Category: English

Cresthaven’s infamous ‘Reaper’, Jim McAvoy, had one weakness—Nina Reed. I was his light, his redemption. For me, he traded bloodstained clothes for tailored suits, dismantled his empire, became a philanthropist. “Purifying myself for you is a pleasure,” he’d say. I believed him. Defied my family, married him. For five years, he worshipped me—the feared crime lord cooked for me, knelt to wash my feet, revered my parents. When my father was accused of manslaughter, Jim hired top lawyers. But at trial, the key witness vanished. Father was convicted. As the sentence was read, Jim stood and applauded. I found the witness. She slapped me: “Your husband threatened my parents! I had no choice!” Jim appeared behind me, calm: “Sylvie’s brother is dead. Someone had to pay. Your father’s sentence is light—let it go.” 1. “Your father is only going to prison for a few years. Let’s just leave it at that.” I never thought I would hear those words from Jim McAvoy’s lips. Just last night, he’d held me, murmuring reassurances that justice would prevail. Now, he was the one who had sent my father to prison. I stumbled, whirling around to grab the collar of his shirt. When I spoke, my voice was a raw, broken rasp. “Why? Jim, why would you do this?” He pried my fingers from his shirt, his grip firm but his eyes empty of emotion. “I told you. Your father killed a man. He has to pay for it.” “But you know it was self-defense! If he hadn’t fought back, the one who died would have been…” “That’s not important, Nina. I promised Sylvie I would protect her. Her life can’t have a single stain on it.” I stared up at his handsome, unconcerned face. “So you’re saying my father’s life… isn’t important?” My voice cracked. “You say Sylvie’s life can’t be stained, but what about me? What about my father? How are we supposed to wash away the stain on us?” Jim’s brow furrowed. “You don’t need to. You’re my wife. Who would dare say a word against you? When your father gets out, if he wants, I’ll send him and your mother to live out their days abroad.” A bitter laugh escaped me, followed by a sudden torrent of tears. “So, for the rest of our lives, we’re just supposed to depend on you, live according to your arrangements?” A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. “Nina, you need to learn to be sensible.” “This case is closed.” Sensible? I wrenched my hand from his, my heart filled with scorn. “And if I’m not?” His gaze darkened, becoming a bottomless, black pit. “You know that without a witness, you can appeal a hundred times and the result will be the same.” He leaned in, his lips close to my ear, but his eyes drifted to a point behind me. “And Nina… you wouldn’t want anyone else to die because of you, would you?” My pupils dilated. I spun around. The witness girl stood there, her face ashen, her lower lip bitten raw. I knew. After today, she would never testify for my father again. “You’re a monster, Jim.” All my love curdled into a cold lump of disappointment in my chest. My shoulders slumped, and I dragged my heavy body away. At the end of the courthouse alley, Sylvie Threlfall was waiting, wrapped in Jim’s overcoat. When she saw me, her eyes were like poison-tipped daggers. “You’re just going to leave?” she sneered. “Shouldn’t the murderer’s daughter be at my brother’s memorial, begging for forgiveness on her knees?” I smirked. “Murderer? If my father hadn’t been there, your brother would be a rapist. And you… you’re nothing but a homewrecking…” Before I could finish, a hand clamped over my mouth from behind. It was Jim. “Nina, Sylvie is right,” he said, his voice cold. “Someone from your family needs to beg for forgiveness. If it’s not you, it’ll have to be your mother.” I turned my head to look at him, trying to understand how the man who once swore he loved me could become so hideous. The year I met Jim, I was a college student teaching dance part-time. One night, he was cornered in an alley by his enemies, a lone figure against twenty men. Anyone else would have run or died. But Jim McAvoy wasn’t anyone else. He’d earned his title as Cresthaven’s Reaper with his own two hands. He took them all down. When he emerged from the alley, bleeding from a dozen wounds, he simply leaned against a lamppost and lit a cigarette. As he looked up, the warm, yellow light from a second-story window across the street spilled onto the pavement. In that frame of light, a girl was dancing. That girl was me. That, Jim had said, was how I danced my way into his heart and became his eternal guiding light. He said I looked like a fairy, an otherworldly sprite. When he first pursued me, I was terrified. I gave him a thousand reasons to leave me alone. I told him I only liked gentle, refined men, and he was too coarse. So he hired a private tutor, the same one who trained flight attendants, to teach him etiquette. I told him I hated violence and wanted a quiet life. So he dissolved his criminal network, became a legitimate businessman, and dedicated himself to charity. Everyone in Cresthaven said he was madly in love with me. That anything involving Nina Reed was the one thing that could make the Reaper bare his fangs again. And now this man, for another woman, had turned my father into a murderer and was forcing me to kneel before a predator’s memory. The car pulled up to the funeral home. A bodyguard dragged me out and threw me inside. When Sylvie’s family saw me, they swarmed, their faces contorted with rage. Jim only frowned slightly. Sylvie saw it and raised an eyebrow at him. “Her father killed my brother. It’s only fair my family gets to let off some steam. Surely Mr. McAvoy won’t mind?” Jim said nothing. He didn’t move. And so I was swallowed by Sylvie’s relatives. They slapped my face, kicked my stomach, tore at my clothes, and yanked my hair. One man’s grimy hands roamed over my body, a vile, invasive touch. I couldn’t bear it. I screamed Jim’s name. “Jim, no matter what, I am still your wife!” He frowned again, but before he could speak, Sylvie cut in smoothly. “Alright, that’s enough. Jim brought her here today to repent to my brother. Let’s show him some respect.” The crowd parted, revealing me in my battered, disheveled state. Sylvie’s eyes glinted with mockery as she pointed to her brother’s open casket. “Nina Reed. I want you to kneel before my brother and admit that you are the daughter of a murderer. And then, I want you to apologize.” I clutched my torn clothes, my voice ice. “In your dreams. I will never admit my father is a murderer.” The words had barely left my mouth when Jim’s tall frame appeared beside me. “Do as she says. Otherwise, I’ll have to call your mother.” My nails dug into my palms. I looked up at him, my eyes red-rimmed. “Jim, do you really have to be so cruel?” He looked down at me, and his next words sent a chill through my entire body. “They’re just words, Nina. It’s not that serious. Sylvie wants to hear them, so you’ll say them for her.” “If you insist on being this stubborn, I’ll have to use… other methods to train you. And you know I have a thousand ways, ten thousand ways, to make you obey.” Yes. How could I forget? He was the Reaper. Even if I refused, he had a million ways to break me. Psychological, physical. It would be one thing if he used them on me. But if he used them on my mother… on my father… I couldn’t bear the thought. I closed my eyes, helpless. After a long, agonizing struggle, I unclenched my bleeding fists and surrendered. “Fine. I’ll say it.” I crawled on my hands and knees to the casket, each word a sob. “I… am the daughter of a murderer. I am here to apologize to Mr. Brandon Threlfall. I am so sorry.” Sylvie, however, was not satisfied. “Miss Reed, don’t you know a proper apology requires a bow to show sincerity? And your voice is far too quiet.” I trembled, humiliation forcing me to grit my teeth. As if punishing myself, I raised my head and slammed my forehead to the ground. “I AM THE DAUGHTER OF A MURDERER. I AM HERE TO APOLOGIZE TO MR. BRANDON THRELFALL. I AM SO SORRY!” Blood bloomed on my forehead, streaming down my face. Jim’s brow twitched almost imperceptibly. I lifted my head and stared straight at Sylvie. “Is that enough?” My reckless abandon seemed to startle her family. They tugged at her sleeve. Sylvie just lifted her chin, her expression arrogant. “Barely.” I scrambled to my feet, unsteady. Jim’s hand shot out to support me, but I slapped it away. “Don’t touch me,” I spat. “You disgust me.” His face darkened with sudden rage. He grabbed my wrist, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “What did you say? Say it again. I dare you.” I met his gaze, my voice clear and deliberate, each word a shard of ice. “I. Said. You. Disgust. Me.” Jim looked as if he’d been struck. He abruptly let go of my wrist. This time, I didn’t look back. I strode out of that funeral home and didn’t stop. I never imagined they would film what happened in that funeral home. Overnight, the video went viral. Tabloid vultures spun their own narratives, claiming my father had knowingly broken the law and was trying to hide behind a self-defense claim. Others whispered that my father and the so-called victim had some illicit relationship—why else would his own daughter be so willing to confess? The shame and anger made my mother collapse. But even if we covered our ears and closed our eyes, we couldn’t escape the deluge of insults. “If your father sees this, how heartbroken will he be?” she worried, her face etched with sorrow after she woke. I couldn’t speak. I didn’t know how to explain myself. The next day, my father found out anyway. He tried to kill himself in prison. When we got the news, my mother and I raced to the hospital. But when we arrived, the ambulance carrying my father was parked outside, barred from entering. Blood was still seeping from the wound on his neck. I was frantic. “Why isn’t he being taken inside?” I demanded. The paramedic looked at me, his face a mask of helpless frustration. “I heard Mr. McAvoy’s… girlfriend’s cat was in an accident. It’s being treated in the ER. Mr. McAvoy gave the order: until the cat is stable, no other critical patients are to be admitted.” It felt like a fever dream, so absurd, so twisted. “This is a hospital, not a veterinary clinic! How can you let them do this?” No one answered me. Even the prison guard accompanying us sighed. “You’re the family. Maybe you should try another hospital?” The doctor, who was still applying pressure to my father’s wound, shook his head. “The nearest one is ten minutes away. We don’t have that kind of time.” My breath caught. I turned to get out of the ambulance. “I’ll go. I’ll beg Jim to let my father in.” But as I turned, my father’s hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. He gripped it tightly, and the heart monitor beside him began to beep erratically. I scrambled back to his side. “Dad, don’t get agitated. I’ll save you, I promise. Please, just hold on.” My father’s eyes fluttered open. He raised a trembling hand to my cheek. His lips moved behind the oxygen mask, trying desperately to tell me something. The doctor reached over and removed the mask. “He’s not going to make it. If you have anything to say, say it now.” My ears started ringing. The doctor and the guard stepped out of the ambulance, leaving us alone. My mother, her face deathly pale, leaned in close, her voice choked with grief. “What is it, dear? I’m listening.” My father’s voice was faint, as if coming from a great distance, yet every word was crystal clear. “Don’t be sad. And don’t… don’t beg him. This was my choice. I found my own peace.” “Nina, I don’t want you to appeal. I just want you and your mother to be safe. Nothing is more important than the two of you.” “My love,” he said to my mother, “make that call. Take Nina and leave Cresthaven.” “Yes, yes, I will,” my mother sobbed, clutching his hand. “Good. Then I can… I can rest…” A long, piercing beep filled the air. My father’s hand went limp in hers. I snatched it back, holding on for dear life, as if my grip alone could keep him from leaving me. The silence in the ambulance was suffocating. A tidal wave of grief crashed over my mother and me, drowning us completely. After what felt like an eternity, my mother let out a shuddering breath. She took my hand, her trembling voice laced with a newfound strength. “Nina. Let’s take your father home.” The kind ambulance driver took us to a crematorium. After I signed the necessary papers, my mother and I oversaw my father’s cremation. When we returned home with the urn, my mother handed me a phone number. “Nina. This is the number for your grandfather’s old commander. You make the call.” I held the slip of paper, the rage in my heart impossible to suppress. My father’s last words… it was clear he had been threatened, coerced into taking his own life. Was I really supposed to just run away? But one look at my mother’s frail shoulders and swollen, red eyes, and I dialed the number. I couldn’t let her be endangered because of me. No matter how much I wanted to fight, I had to get her to safety first. The call was answered immediately by a stern, authoritative voice. After a brief explanation, he told me he would send someone to pick us up the next day. I hung up and sat with my mother before my father’s makeshift memorial all night. At dawn, we took his ashes to choose a burial plot. We had intended to bury him next to my grandmother. But in a cruel twist of fate, the plot next to hers was already occupied. By Brandon Threlfall.

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It was for Julie’s birthday. I was hiding in the supply closet of her office, a surprise cake balanced on my knees, waiting to jump out. Then I heard his voice, thin and fragile, just outside the door. Nolan. Her childhood friend, the one who was always sick. “So you’re really with him? With Leo?” he asked, his voice laced with a tremor of disbelief. Julie’s reply was a shard of ice. “It’s just an act, Nolan.” A pause. Then she delivered the killing blow. “He has to be. He’s Rh-negative, just like you.” I finally remembered. She’d asked me out right after the company health screening, the one where they’d tested our blood. 1 “So… you’re only with him for my sake?” Nolan’s voice cracked, full of a dawning, vulnerable hope. “Of course,” Julie said softly. The rustle of expensive fabric filled the silence. Through the thin slat of the closet door, I saw them embrace. A flush of color crept into Nolan’s pale, almost translucent face. At the same time, the warmth in my own chest turned cold, then froze solid. I looked down at the cake in my hands. The cheerful red heart piped onto the frosting seemed to mock me, a bloody, sarcastic smear. “Okay,” Julie murmured, pulling away. “I should get you back.” “Are you worried Leo will see me here?” Nolan asked, a hint of a pout in his tone. Julie hesitated for a fraction of a second. “No. Your condition just stabilized. You can’t be away from the hospital for too long.” “Alright,” he relented, though his eyes lingered on her, full of a possessive longing. He opened the door and left. Julie followed a moment later. The office plunged back into a dead, suffocating silence. My limbs felt like lead as I pushed the closet door open and stumbled back to my own desk in the open-plan area. My colleague, Sarah, noticed the cake. “Hey, you never gave it to the boss?” I couldn’t meet her eyes. “She wasn’t in.” A knot of acid twisted in my gut, so sharp it made me double over. I collapsed into my chair, resting my forehead on the cool surface of the desk, waiting for the wave of pain to recede. When it finally did, I wiped a sheen of cold sweat from my brow and opened a new document. I started typing my resignation letter. I’d only gotten a few words down when she returned. Her eyes landed on the cake instantly. They lit up, a brilliant, false warmth I now saw for what it was. “Is that for me?” she asked, her voice bright and eager. Sarah, ever helpful, chimed in before I could speak. “It is, Ms. Vance! Leo was going to surprise you in your office…” Panic flickered across Julie’s face, a tiny, almost imperceptible crack in her perfect mask. “Leo? You were in my office?” I shot Sarah a look, silencing her before she could say more. “Yeah,” I said, my voice flat. “But you were out.” She visibly relaxed, a soft sigh escaping her lips. “Right. I was just seeing a client out.” A client. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I might have even believed her. A bitter smile formed on my lips. She was so good at this. It clearly wasn’t her first time lying. It all made sense now. Miracles don’t just happen. A woman like Julie Vance—wealthy, beautiful, the heir to the Vance Corporation—would never fall for a nobody like me. Not for who I was, anyway. Ignoring my silence, she reached for the cake. “Thank you, honey. I’m starving.” I snatched it away before her fingers could touch it, stood up, and dumped the whole thing into the trash can by my desk. “It’s spoiled,” I said. “Can’t be eaten.” She stared, bewildered. “But it looked perfectly fine.” “Some things look fine on the outside,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet, “but they’re completely rotten to the core.” That’s when she finally realized something was wrong. She leaned in closer, her brow furrowed in a flawless imitation of concern. “Leo, what’s going on today? Is something on your mind?” Her gaze dropped to my computer screen. Her voice shot up, sharp with alarm. “Why are you writing a resignation letter?” “I’m not feeling well. I don’t want to work here anymore.” My pale face and the lingering sweat on my brow were perfect evidence. Her concern sharpened, becoming urgent. “What? What’s wrong? Why are you suddenly unwell?” The worry in her eyes was so convincing it almost made me doubt what I’d heard. This was the Julie I thought I knew. The woman who would panic more than I did anytime I got so much as a paper cut. The woman whose gentleness had made me fall for her. But now I knew. She wasn’t worried about me. She was worried about her walking, talking blood bank. A humorless laugh escaped my lips. “It’s nothing. I’ve just always been a bit fragile.” Julie’s brow tightened. “If it’s not serious, then don’t talk about resigning. I won’t approve it.” “I’ve already decided. You’re my boss, not my owner. You can’t legally force me to stay.” “You…” She was getting angry now. “I’m your girlfriend, for God’s sake! Can’t you at least discuss major life decisions with me?” I looked at her, my eyes cold. “Then let’s fix that. We’re through. As of now, we are nothing to each other.” “Why?” she demanded, her voice cracking with disbelief. “What did I do wrong?” Heads were starting to turn in the office. The curious gazes of our colleagues felt like physical pressure. Julie took a deep, steadying breath and grabbed my hand. “Let’s talk about this outside.” “I have nothing to say to you.” I tried to pull my hand away, but her grip was like steel. “Then at least give me a reason!” Her eyes were red-rimmed, glistening with tears. She looked for all the world like a woman who couldn’t bear to lose me. But I knew better. She couldn’t bear to lose my blood. I laughed, a harsh, grating sound. “The reason is you—” My sentence was cut short by the sharp ring of her phone. She glanced at the screen, and her grip on my hand loosened as she stepped away to answer it. I couldn’t hear what the person on the other end was saying, but I saw the color drain from her face. “…Okay, okay, I’m on my way,” she said, her voice tight with panic. She ended the call and lunged for me, grabbing my arm. “Leo, you have to come with me. Now.” Her face was a mask of sheer terror. Her nails dug into my bicep, sharp and painful. “What are you doing? Let go of me!” She ignored me, dragging me toward the elevator. The icy wind that hit us as we exited the building lobby carried a terrible premonition. I dug my heels in, yanking my arm from her grasp. “Let go! What the hell is going on?” Julie grabbed me again. “Get in the car. I’ll explain on the way.” I shook my head, resolute. “Not until you tell me what this is about.” She wasn’t listening. She was all brute force now, half-pulling, half-shoving me toward a black Range Rover idling at the curb. “Leo, now is not the time to be stubborn!” With a final, desperate shove, she pushed me into the back seat. She slid in after me and barked at the driver, “Go!” The car lurched forward into traffic. Panic clawed at my throat. “Where are you taking me?” She finally looked at me, her eyes stripped of all pretense. “It’s Nolan,” she said, her voice flat and cold. “He was in a car accident. He’s losing a lot of blood. You have the same blood type as him…” Her words hung in the air, and in that instant, I knew. I knew exactly what she intended to do. Nolan. Rh-negative. He already had a blood disorder, and now a car crash on top of it. He was in desperate need of a transfusion. On any other day, I might have done it. But today? After what I’d heard? This blood was the one thing she wanted from me. And I would rather die than give it to her. “Julie, you’ve gone too far!” I yelled, my voice raw. “Blood donation has to be voluntary! This is kidnapping! It’s assault!” I had never raised my voice to her before. My violent reaction seemed to startle her; a flicker of conflict crossed her face. Then, her phone rang again. She put it on speaker. Nolan’s voice, faint and reedy, filled the car. “Julie… where are you? I don’t think… I’m going to make it…” The last shred of hesitation in Julie’s eyes vanished. “Nolan, just hold on. I’m almost there. I have Leo with me. He has your blood type. He can save you.” “Really?” Nolan whispered. “Is… is he willing?” “I’M NOT!” I roared, lunging for the phone. Julie snatched it away, her eyes boring into me with a chilling coldness that terrified me. “It doesn’t matter if he’s willing or not.” I snapped. I swung my hand and slapped her, hard, across the face. “His life matters, but mine doesn’t? Is that it?” She clutched her cheek, her eyes blazing with fury. “It’s just a little blood, Leo! It’s not going to kill you. Can you stop being so selfish for one second?” “You’re insane! There are sick people all over the world! Why don’t you donate all your money and your own goddamn organs if you’re so generous?” “You can’t talk to her like that,” Nolan’s weak voice piped up from the phone. “Julie’s just trying to help me. I know this is an inconvenience for you… I’ll have her compensate you. Just name your price.” The implication was clear: I was just a low-life shaking them down for money. The audacity of it, the sheer, slimy condescension, was breathtaking. “You son of a bitch!” I screamed. “Using her to play the big shot with someone else’s life! You’re both disgusting.” “Leo!” Julie was truly furious now. Fearing what else I might say, she quickly soothed Nolan and hung up the phone. I glared at her, my whole body trembling with rage. “This was always the plan, wasn’t it? Keep me around as his personal blood bag? Well, you can forget it. In your dreams!” She shot me a final, dismissive glance. “You don’t have a choice in the matter. But don’t worry,” she added, as if it were a kindness. “I’ll hire a private nutritionist for you. We’ll make sure your levels stay up.” 2 The car screeched to a halt in front of the Vance Family Private Hospital. The doors were pulled open before I could even react. Men in white coats—orderlies, not doctors—pinned me down and dragged me into the sterile, cold building. Julie was right. It wasn’t up to me. No one listened to my shouts for help. They forced me onto a gurney in a small, stark room. I watched in helpless fury as they roughly shoved my sleeve up and swabbed my arm. Then, the needle. I watched my own life, dark red, draining away through a plastic tube. A dull, aching numbness spread through my arm. An exhaustion so profound it felt like it was dissolving my bones began to creep through me. Through it all, Julie stood by the glass partition, her eyes fixed on the room next door where Nolan lay. She didn’t even blink. My fingertips went numb. The world began to tilt, black spots dancing in my vision. My voice was a dry, rasping whisper. “Julie… I’m in pain. Please… make them stop.” Her gaze finally shifted to me, empty of emotion. “Just hold on a little longer, Leo. It’ll be over soon.” I tried to speak again, but no sound came out. The black spots consumed everything, and I fell into darkness. 3 I don’t know how much time passed. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. The room was empty. Sunlight streamed through the window, but it felt cold. I tried to move, but it felt like every ounce of strength had been siphoned out of me. My throat was sandpaper. “Nurse…” I croaked. “Water…” Only silence answered. Licking my cracked lips, I fought against a wave of dizziness and slowly, painstakingly, swung my legs over the side of the bed. My room was at the very end of a long, quiet corridor. Faint voices drifted from the other end of the hall, near the nurses’ station. I used the wall for support and shuffled toward the sound. It was coming from inside another room. Nolan’s room. The door was ajar. Through the gap, I could see a crowd: doctors, nurses, and Julie, all gathered around his bed. “The wound is healing exceptionally well, Mr. Hayes,” a doctor was saying cheerfully. “You’re a lucky man. Once you’ve fully recovered, we can proceed with the bone marrow transplant.” “Thank you, Doctor. It’s all thanks to you. And Julie… you’ve done so much for me,” Nolan said, his voice much stronger now. Julie smiled, a warm, genuine smile I hadn’t seen directed at me in a long time. “Of course. As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters.” “How’s Leo, by the way?” Nolan asked. “Oh, he’s strong. He’ll bounce back with a few good meals,” Julie said with an airy wave of her hand. “I mean, he’s not mad at me, is he? You only did all this because of me.” Julie paused. “It doesn’t matter if he is. Saving a life is the most noble thing a person can do. He’ll understand that one day.” No, I won’t, I screamed in my head. I’m not a saint. I’m not some benevolent martyr. I just want to live. And for anyone who threatens my life, revenge is the only language I speak. I closed my eyes, forcing down the inferno of rage building inside me. While they were all preoccupied, I slipped away. I crept past the nurses’ station, down the elevator, and out the front doors of the hospital. My first stop was the police station.

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1 The day I requested transfer to desk duty, the precinct practically sighed in relief. Approval was unanimous—almost celebratory. Only Ivy Hayes objected. The new M.E., my boyfriend’s childhood friend, and self-proclaimed “Corpse Whisperer.” She burst into my office, red-eyed, clutching my sleeve. “Dr. Kearns, please stay. Keep fighting for the victims!” I shook her off and left without a word. In my last life, she was the real deal—a medium who recited autopsy reports after one glance. Families worshipped her. Me? The ghoul who desecrated the dead. I worked tirelessly, but she always unveiled the truth first. One family, mad with grief, abducted me. They did to me what they believed I’d done to their son. Dismembered. Scattered. Then I woke up—back to the day she first declared herself the Corpse Whisperer. … “Hey, Luke, the M.E. report’s in,” a voice cut through the haze. I snapped my head up, my eyes struggling to focus on the familiar faces around me. “Dr. Kearns, how many pages this time?” one of the detectives quipped, his tone dripping with a casual sort of contempt. But I wasn’t listening. I shot up from my chair, my eyes wide with disbelief. The sterile white tiles, the glint of stainless steel, the faint, cloying scent of antiseptic—I was back in the morgue. I had been reborn. “Clara? You okay?” a colleague asked, startled by my sudden movement. I ignored him. I shoved the door open and scrambled to my desk, snatching the freshly printed report. The pages were dense with my own handwriting, a testament to hours of careful, exhausting work. I had to get to the briefing room. I had to report my findings before she could. But just as I burst into the room, ready to speak, Ivy’s voice cut through the air, clear and confident. “Livor mortis is a deep, dark red. Bloody foam in the oral and nasal cavities. The victim was strangled. The perpetrator is approximately five-foot-seven. Time of death was between midnight and one in the morning.” I whipped my head around. Ivy stood at the doorway, her expression a mask of serene certainty. My face went pale. “How… how did you know that?” a detective asked, his voice a mixture of awe and confusion. Ivy offered a small, knowing smile. “I haven’t had the chance to mention it before,” she said softly. “I’m what you might call a Corpse Whisperer. I can hear them. The dead. They whisper their stories to me.” The world tilted on its axis, and for a moment, my vision went black. It was happening all over again, exactly as it had before. This was the day it all began. The day the legend of Ivy Hayes, the Corpse Whisperer, was born. The story spread like wildfire: she was a guide for the departed, sent to our world to give them a voice, to spare their bodies the final indignity of the scalpel. Families, already terrified by the cold reality of an autopsy, clung to her. They saw her as a savior. “What’s the point of a Chief M.E. who just cuts people up when Dr. Hayes can get the truth with a single touch?” “You have no respect for the dead. You’ll get what’s coming to you.” Their curses rained down on me, but I never believed in ghosts or magic. I am a scientist. Driven by a desperate need to prove myself, I threw my entire being into every subsequent case. I refined my techniques, I documented every microscopic fiber, I cross-referenced every last detail. But it was never enough. Each and every time, Ivy would swoop in just moments before I could present my findings, revealing the complete truth to a stunned audience. To the families, I became a monster. The butcher who violated their loved ones for sport. They hated me for it. They hated me so much they kidnapped me, carved me up, and left me for the carrion birds. My parents were destroyed. They fought, they screamed, they demanded justice. But Ivy, the celebrated Corpse Whisperer, simply told the world I’d had a tragic accident—a fall from a cliff, my body ravaged by wild animals. When my parents refused to believe her, when they demanded she be investigated, they were silenced. Ostracized and persecuted by the very families who once lauded them, they died of broken hearts. And now, here I was. Back on the day it all started. This time, I would not let it end the same way. This time, I would uncover the truth. “For real? A ‘Corpse Whisperer’? That sounds like something out of a movie,” someone muttered. “Who knows? Maybe she’s just making it up.” The detectives exchanged skeptical glances, their whispers filling the room. Just then, my boyfriend, Detective Luke Garrison, took the report from my trembling hands. He scanned the pages, then looked up at Ivy, a slow, impressed nod breaking across his face. “She’s right,” he announced to the room. “It matches Clara’s report. Word for word.” The room erupted. Gasps of shock and murmurs of amazement rippled through the crowd. The same colleagues who had been whispering doubts just seconds before now turned to me, their expressions a strange cocktail of pity and disdain. “Guess all that time you spend writing those long reports doesn’t mean much if Ivy can do it in a minute,” one of them whispered, just loud enough for me to hear. “Seriously. She nails it in a sentence, and we have to read a novel from Dr. Kearns. Gives me a headache.” Their mockery was a familiar sting, a cold poison seeping back into my veins. I forced myself to breathe. It’s just beginning. You can change it. I knew, with every fiber of my being, that Ivy wasn’t a medium. There was no magic. She had a method, a trick. She had to be getting my results beforehand. The next day, for a new case, I laid down the law. “I’m performing this autopsy alone,” I declared. “No one enters the morgue until I’m finished.” Ivy stood at the door, her face a perfect portrait of wounded innocence. “Clara… I don’t understand what I did wrong. Why are you being like this?” The others shot me accusatory looks, but I ignored them. My theory was simple: someone was leaking my reports to her. By locking the door, I was cutting off her source. Let’s see what tricks she could pull now. I sealed the autopsy suite and got to work. An hour later, I emerged with the completed report, ready to present my findings. But as I laid the papers on the briefing table, a wave of confusion washed over the room. Everyone was frowning. A cold dread began to creep up my spine. It was Ivy who broke the silence. “Dr. Kearns,” she said, her voice laced with feigned sympathy, “we’ve already been over all this. I told them everything an hour ago. Is there a reason you’re just joining us?” I stared at her, then at my colleagues. A few of them, people I’d considered friends, gave me small, apologetic nods. I was frozen. It was impossible. The door was locked. No one saw the body but me. No one touched the report but me. How? How did she know? I spent the night replaying every autopsy, every interaction, searching for a crack in her story. Then, it hit me. A detail I’d dismissed as irrelevant. Before every single case, Ivy would spend a long time in the cold storage, where the bodies were kept pre-autopsy. An idea began to form. A risky, desperate plan. That night, I swapped the body scheduled for the next day’s autopsy with a different one. Then, I installed a tiny, hidden camera in the corner of the cold storage room. Sure enough, not long after the precinct had emptied out for the night, the footage showed a shadowy figure slipping into the room. It was Ivy. She carefully examined the corpse on the gurney, taking notes, before meticulously putting everything back in its place and disappearing into the night. A triumphant smile touched my lips. The trap was set. The next morning, I announced I’d be performing the autopsy in the main observation theater, in front of everyone. No more closed doors. This time, they would hear the results directly from me, as soon as I found them. Ivy saw my setup and chuckled. “Decided to stop hiding, Dr. Kearns? I know you’re afraid of me stealing your spotlight, but you can’t fight a natural gift. Jealousy won’t change that.” I ignored her, my focus entirely on the task at hand. Once the detectives and senior officers had assembled, I began, narrating my findings as I worked. But something was terribly wrong. For every observation I made, every conclusion I drew, Ivy would speak it a fraction of a second before I could. The same words, the same details. My heart hammered against my ribs. A chill snaked its way up my spine. She had examined the wrong body. She shouldn’t know any of this. But she did. How? How? I stared at her, searching her smug face for any sign of deception, but found only a cool, confident smile. My mind was a maelstrom of confusion and panic. I faltered, my words catching in my throat. Luke’s voice cut through my haze, sharp and impatient. “Clara, what is wrong with you? Your inefficiency is embarrassing. Honestly, Ivy’s more reliable at this point.” A cold numbness spread through my chest. “I… I don’t understand,” I stammered. He cut me off. “Just stop. You’re clearly not up to this. Take a break. Ivy’s abilities are proven. She can take it from here.” The assembled crowd dispersed, leaving me standing alone in the sterile, silent theater. I was completely and utterly lost. No matter how I spun it, how I analyzed it, I couldn’t figure it out. How was Ivy Hayes doing it? From that day on, I was living in her shadow. The precinct’s faith in her grew exponentially, while I was treated like a relic, an inconvenient and obsolete part of the process. My colleagues’ eyes were filled with scorn. “Did you hear? Other precincts are asking for consultations with Ivy. She’s making a real name for the department.” “Yeah, unlike some people. ‘Chief Medical Examiner.’ What a joke. She’s an embarrassment.” I tried to fight back, to prove my worth, but every effort was effortlessly crushed by Ivy. It was all useless. Soon, her fame spread beyond the precinct walls. The families of victims started refusing autopsies. “You have a woman who can talk to the dead!” one father screamed at me in the hallway. “So why are you insisting on cutting up my son? Why are you torturing him even in death?” “You’re not a doctor, you’re a ghoul! A heartless ghoul!” a mother shrieked, her face contorted with grief and fury. It took the Chief of Police himself to calm them down. Ivy’s reputation soared. She was invited to give guest lectures at the city’s top universities. The day she left for one such lecture, a horrific new case came in. A young female student, her face mutilated beyond recognition, her head severed and grotesquely mounted on her neck with a steel rod. The brutality of the crime sent shockwaves through the city. The state command issued a direct order: solve this case, and solve it now. But we hit an immediate wall. The victim’s family flatly refused an autopsy. “Get the Corpse Whisperer!” they demanded. “Let her talk to our daughter!” With Ivy out of town, the precinct had no choice but to try and reason with them. The Chief spent hours gently, painstakingly explaining the necessity of a proper examination. Finally, they relented. He pulled me aside. “Clara,” he said, his voice low and serious. “This is your chance. I know what’s been said, but a break in this case… that would be a major victory. It would silence the critics.” I threw myself into the work, fueled by a desperate hope. I worked through the night, pushing past exhaustion, determined to reclaim a shred of my dignity. But just as I was about to present my comprehensive report to the family and the command staff, Ivy appeared. She walked to the front of the room and, without a single glance at my report, began to speak. “Time of death was approximately 3 a.m. The lacerations on the neck are irregular, with one blunt and one sharp angle at the wound corners. Tissue bridging is visible within the wound cavity, indicating it was caused by a heavy, sharp weapon, like a cleaver.” She paused, letting her words sink in. “There are multiple lacerations on her face, varying in depth. This suggests a crime of passion, an extreme hatred for the victim. The killer was likely someone she knew.” Then, she turned to the grieving parents, her voice softening with theatrical sorrow. “I am so, so sorry. If only I had gotten here sooner, we could have spared her this… and she could have rested whole.” Her words hit me like a physical blow. I stood frozen, a bone-deep chill washing over me. Every single word she had just uttered… was identical to what I had written in my report. The victim’s father snatched the papers from my hand and scanned them, his eyes darting between the page and Ivy. A moment later, his face purpled with rage. “You bitch!” he roared, pointing a trembling finger at me. “What’s the point of you? She knows everything without even looking! You just wanted to butcher my daughter for fun!” “You mutilated her!” the mother screamed, her voice cracking. “She couldn’t even have a proper burial because of you! Don’t you have a soul? Don’t you fear retribution?” “Get out of this precinct! Get out of our sight!” Like a pack of wolves, they surged forward. The father grabbed a fistful of my hair and slammed my head against the wall. A few of my colleagues rushed in to pull them off me. “Everyone, calm down,” someone pleaded. “Dr. Kearns was just trying to find the truth…” “Calm down?” the mother shrieked. “Our baby is dead and desecrated, and you want us to be calm?” Then, Ivy stepped forward, the picture of magnanimity. “Please, everyone, don’t be upset,” she said, her voice smooth as silk. “Dr. Kearns is still our city’s Chief Medical Examiner. Her professional skills are… undeniable.” She drew out the last word, her eyes flicking towards me with a look of pure, unadulterated contempt. “We simply use different methods,” she continued, turning her gaze back to the crowd. “For me, the most respectful way to honor the dead is to listen to them. To give them a voice. And I, Ivy Hayes, swear that I will do so for every single soul who needs me.” Nausea churned in my stomach. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Stop it, Ivy!” I shouted, my voice raw. “Stop this charade! What did you do? What dirty trick did you use to steal my work?” I advanced on her, my eyes locked on hers. “You claim to know everything? Fine. Tell me this: what were the residual contents of the victim’s stomach?” I had deliberately left one crucial detail out of the written report. A final, desperate gambit. Let’s see her talk her way out of this. Suddenly, Luke pushed through the crowd and stood in front of me. His face was a mask of fury. He raised his hand and slapped me, hard, across the face. The sound echoed in the silent room. “If you have no talent, then have the decency to shut up and stop embarrassing yourself!” he hissed. “Now get out.” I clutched my stinging cheek, staring at the man I thought I loved. He was a stranger. In that moment, I knew. He wasn’t just a bystander. He was in on it. He knew the truth, and he had chosen her side. A triumphant smirk played on Ivy’s lips. She spoke slowly, savoring each word. “The stomach contents,” she announced, “contained traces of cyanide. A lethal dose, enough to cause death in minutes. That was the true cause of death.” I froze, my eyes wide with horror. How? How could she know that too? The Chief’s face had turned to stone. “Clara Kearns,” he boomed, his voice shaking with rage. “Look at yourself. What have you become? You are a disgrace to this department!” I looked at the ring of accusing faces, at Luke’s cold fury, at Ivy’s victorious smile. A profound, soul-crushing cold enveloped me. It felt like being trapped in a dense fog, unable to see the truth that was right in front of me. And then, as if a switch had been flipped, a brilliant flash of light cut through the fog in my mind. It all made sense. The truth… it was so simple. So horrifyingly simple. I took a deep breath, my gaze meeting the Chief’s. My voice was steady, devoid of all emotion. “Chief,” I said, “I am requesting a transfer. I want to be reassigned to clerical work. Effective immediately. I am no longer a medical examiner.”

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I’m supposed to be an emotionally stable capybara, but I’ve been dropped into the body of a tragic wife, complete with all her baggage—every last ounce of her heartbreak. Her husband, Jack, dotes on his childhood sweetheart, Sophia. Even their son, Tim, dreams of Sophia becoming his new mother. This is great. I don’t want to do anything, anyway. So when Jack gets a call late at night and tries to sneak out, I don’t make a scene. Instead, while clutching the phantom ache in my chest, I calmly hand him his coat. 1 The sound of Jack’s voice, hushed and urgent, pulled me from sleep. He was tiptoeing out of bed, his voice a low murmur of concern for the woman on the other end of the line—his precious Sophia. He slipped on his clothes, grabbed his car keys, and made a beeline for the door. “Wait.” The sound of my voice froze him in his tracks. He turned, a flicker of annoyance crossing his handsome features. “Sophia’s alone,” he began, his tone already defensive. “The power’s out, and I—” “Put on your coat before you go,” I said, my voice flat. “It’s cold out.” His irritation morphed into stunned disbelief. He stared at me for a long moment, as if seeing a stranger. But I just turned away, listless, gently rubbing the ache in my chest that wasn’t truly mine. Seeing that I wasn’t gearing up for the usual tear-filled fight, Jack’s expression softened. He walked back to the bed and pressed a quick, dutiful kiss to my forehead. “Don’t be difficult, Erika. I’ll be back soon.” I nodded, feeling nothing but the relentless throb in my heart, which now seemed to be intensifying. The click of the front door was my cue. I dragged myself out of bed and swallowed a painkiller. It was a futile gesture, more for psychological comfort than any real relief. It’s been two months since the original Erika tried to end her life, paving the way for my arrival. This late-night drama with Jack was routine. I was too tired to be angry. For a capybara, anger is just too much trouble. Even if I am cursed with her memories and her pain. The feeling, or lack thereof, persisted the next morning. I’d woken up early to make breakfast for our son, Tim. He took one look at the oatmeal I’d prepared and wrinkled his nose in disgust, scraping the bowl’s contents directly into the trash. “Mom, I’ve told you a million times, I want pancakes for breakfast! Sophia always remembers. Why can’t you?” His disdain was written all over his face. I should have been furious. I should have felt a pang of hurt. Instead, I just picked up my own bowl and slowly ate my oatmeal. “Then you should go ask her to make you breakfast.” Tim, who had been ready to launch into a full-blown tirade, choked on his next words. My quiet suggestion, meant to be helpful, landed like a venomous dart. His face crumpled, and he burst into tears. With a furious swipe of his arm, he sent his own empty bowl and silverware crashing to the floor. “You’re a bad mom! A horrible mom!” he wailed, his voice echoing through the cavernous villa. “Why did Daddy have to marry you? I want Sophia to be my mom!” I continued to eat my oatmeal, calmly turning away from the mess. Capybaras don’t do drama. Not interfering was the best I could offer. My lack of reaction only fueled his tantrum. He swept everything within his reach off the table, the sound of shattering porcelain filling the air. Children have a cruel, innate understanding of how to inflict the deepest wounds. “No wonder Daddy likes Sophia more than you!” he screamed between sobs. I ignored him, though the phantom pain in my chest was becoming unbearable. I set down my bowl, moved to the living room couch, and turned on the morning news. It was my primary way of understanding this world; smartphones were a labyrinth of complexity I had yet to master. Two months in, and I could barely send a text message. The television was so much simpler. “What is going on in here?” 2 Jack stood in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over the wreckage in the dining room. Tim, spotting his father, immediately ran to him, a fresh wave of sobs racking his small body as he tattled on my supposed morning-of-terror. Jack, who clearly hadn’t been home all night, scooped him up and stormed over to me, his face a mask of fury. “It was just a little outburst, Erika. He’s a child. Did you have to be so cruel? What if he cries himself sick? If you can’t handle something this simple, then maybe you shouldn’t be looking after him at all.” I gave a slight nod, my eyes still fixed on the television screen. “What is that supposed to mean?” he seethed. “Don’t think playing the silent treatment is going to work. One more incident like this, and I’m asking Sophia to move in.” “Okay,” I said. Jack’s rage intensified. “Fine,” he snapped, his jaw tight. “You said it. Don’t you dare regret it.” As if afraid I’d change my mind, he immediately pulled out his phone and started dialing. While he was on the phone, a news report caught my eye. It was about a spectacular firework display at the city’s largest amusement park. “Last night at midnight,” the cheerful anchor announced, “Ashton City’s largest theme park was exclusively booked by Jack Kartalian, CEO of Kartalian Corporation. Mr. Kartalian had the park’s entire fireworks inventory set off in a single, breathtaking display to woo his sweetheart. The two were seen in a tender embrace, a truly enviable picture of romance.” The screen showed two figures silhouetted against the glittering sky. Even from the back, they looked perfect together. I noticed the coat draped over the woman’s shoulders. It was Jack’s. He turned back to me just then, the very same coat now looking glaringly out of place on him. He seemed to realize it too, fidgeting with the glasses on his nose. “Erika, listen, it’s not what you think. Last night was just—” A sharp, sudden pain lanced through my chest. I shot up from the couch. “You don’t have to explain,” I said, my voice strained. “I trust you.” I tried to keep my tone even as I turned and hurried toward the bedroom. But Jack followed, his voice insistent and grating. “Erika, what is this new game you’re playing? Sophia is like a sister to me! I did that for her as a friend. Can’t you stop listening to tabloid nonsense?” Every word he spoke was another dagger in my heart. As I reached the stairs, the pain overwhelmed me, and the world went black. I collapsed. Through the fog of my fading consciousness, I thought I heard Jack’s voice, cold and distant. “Don’t think playing the victim is going to work on me.” “Get up, Erika.” “Fine. Stay there. See how long you can keep it up.” The last thing I heard before slipping into complete darkness was the decisive click of the front door closing. He had really just left me there. A small, detached part of my mind silently condemned his callousness. I couldn’t fathom why the original Erika had ever fallen for a man like this. And yet, every time the thought of divorce surfaced, a powerful, deep-seated obsession from her memories would rise up, sealing my lips shut. When I finally woke up, the house was empty. And for some reason, a profound sense of relief washed over me. I knew this emotional rollercoaster wasn’t normal. I went online and booked an appointment with a psychiatrist, determined to figure out what was wrong with this body. “Your condition,” the doctor said, peering at me over her glasses, “presents as a severe case of Emotional Transference Syndrome. Given the unique circumstances, I’d recommend you first try to redirect your emotional focus. Find a new anchor—a hobby, a passion, anything. But a person can never be your sole pillar of support. If that fails… we may have to consider more intensive treatments, like ECT.” Her words echoed in my mind all the way home. I pushed open the front door to the sound of cheerful laughter. 3 Sophia’s luggage was already in the entryway, but she herself was comfortably settled on the couch, sharing a slice of cake with Jack and Tim. Jack fed a bite directly to Sophia, and Tim giggled, playfully complaining that his father was showing favoritism. They looked like the perfect family. The moment I stepped inside, the laughter died. The smiles vanished. Tim shot me a cold glare and turned his head away. Jack’s face hardened. “Well, well,” he said with a sneer. “Done with your fainting act?” I just nodded, my emotional state still strangely placid. My chest didn’t even hurt. It was an unexpected, welcome reprieve. Ignoring them, I started walking toward my bedroom. A sweet voice called out from behind me. “Erika.” I turned. Sophia was looking at me, a shy, almost blushing expression on her face. “Erika, I was just looking around, and I absolutely adore your room… the master suite. It’s so lovely. Do you think… could I have it?” Her words hung in the air. Both Jack and Tim swiveled their heads to look at me, their eyes filled with a silent warning. It was clear: if I protested, they would pounce. But… throwing a fit was simply not in my nature. “Okay,” I said. “It’s yours.” A flash of triumph, sharp and provocative, lit up Sophia’s face. “Oh, thank you, Erika! I knew you wouldn’t mind. Could you possibly help me with my things? My self-care skills are a bit weak, and Jack always says you’re so good at housekeeping. It would be such a help.” The thinly veiled insult was impossible to miss. It was a direct jab, and for the first time, I felt a flicker of genuine annoyance. Without a word, I walked over and took her suitcase. And then I kicked it, hard. It went flying, tumbling down the short flight of stairs with a series of sickening thuds. The smug smile was still on Sophia’s face when the final crash echoed through the hall. “Erika, what the hell are you doing?!” Jack was on me in an instant, his voice a furious roar. “If you didn’t want to help, you could have just said so! Why would you kick her luggage?” Seeing Jack leap to her defense, Sophia’s eyes immediately welled with tears. “Jack, it’s not that I want to make a fuss,” she sobbed, “but… the porcelain inside… it was a piece I’ve been working on for a year…” She knelt and opened the battered suitcase. Inside, a ceramic vase lay in a thousand pieces. Jack couldn’t stand to see his beloved cry. He wrapped his arms around her, murmuring comforting words. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’ll make her apologize. She’ll pay for it.” A simple ceramic pot, of course, wasn’t worth much. But Jack wasn’t about to let it go. He grabbed my arm, his grip like iron. “Erika. Apologize.” I shook my head, a flicker of satisfaction in my aching heart. “Don’t make me say it again. Apologize!” “Miss Kartalian,” Sophia whimpered, her eyes misty and pathetic, “if you’re angry with me, that’s fine. But please, don’t take it out on my art. I…” “No apology,” I said, my voice steady. “You deserved it.” I was simply stating a fact. Who in their right mind packs fragile porcelain in a suitcase for a move, instead of, say, clothes? “Erika! If you don’t apologize right now, we are getting a divorce! You can get the hell out of this house today!” I had expected a wave of sorrow to crash over me. But, surprisingly, my heart remained calm, my breathing even. “Okay.” I wrenched my arm free and marched to the bedroom, quickly packing a small bag. “If you walk out that door,” Jack yelled after me, “don’t you ever come back!” I nodded. As I passed Sophia, I slipped the wedding ring from my finger and placed it on the table beside her. “This,” I said, “should cover your vase.” The sight of the ring on the table finally seemed to break through Jack’s rage. A flicker of panic crossed his face. “What do you mean by that, Erika?”

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The campus belle, pure and principled, swatted the black card from the rich boy’s hand. “Don’t insult me with your dirty money!” I, being even more destitute, picked up the card that had landed at my feet. I carefully handed it back to the rich boy, Caleb Thornton. Caleb’s eyes swept over me. “You convince Riki to take the card,” he said, his voice low and bored, “and I’ll sponsor you, too.” Afraid the card might actually end up with me, Riki snatched it. And just like that, both Riki and I began receiving financial support from the Thornton family. The difference was, I got my sponsorship by groveling to Caleb. Riki got hers with Caleb groveling to her. Years later, Riki went abroad for her master’s, and I started my career. Caleb pulled me into his bed and made me her substitute. Until the day Riki returned. “Riki’s a little uncomfortable knowing about us,” he told me. “You should go find a boyfriend.” I said, “Okay.” 1 No one knew Riki was coming back early. The night before, Caleb and I had been tangled in the sheets until the early hours. I fell asleep curled in his arms. The next morning, a message buzzed on his phone. He shot up in bed, ripping the covers off me. I was completely naked. The sudden cold made me shiver, and I mumbled without opening my eyes, “What’s wrong?” “Riki’s back. Get up, now. Clean this place up, erase every trace of yourself from this room. I don’t want her to find anything. Hurry.” He was already pulling on his pants, his voice urgent and sharp. I was wide awake now. I sat up, acutely aware of my own naked, mark-covered body. The shame hit me like a physical blow. I felt like a dirty secret, a mistress who couldn’t be seen in the light of day—even though he and Riki had never officially been a couple. “Hurry up. I need you gone before I get back with her.” He strapped on his watch and, without another glance at me, strode out the door. After I’d meticulously tidied his apartment, I left quietly. Not long after, my phone rang. It was Caleb. “Riki’s back and she’s craving your cooking,” he said. “Come over and make dinner.” I paused. “Okay.” I returned to Caleb’s apartment, let in this time by the housekeeper. Riki was lounging on the sofa, dressed in an elegant but comfortable-looking loungewear set, the very picture of effortless beauty. “Ava, it’s been so long. You haven’t changed a bit,” she said, her greeting lazy but polite. I managed a small smile. “You’re even more beautiful.” Caleb emerged from the hallway. “Ava, get started on dinner. Riki’s getting hungry.” Riki smiled, shifting over to make room for Caleb beside her. “You know,” she sighed dramatically, “the one thing I missed desperately while I was abroad was your cooking, Ava. I’m so glad I can finally have it again.” Caleb chuckled. “See? If you’d come back sooner, you could have had it every day.” “Hmph,” she pouted. “I had to finish my degree. You’re always trying to distract me.” They bantered and laughed, their joy filling the room while I toiled in the kitchen, just as I had countless times before. After dinner, Riki went upstairs to rest in the room Caleb had always kept for her, right next to his. As she left, she asked if my room was still the small maid’s room downstairs. I said yes, but added that I had my own place now. A few days of this routine passed. As I was leaving one evening, Caleb stopped me. “Riki found out about us. She’s… a little uncomfortable.” “Ava, go find a boyfriend. It’ll put her mind at ease.” I stood there for a long moment, the words hanging in the air. Finally, I nodded. “Okay.” “I’ll do my best.” 2 Riki was hired at Stellar Corp, a key subsidiary of Thornton Holdings, which Caleb personally managed. The position of Associate Director in the Strategy Department, a role I had fought tooth and nail to achieve, suddenly had a new Director. She was my boss. I took a few team members to her office to walk her through our current projects. As she flipped through a file, she looked up at me. “Ava, could you get me a coffee?” The other two people in the room shot us a surprised look. They were clearly wondering why the new Director was asking her second-in-command to do a coffee run instead of her assistant. I just nodded. “Of course.” I had always known my place in our little trio. I was the add-on, the bonus prize. I was the lackey trailing behind them, the gofer who ran their errands. Even now, as adults, Riki’s attitude hadn’t changed, and I had learned to accept these small humiliations. On Friday, Caleb announced a get-together to welcome Riki back, telling me to be there early. As I approached the private room, I heard my name. I froze. “Caleb, are you really done with Ava for good?” one of his friends was asking. “What else? Just watch what you say later,” Caleb replied casually. “Don’t bring this up in front of Riki.” “Damn, Caleb, you’re a true romantic,” another voice chimed in. “From high school until now, it’s only ever been Riki. You were just using Ava as a stand-in, right? To keep your family off your case until you could make it official with the real deal.” “To be fair, Ava’s not bad,” the first friend mused. “She’s cleaned up well—good-looking, poised, nothing like that timid, mousy girl from high school. And she’s utterly devoted to Caleb, so obedient. Does anything he asks. You sure you want to let that go?” Caleb laughed. “I had no choice. Riki is my moon, the only one. Ava was a decent way to pass the time, I guess. She’s obedient, compliant.” “But now that Riki’s back, everything else has to be swept clean. I’m just waiting for her to officially say yes.” The friends erupted in laughter, praising his unwavering devotion. “Ava? Why are you just standing at the door?” Riki’s voice came from right behind me. 3 Everyone in the room turned to look. Seeing me, they remembered what they’d just been saying, and a wave of awkwardness rippled through the group. Even Caleb stiffened for a second, a rare sight. But when he saw my neutral expression and Riki walking toward him, he relaxed. He kicked the friend next to him, motioning for him to give up his seat for Riki. I walked in and quietly took a seat in the farthest corner. “Ava, what are you doing all the way over there? Come sit here!” Riki called out magnanimously. I shook my head with a smile. “It’s fine, I can see everything from here.” After the initial awkwardness, the party slowly came back to life with drinking games. Riki, having been away for so long, was rusty and lost several rounds. Caleb drank for her every time. At one point, someone laughed and said, “The last time I got that drunk, I made a total fool of myself. If it hadn’t been for Ava—” He cut himself off abruptly. The atmosphere turned tense for a split second before someone quickly changed the subject. Later, on my way back from the restroom, I heard familiar voices coming from the fire exit stairwell. “Hmph. I don’t like how familiar you and your friends are with Ava,” Riki said, her voice laced with displeasure. “Ava was part of our group for years, of course we’re familiar,” Caleb said, a note of weariness in his tone. “Besides, if you’d just agree to be with me, none of this would matter. You saw how they were all cheering for us tonight.” “Hmph. I’m still observing you,” she cooed. I quickly tiptoed past, making no sound. During a lull in the party, Caleb cornered me in the hallway. “How’s the boyfriend search going?” he asked immediately. He seemed to suspect I was just paying him lip service, and that my lack of action was affecting things with Riki. Impatience flickered in his handsome features. “I really am trying,” I said softly. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay out of your way.” He looked at me, and for a moment, a hint of guilt seemed to cross his face. “Well… make sure you find someone suitable.” “I will.” 4 That weekend, I had dinner with Mark Thompson. We’d met through a corporate partnership. He was the Director of Marketing at his company, tall, good-looking, and had been pursuing me for a while. I hadn’t been interested, but… I sighed internally and forced myself to focus, to engage in conversation, to actually give this a chance. After a couple of dates, we grew more comfortable with each other. When Riki found out, she cornered me in the breakroom, her eyes wide with feigned surprise. “Wow, you already have a boyfriend? I thought you were so in love with Caleb you’d never be able to accept anyone else.” Her words were a casual, stinging slap. I felt my face flush. I forced a smile. “The past is the past. You have to move forward.” “Well, my birthday is this weekend. You should bring him,” Riki said with a bright smile. “Caleb will probably be happy to see you’ve found someone.” I nodded. “Okay.” … Caleb spared no expense for Riki’s birthday party. It was extravagant, a grand affair. Mark and Caleb exchanged pleasantries, Mark eagerly shaking Caleb’s hand and calling him “Mr. Thornton.” Caleb gave him a brief, assessing look, then glanced at me before giving a cool, noncommittal nod. After the main celebration, the party moved to the riverfront to watch the fireworks display Caleb had arranged for Riki, lighting up the entire southern skyline of the city. I watched them from a distance. Riki and Caleb stood in the best viewing spot, her eyes on the glittering sky, his eyes on her, a look of such tender devotion on his face he seemed ready to pluck the moon from the heavens for her. I looked at Caleb’s tall, imposing figure and saw it merge with the image of the arrogant, vibrant boy from all those years ago. The day he said he would sponsor me, he changed the course of my life. Back then, my gambler of a father kept showing up at school, trying to drag me out, trying to marry me off to a fifty-year-old limping widower to pay off his debts. One afternoon, he was beating me right at the school gates, and no one dared to intervene. Caleb saved me. “I said I’d sponsor you,” he’d declared, “and that means I’ll protect you.” He was the one who helped me escape my father for good. It was the Thornton family’s money that got me through high school and into the university of my dreams. My life finally began to have color. I knew I was just an accessory, a means to an end so Riki would accept his money, a runner he could keep by his side. But the boy who descended from the heavens in my dreams was also the moon I gazed up at. And in that moment, watching the brilliant fireworks explode and fade, I felt something inside me fizzle out and disappear along with them. 5 There was a disaster at the company. A structure at a venue Riki was in charge of collapsed, nearly injuring several major clients. Those clients and a few corporate partners immediately demanded compensation and terminated their contracts. Stellar Corp was hit with a flood of complaints and a full-blown credibility crisis. Thornton Holdings headquarters demanded an explanation, and heads were going to roll. Caleb summoned me to his office. Riki was in his arms, sobbing pitifully. When Caleb saw me, he hesitated. But then Riki tugged on his shirt, and he spoke. “Ava, Riki just got back. It’s her first time managing a venue this big, so it’s understandable she’d make mistakes. As the Associate Director, you should have been assisting her properly. This wouldn’t have happened if you had.” A bitter, ironic smile tugged at my lips. Everyone in the department knew Riki had rejected every single one of my suggestions. “Riki’s professional reputation can’t be ruined by this one incident,” he continued. “She has a bright future, she needs the clients’ trust. And I can’t have my father thinking she’s incompetent.” “You, on the other hand, have a great reputation with our clients, Ava. One mistake like this won’t affect you too badly.” “So, Ava… you’ll take responsibility for this one. Give the public and headquarters an answer.” “I’ll make it up to you later.” I listened to his words, my expression unchanging. I wasn’t even surprised. It was the same role I had played back in school. But still, I couldn’t help it. I stared at him, searching his face, hoping for even a flicker of regret. All I saw was him avoiding my gaze as he comforted Riki. “Forget it,” Riki sniffled, pulling away from him. “If Ava won’t do it, I’ll take the blame. I’ll just leave the country. I can’t stay here and be a disgrace.” “Riki,” Caleb said, pulling her back into his arms. He frowned at me. “Ava, is this really so difficult for you? You’re the best at handling these kinds of situations. Are you saying you won’t do it?” I watched his entitled, impatient expression. My lips moved. “Fine.” Caleb let out a breath of relief. He cooed at Riki, “See? It’s all sorted. Don’t worry. Ava will handle it. The partners trust her the most.” “Ava, thank you,” Riki said, offering me a faint, triumphant smile. I turned and walked out of his office. I went to headquarters. Mr. Thornton Sr. threw a file at my head and screamed at me for ten minutes. He ordered me to personally win back every partner, every client, and to cover all the damages. I left Thornton Holdings in disgrace and began the humiliating process of begging. I was belittled, mocked, and thrown out of offices. I bowed and scraped and pleaded for forgiveness. Finally, I posted a public apology on Stellar Corp’s official website and announced my resignation. My colleagues in the department knew the truth. They felt sorry for me, but they were powerless to say anything. I went to Caleb’s office one last time. “I know it’s been tough these past few days,” he said. “You don’t have to resign. I’ll give you paid leave. Take a good long rest.” I shook my head. “I want a permanent rest.” He sighed. “Fine. When you want to come back, just let me know.” I didn’t answer that. Instead, I said, “I’ve transferred some money to your account. It’s to repay you for your sponsorship and care over the years.” He sat up straight, stunned. “I never expected you to pay that back. You don’t have to.” I shook my head again. “I should. I’ve been saving up for this. Thank you, Caleb.” Thank you for giving me a new life with a single sentence. Thank you for saving me from hell. And thank you for finally giving me a reason to sever all ties, to leave without a single lingering feeling. Caleb stared at me. “Are you angry that I asked you to cover for Riki?” “I already explained, it would have had a huge impact on her career. You’ve been in the industry for years, everyone trusts you. You even handled the fallout perfectly.” “Why are you making such a big deal out of one little thing?”

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The night before our new song was supposed to drop, I disappeared, taking the final lyric sheet with me. Ron blew up my phone—nine hundred and ninety-nine missed calls. “We were supposed to get married after this song was released,” his last voicemail raged. “What the hell are you doing, Celine?” “Someone saw our lyrics posted on a European forum. Are you trying to dump me?” He didn’t know. He didn’t know that I’d accidentally killed a man while trying to save someone, and that I was in prison. He didn’t know that my eardrums had been punctured, that I was deaf. I used sign language to beg a guard to send a text for me. I’m tired of you dragging me down. I’m going solo. 1 The next time I saw Ron, he was the hotshot CEO of a record label. It was just after the holidays, and the temple was swarming with worshippers praying for a prosperous new year. A VIP had arrived to make a donation, and I quickly threw on my yellow volunteer vest to help out. I’d been out of prison for two months. No one would hire an ex-convict. The temple’s abbot had taken pity on me, offering me a volunteer position—room, board, and a small stipend of five hundred dollars a month. If I saved up, I could afford a better cochlear implant. I looked up and saw him. Ron. He hadn’t changed. He looked exactly like the man I had loved so deeply, a perfect overlay of memory and reality. “This place is so smoky and gross. Let’s just donate the money and leave,” the girl beside him complained, waving a hand in front of her nose. “Didn’t you say you wanted your new album to be a hit?” Ron tapped her nose affectionately. “These are the rules of the business, a little superstition for good luck. Don’t blame bad timing later.” His voice was patient, gentle. His eyes were practically glued to her. “Fine,” she huffed. “Then let’s just get this over with.” She turned to me. “We need three incense sticks… Hey, are you listening to me? Are you deaf?” It wasn’t until her voice rose in irritation that I noticed the anger in her eyes. I quickly grabbed the incense sticks, lit them, and handed them over. Ron never even glanced in my direction. Was it because I looked so different now that he didn’t recognize me? Or was it because he wanted nothing to do with the woman who had betrayed him? “Ah!” A sharp scream, followed by a stinging slap across my face that sent me stumbling to the ground. “Are you trying to burn me?” the girl cried, clutching the back of her hand, her eyes red. I scrambled to pick up my old, battered cochlear implant and put it back on, bowing repeatedly in apology. “It hurts,” she whimpered, leaning into Ron’s arms. “I have a photoshoot tomorrow. What if it leaves a scar?” Ron’s face was etched with concern. He held her hand, gently blowing on the red mark. “It’s okay, baby. I’ll put my special scar cream on it when we get home. And if it really does scar, we’ll get a tattoo to cover it up. I’ll get one with you.” He rolled up his sleeve and patted his forearm. The spot where my name, “Celine,” had once been tattooed was now a blank canvas. I remembered the time I’d cut my arm on a piece of glass. The doctor said the wound was deep and might scar. Ron, knowing how much I loved wearing sleeveless tops in the summer, had researched ancient remedies and concocted his own scar-healing paste. Even with him applying it every night, a faint scar remained. To make me feel better, he’d had my name tattooed on his arm, and I’d had his, “Ron,” tattooed on mine. Now, the last trace of me was gone. The special treatment that had once been mine alone now belonged to someone else. I clutched the singed sleeve of my vest, trying to hide my own tattoo. The implant seemed to be malfunctioning again. I could see their lips moving, but the sound was muffled and distant. I kept tapping it, trying to get it to work. “I’m talking to you!” The girl shoved me hard. “You think a simple ‘sorry’ is enough? What kind of volunteer listens to music on their headphones during work?” Ron shot me a look—cold, unfamiliar. The abbot rushed over to intervene, but I stopped him. “I’m sorry,” I said, bowing deeply again. “If it will make you feel better, you can burn me back.” I held out my bare arm, the one without the tattoo, and stood tall. “Forget it,” Ron said, wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulders. “No need to waste time on insignificant people. It wouldn’t be good if the press saw this.” He whispered something in her ear, and she immediately blushed, her tears turning into a smile. “Okay, I’ll wait for you in the car.” Her glare at me had softened considerably. Ron pulled out his checkbook. “Abbot, you know that Starfire Entertainment is your most generous donor each year.” “I hope you’ll be more careful when selecting volunteers in the future. We can’t have people who don’t take their jobs seriously slacking off here, understand?” The abbot looked at me, conflicted, but finally nodded. I finally understood the look in Ron’s eyes. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even hate. It was a deep, unforgivable disgust. This was the same Ron who, if he tripped and fell, would just brush himself off and say he was fine. He hated me this much. And wasn’t that exactly what I had hoped for when I made my decision five years ago? Celine, you’re just a deaf ex-convict. What are you still hoping for? 2 The kind abbot let me stay in the dorm until a new volunteer arrived. I started packing my things. Two blocks from the dorm was the dark alley where my life had changed forever five years ago. It all started when I met Ron. We met in a bar, kindred spirits with guitars on our backs, chasing a dream in the big city. He played keyboard and composed; I played guitar and wrote lyrics. After countless rejections from record labels and failed music competitions, we spent a year polishing a song that we knew was a masterpiece. A producer friend told us it had massive potential. Ron promised me that no matter how the song did, we would get married the day it was released. That night, I was heading back to our studio with the final lyric sheet. As I passed the alley, I heard a faint cry for help. I recognized it immediately—it was the unique way Ron’s sister, Cora, who had autism, expressed distress. I grabbed an iron rod from a nearby construction site and rushed in. “Let her go! Or I’m calling the police!” Cora’s clothes were torn. She looked at me with pleading eyes. “Well, look what we have here,” one of the two burly men sneered. “One for each of us.” I was outnumbered. I could only shield Cora with my body. As they lunged at me, I swung the iron rod wildly. Suddenly, a scream. One of the men had slipped on the wet pavement. The iron rod pierced his chest. Blood gushed out. Seeing their friend dying, the other man fled. Cora, exhausted, collapsed. Her mother, alerted by a panic button on Cora’s phone, arrived before the police. She knelt before me. “Celine, I know you’re a good girl.” “Cora’s life is already so difficult with her autism. If her reputation is ruined by this, she’s finished.” “I’ll take her away. When the police come, please, don’t mention she was here.” Ron and Cora had lost their father when they were young, raised by their mother alone. She was right. Cora’s emotional state was too fragile for a trial. At the time, I didn’t think much of it. I had acted in self-defense. The man had slipped. I never imagined the man I’d accidentally killed was the son of a powerful city tycoon. His family used their influence to send me to prison. On the first day, they paid other inmates to puncture my eardrums. When I woke up in the prison infirmary, a guard handed me my phone. 326 missed calls from Ron. A flood of messages. One was a voicemail from his mother. “Celine, I’m so sorry. I can’t let Cora testify. We can’t afford to cross that family. I hope you can forgive me.” “As for Ron, I told him a lie to protect him.” “If he knew the truth, with his personality, he’d blow this whole thing up. I hope you’ll be the one to break up with him.” “If you want compensation, I’ll sell everything I have to pay you back… I just want my children to live happy, peaceful lives.” I touched the bandages on my ears. The doctor said the damage was severe, my hearing reduced to just 5%. I would need to wear a cochlear implant for the rest of my life. The beautiful sounds of the world were lost to me forever. How could a person like me chase a music dream with Ron? So, I asked the guard to send that text. I became the betrayer, the villain in his story, and disappeared from his life. After that, I served my time quietly. I heard Ron left the city not long after. Five years later, he was back. He was the CEO of a record label. I was a pariah. I never expected to see him again at a production company. A company had finally expressed interest in my lyrics. I went for an interview with my portfolio. After a long wait in the reception area, the door opened. A familiar face. It was Evan, a friend who had chased the same dream with us back in the day. “Well, well, if it isn’t the famous plagiarist, Celine. Did you steal this new set of lyrics from some other poor sucker?” He smirked. “Ron, you’re just in time. Come give me your expert opinion.” 3 “Evan, who’s here?” A couple walked out of the recording studio, arm in arm. When Ron saw me, he froze. “Aren’t you the girl from the temple…?” The new girl, whose name I learned was Wendy, frowned. Evan smiled at me. “Let me introduce you. This is Wendy, Starfire Entertainment’s newest rising star, and also Ron’s current girlfriend.” “As for this one…” he said with a meaningful look, “this is Ron’s old partner, the notoriously shameless plagiarist, Celine.” Plagiarist. The word hit me like a sledgehammer. I looked up and saw the mocking smile on Ron’s face. “So it was you.” Wendy scoffed. “So you’re the reason Ron was in such a slump… If I’d known, I would have slapped you a few more times at the temple!” “The temple?” Evan sneered. “Have you had a change of heart, Celine? Thinking of becoming a nun to atone for your sins?” “No, I was just volunteering there…” Before I could finish, Wendy’s hand flew towards my face. Ron grabbed her wrist, a flicker of alarm in his eyes. “Don’t stop me! I’m going to teach her a lesson for you!” She was furious. As I bent down to pick up my dropped implant, she brought her foot down on it. “Still listening to music? Is it that song you stole?” Wendy lifted her foot and ground my last shred of dignity into the floor. The implant shattered into pieces under her heel. Ron watched with detached amusement, not saying a word to stop her. Then, he suddenly bent down and took Wendy’s foot in his hands. “Does it hurt?” he asked, brushing the plastic shards away with disgust. “Why get so worked up over someone like this? She’s not worth it.” Someone like this. Yes. I was a plagiarist, an ex-convict, and deaf. My implant was destroyed, but I didn’t need my ears to hear the overflowing affection in Ron’s voice. After five years of being deaf, I had learned to read lips. “It doesn’t hurt… It’s just a shame about the shoes. You had them custom-made for me overseas…” Wendy pouted. “It’s fine. I’ll just order you another pair.” Ron picked up the broken heel and tossed it into the trash can. He swept Wendy up into his arms and walked away without a backward glance. I stared at the trash can. I wondered how many cochlear implants that one pair of shoes could buy. Evan threw my portfolio at my feet. “A small studio like ours can’t afford to work with a big-shot plagiarist like you. Take your things and get out. And stop showing your face around Ron.” I bent down and gathered the scattered pieces of my pride. The implant was broken beyond repair, just like my place in Ron’s heart. He hated me that much. With a soft sigh and a bitter smile, I stepped into the elevator. A hand shot out and blocked the doors. Ron cornered me, his eyes sharp and cold. “Can’t take it already?” I turned my face away. “I thought you were so tough,” he sneered. “Taking our love song and running to your sugar daddy… Did he not take good care of you? Why are you out here looking for work?” “Yeah, he got tired of me and threw me out,” I said, lifting my chin and forcing a smile. “So I’m very broke right now. Are you satisfied with that answer, Mr. Hayes?” Ron’s lips thinned, his gaze darkening. “How about you give me some money? Consider it payment for the three years I spent chasing your dream with you… I’ll do whatever you want. Including my body…” I grabbed his hand and pressed it to my chest. He snatched it back as if he’d been burned. “Shameless!” His breathing was ragged. He turned his face away, his hand trembling. “I wouldn’t touch a body that dirty.” “Tomorrow morning, 8 a.m. The Barley Bar. We need a guitarist for the new song launch party. Five thousand for the night. Are you in?” “I’m in.” 4 I arrived at The Barley Bar at 7:30, half an hour early. The decor was exactly the same as the place where Ron and I had first met. From the neon sign outside to the banner hanging over the stage. Starfire Entertainment – Wendy’s New Song Launch Party. My implant was still broken, but I put the pieces in my ear anyway, hoping for the best. They handed me a guitar. Wendy sang all eight songs from her new album. In the audience, Ron watched her, his eyes filled with a soft, lingering affection. Finally, we reached the last page of the songbook. I was exhausted. I just wanted this nightmare to be over so I could get my five thousand dollars and buy a new implant. Every breath I took in this place reminded me of the time I had spent with Ron. Every night at 8 p.m., we would play here. When there was no audience, we were each other’s cheerleaders. The rest of the time, we were crammed into a tiny 150-square-foot room, listening to the couple next door fight, surviving on instant noodles. I sold that lyric sheet and bought a cochlear implant. The thought was a bitter pill. I’d been alone my whole life, an orphan with no one to rely on until I met Ron. Suddenly, a new sheet of music was placed in front of me. I recognized it instantly. It was our song. The one we never released. The copyright was still in Ron’s name. Before I could react, he was walking onto the stage. “To all the media and fans, tonight, I have a gift for Wendy.” “And I’ve brought my family here to witness it.” I followed his gaze to the left side of the stage. My eyes met Cora’s. She smiled and waved at me, but her mother quickly pulled her hand down. “Musicians, if you please.” Ron turned his back to the audience and nodded at me. “I want to dedicate this song to the love of my life.” He raised the microphone. I had played this song a million times. My fingers found the chords on the guitar, moving with a practiced ease that didn’t require hearing. Even without the lyrics, I could feel the dense, sweet affection flowing between them. The song ended. The applause was thunderous. I stood up, my hands shaking uncontrollably. “Family, let’s give them our best wishes!” Evan shouted, leading the cheer. “I’ll produce all the music for your wedding and your first kid’s birthday party, how’s that for a deal?” Ron’s mother slipped a jade bracelet from her wrist onto Wendy’s. Cora looked at me, then took a barrette from her hair and gave it to them. Everyone gave their most precious possessions to Ron and Wendy as blessings. Finally, it was just me. Ron and Wendy stood there, their fingers intertwined, smiling at me. I took the broken implant out of my ear and placed it in his palm. After five years in prison, I had nothing left to give. The person I had cherished most, I had pushed away myself. My ears were deaf, my dreams were shattered. And Ron was finally going to be someone else’s husband. I looked up and managed a smile. The tightly wound string in my mind snapped. The roaring in my head finally ceased. I couldn’t hear anything at all anymore. “Congratulations,” I mouthed, my eyes downcast. “If you still need a guitarist for the wedding, I can do it for free.” I saw a flash of surprise in Ron’s eyes. I bowed deeply. “Thank you for the performance fee, sir.” I turned and walked away, my head held high under the scrutiny of the crowd. My phone buzzed with a transfer notification. In my peripheral vision, I saw Cora pull away from her mother and rush onto the stage, whispering something in Ron’s ear. I hailed a cab. Suddenly, I heard a man’s roar from inside the bar. “This isn’t a goddamn hearing aid?” “Cora, say that again? Who did you say had their ears punctured in prison?”

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1 On my childhood best friend’s birthday, I put on a new dress, did my makeup perfectly, and invited all our friends, planning to finally confess the feelings we’d shared for ten years. I waited from six in the evening until eleven at night. He never showed up. As everyone was leaving, I glanced into the private room next door and saw him locked in a passionate kiss with my best friend. I turned around, threw myself into the arms of the most popular guy in school, and sobbed, “Do you want to give us a try?” The day I was supposed to leave the country to study abroad with that same guy, my childhood friend ran up and grabbed my arm. “She told me that a little jealousy would make you need me even more! Please, don’t go!” To hell with childhood sweethearts. This time, I’m rewriting my own script. I had spent an entire month preparing for this night. 999 paper cranes, each one inscribed with something I wanted to say to him. The walls were covered with photos I’d secretly taken of Leo over the years—sweat dripping down his face during a basketball game, him chewing on his pen with a goofy grin, and one time when he fell asleep studying, drool nearly pooling on his homework. In the center of the wall, surrounded by a halo of balloons, was a sign that read: “It’s been ten years. Let’s be together.” I thought he would be moved, that he would hug me and say, “I’ve liked you for a long time, too.” I never expected this. I sat there like a joke from six o’clock until eleven, and he never even came. My friends started exchanging nervous glances. One of the guys finally grumbled, “Can we just eat? I’m starving.” The girl next to him kicked him under the table, then turned to me with a strained smile. “He’s probably just held up at practice. You know how it is with athletes.” The pity in her eyes was like a needle, making my face burn. “It’s fine, you guys go ahead and eat,” I said with a smile, my voice light, even as my heart sank into a cold, dark pit. The party wound down, and people started to leave. I was the last one out, my head spinning as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over me. As I passed the private room next door, I glanced inside out of habit and froze. Leo was there, holding Maya, his lips pressed against hers as if he wanted to devour her whole. Maya was my roommate. And my best friend. I stood there, a roaring in my ears. I wanted to storm in, to tear them apart, but my hand stopped on the doorknob. What right did I have? Was I his friend? His “little sister”? What gave me the right to question him? I turned to leave and stumbled into a waiter’s tray behind me. Red wine splashed all over me, all over my new white dress, staining it a deep, blood-red. My friends heard the crash and came over. They saw the scene in the room and stood there, awkwardly silent. Someone handed me a napkin. Someone else looked away. Another pretended to be busy on their phone. After seeing them all off, I couldn’t hold it together anymore. The heel of my high heel twisted, and I collapsed onto the sidewalk. The jar of paper cranes shattered, the glass shards cutting my hand. Blood mixed with the wine on my dress. All my strength left me, and I broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. Just then, a suit jacket was draped over my shoulders. I looked up to see a hand reaching out to me. It was Ethan. 2 I remembered he was one of the invited guests tonight, but he had been sitting quietly in a corner the whole time, so much so that I’d barely noticed he was there. He looked at my pathetic state, his hand still extended, and said, “Let me take you home.” I took his hand to stand up and fell into his arms, clinging to him tightly. The tears came even harder, a messy torrent of snot, tears, and smudged makeup, all over his clean white shirt. “How could they?” I wailed, oblivious to the stares of passersby. “Why would they do this to me?” He didn’t seem to notice the onlookers either. He just gently patted my back, soothing me like I was a frightened kitten. Back in my dorm room, I crawled into bed and shut my eyes, trying to will the night away. The door creaked open. Maya was back. “Ava!” she called out excitedly as she walked in. The blanket was pulled back to reveal her beaming face. “Leo and I are together! Aren’t you happy for me?” Seeing my cold expression, she quickly added, “You’re not mad at me, are you?” I looked at her. There was no guilt on her face, only a smug triumph. “I’m not mad,” I said quietly. She let out a sigh of relief. “I knew you were the best,” she said with a smile, then sat on the edge of my bed and started recounting their love story. “Last week, when he helped me carry my books, our fingers touched.” “He remembered that I don’t eat cilantro.” “Today, in the private room, he said he’d been waiting for this day for a long time.” “He kissed me first, you know. He’d had a little too much to drink and said he’d liked me since the first time he saw me.” She was animated, her lips curved into a triumphant smile. As I listened to her go on and on, I thought about a month ago, when I was up all night folding those paper cranes for Leo. She had said to me then, “If a guy ever did something like this for me, I’d say yes in a heartbeat.” I thought about how, just a few days ago, she had encouraged me, telling me that if I liked someone, I should just be brave and tell them. I just didn’t realize she was talking about them, not me. “As long as you’re happy,” I sighed. She paused, seemingly surprised by my calm reaction. 3 Leo and I grew up together. He was an athlete from the school next door—tall, handsome, with a sunny disposition and dimples when he smiled. Every time he came to find me for dinner or to hang out, I could never bring myself to leave Maya alone, so the three of us became a familiar sight on campus. But Maya… She knew. She knew how long I’d liked Leo. She knew that for years, I had shared every secret, every flutter of my heart, every romantic fantasy with her, holding nothing back. She knew that today, in that very room, I was planning to tell him, “Let’s be together.” And yet, on the day of my planned confession, she was in the room next door, kissing the boy I loved. Maya continued to chatter in my ear. “Ava, please don’t be weird about me and Leo getting together. We still think of you as our best friend!” “The three of us can still be just like before!” “If you’re mad, it would make me really, really sad.” My face was a cold mask. I couldn’t be bothered to answer her. She looked at me, then asked tentatively, “Will you come shopping with me tomorrow? I want to buy matching couple outfits.” I pulled the blanket over my head and replied coldly, “I’m busy.” Undeterred, she tried to pull the blanket back, ready to say more. I closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. A little while later, my phone vibrated. It was a message from Leo. “I’m the one who went after her. Don’t take it out on her.” “She thinks of you as a sister. What kind of friend are you being? She’s been crying all night!” “Don’t be jealous just because Maya and I are together. If you bully her again, we can’t even be friends anymore.” I stared at the screen, a sickening feeling twisting in my stomach. I remembered when we were ten, and he carried me home after I scraped my knee, promising, “I’ll always protect you.” On my fifteenth birthday, he gave me a basketball with “Wishing Ava a lifetime of happiness” written on it. After we graduated high school, he said, “I’ll go to the university next to yours, so I can always look out for you.” Those memories clashed with the image from last night, exploding in my mind. I clutched the corner of my blanket. It turned out the boy who grew up with me wasn’t the person I thought I knew at all. 4 The next morning, I went to the dean’s office to re-apply for the full scholarship to Oxford that I had previously given up. The administrator flipped through my file. “There you go,” she said. “It would have been a real shame to let such a great opportunity go. I was afraid you’d regret it, so I never submitted your withdrawal form. See? Now you’re back.” She continued to chatter. “What is with you kids these days? Treating your futures like a game.” “That Ethan kid, too. He got the spot, then gave it up, only to apply to the same school on his own… I just don’t get it.” My heart skipped a beat. “This spot… Ethan gave it to me?” The administrator nodded. “He did. His advisor and I tried to talk him out of it. He was so set on that school, but when he got the scholarship, he just refused it. Insisted on applying through the regular process. I’ll never understand what goes through your heads.” I walked out of the office in a daze, her words echoing in my mind. I didn’t know Ethan well. I mostly knew of him from others—the campus heartthrob who dominated the university’s social media every month, the genius who was always at the top of his class, and, rumor had it, from a very wealthy family. The kind of guy girls would steal glances at wherever he went. In my memory, he was always untouchable, with a warm but distant smile, maintaining a polite social distance from everyone. If we had any interaction at all, it was in the packed library before final exams. There was always an empty seat next to him, and since I was always late, I’d drag Maya to sit there. We had barely exchanged a few words. But I remember one time, I was stuck on a problem, so frustrated I almost ripped my textbook in half. Ethan, sitting next to me, “happened” to get up and leave just then. I glanced over and saw the complete solution written out in his notebook. I felt a little thrill of victory and quickly copied it down. Just as I finished, he came back and picked up the notebook he’d “forgotten.” Another time, I fell asleep at my desk while working on an architectural model. When I woke up, a jacket was draped over my shoulders. I had always assumed it was Leo’s. Now that I thought about it… Leo wasn’t even there that day. How could I have been so blind, so certain that he was the only one who cared about me? Before, I was so wrapped up in my feelings for Leo that I was oblivious to everything else around me. Now, all these little details I’d never noticed before were coming into sharp focus. I thought about last night, how I’d cried all over him, my ruined makeup and tears smearing his shirt. My face started to burn. What an embarrassing memory to have. 5 To celebrate his new relationship with Maya, Leo invited our entire four-person dorm room out for hot pot. The table was laden with Maya’s favorite dishes. He tenderly placed food on her plate, gently pushed her hair back when she leaned over, and wiped the corners of her mouth. He barely ate himself, spending the entire meal doting on her and watching her with a loving smile. Our other roommates sighed in admiration. “Leo is so good to Maya! It’s like a fairytale romance!” “I’m so jealous! This is the cutest thing ever!” Maya playfully tapped Leo’s arm and said to our roommates, “You know, I always thought Leo liked Ava. They grew up together, after all. But he told me they were really just friends, and that I’m his type.” She said it casually, but her eyes kept flicking over to me. Leo chuckled, picking up a piece of beef and feeding it to her. “What did we know as kids? Ava and I are just like brother and sister.” I kept my head down, stirring the food in my bowl, fighting the urge to roll my eyes. Suddenly, Maya turned to Leo, pouting. “I heard you built a little greenhouse in your backyard. Can you take me there later? I was always so jealous when Ava told me about you two going there together.” My hand froze, my chopsticks nearly clattering into the pot. Leo’s smile didn’t falter. “Of course. From now on, I’ll only take you.” My fingers tightened, my nails digging into my palm. That was our secret place. A greenhouse Leo had built just for me. On my fifteenth birthday, he painted glowing stars on the glass ceiling and told me, “This place is just for you and me.” I had nodded seriously, and I had believed him until this very moment. She turned to me, a bright, innocent smile on her face. “Ava, want to come with us?” Leo immediately interjected, “We’re on a date. Why would we bring someone else?” I looked up at them, my voice laced with indifference. “No, thanks. I’m sick of that place.” Their smiles froze. I had no interest in watching their little performance any longer. “I’m done. I’m leaving,” I said, getting up from the table. A cold wind hit my face, making my eyes sting. I walked out and stood at the street corner, staring at my own shadow under the lamplight. I felt as lonely as a stray dog. 6 My phone vibrated. It was a message from Ethan. “The administrator told me you’re going to Oxford too. Do you have time to discuss study abroad stuff?” I thought for a moment and replied, “Sure. Give me a minute.” The place he suggested was my favorite dessert shop. When I pushed open the door, I saw him immediately, sitting by the window. His long, elegant fingers were tapping restlessly on the table, making him look a bit nervous. On the table was a slice of my favorite strawberry cake. “How did you know I like this?” I asked, surprised. His eyes darted away. “I just ordered randomly,” he mumbled, but his ears were turning a telltale red. I leaned in, a smile playing on my lips, and studied his face. “Really?” I blinked. He froze completely. I was so close I could see the gentle flutter of his eyelashes and the faint dark circles under his eyes. He cleared his throat awkwardly and handed me a folder. “I’m also planning to go to this school, so I put together some information for you.” His voice was steady, but his hand trembled slightly. I took the folder and opened it. Inside wasn’t just course descriptions, but also study tips, a guide to living abroad, and even notes on the research interests and preferences of various professors in the architecture department. I looked up at him, shocked. “This must have taken you a lot of time. But how did a finance major manage to prepare all this for an architecture student?” He froze again, at a loss for words. I pressed on. “The administrator said you gave me your scholarship spot?” He was stunned for a second but quickly regained his composure. “It… it wasn’t challenging enough,” he stammered. “I wanted to test myself by applying through the regular process.” “Is that so?” I said, a teasing glint in my eye. “Yes…” He picked up his water glass and took a sip, avoiding my gaze. “But… you’re drinking from my glass,” I pointed out. He froze, looked down at the glass in his hand, and his ears instantly turned a fiery red. He quickly set it down, stammering like a guilty schoolboy. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” I couldn’t help but laugh. He was actually kind of cute. I picked up the bag beside me and handed it to him. “This jacket… you’re the one who put it on my shoulders, right?” He opened the bag and glanced inside. His hand tightened around the handles, his voice barely a whisper. “You know?”

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Charlie’s ex knew my morning sickness was crippling, yet insisted we watch lions hunt at night. When I refused, she burst into tears. “You’re so selfish,” Charlie snapped at me—then caught himself. “Get some rest,” he muttered, handing me warm milk. I woke up dangling over a lion pride. Charlie stood safely away, arm around Lila. “She cried because you ruined her fun,” he called. “So you’ll be the bait. Your blood should give her a good show.” The others watched from an armored jeep as lions circled below. Then my earpiece crackled. “Dad,” I whispered, “someone’s trying to kill me. Bring the unit. Let’s make them regret it.” 1 My words were met with a fresh wave of laughter from the vehicle. Lila called out, her voice laced with mock concern. “Aurora, darling, I think the fear’s gone to your head. Your father isn’t here!” Charlie pulled her closer, a dismissive sneer on his face. “Her father’s dead.” His words hit me like a physical blow. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. My father’s identity was a closely guarded secret. For years, only my mother and I knew the truth of his work. I had told Charlie countless times that my father wasn’t dead, just on a deep-cover assignment, unable to make contact. “My father is not dead, Charlie! Stop talking nonsense!” My defiance only seemed to irritate him. He frowned, his voice dripping with disgust. “Look at the state of you.” And what a state it was. I was dangling from the branch of a dead, withered tree, bloodstains still fresh on the inside of my thighs. Below, the pride, drawn by the scent, paced restlessly. My only saving grace was that they couldn’t climb. The African savanna at night was a world away from the blistering heat of the day. A cold wind whipped around me, and I shivered in my thin dress. The dead tree creaked and swayed with every gust. The lions below looked up, their eyes glowing with a feral excitement, as if their meal was about to be served. I tried to pull myself up, to shift my weight onto the branch, but it was no use. Seeing the lions circle beneath me, a triumphant smile spread across Lila’s face. Charlie took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders, his voice impossibly gentle, as if he were cradling a priceless treasure. “It’s getting cold, Lila. Don’t catch a chill.” Watching him, so tender and protective, I saw a ghost of the man he used to be—the man who got down on one knee and asked me to be his wife. I met Charlie at work. It was my support, my strategies, and my connections that had propelled him to the success he had now. The day he launched his company, he bought out every rose from every florist in the city to create the most spectacular proposal. “Aurora,” he’d said, his eyes shining with sincerity. “I owe everything to you. I wouldn’t be here today if it weren’t for you.” “Will you marry me? I swear I’ll cherish you, love you, and take care of you forever…” Until Lila reappeared, I believed every word. But after she returned, everything changed. He started coming home late, or not at all. A single phone call from her was enough to pull him away at any hour. “Lila just got back to the country, she doesn’t know anyone else,” he’d say. “I’m just helping out a friend.” He tested my boundaries, bit by bit, until he was blatantly favoring her right in front of my face. Looking back now, I realized what a fool I’d been. 2 A tidal wave of rage and sorrow crashed over me. The thought of the baby in my womb was the only thing that kept me from screaming. I looked at Charlie and softened my voice, forcing a plea. “The lions are here, just like you wanted. Can you let me down now?” A flicker of something—maybe hesitation—crossed his face. But in the next second, Lila gasped. “Charlie, my hand! It hurts. I think I scraped it.” And just like that, I was forgotten. The others in the vehicle took their cue from their boss. It was clear to everyone that Lila was now the priority. “I never liked Aurora anyway,” one of them muttered. “Always acting high and mighty just because she’s the boss’s wife. She’s nothing compared to Lila!” “Exactly! She’s such a hard-ass at work. A total corporate slave driver.” A chorus of complaints rose up, a litany of their grievances against me. They weren’t entirely wrong. I was demanding at work, but I demanded the most from myself. We were there to work and make money, not to slack off. After I got pregnant, Charlie had brought Lila into the company. She championed a “work-life balance” that was really just an excuse for laziness, and she led the charge in slacking off. I had asked Charlie to handle it more than once, but he always defended her. “That’s just her personality, Lila’s so full of life! Don’t you think the office feels more vibrant now?” The employees were certainly happier goofing off, but company profits plummeted. I was the one who, while pregnant, had to smooth things over with our partners and clients. If it wasn’t for me, they wouldn’t have even been able to afford this company retreat. After a moment, Charlie turned back to me, his voice cold and commanding. “Apologize to Lila, and I’ll let you down.” His words were a dagger to my heart. Forcing me to apologize to her was the same as grinding my pride into the dust. A stubborn, defiant thought flared in my mind. I would rather hang here and die than apologize to that woman. “You were the one who refused her first,” Charlie pressed, his voice rising in anger when I didn’t respond. “Is it so hard to say you’re sorry? Did you leave your manners at home?” I ignored him, looking down at the lions instead. The lead male, bored of waiting, was starting to look restless. Maybe, if I held out long enough, they would lose interest and wander off. A small sliver of hope returned. Just then, one of the employees pulled a bucket of raw meat from the back of the vehicle—props for tourists to toss to the animals, to enhance the “safari experience.” “Hey, why don’t we throw the meat at her?” someone suggested. “Make the lions jump up and scare her a little. That’ll be her punishment for not apologizing!” The speaker was Lila’s closest friend at the office, a woman who shared her love for gossip and her distaste for work. Charlie hesitated for a fraction of a second. Lila’s eyes reddened again, her voice a pathetic sob. “Charlie… the lions are leaving. Does this mean I won’t get to see them hunt…?” That was all it took. Charlie’s expression hardened. He looked up at me, his voice a low, chilling whisper. “I gave you a chance. If an apology is too much to ask, then you can accept the consequences.” My eyes widened in horror as I saw what he was holding. A gust of wind sent me swinging wildly. Then, the first chunk of meat flew through the air, landing just below me. The scent of blood sent the pride into a frenzy. One piece followed another. Lions began to leap into the air, snapping at the raw flesh. Sharp claws ripped through the hem of my dress, missing my calf by a hair’s breadth! I tried to curl into a ball, to make myself smaller, but it was useless. 3 A searing pain shot through my leg. Blood instantly blossomed across the fabric of my dress, a crimson stain that spread with terrifying speed. A deep gash had been torn open in my calf. The sight and smell of fresh blood drove the lions below into an even greater frenzy. The guttural roar of the beasts mixed with the howling wind, a symphony of terror that filled my ears. Seeing this, Lila actually stood up and began to applaud. “Thank you, Aurora, for such a spectacular show!” The others joined in, clapping and cheering as they continued to pelt me with chunks of meat. The viscous, cloying scent of pork and blood filled my nostrils. Blood continued to stream from my leg. As they threw the meat higher and higher, the lions leaped more ferociously. Several times, they reached my waist. If I had been their target, I would have been torn apart already. Many of the lions chewed on the meat while keeping their hungry, golden eyes fixed on me. I knew, with a certainty that chilled me to the bone, that once the meat was gone, they would come for me. A profound, suffocating fear enveloped me. The thought of dying here, in this foreign land, so far from home, filled me with an immense sadness. Tears streamed down my face, hot against my cold skin. And then, a sharp, violent pain stabbed through my abdomen. Panic seized me. We had been married for five years, and for five years, I had desperately wanted a child. Charlie had too. I remembered the longing in his eyes when he saw families walking in the park, the way he’d pull me over to the children’s section in department stores. “When we have our baby,” he’d say, “I’m going to buy her all the prettiest dresses in the world!” But my health was poor, and getting pregnant had been a long, heartbreaking struggle. Charlie was always there to comfort me. “It will happen,” he’d promise. “We’ll have our baby.” Now, our baby was finally here. And he didn’t care. Perhaps some small, foolish part of me still held out hope. I forced myself to speak, my voice a ragged plea. “Charlie… my stomach… it hurts so much…” My voice was thick with pain and unspeakable grief. But it was Lila who stepped forward, her tone dripping with scorn. “Wow, Aurora. To think you’d use your own baby to play the victim, all to avoid saying sorry. You really are determined to ruin everyone’s fun, aren’t you?” She looked back at the others, who quickly chimed in. “We were just starting to have fun! Can’t you just hold on for a little longer?” “They’re full now, they won’t hurt you.” … A look of pure disgust crossed Charlie’s face. “Aurora, I’ve told you before. I hate liars.” He turned his back on me, refusing to look at me again. More meat rained down, and several chunks hit my stomach directly. I writhed helplessly, trying to shield my belly with my body. To the onlookers, my desperate movements were just a source of amusement. Another round of harsh, mocking laughter echoed across the savanna. “Look at her, twisting like a maggot. It’s hilarious.” “She’s nothing compared to Lila. No wonder Lila is the one he could never forget.” Lila preened under the praise. Then, I saw she was holding something new. A piece of bone. “The lions must be getting tired of just meat,” she announced with a cruel smile. “Let’s give them some bones to chew on!” My eyes widened in terror. A chunk of meat was one thing, but a bone? It would hit me like a rock. The pain in my abdomen flared again, sharp and terrifying. I started screaming, begging. All my pride, all my dignity, was gone. I just wanted to live. I wanted my baby to live. “No… please, no!” “I’m begging you, please don’t do this to me!” 4 No one listened. They began to hurl the bones. Through the crowd, I saw Lila’s eyes lock onto mine. Her gaze was filled with a chilling, malicious glee. It dropped from my face to my swollen belly, her expression twisting into a mask of pure hatred. “Die!” she mouthed. The word had barely formed on her lips when a heavy, blunt object slammed into my stomach. A scream of agony was ripped from my throat. I felt a warm gush between my legs. Blood. So much blood. I could feel the life draining out of me, out of my baby. My screams turned into desperate, helpless sobs. “My baby! Please, save my baby!” The raw, animalistic grief in my voice was so powerful that it stunned them all into silence. I was a horrifying sight, my hair wild, my body covered in blood. Charlie finally turned around. His pupils constricted in shock at the sight of me. “She’ll be fine,” Lila murmured, pressing herself against his chest. “We fed the lions. What could possibly happen?” “Charlie… please, save me,” I whispered, my voice growing weaker. “This is our baby… the baby you always wanted…” My voice faded, my breath catching in my throat. Charlie scoffed. “You’re a good actress, Aurora. I’ll give you that.” Lila shot me a triumphant look. She then placed a hand on her own flat stomach. “The baby Charlie is excited about,” she said, her voice clear and cutting, “is the one I’m carrying. Not yours.” The world stopped. Suddenly, everything made sense. Rage, pure and absolute, consumed me. It was a physical thing, a pressure building in my chest, choking me. I coughed, and a spray of blood erupted from my lips. I stared at them, my voice a trembling, disbelieving whisper. “What… what do you mean? You two?” Lila’s smile widened. “It means I’m pregnant with Charlie’s child too. Do you understand now?” A laugh bubbled up from my throat, a hysterical, broken sound. The confusion of the past few months evaporated in an instant. This was why he didn’t care. The baby he was waiting for was never mine. It was always hers. I looked at Charlie, and the last embers of love in my heart turned to ice. Our eyes met, and he flinched, a flicker of discomfort on his face. My laughter grew louder, wilder, until it became a raw, keening wail. Because I could feel it. The tiny, fluttering life inside me was gone. I had lost it… I had lost my baby. I would never know if it was a boy or a girl. I would never get to hold it, to see its face, to show it the world. My hysterical grief seemed to make them uncomfortable. Charlie, in particular, was frowning, his eyes fixed on me. Below, the lions had finished the meat and bones. Now, their attention was solely on me. They began to leap again, this time with deadly intent. I had lost too much blood. I had no strength left. A paw swiped at me, and I felt a searing pain as claws tore a chunk of flesh from my side. The agony was absolute. I felt like I’d been submerged in a freezing fire. Lila yawned theatrically and announced she was bored. Charlie looked at her with that same gentle expression. “Alright, let’s go back.” My fate became an afterthought. Someone quietly asked if they should get me down. Charlie refused, his voice harsh. He was clearly still annoyed by the look I’d given him. “Leave her. Let her hang there all night. Maybe it’ll teach her to fix that rotten attitude.” They were turning to leave. And then, the night erupted. Dozens of off-road vehicles, their headlights cutting through the darkness, roared onto the scene, surrounding them completely. The man in the lead vehicle stepped out, an AK-47 in his hands. He walked straight up to Charlie and pressed the barrel to his forehead. “And just where do you think you’re going?”

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I raised my hand to knock on my biological parents’ door when Carter stopped me. “Summer, I was wrong. You’re not the Fitzgeralds’ lost daughter.” The certainty in his eyes told me he’d been reborn too. In our past life, Carter helped me find my family. We fell in love. On our wedding day, his childhood friend—the fake heiress—killed herself horribly. Our marriage crumbled. He blamed me for her death; I hated him for loving my impostor. For ten years, we tore each other apart with vicious words. Then an earthquake hit. He shielded me, taking the crushing debris so I could live. Dying, he whispered, “If I’d known she’d die, I’d never have brought you home.” “Next life, I’ll be all the family you need.” I perished in aftershocks, drowning in regret. Now, reborn, I stood again before my would-be family’s door. 1 Carter blocked my path outside the Fitzgeralds’ villa, his face a mask of conflict and grim resolve. I said nothing, but the image of collapsing steel and concrete flashed before my eyes. His mangled, bloody back, and the words he’d breathed against my ear. “If I had known she would die, I never would have brought you home.” So, this was his choice. If he got a second chance, he would abandon me from the very beginning. Fine. The ten years of our marriage in the last life were hell. He hated me, I resented him, and we tormented each other day and night until death finally set us free. To be able to sever it all at the source… I actually felt a wave of relief. I looked at him and nodded calmly. “Okay.” A flicker of astonishment crossed Carter’s face. The speech he had prepared died in his throat. “What did you say?” he asked, almost reflexively. “I said, I understand,” I repeated. “If you made a mistake, then that’s that. Thanks for the ride. I should head back to campus.” I turned to leave. His hand shot out and gripped my arm. “Summer Hines!” His voice was a low growl, laced with a hint of panic. “What kind of attitude is that? Haven’t you always wanted to find your family? I tell you it’s a mistake, and you just give up that easily?!” I turned back to him, finding the situation almost laughable. He had gone to such lengths to lie, all so I would give up. Now that I had done exactly as he wished, he was still not satisfied. “What else am I supposed to do?” I retorted. “Carter, are you telling me you lied? That I am the real Fitzgerald daughter?” The panic in his eyes intensified at my words. His grip on my arm tightened unconsciously. He lowered his gaze, hiding his expression from me. “Let’s just drop this. Don’t ever bring it up again, and don’t go near the Fitzgeralds.” “I understand.” I pulled my arm free, rubbing the red marks his fingers had left on my wrist. “I won’t bring it up, and I won’t go near them. Are you satisfied now, Carter?” He stared at my empty hand, a flicker of bewilderment on his face, as if he’d lost something precious. He didn’t know that I was reborn, too. This time, I would not walk through that door. I would not become the Fitzgeralds’ daughter. And I would certainly not… become his wife. He wanted to protect his childhood sweetheart, to keep their perfect world intact. I was more than happy to oblige. “I’m leaving.” Without another glance at him, I turned and walked towards the bus stop. Behind me, Carter’s voice, edged with frustration, chased after me. “Wait! I’ll drive you back.” Carter didn’t take me back to my dorm. He drove straight to a high-end apartment building in the city center. I watched the city lights blur past the window, a cold clarity settling in my heart. In our last life, after we got married, this was our love nest. It had held our tenderest moments and witnessed our slow descent into bitter resentment, until all that was left was hatred. The car stopped. He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to me. In the dim light of the car, his expression was unreadable, but his tone had softened, no longer as harsh as it was outside the Fitzgeralds’ home. “Get out. We need to talk.” 2 I followed him into the apartment. The decor was familiar—a cool, minimalist design that mirrored his personality: refined and distant. Only this time, I felt none of the heart-fluttering excitement I once had. He tossed me a bottle of water from the fridge and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, lighting a cigarette. The pale smoke swirled around him like a mist, creating a barrier between us. “Summer, I know you’re upset.” He spoke, his voice muffled by the smoke. “I handled the situation with your family poorly. But Amelia’s health… it’s not good right now. She can’t handle any kind of shock.” Amelia again. I lowered my eyes, twisted open the cap, and took a silent sip of water. The cold liquid slid down my throat but couldn’t quell the bitterness churning inside me. He had said the same thing in our last life. He told me Amelia had been frail since childhood, prone to depression, and that I should be more considerate of her once I was reunited with my family. And I listened. I yielded every bit of Carter’s favoritism to her. I even chose to retreat and stay silent during her endless, unreasonable provocations. But she used her own suicide to sentence our marriage to a decade-long life sentence of misery. Seeing my silence, Carter must have thought I was still sulking about not being able to meet my family. He stubbed out his cigarette with a sigh of resignation. He turned, walked over, and knelt in front of me, looking up with a pleading expression. “Don’t be mad at me, okay?” His voice was soft, and his large hand enveloped mine as I held the water bottle. “I admit, I messed up today. I got your hopes up for nothing.” “Tell me what you want as compensation. Anything. As long as it’s within my power, I’ll give it to you.” He paused, his tone growing more earnest. “But for now, let’s just… not think about the Fitzgeralds, alright?” He had humbled himself completely, his love for me practically spilling from his eyes. I could see it clearly. He was terrified of me being angry, terrified of me leaving him. But that love was conditional. The price was my identity. I looked up, met his gaze, and suddenly wanted to laugh. “There’s nothing I want.” I calmly pulled my hand away. The movement made the light in his eyes dim for a moment. “Don’t worry. Even if the Fitzgeralds begged me to come back with all their wealth, I wouldn’t give them a second glance.” “And you don’t need to apologize. You don’t owe me anything. Let’s just end things between us.” Carter’s brow furrowed tightly. He shot to his feet, his face instantly turning cold. “End things? Summer, are you throwing a tantrum? Is this some kind of game? Because I wouldn’t let you meet your family, you’re playing hard to get?” He leaned in, his hands braced on the sofa on either side of me, trapping me in his space. “I just said you can’t go to the Fitzgeralds! I never said I wanted to break up with you! We can be just like we were before. No, I’ll treat you even better than before!” I looked at him and suddenly felt so tired. He thought that by stripping me of the identity of the “true Fitzgerald heiress,” we could go back to the beginning, that we could love each other without any problems. But he didn’t understand. The root of the tragedy was never about whether I returned to the Fitzgeralds or not. “Carter,” I said, pushing him away and standing up, creating distance between us. “I’m tired. I want to go home.” Without another look at him, I walked straight to the door. This time, he didn’t stop me. 3 In the following days, I threw myself into the final preparations for my study abroad application. Soon enough, I received an acceptance letter from a university overseas. My departure date was set for next month. The day before I was scheduled to leave, I was stopped by two men in black suits as I walked out of the library. “Miss Hines, Mr. Gould would like to see you.” I was forced into a car that sped through the city, finally stopping at the top floor of a skyscraper overlooking the river. “Mr. Gould is busy. Please wait here.” A bodyguard escorted me into a glass room, then turned, left, and locked the door behind him. The room had a spectacular view, with one entire wall made of a massive pane of glass. Across from the glass was the city’s most exclusive rooftop garden restaurant. At that moment, the restaurant was brightly lit and bustling with activity. A grand birthday party was in full swing. The guest of honor was Amelia Fitzgerald. She was dressed in a stunning gown, the center of attention. And the man standing beside her, placing a birthday tiara on her head and gazing at her with tender affection, was Carter. I watched as Carter took Amelia’s hand for the first dance. They spun, drew close, and whispered to each other, looking every bit the perfect couple. The guests applauded, their faces beaming with blessings. I suddenly wanted to laugh. To laugh at how foolishly I had clung to him in my past life. Was it worth it, squandering my entire life for a man who didn’t love me? I closed my eyes, unable to bear the sight any longer. But the image of Carter’s mangled, bloody face from the earthquake, the memory of his trembling spine as he shielded me, surfaced in my mind, unbidden. He hated me, yet he saved me. That debt was a vast net, trapping me, leaving me unable to move.

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1 I found him in the woods, a broken thing more reptile than man, and I dragged him home. He was Silas, the Snake Charmer—a creature of scales and silence, loathed by everyone in our traveling carnival. They called him a freak, a monster. I was the only one who saw the boy beneath the skin. I was the one who got on my knees in the dirt, begging my sister to let him stay. My sister, Seraphina, the carnival’s golden girl, had laughed, pointing a manicured finger at us. “You want to keep this stray, Wren? Fine. Then you marry him.” Silas had stared at her with eyes like cold glass, intense and unblinking. For his trouble, she slapped him—hard, a sharp crack that echoed in the tent. I was terrified he would hate her for it. So, on our wedding night, I spent hours whispering her praises, trying to smooth over the edges of her cruelty. But when the raiders came, riding out of the dust storm with guns drawn, Silas didn’t hesitate. He threw himself in front of Seraphina. He shielded her body with his own, leaving me exposed to the rough hands of the bandits. I was beaten until the world went gray. And later, when I lay dying from the injuries, Seraphina didn’t weep. She told the others I had Typhus, a plague that would rot them all from the inside out. She ordered them to burn me alive. I heard later that when Silas found out, he didn’t just break; he shattered. He unleashed every viper, every cobra, every rattler in his collection upon the carnival. The screams of the people who had watched me burn rang out for days, drowned only by the hissing of the snakes. 1. The show was in full swing when the raiders hit. The music of the calliope was drowned out by the thunder of hooves and the crack of pistol fire. Panic tore through the big top. The audience screamed, a stampede of terrified bodies mixing with the rough shouts of the bandits. I was dragged by my hair, my forehead slamming against the hard-packed earth. A man with a jagged scar across his cheek hauled me up, the rough gravel slicing into my skin. Blood trickled into my eye. It hurts… God, it hurts. My first thought, stupid and instinctive, was for him. Where is Silas? Is he safe? Fear, cold and sharp, spiked in my chest. I didn’t care about the gun pressed to my ribs. I fought, thrashing against the bandit’s grip until a heavy boot stomped onto my back. I heard the sickening snap of a rib cracking. “Help! Someone, please!” It was a delicate, terrified cry. Seraphina. Seraphina. Is she okay? She’s too beautiful for this world; if they take her… I tried to crawl, to drag my broken body toward her voice. But a shadow moved faster than I ever could. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her behind him, a living shield against the chaos. He stood there like a tragic hero from one of the dime novels Seraphina loved. The bandits hesitated as a dozen small vipers slithered from his sleeves, hissing a warning. It was Silas. I stopped struggling. My heart stuttered, then slowed. Silas was there. Seraphina would be safe. “Thought you could run, did you?” The scarred bandit yanked me back, backhanding me across the face. The sound was loud enough to cut through the noise. Silas turned. He looked right at me. For a second—just a heartbeat—he hesitated. But then he turned back to Seraphina, ushering her away from the danger, treating her like fine china while I was treated like trash. Before she disappeared, Seraphina glanced back. She offered me a tight, mocking smile, mouthing a single word: Idiot. They rounded up the rest of us—the roustabouts, the freaks, the unwanted. They tied us to the acrobatic poles, the rough hemp rope biting into my wrists. I heard Pa, the Ringmaster, haggling with the bandit leader. “Look, take the cash box. Take the horses. Just leave the talent. We starve without the animals. If you want… take the Clown Girl. She’s yours. Do whatever you want with her.” I let my head hang heavy. The Clown Girl. That was me. The bandit leader swaggered over, gripping my chin and forcing my head up. But when the light hit my face, he recoiled, dropping me like I burned him. “What the hell is this? A goblin?” My greasepaint was smeared with blood and sweat, a grotesque mask over my scarred face. I bit my lip, tasting iron, and looked at the ground. In the end, even the bandits didn’t want me. They took the money and Pa’s prized white stallion. When the dust settled, Pa was furious. He kicked me in the ribs, right where the bone had snapped. “Useless trash. Even the snake-freak didn’t save you. Why are you even alive? You’re just a waste of food.” I coughed, spitting blood onto the dirt. No one helped me. The troupe looked at me with a mix of pity and disgust, their eyes saying what Pa wouldn’t: Why don’t you just die? Only Pip, the little golden monkey I’d raised from a baby, hopped over. He nuzzled his furry head against my chest, making soft, chirping sounds. I hugged him tight, letting the tears finally fall. Pip, living hurts so much. I’m just glad I have you. 2 It was the Great Depression, and the world was a hungry, violent place. Pa had been running from debts and the law for years. He dragged Ma out to the Dust Bowl, cobbling together a ragtag carnival to survive. That same year, they had a daughter. Seraphina. She was perfect—blonde, blue-eyed, the hope of the family. The carnival grew. We picked up drifters, acrobats, and animals. Money started trickling in. Life was almost good. Until I was born. I came out with a port-wine stain covering half my face, a map of blood on my skin. Ma died birthing me. Pa and Seraphina hated me for it. I didn’t even get a real name for years. Everyone just called me “Wren”—small, brown, easily missed. I had no friends. I had no love. To earn my keep, I put on the greasepaint and played the fool, the clumsy clown who fell down so children would laugh. I thought that was all my life would be. Until I found Silas. Silas was a “Geek,” a sideshow attraction. He had a skin condition, ichthyosis, that made his flesh look like scales. He was dark, brooding, and dangerous. I found him in the woods near a town we were passing through. Locals had beaten him half to death, driving the “monster” away. He was bleeding, broken, but his eyes were still fierce. “Get away, freak!” a kid screamed, throwing a rock that struck Silas’s temple. He collapsed. My heart squeezed. He’s like me. Unwanted. Maybe… maybe we could be friends. I was so lonely I could taste it. I waited until the mob left. Then I crept to his side. He was in bad shape. His pulse was a fluttering bird. He needed medicine, real medicine, but I didn’t have a dime. I went to Seraphina. She was the star; she had the money. She looked at me from her vanity mirror, applying her lipstick. She smiled, slow and cruel. “A clown who can’t do tricks is useless, Wren. Tell you what. You learn to walk the high wire by tonight, and I’ll lend you the cash.” 3 The scars on my legs, remnants of falling from that wire, throbbed in the cold night air. I think I damaged something inside me that night. I never got the money back. Pa abandoned me to the bandits, and Silas and Seraphina were gone. I curled up on my cot, trying to breathe through the pain. The tent flap opened. I looked up, hope flaring in my chest. Silas? It wasn’t him. It was Gideon, the aerialist. He’d been captured too but managed to slip away. He looked at me, saw the hope die in my eyes, and scowled. “Stop it, Wren. He’s not coming. You’re such a fool. Stop pining after that cold-blooded snake. Can’t you see? He only has eyes for Seraphina.” Gideon hated my sister. He called her a siren, a creature who lured men to their doom. My chest ached. I forced a smile, but tears leaked out anyway. Gideon’s expression softened into pity. “Are they back?” I asked. Gideon nodded. He looked like he wanted to stop me. “Wren, don’t go out there…” I didn’t listen. I limped toward the main tent. Before I even entered, I heard laughter. The scene inside froze the blood in my veins. Seraphina sat on her velvet chair like a queen. Silas was on one knee before her, tenderly cleaning a small scratch on her hand. When I walked in, Seraphina’s eyes narrowed. “Silas,” she purred, “show me your skin. The scales.” She was talking to him, but she was looking right at me. I went cold. Silas was deeply ashamed of his condition. He hid his skin under long sleeves and high collars. He only showed it when he felt safe, when he felt loved. Please, no, I prayed. But he did it. He rolled up his sleeve, revealing the dark, shimmering patches of hardened skin that looked like obsidian stars. Seraphina smirked. But the moment his skin brushed hers, her face twisted in uncontrollable revulsion. I saw it. Silas saw it. My heart broke. Not for me, but for him.

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