Category: English

The night my husband, Spencer, said, “We’re done,” I didn’t cry. The next morning, I woke at the usual hour. The pitcher on the counter was empty, so I took the bucket out to the spigot in the yard to draw water. The winter water was bone-numbingly cold. When I came back, I lit the electric kettle and reheated last night’s leftovers. The door to his study was still closed—he always slept until the late morning sun hit the window. I wiped the breakfast table until the surface was free of even a hint of grease and set out the simple jarred preserves. Then, I took the spare key I usually kept hanging by the door and placed it gently on the floor beside his slightly worn leather wingtips. I never went back. 1 If I have one skill in this world, it’s endurance. Marrying Spencer Ashworth was the biggest news on our street. I was a worker at The Redwood Canning Facility, perpetually smelling of processed tomatoes and steam. He was a newly hired junior associate at the prestigious Harrington Foundation for the Arts—clean, refined, and his shirt collar was always perfectly starched. Everyone said I’d caught a falling star. My parents agreed, constantly reminding me to cater to his needs, to keep up appearances, and not to lose this dignity he had bestowed upon me. And so, I served. He liked sweets, so I learned to bake delicate, fussy pastries. He complained the house was noisy, so I moved my sewing machine into the hallway. He preferred silence, so I learned to hold my tongue. We’d been married for three years, and he’d never once touched the laundry or dealt with the bills. His mother, a retired elementary school principal, never failed to lecture me during dinner. “Our Spencer is destined for great things. Alice, you must be supportive. You cannot be a weight dragging down his future.” I’d nod and place the choicest, most tender pieces of pot roast in her bowl. Be supportive. I had been supportive for three long years. It wasn’t until the water had gone completely cold that I realized if I stayed submerged any longer, I would freeze to death. Spencer changed after the Foundation’s annual gala. He started coming home later and later. The familiar scent of old paper and ink on his clothes was replaced by a strange, cloyingly sweet designer cologne. At first, I told myself it was just from the party guests. That was until the day I went to drop off a crucial document he’d forgotten. Outside the entrance to the Foundation’s main building, I saw him. He was bent over, holding open the door of a brand-new, charcoal-gray Audi for a woman. She had a stylish, dark, shoulder-length bob, was wearing oversized sunglasses, and had an air of casual wealth about her. It was Vanessa Harrington, the Councilman’s daughter, recently returned from a stint in Europe. The smile on Spencer’s face was one I had never seen directed at me. It was eager, deferential, and radiant. I stood by the gate for a long time, the forgotten papers fluttering in my hand in the sharp breeze. I didn’t go in. I was afraid the smell of tomato paste and steam on my clothes would somehow stain his perfect new picture. I held the documents tight and walked home. That night, when he finally came back, he yelled at me for the first time. “Where are the financials? Don’t you know how urgent that was? You couldn’t even handle one simple thing! What good are you?” I just looked at him, saying nothing. He gave me a look of pure disgust: “You reek of the kitchen. Stay away from me.” He slept in the study that night. 2 From that day on, the study door never opened for me again. Humans, I guess, are a pathetic lot. The more he ignored me, the cleaner I kept the house. I scrubbed the floors three times over. I washed his white dress shirts, meticulously ironing them until they were stiff and immaculate. I thought that if I was good enough, perfect enough, he would eventually come back. Until Mrs. Ashworth came over again. This time, she didn’t bring the usual store-bought pound cake she liked. Her hands were empty. She sat down at my small kitchen table with a face set in stone. “Alice, marrying Spencer was a sacrifice for you.” My heart dropped. That was not her usual line. “Spencer, well, he’s an ambitious boy,” she sighed. “Councilman Harrington sees his potential. He wants to mentor him, and he intends to offer his daughter… Vanessa… to him.” The cup of water I was pouring wobbled in my hand, and the hot liquid spilled onto my wrist, leaving a stinging red welt. “Mom, what are you saying? Spencer… he’s married.” “Married people get divorced!” she suddenly shrieked. “Alice, you need to think about Spencer’s career! What is the Harrington family? They’re royalty! If Spencer connects with them, he’ll be a king. And you?” She looked me up and down: “You’re from a canning facility. You can’t help him. You can only hold him back!” “Our Spencer cannot be ruined because of you.” I looked at this cruel, aging woman. She had eaten my dinners, worn clothes I had washed, and slept in a bed in a home I had cleaned. Now, she was asking me to vacate my life so her son could become a “king.” I said nothing, but placed the water glass heavily on the table. “Mom, your water is cold. I’ll get you fresh.” I turned and walked into the kitchen. That day, I cooked a full, four-course meal—everything Mrs. Ashworth loved. She ate until she was satisfied, and as she left, she reverted to her usual patronizing tone. “Alice, you’re a good girl. You’ll see the sense in this. Don’t worry, the Ashworths will take care of you. Just… name your price.” I smiled and walked her to the door. “Mom, be careful. The sidewalk is slick.” 3 The moment I shut the door, I threw up. I retched violently, as if trying to expel three years of suppressed rage, self-pity, and bitterness along with the bile. Spencer confronted me three days later. He was wearing a brand-new, expensive navy suit, and his hair was slicked back, gleaming. He didn’t look at me. He stared at the framed family photo hanging on the wall—the one taken at my parents’ house after we had just moved in. “Alice, we… we need to end this.” “You’ve heard about Vanessa. She… she can open doors for me.” “It’s not that I look down on you,” he lit a cigarette, the smoke curling and obscuring his face. “It’s that we want different things. I’m looking for the stars and the sea. You… you can only see the four walls of this kitchen.” “Don’t worry,” he pulled a white envelope from his pocket. “Here is five hundred dollars. Consider it compensation. You can stay in the house for now, and then… then you can move out once I’m settled.” Five hundred dollars. Three years of my youth, my dignity, my entire life, valued at five hundred dollars. I laughed. “Spencer Ashworth, have you forgotten? This house was my parents’ inheritance. You are the one who needs to move out.” He froze. He had probably forgotten how he had stood on my doorstep all those years ago, a shy young man with a cheap duffel bag, saying, “Alice, I promise I’ll always take care of you.” His face instantly flushed beet red. “Alice! Don’t be difficult! You think you’re still some pristine maiden? You leave me, and who’s going to want a divorced woman like you?” “I’m telling you, don’t try to cause a scene! If you go to the factory, or worse, the Foundation, I… I have ways of making sure you can’t get a job anywhere in this city!” He slammed the envelope on the table and stormed out, the door shaking the entire house. I looked at the five hundred dollars, slowly sank to the floor, and cried. Not for him, but for the death of those three lost years. The next day, I went to The Redwood Canning Facility. In the packing room, my coworkers were looking at me strangely. Patrice, my closest friend, pulled me aside. “Alice, is it true? About Spencer…” I nodded. Patrice sighed: “I knew it! Yesterday, someone from the City Planning office came by. They were asking about you, dropping hints that you were… quote, ‘emotionally unstable’ and ‘a poor fit for a man of Mr. Ashworth’s caliber.’” “They told the floor manager they were concerned you might hurt the plant’s reputation!” A cold numbness spread through me. Spencer, you are truly ruthless. You didn’t just want my spot; you wanted to destroy my reputation and ensure I had no escape route. I took a deep breath and walked to the manager’s office. “Mr. Davis, I need to quit.” He looked startled: “Alice, you’re one of our best. Why?” “Family matters. I need to go back to my cousin’s farm for a while.” He tried to argue, but I cut him off: “Please, just sign it. I don’t want to cause any trouble for the facility.” He looked at me for a long time, then sighed and stamped the paper. Holding the thin piece of termination paper, I walked out of The Redwood Canning Facility. 4 After working there for five years, I didn’t look back. I didn’t go back to the house. I went to my cousin Georgia’s place. She ran a small, struggling organic farm on the edge of town. She was cash-poor, but big-hearted. After I told her everything, she was furious, slapping her hand repeatedly on her thigh. “That weasel! Alice, you can’t let him get away with this! Come on, I’ll go with you to that fancy Foundation, and we’ll tear his face up!” I pulled her back: “It won’t work, Georgia. He’s the Councilman’s pet project now. We’ll lose.” “But… but you can’t let him push you around! That house is yours! Why should he stay?” “Georgia, I’m done wasting my time on him.” I took out my life savings—a bank book with the $1,500 I’d secretly squirreled away over the years. “Georgia, I want to go South.” She stared at me: “The Coastal Crescent? That far away! You’ll be alone, you don’t know anyone…” “If I stay here, I won’t survive.” If I stayed, I would be the woman people whispered about. Spencer and Vanessa would be two mountains crushing me, blocking out the sun. Seeing my resolve, Georgia stopped arguing. She pressed two hundred dollars and a basket of fresh eggs into my hands. “Take this. When you get settled, send me a postcard.” My eyes stung, but I took the money. I didn’t sleep that night. I made a list. The next day, I put on my oldest clothes, a baseball cap, and went back to my house. Spencer wasn’t there. I packed only my essentials with furious speed: a few changes of clothes, the silver locket my mother left me. Then, I went next door to Mrs. Gina’s house (I localized the name to Mrs. Bell). Mrs. Bell was my kind, nosy, long-time neighbor. I gave her my remaining pantry staples—canned goods, a bag of dried beans, and the jars of homemade pickles I’d prepared. “Mrs. Bell, I’m going to stay with my cousin for a while. These things will just spoil. Please use them.” Mrs. Bell, unsuspecting, happily took them. “Alice, you’re too good for that Spencer. Never home, always expecting you to wait on him.” I smiled vaguely, not responding. Before leaving, I casually mentioned: “Mrs. Bell, all the furniture in my living room was my parents’ inheritance. I’m worried about Spencer’s family coming over and helping themselves to things. Would you… would you keep an eye out? If anything happens, maybe call a few of the boys on the block and help me move it into your garage for safekeeping?” Mrs. Bell thumped her chest: “Don’t you worry, honey! No one touches your things in this neighborhood!” I thanked her, grabbed my small duffel bag, and walked away without a backward glance. Spencer, you wanted your “stars and the sea”? Well, I just smashed your kitchen.

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The moment the zombie apocalypse hit, my husband turned our basement into a doomsday bunker. But my best friend died getting me inside, and my husband was killed on a supply run. Before dying, he yelled through the steel door, warning: “Don’t come out! It’s crawling with zombies! Stay inside and live a good life with the baby!” I stayed in that dark basement for three months. When supplies ran out, I tried to escape—throwing myself against the heavy iron door. What greeted me wasn’t zombies, but sunlight. No apocalypse. Standing there were my husband—alive—kissing my best friend in a wedding gown. And me, in a hazmat suit, holding a wrench, looking like something from the depths. It was all a lie—a twisted plan to trap me while he ran off with her. Just as I prepared to fight back, I heard a tiny voice in my head—from my own womb: [Mom, I’m from the future. The zombies are real. The outbreak is in one week!] … “Zombies?” When I spat the word out, Marcus looked at me as if I’d just told the funniest joke in the world. “Only an idiot like you would fall for that,” he sneered. “It was just some bullshit I made up to lock you in the basement.” “Honestly, I was hoping you’d starve to death down there, you and the baby. One neat package, no mess for us to clean up. I have to admit, you’re tougher than I thought, crawling out of there with that parasite in you.” My mind went completely blank. “How can it be fake? I saw a zombie bite Veronica’s neck with my own eyes. There was so much blood…” I looked at Veronica’s neck. The skin was smooth and flawless. There was no gruesome wound, only a fresh, red hickey. I was utterly lost. “Hahahaha!” Veronica couldn’t hold it in any longer, doubling over with laughter. “Aurora, pregnancy really has made you stupid. You can’t even tell the difference between a zombie costume and a packet of fake blood?” She swiped through her phone’s photo gallery, showing me the screen. On it was a picture of a hyper-realistic zombie suit. Marcus wrapped his arm around Veronica’s waist. “Vivi and I have been together for a long time. You were in the way, so we came up with this little plan to get rid of you. Get it now?” It was all an act. A meticulously staged play to make me believe the world had ended. For three agonizing months, every single day had been a torment of guilt, blaming myself for their deaths. Now, thinking back, I felt like the biggest fool on earth. “Marcus, this is false imprisonment! I can sue you!” “Sue me?” Marcus pointed smugly to a small memorial niche in the corner of the room. Inside, there was a black-and-white photo of me. “You’ve been missing for three months. Everyone thinks you’re dead. We even held a funeral for you.” “Legally, you don’t exist anymore. You don’t even have the standing to sue.” Veronica sidled up to me, her voice a menacing whisper. “Your sprawling downtown apartment, the dozens of luxury cars in the garage, the company you worked so hard to build… it’s all in our names now.” “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll walk away and disappear. Don’t make a scene. If you cause any more trouble, we’ll just call the cops and tell them you’ve had a psychotic break. We’ll have you committed, and you’ll never see the sun again.” Marcus let out a fake sigh, his voice dripping with false sincerity. “Aurora, you can’t blame us. You can only blame yourself for being so gullible. Who actually believes in a zombie apocalypse?” “But, for old times’ sake, I can be generous. You can have the basement.” My hand tightened around the wrench. A single thought consumed me: to smash it into their two hideous faces, to drag them down with me. But just then, a soft, tiny voice echoed in my mind again. [A fully-equipped, zombie-proof doomsday bunker, free of charge? This is a jackpot! Mommy, take the deal!] The sudden voice startled me, but I realized it was coming from the baby in my belly. “You’re… my child?” [Yes! I traveled back from the future! The zombies are real! We need to hurry and stock up on supplies. There’s no more time to waste!] But I had just learned the apocalypse was a lie. How could I believe it again so easily? The voice grew urgent. [If you don’t believe me, Mommy, go to a lottery vendor right now!] After a moment of hesitation, I walked to the convenience store at the entrance of our gated community. Following the numbers whispered in my mind, I bought a ticket. At 7 PM, the winning numbers were announced. They matched my ticket. Perfectly. The jackpot: one hundred million dollars. [Now do you believe me, Mommy? I really am from the future, and the zombies are really coming!] [There are six days and twenty-three hours until the apocalypse begins. We need to use this money and start hoarding! I want to eat ham in the future, not zombie jerky!] In that moment, all doubt vanished. I believed every word from my unborn child. And I began to look forward to that day. Marcus, I hope you don’t regret today’s decision when you find out the zombies are real. The irony was that Marcus, in his effort to make his lie believable, had spared no expense on the basement. The concrete walls were reinforced with steel I-beams. The entrance was a custom-made blast door with three deadbolts and a fingerprint scanner. It had a state-of-the-art air filtration system, a groundwater collection system, and a backup generator. The prison he had so carefully designed for me had just become my five-star shelter for the real end of the world. Seven days. It wasn’t much time, but it was enough. With the winning lottery ticket in hand, my first thought was to get my parents. In an apocalypse, blood is the only thing you can trust. But when I used my key to open their front door, I froze. The entryway was cluttered with shoes I didn’t recognize. The family portrait on the living room wall was gone, replaced by a wedding photo of Marcus’s parents. If my key hadn’t worked, I would have thought I was at the wrong house. My in-laws shot up from the couch, grabbing a broom and swinging it at me. “You curse! Weren’t you already dead? What are you doing back here?!” I dodged the blow, my voice ice-cold. “Where are my parents?” “You have the nerve to ask?” my father-in-law spat. “You worried them sick! They’re locked up in a psychiatric hospital!” My mother-in-law shrieked, “If I had a disgraceful daughter like you, I’d go crazy too!” CRACK. Perhaps it was years of pent-up rage finally exploding, but I slapped her across the face. Without another glance at them, I spun around and sprinted out the door, heading for the hospital. The moment my parents saw me, they froze, their faces a mask of disbelief. “Aurora… is it really you? You’re alive?” A lump formed in my throat, a thousand words stuck in my chest. As we sat down, I finally learned what had happened over the past three months. Marcus had told everyone I’d run off with another man, even claiming the baby wasn’t his. Then, he’d somehow obtained a death certificate for me, legally seizing all my assets before marrying Veronica. The double blow of grief and betrayal had broken my parents’ health. And Marcus, seeing his chance, had forged medical documents and had them committed. I told them everything: the elaborate lie, Marcus and Veronica’s betrayal, and the coming apocalypse. As I finished, my heart was in my throat. After all, I’d already been imprisoned for three months because I believed in this very story. To my surprise, my dad shot to his feet, his eyes resolute. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go buy supplies!” Seeing my stunned expression, my mom smiled. “Sweetheart, you’re our only daughter. Who else would we believe? And if the apocalypse doesn’t happen, we’ll just sell the supplies at a discount!” The baby’s voice piped up in my head. [Grandpa and Grandma are the best! Let’s go, Mommy, we only have six days and twenty hours left!] There was no time to lose. I took my parents straight to the city’s largest warehouse supermarket. Drawing on his experience running a factory, my dad ordered tons of rice, flour, oil, and frozen meat under the guise of a corporate purchase. Worried about spoilage, I bought mountains of instant noodles, self-heating meals, and compressed biscuits. Mom gathered vitamins, first-aid supplies, toiletries, and even quietly added several boxes of baby formula and diapers to our cart. The next day, Dad brought in a construction crew and secretly dug an escape tunnel from the other side of the basement out to the woods behind the property. The entrance to the bunker wasn’t far from Marcus’s villa. Veronica and Marcus stood on their porch, watching truck after truck of supplies being unloaded, their faces etched with mockery. “Aurora, are you really making that dump your home? Planning to hide in there with those two old geezers for the rest of your life?” Marcus’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “I think she’s really lost it. We made up some stupid story about the end of the world, and she’s gone so deep into character she thinks she’s the star of a prepper novel.” Veronica was shaking with laughter. “It’ll be hilarious when she’s squatting in the dark, eating expired ramen after blowing through her parents’ retirement savings, while we’re upstairs eating tomahawk steaks.” I stared coldly at the two clowns. Five days. In five days, the luxury cars, designer brands, and social status they cherished would be nothing but scrap metal. And the magnificent villa they were so proud of would become the coffin they had chosen for themselves. Ignoring them, I helped my parents move the last of the supplies into the bunker. The space was vast, more than enough for the three of us. I thought we had prepared for everything, but my baby’s voice, sharp with urgency, spoke again. [Mommy, the day the zombies appear, there will be a massive rainstorm! The bunker is low-lying! Buy sump pumps, now, or we’ll all drown!] A jolt of fear went through me. I quickly checked the weather forecast. Sure enough, a severe storm warning was predicted for five days from now. I immediately ordered four industrial-grade, high-power sump pumps. Dad also had his crew dig a concealed drainage channel around the entrance overnight. The construction noise woke Veronica. She stood on her balcony, filming us with her phone. A sense of dread washed over me. Sure enough, half an hour later, I came across a livestream. In it, Veronica was pointing her camera at our bunker entrance, her voice dripping with scorn. “Hey everyone, check this out! My best friend had a little breakdown and now she thinks the zombies are coming. She’s not just hoarding supplies, she’s digging trenches! It’s so ridiculous.” The stream’s viewership skyrocketed. The comments flew by. [Someone’s read too many apocalypse novels. Does she think this is fiction?] [If my neighbor hoards grain, I hoard guns. My neighbor is my granary. If zombies do show up, the streamer can just go raid them.] Reading the comments, my palms grew sweaty. My parents’ faces were grim. “Just having supplies isn’t enough,” my dad said. “When the world ends, there’s no law and order. A stash like this is just a death warrant.” But all we could find were knives and axes, useless in a real apocalypse. As we sat there, worried, the baby spoke again. [Mommy, go find Uncle Nash! His family has the ‘big toys’!] Nash? My sharp-tongued high school classmate who’d gone abroad to work in private security and international trade? [Yep! Contact him now, Mommy! Before it’s too late!] I sent him a text. [Nash, can you get your hands on anything for self-defense? The world is ending.] He replied instantly. [Lost a game of truth or dare? Or did you get hacked? The end of the world? You might as well tell me the aliens have landed and they need gift cards.] My heart sank. But then my phone buzzed again. [Why’d you go quiet? Are you actually in trouble?] [Send me your address. Now.]

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I was ten years old when I watched a sedan lose control and tear my brother out of this world. The driver didn’t stop. The taillights just dissolved into the rain, leaving my brother dying in my arms and my right leg shattered, a ruin of bone and blood that would leave me with a limp for the rest of my life. After that, the concept of “family” evaporated. I thought that was it. I thought my life was destined to be a series of limping steps through an endless gray corridor. I was just surviving, dragging my bad leg through the shadows. Then I met Harrison. He was the definition of a lifeline—gentle, attentive, a rising star at one of the city’s top law firms. He didn’t look at my leg with pity. He didn’t mind the uneven rhythm of my walk. When the nightmares came, he would hold me until my shaking stopped, whispering against my hair that the past couldn’t hurt me anymore. On our three-year anniversary, he invited me to his parents’ estate. It was time, he said, to make it official. Harrison came from money. Old money. His father was a retired federal judge; his mother, a titanium-spined businesswoman. Their home was the kind of sprawling colonial revival mansion I’d only ever seen in architectural digest spreads. Dinner was an exercise in high-stakes etiquette. The crystal gleamed; the conversation was polite and airless. Then his mother, Victoria—a woman who wore her sixty years like a tailored suit, impeccable and expensive—decided to break the ice with a charming little anecdote from her youth. “Oh, I was a menace back then,” she laughed, swirling her Cabernet. “I’d just gotten my license and decided to ‘borrow’ your father’s prized vintage Jaguar. I was terrified, driving way out in the boonies. I hit something—a large dog, I think—and I panicked. Just drove right off.” She took a delicate sip of wine, her eyes crinkling with amusement. “The front bumper was caved in. I spent my entire allowance paying a mechanic to fix it in secret. Your father still doesn’t know.” She winked at her husband. “Thank god that road was deserted. No cameras back in the nineties. It would have been a scandal.” The silver fork slipped from my fingers. It hit the porcelain plate with a violence that silenced the room. The make of the car. The stretch of road in the suburbs. The timestamp—a rainy evening in late autumn. Every detail locked into place, sliding over the jagged edges of my trauma with terrifying precision. I looked at Harrison. His face had drained of blood. He was staring at his water glass, refusing to meet my eyes. And in that split second, the air left the room. I understood. He wasn’t my savior. He was the hush money. 1. The sound of my fork hitting the china echoed like a gunshot. Victoria’s smile faltered, a hairline fracture in a perfect porcelain mask. She looked at me, a flicker of annoyance crossing her brow, as if I’d committed a minor social faux pas. “Nora, dear? Is something wrong with the steak?” Harrison’s father, the Honorable Judge Montgomery, lowered his Wall Street Journal. His gaze behind his wire-rimmed glasses was heavy, judicial. I didn’t look at them. My eyes were locked on Harrison. His hand was resting on the white tablecloth, knuckles gripping the stem of his wine glass so hard the skin had turned translucent. Sweat beaded at his temple, but he was too paralyzed to wipe it away. “Harrison.” My voice was barely a whisper, yet it carried a chill I didn’t know I possessed. “That road your mother mentioned… was it Blackwood Road?” Harrison flinched as if I’d struck him. The elegant veneer on Victoria’s face cracked. Her eyes narrowed, sharp and predatory. “How would you know that name?” I tried to smile, but I felt the muscles in my face contort into something grotesque. “Because that is where my brother died.” I pushed the words out through the constriction in my throat. “He was killed by a hit-and-run driver in a vintage car.” “On a rainy evening. Just like the one you described.” Silence descended on the dining room, heavy and suffocating. It felt like the oxygen had been vacuumed out. Victoria’s expression shifted—confusion, then realization, then pure, unadulterated terror. Her face went ashen. Smash. Her wine glass slipped from her fingers, shattering against the hardwood floor. The red wine splattered across the Persian rug like a fresh arterial spray. “You… you’re talking nonsense!” Her voice pitched up, shrill and jagged. “Blackwood Road? I don’t remember any road names! It was a deer! Or a dog!” “You don’t remember?” I repeated slowly. I turned my head toward the window, toward the garage where a shiny new Porsche sat. “That Jaguar… the license plate ended in 77, didn’t it?” I leaned forward. “My brother… with his last breath, he managed to whisper two numbers.” Victoria’s lips trembled. The silence stretched, thin and taut. Harrison finally moved. He shot up from his chair, grabbing my wrist. His grip was bruising, desperate. “Nora! Stop. You need to calm down. This is a misunderstanding. My mother, she—” “A misunderstanding?” I ripped my arm away from him and stood up. My bad leg buckled under the sudden movement, pain shooting up my hip. I grabbed the edge of the table to steady myself. “Tell me, Harrison. What part of this is a misunderstanding?” “You knew who I was the day we met, didn’t you?” “You approached me. You courted me. You loved me. All because your mother slaughtered my brother. Is that it?” “Your love, your kindness, your patience—it’s all counterfeit. It’s guilt money! Isn’t it?” My voice rose with every sentence, climbing a ladder of hysteria. Harrison! He looked at me, his handsome face crumbling into gray ash. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He couldn’t deny it. “Enough!” The shout came from the head of the table. Judge Montgomery slammed his palm down on the wood. He stood up, his presence looming large. The cold detachment of the courtroom settled over his features. “Miss Vance. Watch your tone.” He adjusted his cuffs. “The police closed that case decades ago. Insufficient evidence. It was an unfortunate accident.” “To come into my home, eat my food, and accuse my wife of a felony based on a coincidence? It is not only rude, it is slanderous.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried the weight of authority. The threat was implicit. I looked at them. The panicked murderer. The lying coward. The complicit enabler. Perfect. A perfect American family. A laugh bubbled up in my throat, wet and bitter. Tears spilled over my lashes. “You’re right. I’m being rude.” I wiped my face with the back of my hand. Slowly, painfully, I turned toward the door. “Excuse me, Judge. I seem to have lost my appetite.” 2. I thought I would run. I thought I would get in my car and drive until the gas tank ran dry. But I barely made it past the wrought-iron gates before Harrison caught me. “Nora! Wait! Please, you have to listen!” He wrapped his arms around me from behind, burying his face in my neck. I could feel his hot tears on my skin. “I’m sorry. Nora, God, I am so sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt you.” “I first saw you in my father’s old case files. There was a photo of you at the scene, holding your brother, screaming. It haunted me.” “I admit it. I found you because I wanted to help. I wanted to… to balance the scales for what my mother did.” “But I fell in love with you! You have to believe me. The last three years were real!” His grip tightened, as if he were trying to physically hold me together. An hour ago, this confession might have moved me. It might have broken my heart. Now, it just made me want to vomit. Balance the scales? He thought his affection was currency? That his love could purchase a life? I stood rigid in his embrace. When his sobbing subsided, I spoke. My voice was dead. “So, you admit it.” Harrison froze. “I…” “Your mother killed Toby.” Silence. The silence was the verdict. I shoved him away. I looked at his face—that face I had kissed a thousand times—and saw nothing but a stranger. “Harrison. We’re done.” “No! Nora, you can’t do this!” He grabbed my shoulders, his eyes frantic. “We were going to get married. We talked about Paris. We talked about a life…” “Married?” I let out a sharp, incredulous bark of laughter. “To you? Am I supposed to sit at Thanksgiving dinner across from the woman who ran over my brother?” “She didn’t mean to! She was young, she was scared…” “So she left a ten-year-old boy to bleed out in a ditch? And she’s slept soundly in her silk sheets for twenty years?” He had no answer. Behind him, the heavy oak door of the house opened. Victoria stepped out. She had wrapped a cashmere shawl around her shoulders. The panic was gone, replaced by the icy, transactional demeanor of a woman who negotiates hostile takeovers. “Miss Vance. Let’s cut to the chase.” She walked down the steps, her heels clicking on the stone. “I know your background. I know the struggle. Let’s talk numbers.” “A condo in the city. Fully paid for. A new car. And let’s say… five million in cash.” She paused, gauging my reaction like she was appraising a piece of real estate. “That’s enough to ensure you never have to work another day in your life. Forget the past. Stay with Harrison if you want, or don’t. But take the deal. It’s best for everyone.” I looked at her. I looked at this woman who had crushed my brother’s body and now wanted to crush his memory with a checkbook. To people like her, pain is just a line item in a budget. I smiled. “Okay.” Harrison blinked. Victoria exhaled, a triumphant smirk touching her lips. I held her gaze. “I don’t want your money.” “I want you to go to my brother’s grave. I want you to get on your knees. And I want you to beg him for forgiveness.” 3. Victoria’s face mottled with rage. “You’re out of your mind,” she hissed. “You expect me to kneel in the dirt for a dead boy? Who do you think you are?” “Mom!” Harrison stepped between us, terrified. I ignored her outburst. I kept my eyes on Harrison. “That is the price. Take it or leave it.” “If you don’t, I go to the police. Tonight.” The word police hit Victoria like a physical blow. She swayed. The Judge stepped onto the porch. “Miss Vance,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Be very careful. Scorched earth tactics rarely work against people with resources.” “I have friends in the DA’s office. I have friends in the press. If you drag this out, you will find yourself buried in litigation and slander suits until you can’t afford a loaf of bread.” It was a naked threat. They were telling me that truth didn’t matter. Power mattered. “So, no deal?” I asked. The Judge glared at me. “Fine.” I pulled out my phone. I started dialing 9-1-1. “Wait!” Harrison lunged, grabbing my hand. He spun around to his parents, his face twisted in agony. “Dad, Mom. Just do it.” “We… we owe her this.” “Harrison! Have you lost your spine?” Victoria shrieked. “You want me to—” “Mom!” Harrison shouted, his voice cracking. “Please! If you don’t, she’ll destroy us. All of us!” Victoria trembled. She looked at me with pure, distilled hatred. If looks could kill, I would have joined my brother right then. Finally, she slumped against Harrison, defeated. “Fine,” she spat. “Fine. I’ll do it.” “Tomorrow. I’ll go tomorrow.” I lowered my phone. “Not tomorrow.” “Tonight.” I wasn’t going to give them time to call their lawyers, to spin the story, to find a way out. Harrison paled. Victoria looked like she might faint. “Tonight? It’s almost midnight! The cemeteries are closed!” “Then we go to Blackwood Road,” I said, my voice steel. “The exact spot where you hit him.” “I want you to kneel where he died.” 4. The night was suffocatingly dark. Blackwood Road was a tunnel of trees and shadows. The wind howled through the branches, a mournful, hollow sound. We parked on the shoulder. It was deserted. Victoria, shivering in her expensive dress, lowered herself onto the wet asphalt. Her knees hit the grit. She was shaking—from cold, from rage, from humiliation. Harrison stood beside her, looking like a ghost. The Judge stayed in the Mercedes, the headlights cutting through the darkness, illuminating us like actors on a stage. “Is this enough?” Victoria gritted out through chattered teeth. “I’m kneeling. Are you happy?” I didn’t answer. I reached into my purse and pulled out a photograph. It was Toby. He was twelve in the picture, grinning, missing a tooth, holding a baseball bat. I placed the photo on the wet road in front of her. “Look at him.” “Tell me,” I whispered. “Why did you kill him?” Victoria flinched, turning her head away. “I… I told you, it was an accident. It was dark. It was raining…” “You didn’t see him?” I laughed, a broken sound. “You stopped the car, didn’t you?” Victoria’s head snapped toward me. Her eyes went wide. “How… how do you know that?” “Toby told me.” Tears finally spilled over, hot and fast. “He wasn’t dead immediately. He was conscious. He saw your brake lights. He thought you were coming to help him.” “But you didn’t.” “You waited. Five seconds. Maybe ten. And then…” I choked on the bile rising in my throat. “Then you hit the gas. You felt the bump as the tires went over him.” I was shaking now, vibrating with the memory I had suppressed for a decade. I was there. Hiding in the rhododendrons, paralyzed by fear, too young to understand, too terrified to scream. “No! That’s a lie!” Victoria screamed, shaking her head violently. “I didn’t run him over! I just drove away! I just left!” “Is that so?” I crouched down, forcing myself into her eyeline. “Then look at him. Look at his eyes and say it again.” I shoved the photo closer. Victoria looked. Really looked. And something in her snapped. “Get it away! Get him away from me!” She scrambled back on her hands and knees, screeching like a banshee. She broke. The façade of the elegant socialite dissolved into pure, primal guilt. Harrison rushed forward, shielding his mother, looking at me with betrayal. “Nora! That’s enough!” “She apologized! She knelt! What more do you want?” “Do you want blood? Is that it?” I looked at him. The man who claimed to love me, now hugging the monster who ruined my life. “Blood?” I stood up, wiping my face. “Harrison, you have it all wrong.” “I don’t want you dead.” “I want something much worse than death.” I turned my back on them and walked into the darkness.

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I found the burner phone at the bottom of Naomi Caroline’s safety deposit box. It wasn’t even password-protected. It took only three seconds to boot up. But those three seconds were all it took to shatter seven years of marriage. The wallpaper wasn’t our wedding photo. It was a candid shot of a young man. He sat at a piano, his profile soft, almost luminous. Naomi was standing slightly in the shadow, and the depth of affection—the sheer, suffocating restraint—in her eyes was thick enough to drown in. It was a Naomi I had never seen. The young man was Liam Lee, a college student Naomi and I had been sponsoring for years. My hands and feet went numb. I tapped open the Notes app. [2018, I married Oliver Zachary. He’s compliant. He’s suitable for a husband. He makes the family happy. But how… how have I fallen for the scholarship kid?] [2020, Liam came back. We finally talked. It’s real. It’s mutual. Seeing him cry, my heart aches.] [2023, If I get pregnant, Liam will be sad. So, no baby.] The phone slid from my fingers. Finally, I understood. Why, in seven years of marriage, Naomi had only conceived once, and why, after that miscarriage, we had never tried again. 1 Naomi walked in just as I was kneeling on the floor, the old phone clutched in my hand. She was carrying a box of the best caramel cake from that bakery downtown—the one she knew I loved. The warmth in the room was immediately scattered by the chill she brought in. When she saw what I was holding, her motion of slipping off her Manolos froze mid-step. The gentle look she’d been wearing instantly evaporated. “Oliver, who told you to go into that safe?” Her voice was sharp, a freezing jab. No explanation. No panic. Her first word was an accusation. I looked up. My eyes felt dry and raw, burning with a pain too deep for tears. “Naomi. Seven years.” My throat was desperately hoarse. I pointed a trembling finger at the screen. “Is everything written here… true?” Naomi strode over, snatched the phone by gripping my wrist, and immediately switched it off. She shoved it deep into her coat pocket, her brow tightly furrowed. “Everyone has a past, Oliver, things they don’t want broadcast. You’ve crossed a line.” I nearly laughed, my heart clenching with a sickening, rhythmic ache. “Things you don’t want broadcast? You hid your feelings for another man right inside the heart of our marriage, and you call that ‘things you don’t want broadcast’?” “You married me just to appease your family? You wouldn’t have a child with me because you were afraid Liam would be ‘sad’?” “Naomi, you’re disgusting.” “Enough!” Naomi roared, then casually tossed the box of caramel cake onto the coffee table. The box tilted. Cream smeared across the mahogany. She took a deep, controlling breath, as if wrestling a beast inside her, and reverted to that cool, ruthlessly rational self. “Liam has a fragile disposition, you know that. He’s too sensitive for conflict.” “If we were meant to be, it would have happened long ago, and you wouldn’t be in the picture.” “I married you because you’re suitable, and also… because,” she paused, a flicker of annoyance in her eyes, “I don’t actively dislike you. Have I been a bad wife to you? You had the title of ‘Mr. Caroline’, a credit card with no limit, everything you asked for was yours.” I looked at the woman standing before me. Just yesterday, she would wake up instantly if I had a leg cramp in the middle of the night, no matter how deep her sleep, massaging my calf until I fell back asleep. I thought that was love. It was all an act. A performance. “I don’t actively dislike you…” I repeated the words, a dull, hollow thud in my chest. “Naomi, that’s your answer to seven years of my life?” She pressed her temples, then reached out to pull me up. “Stop this drama, Oliver. Liam had a frustrating moment at the gallery opening today, and he’s upset. I need to go check on him.” “Stay here. Cool down.” “When you’ve figured out what you should and shouldn’t ask, we can talk.” With that, she turned to leave. The hem of her cashmere coat brushed my face, carrying a sudden, cold draft. “Naomi!” I shouted at her retreating back, “If you walk out that door today, we are getting a divorce!” She paused at the door. But she didn’t turn around. “Oliver, don’t threaten me with divorce. Without the Caroline name, you think you’ll live this comfortably for long?” “Don’t be a child. Grow up.” 2 I had a fever. It must have been the stress, or maybe sitting on the cold marble floor all night. My temperature hit 103 degrees. I felt like I was simultaneously burning and freezing. In a semiconscious haze, I automatically reached for Naomi’s number. In the past, even a slight cough would stop her mid-global conference; she’d rush home. This time, the phone rang for a long time. “Hello?” But it wasn’t Naomi’s voice. It was Liam. Soft, syrupy, laced with the lazy languor of just waking up. “Oh, Oliver? Naomi’s in the shower.” In the shower at Liam’s place, first thing in the morning? I clenched my jaw, clinging to the last shred of my control. “Put her on.” “Oh, Oliver, don’t be mad, okay?” Liam let out a soft, little laugh. “I accidentally spilled coffee all over Naomi yesterday. You know how much of a germaphobe she is, so she just stayed in the guest room. She’s such a thoughtful caretaker, too. Last night… I was so exhausted, but she took such good care of me.” Every word was a deliberate stab into my chest. “Liam,” my voice was shaking, beyond my control. “Put her on the phone!” “What is it?” Naomi’s low, slightly scratchy voice came through, thick with sleep. Then Liam’s petulant whine: “Naomi, Oliver’s angry. He’s doing a check-in.” “Oliver?” Naomi’s tone instantly turned cold. “It’s too early for this. What are you playing at?” Hot tears spilled from my eyes, tracking a burning path into my hair. “Naomi, I have a fever. I’m really sick… I need to go to the hospital.” Even after seeing those notes, even after the fight yesterday. In that desperate moment, I clung to a ridiculous, seven-year-old illusion. Seven years. Surely, even a stray pet earns some loyalty? There were two seconds of silence on the line. Then, the sound of clothes rustling. Naomi’s tone softened, marginally. “What’s your temperature?” “103 degrees.” “Take some Tylenol first. Have the driver take you.” Her voice was measured, still calm. “Liam’s painting isn’t properly hung yet, and he can’t reach. I’ll help him finish and then come home.” A painting wasn’t hung yet. I was burning up, close to passing out, and my wife was helping another man hang art. “Naomi…” I gasped, weak and struggling for breath. “If I don’t get to the emergency room, I could—I’m allergic to penicillin. The house medicine is all out…” “Ah!” Liam’s sudden shriek came from the other end. Followed by the sound of something heavy crashing to the floor. “Liam! What happened?” Naomi’s voice was instantly saturated with a sheer, panicked urgency she had never shown for me. “My hand… Naomi, the frame hit my hand! It hurts so much…” Liam was sobbing. “Don’t move! Let me see! It’s bleeding… Just bear with it, I’ll take you to get it bandaged immediately!” Chaos erupted on the line. I was completely forgotten. “Naomi…” I tried to make a sound. To tell her that I hurt, too. That my heart was hemorrhaging. But the line went dead. I held the phone, staring up at the glittering chandelier on the ceiling, my vision blurring. It was crystal clear now. In her world: A scratch on Liam’s finger was a five-alarm emergency. My high fever and life-or-death crisis was just “stop playing at this.” I forced myself up, swaying unsteadily as I tried to get downstairs. Halfway down the staircase, the world went black. I lost control and tumbled down the rest of the steps. A searing pain enveloped me. In the last fragmented moment before consciousness faded. I saw Naomi at eighteen. The girl in a white shirt, carrying me on her back across the football field after I twisted my ankle, sweat pouring down her face. She said: “Oliver, don’t be afraid. I’ve got you. I will never let you get hurt.” Liar. Naomi, you are a complete and utter liar. 3 When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. I flexed my fingers. My whole body ached as if I’d been dismantled. “You’re awake?” Naomi was sitting by the bed, peeling an apple. Seeing my eyes open, she cut a small slice and offered it to my mouth, her expression as gentle as if nothing had happened yesterday. “Why so clumsy? You can’t even handle a flight of stairs.” “Slight concussion, fractured right leg.” “Oliver, you’re a grown man. Can you please stop making me worry?” Her tone held a mix of scolding and that familiar, high-handed weariness. I turned my head away, avoiding the apple. “Is Liam’s finger… bandaged up?” I stared out the window, my voice flat. Naomi’s hand froze mid-air. Then, she tossed the apple into the trash. “Oliver, how much longer are you going to keep this act up?” “Liam was injured while hanging a painting. His hand is his livelihood! You? You just had a fever. Is this really necessary, to nearly kill yourself just for sympathy?” Sympathy? I spun my head back, locking my gaze on hers. “Naomi, did I not want to go to the hospital?” “I begged you to come home, and you said you had to help him hang art!” “I was rolling down the stairs, close to death, and you were coddling him, telling him to stop crying!” “Sympathy? I risked my life to get your sympathy. You don’t deserve it.” Naomi’s face darkened instantly. She stood up, towering over me. “Oliver, watch your tone.” “I am your wife.” “Not for long.” I met her gaze without flinching. “I’m having the divorce papers drawn up.” “You wouldn’t dare!” Naomi grabbed my jaw with a force that made me feel my teeth might shatter. Her eyes were blazing, a mix of fury and an almost stunned disbelief at my defiance. “Oliver, where will you go after the divorce? Back to the Zachary family, who haven’t cared about you in a decade? Or sleep on the street?” “Everything you have was given by me! Your studio, your connections, the clothes on your back!” “Without Naomi Caroline, what are you, Oliver Zachary?” I was once the top student in the Architecture program at A-State. I had won international design awards. But for her, to be a good husband, I turned down one project after another, dimmed all my lights, and stayed near the kitCaroline stove. Now, she asked me what I was. “Then we’ll see.” I pushed her hand away, speaking each word distinctly. “We’ll see if I starve to death without Naomi Caroline.” “Fine. Very well.” Naomi laughed, a brittle, infuriated sound. She smoothed the crease in her sleeve. “Since you have such backbone, let’s see you stand tall.” “Cancel all his cards.” She gave the order to her assistant by the door, her voice icy. “Pull all the funding from his studio projects.” “I want to see how many days he lasts.” With that, she slammed the door and left. From outside, I could vaguely hear Liam’s voice. “Naomi, don’t be angry. Oliver is probably just delirious from the fever… I made you some soup…” “You’re the only sensible one.” Naomi’s voice softened, trailing into the distance. I closed my eyes. Two hot tears slipped out. 4 No one came to pick me up on the day of my discharge. I walked out of the hospital, leaning heavily on a cane, moving one agonizing step at a time. My cards were canceled. My phone couldn’t process a payment. I searched every pocket and found only a few dozen dollars in loose change. I hailed a taxi back to the house Naomi and I shared. Even if I was leaving, I needed my ID and the belongings my parents left me. I pushed the door open to the sound of laughter. Liam, wearing my silk pajamas, was curled up on the sofa, feeding Naomi grapes. Naomi was looking at her tablet, occasionally opening her mouth to accept a grape, her eyes full of doting affection. When he saw me, Liam tried to jump up awkwardly, only to “accidentally” tumble into Naomi’s lap. “Oh! Oliver! You… you’re back?” Naomi naturally wrapped an arm around his waist, then looked up at me. Her eyes were glacial, like I was a stranger. “Decided to come home? I thought you were going to be defiant forever.” I ignored her sarcasm, leaning on my cane and heading straight for the master bedroom upstairs. “Stop.” Naomi’s voice was frigid. “Who gave you permission to go upstairs?” I paused, turning back. “I’m getting my things.” “There are no ‘your things’ here.” Naomi idly played with a strand of Liam’s hair. “I had someone throw everything out.” My whole body jerked. I stared at her in disbelief. “Threw them out? Naomi, that included my parents’ mementos! And all my design sketches!” “So what?” Naomi sneered. “I told you, this house doesn’t keep idle hands, and it certainly doesn’t keep garbage.” “Liam is moving in. We needed to clear space. Your junk was taking up his new closet.” Junk? The only pocket watch my parents left me. The blueprints I had stayed up countless nights to draw. In her eyes, they were just garbage, clutter to be removed to make space for Liam. Blood rushed to my head. I threw the cane down and lunged up the stairs like a madman. The walk-in closet was empty. The racks that held my clothes were now filled with Liam’s designer pieces. My desk, my drafting table, all gone. Replaced by a white grand piano, Liam’s favorite. I rushed to the balcony, looking down. Next to the trash cans in the yard, there were a few black garbage bags piled up. I could vaguely make out the familiar edge of design paper. They were soaked through with rain, a mushy mess. I ran down the stairs, ignoring the searing pain in my leg, and staggered into the yard. I fell to the ground, tearing open the bags, oblivious to the mud. Ruined. Everything was ruined. I hugged the shattered pocket watch, kneeling in the mud, crying a raw, heartbroken sound. “Naomi Caroline! You’re not human!” “Give them back!” Footsteps approached from behind. Naomi stood under the eaves, holding an umbrella, with Liam nestled close to her. She frowned slightly, as if my crying was a nuisance. “Oliver, don’t act like a hysterical mess.” “A few sheets of paper, a broken clock. What’s it worth? I’ll write you a check.” Liam burrowed deeper into her embrace, whispering: “Naomi, poor Oliver… did I do something wrong? Maybe I shouldn’t move in…” “Nonsense. This has nothing to do with you.” Naomi kissed him on the cheek. “He’s the one who doesn’t know his place. A man who won’t learn his lesson should be made to feel the pain.” She raised her gaze, looking at me with icy indifference. “Oliver, for the sake of the past seven years, I’ll give you one last chance.” “Right now, apologize to Liam.” “Say you’ll never cause trouble again, that you’ll be a good, obedient husband.” “And I’ll let you back into this house. You can resume your role.” “Otherwise…” She nudged the mud puddle with her shoe. “Take your trash and get off my property.” The rain intensified. The wound on my leg felt like it had torn open, a drilling pain. But I felt nothing. The cold had vanished. Because my heart was utterly and completely dead. Slowly, I stood up from the mud. Clutching the broken pocket watch to my chest. I wiped the rain and mud from my face, looking at the perfectly matched couple before me. And I smiled. “Naomi Caroline.” “You think I want to be your obedient husband?” “You think I won’t survive without you?” I dragged my injured leg, one step at a time, until I stood directly in front of them. Naomi instinctively recoiled, startled by the sheer hatred in my eyes. “What are you doing?” “Slap!” I put every ounce of my remaining strength into a vicious slap across her face. Naomi’s head snapped to the side. The imprint of my hand immediately surfaced on her cheek. Liam shrieked: “You hit Naomi!” “Shut up! This isn’t your place!” I swung my other hand, delivering an equally hard backhand across Liam’s face. Liam was stunned, then collapsed onto the ground, covering his cheek and wailing. Naomi finally registered the attack. She raised her hand in a furious rage. “Oliver! You’re looking for death!” I lifted my chin, staring hard at the hand hovering over me. “Hit me!” “Naomi Caroline, if you don’t kill me today, I promise you, one day, you and he will kneel before me, and I will repay the pain you gave me, a hundredfold!” Naomi’s hand froze in the air. She looked into my eyes, and for a fleeting second, I saw a flicker of genuine fear. I looked at her with cold contempt, spitting out a mouthful of blood and rainwater. “Naomi Caroline, remember what you said today.” “I don’t know my place. I’m a mess.” “From this moment on, I cut all ties with you. With the Caroline family. We are done.” 5 Rain mixed with mud streamed down my pants. I dragged my throbbing right leg, step by painful step, out of the Caroline villa gates. Behind me, Naomi’s voice was a furious roar. “Lock the gates! Don’t let anyone open them for him!” “He won’t learn what obedience means until he suffers a little!” The massive iron gate slammed shut behind me. I stood by the side of the road, soaked to the bone. But I felt a liberating, unprecedented lightness. I pulled out my phone. The screen was covered in text alerts: notifications of Naomi’s bank card cancellations. A message popped up on WhatsApp. It was from Naomi. [The cards are canceled. When you learn to apologize, I’ll turn them back on. Stay outside for a few days and reflect. Don’t expect me to come looking for you.] Followed immediately by a voice note. Liam’s voice, dripping with feigned concern. “Naomi, don’t do this… Oliver is injured and broke. What if something happens to him?” Naomi’s cold laughter followed. “Relax. His kind has the vitality of a cockroach. Give him three days, and he’ll be crawling back on his knees, begging for forgiveness.” I listened without expression. My finger tapped the screen. Block. Then, I dialed a number I had sworn, three years ago when I retired for Naomi, I would never call again.

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Every time I slept with Carter Sterling, I took care of protection myself. Once it was too intense, broke at the end. He teased: “Joanna, want to have my baby?” My face slightly red, just wanted to explain. He patted my butt, carelessly said: “Don’t be silly, you know I won’t marry a girl who plays loose.” I froze on the spot. Left that city the next day. Reunited five years later. He skillfully fished out a strawberry-flavored packet from my bag, shook it. “Relive the old times?” I politely refused: “No thanks, my husband is waiting for me at home.” … Chapter 1 Carter’s smile faded a few degrees. The increasingly mature man’s aura was stronger than a few years ago, combined with the wind and snow of New York, pressing people breathless. I buried my face in the scarf, nodded slightly to him then turned to leave. Arm was grabbed by someone. His voice low: “When did you get married?” I was forced to stop, had to answer: “Five years ago.” Carter sneered, hooking his lips. “Just broke up with ex-boyfriend then seamlessly found a rebound, your skill of coaxing men hasn’t diminished.” Cold wind cut face. So many years passed, he could still so easily say words that made me feel humiliated. I looked up straight into his eyes, nodded. “Yes, my husband said he likes the way I coax him.” Hurting words not only he can say. Running behind his butt for so long, I also know well how to provoke his anger. Sure enough, muscles on his face twitched rapidly. “Three sentences not leaving your good husband, really touching couple affection.” “Said until I’m curious, exactly what did he do, to make you this social butterfly willing to play house for him?” He said through gritted teeth. Eyes however flashing with seriousness… and confusion? I turned my gaze indifferently, seriously said: “Because he said I am like snow.” “Snow?” Carter puzzled. Snow filling the sky drifted down, equally covering my and his shoulders. Half a day, he chuckled. “Does he know you were with me?” “Eight years, we slept countless times, played all tricks, he still thinks you are pure and flawless like snow?” I didn’t speak. Sawyer didn’t mean this. Back then he saw me crying heart-wrenchingly, while handing me a pack of tissues, sighed. “Joanna, you are quite like the snow in New York.” I didn’t understand, looked at him with red nose. He explained: “Just looks cold, quite shrewd, but actually very silly. As long as getting a trace of warmth, will desperately chase until losing self, until becoming a puddle of water, to nourish dry land.” I laughed through tears. Propitious snow promises a good year. Is a good thing. Pulled away from memories, I reached out hand to Carter, asking for the pink square packet still pinched in his hand. “Mr. Sterling, give it back to me.” “I really going home, my husband is waiting for me to eat.” Carter however flipped wrist, stuffed thing into his coat pocket, smiling ambiguously. “Give to me.” “Little girlfriend shy, never embarrassed to actively prepare these, just right save me buying.” I noncommittal. Withdrew hand step to leave. Carter remembered something, suddenly said: “Guide Joanna, tomorrow don’t forget to pick us up at hotel, if change person halfway, I will complain to your travel agency.” My steps paused slightly, helplessly nodded. Peak travel season, Carter brought girlfriend to travel. I am the tour guide receiving them. Chapter 2 Next day. I went to Carter’s hotel early. Agreed to meet at 8, they came down at 10. Pretty girl held his arm, shyly complaining: “All blame you, why torment me in morning, later can’t ski all blame you.” He lazily glanced at me, didn’t speak. I boarded the business van with wooden face. Arrived at Aspen ski resort. Lila looked at a row of muscular men providing carry-skiing service eyes shining, shaking Carter’s arm said: “I want too, you carry me ski.” I timely opened mouth to promote: “We can provide drone follow-up shooting service, very photogenic.” Little girl more energetic, non-stop acting spoiled. Carter however unmoved, he seriously picking snowboard, casually pointed: “You go find them carry, they are professional.” Lila stunned, moment later pouting: “You not jealous?” Carter finally picked a snowboard. Hearing words, smiling explained: “My vinegar jar not that big.” Added a sentence: “Be good, I haven’t practiced, afraid hurting you.” Little girl mumbled “I don’t believe, you afterwards definitely will find excuse torment me”, gave up most classic carry-skiing project, obediently went to manager consult single shooting service. I expressionlessly finished watching a familiar taming performance. Little girl definitely thinks Carter is saying one thing meaning another, actually very cares he having intimate contact with other guys, so actively avoid suspicion. Only I know, no. Carter didn’t lie. He really doesn’t like being jealous. Sometimes the care he shows, is just twisted possessiveness at work. Same possessiveness as towards a cat, a dog, an ear pick. Stained with a bit of his breath, then not allow others touch. Even if this thing is not important to him. People too. Chapter 3 First time I met Carter, was at a classmate’s birthday party. Tested into bustling metropolis from remote village, I worked hard for half a year, still couldn’t adapt to completely different college campus. Study became unimportant thing. Social, circle, family background and messy abilities are. I have nothing. Walking alone. As an orphan, I already used to this state. But still felt indescribable loneliness when squeezed out of crowd at lively party. I met Carter at this time. He leaned on terrace railing, smoking uninhibitedly. Seeing me, turned hand handed cigarette holder over, smiled unrestrained. “Smoke?” That instant, I heard heart beating thumping sound, so deafening. I was certain I met same kind, started running behind his butt. But that night’s loneliness was just fleeting illusion, Carter actually is undisputed campus prince, always surrounded by countless men and women. I was so inconspicuous among them. But Carter didn’t drive me away. He tacitly allowed me stay by his side, like raising a stray dog no need feeding. I just became his little tail. Once, playing Truth or Dare. I drew punishment to kiss a boy at same table. I dared not refuse, afraid they think I spoil fun, just about to hard scalp kiss down. Carter suddenly exploded, dragged me out. In dim night, he angrily bit my lips, forcefully sucked rubbed. My brain lack oxygen, near suffocation. Chapter 4 I thought that day Carter was jealous. Drawing such conclusion made me secretly happy endless. Jealous means care, does this mean, he also likes me a little. I happily fantasized, waited. Waited full a week, he didn’t contact me once. Day I actively went find him, a senior sister just got off his passenger seat, after ten minutes wet kiss with him, twisted waist back to dorm. I red eyes stepped forward, put all eggs in one basket confessed. Carter put arm on car window, expression playful debauched. “I didn’t bring Condoms, you go buy, want XL, strawberry flavor.” I went. That night, we spent in hotel. Next day, under torn plastic packaging pressed a dress, replacing my shapeless shirt. I looked at collar low to chest, whole body awkward. Carter however touched my waist, dropped light kiss. “Very beautiful, I like.” I looked at self in mirror, seemed indeed more matching him than before. So endured overly bold clothes. That time I thought self was step by step approaching him. Even if unrecognizable also not hesitate. But didn’t expect he said in eight years later: “Loose ones just sleep is fine, marry still need clean pure ones.” My full cavity love and dignity, thoroughly trampled by him under feet.

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I am the male lead’s Late Wife who died early. Fifteenth year after death, the System resurrected me, asked me to save that child on the rooftop. “He is your biological flesh and blood, if you don’t care about him, he really has nothing.” But I have been bad-tempered and spoiled since childhood, only others serving me. So I stepped on high heels walked over, grabbed his collar: “Don’t seek life and death here, cowardly just like your dad.” “Where is he? Don’t know I came back still not come pick me up?” … Chapter 1 The teenager quietly looked at me, expression seemed to have a moment of blankness, but soon recovered, became a piece of ripple-less water surface again. He slightly tilted his head, don’t know thinking what. I impatiently tsked a sound, ordered him: “Call Julian Vance.” He passed a good while then fished out phone, pressed a number. Phone ring rang half minute, finally issued no answer prompt sound. I narrowed eyes: “Julian actually dare not answer phone? Guts big ah!” Caleb seemed already used to it, just about to put phone away. I directly took over, connected called three four more. Phone finally connected, but was a crisp female voice: “Sorry, Mr. Vance is working, please do not disturb.” Finished just hung up, didn’t give me a chance. I just wanted smash phone, suddenly remembered this is not my thing. Raised hand forcefully put down, I grinded teeth hatefully said. “Good ah this guy, wait for me!” Caleb pulled my sleeve, seeing me puzzled look over, his glass-like eyes lightly looked at me, then said two words. “Go back.” Chapter 2 On way back, I and System confirmed again: “This mute bottle really is my son?” I told Caleb taxi sit uncomfortable, he ‘mn’ a sound. I said dislike driver breathing sound, rhythm too messy listen upset, he ‘mn’ a sound. I said clothes on him too ugly, lower my grade, he still ‘mn’ a sound. Later I angry cursed, asked Julian that bastard exactly rolled where when. He finally lifted eyes look me, eyelash slight tremble, voice very light said two words. “Business trip.” I almost angered to death. A stick can’t hit out a fart, speak a word like want his life. How look also not like my son’s character. When he was two years old could noisy Julian whole night sleepless, clearly same temper as me, where like this mute gourd in front. [Host, please slightly understand him. This child suffers from severe psychological illness, language communication barrier is just one manifestation.] I pursed lips, looking at Caleb thin figure, dim eyes, angered heart pain. In fifteen years I absent, Julian this bastard exactly how raised child! Chapter 3 Back home, I first went my room turned a circle. Very good, still same layout as fifteen years ago, my things one didn’t miss. Just in shoe cabinet at door, added a pair of light green lady slippers. I scanned one eye, found is shoes match my style, so didn’t think much. Wait I finished checking a circle then found, Caleb this kid don’t know run where. His room door was locked. I frowned, directly took key opened door. Room pitch black, neither light on, curtain also pulled tight, not see a bit light. Living room light follow door move shine in, only see a lonely figure alone sit before window. I tap tap tap walked over, slap a sound turned on light, crossed arms sat in front of Caleb. Caleb blankly sat there, eyes staring one direction blink not blink, don’t know looking what. Eyes obscure no light. I stared at him, spit out three words. “I hungry.” Caleb seemed finally detect my existence, hear my words, he lowered head took out phone ordered a DoorDash. “I don’t eat DoorDash!” “Julian everyday just let you solve three meals like this?” Caleb put phone down, lowered head, again ignored people. I irritable grabbed a handful hair, turned walk out, couldn’t help complain to System. “Such a broken situation, might as well let me dead.” Behind me, Caleb lifted eyes look over, eyelash slight tremble. Chapter 4 I called System out, asked clear Caleb’s encounter these fifteen years. System told me, after I passed away, Julian became more depressed day by day. He sometimes even couldn’t care about his own work, let alone take care of Caleb well. Julian once drunk, slept two days dark sky dark earth. During this time Caleb didn’t eat a bite of food, hungry cried faint passed, sent to hospital then urgent rescue back. After this matter, Julian threw Caleb to Nanny, himself threw into work. Nanny saw Julian not care this child, attitude to Caleb also very bad, often not cook for him, also occasionally beat scold. Until once Caleb fast hunger strike faint, Julian rushed back then found this matter. That time Caleb already sick very severe, even school couldn’t go. Julian fired Nanny, suffering find no one take care child, assistant Bella beside then volunteer took down this task. “Bella?” I remembered that phone call to Julian was picked up by a woman, looks like is her. [Caleb hates her very much, also because her and your husband broke out very serious conflict.] [Three years ago, Julian for balance work and family prepared marry with Bella. Caleb however not agree, took knife against own wrist force Julian swear won’t marry Bella in door, otherwise he suicide.] I disbelief: “Julian actually want marry others?” [Host rest assured, he finally didn’t marry Bella, two people till now still are boss and subordinate relation.] [But Bella from then on to Caleb quite have micro words, attitude to him also not as before.] I frowned: “She did what?” [Have Nanny precedent, she dare not do too flamboyant. Just everyday tell Caleb, your mom won’t come back again. You want be sensible point, don’t let your dad difficult. Julian need is a wife can stand beside him become his right arm left arm, not a dead white moonlight.] I coldly smiled: “Good ah, good a right arm left arm.” [Host, you next plan how do?] “Julian brain water in, I help him beat out not fine?” I playful smile, “Also that Bella, use this means deal my son, wait get fixed ba.” Chapter 5 But I also didn’t expect, actually so fast confronted Bella. Next morning, I still sleeping in room, caught off guard by a burst crackle crackle sound wake up. I pulled quilt cover face, just want continue sleep. Then heard dispute outside room. A female voice carrying blame meaning said: “Caleb, how can you casually bring stranger home? Still a unknown origin woman?” “I know you always can’t stand I stay beside Mr. Vance, but you also can’t use such way to counterattack him. You put Mr. Vance where, again treat yourself as what?” But no matter what Bella said, Caleb all one attitude. Not allow enter. Bella raised voice point: “Caleb, you so disobedient, really too let people disappointed.” “You could it be hope I tell Mr. Vance, you brought a indecent woman home, still let her sleep in your mom’s room?” Don’t know Caleb said what, Bella tone a turn, become incomparable strict: “Since like this, then I can only let Mr. Vance personal come discipline you.” I played with nails, heard here laughed a sound, opened door. Caleb saw me come out, slightly frown: “Woke, you?” “It’s okay, almost should wake.” Bella sized me up: “You look indeed pretty, no wonder can seduce Caleb like this.” “But, as long as I stay beside Mr. Vance one day, won’t allow you this kind person enter Vance family door. Caleb character simple, not much contact outside world, you exactly see this point manipulate him…” Slap! Crisp sound fall. Bella covered bright red finger mark on face, dare not believe looking me: “You actually dare hit me?” I smiled. “Hit is you ah.” Bella deep breath a mouth, to phone that end said: “Mr. Vance, you all heard ba. Caleb this time thing do really too excessive, indulge this woman lawless in your home…” “Wait a minute.” Julian voice transmit from phone, carrying few points hard detect excitement and uncontrollable joy. “Open video, I want see her face.” Bella slightly stunned, but still follow Julian said open video, lift camera aim me. “Get out.” Voice carrying slight cold intention rang. Caleb blocked in front of me, use hand cover camera, not let Julian see my face. In situation everyone haven’t time react, he pulled me into room, backhand locked room door. Bella outside patting door panel, accuse him: “Caleb, you now how so rebellious? For a woman go against your father, you like this will let him very disappointed…” Caleb tone indifferent, very calm: “Concern you what matter.” Bella outside soft grind hard soak, no matter how say no use, even complain to Julian, Caleb also treat as not heard. She at door spent near one hour, finally can’t stay self left. In room, I stare Caleb, thoughtful: “Why you don’t want let Julian see me?” Caleb behavior really abnormal, not like kid throwing temper performance. This child looks not sociable, but mind delicate sensitive, he do this must have his reason. Caleb slightly lift head, look me. He suddenly reach hand, grabbed my wrist, voice inside actually faintly have a trace tremble: “Don’t, leave.” My heart mouth hot, gently embraced Caleb’s back, one stroke one stroke stroke his head top. Voice gentle: “Don’t fear, I won’t go.” Caleb buried head, in my arms stayed few seconds then retreat few steps, take out phone show me a document. I more look brow frown more tight: “Julian exactly thinking what? He really agreed?” Document inside is Julian recent years sponsored performance most excellent ten students, according description inside, he will in these ten people choose one adopt as stepson. I angry want immediately call scold him a meal: “He brain water in ba more live brain capacity more shrink, stupid thing.” Caleb pulled my hand. “Is Uncle, arranged.” “Don’t, believe him.” I stunned a bit, Caleb’s Uncle is my cousin Lucas, since small grow up with me. Me and his relationship count as not bad, back then I insist want marry Julian, Grandpa not agree, still he helped me persuade. I calm down, look Caleb: “You still know what?” He shook head. “It’s okay, these things I will solve.” I made a call to secretary beside Grandpa, simple state clear situation, let him help me check Lucas, and Julian current movement. “Okay, I immediately send people investigate, three hours later give you result.” “Wait, still one thing.” “…Miss, Old Master know you came back?” “I haven’t told Grandpa, first not rush tell him.” “Right, Grandpa body still good?” “Old Master body tough, just miss you very much, always chanting.” I blink eyes, throat some tight. “I also miss Grandpa very much.”

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Reborn to the day I chose a husband with my sister. I discovered I could hear other people’s inner voices. I heard my sister say: “This time, I must grab the good husband in advance.” Then, she anxiously pulled away the gentle husband I married in my previous life. And left the domestic violence man who beat her every day in the previous life to me. I smiled. Does she think the person I married before had good character? … Chapter 1 I was reborn to the day I chose a husband with my sister. Sitting opposite the dining table were two men of similar age. One is Dominic, the eldest son of the Vance family, cold personality. One is Caleb Vance, the youngest son of the Vance family, but an illegitimate son, gentle personality. [This time, I must grab the good husband in advance.] A female voice transmitted into my ears. It was my sister Scarlett’s voice. I looked at her, but she didn’t speak. Her eyes were just staring straight at Caleb. [Later I must snatch you away.] Her voice transmitted out again. I then discovered, I not only reborn, but also can hear other people’s inner voices. And from these two sentences of my sister, she also reborn. Otherwise she couldn’t say such things. Sure enough, next second she walked over and sat next to Caleb, looking at him shyly. “Hello, I am Scarlett, I like you.” Beside me my dad suddenly spoke: “Serena, since your sister already chose Caleb, then you marry Dominic.” As soon as this was said, my sister’s eyes were full of pride, she said in her heart: [In this life, you go get beaten for me.] Chapter 2 In previous life, my sister married Dominic. Dominic has strong business ability, busy with work all day, and heard he is also cold… Sister looked for him three times five times, but every time was kicked out of room with bruised nose and swollen face. Finally, because she never pregnant, was judged by Grandma Vance as having physical problem, kicked out of Vance family. And Caleb I married, although no power in Vance family, but enough let me eat full wear warm. He accompanied me every day, accompany me shopping eat date, spoiled me to bones. Vance family up and down knew, our relationship very good. And later, Dominic suddenly died of poisoning, Caleb inherited family company. My status in Vance family soared instantly. Sister jealous of me, took advantage when I went out shopping, drove car hit me, perished together with me. Chapter 3 “Okay, Dad, I happen to also quite like Dominic.” I responded with a smile, walked over and sat beside Dominic. Have to say, this man’s aura is indeed strong, sitting there only felt a burst of cold air wrapped me, making people dare not speak. No wonder sister was beaten so miserably by him in previous life. I tried to listen to his inner voice, but he didn’t say a word in his heart. However when Caleb smiled and looked at sister, I heard him say a sentence. [Really a beautiful little baby.] Hearing this, I shivered all over. Subconsciously held Dominic’s hand. Although his personality is cold, but hand is quite warm. Because of my action, he glanced over. I hurriedly let go hand holding him, he then didn’t speak. Although this man looks scary. But I feel following him, is better than following Caleb that poisonous snake. In this life, I must change my original tragic life. I want earn big money, independent, rely on no one. Chapter 4 Me and sister held wedding together. Previous life we also held at this time. That time, Dominic didn’t come to attend wedding on the day, instead Caleb came early in morning. Everyone said he this husband more considerate. Sure enough, this life also same. Caleb wore white suit, hurriedly came up and carried sister away. Passing by me, sister looked at me proudly: “Sister, why Dominic didn’t come pick you ah.” I just smiled: “No need sister worry, you manage yourself well.” She was choked by my words face sank down. [Laugh ba, I see you later be beaten, still can laugh out or not.] She finished saying in heart, and went downstairs with Caleb. But now say these words still too early, who will laugh to end, not certain yet. Dominic didn’t come attend wedding, let me and sister like previous life, suffered many discussions and strange eyes at wedding. Sister happier, can’t wait say to Caleb: “I love you, Caleb.” Then kissed his lips, after kiss, full mouth saliva stare at me. I know, she wants see me embarrassed look. But I not stupid, won’t be like previous life her, angry directly leave scene. That let everyone present and Vance family have handle. I remember that time all said sister not steady, not worthy be Vance family eldest daughter-in-law. So that after marriage, Grandma Vance never gave her good face, let her suffer enough bitterness in Vance family. Chapter 5 I held microphone smiled generously to people below stage. “Today Dominic has a very important business need talk, later toast, will be me replace Dominic together, hope everyone don’t laugh.” This word out, people below stage stopped discussion. Grandma Vance sitting in main seat, cast me a look of new respect. Vance family big business big family, most care face and others opinion. So at this time, as daughter-in-law more can’t panic, must take out hostess style. Sister also saw Grandma Vance’s gaze, eyes flashed a trace anger. [Really f*cking disgusting, later toast tea time, must make you ugly!] Actually I feel can hear inner voice really is a good thing. More a golden finger, do anything convenient much. Arrived toast tea link, I calmly lifted dress walk towards Grandma Vance. Sister always tightly staring me, in heart silent count [One, two, three.] Next second, I directly side body dodge go take tea. And sister fiercely fell on ground, tea water also wet whole body. “Okay right.” Caleb hurriedly go help her. In heart but scold: [Really a idiot!] Everyone looking this way. Grandma Vance full face anger. “Rash, still have a bit Vance family second daughter-in-law look?” “So… sorry Mom, I not intentional.” Sister hurriedly apologize, eye bottom but unwilling. If I were her, this life I won’t make trouble again, just peaceful live days. But she not want let me pass good, I naturally also won’t swallow anger. Chapter 6 Because sister made fool, wedding hastily ended. Grandma Vance from start to end didn’t give her a good face. But when look me, eyes inside are gratified. Also pulled my hand say: “Serena, tonight I let Dominic must come back accompany you, compensate you.” Sure enough, night Dominic really came back. He opened door, just untying tie, face full exhausted. I hurriedly go over take clothes for him. “Dominic, tired today right.” He just looked me one eye, didn’t ignore me. Previous life, I heard servant said, wedding night Dominic didn’t come back. Sister empty guard new room, watched joke by everyone. She go find Grandma Vance complain, instead suffered a scold, said she herself no ability, can’t hold man heart. When Dominic shower, I made bed for him, brewed tea. Then, I myself tidied sofa a bit, prepare alone sleep here. When Dominic came out, saw this scene, eyes flashed a trace surprise. I hurriedly say: “You sleep bed, I sleep sofa.” “Serena, are you playing hard to get?” He slightly narrowed eyes staring me, because wearing bathrobe, chest slightly exposed, still some water drops attach on top. Have to say, his figure indeed good. I hurriedly move away eyes. “No, we two before no feeling, sleep together to you me both awkward.” “If can, I want cooperate with you.” “What meaning?” “After all we just commercial marriage, many this kind couples private are each pass each, surface act a act just fine, I marry you also just want food clothing worry free pass a life, feeling I not extravagant hope.” Hearing my words, he suddenly hooked lip smile: “You very smart.” “Just right I also want like this, I can agree you.” I just a ordinary person, no that big ability and assurance, can hold a man’s heart. After all in Vance family, his attitude to me, depends on Grandma Vance attitude to me. I don’t want be like sister previous life, mix until targeted by everyone. That to me no any benefit. And previous life he also domestic violence sister. I also don’t want go provoke him, then also be beaten. So I choose live in peace with him just fine. This life, I only want take money open own company, then self rely self fly yellow arrive! Chapter 7 I let Dominic post our ten fingers tight lock photo in Moments. And caption: [Happy Wedding.] Reason is let everyone feel we two feeling no problem. Besides this, I also found his Moments very clean, except this Moments, no longer posted Moments. He such person daily life must very boring. When sleep, he really slept big bed, let me alone sleep sofa. Really not understand pity fragrance cherish jade, fine, I should satisfy. Next morning early, I was woken by Dominic. He early morning want while listen music, while do push-ups exercise body. Heard sex cold men, are all thin dogs. But his that eight pack abs, strong calf meat, look just full of power. Better than Caleb figure too many times! “Don’t look, I not interested in you.” He suddenly voice out, climb up from ground. “Wear good clothes, follow me go eat breakfast.” Subconscious is telling me, like this everyone will feel our feeling good. Actually I feel he quite good talk ah, why previous life would beat sister? After tidying myself, I went out with Dominic. Just go out, I saw sister and Caleb ten fingers tight lock walk over. Sister wearing tube top dress, collarbone and shoulder place all hickeys, also deliberate lean close give me look. She full face all proud, from head to end sized me up a round. [Wrapped so tight, must be beaten, deliberate cover wound.] She voice out in heart, then proudly smiled. “Sister, how new wedding night pass ah?” I today wear is a set decent long sleeve dress. Sister seem forgot, Grandma Vance most dislike low vulgar wear match appear in Vance family. And makeup also can’t heavy makeup. But I don’t want remind her. I just smile. “Sister, in Vance family according seniority, you should call me Sister-in-law, not Sister.” Her face instantly some ugly, unconvinced bite teeth: “People Dominic didn’t say so call, you base on what require me?” Then she look towards Dominic. “Dominic, you stand out say a word.” I can feel beside Dominic, whole body aura bit by bit cold up. Caleb in heart scold: [F*cking idiot, see father night not fix you!] Then pulled sister hand, signal her don’t speak again. But she still unaware seriousness of matter.

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Jasper and I were the definition of a forced pair: all scorching chemistry and sheer, mutual hatred. Once the crisis that brought us together was over, I told him I wanted out. He wouldn’t say yes, but he wouldn’t say no, either. Instead, he went off on some ridiculous tangent, asking if I preferred cats or dogs. “Dogs,” I said, frowning. “Why?” He dropped his head and gave a pathetic little yelp. “Woof.” I glared. “Don’t do that.” He cleared his throat, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. “You misunderstand.” “I just wanted to make sure you remembered,” he drawled, his smile completely unapologetic. “You’ve already kissed a dog.” My jaw dropped. 01 The day Christopher Morgan and I broke up, I cried a ridiculous, snotty, heaving mess of tears. It was devastating. I genuinely loved that man—the one who was always so gentle, so thoughtful, so frustratingly handsome. With a double dose of heartbreak weighing me down, I spent the entire afternoon crying all over Jasper. He tried everything. He argued, he negotiated, he exhausted his entire supply of soothing words. Finally, seeing that I knew every logical reason to stop crying but just couldn’t, he told me the ancient joke about the old woman and her two sons. “So, what’s your takeaway?” he asked, once he was done. “It means you have to look at the positive side of life, right?” I sniffled. “Christopher and I breaking up isn’t just a sad thing, it’s also a chance to—” He cut me off with a massive, exaggerated X sign. “Wrong! It means that if an old woman can manage to pop out two sons, the world is absolutely overflowing with men!” I was deep in my misery, but Jasper always knew the exact line to make me snort-laugh through my tears. Jasper and I have been on each other’s nerves since kindergarten. We’d been in each other’s orbit, fighting and arguing, for over two decades, but I’d always had a serious question mark over his sexuality. I’d at least dated Christopher. Jasper, on the other hand, hadn’t even held a girl’s hand since preschool. Objectively, he was gorgeous, charming, and a master conversationalist who could turn on the flattery like a faucet. He regularly left girls completely dazed. But no matter what type of girl—or how beautiful—sent him a love letter or a gift, he always turned them down flat. He never gave a reason. Over time, the rumor spread: Jasper Reid preferred men. Girls who knew we were close would sneak up and ask me about it. I’d shake my head in genuine confusion. “I honestly don’t know, but he’s never actually dated a guy, either.” He was still single when we graduated college and started our careers. A sudden, brilliant idea—a desperate, stupid, childish idea—flashed through my mind. I stared at Jasper with wide-eyed intensity. After a long pause, I leaned in. “Jasper, let’s pretend to be a couple.” He frowned. “Are you finally going to use me as a rebound?” “No!” I threw myself forward, grabbing his sleeve tightly. “Just hear me out…” Jasper was initially confused. But as I kept talking, his expression slowly transformed. His eyes narrowed. His lips curled up. I could almost visualize a big, bushy fox tail unfurling behind him, swishing happily from left to right, right to left. When I finished, he kept his eyes narrowed. “Sounds great,” he said. And just like that, I foolishly coerced Jasper into playing my fake boyfriend. 02 After seeing Jasper out, I lay spread-eagled on my bed. The reason I’d given him was that my parents, who were constantly abroad, would definitely start pressuring me to find someone after my breakup with Christopher. Fake-dating Jasper would get them off my back. But I’d lied. The real reason was pure, unadulterated spite. I wanted to make Christopher jealous. I wanted him to see that even after he let me go, I could immediately find someone better. It was a tantrum. I couldn’t understand why our relationship felt so emotionally sterile. I wanted to introduce all my friends to Christopher, but he said a relationship was between two people, and we didn’t need to “bind our social lives.” I wanted him to check in with me throughout the day, but he told me I was being “too sensitive” and that “adults need their own rhythm.” And just the other day, I was having a meltdown after a horrible day at work, and all I wanted was for him to tell me I was right. Instead, he coolly analyzed the situation, pointing out who was at fault and telling me the workplace required “rationality.” Rationality my ass. I’d go talk to an AI if all I wanted was logic. What did I need him for? In a burst of anger, I broke up with him. He looked genuinely heartbroken, I’ll admit—a flicker of that deep, familiar melancholy in his eyes. But in the end, he agreed, saying he respected my choice. I was stunned. Why was it so hard for him to just fight for me? The problem was, I truly loved him. His quiet strength, his formidable intellect, and his underlying warmth were incredibly appealing to me. Completely lost, I cried to Jasper for what felt like hours. Hearing his ridiculously crude joke about having plenty of men in the world, a spark had ignited. If Christopher truly loved me, could using Jasper be the push I needed? But what if I was making a terrible mistake? What if I was poisoning an already struggling relationship? Was it fair to Jasper? He didn’t like me anyway, so a little cooperation couldn’t hurt, could it? Besides, the words were already out. If I backed out now, I’d look insane. I was lying on my bed, clutching my head in misery, when Jasper texted. Jasper: I’ve been gone three hours. Not one text? Is this how you ‘date’? Me: ? We agreed it was fake. Jasper: … You’re supposed to fawn over me. Me: Fuck off. I threw my phone down in a fresh wave of frustration. 03 To my surprise, I ran into Christopher much sooner than expected. Jasper, who had taken over his family’s business early, invited me to a gala a few days into our “relationship.” He sent a driver to pick me up. I was dressed to the nines… and immediately started watching the drama with Jasper. “Seriously? That Mr. Thompson looks so respectable, and you’re telling me he has four illegitimate kids?” “No way, Ms. Chen is that beautiful, and she’s dating her driver?” I was sweeping the room, asking Jasper about every recognizable face, when I spotted a tall, distinguished figure in the distance. I gasped and jabbed Jasper in the ribs. “Oh my god, is that Christopher Morgan?” Jasper followed my gaze. Christopher was wearing a perfectly tailored gray suit. His hair was meticulously styled. He was holding a glass of scotch and exchanging pleasantries with an older CEO. I sighed internally: He’s still the same. Elegant, formidable. A sleek, black Persian. “This is Noah Caldwell’s event,” Jasper said smoothly. “He’s looking to reshuffle his legal team. Christopher’s a high-profile lawyer, so it’s not surprising he’s here.” I listened, my mind racing as I hatched my secret plan. Jasper noticed my excitement. “Why are you so worked up? We live in the same city, our circles intersect. Why the surprise? You still have feelings for him?” I kept silent. Jasper adjusted his tie in the reflection of a nearby floor-to-ceiling window. Then, he casually took my hand. “Come on. Time to show off.” I tried to pull away. But with so many eyes in the room, I couldn’t make a scene. “No, no, I don’t want to,” I hissed. Christopher noticed us. He knew Jasper and I were childhood friends. He excused himself from the CEO and walked over. Jasper gave him a mocking, overly-sincere smile. “Long time no see, Mr. Morgan. You’re looking as pristine as ever.” Christopher gave him a polite nod. Then he turned to me. “Kenna, it’s good to see you.” I managed a strained smile, looking down. “Y-you too.” Christopher’s eyes landed on my hand in Jasper’s. I snatched my hand back as if burned. Jasper smoothly stepped between us, separating me from Christopher. “Mr. Morgan, I heard Mr. Zhang is looking to partner with you. We’re going over there to discuss it—I can make the introduction for you. You owe me one, okay?” Jasper pointed toward the billiards table. Christopher smiled. “That would be appreciated.” I don’t play, so I stood by and watched them shoot pool, interjecting occasionally. But Jasper was completely insufferable. Every time I tried to talk to Christopher, he jumped in to interrupt. When it was Christopher’s turn, I pulled Jasper aside. “What is your problem?” Jasper’s brow was furrowed enough to kill a mosquito. “I want to punch him. That sanctimonious fake!” “He’s a great guy! Don’t ruin this. If you mess with him, you’re dead to me.” He argued, self-righteous: “You two broke up! Why can’t I rough him up a little? He made you cry so much!” I yanked his arm. “No matter what, you will not do anything ridiculous. Do you hear me?” Christopher was looking over, waiting for Jasper. Under my fierce glare, Jasper sighed, grumbled “Fine,” and reluctantly agreed. Then, he suddenly swooped in and kissed me, quick and possessive, right on the corner of my mouth. Before I could react, he turned and strolled off to Christopher, looking utterly triumphant. I was fuming. For the rest of the evening, I desperately tried to find a moment to explain things to Christopher, but Jasper kept me on a short leash. Finally, I clutched my stomach. “Ow, my stomach hurts.” Jasper looked concerned. “What’s wrong? Do you need to leave?” “No, I think I just got my cramps. I’m going to the ladies’ room.” Jasper nodded knowingly and released my arm. We’d been through school together. When I was younger, I was embarrassed about my period and would just sit there, pale and silent. Jasper was always the one who noticed, raised his hand, and claimed he had a stomachache so he could run out and buy me supplies. As I brushed past Christopher, I secretly poked his side and walked straight toward the restroom. He was waiting by the door a few minutes later. 04 He offered a polite smile. “Kenna, you’re still as mischievous as ever.” “Christopher, Jasper and I aren’t actually—” I took a step forward, intending to grab his sleeve, but then I remembered my “role” and let my hand drop. Christopher’s voice was gentle. “Kenna, this isn’t good for you, for me, or for Jasper.” “I know you’re feeling resentful, but I’ve come to realize that our personalities simply aren’t compatible.” “You want me to regret things, to change everything and come back to you. I wish I could be the man you need, but I can’t. You are a wonderful woman—beautiful, vibrant, confident, and fun. Being with you is easy.” “But I cannot be the lover you envision. If you truly care for Jasper, I wish you both the best, and I’m genuinely happy for you. If you don’t care for him, then you need to figure out what you truly want and find the right person.” My eyes dropped. I couldn’t look at him. My entire petty scheme felt transparent and embarrassing in the face of this mature, rational man. Before I could speak, Jasper’s loud shout echoed down the hallway. “Kendall! What are you two doing here?! Stomach all better, is it?” I winced, a feeling of deep mortification washing over me. Jasper swaggered over, muttering a stream of passive-aggressive remarks. “Jasper has no ill will toward you,” I quickly explained. Christopher’s smile only broadened. “I know.” Jasper was getting closer. “What are you two chatting about? Speak up, I can’t hear you!” I leaned toward Christopher. “My birthday is in a few days. Will… will you still wish me happy birthday?” “Of course,” he said warmly. I smiled, nodded, and quickly ran toward Jasper. “Why are you yelling? There are so many people here! It’s humiliating to be with you!” I grabbed him and pulled him back toward the billiards table, terrified he’d start a brawl with Christopher. “Why am I yelling? I want to see what that hypocrite is going to do to you next!” He was scowling fiercely. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a fresh, sealed sanitary pad. “Are you on? Was there one in the bathroom?” “Where did you get that?” A flush of awkward redness spread across his face. “Never mind that. If you’re on, go use it.” I giggled. “Nope. False alarm. I just ate too much cold food.” On the ride home, Christopher’s words kept echoing in my mind. I glanced over at Jasper. He’d had a few drinks. He was leaning against the car door, the window cracked open. The wind rustled his hair, sweeping a few strands across his perfect nose. He caught my eye, his own eyes slightly red at the corners from the alcohol. He looked vulnerable, but he was still trying to look menacing. He bared his teeth. “What? Thinking of yelling at me again? Let me guess, you’re mad I kissed you? I just wanted to show that fake that plenty of people want you!” The things I wanted to say got stuck in my throat. I sank into my seat and picked at my fingernails. He leaned closer, playful. “Seriously, are you mad?” I shook my head. “I just… I don’t know what I want anymore.” “I do,” he said decisively. “What you need right now is a stable relationship and a successful career.” “Not that phony, fake gentleman Christopher Morgan!” 05 Nothing happened after that night. I kept meaning to tell Jasper we should stop the charade. But then I saw how excited he was about it, and I couldn’t bring myself to say the words. On my birthday, I was slumped over my desk at work, feeling miserable. My mom had texted: Kenna, your dad and I are swamped with work, so we can’t be there. We ordered a massive cake for you, sweetie. Don’t forget to pick it up. She followed up with a massive transfer. I flipped my phone face down in frustration. My parents had barely been there for my birthday growing up. This year, though, I really wished they would come home. Christopher and I were done, which made me sad. Playing house with Jasper felt wrong and confusing. A knot of tangled, messy emotions tightened in my chest, making it hard to breathe. And lately, work had been one crisis after another. All I wanted was to have a carefree birthday with my parents. Why was it so difficult? The sunset cast long shadows across the huge office. My colleagues were slowly trickling out. Someone asked why I wasn’t leaving. I told her I was tired and needed a minute to rest. “Kenna, don’t let it get to you,” she said softly. “Briana messed up the numbers and passed the buck to you. You’ll get yelled at, but who hasn’t dealt with that? Just learn your lesson for next time.” I turned my head to watch her go, the sunlight blinding me. I was new to the corporate world. I made mistakes and was easily manipulated. The world felt predatory. I just wanted to go home and have my mom hug me. A loud ring broke the silence. I grabbed my phone. It was Jasper. His bright, clear voice came through the speaker. “Happy birthday, Kenna! You haven’t left work yet, have you?” “How did you know?” I muttered listlessly. “I drove past your place and the lights were off. Get down here! I’m outside your building. I’m taking you to a great dinner.” I didn’t answer right away. My parents’ apartment was inside a gated community. He clearly went out of his way to check on me. “Do you know how hard it is to get a table at that fine dinning place? I pushed off a massive meeting just to spend your birthday with you.” He rattled on, urging me to hurry. I stood up, shoving my things into my tote bag. Stepping out of the elevator, I saw Jasper waiting in the lobby. Long legs propped against his car, one hand in his pocket. He had a lollipop sticking out of his mouth, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration. Always trying to look cool. I walked toward him. The moment he saw me, his face lit up. But when he saw my downcast expression, he bent down, turned his head, and looked straight into my eyes. “What’s wrong, Birthday Girl?” “You’re unhappy?” “Yes! Unhappy!” I’d been waiting all day. Waiting for my parents to surprise me by flying back from France. Waiting for Christopher to keep his promise. Nothing. And then I got humiliated by a colleague. In the car, Jasper drove and spoke casually. “Christopher didn’t send you a birthday message, did he? That’s what’s got you down.” “How did you know?” “Ugh, classic fake-gentleman move. Tell you what, I’ll go buy him some rat poison to verify his species.” I turned to him, confused. “If he takes the rat poison and dies,” Jasper explained with mock gravity, “he’s a rat. If he takes it and doesn’t die… he’s a demon rat who needs a stake through the heart.”

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The first time my boyfriend, Kevin, took me back to his family’s small, rural hometown, I stopped at a boutique in the nearby town to pick up several boxes of beautifully packaged pastries as a hostess gift. The moment I stepped through the door, offering the box with a nervous smile, the warmth from the neighbors gathered inside evaporated. An older woman, who had just greeted me with a hug, suddenly backed away, her face draining of color. She spat a disgusted sound onto the floor. “Pah! That girl looks sweet, but she’s clearly mixed up in something foul!” I froze, humiliated. Kevin, seeing the scene, snatched the elegant box from my hand. His face instantly turned to stone. “It’s over! Get out of my house right now!” He slammed the box onto the slate floor. The delicate petit fours inside shattered, turning to dust. Kevin’s father burst from the kitchen, grabbing a shovel leaning by the hearth, ready to drive me out. “Get out! Bringing a thing like that to my door, are you trying to wish death on me?” I stared at the ruins on the floor, my mind utterly blank. 1 “How could they just humiliate me like that? It was just a box of fancy matcha shortbread!” Clutching my phone, I sobbed uncontrollably to Maya, my best friend, recounting the cruelty I’d suffered at Kevin’s family home. “Are you sure they were just… regular pastries?” Maya’s voice was strained with suspicion. Tears streamed down my face, splattering onto my hand. “Of course! I even waited in line at that trendy, artisanal bakery downtown. Each box cost me a fortune!” “And when I first arrived, everyone in the village was so friendly, but the second Kevin’s dad smashed the box, they all looked at me like I was a murderer.” “I’ve been thrown out. I’m standing alone at the edge of town, and I honestly can’t understand it. Are small towns in the South this obsessed with bizarre superstitions?” Hearing my voice crack with despair, Maya quickly tried to soothe me. “Okay, honey, calm down. First, send me a picture of the pastry box and the receipt.” “Don’t worry. If this is just some twisted, localized game they’re playing to bully you, I’ll drive up there with my brother and we’ll trash their porch for you.” That promise of solidarity provided a momentary anchor. My hands trembling, I opened the ordering app, found the receipt, and sent the product page and the order details to Maya. Thirty seconds later, the phone rang. I took a shaky breath, ready to lean into her for comfort, but the voice that answered was tight, barely recognizable, and edged with a terrifying tremor. “That order—is this really what you bought?” “Is that what you intended to bring to his parents?” That familiar, ominous shift in tone—Kevin had asked me the same thing right before he smashed the box. My heart plummeted. I instinctively tried to explain, but Maya’s voice suddenly became sharp and piercing, like she was talking to a complete stranger. “Joanna, I honestly regret every year I’ve known you!” “You psycho. How could you do something so evil, so morally depraved? Those are living, breathing people!” “Don’t ever contact me again. I feel sick.” She hung up, giving me no chance to defend myself. When I tried to call back, I only heard the sterile “The user you are trying to reach is unavailable.” My texts were met with the unforgiving red exclamation point. I stood on the curb of the unfamiliar street, the icy wind biting at me. I felt as if I’d been struck by lightning. Someone please tell me what is happening! 2 In a state of shock, I took a taxi back to my city apartment late that night. I pulled out my keys, but before I could turn the lock, the door was yanked open from the inside. It was my parents. Their faces were ashen and grim. Two of my packed suitcases sat at their feet. My mother, whose eyes were always filled with loving patience, looked at me now with nothing but cold loathing. Before I could step across the threshold, she shoved the heavy luggage out the door, the case nearly slamming onto my feet. “Dad? Mom? What are you doing?” I panicked, scrambling to grab my mother’s arm, my tears starting again. “It’s bad enough Kevin’s family bullied me. Why are you doing this, too?” “I’m your only daughter. You’re supposed to stand up for me right now!” “Please, even if you’re kicking me out, at least tell me what I did wrong!” My father stood behind her, a cigarette burning between his fingers, refusing to even look at me. I was air. My mother violently wrenched her arm free, the force sending me stumbling backward into the hallway wall. The dull ache in my back was nothing compared to the terror seizing my chest. My mother, who never raised her voice, pointed a trembling finger directly at my nose. “Don’t call me Mom! Our family doesn’t breed evil like you!” “Relatives were calling to scream at me, and I defended you—until I saw that order screenshot…” “Joanna, do you have a heart at all? That was a gift for elders! How dare you give them that?” Leaning against the cold plaster, I cried out in despair. “It was just a few pastries! I won’t buy that brand again! Is that it?” “Just because I didn’t understand some ancient custom, did I deserve a death sentence? Did Kevin brainwash you all?” At the mention of the “pastry,” my father snapped. He lunged forward, raising his hand to strike me, but stopped in mid-air, his eyes filled with agonizing disappointment. “You created this mess, and you have the nerve to blame others?” “Bringing that kind of cursed item to their home… you want the entire world to point fingers at us?!” “Get out! Now! If you have any decency left, disappear and never show your face again!” The door slammed shut with a final, brutal sound. The cold, hard click of the deadbolt severed the last connection I had to my home. I sank to the floor in the hallway, hugging my knees. The whole world was spinning, collapsing. If I was truly in the wrong, why wouldn’t a single person explain to me what those boxes of pastries actually represented? To be abandoned like this, over an unnamed crime—I refused to accept it! 3 I slept fitfully in a cheap hotel, my eyes swollen from crying. The next morning, I went straight to the nearest police precinct. On the way, I decided to test the waters. I stopped a kind-looking old woman on the street and showed her the photo of the pastry box on my phone. At first, the woman smiled warmly. “Oh, that packaging is quite elegant. A lovely gift.” My spirits lifted. I quickly asked, “And what if I were to give this to my boyfriend’s parents?” The smile vanished instantly. It was replaced by an expression of pure, unadulterated terror and disgust, like she’d just seen a plague rat. “Pah! Such depravity!” She spat a glob of phlegm near my feet and swung the shopping bag in her hand, hitting my shoulder. “Young people today! Doing such despicable, evil things! Why don’t you just get hit by a bus!” Bystanders noticed the commotion and gathered around. They didn’t know the cause at first, but when they heard the old woman reference the reason, their expressions darkened. They looked at me as if they wanted to tear me limb from limb. Terrified, I turned and ran, nearly twisting my ankle. Even so, I was determined to know the truth. At the police station, I poured out the entire absurd story to the officers, feeling like I was finally grabbing hold of a lifeline. Tears running down my face, I placed my phone on the desk. “Officers, I don’t understand. Everyone is acting insane.” “I just bought a few pastries. How did I become a public enemy?” The officer dealing with me, a young woman, was joined by a veteran cop. Both looked grave. The young woman handed me a tissue. “Ma’am, based on your description, if this isn’t some massive cultural misunderstanding, it is highly unusual.” “Rest assured, we are law enforcement. We deal with evidence and law, not emotions. Let us see the photo of this item.” Hearing that, the knot in my stomach loosened a bit. Here, at least, was a semblance of logic. My fingers shaking, I tapped open the product page and slid the phone across the desk. However, the instant the two police officers saw the screen, that same chilling, familiar, and utterly suffocating atmosphere descended again. 4 The young officer’s previously gentle gaze sharpened into cold steel. She sprang to her feet, her hand instinctively resting on the equipment belt at her waist, as if I were an extremely dangerous terrorist. The veteran officer’s face was dark, staring at me with contempt and deep suspicion. “Ma’am, are you seriously trying to play games with us?” He slammed his hand on the desk, the sound loud enough to make my ears ring. “You purchase an item like that and then come here claiming innocence?” “We now have serious concerns that you may be attempting to endanger public safety or may be involved in a fraud scheme. We require your immediate cooperation!” I was too stunned by the abrupt shift to speak. My back pressed against the chair, my voice shaking uncontrollably. “Officers, it’s matcha shortbread! I checked the ingredients multiple times—it’s just green tea and sugar!” “What law have I broken?” The veteran officer sneered. “Matcha shortbread? I think you’ve got mush in your head!” Ignoring my pleas, he ordered the young officer to search me and demanded my ID and phone. They began running my information through the system. In that moment, I felt stripped bare, standing under a spotlight, every last shred of my dignity crushed. Half an hour later, they confirmed I had no criminal record, but their attitude did not thaw. The young officer tossed my ID back onto the desk, her voice like ice. “Ms. Bishop, while there is no evidence at this time that you have caused substantive harm, your actions are a severe violation of public decency and order.” “I am warning you: if you dare to parade this item around or attempt to harass the victims’ family, this will be more than just a verbal warning.” I gripped the edge of the table, utterly distraught. “Can you just tell me why? Why is everyone acting like this?” “Even if you sentence me, you have to tell me the crime! I’m going crazy! Am I having a psychotic break, or has the whole world lost its mind?” The two officers exchanged weary, impatient glances. The veteran sighed, pointing toward the door with an expression of dismissive disgust. “You absolutely need to see a doctor.” “Go to Metropolitan General and see a psychiatrist. Maybe a professional can help you clear your head and realize the heinous thing you’ve done.” “Now get out. You’re wasting our time.” I was ejected from the precinct and sank onto the curb, sobbing uncontrollably. Had I truly gone mad? In the memory of buying the pastry, had I actually bought poison or a bomb? To give myself a definitive answer, to avoid being destroyed by an unknown charge, I wiped my eyes, hailed a cab, and headed straight for the mental health ward. In the consultation room, facing an older, professional-looking doctor with graying hair, I fought hard to control my emotions. I recounted the events of the last two days as clearly and logically as possible: the neighbor’s spitting, my parents’ expulsion, the police warning. The doctor listened intently, occasionally making notes on his pad. When I finished, he adjusted his glasses and asked in a calm, even tone: “And the source of all this conflict, the box of pastry—may I see it?” I was a coiled spring of fear. I hesitated, clutching my phone. The doctor seemed to sense my terror and gave me a gentle smile. “I’m a doctor, Joanna. I’ve seen countless bizarre things.” “In this room, the patient is always the priority. You have nothing to fear from me.” His professionalism and compassion gave me the final push. I closed my eyes and handed him the phone, bracing myself to be dismissed like garbage. Time stretched on. Every second felt like an eternity. After a full minute, the doctor returned the phone. His expression hadn’t changed. He remained utterly calm, compassionate, and gentle. There was no anger, no disgust, not even a flicker of surprise. “Ms. Bishop, this box of pastry… you genuinely bought it as a gift for your boyfriend’s parents, correct?” he asked softly. I held my breath, nodding cautiously, worried this was another trap. “Yes. I bought it for them.” The expected explosion of rage never came. Instead, the doctor heavily circled something on his pad, looked up, and held a gaze I couldn’t quite decipher. “It seems my initial hypothesis was correct.” “Ms. Bishop, your cognitive function is unimpaired. Your mental state is completely sound.” Hearing the word “sound,” my tightly wound nerves snapped. Tears erupted from my eyes. I collapsed onto my knees, desperately clutching the doctor’s white coat, like he was the last piece of floating wreckage. “Doctor, if I’m not crazy, then what is it?” “Please tell me why everyone is trying to destroy me over this one box! You know the answer, don’t you? Please!” The doctor sighed, helped me up, and pointed to the phone on the desk, his voice tinged with a weary disappointment. “The answer, Joanna, is not complicated.” 5 “The key to all your problems lies within the pastry itself.” “Because what you bought… is precisely this box of pastry.” That utterly useless statement nearly made me faint. If he hadn’t been so calm moments before, I would have thrown the stethoscope at him. I gritted my teeth, fighting the urge to curse him. My voice shook with frustration. “Doctor, I paid three hundred dollars for this appointment, not to hear circular logic.” “I know I bought the pastry. The question is, why is it universally condemned? If this is some common knowledge taboo, why have I, a person who’s lived twenty-seven years, never heard of it?” The doctor was unperturbed by my outburst. He shook his head and sat back down. “No, Ms. Bishop, you’re still thinking in terms of taboo.” “Some things aren’t taboos; they are imposed narratives.” “In the current social climate, you don’t understand because you are standing in an information silo.” “Go home. Shift your focus from other people’s reactions to the source of this specific pastry. Pay attention to how it came to you.” “Perhaps you’ll realize that many things, from the very beginning, were simply a well-laid trap.” As I was ushered out of the consultation room, the doctor’s vague words were the only thing echoing in my head. Focus on the source? The source was a link Kevin sent me. He told me it was the most respectful gift in his hometown, and that I had to get this specific item, with this exact packaging, from that exact shop. On the ride home, I went over those details again and again. My phone vibrated—a message in the company chat. My supervisor tagged me: “Joanna, there’s an emergency meeting tomorrow morning. No matter what personal issues you have, you must be present.” Staring at the screen, I took a deep breath. Whatever the truth was, life had to continue. I wouldn’t be defeated. At least the doctor had given me a new perspective: this could be a trap. The next day, I arrived at the office with dark circles under my eyes. The atmosphere was palpably wrong. The usually noisy break room fell silent the moment I stepped past it. Several colleagues I considered friends immediately lowered their heads, pretending to work, avoiding eye contact. I walked to my desk. Before I could sit down, my supervisor, Beth, walked over with a file. She slapped the document onto my desk, her eyes filled with unconcealed contempt. Her voice was loud enough for the entire office to hear. “Joanna, the company is conducting a background review. Due to serious concerns regarding your personal character, we believe you are unsuitable for your current position.” “This is your termination letter. Sign it.” I shot to my feet. “Beth, I’ve worked diligently for three years and never made a mistake! Why are you firing me?” “Even if it’s a ‘character issue,’ you need proof! What exactly did I do?” Beth scoffed, pulling out her phone and shoving a picture in my face. “Proof? This is the proof! Sending an item like this as a gift to an elderly couple!” “The entire industry chat is buzzing about it. Our company cannot afford this kind of scandal!” “You have the nerve to ask? Kevin’s family was being kind! If it were me, I’d have had you arrested!” It was the screenshot of my pastry order. My blood turned to ice. Beyond Kevin and me, absolutely no one knew what the final order details looked like. Even Maya, who had since blocked me, only got the product link, not the full receipt with my name and address! The source of the leak was undeniable. The surrounding colleagues began whispering, their voices carrying. “I can’t believe it. She seemed so quiet, but she’s truly wicked on the inside.” “I know. I heard that cake is specifically used for hexes. I’d be afraid of crossing her.” “I’d be worried about bad karma just working with her. Get her out of here now.” Listening to the vicious remarks, a strange calm washed over me. A hex? Specifically for a curse? So that was the narrative they had all received. I didn’t argue further. I picked up a pen and signed the termination letter cleanly. If someone had gone to such lengths to destroy me, extending the siege to my workplace, this was far beyond a simple misunderstanding. This was an organized, full-spectrum ambush.

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When we were most in love, Ethan Cole told his boys that if his bride wasn’t me, they shouldn’t attend his wedding. Later, Ethan got married, and the bride wasn’t me. True to their word, his friends were nowhere to be found. After the ceremony, Ethan confronted them. But the one who always seemed to dislike me punched him in the face, eyes red with rage. “Ethan, people who betray true love deserve to die.” “So why did Sarah West have to die instead?” 1 On the day I died, Ethan Cole announced his wedding date with Lily Parker. Except for Ethan’s three best friends, everyone else sent their blessings. The ballroom was packed, romantic red roses paving the way from the entrance to the stage. It was even more extravagant than our engagement party. Lily held Ethan’s arm, looking a bit aggrieved. “Ethan, where are your friends?” “Do they not like me? They didn’t even come on such an important day.” Ethan glanced at his watch and dialed their numbers one by one. None connected, but plenty of spam calls came through. Frowning, Ethan blocked the spam numbers. Lily’s face fell. Ever since she appeared by Ethan’s side, his three best friends had been lukewarm towards her. She thought they would show up for an occasion like this. After all, they had been brothers for over a decade. I followed behind Ethan, scrutinizing Lily. How stupid was I not to notice the signs from the moment she appeared? Lily bit her lip, clutching her phone behind her back. The screen showed her chat with me. [Sarah, so what if it’s been ten years?] [My wedding with Ethan is in seven days. Come if you dare.] I lowered my eyes, my soul passing through her body. I really wanted to reply: I dare to come, but do you dare to see me? But I was dead. 2 The banquet ended. Surprisingly, Ethan didn’t take Lily home but drove her to her apartment. In the car, Lily grabbed Ethan’s collar, offering her lips. “Lily, I’ve been drinking.” “Be good, you don’t like the smell of alcohol.” Ethan pushed her away, showing no intention of going up with her. Lily clenched her fists, took a deep breath, and got out of the car. Before the door closed, her eyes reddened. “Ethan, the wedding in seven days will proceed as planned, right?” Men are suckers for vulnerability. In the end, Ethan followed Lily up to her apartment. I sat on the roof of the car watching their ambiguous tug-of-war. The summer night breeze couldn’t warm my cold soul. Weakness, coquetry. These were things Ethan used to despise. My gaze fell on their clasped hands. I was forced to follow Ethan into the elevator, all the way to Lily’s apartment. Ethan tossed his suit jacket onto the sofa. Lily couldn’t wait to hug him from behind. “Ethan, I’m scared.” Scared? I looked at Lily in surprise. Since I met her, I had never heard the word “scared” from her mouth. Ethan turned around, his unbuttoned shirt revealing his chest. Lily stood on tiptoes and kissed him. “Scared of what?” Ethan rubbed the top of her head, letting her hands roam. “Scared Sarah will change her mind.” “Scared you’ll suddenly leave me.” “Scared I’m not good enough for you.” Ethan chuckled, full of doting. “No, Sarah won’t change her mind.” 3 Ethan’s certainty dazed me. Back when we were most in love, Ethan was just as certain. He said, “No, I, Ethan Cole, will never fail Sarah West in this lifetime.” That day, I thought I would be happy forever. From middle school desk mates to high school sweethearts, from college romance to starting a business together—sixteen years. We got engaged when the company was on track. If nothing had happened, we would have gotten married this year. But in the sixteenth year of knowing each other, the tenth year of loving each other, Ethan changed. When did he start changing? Probably when he stopped texting me to ask how I was, when he couldn’t stop smiling at his phone sitting across from me, when he started texting Lily good morning and good night every day. Sincerity changes in an instant. So when we broke up, he took all the blame, protecting Lily well. I granted his wish and didn’t reveal the evidence of Lily’s provocations. Actually, when Lily first appeared, I didn’t think much of it. The daughter of a business partner, wanting to gain experience in our company. To close that deal, Ethan asked for my opinion. He suggested putting Lily in the secretary’s office, away from core business. I believed him. But Ethan made Lily his personal secretary for a whole year. And he tried every way to convince me to expand the market abroad, where I stayed for another year. When I returned, Lily was known as the future Mrs. Cole. I became Ethan’s ex-girlfriend. Before I could confront Ethan, he came to me. He pushed a resignation letter towards me, along with a share transfer agreement. “Sarah, we once said if we met someone who moved our hearts more, we would break up peacefully.” “You remember, right?” 4 When Ethan and Lily tumbled into the bedroom, I hid in the living room. Thank god. I could keep some distance from Ethan and didn’t have to witness those disgusting scenes. Even though Lily had already sent me their photos and videos. Ethan’s phone was on the living room table, buzzing non-stop. I leaned closer. The caller ID was mine. My mind exploded. I stood frozen in shock. My fingers trembled imperceptibly, and the scenes before my death played back frame by frame. Fear, helplessness. I remembered, I died very undignified. After agreeing to Ethan’s breakup conditions, I left the company. Lily found me, wanting to talk. What was there to talk about? I looked at her, but she sneered. “Aren’t you curious why I chose Ethan?” “Why?” I asked, following her lead. Lily took me to a coffee shop near the company. “I just wanted to see how deep Ethan’s love for you was. Turns out, not that deep.” I didn’t want to get entangled with her. But as soon as I walked out, I was dragged into a van by several men. The car bumped along, from the city to the suburbs, from day to night. Until the mountain wind howled, and twigs scratched my exposed legs and arms. “Did Lily send you?” I asked, forcing calmness. The four men in front of me looked haggard, eyes sunken, emitting a foul stench. They didn’t speak but rushed up, pressing me to the ground in the dark to vent, from night till dawn. Because I struggled fiercely, my head was smashed open. Blood flowed all over the ground. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing behind Ethan, watching him hold Lily’s hand, announcing the wedding date. Calculating the days, his wedding date was the seventh day after my death. 5 At 1 AM, Ethan walked out with a towel around his waist. He picked up the phone on the sofa, pupils shrinking when he saw the missed calls. I curled up on the sofa, trembling, my mind full of images before my death. Lily’s voice came from the bedroom: “Ethan, what’s wrong?” Ethan suppressed his emotions, deleted the call log, and walked towards Lily with the phone, pulling her into his arms. The smooth way he deleted the log reminded me of how he acted that year when I rarely came back to see him. When I first went abroad, Ethan would video call me all the time. He would complain about how busy the company was, acting coquettish, saying he wished I were there. I would handle documents while responding to him. “You don’t like me acting cute, why are you doing it yourself?” “Whining like a baby.” I thought I was just teasing, but his face turned pale instantly. Later I learned. When two people are together for a long time, they unconsciously start talking like each other. Early the next morning, Ethan came out of Lily’s apartment. Before leaving, he kissed Lily gently on the cheek. “Sleep a bit more, you don’t need to go to the company today.” I found it a bit funny. In the past, Ethan valued time the most. Rain or shine, he would drag me out of bed, afraid of delaying the day’s work. Even for dates, he wouldn’t wait a minute for me. Sixteen years, I got used to the habits he made me get used to. It turns out his habits could be broken, and the exception was only for a specific person.

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