweetness, now all tinged with mockery. Two years ago, I had gained internet fame through a dance competition show, but with my ordinary looks, I hadn’t attracted much attention. Every day, apart from dancing in competitions, I would guest star in various productions. News of my amputation was leaked online by someone, immediately drawing a wave of sympathy. [So tragic, I still remember his performance of “Endless Longing” – it was otherworldly!] [Don’t be too sad, little brother… We’ll continue to support you.] The trending topic, which should have been quickly forgotten, was pushed further by someone behind the scenes. Using the hook of a talented dancer’s fall from grace, they directed traffic towards the recently shot commercial. With trembling fingers, I clicked on the video. The raging ice and snow engulfed me like a ravenous beast. The pain of that moment made my whole body shake. Sophia snatched my phone away, “This is too much! I’m going to confront him about this!” She stormed into the bedroom with an indignant face, “What Adam’s doing is nothing but profiting from someone else’s misfortune!” I desperately held back the nausea rising inside me and quietly maneuvered my wheelchair to the doorway. Sophia was coyly chatting with Adam, “Are you home yet? Ugh, that cripple can’t leave my side. I finally found a chance to call you.” Adam laughed and asked, “Does that cripple have any more misfortunes? Tell me quickly so I can post it online for more attention.” Sophia gleefully shared the darkest moments of my past suffering. “He was apparently assaulted by school bullies before. I saw his pants being pulled down outside, and they took so many private photos. The picture of him tied up with ribbons went viral on our school forum. It was hilarious.” “If it weren’t for his mom leaving all her inheritance to him, would I need to stick by his side?” I forced myself to stay calm, but my fingertips gripping the wheelchair had turned white. They talked on the phone for half an hour. I waited silently by the window. Sophia put on her fake expression again and came over to hold my hand, “That Adam is too much. I told him to take down the trending topic, but he refused.” I looked into her eyes and smiled bitterly, “But you two seemed to be having a good time chatting.” Sophia’s face instantly turned wooden, “You eavesdropped on our conversation?!” In the ten years we’d been together, I had never lied to her, and this time was no exception. Sophia, however, showed no nervousness. Instead, she laughed lightly. “This is good too. You would have found out sooner or later.” She gently caressed my cheek, her eyes filled with both love and hatred, “But Noah, you can only stay by my side for the rest of your life.” She lifted the blanket covering my body, looking scornfully at my disability. “Besides me, who else would be willing to waste their time on a cripple like you!” The woman before me seemed to have split into two faces. Each face was a stranger to me. #

Adam collected the tragic stories about me from high school and posted them online under the guise of a “high school classmate.” The hashtag #TalentedDancerBulliedInHighSchool stayed on the trending list for two whole days, and meanwhile, my Weibo followers increased by a million. Do people only get attention when they’re pitiful enough? These days, Sophia received many invitations from brands. She eagerly accepted them all, taking me to countless company meetings. “Can you show the injury? It would be more eye-catching that way.” “Mr. Lin, please try to look more in pain.” After experiencing the amputation of both legs and the betrayal of my love, my emotions had already become numb. After finishing a commercial shoot, Sophia went to collect the payment, excited. The photographer from earlier came over and asked me, “Were you really assaulted by a man?” He stared at my lower body with a lecherous gaze. I quickly moved my wheelchair away, but he reached out and followed closely, “Why are you running? Now, with just one word from me, your wife would be more than happy to send you to my bed!” I knew artists could be eccentric, but I didn’t expect him to be so blatant. “Don’t touch me, get away!” The photographer’s expression turned vicious as he grabbed my collar and threw me to the ground, “You crippled freak, I’m doing you a favor by taking an interest in you!” I crawled on the ground like an insect at his feet. Without my legs, I had no right to stand up. He left, cursing. I struggled to support myself on the floor, trying to get up. At that moment, a pair of long legs came into view. Adam looked down at me from above, “If I were you, I would have jumped off a building long ago.” I ignored him, finally managing to reach for my wheelchair to stand up. Adam suddenly kicked the wheelchair hard. “Sorry, my foot slipped.” Without support, I fell heavily to the ground again. I had no strength left and could only lie there. At that moment, I wished I had died in that avalanche. Sophia returned happily with the payment, and seeing my pitiful state, she gently helped me back into the wheelchair. She carefully adjusted my collar, “Oh my, I was only gone for a few minutes!” Passersby praised her for her attentiveness. But when no one was around, Sophia’s smile turned vicious and poisonous. “Adam, if you hurt him, what are we going to use to make money?” A wave of nausea rose in my throat, and I couldn’t help but retch. Sophia put me in the car and then wrapped her arms around Adam’s, ready for their date. Watching their retreating figures, my desire for death suddenly vanished. Enjoying yourselves with the money I earned? If I were gone, what would you do? I calmly took out my phone and called my lawyer friend, “Mr. Johnson, I need a certificate for the assets of the studio, and a notarization of my mother’s inheritance. Please help me handle this.” As my fame grew, I didn’t sign with a management company but hired a few people to run a small studio. Sophia was a nominal employee. Once the assets were certified, she wouldn’t get a penny. I took the opportunity to overhaul the studio staff, firing Sophia’s confidants. She hadn’t heard the news yet, probably busy enjoying herself with Adam. Soon, Mr. Johnson had the paperwork ready. When I maneuvered my wheelchair into the office, Sophia was sitting disheveled on the desk. Adam lifted his face from her chest and gave me a challenging smile, “Oh, here comes our cash cow.” Sophia asked what I was doing here. I silently took out the agreement, “Sign it.” She hooked her arms around Adam’s neck and planted a kiss, “Look how eager he is, can’t wait to marry me.” Indeed, six months ago, Noah couldn’t wait to marry her and bring her home. But now, things had come to this point. The deep love was a lie. Better to make a clean break and part ways amicably. Sophia picked up the agreement and flipped it open to read. Then she looked up in disbelief, “What do you mean by this?!” “Let’s separate, Sophia.” “I’ll give you a portion of the assets from these years. Let’s not see each other again in the future.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295694”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #重生Reborn

On Valentine’s Day, a day known as the Valentine’s Day, I made a special effort to rush home from another city to surprise my wife. When I arrived with 999 roses and her favorite stuffed bear, I opened the door to a shocking scene: my wife was asking her male “best friend” for a kiss while hugging him. She didn’t even flinch at my presence; instead, she calmly threatened to call the police if I dared to hit anyone. Her so-called friend had the audacity to say I was interrupting their private time. I snapped a photo as evidence. Love, it turns out, is fleeting; only interests last forever. When I walked in and saw Adeline kissing and embracing another man, I was paralyzed with shock. I couldn’t process what I was seeing, and the gifts I had brought slipped from my hands to the floor. The commotion snapped them out of their moment, and they turned to face me. Adeline looked displeased. “Why are you back? You didn’t mention you’d be coming. What if you scared us?” The man beside her mocked me with a dismissive gesture. “Checking in on us, are you? A grown man who can’t handle such things—how small-minded.” Rage clenched my fists, and I felt an urge to retaliate. “What are you doing?” Adeline stepped in front of him, frowning. “Assault is illegal! If you try anything, I’ll call the police!” “I was just playing a game with Lachlan, can’t you stop being so petty?” What sort of game involves kissing? Does she take me for a fool? Seeing my expression, she suddenly changed her tone. “Believe it or not, if you can’t deal with this, let’s just divorce!” Almost every argument ended with her bringing up divorce. Fine, this time I’ll give her what she wants. “Fine, divorce!” She seemed taken aback, not expecting me to agree so easily. Our daughter emerged from her room, saw the three of us there, and immediately stood by Lachlan’s side. In her innocent voice, she asked, “Uncle Lachlan, are you okay? Did Dad do something to you?” Lachlan glanced at me, feigning fear, and quickly shook his head. “No, no, I just stumbled. Your dad didn’t hit me.” When my daughter thought I had hurt her beloved Uncle Lachlan, she went wild, trying to push me away. “You’re mean! I don’t want you as my dad; I want Uncle Lachlan!” She couldn’t physically move me, but her words struck me deeply. Since she was born, I’ve been there for her, doting on her like a little princess. I cherished her so much, yet now she wants someone else to be her dad. I suddenly felt a strange calm. Adeline and Lachlan had asked for a divorce countless times. My daughter favored Lachlan because I set limits on her snacks. Each time, I begged them to come back, being nothing more than a humble admirer in their eyes. Adeline spoke in a casual tone, as if confident I would never leave. “Alright, daughter, your dad didn’t mean it. Tell him to make dinner.” The three of them snuggled together like a family. My daughter glanced at me with disdain. “Hurry up and cook. I’m hungry.” For the first time, I ignored her and threw the carefully selected gifts and roses into the trash. I took a photo of their cozy scene with my phone.

I work tirelessly away from home for the sake of this family, hoping to reunite with them sooner. Yet they spend my money and live with another man, showing no regard for my feelings. If that’s how it is, there’s no point in continuing this charade. I contacted a lawyer to discuss divorce proceedings. I definitely don’t want custody; my daughter wouldn’t choose me anyway. After the call, I lay on the couch, unable to sleep. I opened Lachlan’s Snapchat and scrolled through. He had just posted a new photo: he, Adeline, and our daughter, looking like a blissful family. The caption read: “Two beauties spending Valentine’s Day with me, I’m thrilled.” Their smiles pierced my heart. In all these years of marriage, they never took a photo with me. Whenever I asked, she claimed not to like pictures. It turns out, she just didn’t want to take them with me. Lachlan sent me a photo of him and Adeline in pajamas on my bed, full of mockery. I saved the image quietly. If he wants a woman with a tarnished past, he can have her. No matter how indifferent I act, it still hurts. How did Adeline and I reach this point? Three years ago, I chose to work in another city for a better salary. She supported me, saying she’d take care of our daughter. But gradually, she changed, complaining that I couldn’t provide her with the security she desired. She stopped sharing her daily life, and our conversations dwindled until there was nothing left to say. Our calls went from daily to weekly, then bi-monthly, each ending in an argument. But what could I do? I was buried under car loans, mortgages, and various expenses. She only knew how to ask for money, blind to the pressure I was under. My phone beeped with a message from her. She behaved as if nothing had happened and asked for money. “Rosalie needs tutoring, transfer me $1,000.” I forced myself to transfer the funds. Soon after, she messaged again, “Transfer another $2,000; I’m out of makeup.” I tossed my phone aside, refusing to respond. Drink after drink, the taste wasn’t as good as expected. I used to fear her disdain, never allowing myself to indulge. But now, the freedom to get drunk felt liberating—it let me forget my troubles, even if just for a while. The next morning, a delivery call woke me. It was our custom wedding photos. I touched the happy couple’s faces in the photo, feeling like it was from another lifetime. When we married, we had no money. She suggested skipping the wedding and photos, opting for a destination wedding instead.

That day, I cried tears of joy, grateful to have such a gentle, considerate woman. I silently vowed to give her a grand wedding once I could afford it. Two months ago, I found an excuse to take her for wedding photos, secretly planning the wedding. I intended to surprise her on the wedding day, but now it’s unnecessary. The lawyer prepared the divorce agreement, and I forwarded it to Adeline. Her call came quickly, demanding, “What do you mean? Are you really divorcing me?” I answered calmly, “Yes, I am.” My cold attitude seemed to scare her. She explained, “Don’t misunderstand. Lachlan and I were just playing around.” I stayed silent as Lachlan’s voice came through. “Oh, he can’t be serious, can he? Adeline and I are just friends. He can’t even take a joke.” “He’s always controlling you, giving you no freedom,” Adeline’s voice turned cold. “I tell you, Declan, I have the freedom to make friends. You can’t control me!” I simply replied, “Alright, if the divorce agreement looks good, just sign it.” She paused before saying, “Fine, let’s divorce. Don’t regret it!” Then she hung up. A few days later, Adeline came looking for me, ringing the doorbell continuously. I opened the door to her unhappy face. “Why did you change the lock? If you weren’t here, I’d have to wait all day!” I ignored her complaints, calmly asking, “Did you sign the divorce agreement?” She pulled out a document from her bag, coldly saying, “I want custody of our daughter. You’ll pay child support monthly.” I carefully reviewed each clause and signed my name once I confirmed everything was correct. She watched my actions and sarcastically said, “Afraid I’ll trick you? As a man, can’t you have some decency? I don’t get why I liked trash like you.” She yanked the divorce papers from my hand and stormed out. City Hall was efficient; it took less than half an hour to complete the process. After the thirty-day cooling-off period, we’d be officially divorced. As she drove away with Lachlan, her car left only exhaust in its wake. A few days later, Adeline called again. “My dad’s birthday is coming up. They want you to come. Come back for a visit.” Adeline’s parents always treated me like a son, never looking down on me for being poor. After thinking it over, I decided to visit them. On the way, she messaged, warning me not to mention the divorce to her parents. They treated me well, and I didn’t want to upset them. As soon as I entered, Adeline’s mom warmly pulled me inside, smiling at me. A few days after the call from Adeline, I received an unexpected message from her. “My dad’s birthday is coming up soon, and they would love for you to visit. Can you make it?” Adeline’s parents have always treated me like a son, never looking down on me despite my financial struggles. After giving it a lot of thought, I decided to make the trip. While on the way, Adeline texted me, cautioning me not to mention our divorce to her mother, as she hadn’t disclosed it yet. I simply responded with “okay.” They have always been kind to me, and I didn’t want to cause them any distress. As soon as I arrived, Adeline’s mother warmly welcomed me, pulling me inside with a beaming smile. “Alex, you look like you’ve lost weight. What have you been up to? Come and eat something nice.” I quickly obliged, greeting all the relatives and helping to set the table. My daughter, Rosalie, was thoroughly enjoying herself playing with Lachlan, completely ignoring me. I glanced over at them. Adeline, somewhat uneasy, explained, “Rosalie insisted on playing with Lachlan, so I brought him along. Please, just go along with it.” I nodded, feigning indifference, though it pained me inside. It’s hard for any parent to see their child growing close to someone else. At the dinner table, the adults were engaged in lively conversation, while Rosalie clung to Lachlan. She didn’t even look at me, her biological father. Adeline’s mother noticed and couldn’t refrain from saying, “Rosalie, come sit with your dad. He’s finally here; you should spend some time with him.” Rosalie shot me a glance and turned away irritably. “He’s not my dad. My dad’s right here,” she declared, happily clutching Lachlan’s arm. Adeline’s mother gave me an awkward smile and gently tried to pull her up. “What are you saying? Lachlan isn’t your dad. That’s your dad.” Rosalie resisted, loudly crying, “He divorced my mom. He’s not my dad anymore!” The table fell silent, the atmosphere unbearably tense. Adeline hurriedly went over to calm her daughter, awkwardly laughing it off. “She’s just a kid, saying things she doesn’t understand. Please don’t mind her.” Rosalie protested, “I’m not lying; I saw them divorce.” I stood up, bowing to Adeline’s parents with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Mom. Rosalie’s not wrong. Adeline and I are indeed divorced.” “I’m sorry to bring this up today. I didn’t mean to dampen the mood.” Our families have been closely connected, always happily supporting our little family. Now, hearing about our divorce, Adeline’s mom was visibly upset, clutching her chest. “How could you suddenly be divorced? Rosalie is so young. What will happen to her?” Adeline’s dad frowned, clearly displeased. “I don’t agree with your divorce.” Rosalie broke away from Adeline’s grasp and ran to Lachlan’s side. “Grandma, don’t worry about me. Uncle Lachlan will soon be my dad! Look, I have proof.” She grabbed Adeline’s tablet, opened the photo album, and confidently showed us a picture. “Uncle Lachlan and my mom are together. They’ll get married and have a baby soon.” “Once they’re married, Uncle Lachlan will be my dad! No one can stop me from watching TV and eating snacks anymore.” The photo clearly spoke for itself. Rosalie spoke with innocent excitement, unaware of the adults’ discomfort. Adeline’s face turned pale. She snatched the tablet, deleted the photo, and scolded Rosalie. “When did you take my stuff? You shouldn’t look through my album without permission!” Frightened, Rosalie hid behind Lachlan, speechless. Lachlan remained expressionless, softly comforting Rosalie and saying to Adeline, “Alright, stop scolding her. She’s young and doesn’t understand. It wasn’t intentional.” Adeline could only glare at Rosalie, anxiously trying to grab my hand to explain. “Asher, please don’t misunderstand. I was drunk that day and mistook him for you…” “Believe me, I never betrayed you. You’re the only one I love.” I avoided her hand, speaking calmly. “You don’t need to explain. We’re divorced. You’re free to be with whoever you want.” In her panic, she revealed her true feelings. “I never intended to divorce you. I just wanted to scare you into caring more about me.” “Isn’t there a thirty-day cooling-off period? We’re not officially divorced yet.” I remained silent, just looked at her coldly. She suddenly broke down, yelling at me. “Why didn’t you come to comfort me! You always did when I was angry. Why are you divorcing me now?” “If you hadn’t divorced me, I wouldn’t have drunk, and nothing would’ve happened.” “This is all your fault! You have to take responsibility. You can’t treat me like this.” Finally, someone spoke up, unable to hold back any longer. “Even though I’m your relative, I can’t side with you on this. Blaming others for your own mistakes? You’re not money; not everyone has to adore you.” “You have a child but act like a spoiled girl. Divorce is the right choice.” “And you, not even acknowledging your real dad and treating a stranger like treasure? You’re an ungrateful brat. You’ll regret it when you grow up.” The mother and daughter were left humiliated. Adeline’s mom sighed, making a strong statement. “After doing something so disgraceful, don’t come back once you leave this house. I’ll pretend I never had you as a daughter. From now on, Asher is my only child.” Her words hit hard. Adeline’s face changed, her legs giving out as she collapsed, crying without tears. Since graduation, she never worked and relied on her family for support. After marriage, I supported her, and she never faced any hardships. I wouldn’t give her money anymore, and if her mom truly cut ties, what would she do?

Realizing this, she quickly shook off Lachlan’s hand, yelling at him. “You caused all this! If not for you, I wouldn’t be in this mess. Get out! Don’t show up ever again.” She crawled to hug Adeline’s mom’s legs, crying and begging. “Mom, I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad. Don’t abandon me.” Lachlan couldn’t believe Adeline would treat him this way. For years, he obeyed her every wish, only to end up like this. “What did you say? Weren’t you the one who said Asher was treating you badly and asked me to help? Now you’re burning bridges?” Adeline angrily retorted, “I was just talking! Who told you to take it seriously? This is a family matter; you have no right to speak. Get out!” Her daughter, scared, retreated to Adeline’s mom, pleading, “Grandma, don’t leave us. I don’t want Uncle Lachlan to be my dad anymore.” Adeline’s mom, disgusted, gave him a look and ordered him out. “Leave now. Knowing someone has a family and still getting involved? Shame on you.” She looked at me, wanting to say something but holding back. I knew what she wanted to say and nodded gently. “I’m okay. Please don’t hold any grudge against them because of me.” Adeline’s mom sighed in relief, then hesitantly asked, “Is there really no chance for Adeline? Maybe she truly regrets it.” I firmly replied, “No, we can’t go back.” Leaving Adeline’s house, I slowly walked down the street alone when Lachlan caught up from behind. “Don’t get cocky. Adeline will be mine eventually. She’s just mad at me for now.” I looked at him, puzzled. I was already divorced from Adeline; what’s there to be smug about? He glared at me with malice. “Don’t think being accepted by Adeline’s family is enough. Rosalie likes me the most. As long as I ask, she’ll listen to me. If I get her to speak well of me to her grandparents, where does that leave you?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “295693”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster #现实主义Realistic #魔幻Magic #重生Reborn