Category: English

I was born with “pain transference.” My specialty is weaponized empathy. Whatever pain someone fakes in my presence, they feel for real. When a two-faced girl pretended I pushed her and cried about how much it hurt, the next second, she was screaming as if every bone in her body had shattered. When a con artist threw herself in front of my car, wailing that her back was broken, her vertebrae instantly dislocated, paralyzing her on the asphalt. Over time, people learned to treat me with a healthy dose of fear. No one dared to fake an illness or play the victim in my vicinity. Until, for the sake of a family merger, I was engaged to a brilliant, aloof maestro of surgery. At our engagement party, his “little sister” from med school clutched her stomach, her face slick with cold sweat as she cried. In front of the city’s medical elite, she clung to my fiancé’s sleeve and whimpered: “Julian, my stomach cancer… it’s flaring up. It hurts so much, please, save me.” The elegant ballroom fell silent. My fiancé removed his gloves. “Seraphina, Monica is in critical condition. The engagement party will have to wait.” “A doctor’s duty comes first. I can’t just stand by while a patient suffers.” The champagne flute in my hand paused mid-air. “I just did a full-body scan on you. Turns out, you’re telling the truth. In that case, you can just drop dead.” “Your cancer cells have just metastasized. The pain has been magnified tenfold. You’re going to die in agony.” 1 For the sake of a dynastic union, I was engaged to Dr. Julian Barclay, a brilliant and aloof surgical prodigy. He was the youngest chief surgeon in the medical community, his future limitless. Our two families were titans, and the engagement party was a lavish affair. Everyone who was anyone in the city was there. I stood in the center of the grand hall, wearing a couture gown, my arm linked with Julian’s. Everyone said we were a match made in heaven. Just as we were about to exchange engagement rings, the doors were thrown open. A frail girl in a white dress stumbled in. It was Monica, Julian’s junior from medical school. Her face was as white as her dress. Clutching her stomach, she rushed towards us. In front of hundreds of guests, she grabbed Julian’s sleeve, tears instantly streaming down her face, her skin glistening with a cold sweat. “Julian, my stomach cancer… it’s flaring up. It hurts so much, please, save me.” The entire hall fell silent. Every eye was fixed on the three of us. I looked at Monica’s pathetic, damsel-in-distress act and sneered inwardly. Stomach cancer? Just yesterday, I saw her post a picture on Instagram of herself devouring a spicy hot pot. Today, she was having a terminal cancer flare-up? Julian’s cool, indifferent expression shattered. He didn’t hesitate to pull his arm from mine, turning to support Monica. “Monica, what happened? Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Monica sagged into his arms, breathing weakly. “Julian, I know today is a big day for you. I didn’t want to bother you. But it hurts so much, I feel like I’m going to die. I just wanted to see you one last time.” Her speech was so heartfelt, so moving, that a few of the guests actually started dabbing their eyes. Julian’s own eyes reddened. He pulled the engagement ring, the one meant for me, from his finger and tossed it unceremoniously onto a nearby table. “Seraphina, Monica is in critical condition. The engagement party will have to wait. A doctor’s duty comes first. I can’t just stand by while a patient suffers.” He didn’t even offer me an apology before sweeping Monica into his arms, ready to leave. I paused, my champagne flute held steady. I watched Monica, nestled in his embrace, shoot me a triumphant, provocative smirk. Fine. You want to play games? I swirled the champagne in my glass and spoke, my voice calm and deliberate. “I just did a full-body scan on you. Turns out, you’re telling the truth. In that case, you can just drop dead. Your cancer cells have just metastasized. The pain has been magnified tenfold. You’re going to die in agony.” Julian stopped in his tracks and glared at me. “Seraphina, what the hell are you talking about? Monica is already so sick, and you’re cursing her? How can you be so vicious?” The moment he finished speaking, a bloodcurdling shriek ripped from Monica’s throat. “AAAAAHHH!” The sound was so piercing it seemed to shatter the crystal chandeliers. Monica thrashed out of Julian’s arms, crashing to the floor. She curled into a ball, clutching her stomach like a boiled shrimp, her white dress instantly soaked with sweat. She writhed on the ground, her head banging against the marble. “It hurts! It hurts so much! Somebody help me! My stomach is exploding! My insides are on fire!” She screamed, clawing at her own belly, her nails digging bloody furrows into her skin. Julian was horrified. He dropped to his knees, trying to restrain her. “Monica! What’s wrong?” Lost to the pain, Monica bit down hard on his wrist. Julian grunted in pain but refused to let her go. He looked up at me, his eyes blazing with fury. “Seraphina! What did you do to her?” I stood my ground, looking down on them. “What could I do? Didn’t she say she has terminal stomach cancer? This is what a flare-up looks like. Surely a great doctor like you would know that.” The guests began to whisper. “That girl’s screams… they don’t sound fake.” “Could she really have terminal cancer?” “How tragic.” Julian no longer had time to argue with me. Monica’s eyes were rolling back in her head, foam flecked her lips, and her breathing grew ragged. “Monica, hang on! I’m taking you to the hospital right now!” Ignoring the bite on his wrist, he scooped her up and ran for the door. At the threshold, he turned back, his gaze pinning me. “Seraphina, if anything happens to Monica, I will make you pay.” I just smiled coldly and drained my champagne. “Let’s be clear, Julian. You’re the one who publicly abandoned me for another woman. As of now, our engagement is void. You’re not breaking it off. I am.” Julian froze for a second, then snarled, “Fine! I wouldn’t want a cold-blooded woman like you anyway!” And with that, he was gone. Dead silence filled the ballroom. Everyone stared at me. I set down my glass, walked onto the stage, and took the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, my apologies, but the engagement party is canceled. Please, eat, drink, and enjoy the rest of the evening. It’s all on my tab.” Then, I gathered the skirt of my gown and walked out, leaving a sea of stunned faces behind me. I knew with absolute certainty: Monica was a dead woman. My power of pain transference had never once failed. If she dared to fake terminal cancer, I would make her experience it for real. Magnified by ten. 2 Julian rushed Monica to his own hospital, City Central, straight into the emergency room. Her screams echoed through the entire ER. He pulled some strings and ordered an emergency full-body CT scan. He stood in the control room, his eyes glued to the monitor. When the images appeared, the attending physician gasped. “Dr. Barclay… this… this is impossible!” Julian shoved the doctor aside. On the screen was a massive, irregularly bordered tumor in her stomach. But that wasn’t all. Her liver, lungs, even her bones were riddled with metastatic lesions. It was real. Stage-four stomach cancer, spread throughout her entire body. Incurable. Julian’s legs gave out, and he nearly collapsed. “How can this be? She had a full physical just last month at this very hospital. All her markers were normal!” The physician sighed. “The images don’t lie. With this level of metastasis, she has three months to live, at most.” From the ER, Monica’s screams continued unabated. They gave her painkiller after painkiller, but even the highest dose of morphine couldn’t touch the pain. She had ripped the bedsheets to shreds. Julian burst into her room, grabbing her hand. “Monica, don’t be afraid. I’m the best surgeon there is. I will save you!” Ignoring the other doctor’s advice, he scheduled an emergency surgery. He was going to open her up and cut the tumor out himself. The operating light flickered on. Julian scrubbed in, scalpel in hand. The moment he made the first incision, he despaired. Her abdominal cavity was filled with cancerous fluid and nodules. Her stomach was a necrotic, pulpy mess. There was nothing to cut, nowhere to start. His celebrated surgical skill was a joke. Julian’s hands began to tremble, and the scalpel clattered to the floor. He leaned against the operating table, buried his face in his hands, and broke down sobbing. Meanwhile, I had returned to the Vance family estate. The moment I walked in, a teacup flew past my head, shattering at my feet. My father was on the sofa, his face crimson with rage. “You insolent girl! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Calling off the engagement in front of all those people! What about the Barclay family’s dignity? What about our family’s dignity?” I looked at him coldly. “Julian abandoned me for another woman. Did you want me to get on my knees and beg him to stay?” My father slammed his hand on the table and shot to his feet. “She was a patient! Julian is a doctor! Saving lives is his duty! Not only did you show no understanding, you said those vicious things! You will go to the hospital right now, apologize to Julian, and apologize to that girl!” I stood my ground. “No.” He pointed a trembling finger at me. “If you don’t go, you are no longer my daughter!” When I still didn’t move, he clutched his chest, his body swaying. “You… you’re trying to kill me! Oh, my heart… I think I’m having a heart attack!” He collapsed onto the sofa, gasping for air. My mother rushed to his side, then turned to me. “Seraphina! Are you trying to give your father a heart attack?” I looked at my father’s clumsy performance and sneered. He got a full physical twice a year; his heart was as strong as an ox. And now he was pulling this stunt to make me back down. I walked over to the sofa. “A heart attack, is it? It’s very painful. Are you sure you want one?” My father faltered for a second, then cried out even louder. “You ungrateful child! You really are giving me a heart attack!” I nodded. “Alright. As you wish.” Instantly, the color drained from my father’s face. His eyes flew open, his hands clawing at his chest. His lips, once ruddy, turned a sickening shade of blue. He gasped, but no sound came out, only a rattling in his throat. He tumbled off the sofa, his body convulsing on the floor. My mother was stunned. “Honey? Honey, what’s wrong? Don’t scare me!” My father’s eyes had rolled back. He was unconscious. I calmly took out my phone and dialed 911. “Yes, Vance Estate. We have a case of acute myocardial infarction. Bring a defibrillator. Hurry.” Fifteen minutes later, the ambulance arrived. The paramedics performed CPR on the spot. “No heartbeat! Charging! Clear!” Thump! My father’s body arched off the floor. It took three shocks to get a faint, thready pulse. The paramedics, sweating, loaded him onto a gurney. “Family needs to come now! We could lose him any second!” My mother followed, crying. As she left, she shot me a look of pure terror. She had suddenly remembered my terrifying “gift,” my “crow’s beak” that had followed me since childhood. The house fell silent. The maids hid in corners, not daring to breathe. I sat on the sofa and poured myself a cup of tea. Faking an illness? In my presence, no one gets away with it.

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During our annual leave, my husband and I went abroad for our honeymoon. Coincidentally, a new virus broke out—infection meant death within three months. Desperate, and due to my specialized profession, I received the only two return tickets available. I touched my belly, where my child was less than three months old, and excitedly told my husband, “Liam, we don’t have to die.” But on the day we were supposed to leave, Liam said, “I gave the tickets to Sienna. She’s seven months pregnant.” Sienna was the one he’d loved and lost in his youth, his “white moonlight.” For the sake of the baby in my belly, I knelt and begged him to get the tickets back. He hesitated for a second, then coldly refused me. “Sienna and her baby need those tickets more. Your baby is only a month along; it doesn’t count as a life yet!” In the end, I watched helplessly as he took Sienna and boarded the plane, while I, and the child in my womb, died in a foreign land. When I reopened my eyes, I found myself holding two tickets! 1. Half an hour ago, I had called the embassy and, due to my specialized background, had secured these two sole tickets. Memories of my past life flashed before my eyes like a film. They stopped at the scene of me, connected to a ventilator, dying in despair on a cold hospital bed. My body turned to ashes, scattered with thousands of other deceased souls on foreign soil. When I returned to the hotel, it was twenty minutes earlier than in my previous life. I overheard Liam on the phone in the bathroom. “Sienna, don’t be afraid. I’ll find a way to get tickets.” “For the sake of our unborn baby, you must be strong. You’re a strong mother. Trust me, I won’t let you or the baby die.” Liam’s voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. From the other end of the line came intermittent sobs. “Oh, Liam, thank you for still being so good to me. If I hadn’t been born into such a parasitic family, I never would have left you.” Then Sienna’s voice turned a bit sour. “By the way, Liam, are you in Florence for your honeymoon this time?” Liam hummed, then eagerly added, “But also to see you. I heard you got divorced, and I was worried about you being alone.” I gripped the tickets, sitting on the sofa, and scoffed. So, among all those countries, Liam’s insistence on coming to Florence was for Sienna. It was laughable that before we left, he’d given the reason that Florence was a romantic city and he wanted to give me a romantic trip. Only now, reliving it, did I realize it was all a lie. The doorknob to the bathroom turned, and Liam saw me. A flicker of panic crossed his eyes, but he quickly composed himself. He smiled and sat beside me, wrapping his arms around me intimately, as he always did, burrowing into my embrace. “Honey, when did you get back?” Our bodies were pressed tightly together, but I no longer felt the warmth I once did. Instead, a chill seeped into my bones. I pushed him away, calmly saying, “I just got back and sat down when you came out.” He didn’t think much of it, nor did he notice my changed demeanor. Instead, he let out a sigh of relief, then his voice dropped. “Honey, if we can’t leave this time, I’ll die with you.” I said nothing, but scoffed inwardly. With Sienna, he was careful to comfort her and promise she wouldn’t die. With me, he said he could die with me, yet in the previous life, he took the ticket and boarded the plane with Sienna. I still remember how he resolutely flung my hand away, feigning agony as he said, “Eleanor, I’m an only child, and I come from a single-parent home. If I die, my mother won’t survive. But don’t worry, I’ll treat your parents as my own.” 2. But he seemed to forget, my parents only had me, and I was their late-in-life child. My name is Eleanor Vance. My parents said they hoped I would be as precious as pure gold, that my name embodied all their love. Who isn’t a treasure in their parents’ hands? Even now, I can’t bear to imagine how my parents, nearing seventy, would spend their old age if I were gone. After dinner with Liam, he excused himself to go downstairs for a cigarette to clear his head. I stood silently by the window, watching him hail a taxi and drive away. In the empty hotel room, the news reported the daily updated death toll: “Today, twenty-one deaths from infection…” The presenter’s voice was cold as she recited the numbers, but I knew deeply how painfully those lives behind the statistics awaited death. On the first day of infection, the entire body would itch. On the second, rashes would break out everywhere. Those rashes would be painful and itchy, oozing pus. On the third day, internal organs would feel like they were being gnawed away. This agonizing pain would not subside until the very moment of death! Thinking of this, I touched my belly and said softly, “Good baby, next life, choose a good father and mother. I can’t… keep you. Mommy doesn’t want you to be born into an incomplete family!” After all, Mommy also came from a complete and loving family. Mommy hopes you can have that double portion of love too! Before I knew it, I had fallen asleep. I woke up to the sound of my phone ringing. I saw it was my father calling. As soon as I answered, my father’s choked voice came through the line. “Hello, Eleanor, I saw the news that a virus broke out in Florence, and all flights are grounded. My dear daughter, don’t be afraid. Dad will buy a ticket and come to be with you.” Then, from the other end of the line, came my mother’s suppressed sobbing. “Old man, I’m going too. Buy my ticket as well. You think you’re the only one who misses our daughter? Don’t I?” “Your health isn’t good. Just wait for good news at home, I’ll bring our daughter back safely.” “No, if she comes back, we come back together. If not, it’s better to die together.” Hearing my usually gentle parents argue over me, my eyes silently welled up with tears on my end of the phone. To keep them from worrying, I suppressed my choked voice and quickly said, “Mom and Dad, don’t worry. I called the embassy, and the country gave me return tickets. I’ll be back tomorrow.” My mother, hearing this, quickly snatched the phone. “Really? That’s wonderful! Your father and I will go to the airport to pick you up tomorrow.” I wiped away my tears and smiled. “No, I have a mission when I return home this time. Just rest assured at home and wait for me to come back.” After hanging up, I realized Liam had returned at some point. He looked at me with delight. “Eleanor, you got the tickets, didn’t you?” I had told him when I called the embassy. Now that I think about it, his confident words to comfort Sienna were probably based on the assumption that I would get the tickets. Since he knew, I no longer concealed it, but when I spoke, I deliberately said, “I got the tickets, but there’s only one.” Hearing this, the hopeful light in his eyes instantly dimmed. After a few seconds of silence, he frowned, anxious. “One? How could they only give one? Didn’t you tell them you have family?” “Talk to them again, ask them to make an exception. Someone like you, an unsung hero, couldn’t possibly only get one ticket, could they?” He was right, of course. Life-saving tickets were meant for partners and family. So when I explained the situation to the embassy, they gave me two return tickets without hesitation. But now, faced with Liam’s questioning, I still insisted, “At times like this, tickets are even more scarce. Most of those who can board planes now are the pillars of the country, serving our nation.” He remained noncommittal to my words. Seeing his silence, I deliberately asked, “Honey, don’t you want me to return home? You must know how many lives my identity could save if I returned.” He snapped back to reality, forcing a smile. “I… of course I want you to go back.” Late at night, I pretended to be asleep. Sure enough, he quietly searched for the tickets. I hadn’t deliberately hidden the tickets; they were just in a box on the nightstand. But I had hidden my own ticket. Liam, knowing beforehand that I had only secured one ticket, didn’t suspect anything. With the ticket in hand, he immediately went to the bathroom and made a call. “Sienna, I got the ticket from Eleanor. You can go through the special channel and board the plane tomorrow.” “Really? Oh, Liam, that’s wonderful! Now my baby and I won’t die!” Liam heard the laughter from the other end of the line and joined in her joy. After a moment of excitement, Sienna suddenly remembered something and quickly asked, “Liam, are you coming with me? I want… I want you to be my baby’s father.” If it were the previous life, Liam would have jumped for joy, because this was the lifelong regret he couldn’t overcome. But at this moment, knowing there was only one ticket, he said bitterly, “Sienna, don’t worry about me. If I survive, I’ll definitely come back to marry you.” “Eleanor, such a talented person, wouldn’t only get one ticket, would she? You can talk to her, tell her to give you her ticket first. After you and I leave together, the country, valuing her abilities, should give her another one.” I secretly listened to their conversation. So that was her plan. She still wanted to fly off with him, leaving me to die in a foreign land, just like in the previous life! At this moment, Liam, having heard her words, could only say helplessly, “Eleanor only managed to get one ticket, but don’t worry, I might not die. Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to live until a cure is found.” Sienna suddenly started crying after hearing this. Liam comforted her tenderly for a while before coming back to sleep. After turning off the light, Liam held me and whispered behind me, “I’m sorry, Eleanor. I… I’ll be with you, even in death. Let it be my atonement to you!” A chill spread through me. My heart ached as if pricked by needles. Liam and I, though we met through an arranged marriage, After marriage, he was caring, gentle, and romantic, fulfilling all my expectations for a husband. I gradually fell in love with him. When I heard all flights were grounded, I had even thought of dying with him, but his love and his true heart had never been given to me! Since that was the case, in this life, let him bear the pain of separation by death himself! The next day, when I woke up, Liam was nowhere to be seen.

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While tidying up, I found the newly bought pack of sanitary pads had been opened. Without a moment’s hesitation, I had my lawyer draft the divorce papers and send them to Alexander Prescott. His call came almost immediately. “Another tantrum? What’s it this time?” I bit my lip, my voice cold. “A pad is missing from the pack in my drawer.” “Fine. Have it your way,” Alexander’s voice was a cocktail of anger and impatience. “Just don’t come crawling back when you regret it!” The line went dead. Regret? Never. My only regret was being blind for so long, and allowing the woman who once took the business world by storm to suffer years of humiliation. … I was packing my suitcase when Isabelle ran in, tears streaming down her face. She was Alexander’s current assistant, and his first love, the one that got away. “Sera, I’m so sorry. I came by to drop off some files for Alex the other day, and I got my period unexpectedly. I just borrowed one of your pads,” she sobbed. “I never thought it would cause such a misunderstanding. Please, don’t divorce him. If you do, I’ll never be able to clear my name.” Listening to her half-hearted apology, a cold smile touched my lips. “If I don’t divorce him, how am I supposed to make room for you?” Isabelle’s voice hitched. “Sera, how can you say that? I never wanted to interfere in your marriage, I…” “You didn’t want to,” I cut her off, “or you couldn’t?” Years ago, when the Prescott family was searching for a bride for Alexander among the city’s elite debutantes, Isabelle, as the illegitimate daughter of the Miller family, was the first to be dismissed. Now, seven years later, the Miller family was bankrupt. Her return was only possible under the guise of being his assistant, a way to get close to him again. Isabelle cried even more pitifully. “If you won’t believe me, then I’ll just resign, alright?” “Suit yourself.” I threw Alexander’s earlier words back at her and went back to my packing, ignoring her completely. In the two years since Isabelle joined the company, I’d threatened divorce as many times as she’d threatened to quit. Now that the divorce was real, she was still playing the same old card: feigning retreat to gain sympathy. Alexander had long grown tired of my “jealous antics,” yet he remained utterly defenseless against her damsel-in-distress act. “Sera, please don’t go. Please don’t divorce Alex,” she cried, her voice tragic and innocent. She grabbed my arm, shaking it dramatically like some heroine in a soap opera. “Hit me, if it will make you feel better. Just please, stop being angry.” With that, she pulled my hand towards her own face. I watched her clumsy performance, my brow furrowed as I began a silent countdown. Ten, nine, eight… Before I even reached seven, Alexander’s frantic figure burst into the room. “Stop it!” he roared at me. “Seraphina, you’ve gone too far!” “Isabelle was our classmate, for God’s sake! How could you hit her?” Just like every other time, Alexander arrived right on cue, convicting me without a trial. I shook my head and gave a bitter laugh. His hero-saving-the-damsel routine was certainly getting more polished. I set down my luggage and rose slowly. First, I turned to Alexander. “If your eyes are failing you, Alex, make an appointment with an optometrist.” “Hit her? I wouldn’t want to dirty my hands.” “You…” His own words caught in his throat. I then turned to Isabelle. “If I remember correctly, I didn’t hear a knock, nor did I get up to open the door.” I stared directly into her eyes. “So, please tell me, how did you get in?” Her face went pale, and she stumbled, nearly falling. A strong arm caught her by the waist. Alexander steadied her, his voice laced with concern, before turning back to me with a glare. “Isabelle is my assistant. I gave her the password to the door for work. What, are you going to nitpick about every little thing now?” His eyes were filled with contempt. “Your jealousy is suffocating, Seraphina.” The word hit me like a lightning strike. I stood frozen. He thought I was suffocating? Wasn’t the suffocating part the way Isabelle had infiltrated our marriage over the past two years, with his silent approval and indulgence? It was invasive, and it knew no bounds. It started with dropping off files, then moved to casually staying for dinner, then overnight. Using my personal clothes without asking, taking my sanitary pads. The list of “little things” was endless. Our marriage for two had become a movie for three. And I was the extra. I blinked back the tears and looked up at Alexander. “Since this marriage is causing both of us so much pain, let’s just sign the papers and end it.” He frowned, pushing the divorce agreement aside. “Alright, stop making a scene.” “Apologize to Isabelle, and we’ll let this go. We can all still be good friends.” Hearing the word “friends” from his mouth again dredged up a flood of painful memories. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “I, Seraphina Vaughn, would rather die alone than be friends with someone who bullied me!” An apology? Not in this lifetime. Back in school, I had hidden my family’s wealth to try and fit in. That decision made me a target for Isabelle. On the first day, she threw my books and backpack into a filthy pond behind the school. My uniform pants were slashed with a knife. Later, under pressure from my family, the school forced Isabelle to make a public apology and was about to expel her. It was Alexander who convinced me. “Come on, Sera. Let it go. She knows she was wrong, just forgive her.” Blinded by my love for him, I endured the humiliation, shook her hand, and even asked the school to let her stay. Looking back, his bias towards her started back then. I was just too in love to see it. Isabelle’s face grew even paler, tears falling like broken pearls. “I was wrong. I overstepped. I shouldn’t have presumed on our past friendship to try and be your friend.” Her voice was a pathetic whisper. “I forgot that I’m just a lowly employee at your company now. I’m worthless. I’ll leave.” Alexander’s eyes instantly reddened. He pulled Isabelle behind him, shielding her as he yelled at me. “I gave you the title of Mrs. Prescott so you could have dignity, not so you could bully people!” He turned back to Isabelle, patting her trembling shoulder. “Don’t say that about yourself, Isabelle. In my heart, you’ve never been just an employee.” He gazed at the fragile woman before him, his eyes burning with passion. “You have always been the most special person to me.” Watching my legal husband declare his undying love for another woman, I didn’t fly into a rage as I usually would. I just felt a deep, chilling cold. With her degree from some no-name university abroad, Isabelle was nowhere near qualified to be the assistant to the CEO of Prescott Corp. It was Alexander who had overruled everyone to keep her. He gave her an unheard-of salary and a unique brand of favoritism, one that pushed his own wife to the sidelines. She called him “Mr. Prescott” but called me by my first name. She claimed it was a sign of closeness, but it was clear she thought I wasn’t worthy of the Mrs. Prescott title. I could handle her thinking that, but I never imagined Alexander felt the same way. The absurdity of it all was laughable. Me, the sole heiress of Vaughn Industries, needing the “Mrs. Prescott” title to throw my weight around? The regret for the proud woman I had lost to love was sharp and painful. In that moment, the last flicker of hope for my marriage was extinguished. “Alexander, sign the divorce papers soon,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “Don’t force me to take this to court.” With that, I picked up my suitcase and walked out without a backward glance. When I walked through the door of my family home, my parents were excitedly watching a travel show about the Northern Lights. They quickly turned off the TV when they saw me. Traveling the world had always been their dream, but their only daughter was a fool for love, so obsessed with a man that she refused to come home and take over the family business. I walked over, took the remote out of the drawer, and turned the TV back on. Then I pulled out my phone and booked two tickets to Finland. But they didn’t smile with the surprise I expected. They just looked at me with worry in their eyes. I knew I couldn’t hide it. “We’re… getting a divorce,” I said, the words falling into the sudden silence of the vast living room. After a long moment, my parents came over and gently took my hands. “Whatever you decide, we support you. We just want you to be happy.” “Your mother and I are always your safety net.” My eyes welled up, and the years of pent-up sorrow came pouring out with my tears. They had been against my marriage to Alexander from the start, but they had relented because of my desperate pleas. I squeezed my father’s hand and then took my mother’s, our three hands clasped together. I forced a smile. “Don’t worry. I’m fine.” They weren’t convinced. They insisted I change my flight from the next day to a week later, so they could spend more time with me. At their suggestion, I booked a family portrait session, an annual tradition that had always been the highlight of our year. After marrying Alexander, I had invited him many times, but he always declined, citing work. The next morning, we arrived at the photo studio early, only to see a familiar figure: Alexander. Isabelle was with him. She was leaning on his shoulder, her eyes sparkling. “Alex, thank you for canceling that important meeting to come take pictures with me.” Alexander smiled and gently tapped her nose. “You silly girl. You’re the most important person to me. Who else would I spoil?” A bitter taste filled my mouth. So, it was never about being busy. It was about me not being worthy of his time. “Sera, what are you looking at?” my mother asked. “Nothing, I thought I saw someone I knew,” I said, turning to block her view and guiding her away. Inside the studio, I held my father’s hand on one side and linked arms with my mother on the other, smiling like a carefree child. Click! The photographer captured the warm, happy moment. In that instant, I felt reborn. I had found what was most important in my life again. “Oh,” my mother had just stepped out to use the restroom when my father suddenly clutched his stomach, his face contorted in pain. “What’s wrong? Is it your stomach again?” I helped him to a nearby lounge and simultaneously called our family doctor and 911. While we waited for the ambulance, Isabelle appeared. “So this is why you were so willing to divorce Alex,” she sneered. “You found yourself a new sugar daddy.” Her greedy eyes scanned my father from head to toe. “This old geezer might have some class, but he’s ancient. He’s nothing compared to Alex.” She clicked her tongue. “Tsk, tsk. I’m impressed you can even bring yourself to touch him for money.” My father understood immediately who she was, the woman who had destroyed my marriage. He struggled to get up, to defend my honor, but a sharp pain sent him collapsing back onto the sofa. Seeing my father’s agony, I snapped. I marched over to her and slapped her hard across the face. CRACK! “Watch your filthy mouth,” I snarled. “That’s my father!”

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My DINK husband and I had both retired. Just as we were planning a world tour together, he suddenly laid down his cards. “I’ve publicly claimed to be DINK for thirty years for you, but now it’s time to bring my two children, who’ve been living elsewhere, home!” I had expected this, though, and smiled meaningfully. He thought I was crazy and continued, “It’s natural for a man to carry on his lineage. If you couldn’t have children, I could play along with the DINK pretense. But now, I need to give my children an explanation!” He proposed divorce, wanting to take his son and daughter, along with their mother, on a family trip. I immediately agreed, graciously stepping aside and leaving. 1. The DINK Dilemma After news of the divorce spread, everyone felt sorry for me. An elderly neighbor, empathizing, said, “At this age, to be abandoned by her husband… a bleak old age, how tragic.” “Charles Reynolds, that old scoundrel, what a jerk! Back then, he swore they’d never have kids, just live a life for two. Now look, his own son and daughter are old enough to give him grandkids!” A young college student from the same complex fumed on my behalf. Chatting with old friends, they couldn’t help but lament, “You were so brilliant in your youth, successful in your career, living so freely. But you had to be DINK, and now you’re old and lonely…” My parents also tried to persuade me, “As long as you don’t divorce, his children are your children. They’ll still care for you in your old age. When we’re gone, we’ll have peace of mind.” They all thought I was forced into divorce, that I was heartbroken, that I was facing a lonely old age, having lived my life as a joke. I didn’t explain, nor did I bother to refute them one by one. How our situation truly played out, they would eventually learn when the time was right. Charles, on the other hand, was basking in his glory. He posted a family photo on social media with the caption: “From today on, I finally have a real family.” In the photo, he stood in the middle, with a young man and woman flanking him, their faces beaming with undisguised vigor. And the woman who could carry on his lineage held his arm, smiling sweetly and demurely. The family of four looked happy and warm—this was probably the domestic bliss Charles had always yearned for. It was as if the years he spent with me had never existed, as if they had always been this small family unit. “Look at that, now that’s a life winner,” someone commented. Yes, Charles had won big. In his youth, he enjoyed a life for two with me, living freely for decades, never enduring the hardship of late-night feedings or diaper changes. Yet in his old age, he now had a son and a daughter, to dote on him. How could he not be considered a life winner? Now that he was finally retired, his career and reputation wouldn’t be affected. He could at last legitimize the woman he’d kept hidden for decades, welcome his children home, and experience the warmth of family. And I, at my age, abandoned by my husband, left to face a lonely and unsupported fate, would inevitably draw sighs of pity. But they didn’t know that I had been prepared all along. This marriage was never a one-sided act. 2. The Farewell Home The divorce proceedings went quickly, almost too quickly for me to fully grasp. Charles personally drove me to the registry office. When signing the papers, his hand didn’t tremble at all. Instead, it seemed as if a burden had finally been lifted, making his movements quick and decisive. He smiled at the clerk and said, “Can’t be helped. We’re both old now, and the love just died. But thankfully, I have a son and a daughter to keep me company, so I’ll still enjoy some family happiness.” The clerk looked at me apologetically, her eyes full of sympathy and comfort. I smiled back but didn’t say anything. After the divorce, he waved his hand, hiring people to clear out the bedroom I’d lived in for over thirty years. He was impatient to bring Elaine and his two children home. I didn’t fight or argue, didn’t even bother to hire a lawyer. I simply took my half of the savings and a few important personal items, then decisively moved out. On the day Elaine moved in, I returned to pack up the last few things. The front door opened, and I immediately saw brand new photos displayed in the living room. My wedding photo with Charles had been replaced. In its place was a family portrait of the four of them. Charles sat in the middle, Elaine linked arms with him, and two young, similar-looking adults stood on either side, appearing to be in their twenties, full of youthful spirit. When they saw me enter, the lively atmosphere instantly chilled, as if to declare their unwelcome. Elaine, however, smiled and called out, “Oh, Anya, did you forget something? Let me help you find it.” She completely took on the air of a hostess greeting a guest. “Just a few last things. I’m taking them all today,” I said calmly. Charles sat on the sofa, head still down, casually flipping through a newspaper, as if waiting for me to take the hint and leave. Sarah and Tom stood to the side, their eyes filled with undisguised distance and wariness, treating me like a strange intruder. “Mom, this house’s decor looks a bit old, doesn’t it? The living room is a bit dark. Why don’t we redecorate and change the style?” Sarah said casually. “Yeah, the sofa needs replacing too. It’s so dated. How did Dad manage to live in a place like this?” Tom chimed in. I listened to their nitpicking, watching Charles remain silent, and felt a slight urge to laugh. This was the home Charles and I had lived in for thirty years. Every piece of furniture had been meticulously chosen, yet now they were deemed worthless. Elaine intimately linked arms with Charles. “See how opinionated the children are? This house needs a complete overhaul. We can’t shortchange ourselves.” Charles finally slowly raised his head and glanced at me. “Anya, are your things packed? Take everything at once. No need to keep coming back for this and that. It saves everyone the awkwardness.” His meaning was clear: once I left this time, don’t come back, don’t be an eyesore to their family of four. I averted my gaze, picked up the bag I’d just packed, and stood at the doorway, taking one last look at this house that had once been mine. Elaine was delicately leaning on Charles, peeling an orange. Her two children sat side-by-side on the sofa, watching TV. The three of them laughed and chatted occasionally. It was as if this home had always been this way, made up of their family of four, with no place for me. Charles’s gaze towards Elaine held the respect for the mother of his two children, the guilt for keeping her hidden all these years. As for me, I was merely an old woman they both found irritating, without children or grandchildren to support me, destined to fend for myself. A cold laugh echoed in my heart. Fine. Since you want to drive me away, I’ll leave decisively. So you can fully enjoy this fleeting charade. Because in a few days, it will be you all hating and fighting each other. I turned and left the house without looking back. 3. The Lonely Sunset After the divorce, I moved into an apartment, not far from my old home, but now two different worlds. I didn’t feel any particular difficulty adjusting. Without Charles at home, I found a sense of peace. But outsiders didn’t see it that way. “No matter how capable and free-spirited you were in your youth, you still lost in the end.” This was the common opinion among my friends and relatives. My mother, seeing me, couldn’t help but wipe away tears: “Anya, you’re living alone now, no one to take care of you. What if you fall ill someday?” “Before, when you said DINK, you meant DINK. You insisted on it. Now what? How wonderful it would be to have a child, at least you wouldn’t have ended up like this.” My father sighed, his face full of regret: “We really shouldn’t have let you have your way back then. If we had tried harder to persuade you, you wouldn’t be living like this now.” All their words implicitly blamed my insistence on being DINK for losing my husband’s heart. The most ridiculous part was my friends, who also felt Charles had done nothing wrong. “Men, you know, they need children. Charles was willing to play along with you for so many years, that’s already more than enough.” “You were too stubborn back then. All these years, I’ve never understood what you were aiming for.” “Exactly. If you ask me, since you’re both old now, Elaine would still call you ‘older sister.’ Why not just try to make it work, all living together?” I thought they would at most advise me to accept Charles’s children, but I never expected them to even suggest I share a husband with Elaine. But they didn’t consider that those two children had no blood relation to me. Even if I had stayed, how many good days could I have truly had? When I first insisted on being DINK, I faced pressure from everyone, declaring my absolute decision not to have children, and was criticized as selfish and unfilial. Charles’s parents pressured him to divorce me, but he claimed he didn’t mind and just wanted to live a good life with me. Moved by this, I became even more resolute in my decision. For decades, I compromised, taking all the blame myself, preserving his reputation, and even his own masculine confidence and dignity. Only to discover that he had brought me nothing but utter deception. He didn’t pressure me to have children for him because I wasn’t his only woman. If I didn’t have kids, he could just have other women do it. And he could still maintain a reputation for loving and protecting his wife, and even gain my parents’ trust and support. Why wouldn’t he? When I discovered the truth, I never imagined that the husband I’d always thought was gentle and refined could be so deeply manipulative. I was wrong, but my mistake wasn’t in not having children. It was in taking it upon myself to preserve his masculine dignity. For this, I was even willing to give up my right to be a mother. Therefore, I plotted for years, just waiting for the moment he could no longer keep up the act, to strike him a heavy blow.

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My mother-in-law had a stroke and collapsed, blood pooling on the floor. I calmly grabbed a mop and cleaned the spreading stain. As her son-in-law, I deliberately let the golden six-minute window for stroke intervention pass. In my last life, I was the first to find her. I immediately called an ambulance and rushed her to the hospital. But the surgery required a signature from a direct family member. When I called my wife to come and sign, she accused me of being jealous of her time with her first love, convinced it was just a ploy to get her to come home. She refused to sign. My mother-in-law died without receiving timely treatment. My wife, Jessica, missed her mother’s final moments and pinned all the blame on me. When I wasn’t looking, she attacked me with a kitchen knife, hacking me to death. “This is all your fault! My mom was so old, and you, her son-in-law, couldn’t even take care of her! Since you failed your duty to her in life, you can go to hell and continue serving her there!” I opened my eyes and found myself back on the day my mother-in-law collapsed. … My eyes snapped open again, and there she was, lying on the floor. I’ve had a severe fear of blood since I was a child. My first instinct was to call my wife. But as I unlocked my phone, the memory of her slashing at me with that knife flooded my mind, vivid and inescapable. The phantom pain was still there. My finger froze. I stopped myself from calling Jessica and dialed her cousin, Rebecca, instead. She picked up almost immediately. “Honey, you have to come home! Mom fell, she’s bleeding from her head, there’s so much blood! What do I do? You know I can’t handle blood, please, come back quick!” I feigned panic, pretending I’d dialed the wrong number, my voice thick with a desperate, choked sob. “Don’t panic, I’m on my way,” Rebecca said, her voice calm and steady. Her house was close, less than a ten-minute walk away. Sure enough, less than five minutes later, there was a knock at the door. I threw it open, putting on a look of surprise. “Rebecca? I… I thought I called Jessica.” She didn’t explain, just told me to pick up my mother-in-law and follow her. By the time we reached the hospital, the blood had soaked through my shirt. “Who’s the patient’s next of kin? It’s an emergency, we need a signature from a direct relative!” a nurse rushed out of the ER, clutching a critical condition notice. “I’m her son-in-law, I’ll sign.” “No, it has to be a direct blood relative.” She then looked at Rebecca. “I’m her niece,” Rebecca explained. The nurse frowned. “Does the patient have any other family?” “Nurse, please, just start the surgery. I’ll contact the next of kin,” I pleaded. The nurse hesitated, then rushed back into the ER with the form. Right there, in front of Rebecca, I pulled out my phone and called my wife. The first call went to voicemail. The second call, the same. The third call finally connected. I put it on speaker, and Jessica’s impatient voice filled the hallway. “What is your problem? Are you trying to die? Stop calling me!” “Jessica, Mom fell. She’s bleeding a lot, and they need a signature from a direct relative. You need to get to Peace Memorial Hospital now!” The same cold indifference as last time. The image of her wielding that knife flashed in my mind, and my gaze turned to ice, but I kept up the act. Jessica shrieked into the phone. “If Mom fell, you take her to the hospital! Why are you calling me? I’m not a doctor! You know I’m with Ryan, so you’re just jealous and making this up, aren’t you? Well, it won’t work! Are you completely useless? Can’t you survive for five minutes without me?” Then, a soft male voice murmured in the background. “Jess, I’m scared…” Before I could say another word, she hung up. The strangers in the hallway were looking at me with pity. I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles turned white, forcing a bitter smile. Rebecca was furious, pacing back and forth in front of the ER. “Call her again!” she snapped. “I refuse to believe some man is more important than her own mother!” It was just like my past life, except last time, I had hidden in a stairwell to make the calls alone. This time, everyone here was my witness. I did as she said, dialing again in front of everyone. This time, it rang twice before being disconnected. When I tried again, I found she had blocked my number. On the outside, I looked devastated. Inwardly, a massive wave of relief washed over me. I collapsed onto a hallway chair. Rebecca kicked a nearby chair in frustration, then pulled out her own phone, her fingers trembling as she dialed Jessica’s number. I looked up at her, my face a mask of gratitude. The call connected instantly. Rebecca didn’t waste a second. “Jessica, I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing! Get your ass to Peace Memorial Hospital! Now!” The background on her end was noisy, like a party. “Becca? Wow, that Mark is really something else. He actually got you in on his little drama? I expect this nonsense from him, but you too? I’m busy right now, I don’t have time for these games! Every single time I come to see Ryan, he pulls a stunt like this, making up excuses to get me to come home. And this time he dragged you into it! Can’t he be independent for once? I have to go, bye!” Before Rebecca could get another word in, Jessica hung up. Rebecca stared at her phone, stunned, then began dialing again and again. But all she got was the cold, robotic voice of the service provider. She went from anger to helplessness to pure disappointment. Finally, Jessica blocked Rebecca’s number too. Rebecca couldn’t contain her rage any longer, screaming curses at the silent phone. I buried my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking with silent sobs. In reality, I was hiding the smile I couldn’t suppress. A nurse from the main desk sighed, walking over with a sympathetic look. She handed me her phone. “Here, try mine. A life is on the line.” I took it, looking at her with profound thanks. The call went through. The moment Jessica heard my voice, she exploded. “What the hell is wrong with you? If you want to die so badly, just do it! Can’t you live without me? The sound of your voice makes me sick! We’re getting a divorce as soon as I get back. I can’t take this anymore, you pathetic idiot!” She slammed the phone down. The pity from the onlookers had now curdled into anger. “What’s the point of having a daughter like that? Her own mother is dying, and she’s off with her side piece!” “What a disgrace to women. Disgusting.” When you’re hurting, you can swallow any amount of pain as long as no one sees. But the moment someone shows you a shred of kindness, the dam breaks. I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself. A man who had been watching the whole spectacle handed me a business card. I glanced at it: Arthur Wallace, Divorce Attorney. I discreetly slipped the card into my pocket. After what felt like an eternity, the light above the operating room finally went out. The doctor emerged, pulling off her mask with a weary sigh. She looked at Rebecca and me and shook her head. “She was too old, and she lost too much blood. We did everything we could.” She didn’t say another word, just walked past us. The funeral should have been arranged by Jessica, but Rebecca forbade anyone from contacting her. “That ungrateful child doesn’t deserve to be called my aunt’s daughter. It’s a tragedy my aunt loved that monster her whole life, only to raise a viper!” Rebecca’s eyes were blazing with a fire she could barely control. She was the most respected and capable person in the family, so no one argued. So, Rebecca and I made the arrangements. Just when I thought Jessica wouldn’t show, she did. It was the day of the burial. We were all gathered, about to leave for the cemetery, when Jessica’s furious roar came from the doorway. “Mark, get your ass out here! Who gave you the right to do this? You’re so desperate to trick me into coming back that you got everyone to lie for you? Fine! You’ve really outdone yourself!” The moment I saw her, the paralyzing terror of my death in the last life washed over me. I clutched the funeral portrait of her mother, my body shaking uncontrollably as tears streamed down my face. “Have you lost your mind?” Rebecca screamed, stepping in front of me. “We called you over and over again! And what did you say? You were with that worthless man and refused to listen! And now you show up and put on this act for who? Get out! Our family doesn’t have a monster like you! Get out!” It was the first time I’d ever seen Rebecca so furious. “Becca, what has he done to you all?” Jessica cried. “What poison has he fed you to make you all lie to me like this? No, I have to ask my mom. I need to know what she was thinking, going along with this ridiculous charade!” She started shouting for her mom, looking around wildly. Rebecca closed her eyes and let out a deep, pained sigh. She carefully placed the urn on the altar, then strode over to Jessica, grabbing her and dragging her in front of it. “Kneel! You were looking for your mother? She’s in there! How ignorant, how stupid can you be to think we’re all lying to you? How dare you!” Rebecca was so emotional that her husband, David, tried to calm her, placing a hand on her arm. But he seemed to freeze, then awkwardly pulled his hand away. Jessica stared at the urn on the altar, then at the portrait in my hands, and collapsed to the floor. She clawed at her hair, sobbing hysterically. Suddenly, her head snapped up, her eyes locking onto me with a venomous glare. She lunged at me like a wild animal, screaming. “It’s all your fault! My mom was so old, and you, her son-in-law, couldn’t even take care of her! Since you failed your duty to her in life, you can go to hell and continue serving her there! Die! Die! Die!” I was caught completely off guard. Her hands closed around my throat, squeezing with terrifying strength. A woman in a rage is a fearsome thing. Even as a grown man, I couldn’t break her grip. Just as my vision started to black out, the pressure on my neck released. I scrambled away, gasping for air. Rebecca and another man had pulled Jessica off me. I shakily wiped the tears from my eyes. Rebecca slapped Jessica hard across the face. “Snap out of it!” But Jessica was seeing red. She was about to lunge at Rebecca when her phone rang. The ringtone was a custom recording of Ryan’s voice. It was his unique caller ID. It was clear how much she loved him. Even in this state of pure rage, she calmed down enough to answer his call. “Hello? Okay. I’m on my way. Don’t be scared.” She hung up and started for the door.

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1. The moment I was released from prison, waiting for someone to pick me up, I scrolled through a local trending post with a familiar profile picture. [My biological sister stole my foster sister’s jewelry, so I taught her a little lesson by sending her to jail for three years. She’s being released today. It’s the punishment she deserved, so why do I feel this overwhelming guilt?] The comments section exploded in outrage. [This ‘righteous’ act feels a bit… extreme, doesn’t it? For a biological sister? Going to jail can ruin a life forever.] [Clearly, the poster’s heart is completely biased, stretched across the ocean.] [Hard to say. Isn’t the ‘forbidden love with a foster sibling’ trope popular now? The foster sister sheds a few tears, and the brother is just heartbroken.] [To the comment above: he hasn’t replied to you yet, probably because you hit the nail on the head.] However, less than two seconds later, the poster replied with a smiling emoji: [Is stealing such a small thing? My company is a Fortune 500. Do you really think I can’t cover for her?] Soon after, a luxury SUV, a Cullinan, pulled up in front of me. Liam’s eyes were red as he reached out his hand. “Do you finally understand your mistake? Come on, let’s go home.” I simply stepped back, unemotionally, avoiding his hand. I’d found a new brother inside. … My brother, Liam, looked startled that I had avoided him. But his hand didn’t retreat; instead, it swiftly and firmly reached for me again. “Why are you avoiding me, Anya? Did someone bully you inside?” His voice was hoarse, like his throat was stuffed with sponges. I tried to pull my hand away several times without success, so I just said flatly, “No.” He visibly relaxed, tightening his grip on me. “That’s good. I heard online that it’s a terrible place, so it’s good you weren’t bullied…” Watching his relieved expression and his eyes growing redder, I gave a bitter, mocking laugh inside. Brother, weren’t you the one who went to such lengths to put me in there? What good is your concern now? He forced a smile, pulling me towards the car in a placating manner. “Don’t you love a good celebration? I’ve prepared a welcome home feast for you.” “Come on, let’s go home.” I looked back at the prison. Inside, I’d met a new brother, named Julian. He was locked up for a white-collar crime he was falsely accused of, and he wouldn’t be out for another month. We’d already made a pact: in a month, I’d pick him up, and we’d start a new life together. Thinking of Dad’s belongings, which were still at the house, I finally got into the car with Liam. On the way, he half-warned, half-admonished me, stroking my buzzcut. “Anya, you can’t steal anymore. This is your lesson.” I clenched my fingers. For three years, I’d sent countless messages to him through the guards. Telling him I hadn’t stolen anything from Anna, that she’d framed me. But he never believed me. So this time, I wasn’t going to explain again. I just nodded obediently, agreeing with him. “Got it.” He smiled, satisfied, and took me home. As soon as he opened the door, there was a boom, and confetti rained down. Anna, whom I hadn’t seen in three years, was holding a party popper, her eyes crinkling with a smile. “Sister, welcome home!” She acted incredibly affectionate, her eyes practically overflowing with longing. Completely unlike the malicious, hateful look she’d given me when she’d falsely accused me of stealing. I ignored her, brushing past her shoulder and walking inside. Her smile froze, and she awkwardly looked to Liam for help. “Why isn’t Anya talking to me? Is she still mad at me?” Liam affectionately ruffled her hair. “Anya just got out, she might still be adjusting. It’s not your fault.” I was already in the bedroom, pulling open the drawer under the bed. Seeing Dad’s old photos and ring still there, I breathed a sigh of relief. Liam stood at the doorway, calling softly to me. “Anya, come out and eat? You’ve lost so much weight, I can see your ribs.” I closed the drawer and followed him out. At dinner, Anna casually asked: 2. “Sister, what was it like inside? I heard it’s really chaotic, is that true?” “Not chaotic. We could read books and newspapers daily, then return to our dorms after dinner.” “Oh, that sounds pretty decent then. Not as tough as I imagined.” As she spoke, a flicker of disappointment crossed Anna’s eyes. Liam peeled a shrimp for me, chuckling softly. “Now that you’re out, let’s not dwell on what happened inside. Just consider it an experience and move past it.” Anna’s expression darkened, and she said no more. A moment later, as if remembering something, she hurried back to her bedroom and returned with a small, elegant box, offering it to me. “Sister, this is a gift I prepared for you. Congratulations on your release!” I didn’t take it, just continued eating my meal. She didn’t seem to mind, smiling as she opened the box. A string of pearl necklaces lay quietly inside, looking incredibly opulent. But one glance, and my pupils constricted, blood draining from my face, a sudden chill engulfing me! Anna pushed the necklace closer to me, her face gradually twisting into a grotesque, chilling smile. “What’s wrong, Sister? Didn’t you love this necklace the most? Enough to even steal it?” “Now I’m giving it to you. Aren’t you happy?” That pearl necklace was a gift Liam had given to Anna. It was also the very thing that had sent me to prison for three years. After Dad was killed in action, Mom took the bereavement benefits and ran off, leaving Liam and me to fend for ourselves. He dropped out of high school, took countless wrong turns before finally succeeding in starting his own company. Once he made money, he adopted Anna, who had also lost her father, and brought her home. At first, I disagreed, but Liam persuaded me: “Anna is just as unfortunate as us. At least you have me; she has nothing.” “Anya, be more generous. It’s just one more plate at the table.” But despite his words, Liam treated her even better than he treated me. It was as if he wanted to raise a sister all over again, giving her everything he hadn’t had the chance to give me. Jewelry, accessories, designer bags—whatever Anna wanted, she got. In just two years, he spent millions. That was money he’d earned through sheer effort, so many nights he had to go out for business dinners, throwing up until he was sick but still forcing himself to drink more. I worried about his money and always urged him not to spend too much. As a result, Anna resented me. She hid the jewelry under my pillow, then cried to Liam, claiming I had stolen it. Liam exploded in rage, making me kneel in the rain to admit my mistake. “How could the Reynolds family produce a daughter like you? Dad was a soldier, and I’ve always been upright, never done anything wrong.” “Of all people, why did you have to take after that mother who ran off with all the money?” “Did I ever starve you or deny you clothes? Why would you steal?” I developed a high fever, crying and explaining that I hadn’t stolen anything, but he refused to believe me. The next day, he hired the best lawyer and sued me. He was my own brother, yet in court, he argued vehemently on Anna’s behalf, acting as her witness. Ultimately, I was sentenced to three years, branded a thief. Before I went in, relatives, friends, and even the lawyer advised him not to be so serious. I was a girl, after all, and three years in prison would ruin my life. But Liam was determined, choosing to alienate them rather than give up on sending me in. “Anya won’t be ruined. I work hard to make money for her. Even if she is ruined, I can support her for the rest of her life.” “But she stole, and she has to be taught a lesson!” During those three years, he visited me every month, asking if I understood my mistake. And I never showed my face, only relaying messages through the guards: “I didn’t steal any money.” 3. Every time he left, the guard would sigh and tell me: “Your brother doesn’t believe you.” One disappointment after another, slowly, imperceptibly, turned into despair. I felt as if the whole world had abandoned me. I used to have my brother’s love, but now even that was gone. Seeing that pearl necklace again, I completely broke down, overturning the box. The pearls scattered onto the floor, the string snapped, clattering and rolling away. Anna froze, flustered, and Liam’s face instantly darkened. “Anna kindly gave you a gift, and she doesn’t even blame you anymore. What are you doing?” I sat in the chair, trembling uncontrollably, my face frighteningly pale. He pulled me up. “Do you think just because you’re out, you can throw a fit? Pick up those pearls right now and apologize to Anna!” How could I apologize? I shoved Liam hard, pushed open the door, and ran out. The biting wind outside matched the churning knot of injustice and sorrow in my heart. I didn’t want to come home. If it weren’t for Dad’s belongings, I wouldn’t have returned with him. I never wanted to be wrongly accused again, never wanted to suffer another shred of injustice! Liam quickly chased after me from behind, grabbing my wrist. His brows were tightly furrowed, and he spoke with a tone of reproach. “Where are you running off to? Three years in jail and your temper hasn’t changed?” I couldn’t take it anymore. I shook him off, my eyes red, and retorted: “Whether she gave me that necklace out of kindness or malice, Liam, can’t you see it?” “I’m your biological sister. You’ve already sent me away once with your own hands, what more do you want?” “It was for your own good!” His voice grew cold. “If you dare to steal, you must accept the punishment. Otherwise, how will you ever change this habit?” “Am I supposed to watch you make mistakes without doing anything, just letting you go down the wrong path?” His words felt like a heavy pickaxe, carving a deep chasm in my heart. When had I ever stolen anything, growing up? What reason would I have to steal a necklace from Anna? Why couldn’t he just think, why wouldn’t he believe me! Tears of injustice streamed down my face, the despair and pain of three years washing over me. I gave up on explaining once again. Liam looked at my buzzcut, then softened his voice, as if admitting defeat. “Anya, everything I’ve done has been for you. Even though you spent three years in prison, I’ve still paved the way for your future.” “My company will be yours one day. I truly just wanted to give you a small punishment, nothing serious.” “Come home with your brother. Don’t run off like this again.” He took my hand, leading me back toward the house. I followed his steps numbly, not saying another word. When we pushed open the door, Anna’s eyes flashed with surprise to see Liam bringing me back. She hadn’t expected him to still be willing to let me come home, even after all this. But I felt utterly exhausted, retreating into my bedroom and not coming out again. Late that night, Anna crept into my room. I sharply opened my eyes, but she thought I was still sound asleep. She fumbled, lifted my pillow, and slipped something underneath. I said nothing, nor did I take it out. Anna was in such a hurry, repeating her old trick the moment I returned. I wanted to see if Liam would choose to believe me this time. Sure enough, the next morning, she cried to Liam, claiming I had stolen her necklace again. “Sister, if you liked it, you just had to tell me. I even gave you the necklace yesterday, but you didn’t want it.” “Do you just enjoy petty theft?” Liam’s face was dark, his gaze fixed on me, teeth clenched. 4. “You just can’t change, can you?” My heart dropped with a thump, plummeting into a bottomless abyss. Liam’s words were like a sharp sword, severing the last ties of family between us. I gave a self-deprecating smile. “No, I can’t.” “Smack!” As my words fell, Liam suddenly raised his hand and slapped me hard across the face. The fury and disappointment in his eyes threatened to spill over. “How could I have a sister like you!” I was silent for a moment, then, covering my face, I let out a cold laugh. “I don’t know why I have a brother like you.” “You!” He pointed at me, his hand trembling, too furious to speak. Before his second slap could land, I dropped to my knees with a thud and bowed my head. “Thank you for dropping out of school to take care of me. From now on, I have no brother.” With that, I stood up, retrieved Dad’s belongings from under the bed, and turned to leave. His face was grim as he snatched the photos and ring. “These are Dad’s things. You have no right to them!” Then so be it. I nodded, resignedly preparing to leave. Liam’s voice, tight with suppressed anger, called out from behind me. “You’re an ex-con. What can you do without me? Starve?” My steps didn’t falter. “Don’t trouble yourself.” After leaving the house, I sat in the neighborhood park for a whole day. This time, Liam didn’t come after me. He must have been utterly disappointed and disgusted, unwilling to care anymore. I had no money, so I looked for a job that offered room and board. But as soon as they heard I’d been to prison, not a single company would hire me. Left with no choice, I went to a construction site. The foreman scrutinized me from head to toe, then slowly frowned. “A woman? Our work is very tough. Can you handle it?” I forced a pleading smile. “Please, sir, just give me a chance. Don’t let my size fool you; I’m actually very strong.” He was still hesitant, until I started working without further ado, moving quickly and efficiently. He finally nodded, agreeing to let me stay. “Room and board included, a hundred a day.” “But our project is short-term, only a month.” I nodded happily. That was enough. Julian would be out in a month, and I’d have somewhere to go. So I worked at the construction site for about twenty days. When Liam found me again, he was so shocked he barely recognized me. My hair had grown out considerably, becoming a frizzy mess. My clothes were covered in dirt, flaking off with every step. He watched from a distance, his eyes slowly turning red. After a long while, he rushed over and grabbed my wrist. “How did you end up here? Anya, do you know how long I’ve been looking for you?!” “Come on, let’s go home. You can’t do this kind of work!” I shook him off and picked up another stack of bricks from the ground, pretending not to know him. His lips were tightly pressed together. He stopped trying to persuade me, turning to talk to the foreman instead. I don’t know what he said. Soon, the foreman walked up to me, his face grim. “Anya Reynolds, why didn’t you mention you’d been to prison for stealing? We can’t have someone like that on our site. You’re fired!” “And I can’t pay you your wages. You need to leave now!” I was shocked, quickly begging the foreman for another chance. “I was framed for that. I never stole anything and I never will. Please, just let me stay!” “That’s your biological brother, isn’t it? Would he frame you?” The foreman interrupted me with a sneer. “We can’t have dishonest people. Go, go!” Then, impatiently, he shoved me. I lost my balance and stumbled backward, only to be caught steadily by Liam.

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My life at thirty was a train wreck. I quit my job after being passed over for a promotion, and my CEO boyfriend and I broke up right after he proposed. I couldn’t even face going home for the holidays. Then, on the darkest day of my life, I met my eighteen-year-old self. I thought she’d be utterly disappointed in me. Instead, she shrieked with excitement. “You’re so rich you can just buy whatever you want!” “Oh my god, you even slept with a guy that hot!” “You’re so awesome! Wait, no, I’m so awesome!” “Future Me, are you living the dream or what?” 01 The biggest fight of our lives erupted right after my CEO boyfriend, Dominic, proposed. “You knew who I was from the start, didn’t you?” he said, his voice cold. “Failing to get that promotion is about your performance. What does that have to do with me?” The absurdity of it stole my breath. How could it not have to do with him? Everyone at the company knew office relationships were forbidden territory. To protect his authority, I had agreed to be a ghost, pretending we were practically strangers even if we ran into each other right outside the office building. But him? My voice trembled with rage. “Dominic, when you made a show of having lunch with Isabelle in the company cafeteria, or when you took walks with her, did you ever once think about keeping your distance?” “Why do you think the senior managers gave Isabelle such high marks? Because they saw you two were close! They thought she was the one you were grooming, and they were all trying to kiss up to you!” Dominic’s brow furrowed, as if my logic was completely alien to him. “You’re being ridiculous. We’re colleagues. I can’t just ignore her, can I?” I sucked in a sharp breath, the air cold in my lungs. “The whole company is whispering that you’re promoting Isabelle, and you’ve said nothing. Meanwhile, I’m your fiancée, and I have to hide in the shadows like a thief.” “I landed our most difficult clients. I pulled all-nighters for weeks to meet the company’s core targets this year. My KPIs were double what was expected. And for what?” He shot back, his voice just as sharp. “I didn’t pull any strings for anyone. The promotion list was decided by a vote from the senior managers. I gave you a completely level playing field. It’s not my fault you didn’t seize the opportunity.” Staring at his self-righteous expression, the man before me felt like a complete stranger. A horrifying doubt began to creep in. Was it really true he hadn’t cheated? That he hadn’t given her a leg up? Dominic would never tell me. He would never explain, never apologize. “Let’s break up,” I said, my voice barely a whisper. “And I’m quitting.” His face turned to stone. Three words escaped his lips, cold and final. “Suit yourself.” 02 The air was brutally cold the day I left Dominic’s apartment. I felt like a complete failure. I was thirty years old. My entire world had been tangled up with Dominic for so long. He had just proposed last month. I’d been at the company for eight years, on the cusp of building a reputation as an expert in my field. In a single night, it was all gone. I wandered the streets like a stray dog, spine ripped out, my eyes hollow and aimless. The clamor of a crowd drew my attention. A fight had broken out. “Hey! Officer! This guy’s drunk and he’s hitting his wife! Right here on the street!” a young voice pierced the noise. People were muttering, “What kind of man hits his wife?” but they all kept a safe distance, a circle of spectators unwilling to get involved. The man, reeking of alcohol, was still shouting. “It’s my right to discipline my wife! Nobody can tell me what to do!” In the center of the chaos, a young girl had a death grip on his arm. She was the one who had called the police and was refusing to let go until they arrived. “This chick’s a total badass,” she yelled. “Scumbags like him should be locked up, and she should divorce him ASAP!” I stood on the periphery with everyone else. My heart ached for the woman, but I wouldn’t step in. I wouldn’t get dragged into that mess. Society, and Dominic, had taught me well. Keep your head down, protect yourself, and mind your own business. But as I looked at the girl through the crowd, my heart skipped a beat, a hard, painful thud. Her face was so young, so defiant, so full of a reckless, beautiful ignorance of the world’s cruelty. It was, unmistakably, my face. At eighteen. As if she felt my gaze, the eighteen-year-old me whipped her head around. Our eyes met, and for a split second, she froze too. After she finished with the police, she rushed over to me. “You… you look just like me. What year is it?” “It’s 2037.” Her young mind processed it in a flash. “Whoa! Holy crap! I time-traveled! So this is what I look like at thirty!” She grabbed my freezing hand, her own full of life, and blurted out, “Future Me! What are the odds?” 03 We compared IDs. We verified family details. Slowly, I accepted the impossible reality. The younger me, whom I’ll call Anna, accepted it instantly. She latched onto me and wouldn’t let go. I never knew I was such a little firecracker at eighteen. She was a chatterbox, her words spilling out in an endless, energetic stream. “So, how much money do you have? Being thirty must be awesome. No more school, right?” “I have some savings, yes. And no more school.” “Wow! Whoa, that coat looks expensive! You’re so capable. Wait, no, I’m so capable.” I didn’t feel capable. I had to find a hotel for the night. I’d given up my old apartment when Dominic and I moved in together. He always said the housing market was unstable and buying wasn’t a smart move, so I still didn’t have a place of my own. My life had become so intertwined with his that now, without him, I was completely adrift. I’m sure Dominic knew that. He was waiting for me to be the first one to break. I was such a failure. The holidays were approaching, and I didn’t want to go home. How could I explain to my parents that the son-in-law they were expecting had vanished into thin air? But Anna was buzzing with excitement. “I’ve never been to a bar! Can you take me? It’s so weird, I just turned legal drinking age and then poof, I’m here!” Looking into her blazing eyes, I swallowed the bitterness of my own life. “Alright, let’s go to a bar. What else do you want to do?” “Ever stayed in a five-star hotel? I’ll take you tonight.” 04 Anna wanted a bar, so I took her to the one Dominic and I used to frequent. It was upscale, quiet, and good for conversation. I ordered Anna my favorite cocktail. Her eyes darted everywhere, filled with a boundless curiosity. “So what’s your boyfriend like?” she asked, the hundredth question in a long series. Just as I was about to give a noncommittal answer, I saw him. Dominic. Sitting by the floor-to-ceiling window, a thunderous look on his face. And next to him sat Isabelle. I pointed. “That’s my boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend, as of today. And he might be cheating on me with the woman next to him.” Anna’s eyes widened. “What the hell? Guys like that exist? I’m gonna go slap him!” I grabbed her arm, pulling her back. “Whoa, easy there, my little ancestor. Let it go. He’s a CEO, you can’t just pick a fight with him.” She looked at me in disbelief. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you living like such a doormat? He’s the one who cheated! He’s the one in the wrong!” I sighed, rubbing my temples. “We already broke up. Besides, they’re just having a drink. There’s no actual proof of anything. What right do I have to make a scene?” “And he’s a CEO,” I continued, “his reputation is everything. If you embarrass him now, he’ll make my life hell later…” “I’m gonna pour this drink all over him right now!” Anna declared. “I’ll demand to know what’s going on! What’s he gonna do, have me arrested? Is there no justice in the world?” It took all my strength to hold her back, to convince her not to do something reckless. I quietly explained the complicated web of our relationship. Dominic was my boss, then he became the CEO. We had been dating in secret. “When I was just starting out, Dominic taught me a lot. He was a mentor and a friend. Keeping it secret was for the best, for both of us.” “If our relationship went public, one of us would have had to leave. I want to stay in this industry, and everyone at the top knows Dominic. I don’t want to burn everything to the ground…” The world never knew. I had never officially stood by his side. Even when we were planning our wedding, there were no plans to go public. In public, we were strangers. While I was talking, Anna was busy snapping pictures and recording a video. “Seriously? That scumbag. So he can’t be seen with you, but he can get cozy with another woman? You’re not going to expose him?” 05 “Wait a second,” Anna said, her voice sharp. “Why is it that if you go public, you’re the one who has to consider quitting? Why doesn’t he step down? Has he brainwashed you completely?” The more she heard, the more she felt something was wrong. The more she saw me as a pushover. She pulled on a face mask, grabbed her cocktail, and, ignoring my protests, strode purposefully towards Dominic. She tipped the glass, pouring the sticky, colorful liquid all over his head. “You absolute scumbag,” she spat. Dominic froze, dripping. “What the…?” I rushed forward and grabbed Anna’s hand. Dominic’s gaze shifted to me, his brow furrowed in annoyance. “Is this a friend of yours? Did you put her up to this, to humiliate me in public?” Isabelle, seeing the dangerous glint in Dominic’s eyes, spoke up. “I understand,” she said, her voice soft and trembling. “My name was on the promotion list, and Anna’s friend is just upset for her. It’s only natural.” She bit her lower lip, looking fragile and timid. “But the company’s evaluations are completely fair and impartial. And Mr. Croft and I just happened to run into each other to discuss some work… Anna, how could you resort to such a vulgar tactic?” A sharp crack echoed through the quiet bar, cutting off her saccharine, victim-playing monologue. Anna had lunged forward and slapped Isabelle across the face. “You phony bitch, drop the act! You got what you wanted, so stop pretending to be innocent.” Isabelle shrieked, clutching her reddening cheek, and instinctively tried to shrink into Dominic’s arms for protection. “You… you hit me!” But to everyone’s surprise, Dominic didn’t embrace her. He irritably pulled his sleeve from her grasp and said coldly, “You should go.” Isabelle stared for a moment, then could only nod meekly. But as she turned her back to Dominic, she shot me a look over her shoulder. Her lips were curved into a provocative, victorious smirk. Anna saw it too. Her fury reignited, and she raised her hand to strike again. That’s when Dominic’s voice cut through the air, dangerously stern. “Anna, that’s enough! What’s gotten into you?” He had called out to both of us at once. Anna froze. And I stared at Dominic, my heart pounding. 06 Dominic had the owner clear the bar. I pulled Anna behind me, shielding her. This was the first time I had ever confronted him in public. “Was she wrong?” I demanded. “My performance was the best this year. I brought in the biggest deals. I drank so much for this company that I ended up in the hospital on an IV drip. And Isabelle gets the promotion and still plays the victim.” “And now you two are sitting here, having a drink. Doesn’t that just prove she’s your person? Are you protecting her?” The words were acid in my mouth, burning on their way out. Dominic’s dark eyes stared at me. “Is this promotion really that important? If you marry me, you can have anything you want. Why are you so obsessed with this one title?” “Isabelle’s promotion doesn’t get in your way. Why are you making such an unreasonable scene? If word of this gets out at the office, how am I supposed to maintain my authority?” “You’re thirty years old, not three. Can’t you think about the consequences?” “Then what were you two doing here just now?” I shot back. “Celebrating her promotion? Or celebrating your return to single life, toasting the fact that you can now chase after a younger woman?” He hated hearing things like that. “I am not cheating on you. We were maintaining a perfectly safe distance. Can you please drop your baseless jealousy?” He reached for me. “If you still want to marry me, come home.” He was always so damn commanding. I flinched away from his touch. Anna surged forward, planting herself between us. “Are you out of your mind? You let her get hurt because of some other woman? Why on earth should she marry you?” “And what ‘safe distance’? Have you heard of basic respect? You were practically on top of each other! A man and a woman, drinking alone together. I guess as long as you’re not caught in bed, it’s not cheating, right?” She lunged and slapped him. Caught off guard, he took the full force of it. His clothes were soaked, and now a red handprint was blooming on his cheek. The once-invincible CEO looked utterly pathetic. And through the sharp, stabbing pain in my chest, a laugh bubbled out of me. “Dominic,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady. “I mean it. Thank you for all your guidance in my career over the years. But I don’t want to marry you anymore.” “We’re over.” Leaving him there, a mask of pure shock on his face, I took Anna’s hand and walked away.

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To force me to break off our engagement, my fiancée orchestrated the bankruptcy of my father’s company, leaving him with millions in debt. The shock triggered a heart attack, and my father was rushed to the emergency room. As I knelt, begging my fiancée for help with the surgery costs, my childhood friend, Sarah Grant, suddenly returned from abroad. She arranged for a doctor for my father and stayed by his bedside day and night with me. But a week later, my father suffered another sudden heart attack. To let him depart in peace, Sarah knelt by his hospital bed, vowing to marry me and love me for the rest of her life. After the funeral, heartbroken, I canceled my engagement to my fiancée and married Sarah. But five years later, I accidentally overheard a conversation between my ex-fiancée and her. “Your trick was brilliant, wasn’t it? Making Mark, that leech, willingly give me up. Do you think if he knew that you were the one who caused his father’s death, he’d want to kill you?” … My hand, pushing open the private room door, froze. Inside, my ex-fiancée’s taunting voice continued. “You really are heartless. Mark grew up with you, treated you like his own sister. I bet he’d never in a million years guess that you were the one who ruined his father’s company.” “If it weren’t for Julian, I wouldn’t have taken the blame for you all these years. As much as I dislike Mark, I would never do something that would literally cause someone’s father to die.” A wine glass was set down heavily on the table. Sarah, her voice tinged with drunken anger, retorted, “I’ll spend my entire life making it up to Mark. I helped you back then because I wanted Julian to be happy. If you ever dare to hurt Julian, to make him shed a single tear, I’ll end your life.” The woman across from her chuckled, clicking her tongue in admiration. “Such devotion. Too bad Julian met me first. You should just focus on your Mark, after all, you caused his father’s death. Be careful not to be haunted in your midnight dreams.” A glass “bang” against the door, shattering. Footsteps approached rapidly. I took a deep breath and bolted downstairs to the bar. I grabbed a glass and downed it in one go. I never drank, and the burn brought tears to my eyes. The words I had just heard echoed repeatedly in my mind. The person who caused my dad’s company to go bankrupt wasn’t my ex-fiancée, but Sarah, the woman who had paid for his surgery. And my father’s second heart attack a week later? That was also because of something Sarah said. No wonder my dad stared fixedly at Sarah just before he passed. At the time, I naively thought it was his gratitude and a final entrustment. My wife, who had shared my bed for five years, whom I held in the palm of my hand, was the indirect cause of my father’s death. And these years of marriage, this fabricated love, were merely her supposed “compensation” born of guilt. It was utterly ludicrous. Sorrow and fury surged within me. My gaze fell on the glass in my hand when Sarah suddenly embraced me gently from behind, burying her head in my neck, her voice soft with a touch of drunkenness. “Mark, why did you leave for so long? I missed you so much… Let’s go home. Mark, I love you so much… so, so much…” Over the years, whenever Sarah got drunk, she would mumble her love for me. Her friends always said that drunken words were honest words, and that Sarah truly loved me deeply. But now, all of it seemed exceptionally ridiculous. I subtly pushed her away and helped her into the car. Sarah lay on my lap, her brow unfurrowed, her breathing even, as if asleep. “Julian… Julian… why didn’t you choose me, why…” This time, I finally heard it clearly, the name that appeared countless times in her dreams. Julian. Julian Harlow. The man who stole my ex-fiancée, and Sarah’s true love. So Sarah had never forgotten him. She had even married me and pretended to be loving for his sake. I had underestimated her love for Julian. The phone clattered from the woman’s pocket. I bent down to pick it up, and a message notification popped up on the screen. “Sarah, thank you for helping me with drinks tonight. I can’t accept the necklace you gave me, it’s too precious.” The next second, I saw Julian Harlow’s social media post: “Love is priceless.” The accompanying image was an incredibly dazzling necklace, precisely the unique one in the world that a mysterious rich man had bought for a hundred million dollars, according to the news. I knew Julian Harlow had posted it specifically for me to see. This week, Sarah had been so busy she didn’t have time to eat, which led to a sudden stomach illness and a trip to the emergency room. But the moment she opened her eyes, she flew to England. I was furious and heartbroken then, thinking she was sacrificing her life for work. Only later did I learn she went to an auction. Even if she was in so much pain she couldn’t stand straight, she still went to bid on the world’s most precious necklace, to offer it to her true love. Against my better judgment, I entered the lock screen password. After typing the last digit, it unlocked successfully. It was Julian’s birthday. Sarah never let me look at her phone, saying we needed to give each other personal space. The moment it unlocked, Julian Harlow’s bright, handsome smiling face appeared. No wonder Sarah’s eyes would soften mysteriously every time she unlocked her phone. I tapped on the photo album. It was filled with consistently named folders. “Julian at Ten,” “Julian at Eleven,”… “Julian at Twenty-Five.” Each album documented Julian Harlow’s smiling face at different stages of his life. Among thousands of photos, not a single one was of me, not even of her. Only Julian. Just like her heart, from beginning to end, it only held Julian Harlow. I opened the notepad and found Sarah’s diary. [20XX, Sunny. Julian cut his leg on a branch today. It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have planted trees in the yard.] [20XX, Sunny. Julian got married today. As long as he’s happy, anything I do is worth it. I live to make him happy.] [20XX, Rainy. I got married. The moment I saw Julian in the audience, how I wished he was the one standing beside me.] The car pulled into the driveway. Looking up at the bare yard, I felt cold all over. Originally, there were two peach trees in the yard, which Sarah had specifically transplanted from my family’s old estate. My father had planted them for me when I was ten years old. Whenever I saw them, I felt as if my father had never left, that he was still with me. But suddenly one day, the roots of those two trees, once full of peaches, inexplicably rotted. Sarah had held me as I cried for three days and three nights. Now I knew. It was also her who destroyed the only memento my father had left me. Her assistant’s message popped up. “Ms. Grant, as per your instructions, your will has been prepared. All assets will be left to Mr. Julian Harlow. It’s ready to take effect once you sign it.” Through blurry tears, I thought I saw the woman who, at the funeral that year, had held me tenderly and promised, “Mark, I will give you a home. Everything I have belongs to you.” I placed Sarah on the bed, but unlike before, I didn’t take off her shoes or care for her. I turned and went straight to the guest room. Closing my eyes, my mind was filled with the image of her loving me all these years. The morning sun streamed over me. Opening my eyes, I met Sarah’s gentle gaze. She leaned over and lightly kissed my forehead. “Mark, were you angry last night? I’m sorry, I drank a bit too much at dinner. I promise it won’t happen again.” Her tender demeanor was as always. I gently hummed in response, pushed her away, and went into the bathroom, washing away the lingering warmth from my forehead. The table was laden with breakfast. In the past, I would have been overjoyed. But after reading Sarah’s diary, I couldn’t feel happy anymore. This entire spread was Julian Harlow’s favorite. The sound of a key in the lock echoed from the entryway. Julian Harlow walked in, dressed in a sharp, clean suit. He naturally took a seat at the dining table and offered me a slight smile, as if explaining, “Mark, sorry to intrude. Sarah and I have a photoshoot this morning, so she asked me to come for breakfast.” I said nothing, merely looking at the identical key chain in his hand. Sarah, acutely aware of my mood, leaned in and whispered, “Julian is our best friend. It’s normal for him to have a key to our house…” Before she could finish, her tone changed abruptly. She stood up anxiously and snatched the soy milk from Julian’s hand. “Julian, you can’t drink soy milk. After all these years, why can’t you remember?” Julian pursed his lips and smiled, his voice full of amusement: “Yes, it’s a good thing I have you all these years.” They gazed deeply into each other’s eyes, like long-time lovers. I had no interest in watching their affectionate display. As I prepared to leave, Julian called out to me. “Mark, I remember you studied photography. Could you please photograph today’s shoot for me? I don’t trust the new photographer.” Since my father’s death, I had not touched a camera. Whenever I picked one up, I would think of my father, who had taught me photography since childhood. My mind would be filled with his unyielding, vulnerable face as he passed away. I no longer had the courage to press the shutter. Sarah knew this. She had locked all my cameras in a cabinet, telling me not to force myself, that she would help me through it slowly until I was ready to pick up a camera again. But at this moment, before I could speak, she pushed me into the back seat of the car. “Mark, you know Julian gets carsick, so I’m sorry to make you sit in the back.” But she had forgotten that I got even worse carsick. After barely eating any breakfast, my stomach was churning the entire ride. Upon arrival, Sarah carefully straightened Julian’s suit and walked arm-in-arm with him into the studio. I leaned against the car, taking deep breaths of fresh air. “Mark, the shoot is about to start. Be good, don’t be stubborn, and take good pictures. This shoot is very important for Julian and for Grant Industries.” Sarah suddenly pulled me into the studio with force. I lost my footing and almost fell. Picking up a camera again after five years felt strange and terrifying. My hands trembled slightly. I struggled to control the surge of sadness in my heart, pressing the shutter again and again. During a break, only Julian and I were left in the studio. He flipped through the photos, a mocking smile on his lips. “Mark, you really are useless, just like your father. You can’t do anything right. Truly, like father, like son.” My fingernails dug hard into my palms. My body trembled slightly, and I felt my anger about to erupt. “Slap!” A searing pain suddenly flared on my cheek. Julian shook his hand, looking down at me with disdain. “Mark, you are truly shameless. I never thought you’d latch onto Sarah so quickly after your engagement was called off. What makes you think you’re worthy of her? I’m telling you, both your ex-fiancée and Sarah—they’re mine.” “You don’t deserve either of them.”

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My husband’s female colleague called again, deep in the night. Another body needed urgent cremation. Already exhausted from days of work, my husband got up and left without a word. He didn’t return until the sky was beginning to lighten. “Audrey was swamped. Good thing I was still awake.” I didn’t respond. I just stared at the ceiling. He wrapped his arms around me from behind, his voice a soft murmur. “I know I’ve been neglecting you lately, but it’s my job. I had to go.” “How about we take a trip after this busy stretch? Just you and me.” I remained silent, pulling away from his embrace. My voice was cold when I finally spoke. “Let’s get a divorce.” … Finn’s hands froze. He forced me to face him, his grip firm on my arms. The skin under his eyes was bruised with the dark shadows of sleepless nights. “Quinn, don’t be like this… I know you’re tired. I’m tired, too.” “But this is my duty. You understand that, don’t you?” I avoided his gaze and pulled my hands free. His voice trembled, but he tried to keep it soft. “Is this because I haven’t been home for dinner? Or… because I forgot your birthday last month?” “I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry. Once I’m through this crunch, we’ll take a long vacation. Just the two of us, okay?” He stroked the back of my hand, the same way he always did to soothe me after a fight. I remembered our first year of marriage; I was miserable at work, suffering from insomnia, and he would sit with me just like this, never complaining, just whispering, “Quinn, I’m here.” Thinking about it now felt like a cruel joke. “Don’t touch me,” I said. His hand froze mid-air, the exhaustion on his face morphing into bewilderment. “What’s wrong with you? Is it just because I had to go to work in the middle of the night again?” “Quinn, life and death are serious matters. If I don’t go, do you expect them to just leave a body lying there?” “I don’t care what you say. Divorce.” I repeated it. My voice wasn’t loud, but it was absolute. His eyes instantly turned red, as if he were seeing me for the first time. “You’re serious?” I turned my back to him. “Nine a.m. tomorrow. I’ll meet you at the courthouse.” Finn laughed, but it was a wounded sound. “Quinn, you have to give me a reason. Is it because of my overtime? Or do you think Audrey and I are…” “Leave her out of this,” I cut him off. “It’s you. You make me sick.” The color drained from his face. His lips trembled, but no sound came out. “Is that really what you think of me?” he finally choked out, his voice raw. “Audrey and I are just colleagues.” I didn’t want to hear any more. I got up, left the bedroom, and closed the door behind me. He didn’t follow. He didn’t try to explain further. I heard the sound of a glass shattering on the floor, followed by a muffled curse. A few moments later, my phone rang. It was Audrey. She was Finn’s senior from college. And his first love. The phone rang for a long time. Finally, I answered. Her voice on the other end was weary. “Quinn, Finn just called me. I wanted to explain…” “We’ve been taking on a lot of cases from the west side of the city recently…” I didn’t have the patience to listen. I hung up. I sat on the sofa, remembering six months ago. He had come home late from a work trip then, too, so tired he collapsed beside me without even taking off his clothes. He’d touched my face with his eyes closed and whispered, “Quinn, I’m so glad you’re here.” Back then, I really believed we could make it for a lifetime. The sun rose completely. When I woke up, Finn was gone. The living room was spotless. Even the jacket he’d worn last night was hanging neatly on the coat rack by the door. A glass of honey water sat on the coffee table, still warm. Next to it was a sticky note. Wait for me to get back. I’ll make you your favorite barbecue ribs. I picked up the glass, walked to the kitchen, and poured the water down the sink. My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from him. Quinn, I’m at work. Did you drink the honey water? I didn’t reply. A few minutes later, another one came through. I’ll spend more time with you once this is all over. There’s really nothing between Audrey and me. I stared at the screen for a long time before typing out a single line. Nine a.m. Don’t be late. Then I blocked his number. At eight-thirty, I was standing outside the county courthouse. People came and went, mostly in pairs. Some were holding hands, whispering sweet nothings. Others stood apart, their faces grim. I leaned against a pillar, watching the street. Nine-thirty. He didn’t show. I took out my phone, unblocked his number, and called. It rang three times before he hung up on me. A surge of anger flared up. I redialed. This time, it went straight to a “number unavailable” message. I waited another half hour. Just as I was about to try again, a strange number called me. I answered. A young woman’s voice spoke rapidly. “Is this Mrs. Quinn Harris? This is City Central Hospital. Your husband, Finn Harris, was in a car accident. He’s in emergency surgery. We need you to come and handle the payment immediately.” I froze, the words not quite registering. The voice on the other end was still urgent. “Mrs. Harris? Can you hear me? Mrs. Harris!” I hung up and hailed a cab. By the time I arrived, Finn was out of surgery. A crowd was gathered outside his room. Several people in dark blue uniforms were huddled together, talking in low voices. One of them, a young woman, saw me and rushed over, her eyes red. “Where have you been! Do you have any idea that Finn was calling your name right before they took him into the OR?” “How is he?” I asked, my gaze fixed on the hospital room door. The woman’s eyes widened in disbelief, tears spilling down her cheeks. “What are you doing!?” I ignored her and walked towards Finn’s bed. He didn’t look too bad. One eye was swollen shut, but the other was fixed on me. “You’re here… Don’t worry, I’m okay.” I clenched my fists, then pulled the divorce papers and a pen from my briefcase. “Sign this. Otherwise, I’m not paying your medical bills.” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion. The people around us stared, mouths agape. The woman who had yelled at me earlier lunged forward and slapped me hard across the face. “Finn was on the phone with you when he got distracted and crashed!” she screamed. “And you’re using this to threaten him? Are you even human?!” Audrey’s face was grim as she put a hand on my shoulder. “Quinn, Finn and I are just colleagues. If you really don’t believe me, I can quit. But you can’t do this to him. He only has you in his heart.” My cheek stung. I violently shook her hand off. “Who asked you to speak?” I walked back to Finn’s bedside. “If you don’t sign, you can wait for the hospital to kick you out.” Tears streamed from Finn’s open eye. “Why?” I looked at him, my voice heavy. “Because you disgust me.” Finn’s sobs grew more intense, his chest heaving. “I won’t sign. I’d rather die than sign. I love you, Quinn. I haven’t done anything to betray you. I already bought the tickets to Aspen. You said you wanted to go skiing…” A few of the younger women in the room started to cry. A pang of pain shot through my own chest, but it was fleeting. Gritting my teeth, I held the papers out again. “Sign.” Audrey snatched the papers from my hand and ripped them to shreds. “Quinn! How could you? He just got out of surgery! Even if you want a divorce, you can’t do it like this!” I shot her a venomous glare. Before I could speak, Finn intervened. “Audrey, don’t talk to her like that. It’s my fault. I haven’t been a good husband.” He weakly reached out and tugged at the hem of my shirt. I instinctively took a step back. “Don’t touch me.” Finn’s face grew even paler. “I’m not divorcing you over something so trivial. I already requested my vacation time to spend with you…” Audrey stepped forward again. “I’ll just resign when I get back to the office. My conscience is clear. There is absolutely nothing going on between us.” Her righteous declaration instantly painted me as the hysterical, unreasonable wife. The others glared at me with indignation. I suddenly found the whole scene absurdly funny, but I couldn’t bring myself to laugh. After a long silence, I finally spoke. “You’re right. There’s nothing between you. I just don’t want to be married anymore, okay?” Finn looked at me, tears streaming silently down his face. “Quinn, whatever it is, can we please just talk about it after he’s recovered? I’m begging you,” Audrey pleaded, her voice low and earnest. I ignored her, my eyes fixed on Finn. “Sign, or I walk out of here right now. Your choice.” The woman who had slapped me lunged forward again, but someone held her back. “Are you a monster?! He just cheated death! How can you provoke him like this?!” “It’s his life,” I said, my voice calm, almost bored. “It has nothing to do with me.” Finn started coughing violently, his chest rising and falling in ragged gasps. Audrey quickly pressed the call button. A nurse hurried in, frowning at the scene. “The patient needs to rest. Family members, please control your emotions.” A dead silence fell over the room. Finn stared at me through clenched teeth, but he still didn’t give in. “I’m calling our parents,” I said. “Do what you want.” With that, I turned and walked out. I walked in a daze until I found myself at the funeral home where Finn worked. “Are you Quinn?” An older man I didn’t recognize approached me. “You know me?” I asked. He scratched his head, hesitating. “Mr. Harris has a picture of you as his phone’s wallpaper. I’ve seen it.” I forced a smile. “Can you show me where Finn usually works?” He sighed. “Come on, I’ll take you.” The room was cold. I looked around, tapping on surfaces, and accidentally kicked a lighter. It was a brand I’d once mentioned to Finn. I remembered Audrey having one just like it. The older man spoke up. “Last night, Finn really was handling an emergency. I shouldn’t be meddling, but he’s a good man.” I didn’t say anything. My phone rang. It was Finn’s colleague. “Quinn! Where the hell are you? Both of your parents are here! Get your ass back to the hospital!” “Did you hear me?!” I clutched the lighter, my heart a frozen wasteland. When I got back to the hospital, both sets of parents were there, their faces grim. The moment I walked in, my father slapped me.

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I just got back from the hospital. I hadn’t even sat down yet when my wife, Evelyn, started rattling off a to-do list. “Why are you just standing there? Go mop the floor, it’s sticky after days of neglect!” “And the shoe rack, it’s covered in dust!” “Oh, and don’t forget to scrub the toilet. No one’s done it since you were hospitalized!” She didn’t ask if my arm still hurt. She didn’t ask if I was still dizzy. I didn’t move. I stood in the entryway, my arms crossed, surveying the absurd scene. Before, I was the undisputed backbone of this family, tirelessly earning money and handling all the household chores. But this recent accident caused me to lose my memory. My mind had reverted to my carefree single days. Faced with my unfamiliar wife’s bossy demands, my ungrateful son’s disrespect, and my materialistic mother-in-law’s constant meddling, I decided I was done. … “Mark, did you hear me?” Evelyn’s brows furrowed when I remained still. I took off my jacket, hung it on the rack, then leaned back on the sofa, hands clasped behind my head. “I heard you, but I’m not doing it. I just got back from the hospital; I deserve at least a few days to rest!” “Besides, I’ve been in the hospital these past few days. The grime on the floor, the dust on the shoe rack, the stains in the toilet — none of that has anything to do with me. Whoever made the mess can clean it!” The living room fell into an eerie silence. Evelyn’s face flushed crimson at a visible rate. She puffed out her cheeks in anger. “Mark, say that again?” I wasn’t intimidated. I merely glanced at her. “What, do you need me to write it down? Or perhaps we can create a family chat group, and I’ll post it there, tagging everyone.” “You—” Evelyn stormed over to me, her finger practically jabbing my nose. “You dare to speak to me like that? Fine, absolutely fine. Your allowance for this month is gone, not a single penny!” “Whatever!” I walked past her, heading straight for the study. At twenty-five, I earned twelve thousand dollars a month and spent my money as I pleased. At thirty-five, I needed to ask my wife for an allowance. This world truly has a sense of humor. “Mark, you stop right there!” I closed the door, ignoring the screams behind me. The guest room desk was piled with documents: mortgage statements, car loan details, my son’s tutoring fees, and so on. On top was a calendar. Yesterday’s date was circled in red, with a note beside it: “Tenth Wedding Anniversary.” I picked up a pen and drew a large ‘X’ through the red circle. The next morning, at six-thirty, just as dawn was breaking. The study door was knocked on—no, pounded on. “Mark, what time is it? Aren’t you getting up for work?!” My mother-in-law’s voice boomed from outside the door. I yawned as I opened the door, a nagging thought in my head. “Has the sun risen in the west? My mother-in-law is actually calling me to get up early out of kindness.” In the living room, my mother-in-law was already fully dressed. A dark green embroidered dress, pearl earrings that dazzled the eye, and a face thickly powdered as if whitewashed. “What are you dawdling for? Hurry up, you’ll be late!” She clutched her small handbag, impatiently urging me on. Ten minutes later, I was showered and ready, heading to the underground parking garage for my car. As soon as I settled into the driver’s seat, the passenger door clicked open, and a heavy scent of perfume wafted in. My mother-in-law had already efficiently buckled her seatbelt. “First, take me to East Lake Park. Aunt Sharon and her friends brought their new sound system today, and I need to get there early to claim a spot.” It was only then that I realized why she’d woken me up so early. I gripped the steering wheel, turning my head to her in exasperation. “I’m going to work. The park is in the opposite direction.” “I know. Don’t you always drop me off before you go to work?” My mother-in-law applied lipstick in the sun visor mirror, her tone utterly matter-of-fact. Getting up early for work and then having to be my mother-in-law’s chauffeur? The thirty-five-year-old me actually tolerated this? I scoffed inwardly, but on the surface, I remained calm. “Could you please get out for a moment? I’ll adjust the passenger seat for you; it’ll be more comfortable.” As I spoke, I unbuckled her seatbelt. My mother-in-law paused, grumbling, “Always making a fuss,” but she still got out of the car. The moment her feet touched the ground outside the car door, I slammed it shut. I turned the key, and the engine rumbled to life. “Hey! What are you doing—” My mother-in-law realized something was wrong and frantically pounded on the car window. I pressed the accelerator, driving away. Leaving my furious mother-in-law behind. At six in the evening, I got home from work. I had just set down my briefcase and sat on the sofa, hoping to catch my breath. “Bang!” A heavy backpack practically grazed my nose before slamming onto the coffee table. The glass top shook, groaning under the impact. I looked up to see my son, Chris, standing in front of me, one hand in his pocket, the other outstretched. “Old Man, give me money.” His tone was rude and arrogant. I narrowed my eyes, masking the anger within, and forced a smile. “How much do you want? What for?” Chris’s voice was loud and self-righteous. “Five hundred bucks! Ben in my class has this super-cool transforming robot, it’s awesome, and I want it too, the golden collector’s edition!” “Don’t you have enough toys at home? You already have transforming robots. You’ve barely played with that new ‘Bumblebee’ I bought you, have you?” “That’s outdated!” His voice suddenly escalated, with the sharp edge unique to children. “Are you going to give it to me or not? If not, fine, I’ll go ask Mom and Grandma!” He started to turn, as if certain I would give in, or at least call him back to bargain. “Stop right there,” I said loudly. He froze, turning half his face toward me, a hint of a triumphant smirk on his lips. “I’ll say it again: no.” My voice turned cold, with an unmistakable finality. “First, you don’t have a valid reason for that five hundred dollars. Second, even if you did, you should earn it by showing good behavior, not just demanding it. Third—what did you just call me? ‘Old Man’? Who taught you that?” Chris was stunned. “Why won’t you give it to me?!” He violently kicked over the dining chair next to him. “My classmates have it, but I don’t! Are you trying to embarrass me at school, you cheapskate, you loser!” I looked at the overturned dining chair, then at his angry, distorted young face. He was only eight, yet he had already learned to define self-worth through material comparison and vent frustration by insulting his own family. It seemed I needed to exercise my paternal rights properly. “You little brat, it seems reasoning with you is useless.” I slowly rolled up my shirt sleeves, approaching him. “What are you going to do?” He took half a step back, a flicker of panic in his eyes, but his tone was still defiant. “You wouldn’t dare hit me, would you? I’ll tell Mom! I’ll tell Grandma!” “Go ahead and tell them, but before that—” My movements were faster than I expected. Before he could react, I had already grabbed his wrist, twisted it, and tripped him. He yelped as he lost his balance and was firmly pinned to the floor. “Let go of me, you jerk, let go!” He struggled desperately, his face red and neck bulging, tears and snot streaming down, but more than anything, there was anger and disbelief. I held him down with one knee on his back, controlling my strength to avoid injuring him, but not allowing him to break free. “Listen, I’m not giving you the money. If I hear you curse again, next time I won’t be so polite. Also, if you want something, figure out how to earn it yourself. The world doesn’t owe you anything, and I certainly don’t!” Just then, a shriek rang out. “Let go of my grandson!” The scream almost pierced my eardrums. The front door had opened unnoticed, and my mother-in-law and Evelyn stood there. My mother-in-law rushed forward first, trying like a madwoman to push me away. Evelyn, on the other hand, was pale, her lips trembling, her finger shaking as she pointed at me. “Mark, you… are you even human? What are you doing to our child?” I clapped my hands, stood up, and pulled out a tissue to wipe them. “Didn’t you see? I’m disciplining him.” Chris immediately scrambled behind my mother-in-law, crying even louder, adding fuel to the fire with every sob. “He said he was going to kill me… I just wanted a toy, and he wouldn’t buy it for me, and he hit me…” Evelyn’s chest heaved violently. “Discipline? Is that how you discipline a child? You’re barbaric, brutal! What era are we in? Experts say it should be ‘happy education,’ ‘love and freedom’! Look what you’ve done to the child!” My mother-in-law hugged the sobbing Chris tightly, cooing endearments, while shooting me a venomous, resentful glare. “How dare you! How could you lay a hand on him? What’s wrong with a child wanting a toy? It’s only five hundred bucks! Isn’t a happy childhood more important than anything else? Our Chris is so smart, he just wants a new toy, is that so much to ask?!” “Mark, you’ve disappointed me so much. You’re not like a father at all. Get out, get out now and live somewhere else. I don’t want to see you!” Evelyn’s voice was choked with tears, but mostly filled with hysterical accusations. The living room was filled with women’s curses and the child’s wails. Strangely, as I stood there, my heart was utterly calm. I even felt a slight urge to laugh. “Fine, I couldn’t ask for anything more!” I pulled a suitcase from the wardrobe, casually threw in a few changes of clothes, and left without looking back. Just a few days had been enough to reveal the full picture of this family. My wife, Evelyn, was a classic self-serving individual, viewing my contributions as her rightful due. My son, Chris, a seven-year-old brat, was spoiled rotten; “brat” was practically a compliment. My mother-in-law, with her unique talents, managed to enjoy the convenience of my financial support while simultaneously trampling my dignity with the most cutting remarks. This so-called “family” was essentially an exploitative system disguised as kinship, and I was the core component, forbidden to have my own will. I had only experienced a few days of this, and it already felt utterly absurd. I couldn’t imagine how the “me” of thirty-five had endured this for seven whole years, day after day. Even a Ninja Turtle would feel inferior. I picked up my phone and sent a message to my college friend, Mike. Soon, my phone vibrated. Mike replied, “The room’s ready for you, come over anytime. Plenty of beer.” I replied with three words: “On my way.” At Mike’s place, I woke up naturally every day, went out to find good food after work, played a few games with him in the evenings, and went camping and hiking in the mountains on weekends. Carefree and free, this was what life should be. However, five days later, my peaceful and comfortable life was interrupted. Evelyn called me. This was the first time she had initiated contact since I moved out. I let it ring for over ten seconds before slowly picking up. “Mark! Get to City Hospital Two now!” Her voice was sharp and urgent, the background noisy. “Mom was attacked! She’s in the emergency room!” Despite my reluctance, I rushed to the hospital immediately. In the emergency room, my mother-in-law sat on the hospital bed, sighing dramatically. “Oh, my arm… it hurts… it must be broken…” Evelyn stood beside her, her face ashen, harshly scolding a seemingly honest middle-aged couple. “What’s wrong with you two? How dare you assault an elderly person, my mother? If anything serious happens to her, you’ll spend the rest of your lives in prison.” The man of the couple looked distressed, and the woman tried to explain but was drowned out by Evelyn’s loud voice. I examined my mother-in-law. Although her hair was disheveled and her clothes were dusty, her voice was loud, and she seemed full of vigor. Aside from some redness on the back of her hand, there were no signs of serious injury. The doctor who arrived shortly after confirmed my assessment. “The examination results are in. It’s just a superficial scratch, not even a minor injury.”

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