Category: English

Before I died, my parents cursed me every day. My mother blamed me for stalling her career. “If I hadn’t accidentally gotten pregnant with you, I would have been Chief of Surgery years ago.” My father blamed me for his business failures. “Ever since the day you were born, every investment I touch turns to ash. You are a jinx.” They only loved my older sister, Sarah. They said she was just like them—studious, quiet, and refined. I, on the other hand, was like an unevolved primate in their eyes—always running wild, getting into fights, and embarrassing the family. “What a waste of space,” they would often sigh. “If we had just aborted her, this family would be perfect.” Eventually, they got their wish. I died. 1 It was 3:00 AM. I had exhausted every ounce of my strength, but I finally secured the encryption key needed to take down the cartel. But the price was my cover. My identity as a bartender at the club was blown. Fortunately, I managed to transmit the data just in time. Before my SWAT team could breach the building, the cartel enforcers inflicted every torture imaginable on me. They sawed off my limbs. They flayed my skin strip by strip, keeping me just on the edge of consciousness so I would feel everything. I ground my teeth together to keep from screaming until they shattered in my mouth. Finally, the sirens wailed. When the team secured the room, my Captain—a stoic giant of a man—rushed in. He scooped up what was left of my torso and wept openly. “Chloe, I’m sorry. We were too late.” “Don’t sleep, Chloe. Hold on. The medics can fix this,” he begged, his voice breaking. I forced my bloodied eyes open. “Cap…” I whispered. “Donate my body. Anything that’s left… give it to someone who needs it.” “And… don’t tell my parents I died.” With those words, I managed a smile. I closed my eyes, satisfied. I was rushed to the downtown Trauma Center. But the moment the gurney hit the hospital doors, my heart stopped for good. Following my dying wish, the hospital immediately prepped for organ harvesting. My corneas were removed to be transplanted into a patient who had been on the waiting list for months. Without them, she would be permanently blind. The patient was my sister, Sarah. The lead surgeon was my mother. She stood over my body with her team, bowing her head in a moment of silence for the donor. Then, she coolly pulled back the sterile sheet to inspect the donor. Even though she was a veteran doctor who had seen countless traumas, she gasped when she saw what was left of me. “She was only twenty-four,” she whispered behind her mask. “So young.” “This poor girl went through hell. If her parents saw her like this, it would kill them.” I floated above the operating table, watching her. I wanted to ask, “Mom, if you knew this was me—your own daughter—would you still feel sorry?” But I was dead. I couldn’t ask. 2 The surgery was a success. My parents and Sarah were beaming with joy. “I heard the donor was about Sarah’s age,” Dad said. “What a noble kid.” Mom nodded. “Yes. Brought in by the police. Likely a line-of-duty death.” “A tragedy. But her parents must be so proud.” “I wish we knew who she was,” they sighed. “We’d visit her grave to say thank you.” Then, Mom’s face darkened. “That Chloe… she has no heart. Today was Sarah’s big surgery, and she didn’t even bother to show up.” “She’s probably too busy with that shady job of hers. She didn’t even call.” Dad sneered. “Ideally, we’d never hear from that embarrassment again.” Sarah scoffed from her bed. “Who needs her? I hope she stays away forever.” Just then, their phones buzzed. “Dr. Miller? The board has voted. You are the new Chief of Surgery.” It was the Hospital Administrator. It was the promotion Mom had chased for years. Then Dad’s phone rang. “Sir, the city contract just came through. The company is saved.” They hugged Sarah, ecstatic. “Sarah, you are our lucky charm! The moment your surgery succeeded, everything turned around!” The small VIP room was filled with laughter and celebration. Meanwhile, in a quiet room at the precinct, there was only the sound of stifled sobbing. My Captain and my squad were holding a secret memorial for me. Because the cartel still had active members, they couldn’t risk exposing my family by making my death public. The Captain held my urn, his shoulders shaking. “My girl… my brave girl…” He had recruited me. He was more of a father to me than my biological one. The Police Chief patted his shoulder. “She saved this city. We will make sure her family is taken care of.” 3 “Has anyone heard from Chloe? She hasn’t called in days. She isn’t answering.” That evening, Grandma asked the moment my parents walked in the door. She sat in her wheelchair, looking worried. My parents’ smiles vanished instantly. “Why do you always bring up that loser?” Dad snapped. Grandma went silent and turned her wheelchair toward her room. I followed her spirit, trying to push the chair, but my hands passed through it. “Meow!” A large black shadow pounced at me. It was Midnight, the stray cat I had rescued. I tried to catch him, but he fell through my arms and hit the floor. He got up, confused, and rubbed against my invisible legs, purring. Grandma watched him with tears in her eyes. “Do you miss Chloe too, Midnight?” “That silly girl… tomorrow is her birthday. I bet she forgot.” Grandma pulled a pair of red socks and a red envelope from her drawer. She was superstitious about birthdays—she believed wearing red brought protection. I had forgotten. Tomorrow was my twenty-fourth birthday. Only Grandma remembered. In the living room, my parents were chatting. “Sarah can finally see. We need to throw a huge party once she recovers.” Mom smiled, then frowned. “Is tomorrow a special date? I feel like I’m forgetting something.” Dad shrugged. “Nothing special. You’re just tired.” “Go to sleep. Sarah is healed, you’re the Chief, the business is booming. Our life is finally perfect.” Suddenly, a crash came from Grandma’s room. Midnight was going crazy, tearing the red socks to shreds. “Midnight! Stop! Those are for Chloe!” Grandma screamed. My parents rushed in. 4 Seeing the mess, Dad exploded. “That damn cat! I told you to get rid of it! It’s nothing but trouble, just like Chloe!” He kicked at Midnight, who hissed and scrambled under the bed. Mom looked at the ruined socks with disdain. “Mom, I buy you expensive clothes. Why are you hoarding these cheap red socks? Do you want people to think I abuse you?” Grandma clutched the tattered socks. “These weren’t for me. They were for Chloe’s birthday.” “Red brings good luck. She needs protection.” My parents froze. “Her birthday? When is that?” Grandma’s grief turned to rage. “You gave birth to her! How do you not know her birthday? What kind of parents are you?” Dad stiffened. “My business tanked the day she was born. Why should I celebrate that?” Mom added, “If I hadn’t been pregnant with her, I would have been Chief ten years ago.” “That was your choice!” Grandma yelled. “Did Chloe ask to be born?” Dad looked at Grandma’s wheelchair coldly. “Are you going senile, Mom? Why do you defend that jinx? If it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t be paralyzed.” Grandma broke down sobbing. “It wasn’t Chloe who paralyzed me! It was your precious Sarah!” My parents were stunned. Years ago, on a freezing winter night, seven-year-old Sarah threw a tantrum because she wanted ice cream. My parents weren’t home. Sarah threatened to run away if she didn’t get it. Grandma went out to buy it to keep her safe. On the way back, she was mugged and beaten by a junkie. She never walked again.

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My parents were junkies. Until I was ten, I didn’t have a birth certificate, never stepped foot in a kindergarten, and existed like a ghost in the system. When Jax pressed the muzzle of his gun against my forehead, I stared blankly and offered him the moldy piece of bread in my hand. “This is all I have left. Do you want it?” He slapped the bread away, agitated, and hoisted me up by my collar. “Where are your parents? They owe me money.” I shook my head, lost, and instinctively tugged at the hem of his jacket. “I’m hungry. Can you let me eat something before you beat me?” Jax froze. The tension left his shoulders. He threatened that if my parents didn’t pay up, he’d chop me up and sell me for parts. But then he turned around, walked into the kitchen, and fried me two eggs. I was ten. He was twenty-three. Because of those eggs, I clung to Jax for the rest of my life. 1 Jax had paced outside the door for thirty minutes before kicking it in, gun drawn. The house reeked—a cocktail of rotting food, an overflowing toilet, and damp mildew. He tried to take a deep breath to acclimate, but the physiological urge to gag made him curse loudly. I was chained in the basement. Through the cracks in the rotting floorboards above, I watched him ransack the place. His final loot—a single dime found under a cushion—broke him. He stomped his foot in rage, slipping on a patch of unknown sludge. Worse, the floorboard snapped. He fell through the ceiling, landing right in front of me in the basement. When our eyes met, Jax screamed. After realizing the creature with matted hair was a human child, he kicked me. “Don’t play ghost and scare people, dammit!” I curled into a ball, my whimper silent and controlled. Experience taught me that silence meant fewer beatings. “Where are your parents? Tell them to get their asses out here. Hiding won’t clear their debt.” I shook my head silently. I honestly didn’t know. I couldn’t remember the last time they came home. The bread I had been saving was growing a forest of black mold. “Speak!” Jax shoved the gun barrel against my brow. “Only this left. Do you want it?” I held up the green-black lump of bread. Jax stared at it, stunned, then slapped it out of my hand. “I want money! I want my cash! What the hell is that?” He grabbed me by the collar, lifting my feet off the ground. I finally saw his face clearly. Clean-shaven, pale. He smelled good, like expensive soap. There was a small mole on his Adam’s apple. “I’m hungry. Can I eat before you kill me? I promise I won’t cry. I’ll be good.” My stomach cramped with hunger, my hand gripping his shirt. A look of sheer disbelief flashed through Jax’s eyes. He frowned. “Are you crazy?” He dropped me, turned, and stomped up the rickety stairs. I assumed he found nothing to eat. Because I heard him swearing as he slammed the front door and left. 2 I don’t know if I fainted or just fell asleep. I woke up to Jax squatting in front of me, holding a plate of golden fried eggs. He poked my cheek. “You dead? I didn’t even hit you that hard.” The smell hit my nose, and I turned feral. I snatched the plate and shoveled the eggs into my mouth with dirty hands. “Slow down, kid. You’re making me think I’m Gordon Ramsay.” Actually, the eggs were way too salty. But to me, they were a Michelin-star meal. That was when Jax noticed the chain on my ankle. My world was a radius of three meters. I ate, slept, and used a bucket within that circle. “Are you actually their kid? Or did they kidnap you?” Jax looked horrified. I didn’t quite understand “kidnap,” but I knew I belonged to them. When I nodded, Jax went into a rage, smashing old furniture against the basement walls. “Those scumbags! Treating their own kid like a dog!” Terrified, I knelt on the floor. He looked confused. “What are you doing? Those eggs cost like fifty cents. You don’t need to worship me. It’s weird.” I was confused too. “I’m full. Isn’t it time for the beating?” Jax looked like he wanted to scream. He ground his teeth, ran upstairs, and came back with a rusty ax. I shrank back. My life was always hanging by a thread. Maybe dying was okay. At least I ate eggs. Jax swung the ax high. I closed my eyes, praying it would be quick. Clang! The ax sparked against the chain. Gritting his teeth, he swung again and again until the metal link snapped. I looked up in shock. The man patted my head awkwardly. His eyes held a gentleness I had never seen before. He practically dragged me upstairs. After so long in the dark, the sunlight burned my eyes. 3 Jax fried me another plate of eggs. After I wolfed them down, he looked proud. “If I hadn’t been too broke for culinary school, I’d be a head chef by now.” I nodded furiously. Yes. Chef. I didn’t know what a culinary school was, but agreeing with him felt safe. Jax left again. He came back with scissors, shampoo, and clothes. He dragged me to the yard, drew water from the well, and dumped a bucket of freezing water over me. I shivered violently but didn’t make a sound. My rags disintegrated under his hands. When he saw my body, Jax kicked the bucket over in frustration. “Sh*t. You’re a girl.” I nodded timidly. Jax sighed, took off his jacket, wrapped me in it, and carried me inside. I sat on a chair and watched him boil water on the stove. It was the first hot bath I could remember. Actually, the first bath, period. He scrubbed me with a rough towel, muttering that the pigs in the pen were cleaner than me. When I was clean and dressed in the oversized boy’s clothes he bought, Jax sighed with satisfaction. He hacked at my matted hair with the scissors. He said I looked like a poodle that lost a fight with a lawnmower. Then, he made me work. He said he couldn’t stand the filth. I tried to sweep, but I was so weak I tripped over the broom. He picked me up, set me on a high cabinet, and told me to stay put. Jax dry-heaved while he cleaned. He filled twenty trash bags. He sprayed so much bleach my eyes watered. Finally, he lit a cigarette and collapsed on the couch. He closed his eyes and asked again, “Do you really not know where your parents are?” I shook my head, feeling guilty and ashamed. 4 My parents returned three days later. I heard them screaming at each other from down the block. Jax instantly racked the slide of his pistol. He shoved me into the bedroom and stuffed tissue paper in my ears. He told me he was going to play a game with my parents and that I had to stay quiet. I nodded obediently. For three days, I had food, water, and at night, he let me watch videos on his phone. Even though I didn’t understand the dancing ladies on TikTok, my gray world had color for the first time. He was my god. I trusted him unconditionally. Jax went out and fired a warning shot. I heard my father scream, the sound of a body hitting the floor, and a groan. Jax roared, “Where’s my money? You stole the boss’s product and thought you could hide? You got a death wish?” My mother screamed, her voice shrill and manic. “We smoked it all! It’s gone! Please!” Jax: “Money or product. Now.” The voices dropped. Then, the front door slammed open. I heard a child crying. Loudly. Curious, I cracked the door open. It was a beautiful boy, dressed in expensive clothes. “He’s our golden ticket,” my mother said, tying the boy to a table leg. “His dad owns a mining company. He’s loaded.” Jax looked horrified. He kicked my mother away. “I just want my debt paid! I didn’t sign up for a kidnapping felony!” In the chaos, I saw my father stumble up and smash a chair over the back of Jax’s head. I covered my mouth, too scared to scream a warning. 5 My parents were high. They were erratic. Jax was unconscious, bleeding heavily from his head. I squatted next to him, whispering his name. The rich boy was crying and cursing. “You trash! Junkies! Whores! Do you know who my father is?” My mother slapped him. He screamed louder. I waved at him to shut up. My parents had killed people in this house before. But he wouldn’t stop. Jax groaned and opened his eyes, reaching for his gun. My mother pointed her own pistol at the boy’s head. Jax’s eyes went wide. He lunged. “Crazy b*tch! Don’t drag me to hell with you!” The gun went off. The bullet missed the boy’s head but shattered his thigh. My parents were completely gone, lost in drug-induced psychosis. Jax, bleeding and dizzy, wiped his fingerprints off everything he touched. He grabbed his gun and ran out the door. I sat there, numb. I wanted to cry, but my eyes were dry. But Jax came back. He grabbed my mother’s phone and dialed 911. Disguising his voice, he said, “Drug overdose and kidnapping in progress. Send units.” He grabbed a quilt, wrapped me up, and carried me to the stone bench in the yard. He squatted in front of me. “When the cops come, beg them to take you. Orphanage, foster care, anywhere. Just get out of this house.” He spoke fast, desperate. I nodded mechanically. He rubbed my messy hair, his eyes full of pain. “I hope you have a safe life, kid.” “Promise me. You never saw me. Okay?” He held out his pinky. I hooked it with mine. “Will I see you again?” “Maybe. I don’t know.” Jax pulled his hand away. “Just stay alive.” He ran into the night without looking back. I sat there until the sirens wailed, my feet numb from the cold. The last three days felt like a dream I wasn’t supposed to have.

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I hadn’t paid my half of the household expenses to Pierce Ellington in two weeks, and for the first time, he was the one who called me. “What, no rush to settle up this time?” his voice was sharp with a familiar edge of contempt. “I covered your brother Logan’s medication for the month, so don’t play the martyr. Don’t go crying later that I didn’t help.” The line went dead just as I finished booking a one-way train ticket. Glancing around the house we’d shared for five years, I knew what I could take. It was only the battered, old suitcase my brother Logan Shore had bought me when he sent me off to college. No one—least of all Pierce—knew the true cost of my life here. Every coat, every piece of jewelry, every nice thing I’d worn for five years? They were the leftover branded gifts he’d accumulated while shopping for Blair Kinsley, the great love of his life. Even now, he was meticulously logging every dollar he believed I owed him, while simultaneously buying Blair a new apartment without a second thought. He didn’t know that my brother, unable to secure the final, crucial payment for his medicine, had been forced to take on an exhausting, long-haul trucking run. Two months ago, his truck and his life tumbled into a ravine on a treacherous winter road. I was pushing the suitcase toward the front door when Pierce opened it. “Nothing to say on the phone, and now this sudden drama?” He looked me up and down, a sneer already forming on his face. “Amelia. Are you being overdramatic? The medication was just delayed a few days. Is this really necessary?” I didn’t turn around, focusing instead on checking the contents of my worn wallet for the hundredth time. He strode over, stepping across the threshold, and slammed his hand down on the pull handle of the suitcase. “You’re going to give me endless hell because of that brother of yours—the one you share no blood with?” The venom started to drip from his voice. “He’s an outsider, Amy. And frankly, for some poor kid from the rural mountains to ‘sponsor’ your education… I bet his ‘help’ wasn’t exactly pure.” The crack of my palm against his cheek stole the air. “Keep your voice clean, Pierce!” My whole arm was shaking with rage. “What Logan and I shared was absolutely clean.” He touched his cheek, his eyes instantly darkening, the corner of his mouth twisting into a cynical smirk. “Oh, did I hit a nerve?” he mocked. “I suppose the two of you were peas in a pod… naturally a bond that runs deep.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a vicious whisper. “But don’t forget, I gave you this life. Every luxury, every comfort you have, was mygenerous offering.” A sharp, needle-like pain pierced my chest. Five years ago, Logan had urged me to pursue my own career, telling me a girl could only build a good life if she stood on her own two feet. But I had thrown myself into Pierce’s shallow affections, desperate to exchange my future for what I thought was stability. I’d looked into Logan’s disappointed eyes and sworn we had love. Now, this life—one where every penny was dissected and accounted for—was, in his mind, a donation. I couldn’t help but laugh, a short, bitter sound. “You’re right. Thank you, Pierce. Thank you for this calculated, utterly barren existence.” His brow furrowed, ready to argue, but I was suddenly tired of listening to him. The whole situation felt pointless. “I know you’ve always wanted Blair. You bought her an apartment, you stocked her closets, and even the freebies you passed on to me, you felt I should be grateful for.” His eyes narrowed slightly, surprised by my directness. I’d ripped off the last shred of our cover. “Since you don’t think I’m good enough for you, and you can’t let her go…” I pulled the suitcase away, my fingers tracing the worn texture of the handle. “I’ll get out of your way. We are done, Pierce. We are even.” I turned, opening the door without hesitation. His furious roar erupted behind me. “Amelia! Try to walk out that door!” I ignored him, walking toward the station, then peeling off into a cheap, mold-scented roadside motel instead. In the dark, a miserable sliver of streetlight leaked through the thin curtain. Logan was right. A life built on your own work is the only one you can truly feel safe in. But this peace came too late, and the cost was too high. The moment my consciousness started to drift, a violent banging jolted me awake. “Open the door! Amelia! I know you’re in there! Get back here!” It was Pierce, his impatience and aggression radiating through the flimsy wood. “Amelia! Come out yourself, or I’ll call someone to kick in this door!” Through the peephole, his face was grim and frightening. “Pierce, we’re done. Please leave.” My words only seemed to fuel his rage. “I decide when we’re done! You think hiding in a dump like this settles anything? Get back home!” Suddenly, Blair’s distinctive ringtone cut through the noise, and the pounding stopped. When he hung up, I heard his receding footsteps, still thick with frustration. “You two stay here and watch her! Don’t let her run off!” I slid down the wall, wrapping my arms around myself. It was absurd. One call, and he would drop everything to rush to another woman. Yet, his wife of five years couldn’t beg him to cover a single wire transfer for life-saving medicine. Sometime later, the footsteps returned. My motel door was kicked inward with a crash. Blair Kinsley, dripping expensive perfume that instantly overpowered the room’s musty scent, stood in the doorway. “Well, well. Look who it is. The little mountain bride he picked up.” She paused, dragging out the words with a condescending giggle. “I heard Pierce only married her to spite his parents. Didn’t expect her to be so… utterly forgettable.” Blair’s words were like tiny pins, pricking a heart already numb from pain. But strangely, I didn’t feel the sting. “Blair, I’m not fighting you.” I gestured to the suitcase. “Just get him to let me leave. From this moment on, you can have whatever you want.” Blair arched an eyebrow but shook her head. “You got the deal of a lifetime marrying him. You took advantage of it for five years. And now you’re playing the high-and-mighty victim? Is this your idea of a power play? Trying to make him chase you?” Her certainty was stunning. I looked down at my faded jeans, a dizzying sense of absurdity rising in my throat. For five years, I had lived off her leftovers and scraps. And she still believed I was a schemer who’d gotten a ‘deal.’ I patted the old suitcase next to me, a painful, self-mocking gesture. “Blair, this battered suitcase contains the sum total of my five years as your man’s wife. What use do I have for a ‘bargain’ like that?” She barely glanced at the luggage, walking toward me. “I don’t care how you spent the last five years, but Pierce’s heart is mine. It was then, it is now, and it will be forever.” After Blair finally disappeared, I grabbed the suitcase and quickly slipped out. But I was immediately caught by Pierce the moment I stepped outside. “What did you say to Blair?” he demanded, his voice thick with accusation. “Nothing.” He snorted, clearly unconvinced. “Amelia, I’m warning you to stay away from her! You two are not in the same league! Stop with your little mind games around her!” In his eyes, my very silence and departure were calculated acts of deception. I felt a familiar stab of pain and countered with a dry sarcasm. “Since you trust Blair so much, why are you asking me?” He choked on the retort, his face twisting in frustration. But he quickly controlled his anger, softening his voice just slightly. “Just go apologize to Blair. If you do that, I’ll forget about tonight. And I’ll cover the rest of your brother’s meds.” He even ground his teeth and reluctantly added, “Those things I said about you and Logan… I know you’re not that person. You’ve been with me for five years. But you were so disrespectful tonight, talking back like that…” Listening to him dismiss his monstrous slanders as mere “words spoken in anger,” a chilling despair washed over me. I looked at the lonely shadow pooling at my feet and pulled the suitcase around him. My rejection shattered his pretense. “Amelia, I gave you an out! Don’t be foolish!” he yelled. “Fine. Whenever you come to your senses, that’s when Logan’s medical care gets covered!” He thought dangling the money would bring me crawling back to the gilded cage. But the memory of Logan’s last laughing phone call—about a “good haul” he’d secured—made my chest seize up. I couldn’t breathe. Once his car screeched away in an angry rush, I sank onto the sidewalk, gasping for air. The tears and hyperventilation left me dizzy, bordering on unconsciousness. I finally calmed down, only to feel a violent, dull impact on the back of my neck. Then, blackness. When I regained consciousness, my hands and feet were tightly bound with rope. Blair, equally bound, saw I was awake and immediately unleashed her fury. “This is your fault, Amelia! You curse! You walking disaster! If I hadn’t come to find you, I wouldn’t be in this mess! Why don’t you just die!” The ringleader, a rough-looking man, kicked her to silence her. “Shut up! One more word and I throw you in the harbor!” She gasped, swallowing her tears and insults, but her eyes, like knives, continued to bore into me. The leader took my phone and found Pierce’s number, handing it to me. “Listen up. Call your man. Tell him to get the money ready. No police. Or else…” He let his cold gaze drift toward the dark water, the threat unspoken. Blair instantly shrieked. “I’ll call him! Let me call him!” The leader scoffed, dialed her number, and put the call on speaker. Pierce answered instantly, his voice frantic. “Blair? Where are you? Why weren’t you answering?” Blair wailed loudly into the phone. “I’ve been kidnapped! Pierce, please! You have to come save me!” Pierce’s breath hitched. “Blair, don’t panic! Tell me exactly where you are! Did they hurt you?” The leader took the phone. “Ellington. You have three hours. Call the cops, and you’ll be collecting what’s left of this woman.” He then took my phone, trying the same tactic. Once. Twice. Unanswered. Blair actually let out a small, spiteful chuckle. “Don’t bother. Pierce won’t answer yours. He never cared about her.” The leader, annoyed, shoved the phone in my face. “What’s the deal, huh? Your man not paying up?” He looked murderous, but I was strangely calm. “We’re separated. He won’t pay a dime for me.” He kept trying, unconvinced, but Pierce still wouldn’t answer. Losing patience, the leader brutally kicked me in the ribs. “Useless! Thought we could score a little extra! What a waste of time!” I muffled a cry, collapsing onto my side. Blair didn’t look scared; instead, a flash of vindictive relief crossed her face. The sea air grew colder; the sky darkened further. During the agonizing wait, Blair’s haughty curses devolved into pitiful weeping. I ignored my fear, scanning the surroundings desperately. “My suitcase. Did you see my suitcase?” It was the last thing Logan had given me. I couldn’t lose it. Blair lashed out. “Amelia, are you crazy or just stupid? We’re about to die, and you’re worried about that piece of junk?” I paid her no mind, forcing my eyes to search every inch of the abandoned dock. Just as despair began to set in, the roar of powerful engines cut through the silence. Blair’s ashen face erupted with hysterical joy. “It’s Pierce! He’s here! He came for me!” Two SUVs screeched to a halt, and Pierce jumped out, running toward us. The leader raised his gun, pointing it squarely at Blair. “Stop right there!” Pierce immediately froze, hands raised. “The money is here! Thirty million, every penny! Let them go!” The leader motioned for a subordinate to check the bags, keeping his gun raised. “We have the cash, Mr. Ellington. But there are two people here.” He shifted his aim between Blair and me. “Thirty million only buys one. Choose.” Pierce finally saw me, his eyes widening in shock and anger. “This is blackmail! I only agreed to pay for one hostage! I had no idea there was a second!” The leader, displeased with his tone, chambered a round. The click echoed on the dock. “Mr. Ellington, don’t blame us. We called you dozens of times, and you never picked up.” He nudged the gun toward the ocean. Blair, terrified, screamed at Pierce to make a decision. But Pierce couldn’t speak, the hesitation stretching out for a lifetime. That brief pause infuriated Blair. “Pierce! What are you waiting for? Were you lying to me? Do you actually love her?” Flustered, Pierce’s face went white. He looked at me, urging me with his eyes. “Amelia, you…” He stammered, searching for the right words. “You let me get Blair out safely, and I swear I’ll come back for you!” A gunshot from the leader, aimed harmlessly at the floorboards, cut him off. “Mr. Ellington, one choice. You take one, and I deal with the other. Immediately.” The color drained from Pierce’s face completely. Blair took advantage of his shock, seizing his sleeve and sobbing hysterically. Watching his tortured, agonizing struggle, I spoke. “Take her, Pierce.” He froze, then his face crumpled in relief and a surge of false gratitude. “Amelia, I’ve failed you. I swear I’ll get the best doctors, the best medicine for your brother! I promise!” Those words—the same ones that had been the economic leash and emotional chokehold of my twisted five-year marriage—now sounded like the most profound, sickening irony. I looked at his anxious, deceitful face and suddenly felt a profound sense of release. “No need,” I said, looking him directly in the eye. “Two months ago, when you bought Blair her apartment and forgot to send the wire, my brother died.” Pierce’s face registered total, absolute incomprehension. “What are you saying…?”

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“Congratulations, Cass. You’ve hit the bottom tier.” Brenda, my manager, slid the annual review form across the conference table, her smile saccharine and slow. I looked down. Composite Score: 50 points. Ranking: Last in Department (8th). Notes: Recommended for reassignment or termination. I glanced back at the sales leaderboard displayed on the wall. My name was at the very top. Revenue: $8.7 Million. I smiled. “Perfectly noted.” Brenda froze. She hadn’t expected the calm, the quiet certainty in my voice. She’d expected tears, or panic, or maybe a desperate, rookie plea. I stood up, folded the assessment neatly, and tucked it into my laptop bag. “I’ll be there for the Executive Review Session, then. On Friday.” 1. Brenda’s expression shifted, a flicker of something sharp in her eyes. “Cassidy, what is that supposed to mean?” I slung my bag over my shoulder, my tone light, almost dismissive. “It means exactly what it says. You’ve ranked me last, so last I am.” “See you at the hearing.” I turned to leave. Behind me, Brenda’s voice pursued me, low and warning. “Cass, don’t think for a minute that strong numbers trump everything. This company assesses comprehensive performance, not just the column totals.” I didn’t look back. “I know.” As I stepped out of the conference room, I heard the hushed, urgent voices inside. “Brenda, do you think she’ll cause a scene?” “A scene? By a junior who’s been here three years? What’s she going to do, upend the whole system?” I let a small, private smile curl the corner of my mouth. Three years. It had been exactly three years. When I started at Sterling & Co., there were eight of us in the department. Brenda was the Director, and she had her two trusted inner-circle lieutenants—Jenna and Dustin. The other five of us were the workhorses. I was the best horse they had. In my first year, I closed $3.8 million in new business. It was the biggest deal the department landed that year. But at the Annual Summit, Brenda stood on the stage and announced— “This deal was a victory for the whole team, the result of a unified effort.” “Jenna was crucial to the initial client follow-up, Dustin handled all the logistical support, and I, of course, orchestrated the overall strategy.” “Cassidy was instrumental in the execution phase. Great job.” The room erupted in applause. Jenna beamed, her eyes sparkling. Dustin gave me a thumbs-up. Only I knew the truth: I’d pitched, negotiated, and closed that deal entirely on my own. Jenna? She barely remembered the client’s name. Dustin? He never once set foot on the client’s campus. But what could I say? I was a rookie, fresh out of college. Who would believe me over the Department Director? That year, Jenna got an $80,000 bonus. Dustin got $60,000. I got $20,000. Brenda patted my shoulder and said, “Cass, you’re young. Your time will come.” I smiled and nodded. “Thank you, Brenda.” In the second year, my revenue hit $5.2 million. Still the top performer. Yet my overall score dropped to fourth place. Brenda cited “issues with professional demeanor.” What issues? She called me “too isolated.” “Cass, look at Jenna and Dustin. See how well they network? You just put your head down and work, all day, every day. You haven’t learned how to be part of the team.” I said, “Brenda, I’m number one in revenue.” She waved a dismissive hand. “Revenue isn’t everything. The company assesses your composite value. Strong performance means you can do the job. It doesn’t mean you’re a fit for this team.” That year, Jenna got a $100,000 bonus. Dustin got $80,000. I got $30,000. I didn’t argue. But from that day on, I started doing one thing religiously. I started recording. Every meeting, every private conversation, every time Brenda stopped by my cubicle for a “coaching session,” my phone was recording. It wasn’t because I wanted to complain. It was because I knew, instinctively, that without evidence, some stories can never be proven. The third year, this year. My revenue is $8.7 million. Not only first in the department, but third in the entire company. And today, Brenda gave me a 50. Bottom tier. Recommended for termination. By the time I left the office building, it was already dark. My phone rang. It was my mother. “Honey, it’s your end-of-year review, right? How did it go?” I stood under a streetlamp, taking a long, cold breath. “It went great, Mom.” “That’s wonderful. Just focus on your work and don’t make trouble for anyone.” “I won’t.” I hung up and stood there for a moment, watching the headlights sweep across the pavement. Three years. I’d endured for three years. It wasn’t weakness. It was patience. I was waiting for the right opportunity. Now, the opportunity was here. Back at my apartment, I logged onto my computer. On the desktop was a folder labeled Operation Record. It contained three years of recordings—87 files in total. It held all my email correspondence, chat logs, and performance reports. I opened a document. The title was: Formal Complaint Regarding Equity and Ethical Standards in the Sales Group Two Performance Review Process. I’d been working on that letter for six months. Dozens of revisions. Every data point was sourced. Every conclusion was backed by evidence. I looked at the date. Friday was the Executive Review Session. At that hearing, every employee ranked in the bottom tier had to stand before the company’s senior leadership and explain why they were “unfit.” If they failed, they were terminated on the spot. Brenda thought I was going to show up and embarrass myself. She was wrong. On Friday, it would be her turn to be embarrassed. I lit a cigarette. Yes, I’d picked up smoking. These three years had taught me so much. Smoking was the least of it. The most important lesson was this: Always secure the evidence. 2. The next morning, I went into work as normal. The atmosphere in the office was immediately off-kilter. Jenna eyed me with a sideways glance. “Well, look who decided to show up, Cass.” I set down my bag. “Why wouldn’t I?” “I heard you were put on the low-performer list. I figured you’d be packing your desk.” I smiled slightly. “The low-performer list isn’t a termination notice. Why would I leave?” Jenna scoffed. “True. But after the hearing on Friday, you won’t have a choice.” I ignored her. I opened my laptop and began sorting through my active client pipeline. At ten, Brenda called me into her office. “Cass, have a seat.” I sat. Brenda’s face was arranged in a placid, concerned expression. “Cass, about yesterday, don’t take it personally.” “I haven’t taken it personally.” “Good.” Brenda picked up her tea mug. “The truth is, I gave you that low score for your own good.” I looked up. “For my good?” “Yes, absolutely.” Brenda sighed, leaning forward. “Look at you. Great numbers, but you’re too blunt. In the corporate world, execution isn’t enough; you have to learn the soft skills.” “I put you in the bottom tier because I want you to understand that sheer ability is insufficient. You need to focus on internal networking, on deference, on aligning with your leadership.” “Do you understand?” I nodded slowly. “I do.” “Good.” Brenda set down her mug. “Then you won’t need to attend the hearing on Friday.” I blinked, feigning surprise. “Why not?” “It’ll just be humiliating for you. Instead, I’ll talk to HR myself and have you quietly reassigned to another department. A fresh start, a clean slate. Wouldn’t that be better?” I stared at her. Her eyes were wide and sincere. If I didn’t know everything I knew, I might actually believe her selfless concern. But I knew. Transfer? What a joke. She was terrified that I would say something at the Executive Review Session. “Brenda, I appreciate the offer.” I stood up. “But I have to attend the review.” Her composure cracked again. “Cass, what is your issue?” “No issue at all. I was ranked in the bottom tier, and I’m required by process to go and explain why. It’s protocol, and I intend to follow it.” “You—” I didn’t wait for her to finish. I turned and walked out. Behind me, I heard the sharp, metallic clang of a mug being dropped onto the desk. Back at my desk, I went back to work. At three, Dustin sidled over. He pulled up a chair and leaned in conspiratorially. “Cass, can we talk strategy?” “About what?” “About your future.” Dustin lowered his voice. “You know Brenda is out to get you, right?” “I’ve noticed.” “So why are you pushing back? Do you have any idea that if she decides to blackball you, you’re done in this company?” I paused my typing. “Dustin, why are you telling me this?” Dustin sighed. “Because I hate to see talent wasted. Cass, your performance is stellar, but you don’t know the rules. Brenda has been here fifteen years. She’s entrenched. You can’t win this fight.” “I’m not trying to fight her.” “Then why are you ignoring her advice? A transfer is a lifeline! A quiet move to a different team is better than this corporate bloodbath.” I looked at Dustin. His eyes held a trace of genuine anxiety, but there was something else, too—a restless, probing curiosity. I realized: He wasn’t here to counsel me. He was here to find out what I knew. Brenda had sent her scout. “Dustin, thank you for your concern,” I said, offering a bland smile. “But I’ll manage my career myself.” His face fell slightly. “Cass, don’t be foolish. I’m trying to help you.” “I know.” “So you’re still going to—” “I thought about it all night,” I cut him off. “I’m going to the Executive Review Session on Friday. I’m going to clearly explain why I was ranked last.” “The outcome after that is up to the company, not me.” Dustin stared at me for a few tense seconds. Then he stood up and gave my shoulder a patronizing pat. “Fine. Just make sure you know what you’re doing.” He left. I continued working. My mind was clear, peaceful. Three years ago, when I first started, I was naive. I thought effort was the only currency. I was wrong. The first time Brenda stole my credit, I thought it was an accident. The second time, I thought I’d failed to communicate properly. The third time, I finally understood. It wasn’t an accident, and it wasn’t a misunderstanding. It was the system. In this department, Brenda was the system. If she said you were worthy, you were. If she said you were a low performer, you were. Revenue? Ability? Irrelevant. The only thing that mattered was compliance. I didn’t want to be compliant. But I wasn’t going to be a martyr, either. So I chose the third path. Patience. Wait until the evidence was ironclad. Wait until the timing was perfect. Wait for the killing blow. That night, back home, I opened the folder again. 87 audio files. 312 email screenshots. Three years of performance reports. And the complaint letter. I printed the letter out. Fifteen pages, stapled cleanly. I signed the last page, then took my phone. I opened the corporate website. Under the “Ethics & Compliance” section, I found the address for the Compliance Department Whistleblower Inbox. I bundled the complaint letter and all the supporting evidence into a single, encrypted file and attached it. Send Successful. I stared at the words on the screen and exhaled slowly. Three years. The wait was over. Brenda, are you ready? 3. Early on Wednesday, the third day, I sensed the shift the moment I walked in. The receptionist’s gaze was strange. The colleagues I passed in the elevator went silent when they saw me. I allowed myself a small smirk. Word travels fast. When I entered the bullpen, Jenna was the first to react. “Cassidy Rhodes, what did you do?!” I set down my bag. “What did I do?” “You—,” Jenna pointed a shaking finger at me, “—you blew the whistle on Brenda?!” The office went dead quiet. All eyes were on me. I sat down and logged into my computer. “Yes.” “Are you insane?!” Jenna shrieked. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done? You’re committing career suicide!” “I know exactly what I’ve done.” “You—” “Jenna.” I finally looked up. “I didn’t just blow the whistle on Brenda.” Jenna’s face instantly went white. “W-what does that mean?” I just smiled. “You know what it means.” Jenna stood paralyzed. Dustin strode over, his face flushed with panic. “Cass, we need to talk in private!” I didn’t move. “Say what you need to say, Dustin. There’s no need for privacy now.” Dustin’s complexion deepened to a fiery red. “Did you include us in your complaint?” “I filed a complaint regarding inequitable performance evaluations,” I corrected him. “Whether or not you were complicit is for the Compliance Team to determine.” Dustin pointed, his lips trembling. “You—you just wait!” He spun around and stormed off. He was definitely running to Brenda. I continued working. Ten minutes later, Brenda appeared. She stood over my desk, her face a mask of iron-gray fury. “Cassidy Rhodes. My office. Now.” I stood up. I followed her into the small conference room. The moment the door shut, Brenda’s façade completely collapsed. “Cassidy, what is your endgame here?” I looked straight at her. “My endgame is a fair performance review.” “Fair?” Brenda sneered. “You’re a good performer, yes, but do you think strong numbers are the only currency in business?” “The score I gave you was based on a composite evaluation. You have ability, but you have no polish. What’s wrong with that assessment?” I nodded. “Fine. Then let me ask you this—” “That $3.2 million deal I closed last year with The Pinnacle Group—why did the credit end up going to Jenna?” Brenda hesitated. “That was team collaboration—” “Jenna never met the client once. I negotiated the contract, I chased the final payment, I managed the post-sales support. Where was she?” Brenda’s color was draining away. “And another thing.” I kept going. “In April, I spearheaded the Centennial Industries project, worth $1.8 million. You said the scope was too big for me and ‘assigned’ Dustin to ‘assist’ me. The result?” “Dustin never sent a single email or made a single call, yet after the contract was signed, he took a 40% commission split as his ‘assistance fee.’” “Brenda, do you think that’s fair?” Brenda was silent for a few beats. Then she spoke, her voice lower. “Cass, you’re too young. The corporate world isn’t black and white. Jenna and Dustin have been with me for years. Is it wrong for me to look out for them?” “I’m aware of your performance. But you’re too much of a lone wolf, too adversarial. I scored you low because I wanted you to learn to compromise.” “This was for your own good.” I looked at her. “Brenda, do you honestly believe that?” “Then let me tell you my version of ‘good’—” “In three years, I’ve closed $17.7 million in business. My total bonuses add up to less than $100,000. Jenna, who has closed less than $3 million in three years, has banked almost $300,000.” “Is that what you call looking out for me?” Brenda’s face darkened completely. “Cassidy Rhodes, stop being naïve. I saw your little complaint letter. It’s all petty squabbles and minor grievances. Do you really think the corporate office cares about that?”

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After six months of torture at the hands of Julian Thorne, I finally died. I plunged a fruit knife cleanly into my heart. I stopped breathing in less than three minutes. When Julian got the news, he laughed maniacally. “Good! Good riddance!” He ordered my heart to be removed, cremating only the empty shell of my body. He said I didn’t deserve to keep Mia’s heart. But later, he searched the entire country for mediums and priests, begging at altars. “Sarah, I’m begging you. Come back and see me, even if it’s just in my dreams…” Julian wept like a desperate child before the silk tree he had chopped down with his own hands. But my body was incomplete, my ashes scattered, my soul unable to return. Even though I was right there, he couldn’t see a thing. Chapter 1 When Julian heard I had stabbed myself in the heart and died, he froze for a few seconds, then burst into wild laughter. “Good! She’s finally dead! Saves me the trouble of doing it myself!” He laughed until tears streamed down his face. I knew he was crying tears of joy. After all, in the six months since we got married, he had used every method possible to torment me, both openly and secretly. Wasn’t his goal to “dispose” of me without crossing the legal line? Like when he gave me a kitten, only for me to find its dried corpse hanging from the window the next day. Like celebrating my birthday with me, then splashing photos of him making out with another woman across the tabloids the very next morning. He wouldn’t poison me directly, but he made sure the cook prepared meals with conflicting ingredients that slowly weakened my body. He moved me to an isolated villa in the hills to avoid prying neighbors, then blasted eerie noises at night until I nearly lost my mind. He destroyed the company my father left behind, forced my brother from wealth into debt, and even framed him to send him to prison. In Julian’s eyes, I deserved all of this. Because my family had “schemed” to kill his beloved sister and stolen her living heart. Chapter 2 When I died, only Lena was home. She was a deaf-mute woman Julian hired specifically to “care” for me. Her only job was to mechanically follow Julian’s nutritional plan and make sure I ate everything. Watermelon and lamb to hurt my kidneys, honey and brown rice to cause tinnitus, shrimp and oranges to create toxins. If I refused to eat, she would kneel before me and slap her own face frantically. I knew Julian was watching everything through the surveillance cameras. Whether he was eating, in a meeting, working, or socializing, he would watch and smile with satisfaction. This wasn’t my first suicide attempt. Trapped in this godforsaken place, with my body reaching its limit, I wanted a release. If I died, everyone would be free. I had slit my wrists, turning the bathwater red. But the plug mysteriously failed, the water drained, and the wound clotted. I swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills, only to find they were expired and useless. In despair, I jumped from the third floor, but a tree broke my fall, and I only shattered my shoulder blade. Julian smiled cruelly. “Sarah, stop acting. Someone like you wouldn’t give up your life so easily.” He said if I truly had a conscience, I wouldn’t have schemed to kill Mia and lived on for so many years. I explained countless times that Mia’s death was an accident. But he didn’t believe me. How could there be such a coincidence? Why did a million dollars appear in her account right before her car accident? Why did she sign an organ donation agreement on her deathbed with no family present? He was convinced my wealthy family had “bought” Mia’s life. So, he planned his revenge, starting from the day he knelt before me, pressing his cheek against my heart and weeping. He didn’t know that the heart was Mia’s willing gift to me, along with her deepest love for him. “Sarah, after I’m gone, please love Julian for me… he’s so lonely.” So, the person who willingly walked into this trap wasn’t just him. It was me too. Chapter 3 For the final attempt, I chose the cleanest, most efficient way. When the knife pierced my heart, I couldn’t even speak. In less than three minutes, the blood was gone, and so was I. Julian was taken in for questioning. The police suspected foul play because the wound didn’t look like a typical suicide. Suicides usually have hesitation marks—the body’s instinctive reaction to pain. I didn’t have any. Just one clean thrust into the heart. “Maybe she was just that determined to die?” Julian laughed coldly. Yes. Someone who really wants to die will grit their teeth and push the knife in, no matter the pain. … Julian had an alibi, and Lena had no motive. My pocket contained a handwritten suicide note, though most of it was soaked in blood, leaving only the words “Suicide Note” legible. Julian was released. But before he left, he demanded an autopsy. My heart and I were separated. He said I didn’t deserve to leave with Mia’s heart. At the funeral home, when my brother saw my chest cut open, he broke down. “Julian, you animal!” Handcuffed and guarded by police, he rushed at Julian and punched him in the face. “Give my sister’s heart back! She can’t leave like this…” My brother had aged overnight in detention, facing multiple charges after his bankruptcy. The police had granted him a brief visit for the funeral. “That never belonged to her,” Julian said coldly, staring at my body lying in the flowers. I was surrounded by blooms, filling the empty cavity in my chest. At my brother’s insistence, a mortician had made me look presentable for my departure. I saw Julian walk up to me, looking down at my cold face. He stuffed something into my clothes—a yellow paper charm. Julian didn’t believe in God or ghosts. But to suppress me, he chose to believe. “I want to make sure she never reincarnates. I won’t let her disturb Mia.” My brother lunged at him. “Julian, you’re evil! Sarah suffered enough—” “She deserved it.” Julian crushed a rose in his hand, the thorns piercing his skin. Blood dripped onto my pale lips. He used to love the taste of those lips. In that moment, I wondered if I had ever truly been loved. The police dragged my brother away. He screamed, “Julian, you’ll regret this! You’ll regret what you did to Sarah!” Regret? Standing in the empty hall, Julian stared at my smiling portrait. How could he regret it? From the moment he approached me with gentle lies, he had been planning this day. If he regretted anything, it was probably that he didn’t kill me himself. … Julian took Mia’s heart and incinerated it separately, burying the ashes in front of her grave, returning her body to wholeness. As for my ashes, he didn’t want them. He told the staff to throw them away. But laws prevented such disposal, so the staff stored me in a cheap urn. Since my brother was in custody, no one claimed me. That afternoon, a worker accidentally knocked over a shelf in the storage room. A gust of wind scattered me into the sky… Julian returned to the empty villa as darkness fell. Lena had prepared dinner, but he didn’t touch a bite. Finally, Julian spoke. “Lena, I’m moving out in a few days. This house is yours for retirement.” Chapter 4 Lena was deaf-mute, but she could hear with hearing aids. She signed something in response. I didn’t understand sign language, but her expression seemed to say, “I don’t need it.” “This is the last thing I can do for Mia.” Julian pushed the deed toward Lena. “I… really wish I could call you Mom with Mia one more time.” The food went cold. Julian looked up, staring in the direction of my soul. I knew he couldn’t see or feel me. If souls could communicate, why didn’t Mia ever come to him? Mia, I’m sorry. This is as far as I can go. I tried my best… Then, I saw Julian stand up. He pushed aside Lena’s food and opened the freezer. He took out a box of frozen dumplings. I had made them two months ago. Before he showed his true colors, we had moments of warmth. I was a good cook. My heart condition kept me from school and play, so cooking became my hobby. When we were together, Julian often missed meals due to work. I would bring food to his office and sit quietly by his side. He loved my dumplings, so I filled the freezer for him. Even if he hadn’t driven me to suicide, my heart wouldn’t have lasted much longer. Mia once said Julian suffered a lot as a child and often went hungry. Even now, wealthy and powerful, he ate without elegance. The water boiled. The dumplings floated, bobbing like my turbulent life. He devoured them, stuffing himself until he vomited. As he retched, he clawed at the floor and wailed. “You’re finally dead! You’re finally dead, Sarah!” I watched as he rolled onto the floor, covering his eyes with an arm, sobbing until the veins in his neck bulged. The next second, he scrambled up and ran into the yard. He grabbed a shovel and hacked down the silk tree.

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I spent two years in a relationship with a guy younger than me. He was handsome, full of energy, and charming. Just when I was thinking about taking the next step, we had a fight. In a fit of rage, the man who used to sweetly call me “Babe” let his mask slip. “Old hag.” Later, at his loud, crowded birthday party, I happened to be dining at a nearby table with a new man. He saw me and rushed over like a lunatic. “Babe, let’s stop this cold war, okay?” I smiled at him calmly. “Sorry, we’re already broken up.” “Oh, by the way, don’t call me Babe anymore. You should probably call me… sister-in-law.” 1 The moment the words left his mouth, we both froze. “Old hag.” I never thought I’d hear those words come from Liam’s mouth. “I… I didn’t mean that.” Liam’s face softened a bit, but his words remained stubborn. “Annie, I’m barely twenty-two. Do you really expect me to be as dead inside as you are?” I suddenly felt exhausted. Liam was young. Vibrant. He was still in grad school. After we moved in together, he went out drinking every two or three days, often stumbling home at 2 or 3 AM. I didn’t have his energy. Between the pressure at work and his late nights, I was barely sleeping. Every time the door creaked open, every drunken stumble in the hallway, ruined my entire night. For months, my nerves had been frayed, fatigue eating away at me. I tried to talk to him, to ask him to cut back on the pointless partying. But in his anger, the truth slipped out. “No wonder the guys call you an old hag. You’re just a buzzkill who won’t let anyone have fun.” In that instant, I was stunned. It was like I was looking at a stranger. The silence stretched for minutes. Liam’s phone buzzed. A male voice on the other end urged him on: “Liam, bro, where are you? Did Annie lock you in?” “No way, Liam! Is the old hag actually grounding you?” That second voice belonged to a girl. I knew her. She was the “princess” of Liam’s friend group. Cute face, disgusting personality. “Shut up,” Liam snapped, frowning as he hung up. He looked at me, his tone slightly softer. “I won’t come back tonight. I won’t disturb your sleep.” Slam. The door closed. I stared at the door for a long time before looking down. It was only a four-year age gap. When things were good, I was his sweet “Babe.” When he was angry, the truth came out. To him, I was just an old hag who was four years his senior. 2 Liam didn’t come home that night. I took half a sleeping pill and actually got some rest. My biological clock woke me up at six. I heard the front door open. I washed up and walked out to find Liam just returning. He was holding bags of my favorite breakfast from the bakery down the street. Seeing me awake, he pulled a small velvet box from his pocket like he was presenting a treasure. Inside was a necklace I had left in my online cart for months, too hesitant to buy. “About last night… I said something stupid. Don’t hold it against me, okay?” That was Liam. Dating a younger guy wasn’t easy. We fought a lot over the last two years. He was generous with gifts—flowers, luxury items I wanted but wouldn’t buy for myself. Usually, a little coaxing and a gift would smooth things over. But this time, I knew. I couldn’t let it go. “Old hag.” Those two words had torn through the illusion of our love. It was repulsive. Liam thought this was just another small spat. He thought his usual tricks would work. But I just felt tired. “I’m not mad anymore,” I said flatly. “Go get some sleep.” Liam let out a sigh of relief. After he went into the bedroom, I left the necklace on the entryway table. This sweet date couldn’t fix the slap in the face he gave me last night. 3 For the next few days, Liam focused on his studies. His schedule became almost normal. Until the weekend. He tested the waters. “It’s Sarah’s birthday. We’re going to Karaoke tonight. Won’t be late.” Sarah. The girl who called me an old hag on the phone. I knew exactly what she was about. “I haven’t been to Karaoke in a while,” I said, looking at him. Liam froze. “You… want to go?” “Can’t I?” I rarely joined his social events. In the first six months, the “honeymoon phase,” he dragged me along. But I realized quickly that those loud, chaotic environments weren’t for me. Eventually, our social lives separated completely. The last time I saw his friends was months ago, at Liam’s birthday. “It’s going to be loud. I’m afraid you won’t like it,” Liam mumbled, trying to find an excuse. I shook my head calmly. “It’s fine. I’m off tomorrow. I want to relax too.” Liam looked uncomfortable, but he agreed. Before we left, he picked out a trendy, oversized hoodie for me. “See? Now you look a few years younger.” I smiled faintly but didn’t speak. His friends often made fun of my age behind my back. “Robbing the cradle,” they’d say. Or they’d joke that Liam was smart for snagging a “sugar mommy” early. In the beginning, Liam would drink them under the table for those comments. “Say one more word about my girl and I’ll end you,” he’d slur. Back then, he really didn’t care about the four years. But now? It had become his biggest insecurity. 4 We got to the Karaoke bar around eight. Liam immediately melted into the crowd of his friends. They greeted me politely, but their eyes were cold. Sarah, the birthday girl, saw me and made a dramatic face. “Annie! Who bought you that hoodie? You’re, like, twenty-eight. Trying a bit hard, aren’t we?” “Sarah.” Liam’s voice carried a warning. “Annie looks great. Don’t be rude.” Sarah huffed, then shoved the guy next to Liam out of the way and clung to Liam’s arm. “Come on, Liam! It’s my birthday! Don’t just sit with Annie. Come play dice with me!” Liam didn’t pull away. He glanced at me, his expression relaxed and handsome. “Babe, I’ll be right back.” “Okay.” The room got loud fast. These kids, with no real jobs or stress, drank and screamed over the music. I sat silently with a drink, watching Liam’s voice get louder. When he won a game, he high-fived Sarah, their bodies pressing together naturally. Noise. Chaos. Everything I hated. After the honeymoon phase, I had calmed down. I realized our differences weren’t “complementary”—they were cracks in the foundation. Different schedules. Different hobbies. I wanted to rest on weekends; he wanted to party. I tried to keep up, but it just left me exhausted. I had thought about breaking up before. But I naively believed that love conquers all. “Liam! Why did you push me?” Sarah’s whiny voice cut through the noise. Liam was drunk now. Sarah was clinging to him like ivy. But when her arm brushed his, Liam pushed her away. His rejection was loud and clear. “Get off. You’re not Annie. My Annie isn’t this… young.” 5 Sarah pouted, pretending to be mad. “What? Are you saying Annie is old?” Liam mumbled something I couldn’t catch, except for one sentence. “She’s twenty-eight.” Sarah beamed. She glanced at me, her eyes full of triumph. She was a sophomore. Eight years younger than me. She was definitely “tender” compared to me. Our fights lately always circled back to sleep schedules and age. He’d started tagging me in TikToks of younger, “hotter” girls. When I got upset, he’d say, “They’re young and pretty. What’s wrong with looking?” Yeah. Everyone was young and pretty. Except me. I was old and dead inside. I quietly gathered my things. As I walked out, a few people noticed. “Annie, you heading out? Don’t worry, we’ll take care of Liam,” a guy by the door said. I nodded perfunctorily. Nobody wanted me there. Including Liam. Just like I didn’t fit in this room, I didn’t fit in his life. Age, personality… we were just wrong. Two years of trial and error, and the result was failure. I called an Uber. The night wind hit my face, making my eyes water. The driver, a woman in her thirties, saw me in the rearview mirror. “Rough night, honey? If he’s not the one, dump him. You’re too young to waste your time being sad.” I wiped my eyes. She was right. Why suffer? Better to cut it off. I opened Liam’s chat. I didn’t hesitate. “Liam, let’s break up. Let’s end this on good terms.” 6 The next morning, I took all my saved vacation time and booked a trip. I had just finished a huge project, and my boss gave me a $2,000 bonus. Fifteen hours later, I landed in a foreign country. My phone buzzed. It was Liam. “Annie, what is wrong with you? Breaking up out of nowhere? Do you know all my friends saw that text?” Seeing the new scenery, my mood lifted. My voice was calm. “If you’re embarrassed, you can tell them you dumped me.” I didn’t care about my reputation. When I started dating a guy four years younger, people talked. A little more gossip wouldn’t hurt. “Annie, that’s not the point. Why are we breaking up?” Liam was suppressing his anger. Why? There were too many reasons. I was too lazy to list them. “Liam, I don’t want to date a younger guy anymore.” I didn’t want to be called an “old hag” behind my back by the boy I loved. It hurt too much. “You pursued me, remember? Were you just playing with me?” Liam gritted his teeth. Right. I chased him. We were at the same university. Before I graduated with my Master’s, I had a brief campus romance. Liam was hot, rich, and a gentleman. I thought I had won the lottery. But nobody is perfect. I enjoyed his youth, so I had to pay the price: his immaturity, his lifestyle, and the endless stream of girls hovering around him. I had paid enough. “Yeah, my bad. Liam, I apologize. But we’re done.” My calmness must have infuriated him. “Fine! Break up then! Annie, don’t you dare regret this!” I thought about it. I wouldn’t.

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On our wedding night, Weston Raymond suddenly confessed to his infidelity and presented me with two choices. Either I could look the other way for the duration of the marriage, and he would compensate me handsomely, or we could divorce immediately. After seven years together, I assumed he was joking. It wasn’t a joke. Post-nuptials, he quickly established what I came to call a “transactional marriage.” When the betrayals mounted, he used money to buy out my hysterics, my furious screams, my collapse. When I was grieving a miscarriage, he used money to buy out the life of the child we lost. Even when my mother was hospitalized with a serious illness—and his latest mistress, Kira, texted her intimate photos of them in bed, triggering a heart attack that rushed her into surgery—he maintained a chilling indifference. “Ten million dollars,” he said, his voice flat. “To buy out your mother’s broken heart.” “If that’s not enough, I’ll raise the price.” I didn’t answer. I stood guard outside the operating room for a day and a night. The moment the doctor announced my mother’s death, I dialed Weston’s number. “I want a billion dollars.” This time, what he was buying out was no longer something trivial. It was the last ember of love I had for him. 1 The phone line went silent for a moment, then I heard a faint, unmistakable sound of a woman’s breathlessness in the background. A moment later, Weston’s footsteps moved to a quieter place. His voice, when it came, was a razor-sharp sneer. “A hundred million? Talia Quinn, have I been too generous these past three years? Did that make you think you had the leverage for an absurd demand?” “Your mother just got a little rattled by a photo. Even if she were actually dead, she wouldn’t be worth a dime more than ten million, do you understand?” Was she not worth it? I thought even ten billion couldn’t buy back my mother’s life. And now, she really was gone. Weston didn’t give me a chance to speak, hanging up the phone with a decisive click. The screeching static pierced my eardrum and lodged itself in my heart. I turned and walked into the morgue, looking at the stillness beneath the white sheet covering my mother. A wave of bone-deep cold washed over me. I bent down and hugged her icy body. Instead of my mother’s gentle, fragmented words of concern, all I could hear was the doctor’s regretful sigh. “If not for the massive shock that led to the sudden heart failure, the patient would have been ready for surgery soon. Her recovery looked promising.” “It’s a great pity. It was just so sudden…” Sudden, indeed. Just three days ago, I was nestled in my mother’s arms, crying and promising her that as soon as she was discharged, I would divorce Weston and cut him out of my life for good. I never imagined that death would arrive faster than fRaymondom. When my mother was rushed to the operating room, Weston had shielded Kira behind him. “Kira didn’t do it on purpose. Your mother’s health was already failing; she couldn’t handle the shock.” “Talia Quinn, you’re just making a scene for money, aren’t you?” “Ten million dollars. Is that enough, or not?” The ruthless sound of his voice hammered in my skull, tearing my heart into two ragged pieces. I trembled, clutching my mother’s cold corpse, and the tears I had suppressed for so long finally broke, one after another, splashing onto her closed eyelids, forming a shallow pool of pure despair. “Mom… I was wrong… please wake up…” “I don’t love Weston anymore… I’ll divorce him… We’ll go home, just us, we’ll go home…” When the sobs finally turned to dry retching, I knelt on the floor, convulsing in pain. Fearing I would collapse completely, a nurse gave me a sedative. When I woke up, my heart felt like ash. I picked up my phone and called Weston again. He answered immediately, his voice heavy with the certainty of victory. “Figured out the right price, have you?” “Yes,” I said softly. “Ten million dollars.” Ten million. It was enough to buy out the heart that had pulsed for Weston for the last decade. It was enough. 2 Having received the answer he wanted, Weston was satisfied. His voice lifted with a self-congratulatory cadence. “That’s my girl. That’s the sort of class and composure a Raymond wife should have.” “As long as you keep being this compliant, I’ll make sure to come home on time every day.” The Weston of eighteen would have been mortified to hear those words. He was the boy who chased the school bus on his bike, begging me to be his. He was the man who knelt on the sidewalk, offering me a ring bought with his first startup funds, asking me to marry him. At eighteen, he’d pedaled me around the entire lake, shouting his promises into the wind. “I, Weston Raymond, swear by everything, I will love Talia Quinn for the rest of my life.” The night wind must have been too harsh, scattering those earnest, youthful vows. Now, only the wreckage remained. I wouldn’t fight him anymore. I didn’t want him anymore. After the cremation, I held my mother’s ashes, letting a final, single tear fall. “Mom, we’re going home, and we’re never looking back.” Back at the house, I carried the urn upstairs to pack my things. Kira slinked out of the master suite, wearing my silk nightgown, leaning suggestively against the doorframe. In the past, I would have exploded. Now, my mother was dead, and so was my heart. There was only numbness and silence left. Seeing my lack of reaction, Kira intentionally pulled down the neckline, revealing a constellation of aggressive hickeys on her throat, trying to provoke me. “Wes said this marital bed was custom-ordered, and when I mentioned it last night, he actually let me try it out.” “It’s very comfortable, so big and soft.” It was true, Weston had customized it. But ever since he confessed his infidelity on our wedding night, and I stubbornly decided to fight him, that bed had been home only to hysterical screams and endless tears. My face remained expressionless. I spoke with a deathly chill. “Get out.” Kira’s smug expression froze, then she recovered, letting out a dismissive scoff. “I don’t know what you have to be so proud of. Wes obviously doesn’t love you. You cling to him and refuse to divorce; you’re an embarrassment to women everywhere!” “If I were you, I’d just jump off a bridge and die. At least you’d leave a little impression on Wes’s heart.” She paused, the smirk turning cruel. “And your mom? A daughter so self-pitying and pathetic—she deserved to be six feet under.” My head snapped up, a flash of red-hot fury replacing the numbness in my eyes. “Say that again.” Kira snorted. “I said it! Your mom deserved to die—” Before she could finish, I slapped her across the face. My palm was shaking, burning. Kira grabbed her cheek, registered the pain, and then lunged, wrenching my hair and slamming my head against the wall with a sickening thud. The world spun violently. I clung to the urn, refusing to let go. Seeing this, Kira realized what I was protecting and began frantically trying to wrest the box from my grasp, her nails digging into my arm. Just then, Weston emerged from the bathroom, frowning. He yanked Kira and me apart. Kira immediately shed her aggression, pointing at the slap mark on her face and dissolving into theatrical tears. “Wes, she hit me! And she tried to smash that ugly box over my head!” Weston’s face hardened, ignoring the bloodied scratches Kira’s nails had left on my face and neck. “Talia Quinn, apologize.” I gasped in pain, forcing the tears back into the corners of my eyes. “Over my dead body.” Weston suddenly raised his hand, aiming for my face. I lifted my chin, daring him to strike. He didn’t hit me. Instead, his hand shot past my face, snatching the urn from my arms with brutal force. He raised his arm high and hurled the vessel to the floor. I lunged to catch it, but I was too slow. CRASH! The deafening sound of shattering ceramic. My heart burst open in my chest. 3 I crawled on my hands and knees toward the fragments of the urn, my hands shaking uncontrollably. My mother’s last words echoed in my mind. “Tal, please divorce Wes. All I want is for you to be happy…” What exactly had three years of desperate refusal bought me? Only another thousand daggers of pain. My eyes were bloodshot, but I couldn’t produce another tear. I could only futilely pick up the broken pieces, trying to put back what couldn’t be mended. The next second, Weston lifted his foot and ground it down, crushing my mother’s remains. I went insane, pounding his shin with my fists. “Get out! Get out!” “Everyone, get out!” Weston didn’t budge. He looked down at me and sneered. “It’s just a miserable, cursed container. Why are you having such a meltdown over it?” “Look at you, Talia. You look like a lunatic.” Kira wrapped her arm around his, whining affectionately. “Wes, she hit me pretty hard. Just a broken box seems too easy on her, doesn’t it?” Weston chuckled, indulgently. “What do you want to do?” “Give her ten slaps back, to make it even.” Weston smiled, then his tone turned ice-cold, the words striking my ears like pellets of hail. “Did you hear that, Talia? Kira wants satisfaction.” I looked up sharply, glaring at him through my red-rimmed eyes. He paused, then curled his lip. “What’s with the drama? You haven’t cried like this in ages. All this fuss over a broken container?” It was only then that I realized my face was slick with tears. The man squatted down, brushing a tear away from my cheek. His action was gentle, but his tone was purely arrogant. “Name your price. Buy out the box.” I started to laugh—a dry, horrible sound. Buyout. It was always a buyout! In Weston’s eyes, everything I possessed—my feelings, my loyalty, my memories—could be bought and sold. Four years ago, on our wedding night, I couldn’t accept his terms. I screamed and raged. Weston ignored my breakdown, called another woman, and left me alone in the custom bed. Before midnight, photos of them blanketed the web. I, his wife, became the city’s laughingstock. I sat there until dawn, clutching the images. When he called, his voice was just as dismissive as it was now. “Can we discuss the terms now?” “Talia Quinn, I’ll give you the status, the name, and the money. You’re just being gRaymondy if you also expect my exclusive loyalty.” I couldn’t comprehend how he could promise me everything, only to turn around and label me the gRaymondy one. I refused to let go, dragging him through the wreckage. Every time I was hurt, he bought out my pain with money. This time, let him pay to buy out the entire relationship. I looked at Weston and repeated the number. “A billion dollars.” The word left my mouth, and Weston burst into laughter. “Talia Quinn, have you lost your mind? Is this junk so valuable? Does it contain, what, a human life?” I gripped the shards of the urn in my palm, the irony choking me. Kira giggled sweetly. “So sorry, Miss Quinn, but Wes can’t give you that billion.” “He just bought me ten diamonds from South Africa for my birthday crown, and they were a hundred million each. Exactly one billion, actually.” The last vestige of reason I held on to snapped. The ceramic shards dug into my palm, drawing blood. I shot up, lunging to stab Kira in the face. I was a second too slow. Weston quickly shielded her, shoving me hard. I stumbled back, crashing into the stair railing, and a gush of warm blood immediately streamed down my forehead. Weston didn’t even glance at me. He was too busy frantically checking Kira to see if she was hurt. Kira huddled in his arms, cautiously cradling her abdomen. “Wes, my stomach hurts. The baby isn’t hurt, is it?” I looked up, stunned, staring at Kira’s small bump. She immediately panicked. “Wes, what do we do? She knows about the baby! She looks terrifying. She wouldn’t hurt the baby, would she?” Weston turned back to me, his eyes filled with fierce wariness. “Talia Quinn, one last chance. Name a price.” A thousand poisonous, hooked vines attacked me from all sides, piercing my heart. In that moment, whether it was a billion or ten million. I didn’t want the money anymore. I just wanted to vanish from Weston Raymond’s world forever. 4 My silence only confirmed Kira’s fears for Weston. He was convinced I would hurt her child. His voice was glacial. “Talia Quinn, I’ll give you three days. Give me a satisfactory answer.” “Don’t forget, your mother is still in the hospital.” But wasn’t my mother’s urn currently being ground under his foot? I started to weep with silent laughter, watching him carefully gather Kira into his arms and carry her away. The massive, empty house was left to me alone. Ignoring the blood dripping from my forehead, I knelt on the floor, using a bottle to collect the remnants of my mother’s ashes. My vision was clouded with despair. After retrieving my ID and bank cards, I took off the princess-cut diamond engagement ring I had worn for five years. As I set it down, I could faintly hear Weston’s proposal promise. “Tal, give me a chance to protect you for the rest of my life, okay?” It turned out “the rest of my life” was fleetingly short. As the night deepened, I took only a small bag and walked out the door. Two security guards appeared instantly, forced me into a black car, and drove me to a private, isolated facility. I fought and screamed, but the guard’s voice was devoid of emotion. “Mr. Raymond said he’s giving you three days.” “If you haven’t softened by then, you’ll stay here for good.” The door slammed shut. CRASH! I hammered the door until my knuckles bled and my voice was raw, but the guard never opened it. I was locked in that mental health facility for three days and three nights, which felt like three centuries. The only people I saw were the staff. Whenever I neared hysteria, they would hold me down and forcefully inject me with sedatives. When they left, the silence was absolute, broken only by the rambling wails of a patient in the next room, chipping away at my last defenses. I felt myself truly slipping into madness. I began to hallucinate. I saw my mother, looking at me with a heart-wrenching pity. “Tal, how did you let yourself become like this?” I also saw the young Weston. He stood by my bedside, gently stroking my hair. “Tal, when you’re better, I’ll take you to see the biggest hydrangea fields.” On the fourth morning, the drug’s effects began to fade. I opened my eyes groggily to a bouquet of hydrangeas. For a moment, I thought the eighteen-year-old Weston had come to rescue me. Then I saw the man by the bed, his expression cold and hard. “Have you made your decision?” I slowly sat up, my face numb. “Yes. I have.” Weston nodded, satisfied. “How much will it cost for you to accept the child?” “Don’t worry, even after the baby is born, I’ll still come home on schedule. Nothing will change…” “One dollar.” I calmly interrupted his rambling. Weston froze, disbelief etched on his face. Then, displeasure. “Talia Quinn, are you playing games? You would never ask for a single dollar.” “I want one dollar.” I held out my hand, my voice firm. “Give me one dollar, and you can have children with anyone you want. I won’t interfere again.” Weston ground his teeth, seemingly infuriated but also amused by my audacity. He pulled a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and flung it at my face. “Fine! Fine, you win!” “You better stick to your word!” With that, he kicked a chair aside, signaled for the guards outside to leave, and turned away. I retrieved my bag and confirmed its contents. Then, I strode out of the facility. The moment I stepped past the iron gate, I threw the hundred-dollar bill high into the sky and never looked back. Weston’s assistant told him I had left the facility, and his first assumption was that I had gone home. However, when he arrived at the house, I wasn’t there to greet him, nor was his favorite dinner on the table. A sudden dread seized him. He called his assistant. “Didn’t you say Talia was released? Why isn’t she here?” “Mr. Raymond, I didn’t say Mrs. Raymond went home.” “Then where could she be? Her mother is still in the hospital…” Before he could finish, the assistant’s voice came back, laced with shock. “Mr. Raymond, the truth is, Mrs. Raymond’s mother passed away four days ago. Resuscitation failed. Didn’t you know?”

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I was scrolling through Reddit when I saw a photo of myself. The caption read: [Title: My online girlfriend of one year refuses to meet me. What should I do?] The next second, my roommate suddenly leaned in close: “Guys, how can I lose 30 pounds in a month?” While I was still confused, she added: “Lily, if I lose weight, do you think we’d look alike?” 1 I stared at the Reddit post. The comments had already piled up into a skyscraper. [Bro, wake up. That’s definitely a catfish using a stolen photo. You’re being scammed!] [She won’t meet you because the photos are probably edited beyond recognition. Why else would she be scared?] The OP was still desperately defending her: [Impossible. We’ve voice chatted, and she sends me selfies from different angles every day. It can’t be Photoshop!] My mind went blank. In that photo, I was wearing my pajamas. There was no way that photo should be public. Just then, Bella’s voice floated down from the top bunk: “Guys, seriously, is it possible to lose 30 pounds in a month?” Another roommate on the opposite bed rolled over laughing. “Why? Are you in love? Losing 30 pounds in a month? You might as well starve to death!” Bella ignored her. She climbed down the ladder and ran over to me. Her gaze fixed straight on my face, scanning my features inch by inch. I was creeped out by her staring and took a step back. Suddenly, she spoke: “Lily, be honest. “If I lose weight, do you think we’d look somewhat alike?” The air froze. I looked up at her round cheeks, words stuck in my throat. 2 My heart hammered against my ribs, but I pushed down the rising panic. I kept my voice steady: “Who’s your boyfriend? Do we know him?” Bella lifted her chin. “You know Sterling Real Estate? He’s from that family!” She pulled a boastful smile. “Last month he sent me a bracelet worth over a grand, and he said he’d take me to meet his parents after graduation.” My roommate snorted with laughter. “A rich kid? He must have… unique tastes.” The smugness on Bella’s face instantly solidified, then her face flushed red. “What do you mean? He loves my soul!” Her voice was shrill, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. “He says I’m interesting, I understand him! I get him! What do you guys know!” The dorm fell silent, the atmosphere awkward. That Reddit thread was still updating. The OP asked: [I want to surprise her. What kind of guys do girls like this go for?] I looked up. Looking at Bella’s red nose. “Have you guys met in person? Is this an online relationship?” The other two roommates looked at her simultaneously, waiting for an answer. “Bella, don’t tell me you’ve never met?” “Yeah, don’t tell me you’re catfishing him.” It was meant as a joke, but the blood drained from Bella’s face rapidly. Her lips pressed tightly together. A moment later, she hastily dropped a “My advisor is looking for me” and grabbed her coat, rushing out the door. 3 The three of us left in the dorm looked at each other. That night, Bella couldn’t help showing off again. “Ethan knew I was in a bad mood today, so he ordered me a premium sushi platter. Four figures per person!” She brought back a takeout box that looked expensive. But I clearly saw my name on the receipt. The roommates exploded. “Holy crap! Ethan Sterling? Isn’t he the heartthrob from F University next door?” “He’s the heir to Sterling Real Estate? Bella, you caught a golden turtle!” She laughed lightly. “Of course. My boyfriend loves me very much!” No one needed to pry. Bella voluntarily confessed everything about Ethan. “My boyfriend loves gentle and considerate women like me the most. “Especially girls who love small animals.” She talked endlessly. “He says he likes me best with long hair, wearing dresses, looking clean and fresh.” “But your hair isn’t long…” A roommate pointed out. Bella choked and stopped talking. Likes long hair, wearing dresses, right? Well then, I’ll happily accept this boyfriend. 4 Weekend. I deliberately chose a white sundress. My long hair was let down, with just a simple wooden hairpin holding up a few strands. In the mirror, I looked like the picture of innocence. I waited by the basketball court at F University for nearly half an hour. Finally, Ethan walked toward the court. Simple white T-shirt, grey sweatpants, tall and straight. My heartbeat started to speed up, but it was mostly a strange kind of excitement. I took a deep breath, suppressing the nervousness. I quickened my pace, pretending to be distracted, and just as he was about to enter the court, I suddenly turned. “Oh!” I feigned panic. My whole body crashed into him. I fell precisely into his arms. A faint scent of sandalwood filled my nose. Reflexively, he reached out to steady my waist. “Ah! I’m sorry!” I exclaimed, still in his arms, my long hair cascading down. Ethan was stunned by this sudden “attack.” He looked down at me, his eyes full of surprise. “You…” Just as he started to speak, I interrupted him. “Sorry, sorry, I was in such a hurry to get back to class, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” I quickly stood firm, keeping my head down, avoiding his eyes. Leaving a hurried apology, I turned and walked away quickly. I could feel his gaze on my back, but I walked faster. Behind me, he seemed to be calling me, but I turned a deaf ear. 5 I walked briskly, heading straight for the school gate. Behind me came the sound of hurried footsteps and shouting. “Miss!” I didn’t stop, continuing forward. “Miss, please wait!” He finally caught up, grabbing my wrist. Like a startled rabbit, I whipped my head around, my face showing just the right amount of panic. “What… what are you doing?” I looked at him, my eyes full of defensiveness and confusion. Ethan was panting, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead. He looked at me, his eyes holding complex emotions I couldn’t read. “I…” He seemed to be organizing his words. I spoke first, a hint of grievance in my tone: “I apologized just now, I didn’t mean to bump into you.” I lowered my head, my voice getting smaller, “Do you want something else?” Looking pitiful, as if scared by him. He froze. His brows furrowed tightly, staring dead at my face, as if confirming something. “You don’t know me?” He finally asked the question. I looked up, blinked blankly, and then burst out laughing. The laugh was light, with a trace of amused helplessness. “Should we know each other?” I tilted my head looking at him, my eyes clear and open, full of pure unfamiliarity. “Is this the popular way guys pick up girls nowadays?” I deliberately dragged out the tone, a bit of teasing in my smile. With that, I didn’t give him any time to react. I pulled my wrist back and waved at him. “I’m leaving now, bye.” I turned. And walked toward the bus stop without looking back. I could feel his burning gaze, but I didn’t dare turn around. 6 My heart raced all the way back, but my face remained calm. Pushing open the dorm door, Bella was showing off a brand new Chanel box. “Look, Ethan sent me a New Year’s gift.” She lifted her chin, unable to hide her smugness. “The latest bag, a Chanel dress, and he transferred me $5200.” I didn’t speak, silently changing my shoes. She glanced at me and clicked her tongue. “Look at you, wasting that face. All you know is working part-time jobs, you deserve to be tired.” She looked me up and down contemptuously. “You don’t even know how to use your advantages.” I put down my water bottle, smiled, and didn’t reply. Just then, her phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, a flash of panic crossed Bella’s face. She took the phone to the balcony, lowering her voice. But I could still hear snippets, her tone urgent and fawning. A few minutes later, she walked back in, looking grim. “Hey,” she started unnaturally, “send me a selfie of you, right now.” I knew what was happening. “Sure.” I agreed readily, not asking why. I opened my gallery, deliberately scrolling past a few normal photos. Finally, I picked one from before I left today, wearing the white dress, hair down, smiling at the sunlight in the most clean and harmless way. Bella immediately looked down and tapped furiously on her phone. I pretended to organize my things, but watched her out of the corner of my eye. I saw her brows knitting tighter and tighter, staring at the screen, as if typing furiously at someone. Finally, she threw her phone onto the desk in frustration. Muttering unconsciously to herself: “What’s going on… he’s acting weird today.” I lowered my head, the corners of my mouth uncontrollably curling up.

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My fiancé, Carter, photoshopped my head out of our wedding photos and replaced it with his high school sweetheart’s face. He posted it on Instagram with the caption: “Ten years of waiting, finally an echo.” When I confronted him, furious, he shrugged it off. “What’s the big deal? Everyone can tell it’s photoshopped. It’s just a joke between friends. Isn’t that normal?” But on our wedding day, Carter’s friends and family all treated his “white moonlight,” Bella, as the bride. I grabbed Carter’s arm, begging him to acknowledge me, to tell them I was the one marrying him. instead, he pretended not to know me, turning his back to let Bella take his arm. Mistaken for a crazy woman trying to crash the wedding, I was dragged out by security and ended up in the ER with broken ribs. Lying in the hospital bed, I finally let go. I dialed the number of the mother I hadn’t spoken to in three years. “Mom, I agree to the arranged marriage.” 1 During my hospital stay, my fiancé didn’t call once. Instead, I saw a new post from Bella on Instagram. [Broad shoulders, narrow waist. So protective. Not sure if I can handle him tonight.] The photo showed Carter wearing only a towel around his waist, gently blow-drying Bella’s hair. His expression was tender, as if he were handling a priceless treasure. In the past, seeing this photo would have made me call Carter immediately. I would have screamed, asking why they weren’t setting boundaries, if Bella’s hands were broken, if he remembered he had a fiancée, if he loved me at all… But now, looking at the photo, I felt nothing. I even liked the post. A second later, Carter called. “Babe, don’t misunderstand. Bella’s hand got hurt at the wedding. I’m just helping her dry her hair.” Hurt at the wedding? I laughed coldly. Because Carter photoshopped our wedding photos with Bella’s face, the guests thought she was the bride. As the actual bride, I just wanted Carter to clarify. Instead, he said, “The bride is Bella. This girl is just a stalker obsessed with me.” That one sentence got me swarmed by his friends and family. I was beaten black and blue. And Bella? She got pricked by a safety pin while trying to rip the corsage off my chest. Love and indifference are so obvious. I was beaten until I couldn’t move, lying in a hospital bed. Bella got a pinprick and apparently lost the ability to take care of herself. My heart twitched. My feelings for him vanished in that instant. “Okay, I don’t misunderstand.” “If that’s it, I’m hanging up.” Carter, seemingly afraid I didn’t believe him, continued: “About the wedding… I just didn’t want Bella to feel embarrassed about the mix-up, so I didn’t clarify your identity. Please don’t be mad. We can redo the wedding later, okay?” I listened quietly. He was afraid Bella would be embarrassed. What about me? “I don’t care. You don’t need to explain.” Maybe because my tone was flat, not the usual instant forgiveness he expected, his apologetic voice turned angry. “Quinn, I already explained. What is this attitude?” “Why are you giving me attitude?” I was silent. My attitude? For years, no matter what mistakes Carter made or how many boundaries he crossed, the moment he showed weakness, I forgave him. I pretended nothing happened. I thought a man showing vulnerability was the ultimate apology. And now, after this? He still thought I would forgive him. I suddenly felt exhausted. My whole body ached as if I’d been run over by a truck. Hearing him continue to question me on the phone, I couldn’t take it anymore. I was about to hang up. Then Carter added: “By the way, discharge yourself tonight. You’re strong and thick-skinned, stop being dramatic about staying in the hospital.” “On your way back, stop by Peking Duck House and pick up an order. I’m craving it.” Peking Duck House was in Uptown. Our apartment was in Downtown. An hour and a half round trip. Carter really treated me like a dog. 2 I discharged myself. My hand was still throbbing, the cast heavy on my arm. I had to take an Uber home. But because of my injured hand, the fingerprint lock wouldn’t work. And the passcode kept showing as incorrect. Assuming Carter was home, I knocked. The door opened. It was Bella. She welcomed me in warmly, acting like the hostess. “Quinn, you’re back? Carter is in the shower.” “Oh, my bad. I hurt my finger, remember? Carter was worried the fingerprint scanner wouldn’t work for me, so he changed the passcode.” “It’s the anniversary of the day Carter and I started dating. You definitely wouldn’t know it. I’ll text it to you later.” Anniversary? Carter couldn’t remember my birthday, but he remembered the anniversary with his ex. I looked at Bella. She was wearing matching pajamas with Carter—the ones we bought. Her hair was dry, braided messily to the side, clearly Carter’s handiwork. She was holding a razor. Bella noticed my gaze. “Carter asked me to shave him. You don’t know, but back when we were together, he insisted I shave him every time. He wouldn’t let anyone else do it.” “Please don’t mind. We’re just friends now.” “If you’re unhappy, here, you do it.” She forcefully shoved the razor into my injured hand. Just then, the bathroom door opened. Carter walked out wearing the matching male pajama set. He was towel-drying his hair. “Bella, didn’t you say you’d help me shave? Why aren’t you coming in?” He froze when he saw me. His face, flushed from the steam, turned pale instantly. He walked over quickly to explain. “I was just tired, so I asked Bella to help me shave. Don’t misunderstand.” Honestly, their relationship didn’t need any more misunderstanding. Hand hurt, can’t dry hair. Arm sore, can’t shave. Can’t do anything for themselves, but happy to do everything for each other. I handed the razor back to Bella and walked toward the bedroom. Carter grabbed me, seemingly panicked. “Quinn, what is your attitude? You ignore me on the phone, and now I’m explaining to your face and you’re acting like this.” “Don’t push your luck!” He gripped my wrist hard, ignoring the fact that it was injured. “Also, why are you empty-handed? Didn’t I tell you to buy the duck?” “Why don’t you ever listen to me? Go buy it now!” The pain in my wrist finally snapped my patience. “I’m not buying it!” I shook off his hand and continued to the bedroom. Inside, I saw clothes scattered on the floor—jackets, underwear. On the bed were torn stockings and boxers. And hanging off the corner of our framed engagement photo… was a broken black bra strap. 3 Carter blocked my path, trying to close the door. “I just changed in here, it’s a bit messy.” “Go buy the duck. I’ll clean up the room.” I looked at him, then turned and went into the guest room. The walls weren’t soundproof, so I could hear everything in the living room clearly. “Carter, don’t be mad. I don’t need the duck. Don’t be hard on Quinn, she’s in a bad mood.” “Carter, if you’re hungry, I’ll cook for you, okay?” “Bella, you’re just too generous. unlike that woman. I told her a million times, but she always has to go against me.” “Okay, okay, let me shave you first. Or it’ll be scratchy tonight.” The voices in the living room faded. I dialed the number I hadn’t called in three years. “Mom, about that arranged marriage you mentioned… I agree.” My mom was overjoyed. “Daughter, you finally came to your senses! Dad and I are getting old, you’re our only child. You have no idea… you abandoned us for that man. Your dad’s hair turned white from worry these past five years.” “I heard about the wedding. That man isn’t worth your devotion. He’s fickle. He doesn’t deserve you.” “But since you agreed to the arrangement… how about the 8th of next month?” My mom’s voice sounded aged. My eyes welled up. I was so immature back then. I thought love conquered all. When my parents disapproved of Carter, I ran away with him without a second thought. Five years of no contact. But the moment I turned back, they were still there waiting for me. “Okay. I’ll leave as soon as I hand over my work here. Please help me plan the wedding.” “Wedding? What wedding?” The guest room door opened without warning. I hung up the phone subtly. I looked at Carter. He placed a takeout box on the nightstand. “Who were you talking to about a wedding?” “Didn’t I say we need to postpone the wedding for a while? Are you that desperate to marry me?” Looking at his panicked expression, I said calmly, “I was just explaining the situation to a friend.” Carter visibly relaxed. He opened the takeout box, revealing the roast duck inside. “You didn’t buy the duck, so Bella bought it.” “She was afraid you’d be upset, so she bought a whole one just for you. Quinn, let’s move past this. Don’t be unforgiving.” I covered my nose and mouth, turning my head away. Carter’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “What is this reaction? Bella was kind enough to apologize with food, and you’re disgusted?” “Are you going to waste her kindness? Quinn, don’t go too far!” Me? Go too far? “Do you not know I have a physiological revulsion to roast duck?” 4 Years ago, when Carter and I ran away together, we had less than a thousand dollars between us. To avoid burdening him, I took a job at a duck processing plant. I plucked thousands of ducks every day. The stench of raw poultry soaked into my skin. Over time, I developed a physiological nausea towards ducks. I couldn’t stand them, even cooked. Back then, Carter would hug me despite the smell. “Quinn, quit the job. seeing you like this breaks my heart. Your hands are peeling. I’m useless, making you suffer like this. I promise, I’ll make a lot of money and give you a good life.” But now, he forgot. I told him to take the duck away. Carter opened his mouth, but only said: “Sorry, Quinn. I forgot.” Actually, he didn’t forget. He just didn’t care anymore. In the past, he would cook dinner, do my laundry, and refuse to buy any duck products just so I wouldn’t smell it. He would hug me regardless of how I smelled. He once worked construction in 100-degree heat just to buy me a birthday cake. The past is gone. I walked to the window and took a deep breath, but the smell of duck grease still lingered. I dry heaved. Carter immediately tied up the bag. “What do you want to eat? I’ll make it.” I was about to say I didn’t need anything. Knock, knock. “Carter! I knocked over the takeout box and burned my hand! Can you take me to the hospital?” Carter immediately opened the door, looking at Bella with concern. “How could you be so careless? It’s all red. Your skin is so delicate, we can’t let it scar.” Before leaving, he remembered to say to me: “Quinn, I’m taking Bella to the hospital. She has a low pain tolerance.” The door slammed shut. I looked at the silent room and the takeout box on the nightstand. When the nausea passed, I took the box out to the trash. I saw Carter at the elevator, gently blowing on a small red spot on Bella’s hand. The elevator dinged. They entered. The doors closed, separating two worlds. And completely severing our future. 5 Carter didn’t come back. Bella, however, tirelessly sent me photos of her and Carter being intimate. I silently blocked Bella on WeChat. Next to the calendar, I placed an hourglass—a gift from Carter years ago. He said an hourglass could turn back time. So, I decided to give him three chances to fix his mistakes. I agreed. First chance was the marriage license. Second was the wedding. The last one was just now. Chances used up. Time to move on. Seven days left until the 8th. I handed in my resignation. My manager, Linda, valued me. She asked why I was leaving so suddenly; she had planned to promote me. I told her, “I’m going back home to get married.” Linda was at the wedding disaster. She looked at me, hesitant, then patted my shoulder. “If you decided to go through with it, I hope you live a good life.” I knew she misunderstood. I looked down for a moment, then smiled at her. “Not with him.” Linda paused, then seemed relieved. Even outsiders could see Carter wasn’t right for me. “Make sure you’ve thought it through this time.” I nodded. “My parents arranged it. It won’t be wrong.” “Good, good.” “Let me know when the wedding is. I’ll send a big red envelope.” I smiled. “Okay. You’re invited to the banquet.” Back home, I circled another date on the calendar. Two days left. The hourglass was slowly running out of sand. I called my only close friend in the city, Ben. He was Carter’s cousin and our matchmaker. He went to the same college as me. During school, he intentionally set Carter and me up. I didn’t blame him. But since I was leaving, I should say goodbye. Ben looked awkward when he saw me. He apologized profusely. “I’m so sorry, Quinn. I didn’t know Carter would turn into this.” “I haven’t dared to contact you. I felt so guilty.” “Hit me, scold me, I won’t say a word.” His dramatic expression made me laugh. “I know you meant well. It’s not anyone’s fault we ended up here.” Seeing I wasn’t angry, Ben said, “I already yelled at Carter. He said you forgave him and agreed to postpone the wedding.” “Is the date set?” I took a sip of coffee. “Yeah.” “The 8th.” “Isn’t that the day after tomorrow?” “Why didn’t Carter tell me?” I exhaled. “Not with him.” Ben’s eyes went wide. “You’re marrying someone else? Does Carter know?” “The person he always wanted to marry was Bella, not me.” 6 Ben realized I was truly moving on. He downed his drink. “It’s Carter’s loss.” These past few years, I gave up too much for Carter. A top-tier university grad working a dead-end job, living in a strange city alone, cutting off my parents. If Carter left me, I had nothing here. We chatted for a long time until his phone rang. It was Carter. “Bro, I want you to meet Bella. Come to Modi Café.” He put the phone down. Our eyes met. Carter walked in, holding hands with Bella. He panicked when he saw me and let go. But Bella grabbed his arm again, looking surprised. “Quinn! You’re here too? You’re with Carter’s cousin… are you tattling on us?” “My burn was serious, that’s why Carter left you to take me to the hospital. You know Carter is kindhearted. You should understand him best.” Carter chimed in. “Quinn, what’s going on? Didn’t I say we’d redo the wedding? Now you’re complaining to my cousin?” “Don’t forget, he and I are family. You’re just an outsider right now.” Hearing their attitude, Ben seemed to understand why I was marrying someone else. He snapped at Carter. “Carter, shut up!” Carter wouldn’t stop. “I don’t get it. You used to be so understanding. Why are you so petty and jealous now?” … I met Carter for the first time in Ben’s rental apartment. It was Winter Solstice. Ben made us wrap dumplings. I was clumsy, but Carter was good at it. I asked him to teach me. He held my hand, guiding me. Ben came back with vinegar and teased, “You two look like an old married couple.” I let go, blushing. Carter was too shy to look at me. Back then, I never imagined that a moment of flutter would cost me five years, only for us to drift apart. I watched Carter introduce Bella to Ben. Ben asked, “What do you mean by introducing her?” “Bella is my friend.” “Carter, I don’t know what you’re thinking, but I know how men think. Bringing another woman to meet me sends a clear message. I hope you’ve thought about the consequences.” Bella twisted her fingers awkwardly. “I don’t have the status to know your brother. I overstepped.” “Carter, I should leave. You, your cousin, and Quinn should talk.” Her eyes were red, tears falling. She looked so wronged. Carter grabbed her hand without hesitation. “Why should you go? I brought you here. If anyone should leave, it’s the petty snitch.” Since he named me, I said goodbye to Ben and walked away. Ben tried to stop me, but Carter blocked him. “Bro, why chase her? She was wrong to tattle. Let her reflect on it. Otherwise, I’ll postpone the wedding again.” Ben stomped his foot, frustrated. “Carter, keep hurting her. When you really lose Quinn, don’t come crying to me.” “When she marries someone else, you’ll have nowhere to cry.” Carter didn’t care. “She loves me to death. She’s desperate for me to marry her. She’d never marry anyone else.” “Bro, stop overreacting.” “Bella is treating us to dinner. You have to come.” Bella suddenly called out to me. “Quinn, you come too.”

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Five years ago, due to a “mistake” in my hypnosis session, Julian’s first love, Vivienne, lost all her memories. I became the villain. Every day, I had to endure malicious hypnosis sessions conducted by the therapists Julian hired. “If it weren’t for you, how would Viv lose her memory? How would she forget me? How would she leave me and run off to Europe?!” I was tortured until I was barely human, my spirit shattered. I knelt and begged him to stop. But he just grabbed my neck, screaming until his voice broke. “This is what you owe me! What you owe Viv! You tore us apart! You have no right to beg for mercy!” My heart finally died. I hypnotized myself, erasing everything related to Julian. Later, on my wedding day to another man, Julian jumped from the 18th floor right in front of me. 1 Even when I regained consciousness, my body wouldn’t stop trembling. Meeting Julian’s dark, abyssal gaze, I suppressed the stabbing pain in my brain and rasped out: “Just kill me.” His eyes flickered slightly. Then, he pinched his cigarette, his face twisting into a mocking sneer. “Want to die? You think you deserve that release? You haven’t finished atoning for your sins.” I looked at him calmly, my eyes like dead water. Suddenly, he snapped. He lunged forward, strangling me. His eyes were filled with rage. “What right do you have to die?! You made me and Viv separate! You made her lose her memory and forget me! This is your karma!” I smiled bitterly, a dense, prickling pain spreading through my chest. Tears rolled down from the corners of my eyes into my hair. Yes. This is all my karma. Five years ago, Vivienne was almost assaulted. She had nightmares every night. My boyfriend, Julian, suggested I hypnotize her to make her forget that night. I hesitated. There are always uncontrollable risks. But Julian hugged me and begged. “Zoey, after this, I’ll cut ties with Viv, okay? I just see her as a sister. When we get married, she’ll be your sister too.” I couldn’t refuse him. I agreed. Everything went smoothly. But when Vivienne woke up, she had forgotten everyone. She even screamed and dodged when Julian tried to hug her, then secretly fled the country. Julian blamed it all on me. “You did it on purpose, didn’t you? You knew I only saw her as a sister! Why did you tamper with her mind and wipe her memory? How could you be so vicious?” I tried to explain, but he wouldn’t listen. “Stop lying! I promised I would marry you! Why did you do this to Viv? She’s innocent! Don’t you have any empathy?” The final straw was when he failed to bring Vivienne back and learned she had gotten married overseas. He went mad. He imprisoned me, got my medical license revoked, and destroyed my career. Every day, he brought different hypnotists to perform varying degrees of hypnosis on me. For five whole years. I couldn’t distinguish reality from dreams. I was nearly driven insane. My thoughts snapped back as Julian suddenly threw me aside. “Zoey, admit it! You thought if you erased Viv’s memory and drove her away, I’d fall in love with you?” “Dream on! Never! I will never love a vicious, manipulative woman like you! Looking at you makes me sick!” I pulled at the corners of my pale lips. My heart was already blurred with pain. Julian, I regret it. I shouldn’t have loved you. I stared blankly at the ceiling, muttering to myself. “I admit it.” Julian froze, looking at me with dark eyes. I didn’t care. I repeated it wearily. “I admit it. I hurt Vivienne. I plead guilty.” “Julian, can you kill me now?” 2 Bang! The door slammed shut. Julian left without a word. Only when the room was completely silent did I give in to the splitting headache, curling up and clutching my head. For so many years. Living hasn’t been any better than dying. In the middle of the night, I developed a high fever. When I woke up, I was in the hospital. Julian was sitting by my bed. I don’t know how long he’d been there. There were faint shadows under his eyes. “Why didn’t you say anything?” I was confused. He wasn’t angry. His voice was hoarse. “Why didn’t you tell me you had a fever? Do you want to die that badly? Zoey, you haven’t finished paying for your sins. What right do you have to die?” I stared blankly into his eyes. I saw a flash of concern. Before that incident, he used to care about me too. Because of my job, I often had to work late or travel. Sometimes I had to rush to patients’ homes in the middle of the night. He hated seeing me lose sleep. “Why don’t you quit, Zoey? I can support you. We’ll be married soon. You don’t have to work this hard. It hurts me to see you like this.” I refused. So he started accompanying me on house calls, staying up late with me, learning to make soup. “If I’m with you, you’ll feel better. If you’re working hard, I shouldn’t be sleeping peacefully.” “Remember, no matter how late you work, I’ll be home waiting for you. You’re not alone.” Once, I had a fever, but a patient was in critical condition. I rushed out without taking medicine or telling Julian. After stabilizing the patient, I fainted on the way home. Julian spent the whole night searching for me, step by step, until he found me and saved my life. When I woke up, he cried. “Zoey! Do you know how scared I was? I was terrified I wouldn’t find you. Are you stupid? You don’t care about your life for others? What would I do if something happened to you?” I had never felt two hearts could be so close. I thought we would love each other forever. Even our skeptical friends had to admit he really loved me. But I forgot. Hearts change. By the time I realized it, I was already sinking into the mud. Thinking of this, I looked out the window, my voice calm. “It would be better if I died. Why didn’t you just let the fever take me?” That year, when I fainted on the road. I wish you hadn’t found me. I wish I had died that day. Anything is better than this living hell. Julian’s face instantly darkened. His voice was cold. “Zoey! I told you! You don’t deserve to die! You haven’t paid your debt! Why should you die? I want you to live and suffer! I want you to regret everything you did to Viv!” My expression didn’t change. I even smiled. “Yeah. Whatever.” 3 Julian was acting weird. During my hospital stay, he watched me constantly. Probably afraid I’d commit suicide before I could finish “atoning.” It doesn’t matter anymore. On the day I was discharged, Julian came to pick me up. He was in a great mood, smiling the whole way. But the car wasn’t heading to the villa. We arrived at the airport. When I saw Vivienne throw herself into Julian’s arms, I finally understood. “Julian! I missed you so much! After all these years, I finally remembered you. I was so scared you wouldn’t want me anymore. I didn’t mean to leave you and get married five years ago, I just forgot everything…” Julian held Vivienne, soothing her gently. If this were the past, seeing this would have suffocated me with pain. But not anymore. Vivienne cried for a long time before calming down. Then she saw me getting into the car. Her face went pale instantly. She stumbled back, tears welling up in her eyes. But where Julian couldn’t see, she flashed me a malicious smile. “Julian, why is she here? I don’t want to see her! She made me lose my memory and separated us for so long. I don’t want to see her! I’m really scared.” Julian’s face went cold immediately. His eyes were full of disgust as he looked at me. “Zoey! This is all your fault! And you still haven’t apologized to Viv? You unrepentant witch!” With that, he threw me and my luggage out of the car. He got in with Vivienne and drove off. Before leaving, he dropped a cold command. “Walk back home before dark and kneel at the gate! Kneel until Viv is happy and satisfied! You should have thought about the consequences when you hurt her!” I pretended not to hear. I left my luggage and ignored the stares of passersby. With a pale face, I walked aimlessly, step by step. Until it was completely dark. My phone in my pocket kept ringing. I checked it. It was calls and messages from Julian. [Zoey! It’s late, why aren’t you back yet? Do you expect me to pick you up? You wish!] [Are you playing hard to get? Or are you doing this on purpose because Viv is back? You’re disgusting. Do you think I care?] I walked to the riverbank and sat down carefully, dipping my blistered feet into the water. The burning pain subsided instantly. I didn’t plan to reply. I sat there until late at night. Under a familiar tree, I dug up an old pocket watch. Julian gave it to me. I once joked, “If you ever betray me, I’ll use this watch to hypnotize myself and forget you forever!” What did he say back then? “Zoey, that day will never come.” But that day has come, hasn’t it? Fireflies began to light up around me, flying one by one. Memories flooded back. I loved fireflies, but they were hard to catch. When Julian found out, he secretly spent a week catching them, staying out all night. I didn’t know why, so I had a huge fight with him. He didn’t get angry. He took me to a hot spring resort he bought. We waited until late at night, and countless fireflies lit up around us. I saw the dark circles under his eyes. My eyes reddened, and I threw myself into his arms. “Zoey, you like fireflies, right? It’s warm here by the hot spring, they can survive even in autumn. Do you like it? Don’t be mad, okay? I didn’t stay out on purpose.” That year, I caught a firefly. I thought I kept the summer. But I forgot. That day was already the start of autumn. “Zoey.” 4 “What are you doing here in the middle of the night instead of crawling back home? Looking for death?” Julian’s voice suddenly sounded behind me. I stiffened. I turned around, but didn’t see the gentle gaze from the past. A wave of disappointment hit my heart. Then I laughed at myself. He hasn’t been him for a long time. Right? I should have known. “Zoey! Did I give you permission to die? Didn’t I tell you to kneel at the gate! What are you doing now! If you wanted to die, why didn’t you jump earlier!” “Are you just waiting for me to find you? Are you trying to compete with Viv now that she’s back? Is it fun for you? Aren’t you tired? Are you that cheap?” Julian marched forward and yanked me up. He didn’t speak again the whole way back. I watched the fireflies receding outside the car window. The last shred of affection in my heart disappeared completely. Julian. I want to forget the past. I don’t want you anymore. At the villa, I was forced to kneel at the gate. My knees hit the ground hard. The sound was so loud even Julian flinched for a second. “Zoey, stay here on your knees! Get up when Viv is in a good mood and forgives you.” “I’m warning you, don’t even think about bullying Viv again! You owe her this!” I nodded obediently. Ignoring the momentary stun in his eyes. Until Vivienne ran to the door, smiling and kissing Julian on the lips. He finally snapped out of it and patted her head fondly. I had seen this scene before. Back when I first sensed something was wrong, I caught them kissing in a bar. Julian didn’t care. Even when I made a scene, he looked impatient. “We lost a game, it was just a dare! We didn’t sleep together, stop making a big deal out of it! Besides, I just see Viv as a sister! Are you crazy?” Until my birthday. Friends pressured me to drink a few too many. In a daze, I saw them kissing passionately. Vivienne confessed with red eyes. “Julian, I really like you. Just let me stay by your side, I don’t ask for much. Don’t reject me, please?” Julian was silent for a moment, then hugged her back. How much it hurt then. Is how little it matters now. He loved her. I knew that long ago. Late at night, the lights on the second floor finally went out. Shivering, I pulled the old pocket watch from my chest. It was the perfunctory birthday gift Julian gave me that day. Now it was useful. Tick, tock, tick, tock. The watch swung before my eyes. My vision began to blur. Just as I was about to fall asleep, a shocked voice came from not far away. “Zoey! What are you doing?” What am I doing? I closed my eyes wearily and muttered to myself. “Forget you. Forget Julian.” “In every life, I never want to remember Julian again.” The next second, I fell into complete darkness.

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