Author: Momo Chan

The day I moved out, I sent Robertson a voice message. “Let’s break up.” A second later, he replied with one word: “Okay.” My best friend Catherine sat across from me, her jaw practically hitting the floor. “You two were about to get married. Breaking up is that simple?” I took a sip of coffee, bitterness spreading through my mouth. “Because he didn’t even listen to my voice message.” No matter what message I sent him, he only ever replied with “okay.” It actually didn’t bother me at first. I’d gotten used to it. Until I discovered that when other women sent him voice messages, he’d smile and patiently listen to every word. When I saw that 60-second voice message marked as “read” on Robertson’s phone, he was still asleep. The light from the phone screen hit my face, and tears just streamed down. I knew Robertson found it troublesome. He didn’t like chatting. He didn’t like listening to voice messages. Over the years, I’d learned to accept it. But that fully-listened-to 60-second voice message carved a wound straight through my heart. Thiago. His high school classmate. His gaming partner. They chatted about games every day, mixed with everyday conversation. Their chat history took up twice as much storage as mine. Love becomes heavy through difference. Robertson’s character seemed to have crumbled too. “Baby… come here.” Perhaps my crying was too loud. Robertson stirred awake, half-conscious. His arm reached out and pulled me tightly into his embrace. His warm arms carried Robertson’s unique scent, and my tears broke through the dam. He loved me too, didn’t he? He still wanted to hold me while sleeping… In that moment, I wanted so badly to wake him up and confront him. To have a huge fight. But I was truly exhausted. Robertson and I were pressed close together, yet I felt he was so far away. This bed was too wide. I lay on my side like that all night, letting the tears fall silently. I thought Robertson and I had reached the end. The next day I started looking at apartments. After half a month of searching, I settled on a two-bedroom. During all this time, Robertson didn’t notice a thing. Even today when he left, I answered a call from the moving company and he didn’t pay attention. After eating with Catherine and saying goodbye, I returned to the apartment Robertson and I shared. This apartment was bought by Robertson’s parents as our wedding home. Although we weren’t married yet, to save money, Robertson and I had moved in early. I didn’t actually need to come back. After all, this home barely had anything of mine left in it. But I wanted to see how long it would take a forensic scientist—someone who survived by detecting the smallest clues—to notice his future wife had moved out. I’d just sat down when the door behind me opened. “Home early today?” Robertson bent down to change his shoes, greeting me naturally, no different from any other day. As expected, he hadn’t listened to that voice message. Like an auto-reply bot, he’d just responded with “okay.” I opened my mouth, bitterness filling it, hard to swallow. “Why didn’t you make dinner?” Robertson glanced at the empty dining table and asked with surprise. Unless there was something unusual or special plans, I basically cooked for him every day. I didn’t answer. Robertson put down his bag and went into the bathroom.

Through the door, I could hear Robertson typing on his phone. And some audio leaking out. No need to guess—he was chatting with Thiago. I’d actually made a scene about this once before. Robertson didn’t take it seriously. He thought I was making a big deal out of nothing. “I’m with you every day. Why would I need to chat online? If it’s urgent, you can call. If it’s not urgent, you can tell me when I get home.” “Thiago is different. We don’t see each other every day, so of course we chat!” I rubbed my temples and walked into the bedroom. When I came back out, Robertson had already ordered takeout and was eating. Only one portion. Nothing for me. I couldn’t help but laugh, my voice trembling as I asked him, “Why did you only order one?” “Huh? Did you want some?” “I thought you were dieting to fit into your wedding dress!” When he said this, Robertson didn’t even look up at me. If he’d just looked up, he would have seen my tears. But he didn’t. “Robertson, let’s talk.” I took a deep breath. The instant I pulled out a chair to sit down, he stood up. “No time. Thiago and I are scheduled to play games.” The takeout container left on the table for me to clean up. The pulled-out chair. The man walking away. In that moment, I felt all the pressure in the house rushing toward me. My chest felt like it was covered with a plastic bag. Even breathing became difficult. In the study, they’d already connected their mics. “Robertson, interested in the new movie? I’ve been looking forward to that film for so long.” “I knew you’d say that. I already bought tickets. I’ll take you tomorrow.” “You’re so thoughtful!” “I just heard a coworker mention it today and immediately ordered them to surprise you.” Robertson’s thoughtless replies echoed in my ears, word by word. For Thiago, he always had time, always had heart. For me, he only had one line: “She’s a friend, you’re my wife. Can they be the same?” Robertson, if being your wife is this exhausting, I’d rather be your friend. With a bang, I kicked open the study door. Robertson spun around sharply, instinctively covering the microphone. He frowned, looking at me in confusion. “Tomorrow we’re scheduled to try on wedding dresses. Did you forget?” Sharp edges leaked through my tone. Robertson seemed to sense my mood and looked troubled. “I made plans with Thiago to see a movie tomorrow. I already bought the tickets.” “How about you go try on the dress yourself? I wouldn’t be much help anyway. Or maybe ask Catherine to go with you?” In one second, he’d figured out a compensation plan and an excuse. Accompanying his wife to try on wedding dresses wasn’t important. Accompanying his female classmate to the movies was. “No.” I refused flatly. Robertson glanced at the game on his computer screen. Thiago’s urging voice came through the headset. He was getting anxious. “Dixon, can’t I have my own things, my own plans?” “Do I have to revolve around you once we’re married?” These words almost made me laugh. When had he ever revolved around me? No messages during work hours. After work, diving straight into games. He hadn’t participated in a single wedding preparation. We still hadn’t picked out rings together… His world was full. As for who he revolved around—who knew. I looked at him with disappointment. “Robertson, is marriage just my responsibility?” Exhaustion colored my words.

“You’re being unreasonable.” After saying this, Robertson put on his headset and started the game without looking back. “Women are such a hassle.” “Thiago, when you get married, definitely don’t be this much trouble.” A casual complaint that drew bell-like laughter from the other end of the headset. Robertson and I started dating freshman year of college. At first, Robertson was attentive to me. He’d walk with me, take me to movies. He just really didn’t like chatting. But when we met in person, he was always considerate. “I don’t like chatting. Typing is a hassle. Listening to voice messages is a hassle too.” “I’m like that with everyone.” I accepted Robertson’s personality. Back then I told myself, that’s just how he is. Later, when we were together, he introduced me to Thiago and often brought me to play games with them. But I didn’t have the talent for it. After playing for a while, I dropped out. I shouldn’t have seen the dense chat history between Robertson and Thiago. Or Robertson’s comments on every single one of Thiago’s Twitter posts. He’d even message Thiago when he couldn’t sleep late at night, but he never reached out to me. That feeling was like swallowing a needle. That night, Robertson didn’t come back to the bedroom. He pulled an all-nighter gaming. The next morning I left Robertson a note: “Meet me at the bridal shop.” “I have something to discuss with you.” He could ignore WhatsApp. He could leave voice messages unread. But a note—surely he wouldn’t miss that. But I’d forgotten that some people aren’t blind in their eyes, but in their hearts. I sat on the sofa watching couple after couple come and go while my cup of hot water was refilled again and again. Until the staff came over apologetically. “Miss Dixon, we’re getting ready to close…” Their hesitant discomfort was a kind of sympathy for me. I walked home in stops and starts. On the way, I checked Thiago’s Twitter countless times. “Yay, mission accomplished!” The photo showed a movie theater screen. The hand making a peace sign in the lower left corner was Robertson’s. If moving out was my test for Robertson, then this time I truly needed to give up. At the corner downstairs, I saw familiar figures at the BBQ restaurant Robertson and I frequented. His back was to me. Thiago sat across from him, gesticulating animatedly. Until Thiago saw me. Robertson turned around. In the noisy restaurant, an indescribable atmosphere spread among the three of us. “Dixon,” Thiago pulled out a chair, letting me sit beside her. “How did the dress fitting go today?” Thiago was making conversation, trying to ease the awkwardness. Robertson’s hand holding the fork trembled slightly. Before I could speak, Robertson did. “Waiter, a mango ice cream.” I knew Robertson felt guilty. He was trying to apologize to me this way. It was hot. The ice cream was starting to melt when it arrived. “Eat it quick before it melts.” I glanced at it but didn’t move. Robertson frowned. “Don’t you love mango ice cream?” Thiago laughed. “Silly, I’m the one who loves mango ice cream!” Robertson scratched the back of his head sheepishly, looking at me apologetically. “Sorry, I got confused…” I knew he hadn’t gotten confused. He’d never remembered my preferences in the first place. Because when we were together, I always ordered. He never had to think about it. Robertson not only didn’t remember my preferences—he’d forgotten. I’m allergic to mangoes. I lowered my head and scooped up a spoonful of the ice cream.

Spoonful after spoonful, I ate the entire bowl of mango ice cream right in front of Robertson. That night, my whole body burned up and broke out in a rash. When I got up to find allergy medicine, the living room light turned on. I thought Robertson had remembered. Instead, he just walked past me into the bathroom. “Middle of the night. What are you looking for?” A bland question, spoken nasally. He didn’t even glance at me before returning to the bedroom. As for an answer, he didn’t care. Looking at the allergy medicine in my hand, I collapsed on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. In that moment, my love died completely. That night, I sent WhatsApp messages canceling all wedding-related arrangements. The next day, I was woken by Robertson’s voice. “Why did you sleep on the sofa?” “What happened to you? All these red spots?” Robertson crouched by the sofa, his eyes full of concern. After all these days, it felt like the first time we’d made eye contact. That feeling was strange yet familiar. “Damn it! I forgot—you’re allergic to mangoes!” Robertson’s guilt came out of nowhere. He called in sick and took me to the hospital. The entire time, he played the part of an extremely attentive fiancé. “Your husband treats you so well.” The nurse setting up my IV sneaked a glance at Robertson getting medicine and teased me. But watching Robertson bustle around, my heart was as calm as stagnant water. Well? If he treated me well, I wouldn’t be having an allergic reaction. I forced a smile. Three hours of IV drip. Robertson stayed with me, didn’t even touch his phone once. It rang a few times, but he didn’t look. Actually, I knew it was probably because of his work. Robertson really wouldn’t chat during work hours. He and Thiago only started messaging on weekends after work. On the drive home after the IV, Robertson seemed to remember something. “Yesterday you said you had something to discuss with me. What was it?” My hand pulling the seatbelt paused. So he knew all along. He remembered. I shook my head and fastened my seatbelt. “Nothing.” Nothing left to discuss. Robertson kept talking on the way, trying to cheer me up, but I couldn’t seem to hear a single word. “Want me to make you hot milk when we get back?” Robertson talked as he walked out of the elevator. A few steps later, he stopped. Through him, I saw Thiago crouched at our front door. “I’m so sorry, Thiago. I forgot we planned to play games today.” Thiago stood up looking wronged, rubbing her numb legs. “You didn’t even reply to my WhatsApp. So annoying.” “Are we still playing or not?” Robertson looked troubled and turned to look at me. I ignored him and walked straight past them to open the door. Robertson followed hesitantly, negotiating with me in a low voice. “Let me make you hot milk first. After you drink it, rest well. Thiago and I will play games in the study. We definitely won’t disturb you.” Thiago had followed inside too. I looked up. “Do whatever you want.” Robertson could probably tell my mood was off, and ultimately chose not to play games. He knocked lightly on the bedroom door. “I’ll take Thiago home first.” Hearing the front door close, I walked out of the room. The glass of milk on the dining table was still steaming. I sat at the table watching the time pass—one hour, two hours. Robertson never came back. Until dusk fell, the door remained still. I knew Robertson wouldn’t come back.

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The day before my period, I saw a note in my fiancé’s memo. 【Predict tomorrow is her period, remember to prepare pads and painkillers in the bag.】 I smiled sweetly, touched by my fiancé’s thoughtfulness. Until the next day, when my lower abdomen cramped with pain, I went through my bag with a pale face, but there was nothing inside. Dark red blood had soaked through my pants. Students pointed at my back and laughed. I thought he had simply forgotten. But the new intern teacher had just posted on her social media: 【Just started work and met Mr. Nice mentoring me! He even prepared pads and painkillers for me. This period doesn’t hurt at all.】 The accompanying photo showed ibuprofen and a pad. The medicine was the brand I’d kept at home for years because of my cramps. The pad was the only brand I could use without an allergic reaction. I turned off my phone and stared at the ring on my middle finger for a long while, then got up and went to the principal’s office to apply for the international teacher exchange program. Seven years, and he’d never remembered my cycle. There was no need for him to remember it anymore.

I submitted my application just as the dismissal bell rang. The principal looked at me with some hesitation, but finally couldn’t hold back. “Miss Jennifer, you and Mr. Luke are having your wedding next month. Just two days ago you were still designing invitations. Now why…” I knew the rest of her unspoken sentence. The exchange program abroad required a minimum of three years before returning. How could newlyweds possibly endure such a long separation? Moreover, everyone at school knew that I had chased after Luke for four years, dated him for three more, and was finally about to walk down the aisle. How could I bear to leave him? But the prerequisite for reluctance to part is that both people like each other. Just now, I suddenly understood that the man who agreed to marry me perhaps didn’t like me as much as I’d imagined. I picked at the dried blood in the creases of my fingers—it had gotten on my hands when I was padding myself with thick wads of toilet paper. I said, “He and I just aren’t meant to be.” “Principal, I’m asking you for a favor. Please don’t tell anyone about this, okay?” She frowned, her eyes revealing a trace of pity. “Alright, I’ll keep this confidential for you.” “The earliest group leaving for the exchange program departs tomorrow. If you want, I can arrange for you to go with them.” I nodded and bowed gratefully before leaving the office. My phone rang for the second time. I opened it and glanced—it was a message from Luke. “What’s taking so long? It’s been ten minutes since dismissal and you’re still not down.” Ever since Luke and I moved in together, I had to leave with him every day after work. “Please, Luke, you already have me—it would be too pitiful for you to go home alone at night.” Even though he taught seniors while I taught freshmen, and Luke’s dismissal time was a full two hours later than mine, requiring me to sit in the office for two extra hours, I never found it hard. But today, after he’d only waited ten extra minutes for me, he was already getting impatient. I pressed my lips together and carefully examined my feelings, but I didn’t feel the suffocating pain I’d expected. That’s when I knew I’d completely let go. I sent back a message. “Still have some things to do, you go ahead.” Then I turned off my phone and didn’t look again. I returned to the office to pack up my textbooks, organized the materials and class information that needed to be handed over, and an hour later, I finally stretched my aching shoulders and left the school gate. I took out my phone to call a cab when a horn honked behind me, startling me. I turned around to see Luke’s car stopped behind me. I froze in place until he honked again and stuck his head out. “Get in the car already. Why are you standing there like an idiot?” I snapped back to reality and thought about the large bloodstain on the back of my pants that might dirty his car. I pulled open the passenger door, about to sit down. Luke glanced at me and handed me a black plastic bag, suddenly speaking. “Wait.” I took the bag, momentarily confused about what he meant. “You know your period is coming and you still don’t know to bring a pad? Jennifer, you’re a 28-year-old adult. Can you have some basic self-care skills?” “Walking around school all day with blood all over your ass—so many students asked me if you had a terminal illness. How embarrassing.” Embarrassing? The smell of blood seemed to fill my nose again. Actually, I had remembered to bring pads, but one memo from Luke made me forget. I thought he’d finally learned to keep me in his heart. In the end, the person he truly kept in his heart was someone else.

I opened the plastic bag. Inside lay a pink pad covered in a thick layer of dust—clearly a brand that couldn’t sell, randomly bought from a roadside convenience store. “If you really didn’t have any, you could’ve borrowed one from someone. Why did you have to hole up at school refusing to come out, making me wait for you for a whole hour?” “Hurry up and go change, then get in the car. Don’t get it dirty.” He kept talking on and on. I looked at his beautifully shaped thin lips and only felt utterly exhausted. I closed the plastic bag and said weakly, “Luke, I can’t use this brand.” To be precise, I couldn’t use any mainstream pads on the market because they all had adhesive backing, and I was severely allergic to glue. Even touching it would make my whole body turn red. Much less during my most vulnerable time, sticking something with glue to my most private area. So I only used one specific brand—the only one I could use. Actually, when I first got together with Luke, I’d mentioned this. “Luke, I’m allergic to glue and can only use this one brand of pads. If you see it on sale, remember to stock up for me, okay?” Luke didn’t even look up from his game, scoffing. “So high maintenance.” My fingers froze on my phone screen. I forced out an ugly smile. “Sorry, I’ll stock up myself. This is kind of troublesome, and you don’t really understand…” He always spoke to me like this, occasionally like he was wielding a club, beating down on me without warning, leaving me hurt and at a loss. But aside from this, he was actually pretty good to me. After we moved in together, he did all the housework and cooked well, even fattening me up by five pounds. Whatever I wanted to buy, he wouldn’t stop me. Even when I brought home weird decorations that didn’t match his home’s style at all, he’d just smile helplessly at most. “Childish.” Over time, I thought that was just his personality—he didn’t like remembering other people’s habits and could be pretty cutting sometimes. Moreover, I was the one who pursued Luke first, so I used the occasional sweetness he gave me to dilute the pain, enduring like this for three years. Until I endured all the way to today, when I couldn’t endure anymore. “Why can’t you use it?” He’d asked me this question seventeen times. I’d explained sixteen times. This time, I wasn’t going to explain anymore. I just casually tossed the pad in the trash and said flatly, “If I say I can’t use it, I can’t use it. Since you’re afraid I’ll dirty your car, I’ll just take a cab home.” His frown deepened, but in the end he still opened the car door and stuffed me into the passenger seat. “It’s too late. Would it be safe for you to take a cab? Forget it, just my bad luck. I’ll go wash the car tomorrow.” Again, this mix of good and bad. I gripped the seatbelt in front of me, my throat tight. I simply took out my phone and contacted the wedding photo company we’d booked long ago. 【Hello, I’d like to cancel the wedding photoshoot scheduled for next week. What procedures do I need to follow?】 The contact I’d labeled “Wedding Photoshoot” kept switching between her name and “typing…” over a dozen times before she finally sent a message. 【Miss Jennifer, three days ago you changed your wedding photos to a couple’s birthday art photos, and Mr. Luke contacted us to move up the shoot. The edited photos will be ready tonight.】 【Your husband didn’t tell you?】 My fingertip hovered over the screen. After a long moment, I realized it was shaking badly. I used my other hand to hold my wrist so I wouldn’t drop the phone. I turned to glance at Luke. He looked straight ahead, driving seriously, everything like before. Perhaps sensing my gaze, Luke tilted his head slightly, his tone unfriendly. “Why are you looking at me? Can’t handle being criticized a little?” I didn’t respond. Once my hands steadied again, I slowly typed. “Can I see the photos?” The shop owner went through the typing motion several times again before sending the photos, along with a ten-second video. 【At the time, your husband repeatedly assured us he wouldn’t cause us trouble, so we agreed to the change and early shoot. Miss Jennifer, please don’t make things difficult for us…】 I had no mind to read what else she sent. I opened the photos, and a familiar face appeared in my pupils, stinging my eyes red. The person in the photo was Ivy, the school’s new intern teacher—the same person Luke had given pads and painkillers to. There were many photos. I flipped through them one by one. Luke appeared in every single one. The two wore matching outfits, looking like an intimate couple. Finally, I clicked on the video. Ivy seemed a bit tired from the shoot and pouted in complaint. “My shoulders hurt so much. Luke, help me rub them.” In those short ten seconds of video, I saw another side of Luke—incredibly gentle in a way I couldn’t believe. “Alright, you little princess. Just one more set of photos. Hang in there a bit longer, and I’ll treat you to a big meal after.” Only then did Ivy smile again, happily raising both hands. “Yay!” My eyes felt sore. I reached up to touch them, thinking I’d feel salty tears, but there was nothing. I couldn’t cry over Luke anymore. It just made me remember some things.

After we got engaged, I’d mentioned many times that we should get our wedding photos taken early, or there wouldn’t be time. But Luke refused. “I don’t like taking photos. You know that. Wedding photos are only for looking at—completely useless. Why do you insist on forcing me to do something meaningless?” I bit my lip and said softly, “They are useful, Luke. When we’re old and can’t remember each other’s faces clearly, we can take out our wedding photos to look at. And we can show our future children how happy Mom and Dad were back then.” “I promise, just two settings—one for the wedding reception and one outdoor shot, okay? I definitely won’t tire you out.” He glanced at me and spat out one word. “Dramatic.” Even so, I wouldn’t give up. I kept pestering him for a long time, getting hurt to tears by Luke’s harsh words several times before he finally reluctantly agreed to take wedding photos with me. To get it done in one go, I did tons of research—from outfits to locations to photographers. I often stayed up until two or three in the morning making plans, then forced myself to be energetic for class the next day. Because the wedding date was close, I even paid extra to skip the queue and rush the editing. But the wedding photoshoot I’d carefully selected was secretly given by Luke to someone else. The man who claimed he didn’t like taking photos used all his patience to accompany Ivy through five different settings, making me unable to tell whether he truly didn’t like taking photos or just didn’t like taking them with me. The car shook and stopped in the underground parking garage. I opened Ivy’s social media—sure enough, she’d posted another set of photos, thoughtfully covering Luke’s face. “Ding ding ding, the best birthday gift I received early this year is, of course, beautiful photos. Thanks to a certain someone!” Luke stood outside the car and took out his phone. The next second, his like appeared on Ivy’s post. I looked at that tiny red heart and couldn’t help but laugh. He never actively liked my posts. “We’re home. Why are you still sitting in the car?” Seeing I hadn’t moved, Luke knocked on the car window. I looked at him through the glass and suddenly spoke. “You already went to take photos with Ivy. Why not just take the wedding photos I booked? You two match pretty well anyway.” Luke’s expression stiffened for a moment, then he frowned. “Jennifer, what are you going crazy about?” “You changed my wedding photos and went to take birthday art photos with someone else, and now you’re asking me what I’m going crazy about?” “Luke, you’re the one who’s crazy!” I thought I could hold it in, but in the end I still shouted my grievances. I stared hard at Luke, wanting to hear an answer. He just clicked his tongue impatiently. “Ivy just started working. She has no one to celebrate her birthday with. As her mentor, of course I have a responsibility to take care of her.” “And it’s just wedding photos. If we can’t do it this time, we’ll do it next time. Why such a big reaction?” I looked at his casual expression, and all my anger dissipated. “Forget it.” I said, completing the second half of the sentence in my mind: We won’t need them anyway. Only then did Luke’s expression relax. He replied to another message on his phone. After I got out of the car, he got back in. “Alright, you go back first. Ivy’s birthday is tomorrow. She wants to treat the school teachers to dinner but can’t handle it alone. I’m going over tonight to help her prep.” I blinked. I’d originally wanted to talk to him tonight about canceling the wedding, but now it seemed unnecessary. I nodded and returned alone to our new house. I took out my suitcase, but looking at the room full of traces of my life, I didn’t take anything with me—only the large stock of pads and painkillers I’d accumulated. Then I called to cancel the wedding banquet hotel. The deposit was non-refundable. The money Luke had given me was all stored on one card, which I placed on the nightstand, not a cent missing. Finally, I took off the engagement ring and placed it on top of the card. Then I dragged my not-too-heavy suitcase and got in a car to the airport. Just before takeoff, I sent Luke a message. “Luke, let’s just forget about getting married. I’ve explained things to both our parents. Finally, I wish you find someone you truly like.” The message sent. I put my phone on airplane mode. Leaning back in my seat, I fell into a deep sleep. When I opened my eyes again, I’d arrived at my destination. I turned off airplane mode, and instantly hundreds of missed calls flooded in.

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To give his son a complete family, he found me—a woman who bore a faint, passing resemblance to his unforgettable first love. For three years of our marriage, I was the quiet woman behind the scenes for both father and son. Virtuous, considerate, empathetic, and above all, I maintained an incredibly stable emotional state. One day, I went to pick up his son from school and overheard him telling his classmates that I was just his nanny, and that his real mom was coming back soon. My heart leaped with joy. She’s back? Fantastic. That means I can take my payout and get the hell out of here. It was a Friday, the day Caleb Vance usually picked up his son. This was their weekly father-son bonding time, and Caleb would typically take him to a family-friendly restaurant for dinner. For three years, it had been a routine without fail. But today, Caleb called me last minute, claiming he had an urgent business trip and needed me to pick up Leo. I rushed from the hospital straight to the kindergarten. The classroom was mostly empty, save for three or four kids still waiting for their parents. Leo was surrounded in the center of the room, the other kids staring in awe at the custom-engraved silver locket around his neck. “Wow, Leo, your necklace is so cool!” “Where did you get it? I’m gonna ask my mom to buy me one too.” Leo lifted his chin, looking incredibly proud. “My mom custom-designed this just for me. You can’t buy it anywhere.” “Whoa, your mom is amazing.” “She can bake little bear cookies and design jewelry! I wish she was my mom.” “I want your mom too. She’s so nice, my mom is so strict.” Except for Fridays and extremely rare circumstances, I was always the one who dropped off and picked up Leo. Leo was much more mature than kids his age, and a bit withdrawn. Afraid that he might be isolated at school, I often baked homemade pastries to hand out to his classmates. Because of that, Leo was very popular at school, and everyone naturally assumed I was his mother—even though he had never once called me that. I did bake the bear cookies, but I certainly didn’t know how to design jewelry. I silently pulled back the foot I had just stepped into the classroom with. Sure enough, a second later, Leo’s childish but distinctly disdainful voice rang out: “I’m not talking about her!” “She’s not my mom, she’s just our nanny.” “My real mom is a jewelry designer, and she’s super famous!” The kids let out a collective gasp of awe, crowding around Leo and chattering excitedly, asking all about his amazing mother. Standing by the back door, watching Leo passionately brag about his mother, I didn’t feel much of a stir in my heart. In a way, his words were harsh, but they weren’t exactly wrong. It was just… a bit too blunt. Ever since I got together with Caleb, taking care of him and his son became my only full-time job. Though the work was essentially the same as a live-in nanny, Caleb and I had signed the papers. We were legally married. At the very least, I shouldn’t be called a nanny. I was a stepmother, at worst. Leo was the child of Caleb and a brilliant designer named Ashley. But right after Ashley recovered from childbirth, she vanished without a trace, leaving them without even a legal marriage certificate. As Leo grew older, Caleb began to realize the gap in their family dynamic. So, he started looking for a stepmother to give Leo a complete home. Relying on a face that looked thirty percent like Ashley’s, I stood out among a sea of candidates. From the very first day I stepped into their lives, Leo knew I wasn’t his mother, and I never once tried to replace her. After all, Caleb and I were just a contract couple, bound for three years. For these three years, he got a stand-in wife, Leo got a stepmother, and I got three million dollars. I had no reason to refuse. I was desperate for the money. On the drive back, I pretended I hadn’t heard a thing. I asked Leo how his day was and what he wanted for dinner, just like always. I knew my place. I only took what was mine, and I didn’t care about anything that didn’t concern me. Leo kept a straight face and rattled off a few dishes. I caught him secretly swallowing back saliva, and I had to suppress a smile. If nothing else, my cooking skills were genuinely top-notch. Over the past three years, both the Vance men had filled out quite nicely. Once we got home, Leo immediately locked himself in his room. I didn’t mind. I walked straight into the kitchen and started cooking. When the three dishes and a soup were ready, I went to call him for dinner. Before I could even knock, I heard bright laughter coming from inside. Leo was on a video call. He had it on speaker, so I could hear everything perfectly. I heard Caleb’s voice, and another woman’s voice. She called Leo “baby,” and Leo called her “Mom.” Leo excitedly told her how jealous all his classmates were of his necklace. I had assumed the necklace was just another gift Caleb bought to humor him; things like that had happened before. Even though Ashley had been gone for years, Caleb carefully maintained a connection between her and Leo, all so that if Ashley ever returned, she could seamlessly step back into her son’s life. But now it seemed the necklace really was designed by Ashley. After six years, Caleb had finally found her. Today’s supposed “business trip” was just him rushing off for love. How deeply romantic. I had no intention of interrupting their beautiful family reunion, so I quietly sat back at the dining table and scrolled through my phone. Only after I was sure Leo had hung up did I go back to knock on his door. After dinner, as I was clearing the table, Leo sat in his chair, looking like he wanted to say something but swallowing the words. Leo looked almost exactly like a miniature Caleb—handsome and aristocratic. But Leo’s eyes were much prettier, probably because they were still so pure. They looked a lot like the eyes etched into my memory, though still not quite a match. I leaned against the table and smiled at him. “Is there something you want to tell me, sweetie?” Leo bit his lip, ultimately saying nothing, and scurried back to his room. I didn’t care, nor did I have the energy to pry. My job was strictly to ensure he was well-fed, dressed, and safe. Anything beyond that wasn’t my business, and wasn’t within my control. Later that night, wrapped in a blanket on the living room sofa, I sobbed uncontrollably while watching a sad movie. When Caleb walked through the door, that was exactly the state he found me in—my face completely swollen from crying. He looked shocked. I felt deeply awkward. I quickly stood up, my voice thick with congestion. “Why are you back so suddenly?” He walked over to me, his gaze settling on me with a quiet, gentle weight. Even his voice was much softer than usual. “Why are you up so late?” I pointed at the TV. “Watching a movie.” He stared at me for a moment, let out a soft sigh, and reached out to pat my head. Before I could dodge his hand, his phone rang. The caller ID read: Ashley. He stepped out onto the balcony to take the call. I tactfully retreated to the kitchen, waiting until he hung up before walking back out. “Caleb, let’s go file the divorce papers next week.” Ashley was back, and our contract was expiring soon anyway. I thought Caleb would agree instantly. After all, my usefulness as a stand-in had run its course. But Caleb’s expression instantly turned freezing cold. “You want a divorce that badly?” “I’m busy next week.” With that, he ignored me entirely and walked straight into Leo’s room. I stood there, completely baffled. Caleb and I called ourselves husband and wife, but it was really an employer-employee relationship. He paid me, I did the job. Now that the contract was up and he had successfully found his true love, shouldn’t we quickly terminate the agreement so everyone could be happy? What kind of mood swing was this? Over the weekend, Caleb spent both days working overtime at the office. Leaving early and coming back late, he gave me no chance to bring up the divorce again. On Monday morning, he suddenly shoved a small velvet box into my hand, claiming it was just some trinket he picked up at an auction. I was in a rush to get Leo to school, so I casually tossed it into my purse. As usual, I brought a batch of freshly baked cookies to the kindergarten. The kids swarmed me, sweetly chirping, “Thank you, Chloe!” Leo stared at me quietly for a moment before pushing past the kids and walking into the classroom. After drop-off, I had the driver take me to the hospital. When I reached the room, Mia was standing by the window, doing her morning yoga routine. She smiled brightly when she saw me. “What delicious food did you bring today?” I shook the insulated thermos in my hand. “Your favorite. Chicken and wild rice soup.” We each poured a bowl and sat on the edge of the bed to eat. I pulled out my phone, opened a photo gallery, and handed it to her. “This is our house in Asheville. I already hired someone to deep-clean it.” “When you’re discharged next week, take Noah there first and see if we need to buy any new furniture. As soon as I wrap things up here, I’ll come meet you guys.” Mia looked through the photos, saying nothing, only nodding. Holding my bowl, I turned to look out the window. Through the glass, the sky was a brilliant blue. Fluffy white clouds drifted slowly with the wind, and the willow branches swayed gently. “Chloe, we really dragged you down.” I watched those glowing white clouds and asked out of nowhere, “Mia, do you think Noah will like the yard?” Mia paused for a second before her gaze turned distant and soft. She smiled. “He will. He always loved places with a breeze.” I smiled too. “That’s good.” Mia didn’t say anything else, just let out a soft sigh. We sat together on the edge of the bed, watching the clouds, the trees, and the sun. We watched the people sitting on the hospital benches change from a mother and daughter, to a married couple, and then to a lonely old man. Just like the passing strangers in everyone’s lives, always coming and going in such a rush. I said softly, “Mia, you and Noah never dragged me down.” “Without you and Noah, Chloe wouldn’t even exist in this world.” “We are a family. We have been for ten years.” That afternoon, I went to the grocery store and then headed to pick up Leo, but his teacher told me he had been picked up that morning. She said Leo left with his mom and dad. Sitting back in the car, I thought about it and decided I should probably call Caleb just to be safe. Even though it was highly likely he and Ashley had picked him up, when it came to a child, I couldn’t be too careful. Just as I was about to dial, I noticed a red notification dot on Caleb’s Instagram feed. I clicked on his profile. Posted five minutes ago. It was a 9-photo grid. The center photo was a joyful selfie of a family of three. The background was a sunny beach, and they were all wearing matching outfits. I could tell Leo was genuinely thrilled. It was the first time in three years I had ever seen him smile with such pure, unbridled joy. It was also the first time I’d ever seen Caleb wear such bright colors. Standing next to Ashley, his usual stern aura had melted away, leaving him looking incredibly soft and warm. They were a picture-perfect family. Since Instagram had already confirmed it for me, there was no need to make the call. With Caleb and Leo out of town, I essentially had a mini-vacation. Every day, I cooked, took food to the hospital to eat with Mia, and then we’d take relaxing walks together. It was wonderfully peaceful. Caleb’s call came in the dead of night. I was fast asleep when the ringtone jolted me awake. Caleb’s voice sounded utterly exhausted, mixed with the sound of Leo crying frantically in the background. “Chloe, can you come to the pediatric urgent care right now?” Caleb explained that Leo hadn’t been sleeping well for the past few days, and after playing out in the ocean wind, he had suddenly spiked a massive fever. They were at the clinic now, but Leo was crying hysterically and refusing to let the doctors examine him. I checked the pitch-black sky outside the window, got out of bed, and started packing a bag. Leo had always had terrible sleep quality. When I first moved into the Vance house, he would frequently wake up in the middle of the night screaming in terror. I spent countless nights pacing the floor, holding him and singing lullabies until dawn to get him back to sleep. He had improved significantly over the last two years, but he was still incredibly particular about his bed. If he ever had to sleep away from home, he absolutely needed his specific pillow, his favorite blanket, and his own pajamas, or he wouldn’t sleep a wink. In the past, whenever Leo traveled with his grandparents, I always packed these things in advance. Since I was always the one handling it, Caleb simply had no idea. Even from down the clinic hallway, I could hear Leo’s wails. His voice was completely hoarse. I had assumed Ashley would be there, but to my surprise, it was only Caleb and Leo in the room. Caleb’s face visibly relaxed the second he saw me. “You’re here.” Leo was thrashing on the examination bed, his little face beet-red—whether from the fever or the crying, I couldn’t tell. I had Caleb lift him up while I quickly swapped the scratchy hospital sheets for his blanket and pillow from home, then quickly changed Leo into his own pajamas. I pulled Leo into my arms, lying down sideways next to him and gently patting his back. Slowly, his crying died down. He curled up against my chest, his little fist gripping the edge of my shirt, murmuring “Mom.” I touched his burning cheek. He was completely delirious from the fever. I wasn’t his mom. I was just his nanny. After a bit more soothing, Leo finally fell into a deep, stable sleep. The nurses successfully started an IV, and Caleb and I collapsed onto the small waiting sofa. Caleb handed me a cup of water, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry for waking you up.” I shook my head. “It’s fine. It’s my job.” “Next time you take him out of town, just remember to bring his pillow, pajamas, and blanket.” Caleb looked at me for a long moment before asking, “Did you ever open that little box I gave you?” “Not yet. Was it something important?” I pulled the velvet box out of my purse and clicked it open. Inside sat a stunning diamond ring. Caleb suddenly reached over and covered my hand with his. “Chloe, don’t divorce me. Please.” I had no idea what happened between Caleb and Ashley to make him abandon the woman he had waited six long years for, only to turn around and propose to me. But I knew one thing for certain: it wasn’t because he was madly in love with me. Caleb Vance was a terrifyingly disciplined and pragmatic man. Every decision he made was calculated, the optimal choice after weighing all the pros and cons. But I had no desire to analyze his underlying motives. I never liked wasting energy on things that didn’t matter. I pulled my hand out from under his and placed the ring on the coffee table. “Caleb, we are a contract couple. The contract is over, and so are we.” He sat beside me, acting as if he hadn’t heard a word I said, and continued explaining on his own: “Chloe, if you’re worried about Ashley, you don’t have to be.” “She and I are completely finished. We only went on this trip because she wanted to see Leo. After this, we won’t be in contact anymore.” “Having you by my side these past few years has brought me so much peace, and Leo relies on you completely. Can’t we just keep living our lives together, just like this?” I looked at Caleb, my expression completely flat. “No.” “Whatever is going on with you and Ashley, I don’t know, and I don’t care. But there is no ‘us’.” The only reason I ever agreed to be his contract wife was to afford Mia’s medical treatments. Now that Mia was better, we had our own lives to live. We were going to settle down in a house with a breeze. Caleb clearly hadn’t expected such a blunt rejection. A flash of genuine hurt crossed his eyes. “Chloe… do you really have absolutely no feelings for me?” I offered a small smile. “I do. I feel profound gratitude toward an incredibly generous employer.” I meant that from the bottom of my heart. If it weren’t for the three million dollars he gave me, Mia and I would have been dead a long time ago. Because of that, for three years, I poured my soul into taking care of him and his son. Whatever they needed, whenever they needed it, I was there. But that was where it ended. I thought I had made myself perfectly clear, but Caleb still refused to accept it. “You don’t have to answer me right now. I’m not in a rush.” “It’s late. I’ll have the driver take you home to sleep. I’ve got things handled here.” Because Leo’s fever had burned for so long, it triggered a mild case of pneumonia, requiring him to stay in the hospital for a few days. Caleb practically moved his office into the hospital room, staying by his son’s side around the clock. Ashley, on the other hand, never visited once. Every day, I cooked meals at home and delivered them to the ward. One afternoon, I was spoon-feeding Leo his lunch when my phone suddenly rang. It was the main hospital. They told me Mia had suffered a massive, sudden brain hemorrhage and was currently in emergency surgery. My hand gave out. The bowl crashed to the floor, the shattering porcelain making Leo jump. Caleb was just walking through the door. He rushed over to me, asking what was wrong. My hands were shaking violently. My brain completely short-circuited, and even pulling oxygen into my lungs felt impossible. How could this happen? When I saw her yesterday, she was perfectly fine. She was supposed to be discharged tomorrow. Everything was getting better. How?

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Right after the final AP exams, a local news reporter interviewed the first student to walk out of the testing center. While the school’s top student smiled at the camera and said this year’s questions weren’t too hard, I walked out right behind him, my face pale, clutching my stomach, and wiping away tears. This starkly contrasting image was screenshotted by netizens and became the internet’s newest viral meme for exam season: “The Smiling Valedictorian and the Crying Slacker.” The comments section was ruthless: “The smiling nerd in the front is so handsome, and the crying slacker in the back really knows how to put on a tragic show.” Me: Gee, thanks a lot. Y’all are so sweet for complimenting my crying skills. 01 During the two days of our final exams, my period hit me like a truck. After the very last subject, my classmates couldn’t wait to throw a massive senior wrap party. Because I was in agonizing pain, I skipped it. As a result, a rumor spread like wildfire that I had bombed the exams so badly I had a mental breakdown and couldn’t even show my face at the party. 02 I slept like the dead at home all night, completely oblivious to the drama. The next morning, I went to school for yearbook signing and senior photos, only to find everyone looking at me with weird, pitying eyes. I didn’t care much, though, because I had something far more important to do today. I was eagerly looking for Ethan Cole. We had made a promise that once finals were over, we would officially start dating. But when I finally found him, he was tucked away in a corner of the hallway, kissing my desk-mate, Hailey Morgan. Their eyelashes fluttered, their cheeks were flushed, and the kiss looked incredibly tender and sweet. Seeing this, my brain instantly short-circuited. After all, just two days ago, Ethan had texted me. He wrote: “Riley, just thinking about you becoming my girlfriend in two days keeps me up at night! I won’t let you down. Let’s meet at the top!” Had the world really spun off its axis in just forty-eight hours? 03 I stood frozen in place. For a second, I didn’t know if I should march up and slap him, or just turn around and walk away. If I slapped him, I didn’t entirely have the moral high ground. Even though the whole senior class knew Ethan and I liked each other, technically, we weren’t officially together yet. But just walking away made my blood boil. While I was hesitating, Ethan spotted me. He instinctively shoved Hailey away and sprinted over to me, looking panicked. “Riley, listen to me, I can explain.” I crossed my arms and sneered. “Go ahead. I’m listening.” How could he possibly spin this into something acceptable? Ethan opened his mouth, seeming to realize how absurd his next words were going to sound. But he said them anyway. “At the wrap party yesterday, you didn’t show up, and Hailey confessed her feelings to me.” I replied that I didn’t go yesterday, and he didn’t even bother to text me once. Turns out, he was busy getting confessed to. I clenched my fists. “And then you two got together?” “No, I didn’t say yes,” Ethan said in a low voice. “She got drunk yesterday and kissed me. Today, she asked me to return that kiss to her so she could have closure, which is why I…” I was dumbfounded. I stared at Ethan. “Do you think I’m an idiot?” Ethan shook his head, offering a bitter smile. “No, I’m telling the truth. Honestly, my head is a total mess right now.” “You don’t need to be conflicted,” Hailey suddenly spoke up from the side. She walked up to me, her voice hoarse. “I was drunk and out of line yesterday when I kissed Ethan. Today, I practically begged him to return the kiss. None of this is his fault. He’s just too much of a gentleman. Don’t blame him.” I was utterly speechless. After delivering her lines, Hailey wiped the tears from her face and smiled tragically at Ethan. “Thank you for letting me leave high school with no regrets. My crush on you ends here. I wish you happiness, Ethan.” With that, Hailey choked back a sob and walked away. Ethan looked at me, then looked at Hailey’s retreating, weeping figure. He gritted his teeth and said, “I’m sorry, Riley. Wait for me, I’ll explain everything properly later.” Then he actually chased after Hailey, leaving me standing alone in the wind. 04 By the time my best friend Savannah Mitchell ran over, I was still standing there like a statue. She practically tackled me, almost knocking me to the floor. Savannah grabbed my shoulders, shaking me back and forth, sobbing loudly. “Riley, you idiot, what happened?! How could you drop the ball at the most critical moment of your life? Waaaah!” I looked at Savannah in confusion. She was genuinely bawling, massive tears rolling down her cheeks and splashing onto the floor. “I know you’re hurting the most right now, and I should be comforting you, but I just can’t hold it in! I’m so sad! Riley, you jerk, you’re usually so arrogant and confident! How could you bomb the finals? You total failure, waaaah!” In no time, Savannah had soaked the shoulder of my shirt with her tears. I looked at her scrunched-up, crying face. “Sav, stop howling. Who told you I bombed the exams? I did perfectly fine.” I pulled out a tissue and wiped her face. Savannah pouted. “Really? Then why didn’t you answer any of my calls last night?!” “I was exhausted after the tests. I went home, skipped dinner, and crashed. I didn’t hear my phone.” Savannah looked at me with red eyes. “Then… did you actually finish the AP Calculus section? Did you write real answers?” I nodded. “I finished the whole thing. I answered everything seriously and even had thirty minutes left over to check my work.” Savannah’s lips curled up into a wobbly smile, but then she frowned again. “But last night, Hailey said you looked awful after the math exam. She said you told her the test was incredibly hard, that you only knew the multiple-choice, and you guessed on all the free-response questions.” “Hailey said that?” Savannah nodded. “She announced it in front of the whole class at the party! Also, you haven’t been on social media since yesterday, right? A news crew caught you on camera. You went viral.” I was completely lost. “What are you talking about?” I only missed one party. How did a whole season of television drama happen in one night? Seeing my blank face, Savannah pulled out her phone and showed me a video. In the video, a reporter was interviewing the first student out of the testing center. I knew the guy—Carter Hayes from Class 2, the genius who was constantly battling me for the #1 rank in our grade. Because Carter was incredibly good-looking, the video had blown up online. While Carter was smiling at the camera saying the exam wasn’t that difficult, I walked out in the background, my face pale, clutching my stomach, and wiping away tears. Someone took a screenshot of this dramatic contrast, creating the ultimate meme: “The Smiling Valedictorian and the Crying Slacker.” The comments were wild: “The smiling nerd in the front is so handsome, and the crying slacker in the back really knows how to put on a tragic show.” Me: Gee, thanks a lot. Y’all are so sweet for complimenting my crying skills.

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My family was poor, the kind of poor where we didn’t know where our next meal was coming from. Mom and Dad just holed up at home, refusing to work or earn a dime. I once overheard them talking: “Just endure it a little longer. Once Claire is born, everything will be fine.” Later, my little sister was born. They named her Claire. Overnight, my deadbeat dad founded a company and became a billionaire CEO. My lazy mother suddenly transformed into a sophisticated, highly sought-after socialite. By chance, I overheard another one of their conversations. It turned out my sister was the “female lead”—born to be the undisputed queen of this world. 1 My family was poor, the kind of poor where we’d eat one meal and starve the next. Mom and Dad were the town’s notorious deadbeats. They idled their days away, shamelessly begging for scraps from the neighbors. I still remember one winter, my mom dragged me to Mrs. Gable’s house next door to beg for a casserole, only to get kicked out. My mom cursed all the way home: “Today I’m begging you, but just wait until my Claire is born. You’ll be the ones on your knees begging me!” It wasn’t the first time I had heard something like that. She and Dad kept the phrase “wait until Claire is born” constantly on their lips, muttering it like a mantra. It was as if “Claire being born” possessed some magical power to completely alter our family’s destiny. Even though I was young, I didn’t believe it. Our family was in ruins; how could popping out another baby change anything? But the facts proved them right. 2 My dad, Arthur, said that on the day he and my mom got married, an eccentric fortune teller wandered into town. The man seemed half-crazy, rambling on and on about bizarre things. He claimed that the world we lived in was actually a book. He said their second daughter would be the female lead of this world. Once she was born, our family’s wretched fate would instantly change, because the female lead was destined to grow up with a silver spoon in her mouth. My dad believed him completely. After the wedding, he and Mom continued to slack off at home, refusing to lift a finger. I originally had an older sister. When she was born, they were disgusted that she was a girl—just another useless mouth to feed—so they abandoned her in the woods behind our town. When I was born, they assumed I was the female lead the psychic had prophesied. They treated me decently, but our house remained dirt poor. Until my mom got pregnant again. The very day she found out she was expecting, the county issued a massive commercial buyout notice for our area. Our family owned acres of useless, undeveloped land. Almost instantly, we became the wealthiest family in the county. My dad had a sudden, terrifying realization: the baby in Mom’s belly was the true female lead they had been waiting for all these years. To test his theory, on the day we received the buyout funds, my dad took half his net worth and headed to the casino. A week later, he drove back home in a luxury sports car. He scooped my mom, Fiona, into his arms, practically tossing her into the air. “Fiona! This baby is our savior, our guardian angel! She’s basically my god!” My mom looked at the towering stacks of expensive supplements and designer gifts he had brought back. Pushing out her barely-there pregnant belly, she paraded around the neighborhood for hours. She was positively glowing with arrogant pride. I stared at the yard full of fancy food, reaching out to touch a box here, a tin there. My dad fiercely swatted my hand away. “Greedy brat! This is to nourish your mother’s body. If you starve your little sister, I’ll end you!” My mom’s previously elated mood soured the moment she looked at me. “You useless, unpresentable thing! All of this belongs to your sister. Don’t even think about taking a bite!” With that, she placed her hands on her hips and started ordering my dad around. “You better serve me well! If I get upset, Claire will be the first to punish you for it!” My dad nodded profusely. “Yes, yes, of course!” For the next few months, he waited on her hand and foot. Until it was time for the delivery. My mom had a difficult labor with Claire. She begged my dad to come into the delivery room with her. My dad got a phone call about a massive business deal and walked away. Before leaving, he didn’t forget to literally shove me into the delivery room in his place. He stubbornly refused to authorize a C-section, repeating over and over: “This is our family’s golden goose! She absolutely cannot be touched by a scalpel!” In his ignorance, he was terrified that the surgeon’s knife might accidentally graze Claire. And so, my mom took out all the agonizing pain of childbirth—and all her resentment toward my dad—entirely on me. She grabbed my arm and bit down with everything she had. By the time Claire was finally born, the exhausted doctors and nurses realized that a massive chunk of flesh had been bitten out of my arm. When Mom was wheeled out of the delivery room, my dad scooped up Claire, hovering obsessively by Mom’s bedside. “Look, Fiona! Our precious baby girl. She’s absolutely stunning.” Only I stood shivering at the door of the hospital room, completely lost. I had been so terrified by my mom’s screaming that I had wet my pants, completely forgetting the searing pain in my arm. Smelling dirty and gross, my dad blocked me from entering the room. “Get lost! If you stink up the room for your mom and sister, I’ll skin you alive!” Mom lay weakly on the hospital bed. Dad excitedly explained everything to her. His factory permits had been instantly approved, and he had just signed a multimillion-dollar contract. “Fiona! Claire really is our lucky charm! I just sat at home, and the money practically delivered itself to our doorstep!” “Of course she is. Claire is our family’s greatest hero!” And Claire certainly didn’t disappoint them. From a very young age, she was the most dazzling existence in any room. 3 When I was seven, we moved into a lavish mansion in the city’s most exclusive neighborhood. If Claire snuck out to play, she would miraculously bump into a Wall Street tycoon who would safely escort her home. If she squatted by the front door playing with weeds, a renowned classical oil painter walking by would spot her and immediately take her on as his final apprentice. If she stood up for a homeless kid, she would instantly win the adoration of every child in the neighborhood. Just like Mom and Dad always said, she existed entirely as the main character. Everywhere she went, she sparkled. Because of this, every time my mom looked at me, her face contorted with disgust. “Get away from me! How on earth did I give birth to such an ugly monster!” Claire had porcelain skin and a bright, dazzling smile. I was tanned dark from the sun, horribly frail from malnutrition, and my hair was as dry as straw. Anyone who saw us said we looked absolutely nothing like sisters. Claire was like a little sun, making everyone around her feel warm and comfortable. And I was an out-and-out feral child, a peasant. My very existence was a constant reminder to them of those destitute days, of the humiliating past where they had to beg for scraps with their heads bowed. 4 As a young child, I didn’t understand the complexities of adult emotions. Having nothing else to do, my mom spent her days shopping with her new wealthy friends. She would bring home piles of gorgeous little dresses and hold them up against Claire. She didn’t have much experience shopping for kids yet, so many of the dresses were far too big. I thought they were bought for me. Overjoyed, I put one on and ran up to her, spinning in a circle. “Mom, is it pretty?” What greeted me wasn’t a compliment, but her explosive rage. “Who told you to wear that?! You don’t deserve it!” She frantically ripped the dress off me, her long, manicured nails leaving bloody scratches all over my skin. “Can’t you be a little more sensible? These are your sister’s clothes, and you’re trying to steal them?!” She was completely hysterical. After screaming at me, she turned around and pulled a terrified, crying Claire into her arms, comforting her with absolute tenderness. “There, there, Claire. Mommy’s got you.” As she said it, she didn’t forget to aim a harsh kick at my leg, ordering me back to my room. I was eight years old that year. Claire was three. Stripped down to my underwear, I fought back tears and walked back to my room. In my innocence, I desperately wanted to ask my mom: Since my sister has so many clothes, why couldn’t I just wear this one big dress? Why can’t you spare just a tiny bit of love for me? Just a little bit. But the words died in my throat the moment I saw the sheer, unbridled hatred in her eyes. 5 Once Claire started kindergarten, she was constantly bringing home certificates and gold stars. Whenever that happened, my dad would lift her high into the air or throw her over his broad shoulders, running wildly around the yard while she giggled. Mom would agree to absolutely any request she made. I started studying fiercely. I thought that if I, like Claire, brought home lots of awards, they would definitely be happy too. I wanted to be carried on my dad’s shoulders. His shoulders looked so broad and sturdy; sitting up there had to be incredibly comfortable. I consistently maintained first place in my entire grade. Yet, I never heard a single word of praise from my parents. “What’s the use of good grades? With our family’s wealth, if you have to rely on grades to eat, you’ll be laughed out of town!” At first, I didn’t understand what my dad meant. Then, Claire started taking all sorts of extracurriculars: ballet, piano, classical painting, etiquette classes. She traveled abroad two or three times a year. She had custom-made designer jewelry. Both materially and emotionally, Claire was raised like royalty. Meanwhile, when I was so hungry I stole a pack of expired cookies from the trash and was caught and beaten half to death, she just blinked her innocent, huge eyes and asked, “Sister, there are expensive imported truffles in the kitchen. Why don’t you go eat those?” That pack of expired cookies had been tossed in the garbage bin. I was so desperately hungry that I dug them out. Since they were individually wrapped, even though they were expired, they still tasted sweet and milky—a hundred times better than the sour, spoiled leftovers I used to beg for back in the old neighborhood. When Mom heard from Claire that I was digging through the trash, she grabbed me by the hair without a word of explanation and slapped me across the face, left and right. “Why can’t you learn how to behave?! Eat, eat, eat, are you the reincarnation of a starving ghost?!” She hit me so hard that after a few slaps, my right ear exploded in agonizing pain. I cried and begged for mercy. “Stop hitting me, stop hitting me! I won’t eat them anymore, I won’t eat them anymore!” “Chloe, are you trying to piss me off to death?!” “Get the hell back to your room!!!” Claire trotted over, hugging Mom’s leg to comfort her. “Mommy, don’t be mad. Claire loves you!” Watching this beautiful picture of maternal love, I stumbled back to my bedroom. My ear hurt like hell, but I didn’t dare beg her to take me to a doctor. Later that evening, the housekeeper came into my room to pass on a message. Because of my “disgraceful behavior” of digging through the trash, Mom ordered me to reflect on my actions. No dinner allowed. “Madam said if she doesn’t teach you a lesson, you’ll never learn.” She muttered a bunch of other things, but my ear was in such excruciating pain I couldn’t hear her clearly. Before she finally left, she spat hard on my floor. “You really think you’re some rich young lady? You’re absolutely nothing!” That night, starving and in agony, I didn’t even know how I eventually passed out.

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In the seventh year of our marriage, I went to the hospital to drop off Ethan’s dinner, just like I always did. But outside his office door, I heard his colleagues teasing him, calling a female patient “Mrs. Vance.” And Ethan didn’t correct them. Instead, he just smiled, tacitly accepting it. I set his thermos down, turned around, and walked away. He chased after me, yelling at me for being unreasonable. “Mia is just a patient! She just had surgery and can’t be stressed out.” “I’m a doctor. As my husband’s wife, can’t you be a little more understanding?” In the past, I would have thrown a massive fit. I would have turned the hospital upside down. But now, I truly didn’t care anymore. … When Ethan got home, I was already lying in bed. Last night, he had texted me saying his stomach hurt and he was going to sleep in the doctors’ lounge. When I called him, his phone went straight to voicemail. So I had woken up bright and early today to make him a special bone broth and drove it all the way to the hospital. If I hadn’t seen him looking perfectly healthy while flirting with Mia Sinclair, I probably would have still felt sorry for him. The mattress dipped as his heavy frame climbed into bed. Ethan wrapped his arm around my waist and whispered, “Honey, why did you go to sleep without waiting for me?” In the past, I would have thrown my arms around his neck and eagerly reciprocated his hints. But now, I just wanted a good night’s sleep. Seeing my silence, he took my left hand and gently rubbed it. “The soup was delicious. I finished it all. Just be careful next time, you burned your hand.” “I’ll put some ointment on it for you.” The cool sensation of the medical ointment quickly spread across my palm. He kissed my left hand and went to take a shower. As the sound of running water started in the bathroom, I pulled my red, blistered right hand from under the pillow, got up, and applied the ointment to it myself. While Ethan was showering, his phone kept buzzing on the nightstand. As a lead cardiothoracic surgeon, he often got late-night calls from the hospital. Afraid he might miss an emergency, I pressed answer. Before I could even speak, a sweet, delicate voice came through the speaker. [Dr. Vance, did you like dinner today? I learned a new recipe. I’ll make you slow-roasted short ribs tomorrow.] Before I could say a word, the phone was violently snatched from my hand. “Didn’t I tell you never to answer my phone?” His hand gripped exactly where my burn was. He squeezed so hard that a layer of blistered skin peeled right off. Blood immediately began to well up. I gasped in pain, clutching my hand. He told the person on the phone he’d call back later, then grabbed my wrist again. “You’re such an idiot. You don’t even know how to cook, yet you insisted on making soup. Now you’re hurt. Serves you right!” “Sit down! I’ll redo the bandages.” It was the middle of summer. If the wound wasn’t treated properly, it would easily get infected. I sat on the couch. He brought out the first-aid kit from the study and knelt in front of me to treat the wound. He sighed, his tone softening. “Does it hurt, honey?” I didn’t answer. I just felt his grip loosen slightly, and he blew on the wound a few times to ease the pain. As he stood up, a keychain fell out of his duffel bag. I picked it up and looked closely. It featured a cartoon dog and cat, with a line of text engraved below: [Hope my Golden Retriever Ethan is happy every day. Yours, Mia the Kitten.] Ethan frowned. “She gave that to me when she was discharged today. I just accepted it to be polite.” I placed the keychain on the coffee table and said calmly, “Hmm. That was very thoughtful of her.” The air in the room seemed to freeze for a second. Ethan looked at me in shock. “You want me to keep it? You’re not going to throw it away?” I looked up, feigning confusion. “Why wouldn’t you keep it? A harmonious doctor-patient relationship is a good thing. I should be happy for you.” His shock was entirely within my expectations. After all, the old me would have blown up and thrown away anything connected to another woman. But now, these petty little tricks couldn’t stir a single ripple in my heart. He was about to say something else when a loud crack of thunder shook the house, and the entire room went pitch black. The power went out. I couldn’t help but shrink back. He immediately pulled me into his arms, comforting me softly, “Don’t be afraid. I’m right here. Your husband is here.” I had terrible night blindness, so I was terrified of the dark. Ethan coaxed me gently while reaching for the candles we kept in the drawer. Right at that moment, his phone rang again. Mia’s sobbing voice was crystal clear in the quiet room. [Dr. Vance, my power went out and I’m so scared. I feel like my chest is tight and I can’t breathe.] Ethan immediately dropped the candle he was holding, grabbed his car keys, and headed for the door. “Mia isn’t feeling well. I’m just going to go check on her and I’ll be right back. Light the candle yourself.” My phone was dead. I blindly felt around with both hands until I found the candle and lighter he’d left behind. But the candle had no wick. It couldn’t be lit. In my panic in the pitch black, I slammed my waist hard against the corner of the table. A piercing pain shot through my entire body. Just as I was about to collapse onto the floor, I caught myself with my hands. But the burned area on my palm took the brunt of the impact. I lay on the floor in the dark, gasping for air like a stranded fish. A massive thunderstorm raged outside. I sat on the couch with my knees pulled to my chest for three whole hours. Ethan never came back. The next morning, Ethan rang the doorbell, looking exhausted from the storm. There was a faint smudge of pink lipstick on his collar. He frowned. “I forgot my keys last night. I knocked on the door all night, why didn’t you answer?” It had rained heavily all night. I hadn’t slept a wink, but I hadn’t heard a single knock. “The hotel bed was so hard and uncomfortable. It was awful,” he complained. If it were the past, I would have immediately hugged him and given him a massage after hearing his complaints. But now, I just slowly took a sip of my morning coffee, not even giving him a glance. He immediately walked over and started explaining. “I really did sleep at the hotel right by our subdivision last night. Look, I brought you those bacon, egg, and cheese sandwiches from the corner deli. You’ve been craving these, right?” I glanced at the sandwich bag but didn’t pick it up. It was indeed the place I used to eat at the most. Back when Ethan and I first got married, our careers were just starting out, and we had to scrape together our meager salaries just to pay the mortgage. That corner deli was cheap and the portions were huge. I ate those sandwiches for seven years. Just then, my Instagram app pushed a notification from a “Person You May Know.” Mia had posted a photo of a luxurious candlelit dinner with the caption: [A 6’2″ cardiothoracic surgeon who is amazing in the living room and the kitchen. The best Golden Retriever Ethan in the world.] I calmly locked my phone. Ethan picked up a piece of the sandwich and held it to my lips. “Eat it while it’s hot. It won’t taste good if it gets cold.” The greasy smell of the bacon hovered right at my nose. I instinctively pushed it away, and the sandwich fell to the floor. Ethan slammed his hand on the table and sneered. “I just left you home alone for a little bit! I even got the candles ready for you! Do you really have to throw a tantrum over this?” “I’m a doctor. I have to be responsible for my patients. If something happened to Mia last night, neither of us would ever be able to live with the guilt!” I picked the sandwich up, threw it in the trash, and didn’t even turn around. “I respect your profession. I have absolutely no problem with it.” But Ethan wouldn’t let it go. He grabbed my wrist. “We’ve been married for seven years. Playing hard to get is a game for little girls. You need to stop watching so many romantic movies, they’re rotting your brain.” When I was younger, I loved watching romantic dramas, crying and laughing over other people’s love stories. Ethan would always pour cold water on me, calling me a hopeless romantic and a complete idiot. Now that I was older, anytime I didn’t cater to his every whim, he would accuse me of playing hard to get like the girls in those movies. If I dressed up a little, he would mock me and say, “Pink is for teenagers. Aren’t you a little old for that?” And then he would watch me slowly take off my makeup and change into sweatpants before he was finally satisfied. Listening to these words that used to sting me so deeply, I felt absolutely nothing. I just gave him a side-eye, looking at him like he was brain-dead. Then, I went into the bedroom, changed into a form-fitting black dress, sprayed on my newest perfume, grabbed my purse, and opened the front door. “Where are you going?” his angry voice rang in my ear. “I have plans.” The old Ethan never cared where I went. Because deep down, he believed that no matter where I went, I would always end up back by his side. But today, it was like the sun rose in the west; he was relentlessly interrogating me. It wasn’t until I sat in my car and hit the gas that the incessant buzzing in my ear finally stopped. My best friend Harper’s fashion studio was having its grand opening today, and she had invited me for the ribbon-cutting and champagne. When she saw me, her eyes lit up. “Oh my god, I haven’t seen you dress like this in years! Isn’t your husband going to be pissed?” I smiled and handed her a congratulatory card with a generous check inside. “It’s my body. I can wear whatever I want. He doesn’t get a say.” She happily took the card with a money-loving grin. “Yes, exactly! You’ve still absolutely got it.” Amidst the clinking glasses and flowing champagne, I realized I hadn’t felt this relaxed in a very long time. Meanwhile, my phone, which I had put on silent, was vibrating non-stop. Harper, her face flushed from the alcohol, nudged me. “Twelve missed calls. I think your husband is losing his mind.” I flipped the phone face down and kept drinking. After a few more rounds, I grabbed my purse and went downstairs to wait for my Uber. Instead, under the neon streetlights, I saw a furious Ethan. “Olivia Davis, you’re unbelievable. You ignore my calls and come here to get blackout drunk? Did you ever stop to think I’d be worried about you?” He canceled my Uber, threw me over his shoulder, and tossed me into the backseat of his SUV. In the cramped, suffocating space, he pinned my wrists down. His eyes burned with a familiar lust. He slowly leaned in, but the second his lips touched mine, I shoved him away. “Are you done throwing this fit?! You’re my wife! Am I not even allowed to touch you now?” The buzz from the alcohol instantly vanished. I sat up, straightened my messy dress, and said coldly, “Just drive home.” Ethan was always busy with work, so in the past, whenever he was home, I constantly wanted to be close to him. When he was leaning back on the couch reading medical journals, I would lean in for a kiss, and he would coldly shove me away—just exactly like I did to him right now. It used to pour a bucket of ice water over my burning heart. Seeing the firm rejection in my eyes, he froze for a long moment. Then, he slammed the car door shut and sped off. When we got home, I grabbed his blanket and threw it into the guest room. “I drank today and I’m a restless sleeper. So I don’t disturb you before work tomorrow, you’re sleeping in the guest room.” Hearing my absolute refusal to compromise, Ethan’s face darkened drastically. Finally, without a word, he went into the guest room. In our king-sized bed, I used to always want to cling to him. But now, I just realized how incredibly comfortable it was to have the whole bed to myself. When I woke up the next day, Ethan had already left for work. He had left cold deli sandwiches and coffee on the table. Bacon and egg sandwiches again. I was so sick of them. I packed up the food and went downstairs to feed the stray cats. While waiting for the elevator, I saw a job posting from my old company. Three years ago, Ethan was promoted to Deputy Chief of Surgery. To focus on taking care of him, I quit my job.

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1 When I pushed open the doors to the VIP lounge, Carter Sterling was down on one knee, holding up a massive diamond ring. Only, the proposal wasn’t meant for me. Standing in front of him was a young woman in a white dress, elegant and breathtakingly beautiful. Tears of joy streamed down her face as she nodded, crying out, “I do.” When I walked in, Carter didn’t even look up. His absolute focus was on sliding the ring onto the girl’s finger. It wasn’t until her best friend escorted her to the restroom to touch up her makeup that Carter finally cast a cold, indifferent glance my way. “Chloe is innocent, and she scares easily. It took me a lot of time and effort to win her over,” he said flatly. “Whatever messy history we had, you better make sure she never finds out about it.” “Also, she just accepted my proposal. I’m announcing our engagement to the press tomorrow.” Carter and I had been dating in secret for three years. Aside from the elders in our two families, only a tiny handful of people in our social circle knew the truth. As soon as the words left his mouth, the few insiders in the lounge awkwardly averted their eyes to look at me. I took a deep, trembling breath. “Carter, could you hold off on the announcement for just a little while?” “Even if it’s just a month… no, just half a month…” Carter let out a sharp laugh, a faint trace of mockery dancing in his eyes. “Hazel, we’re already at this point, and you’re still desperately clinging to me?” 2 “Carter, for the sake of our past together…” “That’s enough!” Carter suddenly snapped, his face turning freezing cold as he smashed his wine glass against the table. “Over the past three years, the Sterling family has poured at least thirty million dollars into the Hayes family’s sinking ship. Isn’t that enough for you?!” I was completely speechless. “Go home. I don’t want Chloe to come back and get the wrong idea.” I turned around, my body stiff as a board. As I opened the door to leave, I heard Carter mutter to someone in the room, “If your heart bleeds for her so much, why don’t you marry the bankrupt heiress yourself?” I couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at my own expense. It was true. The Hayes family was bankrupt. Ever since my parents passed away in a tragic accident, our company had been teetering on the edge of total collapse. But Carter conveniently forgot one thing: it was our “bankrupt” Hayes family that had saved his and his grandfather’s lives at sea many years ago. He only remembered the resentment. He hated that my family had used a life debt to leverage our relationship. He hated me, the woman he felt had been violently forced upon him. 3 The news of Carter and Chloe’s engagement swept across New York City like wildfire. My grandfather, who was already severely ill from the grief of losing my parents, had a massive heart attack from the sheer rage of the betrayal and was rushed to the ICU. While I spent day and night holding vigil at the hospital, my Uncle Robert led a hostile takeover of our corporate headquarters. In the past, with the Sterling family backing us, my uncle and his faction were too terrified to make a move. But now? Against an orphaned twenty-four-year-old girl with no safety net, they stripped away all their scruples. During a brief moment of consciousness, my grandfather gripped my hand with whatever weak strength he had left. “Hazel… the company is your parents’ lifeblood. Even if it burns to the ground, you cannot let those wolves take it from you.” My eyes flushed red with hot tears. “Don’t worry, Grandpa. I already have a plan.” Uncle Robert and his faction were using the archaic excuse that a female heir couldn’t carry on the family legacy, plotting to legally strip me of my parents’ estate. But I would absolutely never let them win. 4 During the second week of Carter’s highly publicized engagement, I made the most absurd—yet most crucial—decision of my life. I needed a child. An heir to inherit the Hayes legacy. Because I didn’t meet the strict medical requirements for immediate IVF, I ultimately chose the traditional method: natural conception. As for the father of my child— George, the loyal butler who had served my grandfather his entire life, placed a single, meticulously vetted file on the desk in front of me. “Miss Hazel, please take a look.” The profile was simple. He was from Chicago, raised in a single-parent household, and took his mother’s maiden name. His academic records were flawless, proving a genius-level IQ. The genetics wouldn’t be an issue. A highly detailed medical report confirmed he was in peak physical condition with zero hidden hereditary diseases. But the most striking detail was the face in the photograph. He was so breathtakingly handsome it almost made my head spin. “Uncle George, are you sure a man this brilliant and… striking… actually needs to resort to this kind of business?” I couldn’t help but ask. George smiled kindly. “I believe a close family member of his has fallen severely ill. He’s desperate for quick cash to cover the medical bills.” Thinking of my own grandfather fighting for his life in the ICU, a wave of profound sympathy washed over me. “Add another fifty thousand dollars to his compensation.” “Right away, Miss Hazel.” 5 It was the twelfth day after Carter’s engagement announcement. It was also the peak of my fertile window. That night, I met the man named Liam Archer. He was wearing a generic black dress shirt and dark slacks. I couldn’t spot a single designer logo; they looked like cheap department store clothes. Yet, somehow, the bargain-bin outfit didn’t look cheap on his frame. Just as the contract stipulated, his eyes were securely covered with a black silk blindfold. When I pushed the bedroom door open, he instinctively stood up and faced the doorway. It was only then that I realized just how incredibly tall he was. He had to be at least 6’2″. His proportions were flawless—broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and endlessly long legs. “Miss?” Liam spoke, his voice carrying a probing, cautious tone. His voice was deep and rich. A wave of satisfaction settled in my chest. “It’s me. Don’t be nervous.” I walked slowly toward him, lifting a hand to give his arm a reassuring pat. His muscles were rock solid. “Have you showered?” I asked. “Yes, I have.” Truthfully, I was so incredibly nervous that a cold sweat had broken out across my back. But I deliberately put on a facade of a seasoned, confident employer. “Then let’s begin.” 6 Liam couldn’t see me, but I could see him perfectly. The moment the words left my mouth, the corner of Liam’s lips curved into a faint, subtle smirk. Facing me, shielded by the black silk, he gave a slight nod. “Of course, Miss.” His long, elegant fingers unfastened the buttons of his shirt one by one. With a smooth, practiced motion, he pulled the hem free from his trousers. The second I saw his perfectly sculpted waist and the sharp V-line dipping below his belt, my face erupted in flames. When he reached for his belt buckle, I panicked and immediately spun around, facing the wall. The rustling of fabric finally stopped. The man’s voice, now laced with a husky, magnetic edge, echoed in the quiet room. “Miss, I’m ready.” “Ah… oh, right. Okay, then… go lie down on the bed.” 7 I forced myself to take a deep breath, desperately trying to look relaxed and natural as I turned back around. But my eyes instantly widened. The long tails of the black silk ribbon cascaded down his sharp jawline. The blindfold concealed his eyes, only serving to highlight the aggressive, perfect bridge of his nose. In my twenty-four years of life, this was the very first time I had ever been this intimately close to a man’s bare body. “Miss?” Perhaps because I had remained dead silent for too long, Liam called out softly. He took a step forward, reaching out a hand as if searching for me in the dark. His fingertips brushed against my shoulder. After a brief pause, he boldly wrapped his hands around my shoulders—crossing the professional boundary. And in the very next second, he effortlessly scooped me up into his arms, carrying me bridal style. 8 My body sank into the plush mattress. Liam respectfully braced his hands on either side of me, ensuring none of his heavy weight crushed me. “If anything is uncomfortable later, please make sure to tell me.” My heart was hammering so violently against my ribs I was dizzy, practically suffocating. “Stop talking so much and just hurry up,” I snapped. I turned my face away, biting down hard on my lower lip. I had no idea that the tips of my ears and the back of my neck were glowing crimson. “Alright.” He lowered his head. The black silk brushed feather-light against my collarbone. When Liam leaned in to kiss me, I aggressively turned my head. “Don’t touch my mouth.” I bluffed, trying to sound as fierce and commanding as a billionaire heiress should. But I didn’t realize the end of my sentence trembled with unmistakable vulnerability. “Bite me if it hurts.” Liam’s cool fingers gently cradled my face as he pressed a searing, lingering kiss against the side of my neck. But the exact moment his chest pressed flush against mine, my phone began to ring loudly on the nightstand. 9 Liam instinctively froze. I pushed myself up slightly and grabbed the phone. I was completely caught off guard to see the name Carter Sterling flashing on the screen. I hesitated for a second before hitting decline. But almost immediately, the phone started vibrating again. My eyes drifted to Liam’s face in the dim light. He had incredibly thin lips. People always said men with thin lips were inherently cold-hearted and ruthless. A fleeting thought crossed my mind: Cold-hearted is good. A ruthless man was perfectly suited for a transactional business deal like this. We would part ways at dawn, severing all ties forever. I swiped the green button to answer. Carter’s voice sounded bizarrely foreign to my ears. “Hazel, why didn’t you tell me your grandfather was hospitalized?” “It’s not exactly a secret.” “Where are you right now? I’ll come pick you up, we can go to the hospital to see him together…” “That won’t be necessary.” “Hazel, your grandfather always treated me well. I just want to give the old man some peace of mind right now.” “I said, it’s not necessary. But thank you for the gesture.” “Hazel… you should know when to quit.” Carter’s voice was now tightly laced with barely suppressed rage. I knew him too well. For an arrogant, prideful man like him to actually call me and offer an olive branch was a massive concession on his part. But I genuinely didn’t need it. It was too late. I gripped the phone tightly, glancing at the man hovering over me. I could physically feel the turbulent wave of lust radiating from his body, forcibly restrained by sheer willpower. “Carter…” Before I could finish, Liam’s dark, gravelly voice cut through the silence. “Miss, can we continue now?” A scorching kiss was violently pressed against the corner of my lips. And he, fully primed and lethal, made his move. The phone slipped from my sweaty palm and crashed onto the hardwood floor. I furrowed my brows and let out a soft, pained whimper. “It hurts…” From the floor, Carter’s frantic, furious voice echoed from the speaker: “Hazel… who the hell are you with?!” The screen went black. The pain was so sharp I opened my mouth and sank my teeth viciously into Liam’s forearm. He paused for just a fraction of a second before leaning down. With devastating tenderness, yet undeniable dominance… He kissed my lips. 10 My first instinct was to violently shove him away. But the brief kiss was followed by an agonizing, tearing pain that felt like I was being split in half. Liam stopped moving immediately. The black silk ribbon cascading from his eyes brushed softly against my neck. I cried from the pain, my fingernails subconsciously digging deep into the flesh of his arms. His large hands, which had been gripping my waist, suddenly shifted. He pulled my entire trembling body tightly into his warm embrace. His long fingers gently swept aside the sweat-drenched hair sticking to my cheeks. Another scalding, bone-melting kiss fell against my lips. As my body slowly adapted, my mind slipping into a dizzying, euphoric haze… He drove me down into the mattress once more. Somewhere in the middle of the night, I briefly lost consciousness. Because of that, I never knew the truth. I never knew that in that exact moment, Liam ripped the black silk blindfold from his eyes. In the shadowy, moonlit bedroom, he stared deeply at my face. And he kissed me, inch by inch, starting from the center of my brow, all the way down. When I finally opened my eyes the next morning, I found myself dressed in a fresh, soft silk nightgown. The other side of the bed was completely empty and cold. It was as if the chaotic, intimate storm of last night was nothing more than a fever dream. I dragged my aching body out of bed to wash up. When I limped downstairs for breakfast, Uncle George informed me that Liam Archer had left in the dead of night, exactly as the contract dictated. I sat at the grand dining table. Remembering his aggressive boundary-crossing last night, and how I had completely, helplessly surrendered to it… the back of my neck burned with heat. “Did you pay him?” “As agreed, we wired him the first third of the payment. The remaining balance will be transferred the moment your pregnancy is medically confirmed.” I nodded, not saying another word. 11 At the Plaza Hotel. Liam Archer had long since discarded the cheap, off-the-rack clothing he wore the night before. He had just finished swimming laps in the hotel’s private penthouse pool. His family’s senior butler was waiting respectfully in the living room. “Madam heard you were staying in New York. She demands you join her for dinner tonight.” Liam casually tossed his damp towel onto a lounge chair and let out a low, amused scoff. “She has an ulterior motive.” “You are turning twenty-eight after the New Year, sir. You can’t blame Madam for being anxious.” Liam walked over to the minibar and pulled out a bottle of sparkling water. He slicked his dripping black hair back, exposing his sharp, aristocratic forehead and striking, aggressive brow line. “What’s the rush? Tell her that in a few weeks, she might just become a grandmother.” Liam took a swig of water, throwing a teasing smirk at the butler who had watched him grow up. The butler nearly had a heart attack. “Young Master, you cannot joke about something of this magnitude!” “You are the sole heir to both the Kensington and Archer dynasties! The future heir of this family is more precious than solid gold! You cannot be reckless with your bloodline…” “The future Madam of this house must be welcomed with a grand, traditional church wedding and all the proper respect!” “I am fully aware of that.” Liam sat down gracefully on the velvet sofa. He lowered his gaze, staring intently at his left forearm. The deep, crescent-shaped bite mark was still vividly clear against his skin. Remembering that night, an incredibly soft, tender warmth crept into his eyes.

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Years Later, My Second-Chance Romance Novel Went Viral. The Male Lead Was Him. At my new book launch, he sat in the audience as the lead investor. His girlfriend smiled and said, “We’re getting engaged soon. I hope certain people don’t flatter themselves.” The reporters didn’t give up. “Mr. Sterling, if you hate the author, why did you buy the copyright?” Noah Sterling didn’t even glance at me, answering with cool indifference, “The plot is atrocious. I don’t want to see it ever again.” 1 “Did you hear? In the novel, the main characters didn’t actually get back together. The female lead dumped the guy.” “Why?” “Because he was broke.” “Later, when Noah became the heir to the Sterling family, she went crawling back to him, but he turned her down.” “How does she still have the nerve to write a book?” The AC at the New York book launch was set to a freezing 64 degrees. Insults and jeers from the readers echoed through the room. I kept my head down, carefully signing my name on the title page of the hardcover books. I wrote this novel the year I graduated from college. I never expected it to blow up on Amazon. The crazier the readers shipped the characters back then, the more viciously they cursed me now that my past with Noah Sterling had been dug up. But I couldn’t afford to be upset. Even if I had to smile while being verbally abused, I had to finish this launch event. Because it was what the investors demanded. Noah was currently sitting in the audience. Dressed in a tailored bespoke suit, he sat poised and composed, watching the girl next to him accept media interviews. “We’re getting engaged soon, so please, some people shouldn’t flatter themselves.” The girl smiled sweetly. “If someone ruined another person’s entire life, it would be absurd to think they could just get back together.” I knew this girl. Stella Montgomery, our college classmate. Her family and the Sterlings were both old-money elites in New York, with ties going back generations. Back in college when I was dating Noah, she went out of her way to be my best friend. After graduation, we became strangers. The reporter then handed the microphone to Noah. “Mr. Sterling, rumor has it that the story between you and the author has gone viral online. How did you two break up back then?” Noah didn’t even look at me. “I suggest you ask the author.” That frigid, icy tone only further confirmed the rumors. It confirmed that I had overestimated myself and abandoned Noah. Laughter erupted all around me. “Some say your first choice wasn’t Wall Street, but rather going to MIT to become a physicist.” “Could you tell us why you came back to inherit the business empire instead?” Noah’s gaze pierced through the layers of people, staring at me expressionlessly for a moment. Then, he looked away. “I was young and didn’t know what I wanted.” “Facts have proven that people should return to the social class and field where they belong.” “Instead of… compounding a mistake.” After finishing his sentence, he asked blankly, “What do you think, Miss Evans?” Facing the cameras, my mind went completely blank. Just as I was about to say something, Noah lowered his eyes and turned to converse with a Wall Street executive next to him, seemingly unconcerned with how I would answer. The giant screen in the venue switched to an exclusive interview Noah had done previously. “What was your reason for purchasing the film rights to this book?” Noah’s tone was cold. “The plot is atrocious. I never want to see it again.” 2 I actually only found out today that Noah was my investor. Very few fans showed up to the new book launch. Instead, I received an industry blacklist order. My website was about to take down the novel, and physical copies were being pulled from shelves. “Lily, the Hollywood adaptation probably isn’t going to happen.” After the launch event, my literary agent, Arthur, stopped me. I stood by the door, feeling somewhat dazed. His gaze fell on my ears, and he hesitated for a moment. He asked, “Your… ears?” I touched the hearing aids hidden beneath my hair, feeling a bit embarrassed. “Yeah… The doctor said there’s a new experimental treatment at Johns Hopkins. I want to give it a try.” Over the past few years, my hearing had been deteriorating. If I didn’t stare at people’s lips, I often couldn’t decipher what they were saying at all. The medical bills for the treatment would be $150,000. Without the advance royalties from this book, I couldn’t possibly afford it. Arthur sighed. “I’m sorry, I can’t help you.” I knew he was in a tough spot too. We were just a small independent publisher, trying to make a living. Who would have known we’d suddenly be targeted by major capital? The work I wrote right after graduation a few years ago had been dug up and hyped into a viral sensation. And I had been pushed into the eye of the storm. “It’s okay. I’ll figure something else out.” He patted my shoulder. Before he could finish speaking, someone suddenly bumped into me. I stumbled, and my hearing aid went flying. “Oh, sorry about that…” The UberEats delivery guy quickly disappeared into the elevator. I crouched down and found my hearing aid cracked. The ambient noise around me was suddenly muffled by a layer of fog, buzzing unintelligibly. That was, until the light above my head was blocked out. A pair of polished black dress shoes stopped in front of me. I looked up. Noah was in his sharp suit. His gaze cut through the cool metallic frames of his glasses, scrutinizing me without an ounce of warmth. His hand rested lightly on a stack of cargo boxes that had almost tipped over. His slightly furrowed brows revealed a hint of impatience. “Are you deaf?” I read his lips clearly. I also saw a terrified delivery worker next to him, apologizing to me profusely. It turned out I had crouched right in the middle of the hallway, blocking his path, and hadn’t heard his warning. He had been pushing a tall stack of boxes and couldn’t see me. Which was why I had almost been crushed. “I’m sorry for the trouble.” I hurriedly hid the broken hearing aid in my purse, stood up, and apologized to the worker. Noah withdrew his hand, and the boxes crashed down right next to my feet. “This is my corporate building. I don’t want any accidents happening here, that’s all.” After saying that, he turned and walked away without looking back. 3 I had been busy all day and hadn’t even eaten yet. I received an iMessage from my best friend and briefly explained the situation to her. “Stella is with Noah?!” My best friend exploded the moment she saw my text. “Does he know what kind of person Stella is? If she hadn’t abandoned you back then, would you have ended up like this?” I paused, then replied: “People naturally want to run when they encounter danger. You can’t… blame others for that.” The weather in New York in June was always unpredictable. A massive downpour started without warning. Just across the street, a massive LED billboard in Times Square displayed the new Manhattan real estate project jointly invested in by the Sterling and Montgomery families. It was in full swing. I remembered the analysis I’d seen on Twitter. Marriages between old-money families were historically unbreakable. In the years since graduation, I occasionally heard news about Noah from old classmates. Everyone used to think he came from a poor background. He had excellent grades and even won first place in the National Science Bowl. When we broke up, Noah was negotiating a full-ride scholarship to MIT. But later, his grades suddenly plummeted. He missed the Ivy League cut-off. When he reappeared, it was as the heir to the Sterling empire, suddenly exposed to the media. He was a completely different person. Ruthless and decisive. I knew who caused these changes. Which was why I couldn’t say a single word to offset the past. Rain drifted under my umbrella with the wind. My face and clothes were soaked. I touched my ear, hailed a yellow cab on the side of the street, and went to find someone to repair my hearing aid. Muffled thunder, like cotton-wrapped thuds, drifted into my ears. 4 Arthur was a good guy. Unwilling to let my hard work go to waste, he pulled a lot of strings to connect me with an independent film studio. They were willing to risk offending Noah to support me. Arthur set up a dinner meeting. If we struck a deal, I could get the check by next week. Unfortunately, on the night of the meeting, he got stuck in Manhattan rush-hour traffic. Leaving me sitting with a group of strangers in a VIP room at a high-end club. To make matters worse, Stella was there too. My hearing aid still hadn’t been fixed, so all night long, I had to carefully watch people’s lips to decipher what they were saying. Stella crossed her legs, swirling her martini. “Gentlemen, please don’t hold back with Miss Evans. She’d do absolutely anything for money.” A producer immediately chimed in, “Life is so hard, Miss Evans. Don’t you want an easier way out?” The remark drew a chorus of laughter. I kept my head down, picked up my wine glass, took a small sip, and remained silent. Arthur had gone to great lengths to arrange this meeting. His wife had just had a baby, their mortgage was high, and I couldn’t bear to let his hard work go to waste. As long as I waited for him to arrive, everything would be fine. Who knew their comments would only get more outrageous. “Spend the night with me, and I’ll—” A figure suddenly wedged himself between me and the producer, blocking my view. “You want her to spend the night doing what?” I looked up to see Noah throwing an icy remark across the table. Under the overhead lights, his features looked exceptionally cold and sharp. Why was he here? Stella’s smile vanished as she stood up. “Noah, what are you doing here?” The producer fell completely silent, forgetting how to even smile. “Mr… Mr. Sterling…” Noah grabbed my arm and started walking. Before I could even react, I was dragged out of the room. Stella’s face flushed with anxiety as she called out, “Noah… don’t be impulsive…” Her voice was quickly left behind. We walked unimpeded until I was thrown into the backseat of Noah’s Maybach. “How much do you want?” The icy words hit my ears like blocks of ice. The veins on the back of Noah’s hand, gripping the leather seat, bulged, betraying his rage. I stared at him blankly. “What?” He laughed out of pure anger, pulled a Centurion Black Card from his suit pocket, and threw it in front of me. “Tens of thousands? Hundreds of thousands? Millions? Swipe as much as you want. There’s absolutely no need for you to go begging to other people like a dog.” My heart felt like it was being pricked by needles. I wanted to explain. But how could I? I was definitely desperate for money. My life these past few years had ground away too much of my pride. In this country, there is nothing more terrifying than medical bills and poverty. “Didn’t you want money?” Noah gritted his teeth. “Is my money too dirty for you?” I picked up the black card, gripped it tightly, and futilely said: “I’m borrowing a hundred and fifty thousand dollars. I’ll pay you back.” I knew his black card held far more than $150,000; it was likely limitless. Noah’s face was stony. “Really? Remember your words.” “From now on, I expect to see money wired into my account every single month. If not, my legal team will contact you.” “So, you’d better not play hide-and-seek with me.” I clenched my jaw. “I’m not that kind of person.” “No?” Noah pressed closer. “Lily Evans, you have a criminal record with me.” The words stuck in my throat. I wanted to get out of the car, but Noah wouldn’t move. He leaned against the car door, cupped the side of my face with one hand, and forced me to look up. Forcing me to meet his eyes. “Now, let’s discuss the price.” I was stunned. “What price?” “Did you think I’d willingly let you use me again?” His freezing fingertips traced my cheek like a ruthless blade of ice. “Lily, you brought this on yourself. You didn’t show a single ounce of mercy back then.” “So, strictly business—” Noah’s final words were veiled in a layer of fog, pouring into my ears in a blurry hum. “Sign the prenuptial and marriage agreements, and I’ll give it to you.” 5 The Maybach cruised silently down Fifth Avenue. Noah didn’t let me out of the car. Because ten minutes ago, I had blurted out a lie on the spot. “I’m getting married.” Noah’s expression had turned exceedingly grim. He stared out the window at the gloomy sky without saying a word. It took him a long time to finally ask, “To whom?” I didn’t catch it clearly, so I looked up and stared at his lips. “Hmm? What?” Noah raised his eyes. “I asked you, who are you getting married to?” I opened my mouth but couldn’t formulate a coherent answer for a long time. A seasoned Wall Street shark, Noah possessed a ruthless eye. He asked calmly and coldly, “Time? Location? Do our college alumni know?” I couldn’t answer a single one of those questions. Noah’s eyelids twitched. “Lily, to hide from me, you don’t even bother rehearsing your lies?” “It’s none of your business.” “Sign this.” He suddenly tossed over a legal document. Printed boldly on the letter-sized paper were the words “Marriage Agreement.” My heart tightened as I read the clauses below. Did he… really not care? Almost all the clauses were in my favor. I wouldn’t even have to assume any marital debt. “I’m sorry, I can’t agree to this.” “Reason.” I pushed the contract back to him. “You and Stella—” Before I could finish, I saw a profoundly meaningful scrutiny on Noah’s face. “I thought you didn’t care?” “You disappeared completely all these years. Not a single word, not a single message on Twitter or Facebook to check up on me, right?” “So who I get engaged to, or what I think, why does that matter to you?” Actually, I really wanted to say that I had asked about him… But explaining it now would just be futile. Noah said, “Marrying Stella is the board of directors’ decision. I have no personal relationship with her.” “Lily, think this through.” His gaze was piercing. “Marry me, and you’ll get everything you want.” “Including hitting the New York Times Best Seller list, getting your novel adapted in Hollywood, and—” “Money.” At that moment, I finally understood why Noah had blacklisted me. When someone is pushed into a corner, they’re easier to control. He had always been a successful hunter. He simply wanted to force me out of hiding. “But what do you want to get out of this?” “You.” Noah’s tone was detached. “Don’t imagine the days ahead will be wonderful.” “The pain I experienced, I will return to you exactly as it was.” Actually, I had no reason to refuse. I desperately needed the money for my medical bills. I was willing to do it.

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When my college acceptance letters arrived, I sent a text to my online crush. “I can’t go to Harvard. Goodbye.” Then I turned around, enrolled at MIT, and blocked her number. Fast forward to my freshman year practicum. The graduate teaching assistant stood at the front of the class and called my name. “You. Come up to the board and solve this. I’ve taught you this before.” Me: “…” Are you kidding me?! Why the hell is the girl I met online, who desperately wanted me to go to Harvard, teaching my class at MIT?! During my junior year of high school, my grades took a massive nosedive. I was absolutely terrified I wouldn’t make the cut for MIT. Out of sheer desperation, I went online and started flirting with an older girl whose username was “Harvard Reject,” begging her to tutor me. She was sweet, considerate, and incredibly understanding. “Don’t worry. With me here, I guarantee you’ll get into Harvard.” I was flattered. “No, no, it doesn’t have to be Harvard.” Secretly, I was thinking: MIT is exactly what I want. “Tsk, what kind of attitude is that? You can doubt your own IQ, but don’t you dare insult my teaching abilities.” Me: “…” Yes, ma’am. I certainly didn’t dare doubt her. Because this girl actually knew her stuff. Under her rigorous tutoring, my grades didn’t just climb; they stabilized at the very top. On my final practice SAT, I scored a flawless 1600. I excitedly texted her to share the news. She was completely unfazed. “Mhm. That score should be enough to get you into Harvard.” It was definitely enough, but I didn’t want to go to Harvard. I had always dreamed of going to MIT. But over the year she spent tutoring me, I distinctly felt her bizarre, borderline obsessive fixation with Harvard. If she wasn’t obsessed, she wouldn’t have kept the username “Harvard Reject” for over a year. If I didn’t go to Harvard, would she be disappointed? Looking at her message, I decided to test the waters. “What if I don’t end up going to Harvard?” “Relax. You’ll definitely get in.” Well… She probably thought I was just having pre-college anxiety and was trying to comfort me. Because of that, I never brought up my dream of MIT again. The day before decision day, she texted me, telling me to relax. She was swamped with her graduate thesis and told me to just text her my final college decision once everything was official. Late spring rolled around, and the official acceptances came out. I had my pick of the litter. I could go to Harvard, or I could go to MIT. While I was agonizing over the decision, the MIT admissions office called my mom directly at three in the morning to confirm a massive scholarship package. So, she decisively chose MIT for me… Goodbye, Harvard. Getting into my dream school was amazing. But whenever I thought of the girl who had tutored me for an entire year, a wave of anxiety hit me. She had constantly pushed me toward Harvard. Choosing MIT felt like an ultimate betrayal. While I was stressing over how to break the news, her text came through. “Decisions are out, right? How did it go?” Look at that gentle, caring check-in. The guilt in my chest multiplied tenfold. I hardened my heart, gritted my teeth, and typed out a message. “I messed up. I can’t go to Harvard.” “…” She went silent. Before she could send a second message, I quickly fired off another: “I’m so sorry. Goodbye.” Then, I decisively blocked her number and went offline. After that, I completely lost contact with her. Even though it was just a fleeting, anonymous internet romance, when I arrived in Cambridge for my freshman year and walked past Harvard Yard, I couldn’t help but stop and stare. My roommate, Noah, asked me what was wrong. Seeing the lingering regret and longing in my eyes, I sighed. “Once upon a time, I was this close to going to Harvard.” “…” Noah rolled his eyes and dragged me toward the library to snag a seat. “Let me tell you a secret: every single MIT student who walks past this campus says the exact same thing. Hurry up, or the library is gonna be full.” Me: “…” Such a raw, unfiltered flex… Sure enough, by the time we got to the library, there were barely any seats left. Noah let out a groan of despair. “Are these people demons?! You already got into MIT, why are you still grinding this hard?!” At a glance, every table was packed. There were a few seats in the group study area, but after listening to the chaotic babble of five different languages being spoken at once, we decided the silent reading room was a much safer bet. “Hey, I see a spot! Over there!” Noah excitedly smacked my shoulder and sprinted over to negotiate. A few seconds later, he waved me over. “Ethan, hurry up, there’s room here.” I walked over just in time to catch the end of their conversation: “No problem at all. You guys freshmen?” “Yep!” Noah was smiling so hard his face was practically glowing. I glanced over and realized the person sitting across from us was an incredibly cute girl. I quietly sat down. The seat directly across from me was empty, but there was a textbook resting on the desk. “You should actually call me your senior. I’m a few years ahead of you guys. I’m in grad school now.” “Wow, you don’t look it at all! That’s awesome.” While I was busy wondering if the seat across from me was actually taken, Noah had already exchanged numbers with her. Once we settled in, silence fell over our section. I looked down at my textbook. A few minutes later, the lighting shifted as a delicate, floral scent drifted over the table. A slender silhouette pulled out the chair directly across from me and sat down. A whispered conversation immediately followed: “The professor dragged you into his office again?” “Yeah. There was a margin of error in one of the datasets. I had to recalculate the whole thing.” The first voice belonged to the girl who had let us sit there. The second voice, while unfamiliar, was incredibly melodic and soothing. I sneaked a glance upward. Sitting across from me was a breathtakingly pretty girl wearing thin, wire-rimmed glasses. She had straight, raven-black hair, porcelain skin, and long, dense eyelashes. Her eyes were exceptionally beautiful, almost like they were drawn straight out of an anime. Perhaps sensing my gaze, she looked up. The moment our eyes met, my breath literally hitched. She was stunning. But this anime-like girl merely gave me a cold, indifferent glance. Then, her eyes landed on the textbook resting in front of me, and a flash of surprise crossed her face. “Materials Science and Engineering? Is that your major?” Wait, she actually spoke to me? I nodded. I was a total STEM kid in high school. Thanks to my “Harvard Reject” tutor, my foundation was rock solid, so I declared this major the second I got to MIT. I didn’t know if I was imagining things, but the corners of her lips curled up ever so slightly. “Not bad.” While I was trying to figure out what she meant, the friendly girl sitting next to her chimed in: “What a coincidence! That’s our major too.” Ah, well, that is a coincidence. Direct upperclassmen. “Nice to meet you both.” I greeted them politely. The girl across from me just gave a faint “Mhm,” her demeanor immediately returning to freezing cold. “Don’t mind her, Emily is just like that,” her friend whispered with an apologetic smile. I smiled back, brushing it off. My major was notoriously brutal. The coursework was heavy, and the assignments were soul-crushing. It was another weekend. Noah and I were trapped in our dorm room, agonizing over a physical chemistry problem set. Finally, Noah let out a tortured wail. “I can’t do this anymore! Just kill me! How is this so damn hard?! I’ve recalculated it five times, and it’s wrong every single time!” Looking at the few strands of hair he had literally ripped from his own scalp, I genuinely felt bad for him. But there was nothing we could do. The difficulty spike from high school to college was a massive, vertical cliff. “Should we try asking someone else?” I suggested. “Ask who?” That was a very good question. The professor? We were way too intimidated. Our classmates? The guy sitting next to me was the literal state valedictorian, and he was currently tearing his hair out. While I was agonizing over it, a specific person popped into my head. My online tutor! If she were here, these problems would be an absolute breeze for her. But… I had already blocked and deleted her! If I had known I’d be suffering this much in college, I never would have acted so impulsively. Suddenly, Noah bolted upright from his desk like a zombie coming back to life. “I know who we can ask!” “Who?” “That grad student we met at the library! Chloe! I have her number! She’s in our major, she definitely knows how to do this.” Noah was a man of action. He immediately grabbed his phone and fired off a text. A minute later, he excitedly yanked me out of my chair. “Let’s go, let’s go! She said yes. We’re going to meet her right now.” Noah dragged me all the way to the research and laboratory building. “They’re running an experiment right now, we just have to wait a bit.” Not long after, people started trickling out of the lab. Soon enough, Chloe—the girl who had given us the seats—walked out and waved us inside. “Is it okay for us to just walk into the lab?” “The actual sterile lab is further in. This is just the briefing room, it’s totally fine.” Noah nodded eagerly and pulled me into an empty seat. Chloe sat across from Noah, and I sat next to him, just listening in. I have to admit, grad students really are built differently. Within minutes, Noah was nodding in absolute enlightenment. I was just about to ask a follow-up question. When the door to the briefing room swung open. The person who walked in stopped, and the three of us stared at each other in dead silence. “Oh, Emily, you’re back?” The girl standing in the doorway was the incredibly pretty, glasses-wearing senior from the library. Emily. Her cold eyes swept over Noah and me. Chloe quickly explained: “Oh, these are the freshmen we met at the library. They got stuck on a few problems, so they came by to ask for help.” “Mhm.” Her attitude was as freezing and distant as ever. Noah and I exchanged a quick glance. We read the exact same thought in each other’s eyes: What an ice queen. Noah pulled me up from the chair. “Well, uh, we got what we needed, so we’ll get out of your hair! Thanks so much, Chloe.” “No problem at all! Oh, by the way, our lab is actually looking for two undergraduate assistants. Are you guys interested?” Chloe suddenly asked. Noah and I both froze. I acutely noticed Emily furrow her brow. She was clearly not thrilled about the idea. I was just about to politely decline. When Noah blurted out, “We’d love to! Ethan, come here, exchange contact info with them so we can set it up.” Wait, why did I have to exchange info? Didn’t he already have Chloe’s number? While I was standing there in confusion, Noah practically shoved me forward, winking at me like a maniac.

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My Mother Said She Was a Systems Transmigrator. If She Couldn’t Make My Father Fall in Love With Her, She Would Be Erased. The kind of erased where your soul shatters and scatters completely. I secretly told my dad, but he just said, “Then let her die.” My mom heard him too. She didn’t cry. She just held me gently. Later, my mom really did die. But my cold, ruthless dad… he went insane. 1 Mom had been asleep for a very, very long time. It was time for me to go to preschool, but she still hadn’t woken up. I touched her arm. It was cold and stiff. Not warm and soft like usual. “Mommy, I’m hungry,” I shook her hard, but she didn’t open her eyes. She never used to be like this. Before, if I so much as whimpered, she would wake up instantly, pull me into her arms, and soothe me. But now, she was sleeping so deeply. I pulled the comforter up over her and climbed off the bed to get a phone to call Dad. Dad hadn’t been home for days. Our neighbor, Mrs. Miller, said his “first love” had gotten divorced and come back last month, and that Dad didn’t want Mom and me anymore. Mrs. Miller also said Mom looked a lot like this “first love,” and that Dad only married Mom because he saw her as a replacement. I didn’t know what a “first love” was, so I asked Mom. Mom stayed quiet for a long time before saying: “It’s someone you could never have; someone who belongs in the past.” I didn’t understand. I decided I didn’t like the past. Because it stole my dad. 2 To stop me from playing on her phone, Mom had set a passcode. I couldn’t use it to call Dad. I held the phone up to Mom’s face, but it didn’t unlock with Face ID like it usually did. I said to the phone, “Siri, I won’t watch cartoons in secret anymore. Please open, I need to call Dad.” But Siri ignored me. I went to knock on Mrs. Miller’s door, but no one was home. So, I climbed back onto the bed and lay next to Mom, just watching her. Mom was beautiful. Even asleep, she looked prettier than the fairy princesses on TV. Dad used to watch her sleep too. He would scoop her up from my bed and carry her to their room. He would nibble her neck like a puppy. Mom was terrified of dogs, but she never pushed him away. The next morning, Mom would always wake up late, rushing around the kitchen to make breakfast for me and Dad. Adults always say little kids don’t remember things, but I remember everything. I remember that no matter how chaotic the mornings were, Mom’s eyes were always smiling. But Dad never smiled. He would just sit there scrolling through his phone. After breakfast, he would head to his firm and drop me off at preschool on the way. The teachers at preschool loved it when Dad dropped me off. I heard them whispering that my dad was the most handsome dad of all—tall, rich, and looking like a movie star. They also said he was ice-cold and ignored everyone, and that he would be absolutely perfect if he were just a little warmer. I thought they were wrong. Leo’s dad was the best. Every time Leo’s dad dropped him off, he carried him on his shoulders. That was so cool. My dad just lifted me out of his SUV and told me to walk inside by myself. 3 I pulled a photo out of Mom’s hand. It was taken at an art museum a few days ago. Dad had plans and originally didn’t want to go with us, but Mom held him back. “Let’s just take one more picture. Lily can look at it when she grows up, otherwise… otherwise it’ll be too sad.” I saw tears welling in Mom’s eyes, but she held them back. Dad finally agreed. In the picture, Mom is holding me in my princess dress, leaning gently against Dad’s shoulder. Dad didn’t push her away; he just quietly let her lean on him. Out of the three of us, I was the only one smiling brightly. Last night before bed, Mom held me as we looked at this photo. She kissed my cheek and said, “I wish Mommy were more useful.” “Lily, you have to grow up brave. Never be afraid.” I rolled around in her arms happily. “Okay! I’ll grow up brave.” She smiled too, but her face was covered in tears. She cried a lot lately. She cried even more than I did. Later, as she rocked me to sleep, I vaguely heard her pleading with someone: “It’s not time yet, why are you here?… Just let me make one call to arrange things for my daughter… She’s only three, please…” I didn’t know who she was talking to. It was just the two of us at home. But I was so tired, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. When I woke up, Mom was lying next to me. The comforter had slipped off her, which was why her body was so cold. I held her hand in my small ones, hoping she would warm up. But she didn’t. 4 A while later, Mom’s phone rang. I reached for it, but the ringing stopped. The battery had died. I plugged the charger in, but the phone didn’t ring again. I was hungry. I pulled a small stepping stool over to open the fridge, but I could only reach a loaf of bread. I wanted to grab the milk from the top shelf, but the stool tipped over, and I fell hard. “Mommy, it hurts,” I cried, crawling back to her. Mom still didn’t wake up. She always used to be so terrified of me getting hurt. I cried until I fell asleep next to her. Then, in my dream, I heard Dad’s voice. No, not a dream. Dad had actually come home. I opened my eyes and heard the sound of the keypad lock chiming. The door opened, but Dad didn’t walk into the bedroom. I just heard his voice: “Lily’s preschool called and said she didn’t show up today. I came back to check. Don’t worry, it’s normal to feel like that after surgery. Ask your doctor about it, I’ll come see you soon.” He was on the phone. His tone was so gentle. He never spoke to me and Mom like that. With us, he was always flat, sometimes even cold. “Daddy!” I climbed off the bed and ran out. Dad frowned when he saw me. “Why aren’t you dressed? Where’s your mother?” I stopped, too scared to go closer. Standing by the bedroom door, I said softly, “Mommy is sleeping in bed.” He didn’t go check on her. He just spoke coldly toward the bedroom: “Mia, I’ll give you three more days to think about it. I’ll leave you this house and the cars. Sign the divorce papers quickly; it’s better for both of us.” Something fell to the floor inside the bedroom. I thought Mom had woken up and ran to look. It was just the phone slipping off the nightstand while charging. I ran back out to call Dad, but he had already taken the elevator down. I stood on my tiptoes, wanting to press the button and go after him. I wanted to tell him that Mom wouldn’t wake up. But Mom had told me little kids are absolutely never allowed to take the elevator alone. Once, I sneaked into the elevator and went down to the parking garage to play. Mom searched for me for so long and was crying so hard when she finally found me. I went back and lay down next to Mom. I didn’t want her to cry. When she cried, she looked so heartbroken, and she always hid so I wouldn’t see. I loved it when she smiled. 5 I finished the bread. Now all I had was water. But water didn’t stop the hunger, and Mom still hadn’t woken up. I figured Mom must be sick. When I was sick, I slept a lot too, but I always got better after Mom gave me medicine. I found the children’s Tylenol I took when I was sick and tried to feed it to Mom. She wouldn’t open her mouth, and it took a lot of effort to squeeze the syringe in. I got tired again and fell asleep snuggled against her. When I woke up, preschool had already let out. I squatted on the balcony and looked down. Leo was riding on his dad’s shoulders, and his dad was holding his mom’s hand. His mom looked a little chubby. Leo told me his mom wasn’t chubby; she was pregnant. He was going to have a little brother or sister soon. I wanted a little brother or sister too, so we could share toys and go to preschool together. When Mrs. Miller came over, she had told Mom, “Lily is three now. You and Ethan should have another one. The Sterling family only has him, and with his status, plenty of women will try to sink their claws in. Having another baby secures your position.” My mom had said, “A marriage held together by children isn’t a stable one. Plus, he’s been really busy at the firm lately.” Mrs. Miller laughed. “Busy? I saw you two getting cozy in his car down in the garage just last month…” “Emily,” my mom blushed and covered my ears. “Lily is right here.” Mrs. Miller waved it off. “It’s fine, kids don’t understand anyway.” She was right, I didn’t understand. After Mrs. Miller left, I kept asking Mom what she and Dad were doing in the car. Were they eating secret snacks without me? Instead of answering, Mom asked me, “Lily, do you want a little brother or sister?” I nodded vigorously. “Yes! Make one fast, Mommy! I want one tomorrow!” Mom touched my cheek. “That might be nice. With a brother or sister, you won’t ever be entirely alone.” Mom had told me she grew up as an orphan and was terrified of being lonely. She also told me that in her original world, she was incredibly sick and dying. A magical being called “The System” sent her here. As long as she could make Dad fall in love with her, she would get a healthy body and stay here forever with me and Dad. “Does Daddy love you?” I asked her. Mom didn’t answer. She seemed like she didn’t know either. 6 That night, Mom cooked a delicious dinner and tucked me into bed before Dad got home. But the moment Dad walked in, I woke up. I wanted to tell him that he absolutely had to love Mom so we could be together forever. I cracked my door open and saw Mom, wearing a beautiful red dress, pouring a glass of wine for Dad. My mom looked so gorgeous! But Dad pushed the glass away. “What, trying the same old trick again?” He was angry. Mom froze, and I felt a little scared. She put the bottle down nervously. “I… I don’t know what you mean.” Dad sneered. “Five years ago, you showing up at that bar… was it really just a coincidence?” “You just knew exactly what I needed at my lowest point, and you manipulated your way into my life.” Mom didn’t say a word. She just looked down, like she had done something wrong. Dad stood up. “I despise being used and lied to. We’re getting a divorce tomorrow. You keep this house and the cars, and you get full custody of Lily. I’ll give you a massive settlement, enough so neither of you will ever have to worry about money again.” I knew what divorce meant. Chloe’s parents from my class were divorced. She lived with her dad and said it was really hard to see her mom, no matter how much she missed her. Mom’s tears fell like shattered pearls. Dad offered no comfort. “Why are you crying? Isn’t this exactly what you plotted to get when you married me?” Mom shook her head. “No… I didn’t want any of this. Even if you didn’t have a dime… I just liked being with you.” Dad didn’t believe her. He walked out. Leaving Mom standing alone in the living room for a very, very long time. She whispered to herself, “You forgot. You were the one who held me tight and begged me not to go.” “You said you loved me. You said you loved me so much.” “That was the very first time… anyone ever loved me.”

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