Category: English

The spotlight at the concert’s song request segment danced between me and my boyfriend, Ethan, then settled right on me. I clutched the diamond ring in my pocket. It was the signal I’d pre-arranged with the organizers. During the request segment, I was going to propose to Ethan. I held the mic, looking at Ethan beside me. Just as I was about to speak, he snatched the mic right out of my hand. Then, he turned and handed it to Ashley, his assistant, who was sitting beside him. “This is Ashley’s first concert, Keira. Why don’t you let her have the song request?” Before I could agree, Ashley had already picked a love song. Ethan started applauding. I forced a bitter smile. Ethan didn’t know this was the last chance I was giving us. I’d planned it all out: if the proposal failed, I’d leave this city. The singer on stage paused for a few seconds, awkwardly cleared their throat, and started warming up the crowd again. My best friend, Louise, was already fuming. “What’s wrong with Ethan? Last time you guys went to see the New Year’s fireworks, he brought Ashley. Your birthday party? Ashley was there. And now the concert?” Louise stopped mid-sentence. “Keira, I didn’t mean it like that… don’t take it the wrong way.” I gave a weak laugh. She wasn’t wrong. Ethan really did bring that assistant, Ashley, everywhere, always claiming it was “to handle work stuff whenever needed.” Louise lowered her voice: “Everyone’s already at the restaurant, the balloons are all set up. And then Ethan pulls a stunt like this, it’s driving me crazy!” She paused, “So, are we still waiting for him?” I forced a smile. “Louise, no need to wait.” My fingertips touched the diamond ring box in my pocket, pressing painfully against my skin. One carat. I’d spent ages choosing the style. Back then, while Ethan was napping, I’d wrapped a string around his ring finger three times, then took it to the jeweler to get the size right. For today, I’d contacted the concert organizers two months in advance and recorded a three-minute video. Eight years of memories, all our friends recording heartfelt messages. The very last frame was me, looking into the camera, saying those words. I’d recorded it seventeen times, just to get one where my smile wasn’t shaky. Ashley’s chosen song ended, and applause erupted, mixed with enthusiastic whistles. It seemed everyone assumed she and Ethan were a couple. Ethan turned to glance at me, as if just noticing I wasn’t clapping. “What’s wrong?” I said it was nothing. When the concert ended, the crowd surged out. He walked beside me, naturally reaching out to cup my shoulder, shielding me from the crush of people. “Still sulking? Is it really that big a deal, just a song request?” He looked down at his phone, texting, his tone casual. “I’ll book a private venue for you sometime. You can pick as many songs as you want.” “Sometime,” “next time,” “later.” His three go-to excuses. “Ethan.” I stopped. He didn’t, walking a couple more steps before turning back. “We agreed. Eight years, you’d give me a commitment. It’s been eight years now.” He stuffed his phone back into his pocket, glanced at me, and smiled. That familiar “here we go again” smirk. “What’s the rush? I’m juggling a bunch of projects right now. Once the new year settles, I’ll properly plan our wedding.” New year, another postponement. He’d said the same thing three years ago. That was the first time I’d brought him home to meet my parents. The plane tickets were already booked. The day before we were supposed to leave, his secretary said there was an urgent bid they had to rush. He canceled the tickets. Back then, he’d said, “What’s the rush? Meeting your parents is bound to happen sooner or later.” I flew alone, carrying two thoughtful presents. My mom asked where he was, and I just smiled, saying he had an urgent business trip. The car pulled into the driveway and stopped. He turned, his thumb gently brushing my earlobe. The touch was light. “I’ll buy you that bracelet you liked tomorrow, as an apology. How about it?” I tilted my head, avoiding his hand. He froze. “Ethan, stop trying to smooth things over. I don’t need it anymore.” Ethan raised an eyebrow, hitting the steering wheel. “Alright, you’re upset again. Go get some sleep, you’ll feel better tomorrow.” He then glanced at his phone, muttering to himself, “Ashley says she left something at the concert, I’ll go back and help her find it.” I calmly nodded. “Okay.” I got out of the car. Closed the door. He stared at me from the driver’s seat for two seconds, seemingly sensing something was off. But then his taillights flashed, and he drove out of the neighborhood.

I went upstairs alone. Walking into the living room, his jacket was draped over the back of the sofa, the faint scent of cedarwood still clinging to the collar. The sliding door to the balcony was half open. A line of words was carved into the railing. He’d used his keys to carve it the day we moved in, crooked and messy, even scraping a small strip of paint off the railing. “Keira, one day I’m going to marry you.” Back then, he’d just secured his first round of funding, full of youthful vigor, and had spun me around in the empty living room. “Once I build my career, I’ll give you the most magnificent wedding.” I believed him. And waited eight years. The first year, he said the company was just starting, wait a little longer. The third year, he said they were in an expansion phase, he couldn’t get away. The fifth year, he said it would be soon, definitely next year. The eighth year. I stood on the balcony, my fingertips tracing the carved words. The peeled paint had already developed a thin layer of rust. The ring box in my pocket was hurting me so much. I took it out and opened it. The one-carat diamond shimmered in the faint light filtering in from the living room. I couldn’t wait for him to propose, I thought. So, I would. I’d spent three months preparing, mustering all my courage. Contacting the organizers, recording the video, ordering the ring, troubling Louise and our friends to decorate the celebration restaurant. And all I got to do was touch the mic. The lock clicked. I quickly put the ring back. Ethan walked in, tossing his car keys onto the shoe cabinet. He raised an eyebrow when he saw me staring at the carving on the balcony. “What’s so interesting? Come on, let’s go to bed.” I didn’t move, just asked him, “Did you find Ashley’s thing?” “Yeah.” He walked past me, starting to unfasten his watch. “Ethan,” I called him. “Let’s break up.” His movements stopped for a beat, then he let out a scoffing laugh. “You’re going to get like this over a song request at a concert?” “It was her first time seeing a live show, what’s wrong with letting her have it?” “Am I not allowed to have any other women around me besides you?” His tone was helpless. “Alright, I already said I’d book a private venue for you next time. Go to sleep, I have to meet investors tomorrow.” With that, he continued towards the master bedroom. I watched his retreating figure and spoke calmly: “There’s a party at the Walsh family home next week. Something will be announced publicly.” “After that announcement, we’re done.” Ethan stopped, turned around, and leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Keira, let me be clear.” His tone switched from nonchalant to cold. “I won’t fall for your family trying to pressure me into marriage.” “Are you that desperate to get married?” “What do you mean ‘we’re done’? Are you threatening me? Or playing hard to get?” I didn’t reply. He didn’t know this party had nothing to do with him. The Walsh family was announcing that I was giving up my heir apparent status to join an eight-year national-level confidential project. From then on, I would live under an assumed name, never appearing in public. The party was the Walsh family’s official statement to the world. To let everyone know that Keira, as a person, was no longer to be watched or her whereabouts questioned. But he, of course, assumed I would always revolve around him. His temper flared, his voice dropping, which made it more intimidating than a shout. “What crazy ideas have your friends put in your head now? Does it have to be this year? Right now? Do you have any idea how busy I am?”

Busy, he certainly was. Too busy having 40-minute “work FaceTimes” with Ashley late at night. Too busy remembering Ashley’s coffee order, but he’d forgotten I was allergic to shrimp. Too busy having a balloon wall set up for Ashley’s birthday, and posting “Happy Birthday to our team’s youngest!” on Ins. His time, his thoughts, his attentiveness – they all had a destination. It just wasn’t me. “I’m in the final stretch of a project right now, I have three sets of investors to meet by the end of the year, and I can’t afford any missteps.” He rubbed his temples. “Why are you pulling all this now? What exactly do you want?” “Just calm down and think about what you’re doing.” He threw out his words and turned to leave. “Ethan.” He stopped. “Yes, I am playing hard to get.” I looked at his back. “So, will you marry me?” Ethan didn’t turn around. He was silent for a few seconds. “Get some good rest.” He walked into his study and closed the door. A layer of bitterness spread in my heart. Even though I knew the answer, I still asked the question. Perhaps, after eight years of my youth, I still couldn’t completely let go. But this was the last time. Late at night, I sat on the edge of the master bedroom bed and pulled open the nightstand drawer. A stack of papers lay quietly inside, their edges yellowed and curled. Two years ago, I’d printed them out, screenshot by screenshot, from online wedding inspiration boards: venues, floral arrangements, invitation fonts, vow templates. That day, I’d excitedly brought them to show him. He was on the phone, mouthed “I’ll look later,” and waved his hand at me. Two years had passed, and that “later” never came. My phone vibrated. Louise’s voice was still indignant: “They’ve taken down all the restaurant decorations. Keira, the concert thing, the more I think about it, the angrier I get. You prepared for three months, and he just… ” “Louise, it’s fine. I’m leaving anyway.” The other end was silent for a long time. “Are you sure? Eight years of feelings, and another eight years if you go. When you come back… everything will be different.” “Yes.” “You’re not even going to explain it to him?” “Louise, there’s nothing left for me to say to him.” Louise didn’t speak again. After a while, her voice grew thick with emotion. “I’ll keep the restaurant banner then, just in case… ” “Louise.” “Hmm.” “Throw it away.” Day four of the silent treatment. Ethan left early and came home late every day, heading straight for his study. Occasionally, we’d bump into each other in the living room; he’d look at his phone, I’d watch TV, neither of us saying a word. Under the same roof, we were like two estranged roommates. Louise, seeing I was in low spirits, dragged me out for dinner. “Don’t wallow. I booked a private room, you can cry or curse all you want.” We arrived and sat down. Before the food even came, laughter drifted from the next private room. It sounded very familiar. Louise’s face changed. “Maybe we should switch… ” I shook my head. Ashley’s soft voice came through. “Ethan, I still feel terrible about the concert. The mic was for Keira, and I was so thoughtless.” “Maybe I should apologize to Keira myself?” “What does it have to do with you?” Ethan’s voice was flat. “I gave it to you, you just took it.” He’d defended her in front of an entire table of people. Yet, when I used to visit his company, he would always deliberately keep his distance, saying there was “too much gossip.” One friend curiously pressed, “But Ethan, I heard Keira had something planned that night?” A brief silence. “I knew she was going to propose. Someone tipped me off over a month ago.” Ethan’s voice was still nonchalant. Louise looked up at me sharply. I clenched my fists.

“You knew, and you still gave the mic to Ashley?” The friend was clearly surprised. “What else was I supposed to do? The more she tries to corner me into making a statement like that, the more I refuse to let her get her way.” “Usually, when she throws a fit, I’ll humor her. But with something like marriage, I need her to learn that throwing a fit won’t always get her what she wants.” The friend sighed. “But seriously, Keira’s been with you for eight years, it’s understandable she’d be eager for a title.” Ethan was silent for a few seconds. “Of course I’ll marry her, but not because she’s forcing me.” “When I marry her is up to me.” Another friend lowered their voice. “Honestly, Ethan, Keira just loves to make a scene. She always has to go for a big spectacle, making things difficult for you.” “Exactly. Ashley is so much more sensible and hassle-free, she never gives you any trouble.” Ashley spoke up, her voice a little coy. “Oh, don’t say that about Keira… maybe she just loves Ethan too much.” “After all these years, she’s not getting any younger.” That last sentence, “after all these years,” carried just the right amount of pity in her tone. Ethan said nothing, and a shared laugh of understanding rippled through the room. Louise’s hand reached over and tightly gripped mine. Her fingertips were trembling. I patted her hand, picked up my bag, and stood up. “Louise, let’s go.” I pushed open our private room door and walked past theirs. The sound of clinking glasses and Ashley’s sweet laughter drifted out. It was drizzling outside. The streetlights flickered on, one after another, illuminating a long, wet road. I walked forward, not looking back. The invitation to the Walsh family banquet arrived in Ethan’s hands. The wording was formal: “The Walsh family cordially invites you to an important family announcement.” He flipped the invitation over, flicking it. “Important family announcement.” Ha. The Walsh family had some connections in the circle, hosting a respectable banquet to publicly announce their daughter’s engagement, forcing him to compromise in front of everyone. Keira wouldn’t do something like this, but her best friends and Keira’s parents might. Ethan carelessly set the invitation aside and opened his phone. Five days. Keira hadn’t sent him a single message. In past arguments, she’d usually find an excuse to contact him by the third day, asking if he’d eaten or if his jacket had been dry-cleaned. This time, nothing. An inexplicable irritation welled up in his chest, but he forcefully suppressed it. He wasn’t worried. She could throw her fit. She was always the one to back down in the end, wasn’t she? His friends discussed in their SnapChat group: “Ethan, are you, the groom-to-be, going to the Walsh family engagement party? Lots of people have received invitations, it’s quite the affair.” He scoffed, typing, “Yeah, I’ll go. Just a little late. Let her feel what it’s like to be waiting anxiously.” He imagined Keira waiting for him at the banquet, repeatedly looking at the door, trying to maintain her composure under the gaze of friends and family. He even felt a hidden sense of satisfaction. She needed to learn a lesson. After all this fuss, he’d still be the one to sort things out. On the day of the banquet, he didn’t rush out. First, he got a haircut and changed into a dark gray casual suit. Not formal attire, he wanted everyone to see that he was “just dropping by,” not part of their plan. Messages from his friends started coming in rapidly. “Ethan, the Walsh family’s setup is huge! Two rows of cars parked outside, flower arrangements everywhere.” “Keira is all made up today, absolutely beautiful.” Another added, “Keira’s looking… Ethan, if you don’t show up soon, I’m afraid someone might steal your wife!” The group chat exploded with laughter. He looked at the messages, a corner of his mouth twitching unconsciously. In his suit pocket was the invitation. He’d picked it up after reading it, not even realizing he’d carried it with him. A friend urged again, “Ethan, are you coming or not? Things are starting here, Keira’s parents are on stage!” He slowly started his car and replied with a voice message: “What’s the rush? What’s the point of starting if I’m not there?” His car had just pulled out of the parking lot. Another friend called, his voice clearly puzzled: “Ethan… the Walsh family party doesn’t seem to be an engagement. It’s a farewell party.”

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I made ninety-nine calls. My brother, Caleb Reed, lay in the emergency room. He had a rare blood type, and only my husband, Nathaniel Thorne’s, private medical facility’s blood bank had a matching supply. Every call went unanswered. Finally, his phone went straight to voicemail. At 3 AM, Caleb stopped breathing. I knelt in the hallway, my hands still stained with his blood, when my phone screen lit up—Nate Thorne’s assistant had sent me a photo. In the picture, Nate was embracing his assistant, kissing her hair, with a fervor in his eyes I’d never seen in our three years of marriage. Her name was Sophia Smith. She was his first love, the student he’d funded for ten years, “the only woman he ever wanted to marry” in his diary. And I? I was just a stand-in who resembled her, a free, top-tier private physician, used to prolong Sophia’s life. The next day, he rushed back, apologizing while holding me: “Evelyn, my phone fell in the water, I didn’t see your calls.” I didn’t make a scene. I just smiled and handed him two documents. He signed them without even looking. He didn’t know they were divorce papers.

Evelyn Reed POV I had just finished a surgery. I peeled off my gloves, wearily rubbing my temples. As the youngest Associate Director of Urology at a top New York hospital, I was long accustomed to high-intensity work. The moment I pushed open my office door, a jacket with a familiar perfume scent was draped over my shoulders. Nate Thorne stood behind me, holding a lunchbox, his eyes so tender they could drown you: “Evelyn, did the surgery go well? Did you skip lunch again?” For three years, Nate had doted on me, making me the envy of every socialite in New York. He would cancel transnational meetings to be with me when I worked night shifts. If I casually mentioned “wanting to see the ocean,” he’d charter a private jet that very night to take me to Los Angeles. He respected my profession, even donating an entire urology research center in my name. Aside from the fact that during intimacy he always preferred to hold me tightly from behind, insistently demanding I repeat his name and never close my eyes, he was almost a perfect husband. I once believed I was the luckiest woman in the world. Until three days ago, when my younger brother, Caleb, suffered acute renal failure complicated by cardiac arrest. That day, New York was hit by a rare torrential downpour. I knelt outside the emergency room, my hands covered in Caleb’s blood, trembling as I dialed Nate’s number. Caleb had a rare blood type, and only Nate’s private medical facility’s blood bank had a matching supply. I made ninety-nine calls. Every single one was cut off. Finally, his phone went straight to voicemail. Caleb stopped breathing at 3 AM. I didn’t even have the strength to cry, sitting stiffly outside the door like a shell drained of its soul. My phone screen lit up. It was a photo from Nate’s personal assistant. Perhaps an accident, perhaps intentional. In the picture, the streets of San Francisco were bathed in bright sunshine. Nate had shed his suit, wearing a casual white shirt, tightly embracing a woman in a white dress. Her face was buried in his chest, and Nate, head bowed, was kissing her hair. The fervor in his eyes, the relief of having something lost finally found, was something I’d never witnessed in our three years together. The woman’s name was Sophia Smith. She was Nate’s first love, and the student he had funded for ten years. The cold draft in the hallway chilled my thin dress to the bone. I repeatedly zoomed in on the photo, meticulously examining every detail, suddenly feeling a wave of nausea. I leaned against the wall, dry-heaving. So that was it. He wasn’t busy. He was simply with the woman he truly loved. Nate returned to New York the day after Caleb’s funeral. He pushed open the front door and saw me sitting on the sofa, noticeably thinner, with sunken eyes. I saw a flicker of panic in Nate’s eyes. He hurried over, pulling me into his embrace, his voice thick with self-reproach: “Evelyn, I’m so sorry. There was an emergency at the San Francisco branch; I flew over immediately. My phone fell in the water and broke. I couldn’t be with you for Caleb’s funeral, and it’s all my fault.” He kissed my forehead, his tone humble: “You can hit me, yell at me, whatever you want, any compensation, I’ll give it to you.” I didn’t struggle, letting him hold me. My face rested against his expensive shirt, and I caught a faint scent of rose perfume that wasn’t mine. It was Sophia’s favorite scent. It felt like a piece had been brutally gouged from my heart, a pain so profound it left me numb. I calmly pushed him away, took two documents from my bag, flipped to the last page, and handed him a pen. “Nate, I just need you to sign these two documents.” Nate exhaled in relief. Without even glancing at them, he signed his name on both papers. “Evelyn, what’s mine is yours. Forget signing; I’d give you my life.” He smiled, touching my stomach. “You’ve been throwing up a lot lately. Are you having stomach issues? I’ll take you to the hospital for a check-up tomorrow.” I looked at the signed documents, my eyes devoid of all emotion. “No need,” I stood up, my voice as light as a whisper, “I’ll go by myself.”

Evelyn Reed POV The next morning, I went to the hospital alone. Not to my urology department, but to obstetrics and gynecology. On the ultrasound report, a tiny gestational sac was securely implanted. Four weeks. This was Nate’s and my child. For three years of marriage, Nate had been meticulous about birth control. He said he couldn’t bear for me to suffer through childbirth, wanting a few more years of just the two of us. This unexpected pregnancy was because of his birthday a month ago; he’d gotten drunk and uncontrollably made love to me all night. I sat on a bench in the hospital corridor, holding the report, my hand gently resting on my flat abdomen. If Caleb were still alive, if I hadn’t seen that photo, I would probably be excitedly throwing myself into Nate’s arms right now, telling him the good news. But now, I only felt a bitter irony. My phone vibrated. It was Nate calling. “Evelyn, are your tests done? I’ll come pick you up.” His voice was still gentle. Before I could speak, a delicate female voice suddenly came from the other end: “Nate, I can’t find my medicine…” Nate’s breathing hitched, and he immediately covered the mouthpiece, but I still caught his hushed cooing: “Don’t worry, it’s in the second drawer on the left. I’ll be right there.” When he spoke to me again, his tone held a hint of urgency: “Evelyn, there’s an emergency company meeting. Can you go home by yourself? Be careful.” “Okay.” I hung up abruptly. I didn’t go home. Instead, I went to Nate’s private apartment downtown. It was Nate’s forbidden territory, cleaned only by trusted hourly workers. I had never interfered with his privacy before, but today, I used a spare key Nate had casually left in his car to open that door. The apartment was spotless, arranged warmly and full of a lived-in feel. I pushed open the bedroom door, and my whole body froze. The walls were covered with photos of Nate and Sophia. From high school to college, from innocent to mature. In every photo, Nate’s smile was so unrestrained, a vivacity I had never seen in him. The dresser was laden with Sophia’s favorite rose perfumes; the closet held custom-made dresses in Sophia’s size. My hands trembling, I pulled open the nightstand drawer. Inside lay a thick diary and a stack of medical records. The name on the medical records was Sophia Smith. Diagnosis: Congenital renal insufficiency. My breath caught in my throat. As a urologist, I was all too familiar with this condition. I opened the diary, Nate’s handwriting stinging my eyes. “Sophia got married and moved to San Francisco with that man. She said she didn’t want to burden me. How could I ever resent her?” “I met a woman named Evelyn Reed. She wore a white coat, and in some ways, she resembled Sophia. More importantly, she was the best urologist in New York.” “I married Evelyn Reed. I funded a research center for her, established a dedicated fund. As long as her team could achieve this medical breakthrough, Sophia would be saved.” “Every day, I hold Evelyn Reed, closing my eyes and imagining the person in my arms is Sophia. Only then can I endure the nights without Sophia.” The last page of the diary was dated three days ago. “Sophia got divorced, and her illness flared up. I flew to San Francisco to pick her up. I just need her to be alive.” *Smack!* The diary fell to the floor. I covered my mouth, gasping for air, tears scalding as they hit my hand. So that was it. No wonder he always held me from behind. No wonder he poured money into my research. No wonder he never let me into his private circle. I wasn’t a wife; I was just a free, top-tier private physician who resembled his first love. I wasn’t even a stand-in; I was just a tool he meticulously cultivated to save Sophia! I laughed, my body shaking, tears streaming down my face. I stood up, stumbling down the stairs, preparing to leave. Suddenly, my foot slipped, and I tumbled headfirst down the stairs, hitting each step with brutal force. The moment my body slammed against the steps, a tearing pain erupted in my abdomen. With my years of medical experience, I instantly realized my baby might be in danger. Panic flooded my heart. I clenched my teeth against the dull pain throughout my body, pulled out my phone, and dialed 911. My consciousness began to fade amidst waves of agonizing pain.

Evelyn Reed POV After being rushed to the hospital, I was immediately pushed into the emergency room. Doctors quickly began resuscitation and hemorrhage control. Cold examination instruments probed my body, each touch pulling at the searing pain. I bit my lip, feeling the dull ache of life draining from within me. As a doctor, I’d seen countless deaths, but when the knife cut into my own flesh, that tearing sensation almost ripped me apart. After a long and grueling rescue, the devastating news finally came: the baby couldn’t be saved. Half an hour later, supported by a colleague, I walked out of the emergency treatment room, my face pale. I refused my colleague’s help and went home alone. The empty mansion was cold as an icebox. I swallowed two painkillers, forced myself to drag a suitcase from the storage room. I packed up all the jewelry and custom-made dresses Nate had bought me, contacted a luxury consignment shop, and sold them off that very night. Looking at the suddenly empty walk-in closet, I felt like I could breathe easier. At ten o’clock that night, Nate returned. He brought in the cold air with him, holding a cake from my favorite restaurant. “Evelyn, I’m home. The meeting ran late today; you must be starving, right?” He changed his shoes, intending to embrace me. I turned away, my gaze falling on the faint smudge of lipstick on his shirt collar. “I’m not hungry.” My voice was flat, without a hint of emotion. Nate paused, seemingly noticing my coolness. He put down the cake, walked over, and forcibly took my hand, his brows furrowed: “Why are your hands so cold? And you look so pale. Are you sick?” “No,” I pulled my hand away, “Just a little tired.” Nate sighed, his eyes full of helpless affection: “Are you still mad at me for not making it back for Caleb’s funeral? Evelyn, don’t be difficult. The dead can’t be brought back. You still have me. It’s the weekend tomorrow, I’ll take you out to clear your head, okay?” He was always like this, using the gentlest tone to say the cruelest things. Caleb was dead, and in his mouth, it was just “the dead can’t be brought back.” I looked at his handsome face, suddenly feeling utterly estranged. “Nate,” I called his name, “Tomorrow night, the department has a get-together. I won’t be home.” A flicker of guilt crossed Nate’s eyes, but he quickly concealed it: “Okay, don’t drink too much, and come home early.” He especially wanted me not to be home, so he could go be with Sophia. The next evening, I didn’t go to the department dinner. I put on elegant makeup to conceal my post-miscarriage pallor and went to a Michelin-starred restaurant. This was the address Nate’s assistant had inadvertently revealed over the phone. I pushed open the slightly ajar private room door and, through the gap, coldly watched the scene inside. Nate had taken off his suit jacket and was patiently peeling a shrimp. He dipped the peeled shrimp into a sauce and naturally fed it to the woman beside him. Sophia, in a white knit sweater, looked pale, exuding a sickly fragility. She took the shrimp from Nate’s hand, her eyes slightly red: “Nate, am I just a burden? I’m divorced, and now I’m sick. I can only come back to you…” “Don’t talk nonsense.” Nate’s voice was dripping with tenderness, laced with undisguised heartache. “Your return makes me happier than anyone. I’ll find a way to treat your illness. New York has the best urology specialists; I’ll make sure she cures you.” “But you’re married,” Sophia bit her lip, tears threatening to fall, “Won’t Evelyn be angry if she knows about me?” Nate scoffed, his tone chillingly indifferent: “She doesn’t need to know. She’s just a doctor. She took my money, so she should do her job well. Once your illness is cured, I’ll give her a sum of money and send her away.” Outside the door, I clutched the doorknob, my nails almost digging into my flesh. Though I had long guessed the truth, hearing him say those words shattered my heart like a sledgehammer, making every breath taste of blood. “Give her money and send her away?” I silently repeated the phrase to myself. Nate, you think you control everything, but you don’t know, I stopped wanting you a long time ago. I didn’t storm in to confront him. I took out my phone and snapped a photo of their intimate backs in the private room. Then, I turned and walked into the night. Soon. Just twenty more days, and I would leave him. Then, I would give him a big surprise.

Evelyn Reed POV My body was severely weakened after the miscarriage. After performing two surgeries back-to-back at the hospital, I almost fainted at the washbasin. The head nurse lovingly held me: “Dr. Reed, you’ve looked so pale lately. Mr. Thorne cares about you so much, why doesn’t he get you some tonics to help you recover?” I forced a smile, saying nothing. Nate had been “very busy” lately. Busy finding a kidney donor for Sophia, busy accompanying her to dialysis, busy holding and comforting her when she cried in pain. He hadn’t been home for three consecutive days. Each time I called, his assistant answered, always with the same excuse: “Mr. Thorne is in a transnational video conference.” I changed out of my white coat and walked out of the hospital entrance. A black Maybach was parked by the roadside. Nate leaned against the car door, a cigarette between his fingers, looking somewhat fatigued. Seeing me, he immediately stubbed out the cigarette and quickly walked over, pulling me into his embrace. “Evelyn, you’re off work. Things have been too hectic at the company these past few days; I’ve neglected you.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead, the gesture as practiced as a ritual. I caught the strong scent of disinfectant on him. It wasn’t the smell of our hospital; it was the scent of Sophia’s private hospital. “It’s fine,” I said flatly, pushing him away. “Let’s go home.” The atmosphere in the car was heavy. Nate tried to strike up a conversation several times, but I deflected him each time. As we passed a newly opened restaurant, Nate suddenly slammed on the brakes. “This restaurant’s desserts are famous; I remember you used to love them. Shall we go down for a bite?” Nate looked at me, a hint of pleading in his eyes. I looked at the restaurant, feeling a wave of nausea. Sophia had posted its location on Ins. “I’m not hungry.” “Just a little bit. You’ve lost too much weight lately.” Nate unbuckled my seatbelt directly, half-forcing me out of the car. The restaurant’s lighting was dim, and the atmosphere intimate. Nate ordered a table full of dishes, all light and bland. He solicitously pushed the food towards me, as if returning to his role as the perfect husband. Just then, a waiter approached, carrying a fresh pot of hot soup. Perhaps the floor was slippery; the waiter tripped, and the entire pot of scalding soup splashed directly towards Nate and me. “Watch out!” In a split second, Nate sprang to his feet. I thought he would protect himself as he always had. But Nate’s body instinctively lunged to the left—where Sophia, who had just returned from the restroom, was standing. Nate shielded Sophia tightly in his arms, his back to me. “Splash!” Most of the scalding soup landed on my lower leg. “Ah!” I gasped in pain, collapsing back into my chair. Through the thin fabric of my pants, my skin instantly turned bright red, blistering in large patches. The piercing pain made me break out in a cold sweat. Meanwhile, Nate was anxiously cradling Sophia’s face, examining her up and down: “Sophia, did you get burned? Are you uncomfortable anywhere?” Sophia had only a few drops of soup on her skirt, but she was visibly shaken, her face pale, clinging to Nate’s sleeve, trembling: “Nate, I’m scared…” “Don’t be scared, I’m here.” Nate cooed softly, his eyes filled with urgency. The waiter repeatedly apologized, bringing ice and towels. I gritted my teeth, rolling up my pant leg myself. The shocking redness and blisters alarmed the people around us. Only then did Nate suddenly snap back to reality. He turned, saw my lower leg, and his pupils constricted. “Evelyn!” He released Sophia, intending to check my injuries. “Don’t touch me!” I violently swatted his hand away, my eyes as cold as ice. Nate’s hand froze in mid-air, his face grim. He looked at the trembling Sophia, then at me, drenched in cold sweat, and gritted his teeth: “Evelyn, just put some ice on it for now. I need to take Sophia to the hospital first; she’s not well and can’t handle shocks. I’ll be right back to pick you up!” With that, he unhesitatingly scooped Sophia into his arms and strode out of the restaurant. I sat there, watching their retreating backs, and suddenly let out a low laugh. I laughed until tears streamed down my face. The pain in my leg was nothing compared to the agony in my heart. I was a doctor; I knew perfectly well that Sophia hadn’t been hurt at all. I had suffered second-degree burns. But in Nate’s eyes, a single strand of Sophia’s hair was more important than my life. I didn’t wait for Nate to return. I took a cab to the hospital myself, saw to my own treatment, cleaned the wound myself, and endured the excruciating pain of having the blisters clipped. I didn’t take any anesthetic. I wanted to remember this pain. Remember the pain Nate had given me.

Evelyn Reed POV I was admitted to the hospital’s burn unit. The burn on my leg was extensive, and coupled with my weakened state after the miscarriage, I developed a high fever. In a daze, I felt someone wiping my forehead with a warm towel. The touch was light, carrying a cautious, almost pleading, gentleness. I opened my eyes and saw Nate’s bloodshot eyes. “Evelyn, you’re awake?” Nate’s voice was hoarse, his hand shaking slightly as he held mine. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know your burn was so severe. After I took Sophia to the hospital yesterday, I came back for you, but you were already gone…” I looked at him coldly, as if at a stranger. “Is Sophia okay?” I suddenly asked, my voice hoarse. Nate paused, seemingly unprepared for my question, and his eyes darted away: “She’s fine, just a little shaken.” “Is that so?” I forced a smile, a trace of mockery in my voice. “Being shaken requires you to stay with her all night? Nate, you truly disgust me.” Nate’s face instantly turned ashen. He abruptly stood up, trying to explain: “Evelyn, listen to me. Sophia has a severe kidney condition; she can’t handle any stress. It was just an instinctive reaction at the time…” “Instinctive reaction?” I cut him off, my gaze as sharp as a knife. “Your instinct was to abandon your wife, scalded by hot soup, to embrace a woman who was completely unharmed. Nate, don’t use her illness as an excuse; you simply don’t love me.” “No, that’s not it!” Nate desperately refuted, taking a step forward to embrace me. “I love you, Evelyn, I truly do. Sophia is just like my sister; my care for her is purely out of responsibility…” “Enough!” I violently swatted his hand away, pointing towards the door. “Get out. I don’t want to see you.” Nate stood frozen, his face ashen. “Okay, I’ll go out. You get some rest; I’ll come back later to see you.” Nate conceded, turning and walking out of the ward. The moment the door closed, I shut my eyes, a single cold tear tracing a path down my cheek. For the next few days, Nate stayed by my side in the hospital like a madman. He canceled all his work, personally feeding me, wiping me down, and changing my dressings. He humbled himself to dust, trying to atone for his mistakes in this way. But I remained silent, treating him as if he were invisible. On the fifth day, the ward door opened, and Sophia walked in. She wore a patient gown, her face pale, carrying a fruit basket, looking utterly pathetic. “Dr. Reed, I’m so sorry.” Sophia walked to the bedside, her eyes red. “It’s all because of me that you got such serious injuries. Nate has been taking care of you these past few days; he feels terrible. Please don’t be mad at him, okay?” I leaned against the headboard, coldly watching her performance. “Sophia, your acting is quite good,” I said, my voice flat. “It’s a shame you’re not an actress.” Sophia’s face stiffened, then she bit her lower lip, tears falling: “Dr. Reed, I know you hate me. But Nate and I really have nothing going on; we’re just like siblings who grew up together. Please don’t let me ruin your marriage.” “Siblings?” I scoffed. “Do siblings plaster each other’s photos all over their bedroom? Do siblings fill their diaries with declarations of love for each other?” Sophia’s face instantly turned deathly pale. She looked at me in disbelief, clearly not expecting me to know so much. “You snooped in Nate’s diary?” “That’s my husband’s home. Why shouldn’t I look?” I looked at her, my eyes disdainful. “Sophia, you’re truly pathetic. You think Nate loves you? If he truly loved you, why didn’t he marry you back then? He married me, using my professional expertise to save your life. In his eyes, you’re nothing more than a beggar in need of charity.” This remark struck Sophia’s sore spot with precision. She lunged forward, grabbing my wrist, her voice sharp: “You’re lying! Nate loves me! You’re just a stand-in!” My leg injury hadn’t healed. Her sudden tug made me gasp in pain. I forcefully shook Sophia’s hand off: “Get away from me!” Sophia, seizing the opportunity, stumbled backward and fell heavily to the floor, letting out a cry of pain. “Sophia!” The ward door was violently flung open, and Nate rushed in. Seeing Sophia on the floor, he scooped her into his arms. “Nate, I’m in so much pain…” Sophia clutched her stomach, cold sweat beading on her forehead. Nate’s head snapped up, his gaze fixed on me, filled with anger and disgust: “Evelyn Reed, are you insane? She’s a patient! If anything happens to her kidney, I swear I won’t let you off!” I looked at his murderous expression, and my heart died completely. “Fine,” I said to him coldly. “Nate, I’ll be waiting.”

Evelyn Reed POV Sophia was rushed to the emergency room. The look Nate gave me before he left was as if he were looking at an enemy. Silence returned to the ward. I sat quietly on the hospital bed, watching the yellowed leaves outside the window being carried away by the autumn wind, feeling an unusual sense of peace. No anger, no grievance, only a kind of liberation. Two hours later, Nate’s assistant pushed open the ward door. He looked at me with a complicated expression and handed me a document. “Mrs. Thorne, Mr. Thorne said… Miss Smith’s condition has worsened, and she urgently needs a kidney donor. Your blood type and various indicators are a high match with Miss Smith’s. Mr. Thorne hopes you can… donate a kidney to Miss Smith.” The assistant’s voice grew softer and softer, almost inaudible by the end. I looked at the “Organ Donation Consent Form” and suddenly laughed out loud. My laughter echoed in the empty ward, tinged with boundless desolation and mockery. “He wants me to donate a kidney?” I pointed to myself, tears streaming down my face from laughter. “Does he know I just had a miscarriage? Does he know my leg burns haven’t healed? He wants me to save his mistress?” The assistant lowered his head, not daring to meet my eyes: “Mr. Thorne said that if you agree, he is willing to transfer thirty percent of the company’s shares to you and guarantees that he will never have any inappropriate contact with Miss Smith again.” “No more contact?” I scoffed as if I’d heard the biggest joke. “He means he wants to trade my life for Sophia’s!” I grabbed the consent form and, in front of the assistant, tore it into shreds. “Go back and tell Nate that if he wants my kidney, it will be over my dead body.” The assistant sighed and silently backed out. That same night, Nate came. He looked utterly exhausted, with a five o’clock shadow on his jaw. He walked to the bedside, looking down at me, his tone carrying an unquestionable command. “Evelyn Reed, Sophia can’t wait. You can live with one less kidney, but she’ll die without it.” I looked into his eyes, as if at a monster. “Nate, do you think that because I loved you, I deserve to be trampled on?” My voice was soft, but full of disappointment in him. “When my brother died, you were with her. When I was pregnant and you drove me to a miscarriage, you were with her. When I was scalded by hot soup, you were still with her. Now, you even want to take my kidney to save her?” Nate’s eyes flickered with a hint of panic, but it was quickly masked by cold ruthlessness: “Miscarriage? When were you pregnant? Why didn’t you tell me?” “What’s the use of telling you?” I sneered. “Evelyn Reed!” Nate roared, suddenly grabbing my shoulders. “Don’t be unreasonable! Sophia’s illness can’t be delayed! You’re a doctor, are you just going to let her die?” “I am a doctor, but I am not your tool!” I forcefully broke free from his grip, pointing to the door. “Get out! I never want to see you again in my life!” Nate stared at me, his eyes terrifyingly sinister. “Evelyn Reed, don’t be stubborn. In New York, I have ways to get you onto that operating table to donate a kidney.” He flung those words at me, then turned and strode away. I sat on the bed, trembling, my hands gripping the bedsheets tightly. I knew Nate’s words were real. He had money and power; if he truly went mad, I wouldn’t be able to resist. I had to leave. Immediately. I pulled out the IV needle from the back of my hand, gritting my teeth against the searing pain in my leg, and changed into my clothes. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number hidden at the very bottom of my contacts. “Ethan Miller, it’s me. Arrange for me to go to San Francisco. As soon as possible.” The other end was silent for two seconds, then a deep male voice replied: “Okay. See you at the hospital’s back entrance in half an hour.” After hanging up, I looked at the ward that had held me captive for seven days, turning to leave without a single trace of nostalgia. Nate Thorne, it’s completely over between us. I will never look back at you again.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “409062”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

I was kidnapped 99 times by my husband Caleb Hayes’s enemies. The hundredth time, I cut my ropes and escaped home, just wanting to fall into his arms and cry. But at the door, men’s and women’s clothes were strewn across the floor. The tie I’d given him for our anniversary was draped over a piece of sexy lingerie. From the bedroom, Willow Fairmont’s voice drifted out. “Caleb, you have Mia kidnapped every time you want to avoid taking her out, and then you sleep with me. What exactly is she to you?” Through the crack in the door, Caleb’s low chuckle echoed. “What can Mia compare to you? She doesn’t even have a high school diploma. She’s too embarrassing to bring out.” “Besides, even if she found out, what could an orphan with no money or power do?” I froze, my blood running cold. It turned out that every single kidnapping over the past five years had been orchestrated by him. But he didn’t know that my billionaire parents had just reconnected with me three days ago. Mia POV I was kidnapped 99 times by my husband Caleb Hayes’s enemies. During the 100th kidnapping, I used a small knife hidden in my shoe to cut the ropes and escape. Stumbling and scrambling to my feet, my first thought was to go home. Caleb must be frantic, searching for me. But when I opened the door, what I saw were men’s and women’s clothes scattered from the entryway into the living room. Among them was the tie I’d given Caleb for our fourth wedding anniversary. Draped over the tie was a piece of sexy lingerie. My mind went blank, and my breath hitched. I stiffly walked toward the bedroom, the intimate sounds growing clearer as I approached. “Caleb, every time you need a date for a public event, you have Mia kidnapped and send me in her place. I’m the one you’re sleeping with, so who’s really your wife? Aren’t you afraid she’ll find out?” “Or is it that Mia just can’t satisfy you?” The voice belonged to Willow Fairmont, Caleb’s former arranged marriage partner, and supposedly his enemy. Yet now, despite her provocative words, her tone was clearly triumphant. Then, Caleb’s husky, satisfied voice came from behind the half-closed door. “What can Mia compare to you?” “Her embarrassing appearance at her first formal event cost me a major project and made me a laughingstock for a year.” “Business is war, and the woman by a man’s side reflects his capability. I can’t have a woman without even a high school diploma standing beside me. She just lacks the refinement I need.” “Besides, even if she found out, what could she do?” Caleb sounded supremely confident. “She’d never give up the status of Mrs. Hayes now.” “I only have her kidnapped because I’m afraid she’ll make a scene if she knows. It’s a hassle.” Willow chuckled. “Then why not just drug her? We could even do whatever we want while she’s incapacitated. Wouldn’t that be more exciting?” “Drugging her…” Caleb mused for a moment, then replied lightly, “Drugging her would be too harsh on her body. Kidnapping is more straightforward.” He laughed, teasing, “What, are you jealous? Want a title? How about being my mistress?” “You think you qualify as my lover?” Willow wasn’t offended. “Don’t forget who called me a bitch and then crawled into my bed.” “Yes, I fell first. From the first time I saw you, I was captivated.” “Willow, I’ll tell them to keep Mia for a few more days… will you stay with me for another week?” The atmosphere grew increasingly intimate, and I couldn’t bear to listen anymore. I fled from what, just a second ago, had felt like my safest haven. I ran faster and faster, but my leg injury, still not fully healed from a previous kidnapping, flared up. With a thud, I fell into the mud from the recent rain, splattering myself from head to toe. My elbow scraped raw, leaving me utterly disheveled. “Don’t cry.” I bit down hard on my lower lip, forcing myself to hold back the tears. “Mia, there’s nothing to cry about!” From childhood, when I was homeless with no parents, I didn’t cry. When I was robbed of food and beaten on the ground, I didn’t cry. Every time I fell, I never cried. I shouldn’t cry now either. But tears welled up uncontrollably. It turned out that all my suffering over the past five years had been inflicted by Caleb. From the first kidnapping, I was pushed from a third-story window, breaking my leg. During the second kidnapping, I was so traumatized that I miscarried the baby I was carrying, making it impossible for me to conceive again. The third kidnapping left me with claustrophobia. I nearly suffocated. By the 99th kidnapping, I was suffering from severe PTSD. I was terrified of strangers, the dark, ropes. Any small fright would send me into trembling fits and make me vomit. At my worst, I spent three months in the hospital, surviving only on IV drips, unable to eat anything. My stomach churned. Even though I was safe now, the illness struck, and I couldn’t stop dry heaving. I began to sob softly, then burst into uncontrollable tears. It was as if I needed to release all the love I had for Caleb. It started twenty years ago, when I was six and saved a dying Caleb. We scavenged for food together, hid from human traffickers, and then entered the same orphanage. When I was in tenth grade, the orphanage closed, and we ended up on the streets. Our teacher said Caleb’s grades meant he had a good chance of getting into a prestigious university like Harvard. I couldn’t bear for him to miss a life-changing opportunity, so I started working to support his education. During our poorest times, I gave him all my money, surviving on instant noodles once a day for three months. Caleb watched me waste away, his eyes red as he promised, “Mia, I will give you the best life possible.” His promise was fulfilled in another way. After graduating from Harvard, the Hayes family found him. Still with grease stains from the kitchen on my pants, I was brought by Caleb to their opulent mansion. The Hayes family was extremely displeased with me, threatening Caleb with disinheritance if he didn’t break up with me. “Who are you to be his wife?” Caleb immediately took me to register our marriage. “My Mia deserves all the best things in the world. I can disown myself from your family, but I will only marry her in this lifetime.” So, when Caleb said he was worried I’d be kidnapped by more enemies and therefore never appeared with me in public or in the media, I understood. No matter how much pain I suffered because of him, I never blamed him. But I failed to notice that Caleb had changed long ago. From the first formal event I attended, where, unaccustomed to high heels, I was intentionally tripped, and a champagne tower spilled all over me. I became a laughingstock. But that wasn’t my last public embarrassment. Some people laughed because I didn’t understand French and deliberately taught me to insult myself in the language. They mocked my cheap food, called my name old-fashioned, and covered their noses, saying I smelled. I endured it. I thought as long as Caleb didn’t find me embarrassing, it didn’t matter. But now, his heart belonged to another woman. All that was left for me was deceit and pain. If that’s the case, then I don’t want him anymore. I don’t want our twenty years together. Wiping away my tears, I stood up and borrowed a stranger’s phone to call his mother. “As you wish, I agree to divorce Caleb.”

Mia POV Afraid I would change my mind, she demanded I come sign the divorce papers the next day. “You don’t need to worry about Caleb. Don’t tell him about this. Just wait a month until the divorce is finalized, and then leave immediately.” “And of course, you won’t get a penny.” I had no objection. No sooner had I hung up than a Maybach screeched to a halt on the roadside. Caleb got out of the car and strode quickly to my side, not caring about the dirt on me as he hugged me tightly. “Mia, I was so worried about you!” He held me as if he wanted to absorb me into his body, his voice trembling with obvious urgency. In the past, every time I was rescued, I only felt safe in his arms. But now, as I smelled Willow’s perfume on him, I only felt revulsion and a chill throughout my body. “Worried about me?” My voice was cold. “Were you really worried?” When he laughed about having me kidnapped for a few more days, was he worried about me, or was he savoring Willow’s kiss? Caleb keenly sensed I was different from usual, assuming it was just because I was traumatized. When he saw the scratches on my hand, his expression changed. “How did you hurt your hand? Did you get injured while escaping? Does it hurt?” “I’m sorry, it’s my fault. I failed to protect you again. Don’t be afraid, we’re going home.” Without waiting for my answer, Caleb picked me up and placed me in the car. Less than an hour later, the mansion was spotless, with no trace of another woman. After applying medicine to my wounds, Caleb was about to hold me and sing my favorite songs repeatedly, as he had the ninety-nine times before. But I refused his touch. “I want to be alone today.” Caleb paused but didn’t seem to suspect anything. The next morning, after signing the divorce papers, I went to the orphanage to sort things out before my departure. After Caleb brought me back to the Hayes family, I gradually used my savings to build an orphanage. Even when my condition wasn’t suitable for work after being kidnapped, I continued to serve as director, personally managing its affairs. But now that I was leaving, I needed to arrange for the children’s future. The vice-director was the best candidate. We grew up in the same orphanage, and I trusted her character and ability. Things were a bit sudden, but Chloe eventually solemnly promised not to let me down. “Mia, you’re leaving? Where are you going?” I shook my head. “I don’t know, I just want to live in a different city.” “Are you going with Caleb? I still remember when he was ten, someone wanted to adopt him, but he clung to you and refused to leave, saying he couldn’t be separated from you.” I paused, not answering. But Caleb had changed. Once a person changes, all their past promises mean nothing. Now, I just wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Chloe was about to say something else when a girl suddenly rushed into the office, smiling and bowing to me. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you personally. I got an internship at Hayes Corporation. If Mr. Hayes hadn’t given me an interview opportunity because of you, my qualifications would have surely been screened out at the resume stage.” I was a bit taken aback. “An interview?” Chloe explained, “You didn’t know? Caleb has actually been helping you all along.” “Not just with the internship. Last month, when you were hospitalized, a girl who had been abandoned was taken back by her parents. If Caleb hadn’t intervened, that girl would have been sold to Southeast Asia. Several children in the orphanage who needed surgery, he connected us with hospital specialists and paid for their treatments.” “Yes, yes!” Lily, the girl next to us, chimed in. “Mr. Hayes cares so much about you! He’s been secretly donating to the orphanage and said you weren’t well and he didn’t want you to worry too much about the place.” “He said he would prepare everything for you.” I was stunned for a long while. In the five years since returning to the Hayes family, Caleb had not truly gained his parents’ approval or real power within the company. Therefore, I wouldn’t trouble him with my own affairs. Even during the early days of establishing the orphanage, when funds were scarce, I never asked for his money. It turned out Caleb had done so much behind my back. But then I thought, what else had he hidden from me?

Mia POV After spending a week completing the handover, I returned to the mansion with a complicated heart, only to see Willow standing in my room. She held a lighter, using it to set fire to a stuffed doll. “What are you doing?!” My face instantly drained of color. I ran over, snatched the doll, and extinguished the flames with my bare hands, but it was too late. The cloth doll, once ignited, burned quickly. Even with my desperate attempts to save it, only a few charred cotton remnants and shredded fabric remained. This doll was the only thing I had carried with me during my homeless days, and my only connection to my birth parents. I had carefully preserved it for twenty years, and now it was gone, just like that. “How dare you destroy my property?!” Willow, however, merely chuckled dismissively. “Oh, I thought it was just some trash.” “You’re getting so worked up over a piece of garbage. How can you be Caleb Hayes’s wife and still be so common?” “Did you get addicted to picking up trash when you were a kid?” I frowned. “What nonsense are you talking about!” The commotion attracted Caleb and Willow’s mother, but before they reached us, Willow suddenly slapped herself. By the time I realized what she was doing, Willow had completely changed her expression, her face a mask of grievance as she rushed into her mother’s arms, who had just entered the room. “Mom, Mia suddenly lost it and slapped me because of a broken doll.” Willow’s mother’s gaze instantly turned icy. “Caleb, are you trying to insult us? My daughter finally forgave you for breaking off your engagement, and now you let her suffer such humiliation? Do you still want our families’ collaboration to continue?” Caleb’s face darkened. “Mia, what are you doing? Apologize at once!” The blisters on my hand from the fire stung, and I gritted my teeth. “Apologize for what? Can’t you see this blatant setup? I didn’t hit her; she burned my doll!” “You know that doll was the only thing my parents left me!” Willow, her eyes red and swollen with tears, said, “I’m sorry, Mia. That doll was so tattered, I thought it was garbage. I didn’t know what it meant to you.” “But your parents didn’t want you, and keeping that doll won’t make them want you now.” Her words completely infuriated me. I bristled, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, and lunged forward, wanting to slap Willow’s provoking face. But before I could even touch Willow, Caleb shoved me away. My head slammed directly against a table, the pain so intense that my vision blurred. “Enough, Mia! Look at where we are!” “This isn’t a big deal; why would you hit her?” Caleb’s face was grim. “Besides, is she wrong? It’s been over twenty years. If your parents really wanted you, they would have found you by now.” “Hitting someone over a broken doll. When did you become so unreasonable?” “You may not have parents to care for you, but others do! Apologize!” The man before me spoke the most hurtful words. He had personally witnessed people pinning me down, forcing me to admit I was unwanted trash. I was beaten until I coughed blood, but I never broke down. Yet, he would still, for Willow, stab a knife into my heart. And the sharpest blade, no less. I suddenly laughed. Laughed at my own foolish self-pity. He said he would prepare everything for me, secretly handling the orphanage’s problems. I had thought he at least held a little genuine feeling for me. Slap! I landed a harsh blow across Caleb’s face. Before anyone could react, I raised my hand again. Another slap! “Caleb, this is unreasonable.” My voice was ice-cold. Caleb’s face darkened, and he, too, was enraged. After all, even during his time on the streets, no one had ever hit him like that. And after five years with the Hayes family, he was no longer the orphan who had to endure to survive. “I’ve spoiled you too much, allowing your old bad habits to fester into this. You’re due for a bit of hardship.”

Mia POV Caleb locked me in the basement and didn’t even send food down. “Go reflect on your mistakes. You’ll come out and eat when you admit you were wrong.” Over the years of being kidnapped, I had developed severe stomach problems. I also had nyctophobia; I had to sleep with the lights on, or I would tremble uncontrollably. Caleb knew all this. He had seen me white-faced with stomach pain and had stayed up all night caring for me; he had cried with concern when he saw me huddled in a corner, shivering. Yet, he still did this to me because of Willow. I laughed, a truly bitter laugh. This stalemate lasted three days. On the evening of the third day, huddled in the corner, I received an audio message from Willow: “Back then, I was afraid of her rude and unreasonable personality, which is why I faked her kidnappings.” “You wouldn’t believe it, there was a girl who sent Caleb a love letter once, and Mia had her face disfigured.” “Honestly, I somewhat regret impulsively rushing into marriage with her back then.” My heart felt a dull ache, and I gritted my teeth, suppressing a surge of bitterness. Caleb only remembered me disfiguring that person’s face but forgot that the girl had deliberately pushed me down the stairs first. At the time, that girl had sent him a love letter only because she had made a deal with someone. To date him and sabotage his grades to knock him from the top of his class. I hadn’t told him these things. But it made him wrongly believe I was jealous. After he got involved with Willow, he feared I would harm her, so he chose to hurt me instead. I suddenly felt like a complete joke. As if the audio wasn’t enough, Willow continued. “Mia, that day you escaped, you heard the sounds from the mansion, didn’t you?” “Your husband plans to take me to Australia to buy a vineyard as compensation. Guess what, will you be kidnapped again?” She sent me details of all the places she and Caleb had visited over the years and what they had done. Last month, they drank wine under the Eiffel Tower. At that time, I was abandoned in a desolate area, listening to wolves howl for nights. Last winter, they went to the Southern Hemisphere to enjoy spring. At that time, I was being harassed with lewd comments by kidnappers, too terrified to sleep, clutching my clothes in fear for a week. They traveled the world. And these locations were all places Caleb and I had wished to visit together when we were kids, huddled under blankets. It turned out that the wishes two people made together could be fulfilled with someone else. While I prayed countless times for Caleb to save me from my predicament, he was gently kissing Willow, laughing so happily. The contrast was too stark; my stomach clenched physiologically, the pain making me break into a cold sweat. Eventually, I even threw up a mouthful of blood. I fainted. I woke up again in a hospital, with an IV drip in my arm. Caleb sat by my bed, his eyes shadowed with dark circles, clearly having stayed up all night to care for me. We looked at each other in silence. After a long time, he sighed deeply and was the first to lower his head. “Alright, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have said such harsh things. My mistake.” “But you also have to understand me. You slapped me in front of our guests; where does that leave my dignity?” “But you can’t bully Willow anymore. You’re so strong; how could a fragile young woman like her withstand your slap?” He still thought it was my fault, but I no longer bothered to explain. Whether he believed me or not, it didn’t matter anymore. Seeing my silence, Caleb thought I was still angry. He took my hand and coaxed, “Alright, don’t let this affect our relationship. Your birthday is in two days. For the past few years, you were either kidnapped or I was busy, so we never celebrated properly. This year, how about I take you to your favorite restaurant for your birthday?” I pulled my hand away, closed my eyes, and said nothing. There were still twenty days until the divorce was finalized. Just twenty more days to endure. On my birthday, a driver picked me up and took me to a private dining room at a restaurant. After sitting down, it wasn’t Caleb who arrived. “Well, well, isn’t this Caleb Hayes’s little… woman? Why are you alone? Did Caleb leave you lonely?” I looked over; it was Victor Thorne, a business partner of Caleb’s. He seemed to have been drinking, his face flushed, as he steadily advanced towards me. I immediately realized his intent, and my scalp tingled with dread. “What are you doing? Get away! Or I’ll call for help!” My threat had no effect. He lunged at me, pinning me to the ground with one hand and fumbling with my clothes with the other. “Blame your husband! He’s ruined my plans too many times. Today, I’m going to make him taste what it’s like to have his wife humiliated!”

Mia POV “Let go! Let go of me!” “Help!” I struggled, landing a punch on Victor’s face, which completely enraged him. His eyes were vicious, and he clamped his hands tightly around my throat. “You want to die, don’t you?!” A sudden wave of suffocation washed over me. He really intended to kill me, and I couldn’t break free. Gradually, I lost my strength. Just as I despaired, the private room door was kicked open. The next second, Victor was yanked up by Caleb, his fists smashing into bone with increasing force. Caleb’s voice was as cold as ice. “Who gave you the guts to lay a hand on my person?!” Caleb was in a frenzy, his eyes blazing with a terrifying crimson. After dealing with Victor, he carefully took off his jacket and draped it over me, his hands shaking as he held me. “Mia, are you okay? It’s over, I’m here.” Tears streamed uncontrollably from my eyes. I tried to say something but passed out. When I woke up, it was night. The marks on my neck had been treated with medicine. Caleb stood a short distance away, talking on the phone. “Mom, Dad, I will press charges against Victor. Even if you object, even if it jeopardizes our collaboration with his family and costs the company, I will make him pay.” “I can’t let Mia be wronged.” On the phone, his parents vehemently opposed him, but Caleb was no longer listening to them as he usually did. His mother, furious, blurted out, “Mia is about to divorce you! Are you still going to jeopardize the company’s development for her?” My heart skipped a beat at her words. Caleb frowned. “Mom, what are you talking about?” “I told you, even if Mia can never have children, I will not divorce her.” “She only has me now.” With that, he hung up the phone. Seeing me open my eyes, he walked to the bedside, his coaxing voice so gentle it could melt ice. “You’re awake? Does anything hurt?” “It’s okay; the bad guy has been dealt with. No one will hurt you again.” My throat was terribly sore, and I couldn’t speak for a moment. “Throat hurts? Here, the doctor said drinking this medicine will help.” Caleb held the medicine and personally fed it to me. For a moment, I was lost in a haze, feeling as if I had returned to the days when we relied on each other. “Oh, right, I prepared a birthday gift for you.” After feeding me the medicine, Caleb pulled out a beautifully wrapped gift box. Inside was a thick gold bangle, with roses carved all around its surface. “You always said you’d buy gold when you had money. It’s a bit late, and I didn’t expect tonight to turn out like this, but… happy birthday, Mia.” He put the gold bangle on my wrist, held my hand, his expression sincere. “I hope my Mia is always happy and joyful.” I was speechless. If it had been before, I probably would have been moved to tears. Moved that he remembered my casual remark. But this gift came truly too late. My throat injury wasn’t severe enough to require hospitalization. Back home, I collapsed from exhaustion and fell asleep. I woke up in the middle of the night due to discomfort in my throat and got out of bed to get a glass of warm water. Passing Caleb’s study, I overheard him talking on the phone with his lawyer friend. “Caleb, I didn’t realize you’d sacrifice your own wife to get revenge for Willow.” “But your plan was brilliant: drug Victor, make him lust after Mia and sexually harass her, then you swoop in as the hero, taking the moral and legal high ground to punish him.” “After this incident, the Thorne family is doomed, and he’ll never dare to offend Willow again.” I was stunned, my blood freezing in my veins. “But why didn’t you let Willow handle Victor herself? With the Fairmont family’s connections, Victor could have gotten a harsher sentence.” Caleb frowned. “That method, while effective, carries risks.” “Victor is quite strong, and Mia has been good at fighting since she was a child, so she wouldn’t truly be harmed. Unlike Willow; she’s never even gotten a scratch since she was little, how could she endure a beating?” “Aren’t you afraid your wife would get hurt? No matter what, she’s still a woman. Victor was so brutal then, what if…” Caleb pressed his lips together, and there was a moment of silence. After a while, he spoke softly: “But what you said didn’t happen, did it? Mia has always been strong. A few injuries are nothing. A little hardship, and I can compensate her.” “Besides, Mia offended Willow a few days ago, so this was a good opportunity to make amends to her.” “Willow is different.” His voice carried a note of preciousness. “She’s a princess; how could I bear to let her suffer any hardship?”

Mia POV Outside the door, I felt as if an invisible hand was squeezing my throat again. I rubbed my dry eyes. Looking at the gold bangle on my wrist, I smiled bitterly. So, this was compensation. So, resisting his parents to sue Victor wasn’t for me after all. In his eyes, what was I? Injured, but it wouldn’t hurt; wronged, but it was nothing. I meant nothing at all! Even though my heart ached, I was already numb. I didn’t rush in to confront him; I just quietly returned to my room. During my recovery, Caleb cared for me meticulously, except when he was at work. Meanwhile, I began to deal with the things Caleb had given me. I sold the gold bangle and all the luxury items Caleb had given me, converting everything into cash and depositing it into the orphanage’s account. With fifteen days left until the divorce was finalized, Caleb took me for a follow-up check-up at the hospital. Willow came with us. “I need a check-up, too. Caleb, can you give me a ride on the way? Mia, you don’t mind, do you?” Without waiting for my answer, she opened the car door and sat directly in the front passenger seat. Caleb frowned slightly. “You should sit in the back. It’s not appropriate for you to sit in front.” Willow pouted. “Oh, is that Mia’s exclusive seat? But I always sit in the front passenger seat. Otherwise, I won’t go.” “Mia, do you mind if I take your seat?” I ignored her and got into the car. Willow paused for a moment, then smiled. “See? Even Mia doesn’t care. Caleb, I don’t care, I’m sitting in the front.” On the way, the car was filled only with Willow’s sweet, delicate voice. Caleb, however, responded distractedly, constantly checking me in the rearview mirror. “Mia, what do you want to eat after your check-up? Should I cook for you personally?” “Whatever.” Caleb was about to say something else when Willow suddenly reached into his suit pocket and exclaimed. “Caleb, so my lipstick was here all along! No wonder I couldn’t find it.” “It must have fallen in when you slept over at my place, I wasn’t careful.” Her words were intimate, and Caleb instinctively looked at me, but I showed no reaction. He hastily said, “Mia, I stayed overnight at Willow’s house to discuss a project; it wasn’t for any other reason. Don’t misunderstand.” Willow also smiled and explained, “Yes, Mia, there’s no way anything could happen between Caleb and me. Even though we’re collaborating now, he and I will always be enemies.” I heard the provocation in her words. I could foresee that if I hadn’t discovered the truth about the kidnappings, if we hadn’t divorced, then scenes like today, designed to cause ‘misunderstanding,’ would play out countless times in the future. Once I questioned Caleb, I would be labeled as an unreasonable, crazy woman. But I didn’t want to be a crazy woman. “Understood.” Caleb saw my cold reaction and was about to speak when suddenly, BAM! Our car was rear-ended directly by a large truck. Through the rearview mirror, I saw the driver was Victor Thorne, who had escaped. “Caleb Hayes, you want to send me to prison, you want to ruin me, right? Then let’s die together!” His eyes were savage, and his car sped wildly, clearly intending to take us all down with him. Just as we were about to collide with the vehicle ahead, Caleb swerved the steering wheel sharply. Our car slammed into the roadside barrier, and Victor’s truck careened into the opposite lane, crashing into a large concrete barrier. Victor died instantly. A dull pain exploded in my abdomen. In the second before I lost consciousness, I saw Caleb quickly shield Willow beneath him. When I regained consciousness, I felt as though my internal organs had shifted. The immense pain made every breath feel like torture. “Caleb, I’m in so much pain.” Willow’s face was covered in blood, and she cried piteously. “I’ve lost so much blood; am I going to die?” “But I don’t want to die…” I saw Caleb tightly holding her hand, hooking his pinky finger to promise, “No, you won’t. I won’t let you die.” Beside me, there was no one. All three of us were injured. Caleb’s injuries were the lightest, and he could still walk. Willow and I, however, were both lying on stretchers. Nurses rushed over after checking our blood. “Doctor, both patients are O-negative, but the hospital blood bank is out of O-negative blood. It’ll take at least half an hour to get emergency blood delivered.” The doctor frowned. “That’s too long.” Caleb quickly stepped forward. “I’m O-negative; I can donate blood to them.” “Doctor, he’s also injured. We can’t take too much. Right now, it’s only enough for one patient.” “Which one first?” The doctor pointed at me. “Give Mia the transfusion first. Willow can still speak and can wait for the blood to arrive. But Mia has lost too much blood. If she doesn’t get a transfusion soon, she’ll die.” At these words, Willow clung to Caleb, her wails suddenly escalating. “Caleb, I hurt! Save me! I feel like I’m going to die!” I strained against my heavy eyelids. I felt myself teetering on the edge of death. Only Caleb was familiar in this chaos; I wanted him to hold me. I wanted to say I was scared, I was so cold. And I hurt, too. But I didn’t even have the strength to speak. In the silence, my eyes met Caleb’s. I also saw him hesitate, then point at Willow. “Save her first.” The doctor tried to persuade him further, but Caleb insisted, “It’s my blood. I say who gets saved first. Otherwise, I won’t donate.” In that instant, I stopped myself. I didn’t want to say anything. It was pointless. In Caleb’s eyes, I was no longer important. It was a good thing I didn’t love him anymore. I would never love him again in this lifetime. After a brief stalemate, the doctor didn’t dare wait any longer. She told Caleb to get ready while urging the nurses to rush the emergency blood delivery. That day, waiting for the blood, I felt like I was going through all the pain I’d ever experience in my life. Every breath tugged at the wound in my abdomen, every tiny movement hurt so much it made my vision blur. I could hear Caleb constantly encouraging Willow. I wanted to cry, but my tears seemed to have dried up along with my blood.

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I was ten minutes late to the movie theater, stuck in the pouring rain and unable to get a ride. I quickly apologized to my boyfriend, Liam Walker. He impatiently said, “What’s the point of apologizing?” I froze. Every time I apologized, he never forgave me. I’d pulled three all-nighters working non-stop and forgot to snag concert tickets for him. He coldly pulled his hand away from mine. “What’s the point of apologizing? You can’t even handle a simple task.” I accidentally stained his favorite white shirt, and he flew into a rage. “What’s the point of apologizing? This is my favorite shirt!” But when his intern, Chloe Davis, spilled coffee and ruined his proposal, he didn’t get angry. Instead, he wiped her tears. “You don’t need to apologize. It hurts me to see you cry.” Watching him get angry now, I finally let go of our seven-year relationship. I was tired. From now on, I wouldn’t apologize anymore. I was drenched, rain trickling from my hair onto the carpet. Liam didn’t even glance at me. He walked straight to the VIP lounge. His intern, Chloe Davis, was sitting there. She held two steaming cups of coffee in her hands. Seeing Liam, she immediately broke into a sweet smile, then nervously peered past him. “Liam, isn’t Alice here yet? Should I not have come to drop off these files? Am I interrupting something…?” Her voice, not far away, reached my ears perfectly. Liam naturally took the coffee. “She’s late. Someone with no sense of time doesn’t deserve to be on a date.” “But the movie’s about to start…” “Since you’re here, take this ticket and watch it with me.” Liam’s tone was flat, as if he were talking about the most ordinary thing. I froze. That wasn’t just any movie ticket. To qualify for this exclusive limited-time premiere, I’d pulled three all-nighters, doing the entire marketing and publicity campaign for the organizers for free. All because Liam had casually mentioned, “I really wish I could see it on the big screen just once.” I used to think this movie would be a milestone in our seven-year relationship. But now, he had casually handed my hard work over to an intern he’d only had for three months. I took a deep breath, choking back the bitterness in my throat. Squelching in my rain-soaked heels, I walked step by step towards them. Hearing my footsteps, Liam turned sharply. When he saw it was me, his brows furrowed instantly. He instinctively shielded Chloe behind him. His eyes were filled with undisguised defensiveness and disgust. “Alice Linwood, if you dare make a scene here, we’re over.” “Alice, please don’t misunderstand, I just came to drop off some urgent files…” Chloe cowered behind him, her eyes instantly welling up with tears. I didn’t cry, nor did I question him. I simply took the two tickets from my bag and handed them over. Liam was stunned. He looked at my expressionless eyes, his frown deepening. “What game are you playing now?” “Nothing.” I slipped the tickets into his coat pocket, my voice as soft as the wind. “Liam Walker, enjoy the movie.” With that, I didn’t hesitate for a second. I turned and walked out of the cinema. Until the glass doors closed behind me. I could still feel his incredulous gaze. He probably couldn’t fathom it. The Alice Linwood who loved him so much she lost herself. Why today, there wasn’t even an apology after the fact.

Outside, the heavy rain continued. I didn’t carry an umbrella, letting the icy rain pour over me. My body, exhausted from three days of non-stop work, was wracked with painful stomach cramps. As I passed a flooded intersection, a delivery scooter ran a red light and skidded violently. The handlebars slammed hard into my side. I was thrown through the air, crashing hard onto the asphalt road. Excruciating pain swept through my entire body. The delivery guy was terrified and repeatedly apologized. I was in too much pain to speak, only able to tremble and wave my hand, signaling him to go. Rainwater mixed with mud seeped into my wounds, making me shiver uncontrollably. I lay in a puddle, my vision blurred. Instinctively, I fumbled for my phone and dialed the pinned number. Seven years. It was my reflex. When in danger, when wronged, Liam was the first person I’d call. The phone rang for a long time. Just as it was about to go to voicemail, it connected. “Liam, I was hit by a car…” “Alice Linwood, haven’t you caused enough trouble?” Liam’s voice was low, filled with barely suppressed anger. “Did you time this perfectly to ruin the mood?” “Do you have any idea the movie just got to the most touching part? Chloe was crying because it was so moving!” “Do you seriously have to use this pathetic stunt to guilt-trip me right now?” I opened my mouth. Rainwater poured into my mouth, bitter and acrid. The severe pain in my side made it almost impossible for me to make a sound. But I could still faintly hear the end credits rolling on the big screen from his end of the call. That was the Easter egg I’d shamelessly begged the organizers to add, just to get the tickets. At the very end of the acknowledgments, there would be a small line of text: [To Liam Walker: Our seventh year. May you always swim free like a fish in the deep blue sea. – Alice] I had imagined that when that line appeared, I’d be leaning on his shoulder, listening to him tell me he loved me. Instead, he was sitting in that very seat, with another girl by his side. He didn’t even have the patience to glance at the screen, only caring about wiping away someone else’s tears. “Speak up! Are you mute?” Liam’s patience completely ran out. “I’m warning you one last time, drop the spoiled princess act.” “When I get home, I expect you to apologize to Chloe. You really scared her today.” The call was mercilessly cut. I looked at the black screen and suddenly laughed. A raw, gut-wrenching sound, tears mixing with the rain as they streamed down my face. It pulled at my wounds, making me gasp from the pain, but I couldn’t stop. It felt like a ball of cotton was lodged in my throat. I painfully dragged myself out of the muddy water, limping back home. But the Alice Linwood who always carefully tried to please him. She had died in that downpour.

Pushing open the door, the house was silent. I groped my way into the bathroom in the dark. The person in the mirror was disheveled and pathetic. The bruise on my side was swollen and purple, and the slightest movement sent a sharp, stabbing pain through me. I found the first-aid kit, and trembling, I pressed an iodine swab to my knee. The keypad lock clicked open at the entrance. Followed by Liam’s deliberately lowered, gentle voice: “Watch your step. You can sleep here tonight. I’ll find someone to fix the leak in your dorm tomorrow once the rain stops.” “But, Alice will be angry if she sees me…” Chloe’s voice was timid. “What right does she have to be angry?” Liam sneered. “There’s no way I’d let you stay alone in an apartment with no power.” The overhead living room light flared on, filling the room with blinding white light. Liam walked in, one arm around Chloe, the other carrying her duffel bag. He turned his head and saw me, slumped on the bathroom floor. The curve of his lips instantly vanished. His gaze swept over the bloody swab, his eyes filled with disgust. “Alice Linwood, what kind of stunt is this now?” He walked over, towering above me. “I wondered why you hung up so fast. Turns out you were cooking up some grand scheme at home.” “You dabbed on some antiseptic, made a huge mess, and you think that’s going to make me feel sorry for you?” Antiseptic. The heavy rain outside had washed away the blood on my body. Seeing my silence, Liam grabbed my arm and forcefully pulled me up. His hand clamped down hard on my bruised side. A jolt of excruciating pain shot through my brain. My legs gave out, and I collapsed back onto the floor. “Ah!” Chloe flinched back in fear. Liam abruptly let go, as if touching me for another second would contaminate him. “Alice Linwood, haven’t you made enough of a scene?!” “Chloe’s been startled and got wet from the rain. Do you have to give her grief right now?” I was covered in cold sweat, trembling from the pain. He clearly saw that I was drenched. But he only felt pity for Chloe getting wet. “I’m not making a scene.” Clutching the doorframe, I shakily pulled myself up, my voice hoarse. “I just accidentally fell.” Liam paused for a moment. Perhaps my lifeless gaze made him uneasy. “Good. Go change the sheets in the master bedroom. Chloe has a fever; she’ll sleep in there tonight. You can sleep in the guest room.” That sentence, like a dull knife, severed our last remaining connection. The master bedroom contained the bed I’d chosen, the custom-embroidered pillows with my name, all my personal belongings. Now, he wanted me to give it to another woman. “That’s my room.” I looked at him. “This is my apartment!” Liam pointed to the front door. “If you feel so wronged, then get out now! Don’t stand there bothering me!” Chloe tugged at his sleeve, her eyes brimming with tears. “Liam, I can just sleep on the couch…” “Don’t mind her. She just doesn’t know her place!” Liam squeezed her hand reassuringly. A sweet, metallic taste filled my throat. I didn’t cry, nor did I argue. I turned, dragging my aching leg, and walked into the master bedroom. From behind me, Liam let out a cold snort: “See? If you’d just listened earlier, you wouldn’t have to make such a fuss.” I pulled out the black suitcase from under the bed. I didn’t change the sheets, didn’t tidy the room. I only took my documents, a change of clothes, and my work laptop. Seven years of my youth, it weighed so little. A small suitcase couldn’t even fill it. When I walked out dragging the suitcase, Liam was pouring Chloe a glass of water. Seeing the suitcase, his pupils contracted sharply, then he let out a sneering laugh. “What? Can’t sleep in the master, so you’re playing the runaway game?” He walked towards me, blocking my path. “Alice Linwood, you tried that three years ago. Do you think I’ll chase after you and beg you to come back?” He pointed to the stormy rain outside. “If you’ve got the guts, then get out today.” “If you step foot out that door, even if you beg on your knees, I won’t let you step foot in this apartment again!” My fingers gripping the handle were white, and my legs were so sore I could barely stand. “Okay.” Without a second’s hesitation, I walked past him and pulled open the front door.

I don’t know how long I walked before my phone vibrated in my pocket. The screen lit up. It was a text from Liam: [I canceled your joint credit card. If you don’t have money for a hotel, stop being dramatic and come back to apologize.] I looked at the words on the screen and gave a stiff, humorless smile. That card was for buying our future home. For seven years, I’d faithfully deposited my entire salary into it every month. In his eyes, it was all his money. He could cut off my livelihood at any time, just to force me to yield. I didn’t reply. I immediately blocked his number, pulled out the SIM card, and tossed it into the gutter by the road. Along with it went seven years of my youth, utterly wasted. It was two in the morning. Gritting my teeth, half-dead, I checked into the emergency room at City Hospital Two. The ER doctor held up my X-ray, his brows furrowed in a tight knot. “A comminuted fracture of the right scaphoid bone, and severe soft tissue contusion in your lower back.” “Why did you wait so long to come in for your hand?” The doctor glanced at my medical record. “You’re a concept artist, aren’t you? Your finger joints show long-term strain from holding a pen.” “You need surgery for steel pins immediately, or else this hand won’t even be able to lift heavy objects in the future, let alone hold a pen.” I was drenched, sitting on the cold plastic chair, my mind blank. I was a concept artist. My right hand was my life. “Doctor, please schedule the surgery.” My voice was horribly hoarse. “Go pay the fees. A twenty thousand dollar deposit.” I took the paper and walked with difficulty to the payment window. I searched all my pockets and found only an old payroll card, not linked to Liam. Balance: thirteen hundred dollars. This month, to get those two exclusive movie tickets for Liam, I’d used up all my savings, even overdrafting my food money for next month. I clutched that thin bank card tightly, suddenly feeling despair. I pulled out my phone, wanting to ask someone for money. Scrolling through my contact list, I realized how pathetically barren my life was. To accommodate Liam’s schedule, I had canceled all my social engagements and outings. My closest friend, Chloe Davis. She was currently lying in my master bedroom, sleeping in my bed. At twenty-seven years old, I was homeless, penniless, and nearly an invalid. “Are you going to pay or not? There are others waiting behind you.” The cashier impatiently tapped on the glass. I stiffly stepped aside. Leaning against the pale hospital wall, I slowly slid down, squatting on the floor. I buried my face in my knees, a broken laugh escaping my throat. I trembled with laughter, tears splashing onto the muddy floor. It was too ridiculous. Alice Linwood, you truly live like a joke. Just as I was laughing so hard I could barely breathe. The harsh fluorescent light overhead was suddenly blocked by a shadow. “Alice.” The voice was familiar, yet filled with an undisguised tremble of panic and concern. I slowly lifted my head. Ethan Reed stood before me, breathless. He must have just come from a business function, but his hair was wet with rain. “I was just in the neighborhood for a project, and I saw someone who looked a lot like you walking in the rain…” He crouched down, his gaze falling on my right wrist and my blood-stained knees. His eyes immediately reddened. “What have you done to yourself?” I looked at him, opened my mouth, but no sound came out. The nerves that had been taut all night. Upon hearing that long-lost concern, they completely snapped. My vision went black, and I lost consciousness. In the last second before I passed out, I faintly heard Ethan’s furious roar: “Doctor! Help her!” Meanwhile. New York, our old apartment. Liam Walker stood by the floor-to-ceiling window. Looking at the overwhelming downpour outside, he impatiently tugged at his tie. Half an hour. Alice Linwood hadn’t cried and knocked on the door in the hallway as usual. Nor had she sent any begging texts. “Liam…” Chloe Davis, wearing Alice’s silk pajamas, walked over timidly. “Alice went out so late, will she be okay? Maybe you should call and check?” “What could happen? She has no money, and I canceled that joint credit card.” Liam snorted, his voice certain. “Don’t worry about her. The rain’s so heavy outside, she’ll come crawling back, crying and begging me to open the door, in less than half an hour.” He turned and walked towards the couch. His gaze suddenly caught something on the table, tucked under a glass. It was the velvet ring box he’d bought for his proposal next month. And next to the box, a set of keys lay quietly. Alice Linwood’s apartment keys. Liam’s heart suddenly, inexplicably, skipped a beat.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “409058”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

When the rogue attacked, my Fated Mate, Alpha Jackson, shielded Phoebe without even a glance my way. My son, Thomas, clung to Phoebe’s leg, screaming “bad woman” at me. In the chaos, a chilling numbness spread through me. The pregnancy test report clutched in my hand had long since fallen into a puddle. Just ten minutes ago, I thought it was just another accident. Until Alpha Jackson chose to protect Phoebe. Until my son, Thomas, shoved me, leaving me exposed to danger. It turned out Jackson’s love for me was a lie from the start. I was nothing more than a full-time nanny Jackson hired while Phoebe was away. And I had seven days left until I completely vanished from this world. Scarlett POV After the chaos subsided, the pack’s lead medic was already on site. They swarmed around Phoebe, who was hiding behind Jackson, checking on her and offering treatment. Jackson followed close behind, his brows furrowed in a tight knot. The hand wearing his wedding ring was now clasped tightly around Phoebe’s wrist. Thomas stood beside them, crying so hard his voice was hoarse, repeatedly sobbing, “Phoebe, please don’t die.” Phoebe, the Beta’s daughter who grew up with Jackson. She had only recently returned from the Werewolf Academy. Her mere presence was enough to command his full attention. I stood alone, unnoticed by anyone. The wind dried the blood on my clothes, making the fabric stiff and chafing my skin raw. My abdomen throbbed faintly where Thomas had kicked me hard. Before I could even move, Jackson suddenly turned back. His gaze, cutting through the throng of people, landed on me. It was cold, filled with impatience. “Scarlett, don’t just stand there.” He called my name, his tone like scolding an incompetent subordinate. “Phoebe’s shaken. Go back home, make her a soothing hot tea, and bring it to the hospital.” I wanted to say I was hurt too. I wanted to say my stomach ached. I wanted to say that the ruined paper showed I was six weeks pregnant. But a metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I swallowed it down. “Okay.” I heard my own voice, eerily calm. Jackson seemed satisfied with my obedience. He turned and followed the medics away. The crowd gradually dispersed. I returned alone to the Alpha’s residence in Frostveil Pack. As I walked in, Gamma Lena was pouring a pot of freshly brewed calming tea into a thermos. Seeing me enter, disheveled and covered in mud, she froze, her eyes darting away. “Luna Scarlett… Alpha Jackson called, he asked me to bring Ms. Phoebe a hot drink. He didn’t mention you were also…” She didn’t finish, but I understood. In the werewolf world, pack members must obey the Alpha’s orders. I ignored her awkwardness and went straight upstairs. Passing Thomas’s room, toys were still scattered everywhere. His favorite limited-edition wolf plushie lay alone on the rug, an arm torn off. I had queued all night six months ago to get that limited edition for him. This morning, before we left, Thomas had thrown a huge tantrum because I accidentally knocked over that toy. He pointed a finger at me and yelled, “I knew you weren’t my real mom! If it were Phoebe, she’d never ruin my stuff!” Back then, I just dismissed it as childish talk. Now, it seemed, children’s instincts were often the most accurate. He had known all along who the outsider in this house was. I went back to the master bedroom and locked the door. The bathroom mirror reflected a pale face. A scar marred my forehead, a wound from the chaos. It had healed, leaving only a small mark. I lifted a hand to touch it, feeling nothing. Stripping off my blood-stained clothes, I balled them up and tossed them directly into the trash. Along with the crumpled report, its words now illegible. The wounds on my body had already healed, but the hot water brought a fine sting as it hit my skin. I looked down at my flat lower abdomen. A tiny life had once grown there. Just hours ago, I had been overjoyed, wanting to tell Jackson the good news. Now, there was nothing. That kick had been hard. Compounded by the cold and the shock. Blood streamed down my thighs, forming winding rivulets on the white tiles, before spiraling into the black hole of the drain. I didn’t cry. I just felt tired. After my shower, my phone screen lit up. It was a message from Jackson. Just one short line: Is the soup here yet? Phoebe’s hungry. He didn’t ask if I was hurt. He didn’t ask how bad that kick had been. I stared at the screen for a long time until my eyes ached. Then, I replied: On its way. After sending that message, I pulled open the bottom drawer of my nightstand. Inside lay a one-way ticket to Europe and a bottle of mate-bond breaking potion I’d bought from Elara the Witch. I had thought I wouldn’t need them anymore. With a child on the way, I’d wanted to give this relationship another chance. But now, I was glad I hadn’t destroyed them. I took out the ticket, my thumb tracing the date. It departed in seven days. That was Jackson’s birthday, and the deadline I’d set for myself. I picked up a pen and drew a heavy circle around the date on the calendar. The countdown began.

Scarlett POV The next morning, I was woken by noise downstairs. Jackson was back. He’d brought Phoebe and Thomas with him. I stood at the top of the stairs, watching the cozy scene in the living room. Phoebe wore Jackson’s shirt, its oversized hem covering her thighs, making her look small and delicate. She sat on the sofa, a mug of warm milk in her hands. Thomas nestled in her lap, mouth open, waiting for her to feed him. Jackson sat next to them, cutting fruit. His knife skills weren’t great; the peel broke several times. But he was patient. Before, if I wanted fruit, he’d just frown and say, “Cut it yourself. I’m not your servant.” “Scarlett’s awake?” Phoebe noticed me first. She started to stand, but Jackson pressed his hand to her shoulder. “Sit still. The doctor said you’re weak, don’t move around.” Jackson’s voice was deep. When he turned to me, it immediately turned cold. “Since you’re awake, come down and make breakfast. Lena’s off today, and Phoebe wants your seafood chowder.” My fingers tightened on the railing, knuckles white. Seafood chowder. Everyone in the Pack knew Phoebe was allergic to seafood. Was he testing me, or trying to humiliate me? Or perhaps, between me and Phoebe, he simply forgot who had the allergy. “She’s allergic to seafood,” I said blandly. Jackson’s hand, cutting fruit, paused. The knife blade nicked his thumb. A bead of blood welled up. Phoebe gasped, quickly taking his hand and putting it to her lips. Jackson didn’t pull away. Instead, he looked at her with tender eyes. “Phoebe, you’re so thoughtful.” Then, he looked up at me, his eyes filled with blame. “So you got it wrong. No need for excuses. You weren’t this forgetful before.” Before? How did I live before? Every meal, I had to cater to everyone’s tastes. Jackson didn’t eat garlic; Thomas wouldn’t touch carrots or bell peppers. If even a hint of something they disliked appeared in a dish, the entire spread would be dumped directly into the trash. I remembered everyone’s preferences, yet no one remembered I didn’t eat cilantro. “Maybe I got it wrong.” I didn’t argue, turning to enter the kitchen. If he wanted his darling to drink seafood soup, I’d make it. Cleaning the lobster, chopping onions, simmering the broth. I performed each step methodically. The kitchen’s glass door wasn’t fully closed. Fragments of conversation drifted in from the living room. “Jackson, is Scarlett angry?” It was Phoebe’s voice, laced with a hint of grievance. “Maybe I should move out. I’m not as clingy as Thomas, it’s fine.” “This is my home, and it’s your home. Stay as long as you like.” Jackson’s voice was firm. “As for her, don’t worry about it. Taking care of pack members is the Luna’s responsibility. Just ignore her.” “But…” “No buts. Thomas can’t be without you. Look at him this morning, has he asked for Scarlett even once?” Thomas’s childish voice followed immediately: “I don’t want that bad woman! I want Phoebe to be my mom!” Whoosh— I turned the faucet to full blast. The water rushed over the cold ceramic bowl, washing away those grating voices. I looked down at the sink. A blank face stared back from the reflection. Before, hearing these words would have made me sad. I would have cried all night, buried under my blankets. I would have wondered if I wasn’t good enough, not gentle or considerate enough. But now, my heart was surprisingly calm. It was like watching a clumsy performance. Only laughable. Half an hour later, I carried the steaming soup pot out of the kitchen. Jackson was leaning over, feeding Phoebe freshly cut apple slices. Seeing me, he didn’t even lift his gaze. “Just put it down. Let it cool before serving.” I placed the soup on the dining table, said nothing, and turned to go upstairs. “Stop.” Jackson called out. He put down the apple, pulled a napkin to wipe his hands, and said carelessly, “Clear out your fragrance lab. Phoebe wants to use it for yoga.” My steps froze. That fragrance lab was my only private space in this house. It held my unfinished perfumes. That was my red line. “There’s a gym downstairs,” I said. “The gym doesn’t get enough light.” Jackson frowned. “Just clear it out. Why so much fuss? Your blending stuff isn’t worth anything, it’s just taking up space.” “Blending stuff.” That was my passion. It was the only thing that proved I was once a werewolf warrior with exceptional herbal talent, not just a nanny. But in the eyes of this powerful Alpha, it was just space-wasting trash. “Got it.” I heard myself say. No argument, no hysteria. Jackson seemed somewhat surprised by my obedience, but he didn’t dwell on it. He just waved me away. I went back to my room and pulled out a large black trash bag. Entering the fragrance lab. The bottle of perfume I’d spent three months blending, named “Deep Sea,” stood silently on the workbench. I picked it up. I slammed the bottle to the floor. Glass shattered, a jarring sound. My carefully blended essential oils flowed across the floor, and the scent of herbs instantly permeated the air. I scooped the shards into the trash bag, along with the essential oils, measuring cups, and droppers. Everything was cleaned up. It took less than ten minutes. The once-full room became instantly empty. Only a faint, lingering mixed scent remained in the air. There was no trace of Scarlett left here. Just like in this house.

Scarlett POV I was woken by urgent knocking. I opened the door, and Thomas stood there, holding his wolf plushie with the broken arm, a fierce look on his face. “Bad woman, who told you to touch my toy?!” He threw the plushie hard at my leg. The sharp plastic edge hit my kneecap, a piercing pain. I looked down at my son at my feet. Five years old, and he was the spitting image of Jackson. His eyes, his nose, even that entitled, bossy demeanor were identical. I remembered when he was first born, a soft, cuddly bundle. Jackson disliked his noise, never wanting to hold him. It was me, pacing the room all night, humming lullabies to get him to sleep. His first “Mama,” his first steps, his first time eating with a spoon. Every single moment, I was there with him. But from the day Phoebe returned, everything changed. Phoebe only needed to give him a piece of candy to earn a sweet “thank you.” Yet a whole meal I painstakingly prepared would only earn me a “this tastes awful!” “I didn’t touch your toy.” I bent down, picked up the plushie, and offered it to him. “You broke it yourself yesterday.” “You’re lying!” Thomas slapped my hand away. “Phoebe said you were jealous her gift to me was better than yours, so you ruined it when I wasn’t looking! You’re a wicked witch!” Wicked witch. How could a five-year-old know such a term to describe someone? No need to guess who taught him. I looked at his flushed little face and suddenly felt exhausted. I didn’t even have the energy to explain. “Think what you want.” I walked past him, heading downstairs for water. Thomas clearly hadn’t expected this reaction from me. Before, if he threw a tantrum, I’d frantically comfort him, agreeing to all his unreasonable demands. The anger of being ignored made him instantly lose control. He rushed forward and bit my calf hard. His sharp baby teeth pierced through the fabric, digging into my flesh. I gasped in pain, instinctively pushing him away. It wasn’t a strong push. But Thomas stumbled backward, sat heavily on the floor, and started to wail. “Wah—Daddy! The bad woman hit me!” The laughter downstairs ceased abruptly. Hurried footsteps approached. Jackson stormed up the stairs, saw his son crying on the floor, and me standing nearby, observing coldly. His face immediately darkened. “Scarlett, what are you doing?” He strode over, pushed me aside, and pulled Thomas into his arms. The force was strong. I staggered a few steps, my lower back hitting the stair railing, making me gasp in pain. “She pushed me! She tried to push me down the stairs!” Thomas huddled in Jackson’s embrace, pointing at me and complaining, crying crocodile tears. “I didn’t.” I straightened up, holding the railing, and looked at the father and son. “Didn’t?” Jackson scoffed, his gaze on me filled with disgust. “Thomas is only five. Does he lie? Scarlett, I never realized you were so vicious, you can’t even stand a child?” Vicious. Can’t stand. So that’s what he thought of me. Phoebe also rushed up then, her face anxious, peering at Thomas. “Did you get hurt? Let me see.” She wiped Thomas’s tears, then turned to me, her eyes full of reproach. “Scarlett, children can be difficult. You should just talk to him, why would you hit him? What if he really got hurt…” “Enough.” Jackson cut her off, standing up with Thomas in his arms. He looked down at me, as if I were a criminal. “Apologize to Thomas.” I froze. “I did nothing wrong. Why should I apologize?” “Do I need to repeat myself?” Jackson’s voice was laced with suppressed fury. “Apologize.” I looked into his cold eyes. Five years of shared life, and in his eyes, it meant nothing compared to Phoebe’s manipulation, or Thomas’s lie. I suddenly smiled. A soft, bitter smile. “Fine.” I nodded, looking at Thomas’s little face, contorted with triumph. “I’m sorry.” As those words left my lips, I felt something inside me break completely. It was the last thread connecting me to this family. Thomas snorted, turning his head away from me. Jackson’s expression softened slightly, but still looked grim. “Don’t show your face to Thomas these next few days. You just upset him.” With that, he walked downstairs with his son and Phoebe. A family of three. Such a harmonious sight. I stood there, watching them disappear around the stairwell. The wound on my knee had healed, but the bloodstains remained, and the bite mark on my calf was already bruised. The only things that could harm a werewolf, besides silver, were other werewolves. I should treat myself with herbs quickly. But then I decided not to. Let it be a reminder of what had happened. I returned to my room and pulled a suitcase from under the bed. Opened the closet. Most of the clothes were black, white, and gray — Jackson’s preferred colors. He said bright colors made me look frivolous, and only muted tones suited the Luna’s status. I didn’t take any of them. Only a few outfits I’d bought before we were together, and the photo album hidden deep in the closet. I opened the album. The first photo was of Jackson and me. In the picture, his face was stern, his brows slightly furrowed, as if he was very unwilling. I, on the other hand, smiled like an idiot, my eyes full of light. That was me five years ago. Back then, I believed that if I tried hard enough, loved him enough, this stone would eventually warm up. Now I knew. A stone would never warm up. Especially when that stone’s heart was already occupied by someone else. I took out scissors. Snip— Along the center of the photo. The woman with the happy smile and the ice-cold man were completely separated. I threw Jackson’s half of the photo into the trash can. Only keeping the half with myself, eyes full of light. Though that light, now, was extinguished. But I would rekindle it. Somewhere without Jackson.

Scarlett POV It was late when I finished packing. The suitcase was light, barely half-full. I’d lived here for five years, yet I could take so little with me. I pushed the suitcase to the deepest part of the walk-in closet, covering it with old coats. As I straightened up, the door opened. Jackson walked in. He’d just showered, smelling of shower gel mixed with a faint hint of tobacco. It was the brand of cigarettes Phoebe had given him. He didn’t even look at me, walking straight to the bed and sitting down. As he dried his hair, he said, “There’s a Full Moon Gala tomorrow night. You’ll come with me.” If this were before, I would have been too excited to sleep. Because it meant he acknowledged my status. But now, I only felt sarcasm. “Phoebe’s back, isn’t she?” I walked to the vanity table, picked up my face cream, and applied it. “She’s probably more suitable for such an occasion than I am.” Jackson’s hair-drying paused. He looked at me through the mirror, his brows furrowed again. “Scarlett, are you done with this?” He threw the towel onto the bed impatiently. “Phoebe hasn’t fully recovered. She can’t handle the noise of such an event. You’re my mate, the pack’s Luna. This is your responsibility.” Responsibility. So that’s why I existed. A shield, a tool, a nanny. Anything but a lover. “I’m not going.” I capped the face cream and turned to face him. “I don’t feel well.” Jackson seemed surprised by my refusal. This was probably the first time I’d said “no” to him since becoming his Luna. He stood up, strode over to me, and gripped my jaw. His grip was tight, making me wince in pain. “Scarlett, don’t think I don’t know what games you’re playing.” His eyes were sharp as knives, as if trying to see through me. “Though I don’t know why you smell so weak… but as Luna, don’t be so dramatic. Intentionally not cleaning up your bloodstains and trying to gain sympathy in front of me, what, feeling threatened now that Phoebe’s back?” Threatened? I couldn’t help but let out a short, bitter laugh. Seven days ago, maybe I would have. But now, facing a dying relationship, where was the threat? “Jackson.” I looked him straight in the eyes, my voice so calm it surprised even myself. “I really don’t feel well. And I’m exhausted.” Jackson stared at me for a few seconds. As if trying to find traces of a lie on my face. But he failed. There was no emotion in my eyes—no jealousy, no anger, just a stagnant pool of calm. This serenity felt alien to him, even a hint of inexplicable irritation. He released my jaw and scoffed coldly. “Suit yourself.” With that, he turned to leave. At the doorway, he paused again. “Since you’re not going, don’t regret it. Tomorrow, I’ll take Phoebe. Don’t come crying to me if people start gossiping.” It was a threat. He knew I cared about my standing, about the respectability of this relationship. Unfortunately, he miscalculated this time. “I won’t.” I looked at his back and said softly, “As long as you’re happy.” Jackson’s body stiffened. But he didn’t look back, merely slamming the door shut. Bang! The wall clock trembled. I looked at the closed door and let out a long breath. I hadn’t lied. I really didn’t feel well. The dragging pain in my abdomen hadn’t disappeared; instead, it grew more intense. I found the medicine cabinet, pulled out some painkillers, and swallowed them. The bitter taste of herbs spread across my tongue. I lay in bed and turned off the light. In the darkness, my phone screen suddenly lit up. It was a notification of funds received. Fifty thousand dollars. Immediately followed by a message from Phoebe: Scarlett, thank you for clearing out the fragrance lab for me. This money is compensation for your perfume materials. Jackson asked me to send it, said he didn’t want you to work for nothing. I stared at the long string of numbers. In Jackson’s eyes, my dreams, my dignity, were worth this much. Or rather, it was a hush money of sorts, enabling Phoebe to comfortably usurp my things. I didn’t reply, nor did I refund it. I kept it. Why shouldn’t I? It was what I deserved. Consider it five years of nanny wages, and emotional damages. There would be many expenses in the human world after leaving the pack. I placed my phone face down on the nightstand and closed my eyes. Six more days. Just six more days to endure. Then I’d be completely free. Just as I was drifting off to sleep, a commotion erupted downstairs. It sounded like something shattered, accompanied by Phoebe’s shriek. I rolled over and pulled the blanket over my head. Even if the house collapsed, it had nothing to do with me. That night, I had a dream. I dreamt I was a bird. Trapped in a golden cage, I plucked out all my feathers to please my owner. Finally, the owner opened the cage. Not to release me. But to put in a more beautiful peacock. The featherless bird was carelessly tossed into the trash. Gasping its last breath. When I woke up, my pillow was soaked. Not with tears. With cold sweat.

Scarlett POV I don’t remember how I walked out of the mansion. Only that the sunlight outside was blinding, yet held no warmth against my skin. I went to the Pack’s medical center. It was more like a small clinic. Since werewolves rarely needed extensive treatment, it was quiet and empty. I registered, underwent some necessary exams, and finally found the doctor. “Scarlett?” The doctor, an older woman, pushed up her glasses, her gaze falling on my report. Her brows immediately drew together. “Your condition is very dangerous. You have an incomplete miscarriage, with retained tissue, and you’ve got a wolf venom infection. You need surgery immediately.” Surgery. I knew what that meant. Cold instruments probing my body, scraping away that unformed blood clot, along with all my hopes for the past. “I won’t have surgery.” I heard my own calm voice. “Just give me some strong painkillers.” The doctor looked up sharply, staring at me as if I were insane. “Are you trying to die? This kind of infection is very hard to heal on its own, and it will harm your wolf…” She paused, pointing to the alarmingly low number on the lab report. “Are your wounds healing slower recently? And has your wolf been responding less?” I instinctively pulled down my sleeve, covering the bruise on my wrist. It was from Jackson’s grip yesterday, still not healed. Normally, it would disappear quickly. “I know what I’m doing.” I stood up, didn’t wait for the doctor to say more, and walked out of the examination room. Only I knew that this body was broken. It couldn’t be fixed. Even if I fixed this, there would be something else waiting for me. Rather than let my wolf and I endure this torment, I’d rather finish these last few days with dignity. While picking up my medication, the wall-mounted TV in the lobby was broadcasting news from the werewolf world. “Frostveil Pack’s Alpha Jackson attends Full Moon Gala with a mystery lady, spending millions on a pink diamond necklace…” On screen, Jackson stood tall in a perfectly tailored formal suit. Phoebe clung to his arm, the shimmering pink diamond necklace adorning her neck, smiling blissfully. The reporter’s microphone was practically shoved into their faces. “Mr. Jackson, is this lady your mate?” Jackson didn’t deny it, only looking down at Phoebe, his eyes so tender they could drip honey. “She is the most important person to me.” Many in the lobby were watching, some envious, some gasping. No one remembered that I was the true Luna. I stood behind the crowd, clutching a bag of painkillers, a bitter taste of bile in my mouth. The most important person. Then what was I? Five years of shared life, I stood by him from Alpha heir to true Alpha. To garner support, I fought alongside him until I collapsed from exhaustion; to care for his ailing mother, I stayed by her bedside for three months, missing my own mother’s final moments. In the end, I was just an invisible person, not even worthy of a name. I lowered my head, popping a pill into my mouth. I swallowed it dry, without water. The rough tablet scraped my throat, leaving a burning pain. But this pain felt good. At least it reminded me that I was still alive.

Scarlett POV By the time I returned to the mansion, night had fallen completely. The living room was brightly lit. Thomas was sprawled on the rug, drawing, while Phoebe sat beside him, sharpening pencils. Jackson was reviewing documents. If not for the few large cardboard boxes piled in the corner, this would indeed be a picture of a warm family scene. Those were my things. My books, my tea set, even the few coats I often wore. All haphazardly stuffed into cardboard boxes, like a pile of garbage waiting for disposal. “What’s all this?” I changed my shoes and walked over to the boxes. Gamma Lena, who was sealing a box with tape, startled when she saw me, making the tape rip with a sharp, grating sound. “Luna Scarlett… Ms. Phoebe said the house was too cluttered, easy to collect dust, and not good for Thomas, so…” “I asked Gamma Lena to tidy up.” Phoebe put down her pencil, stood up, and looked at me with an innocent expression. “Scarlett, don’t overthink it. I saw you hardly ever use these things, they were just taking up space. Besides, the doctor said Thomas has a bit of allergic rhinitis, and the house needs to be kept clean.” Allergic rhinitis. Though children at that age often got sick, I didn’t recall him having that condition. I looked at the unsealed box. Inside was a bedtime storybook, its corners worn from use. That was the storybook I read to Thomas every night when he was three. Now it was an allergen. “Just throw them out.” Jackson didn’t even look up, turning a page of his document. “They’re useless anyway.” I looked at the man’s profile. Cold, entitled. As if he wasn’t throwing away my belongings, but me. “Okay.” I bent down and picked up the box. It was heavy. Lena started to help, but I dodged her. “I’ll do it myself.” I carried the box and walked out. As I passed Thomas, he suddenly looked up, holding out his drawing, and called out to Jackson, showing off, “Daddy, look! My family portrait!” Jackson put down his document, took the drawing, and a smile touched his lips. “That’s good.” I instinctively glanced over. There were three people in the drawing. A tall daddy, a pretty mommy, and Thomas in the middle, holding hands. The “mommy” wore a pink dress and a sparkling necklace. That was Phoebe’s outfit today. I wasn’t in the drawing. I felt the box in my arms suddenly weigh a thousand pounds, suffocating me. “Thomas is so talented.” Phoebe patted Thomas’s head, giving me a defiant look. “How about I take you to art classes later?” “Yes! I love Phoebe the most!” Thomas hugged her neck and gave her a loud kiss on the cheek. I averted my gaze and quickened my pace. I walked out the front door, all the way to the open yard outside. I dropped the box heavily to the ground. Thud! A cloud of dust rose. Looking at the storybook, a corner peeking out. It suddenly felt ridiculous. Scarlett, look. The memories you cherished like treasure are, in others’ eyes, nothing but trash to be discarded at any moment. I pulled a lighter from my pocket. Click! A blue flame danced in the night wind. I lit a corner of the box. The fire spread quickly, the dry paper curling and blackening, turning to ash. The firelight reflected in my eyes, feeling hot. At some point, Jackson stood behind me. “What are you doing?” His voice was deep, tinged with surprise. He probably hadn’t expected me to burn my own things. After all, before, even a sticky note, if he’d given it to me, I would have carefully saved it. “As you said.” I watched the dancing flames, not turning around. “Cleaning up trash.” Jackson was silent for a few seconds. “Scarlett, you’ve been acting strangely lately.” He walked over to me, scrutinizing me. “If this is to get my attention, you’re overacting.” Overacting? I turned, looking at the man I had loved for seven years. In the firelight, his profile was still breathtakingly handsome. But my heart, like this pile of ashes, was utterly cold. “Jackson.” I called his name. “If I died one day, would you be sad?” Jackson froze. Then, he frowned, an obvious look of disgust appearing on his face. “Don’t say such morbid things.” He flicked his cigarette ash, his tone cold. “Someone like you, you’re tough as nails. How could you die so easily?” I smiled. Yes. Someone like me, like a wild weed. Stepped into the mud, burned by fire, as long as there’s a root left, I can cling to life. But Jackson. This time, I’m pulling up the roots too. “That’s good.” I said softly. “That’s good.” I won’t love you anymore, Jackson. You destroyed me with your own hands.

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The day Caleb Thorne’s high school sweetheart returned to the States marked exactly three years of me playing Support for him. He told me to step aside and advised, “Your macro awareness is just too poor. Riley is a much better fit for me.” Everyone in the league said that if it wasn’t for Caleb, someone of my skill level would never have made it onto a pro roster. They said I was dragging him down. And Riley? She was the one who actually had a chance to help him win the World Championship. So, on the day I packed my bags and left, a friend asked him, “You’re not going to go after her?” Caleb just laughed it off, completely unbothered. “Let her learn her lesson. She’ll be back.” Until one day, someone jokingly suggested they wanted to hear me grovel and apologize to him over the phone on speaker. Uncharacteristically, Caleb agreed and dialed my number. But the moment the call connected, a lazy, raspy male voice answered instead: “She’s in the shower. “In… my room.” Rumor has it that Caleb shattered his wine glass right then and there, bolting from the banquet like a madman. 1 The day Caleb’s high school sweetheart flew back from the European circuit was exactly our three-year anniversary as a bot-lane duo. He threw a massive welcome party for her at the team facility. He invited everyone. Except me. He told me to stay in my room and “reflect on my mistakes.” Pop— Confetti cannons erupted in the living room downstairs. Every word drifting up the stairs was dripping with praise for Riley Mercer. “You’re a legend, Caleb! You actually managed to poach the top female Support in the West!” “With Riley backing us up, next year’s World Championship is practically in the bag!” “Cheers to the birth of our new golden bot-lane couple!” Riley Mercer. The star female Support player. She had a glowing track record and great mechanics. Though she hadn’t secured a World title yet, the entire organization believed her addition would be the push Frost Wolves (FW) needed to break their bottleneck. After all, everyone assumed that if I hadn’t been dragging them down, the championship trophy would already be sitting on Caleb’s shelf. Even Caleb himself had said it: “Your macro awareness is just too poor, Chloe. Riley is a much better fit for me. “Only Riley has the potential to help me win Worlds. “Chloe, give up your starting roster spot.” …… 2 Caleb knew exactly what a starting roster spot meant to a professional esports player. Yet, when he heard me refuse, he just stared at me with cold, calculating eyes. “Chloe, can you stop throwing a tantrum for once? “Can’t you be a team player? Just stay in your room and think about your attitude.” Because of that, when I walked out of my room and appeared suddenly at the top of the stairs, Caleb’s eyes flashed with the impatience of someone whose authority had been challenged. “What are you doing down here?” Riley peeked out from behind him, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Caleb, who is this?” “No one,” Caleb frowned, his tone instantly softening to reassure her. “Just a substitute.” As he spoke, he subtly took a step forward, using his body to block my line of sight to Riley. It was a defensive posture, as if I were some kind of monster about to strike. Just a substitute… My hands balled into fists at my sides, a sharp, suffocating ache spreading through my chest. Satisfied with Caleb’s answer, Riley let out a soft “Oh,” then stepped out from behind him and enthusiastically extended her hand toward me. She smiled. “Hi, I’m Riley Mercer. I’m FW’s new starting Support.” Her smile was laced with condescension, and she made sure to heavily emphasize the word starting. Looking at her bright, beautiful face, and then at Caleb standing in front of her with a warning glare fixed on me, my mind flooded with memories. I remembered the countless fights Caleb and I had after Riley announced her return to the States. “Look at other teams’ Supports, and then look at you! “Chloe, why can’t you just learn from Riley? “If you had even a third of her game sense, we wouldn’t have lost that last match!” He had probably been planning to replace me for a long time. Suddenly, the questions I had been agonizing over didn’t need to be asked anymore. I already had the answers. A strange sense of relief washed over me. I had known Caleb for ten years. Chased the esports dream with him for seven. Dated him for five. Fought alongside him on the professional stage for three. I thought we’d be partners forever. I never expected the cord to snap this easily. …… 3 I raised my eyes and looked at Riley calmly. “Hi, I’m Chloe Bennett. I’m nobody’s substitute. As of this exact second, I am officially leaving FW.” The entire team house went dead silent. Caleb’s head snapped toward me, his brows knitted in fury. “Do you even know what you’re saying?” His expression was dark. I knew exactly why he was furious. He was warning me not to test his patience. If this were the past, out of respect for his position as Captain and to avoid causing drama for the team, I would have lowered my head and backed down. But now… “I’ve already spoken with upper management to terminate my contract.” I bypassed him, handing a stack of folders to Manager Davis. “These are all the signed release forms. Keep them safe.” “Chloe!” Caleb’s sharp voice stopped me in my tracks. “Think this through. If you leave me, what organization is going to want you? Do you have any idea—” “I know,” I chuckled lightly, cutting him off. I shot a meaningful glance at Riley standing behind him and answered a question he hadn’t asked. “Don’t worry. I won’t bother you anymore.” The subtext was clear: We’re breaking up, Caleb. I’m dumping you. Caleb’s face turned an ugly shade of pale. He was so furious he practically gritted his teeth as he delivered his final warning: “I’m not going to tolerate your little temper tantrums this time, Chloe. If you walk out that door, do not regret it!” He honestly believed this was just a bluff, that I would eventually crawl back and apologize like I always did. The only answer he got was the sight of my back as I walked away. In every single argument we’d ever had, the conflict only ended because I was the “good girlfriend.” Whether it was our synergy in the game or our dynamic in real life, Caleb had never compromised for me. Not even once. So what was this about him tolerating me? As I pushed open the front doors of the facility, I raised my hand to block out the blinding sunlight, walking away without a single ounce of hesitation. Behind me, I could faintly hear the sound of something shattering violently against the floor. …… 4 After leaving the FW facility, I wandered the streets aimlessly for three days. During that time, I reached out to numerous teams, but every single one of them gave me polite, evasive rejections. It wasn’t until a female manager from a mid-tier team took pity on me that I found out the truth. She called me privately and confessed that Caleb had already put the word out. He had blacklisted me across the league. No one was going to take me in. After hanging up, I clenched my fists until my knuckles turned white, eventually letting out a hollow, self-deprecating laugh. So this was what he meant by “do not regret it.” Caleb came from old money. His family was rich and deeply connected. When he first started playing professionally, it was little more than a hobby for a bored rich kid. But as he started winning, that hobby evolved into a dream. Even though more and more female players have been entering the esports scene in recent years, the mountain of prejudice still forces most women into the Support role. The community loves to act magnanimous, patting themselves on the back for allowing a woman on the roster. But at the same time, they are incredibly stingy. They only feel comfortable placing women in roles they perceive as “low-impact.” It’s an unspoken rule: everyone just assumes female players are biologically inferior to men when it comes to mechanical skill. They’d rather strip women of their infinite potential than trust them to carry the game. Just like with Caleb and me. No matter what actually happened on the server, whenever we lost a match, the vitriol was always aimed at me: “This is why girls shouldn’t play. Why did they draft a female Support?!” “Is she sleeping with the managers to keep her roster spot?” “Go back to the kitchen, stop ruining our games!” Not once did anyone question if Caleb made the wrong macro call. Compared to other male ADCs in the league, Caleb faced almost zero criticism. And the only reason for that was because his Support was me—and I happened to be a woman. …… 5 On the fifth day of my fruitless job hunt, just as I was starting to doubt whether I was truly cut out for esports, someone completely unexpected showed up. Captain of Ghost Town (GT) and FW’s biggest rival. Hunter Vance. Before I could even process what was happening, he casually greeted the owner of the local burger joint, grabbed two cans of soda from the cooler, and slid into the booth across from me. He cracked one open with one hand, slid it over to me, and lounged back, sipping from the other. He looked so relaxed you’d think he was nursing a cold beer on a beach. I just stared at him, totally bewildered. Seeing me frozen, he lazily lifted an eyebrow. “Our org bans alcohol during the season.” He paused, frowning slightly. “Did you want a beer? I mean, I can pay the fine if we get caught…” He muttered something else under his breath that I didn’t catch. The whole situation felt absurd. “What are you doing here?” I asked. Hunter and I weren’t exactly friends, but we weren’t strangers either. As opponents, we’d nod at each other backstage and shake hands after matches. That was the extent of it. But I knew his reputation. Just like Caleb, he was the face of his franchise. A superstar. But where Caleb played the gentle, polished nice guy for the cameras, Hunter had a very different label: “A serious face hiding a totally chaotic, trash-talking esports bad boy.” And he had a venomous tongue. Just like right now. He set his soda down, looking at me with a half-smile. “Unemployed? Packing up to go work on a farm? “Getting too old? Hands too slow? “Honestly, watching you and Caleb play the bot lane… I could scatter birdseed on my keyboard, and a pigeon would have better movement than you two.” Me: “……” And here I thought he came to comfort me. Hunter seemed to read my mind. He scoffed, giving me a side-eye. “What are you expecting? I’m not that fake nice-guy Caleb, playing to the cameras and running a charity.” Me: “……” In the span of thirty seconds, he absolutely verbally dismantled me. It was a stark reminder of why pro players are often called “keyboard warriors.” I tried to argue back at first, but eventually, I was reduced to just nodding aggressively like a turtle, deeply agreeing with his roast. Hunter found this highly amusing. He laughed and muttered, “Useless.” Then, he pulled an unlit cigarette from his pocket, held it between his lips, and asked me with the casualness of discussing the weather: “Hey, loser. Wanna join our team?” I nodded numbly, taking a solid ten seconds to process the words before my head snapped up. I stared at him in utter shock. “W-what did you just say?” My heart started hammering against my ribs. I was terrified. Terrified that he was just mocking me in my lowest moment, but also terrified that my own cowardice would make me miss this lifeline. I nervously fumbled for words. “B-but your roster is full, isn’t it?” GT was a stacked roster. They didn’t even need substitutes. “Management is making some roster changes,” Hunter said smoothly. He picked up his soda again. But when he met my wide, panicked eyes, he slowly set it back down. He ground his teeth. “What is that look? Give me a straight answer. Yes or no. Or I’m taking the offer off the table.” He looked incredibly annoyed, like a dad scolding his disappointing kid. But I didn’t care. The only words that registered in my brain were taking the offer off the table. Instinctively, I lunged forward and grabbed his hand across the table, shouting, “I’m in! I’m in! Please don’t take it back!” My yelling earned us some weird looks from the other tables. Hunter just stared down at where my hands were gripping his for a solid thirty seconds. Then, he cleared his throat awkwardly and muttered, “Keep it down.” Thinking he was disgusted by the physical contact, I quickly pulled my hands back and sat up perfectly straight. But as I followed him out of the diner and walked behind him toward the GT team house, I noticed the back of his neck was violently red. Hunter reached up, rubbed the back of his neck, and cursed under his breath, “Damn heat. It’s too hot today.” ……

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When Liam flew halfway across the world chasing the one that got away, I begged him not to leave. He didn’t even look back. A year later, I got married, and Liam flew straight back. Seeing my wedding ring, the habitually arrogant young heir completely broke down. He forced a smile. “Lily, are you going to take it off yourself, or should I do it for you?” His voice was trembling. “If you want a ring, I’ll buy you one. Throw this one away, I’m begging you.” I didn’t invite many people to my wedding, just a dozen or so close friends and family for a nice dinner. My husband doted on me. He didn’t let me lift a finger the entire time, taking it upon himself to entertain the guests so I could just sit and chat with my best friend. Watching me get married, my best friend Emma sighed deeply. “I honestly thought you were going to wait for Liam for the rest of your life.” I looked down and smiled. “I thought so too.” She asked, “Does Liam know you’re getting married?” I shook my head. “No. And there’s no need for him to know.” She paused. “I heard Liam booked a flight like an absolute madman last night, flying back from the States overnight.” I didn’t say anything. If he was in such a rush, it was probably because his “first love” had run off again. Just like back then. She had gotten mad at him and ran off to Europe. Liam booked his flight right in front of me to chase after her. It was my time of the month, and I was wrapped tightly in a blanket, still feeling freezing cold. I sat shivering in front of him, watching his long, elegant fingers tap the screen without a second of hesitation, booking a ticket for that very night. I gritted my teeth, still wanting to make him stay. “Liam, can you just… not go?” Liam’s dark, gleaming eyes looked at me, a careless smile on his lips. “Be a good girl and stay home. I’ll bring you back a present.” He tilted my chin up, pecked me lightly on the lips, and tucked the blanket tighter around me. “Do you want a necklace or a bracelet?” I stayed silent. Liam loved giving people jewelry. He had given me countless pieces, but never a ring. He didn’t give Mia many gifts, but whenever he did, it was always a ring. I took a deep breath, looking at his lean, handsome face and pale skin, and tried one last time. “Do you really have to go?” The smile on Liam’s lips faded a fraction. He patted my head. “You know what our relationship is.” I froze in place, utterly speechless. I was the one who had actively chased Liam. He only had one condition: our relationship couldn’t be public, especially not in front of Mia. To put it bluntly, I was just a rebound. A backup plan. I had absolutely no right to stop him. Even though we lived together, and he had even taken me to his family gatherings. Seeing that I wasn’t going to argue, Liam smiled and kissed my forehead. “Be good. I’ll bring you something nice.” I lowered my head. “When are you coming back?” He stood up, slowly buttoning his dress shirt. “Just a few days.” At the time, he probably didn’t expect that his dream girl wasn’t just going abroad to clear her head—she was going for a year-long study program. Which meant he ended up staying there with her for a whole year. I looked at Liam’s tall, broad back as he walked to the door, and I let out a soft sigh. Sensing my unhappiness, Liam turned back. “Before I leave, think of something you want me to do for you. I’ll make it happen, whatever it is.” I looked at his face and thought for a moment. “Could you look into someone for me? His name is Noah. He’s a war correspondent.” Liam’s face instantly darkened. “What’s your relationship with him? If you can’t explain it clearly, I’m not helping.” I pressed my lips together. “He’s my brother. From my foster family.” Liam’s expression relaxed, and he nodded. “Wait for my news.” He turned and left. I watched his silhouette disappear, then pulled a photograph out of my wallet. In the photo was a lean, handsome man who looked strikingly similar to Liam. I gently rubbed the photo with my thumb. Liam really was a forgetful person. I had told him I grew up in the foster care system. Where would I get a biological extended family? I had also told him that there was an older boy in the group home who always took care of me, and that we grew up together. But he heard it and immediately forgot. He also never suspected why I loved staring at his face so much. I only loved his face. Liam really, truly loved Mia. Even though Mia’s attitude had been wildly inconsistent for years, and she simply refused to settle down with him. He still loved her willingly and wholeheartedly. And I really, truly loved Liam— Or rather, that face of his. The face that looked just like Noah’s. I always held a deep sense of gratitude toward Liam. He had saved me from the absolute abyss. When I met him, I had already lost contact with Noah for three years. Many people said Noah was dead. I was a walking corpse, completely devoid of life. Until I saw Liam, a guy a year below me in college. When I saw that face, so devastatingly identical to Noah’s, I cried. I did everything I could to get close to Liam, treating him well unconditionally. Everyone knew I was Liam’s little shadow. I carried his bag, held his jacket, bought his things, passed messages when he fought with Mia, and helped him walk home when he was drunk. Perhaps I was just too good to him, so good that he could no longer ignore it. So, one drunken night after a massive fight with Mia, he pulled me into his arms. “You like me?” I looked at that lean, handsome face and nodded. From that day on, I became Liam’s secret girlfriend. If a rebound could even be considered a girlfriend. This “relationship” lasted for years. Things never worked out between Liam and Mia, and eventually, Liam and I moved in together. Sometimes, Liam would hold me and sigh romantically, “Lily, you’re the best woman I’ve ever met. You don’t even care about my money.” I laughed. “If you wanted to give it to me, I wouldn’t say no.” “But you don’t spend it.” Liam stared at me with those deep, intense eyes. “You don’t spend my money, you don’t wear the jewelry I buy you, and you don’t push me to go public.” He said, “Sometimes I honestly feel like you’re treating me like a rebound, too.” I tapped his nose, laughing as I buried my face in his chest. Rebound or not, it didn’t matter. People aren’t made of stone. We had already spent six years together. Those six years meant a lot to me. But Liam didn’t see it that way. Liam still loved Mia just as much. If Mia called him drunk in the middle of the night, Liam would throw his clothes on and rush out to pick her up. In the past, Liam would leave without a word, never explaining himself to me. But later on, he started offering explanations, a hint of guilt flickering across his face. I thought this meant I was finally becoming someone special in his heart. But I was wrong. He still chased Mia out of the country, not giving me a single chance to make him stay. And he was gone for a whole year. Liam actually came back once during that year. He got incredibly drunk and called me to pick him up. When I arrived, he was sitting in a VIP booth at a club, video-calling Mia. Seeing me walk in, he waved me over. “Lily, come here.” He turned the phone to show me to Mia. “Let me introduce you. This is my girlfriend of six years, Lily.” Mia still wore her usual look of cold indifference. But her eyes swept over me, pausing on my face for a few seconds. Then she smiled. “Liam, have you moved on?” Liam smiled back. “Yeah. Why should I keep chasing someone who doesn’t want me, when I’ve got a gentle, perfect wife right here?” Mia watched Liam wrap his arm around me and asked how long we had been together. I answered honestly: six years. Mia hung up the video call. The usually arrogant and poised Mia lost her composure so badly she didn’t even say goodbye. The hand Liam had wrapped around me suddenly went rigid. That night, Liam was holding me as we slept. Halfway through the night, he took a phone call. When he came back to bed, he held me tight, kissing me endlessly. He didn’t sleep a wink, just staring at me until dawn. By morning, his voice was hoarse. “Lily, we’re at the end of the line.” I hadn’t slept either. I had already guessed it. I heard the phone call he took. Mia casually told him to break up with me. She said as soon as he dumped me, she would be with him. I knew I wasn’t as important as Mia. I nodded, not wanting the scene to get ugly. I turned my back to him and wiped the corner of my eye. Liam hugged me from behind, squeezing me so tight I could barely breathe. He whispered in my ear, “The boy from your foster family… I found news about him. He’s not dead. He just has amnesia. He’s overseas.” My entire body went stiff. I turned around. “Can you bring him back?” Liam kissed my lips one last time. “I can. I owe you this much.” The very same day, he got on a plane to be with Mia. And a few days later, I saw Noah. He was in the best hospital in the country, being treated by top-tier specialists. Soon, his memory returned, and he remembered me. Noah had lost his memory from a head injury while saving a child in a bombing zone. The moment he woke up, the first thing he did was pull me into his arms. His gentle voice echoed by my ear. “I’ve been gone for ten years. I’m so sorry I made you suffer.” My tears instantly spilled over. My empty heart was quietly, completely filled. Noah and I had missed out on ten years, and neither of us wanted to waste another decade. We got engaged very quickly. Noah did ask me if I had fallen in love with someone else during those ten years, telling me not to make an impulsive decision I might regret. Liam’s face flashed vaguely in my mind. But it disappeared just as fast. I shook my head, smiled, and said no. I traced the scar Noah got from saving that child in the war zone, and repeated, “No.”

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Right before the wedding, the male lead finally remembered I existed and came to the mansion to see me. [Has Harper realized her mistake?] The butler looked devastated: “Miss Harper is already dead.” He didn’t believe it. He rushed into the bedroom, only to find my long-cold corpse. Before my mission failed, I refused to give up. I sent Carter one last text message, asking: “Do you really have to marry Chloe?” A reply came quickly: “If you keep throwing these tantrums, we can’t even be brother and sister anymore.” I didn’t even have to guess; I knew Carter was frowning as he typed that, annoyance written all over his face. My heart turned to ash. I resigned myself to my fate, tossed the phone aside, and waited for death. I watched helplessly at the countdown hovering above my head— From ten, all the way down to zero. The system’s mechanical voice echoed in my mind: “Failure to capture the male lead’s heart. The host will now be erased.” As soon as the words fell, I felt it with agonizing clarity— My soul was being peeled away from this body, inch by excruciating inch. It was an unbearable sensation. A hundred, a thousand times worse than when I was tortured and whipped in my past life. I gritted my teeth as hard as I could, but a muffled groan of agony still slipped through my lips. The experiences of this lifetime flashed before my eyes like a speeding movie. I was supposed to be the vicious secondary character in a billionaire romance novel, but I was handed the script to win the male lead’s heart. To better nurture our feelings, I chose to enter this world as his childhood best friend. For the first eighteen years of our lives, we were inseparable. Whenever it was my time of the month, Carter would buy me pads and make me hot tea with a heating pad ready. He would endure a twenty-four-hour flight, rushing all the way back from overseas just to say: “I wanted to see you.” Almost everyone thought we were a sure thing, a match made in heaven. Including me. That was until the female lead, Chloe, appeared. Only then did I profoundly understand that a lifetime of friendship could never compete with love at first sight. At my twentieth birthday party, I confessed my feelings to him. Unsurprisingly, he rejected me. He summarized over a decade of our bond into a single sentence: “Harper, I only see you as a sister.” From that moment on, my “vicious secondary character” persona awakened, and I began to cling to him desperately. And from the sidelines, I witnessed his on-again, off-again five-year saga with Chloe. Leading up to today, where they finally got their happy ending. If I didn’t win Carter’s heart, I would die. But at the same time, I genuinely loved him! Back then, I was stubborn. I refused to believe that eighteen years of devotion couldn’t rival a single fleeting glance. Facts proved that I was wrong. Completely, absurdly wrong. But Carter, it really hurts! After the immense tearing sensation faded, my body became light, no longer confined to flesh and blood. Strangely, I didn’t disappear immediately. Instead, guided by some bizarre force, I was pulled straight to Carter’s corporate headquarters. Dressed in a tailored black suit, he exuded the aura of an elite executive. It was almost laughable. That suit he was wearing? I tailored it for him myself. I majored in fashion design in college. Back then, my eyes and heart were entirely filled with Carter. I naively told him: “I’m going to gift you a custom-tailored suit for your birthday every year, so you can be the spokesperson for my brand.” He promised to invest in me, to take my brand global. I kept my promise, but he broke his. [Mr. CEO, Miss Chloe is calling to remind you about the wedding photoshoot.] Carter’s executive assistant, Hayes, walked in to inform him. [I know.] Carter replied, placing a photograph face-down on his desk before standing up in silence. When he left, I was forced to follow. I watched as he and Chloe laughed and smiled, shooting an entire gallery of wedding photos. On the way back, Carter uncharacteristically did not drop Chloe off at her place. The atmosphere in the car was inexplicably heavy, suffocatingly so. Carter’s brows were locked in a tight frown, lost in thought, as if some unsolvable problem was bothering him. After a long while, he spoke abruptly: “Where is Harper?” “What is she doing today?” Usually, I was incredibly clingy. I’d call him countless times a day and send an endless stream of texts. Even if he ignored me, I would always find a way to pry his itinerary out of Hayes. This time, however, Hayes simply replied calmly: “Miss Harper hasn’t reached out to me at all today.” Hearing this, Carter’s frown deepened fiercely. He pulled out his phone. Our chat history was still stuck on yesterday’s screen. Me: “Do you really have to marry Chloe?” Carter: “If you keep throwing these tantrums, we can’t even be brother and sister anymore.” He furrowed his brows and sent me a text, acting as if he was granting me a grand favor: “Where are you?” Normally, I would have jumped for joy and immediately started rambling to him, not wanting to make him wait a single second. But this time, ten minutes passed without a single reply. Carter finally sensed something was off and ordered Hayes: “Go to Oakwood Manor.” Oakwood Manor. This estate was Carter’s coming-of-age gift to me. I had lived here ever since and refused to move out. Even the butler was handpicked by him. When Carter arrived, the mansion was terrifyingly quiet. Only the butler was in the living room, busying himself aimlessly. Carter casually adjusted his cufflinks and ordered: “Tell Harper to come down and see me.” Hearing my name, the butler’s rigid expression cracked, revealing an incomprehensible layer of sorrow. He cast a resentful glance at Carter and slowly spat out the words: “Miss Harper is already dead.” Carter froze for a second, then his face returned to a mask of indifference. He scoffed: “What kind of new trick is she playing now?” I might have been willful and mischievous, but I would never joke about life and death. Yet his trust in me was so incredibly thin that he wouldn’t even bother to verify it. Carter was absolutely certain I was just throwing a tantrum. Before leaving, he told the butler to pass on a message: “Tell her not to come to my wedding. Chloe doesn’t like her, and she’s an eyesore to me.” The butler’s eyes flickered, his gaze toward Carter tainted with pity and a hint of hatred. Carter stayed in my mansion for barely ten minutes. He came in a rush and left in a hurry. He climbed into his car, irritated. When Hayes saw no one following him out, he paused: “Sir, did Miss Harper not come down to see you?” After all, the old me wouldn’t have let him wait for even a second. Setting the system’s mission aside… it turned out I was just a shameless, desperate lapdog begging for his attention. Harper, you didn’t die unjustly. Carter’s brow twitched, his mood growing even more foul as he warned: “Never mention that name in front of me again.” Hayes hesitated, glancing at the thoroughly impatient Carter, and finally swallowed all his words of persuasion. I was sitting right there in the back seat, right beside Carter. He seemed extremely agitated. He made the driver circle the entire city several times. His thin lips were pressed into a tight, straight line. He gripped his phone tightly, glancing down at it every so often. But the screen remained pitch black; it never lit up. I didn’t know what he was hoping for. Was he still expecting me to call or text him? Oh, I remembered. Carter once said I was his anchor; he only felt truly at peace when I was around. Once, after a bitter fight with Chloe, he got drunk and ran over to my place in the middle of the night, acting like a madman. He held me so tightly, the scent of alcohol mixing with his warm breath against my neck. He nuzzled me, full of intimacy. [Harper, what would I ever do without you?] His tone was tender, as though I were the lover he had yearned for all his life. That was the closest I ever got to completing the mission. If I had slept with him then, given Carter’s rigid, traditional mindset, he would have taken responsibility for me. But I didn’t want to use such dirty tricks to chain him to my side. I wanted to stand before him with my head held high. So, I always appeared whenever he was depressed and defeated. I saw him at his absolute lowest countless times, but I was never allowed to share the glory when he was standing at the peak. During the five years he was entangled with Chloe, they loved and tortured each other. Every time he achieved a victory, he would childishly run to her side, lift his chin proudly, and provoke her: “Chloe, you’re my defeated opponent.” Chloe would get furious, her eyes turning red. Then Carter would frantically apologize and coax her until she smiled. And I just stood a short distance away, staring blankly at that eye-piercing scene. Five whole years. I lost count of how many times I had to endure that. I thought about giving up, but every time the thought crossed my mind, the system would blare a piercing warning of my impending erasure. The morning light was faint. The distant, foggy blue sky gradually turned pale, and the morning sun struggled to break through. Carter waited for me all night, but he never got my surrender. He closed his eyes and ordered coldly: “To the office.” “Yes, sir.” Upon arriving at the office, Carter paced irritably around the executive suite. His gaze shifted and suddenly landed on the photograph placed face-down on his desk. Things had been too rushed yesterday; I never got a clear look at who was in the picture. Was it Chloe? They had been practically inseparable these past few days. Did he miss her so much that he needed to look at her photo? Over the past five years, he and Chloe had a toxic, passionate romance, but the one who was always by his side was me. Right before my twentieth birthday, Chloe came up to me and declared with absolute certainty: “Harper, the one who will end up with Carter is me.” I froze, not taking her declaration of war seriously. How could she? Carter and I had a deep bond. He planned my entire birthday party himself, making it a grand, luxurious affair. So, we made a bet. At the party, I confessed to Carter: “I like you.” The entire room erupted, people clapping and cheering: “Be together! Be together!” I waited for his answer, full of anticipation and anxiety. But Carter looked hesitantly into the crowd, and finally gave me a helpless reply: “Harper, I only see you as my sister. If I did anything to make you misunderstand, I apologize.” In an instant, the mocking and shocked stares of the crowd shattered into thousands of sharp blades, stabbing ruthlessly into my heart. An invisible execution. I forced a smile, having no idea how to salvage the humiliating situation. I thought it was a mutual romance naturally blossoming; I didn’t realize it was just my own pathetic, one-sided delusion. To make matters worse, Chloe walked up to the stage, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Carter. She crossed her arms, gave me a disdainful look, and said: “Harper, I told you. Carter doesn’t like you. You’re just asking for misery.” Carter turned and started arguing with her, criticizing her for acting on her own, entirely forgetting that I was still standing there, drowning in embarrassment. [Sir, Miss Chloe is here.] Hayes’ calm voice echoed in the spacious, quiet office, jolting both of us out of our shared trip down memory lane. [Let her wait outside for now.] Carter nodded expressionlessly and turned to walk into the private lounge. The lounge had a massive walk-in closet filled with all kinds of clothes, every single one carefully paired and picked out by me. It was so he’d always be prepared for any occasion. Now, he was meticulously picking an outfit from the dazzling array of clothes I bought him, all to go on a date with another woman. How laughable! I did so much, yet failed to unlock his heart, only managing to pave the way perfectly for someone else. It was truly pages of absurdity, a handful of bitter tears. Chloe, who was supposed to wait outside, entered the office without permission and picked up the photo on the desk. When Carter walked out and saw this, he flew into a rage, his voice sharp and severe: “Who told you to touch my things?” This sudden burst of anger caught her off guard. Chloe froze for a second before firing back accusingly: “Wow, Carter. We’re about to get married, and you’re hiding a picture of another woman? What exactly is the meaning of this?!” Another woman’s picture? It wasn’t Chloe. Hearing this, I burst out laughing, clutching my stomach and giggling. I didn’t know Carter was such a player! But it was for the best. Let Chloe taste the bitterness I once swallowed. They got into a fierce argument and eventually parted on bad terms. The massive office was left in a mess, leaving behind only… Carter’s profound loneliness. He bent down to pick up the photo from the floor. I leaned in curiously, wanting to know who this woman hidden in his heart was. Even Chloe had lost to her. But he deliberately covered the photo with his hand, guarding it so tightly that I couldn’t see a thing. I sighed in defeat. But on second thought, I let it go. What business did the dead have with the affairs of the living? Besides, I was going to disappear soon anyway. [Ring— Ring—] The ringing of the landline shattered the momentary silence of the office. Carter looked over, his eyes landing on the old-fashioned phone on his desk, the corners of his lips curving up slightly. He purposely waited a while. Just as the call was about to drop, he leisurely picked up the receiver and said, “Hello.” The butler’s calm, numb voice came through the line: “Sir, how should we arrange the young lady’s funeral?” Not hearing the voice he expected, Carter frowned heavily, his annoyance flaring up: “Is Harper addicted to playing dead?!” “Tell her that these cheap tricks won’t fool me, and I won’t cancel the wedding because of them!” The other end went completely silent. Just as Carter thought the call had been disconnected, the butler’s voice echoed faintly.

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1 I had a flash marriage. My bargain of a husband is a college professor, 29 years old, with a PhD. He’s rich, gorgeous, and has tenure. The key point is: he has a car, a house, and no parents to deal with. My mom said a top-tier catch like him is like hitting the jackpot. I was momentarily blinded by his good looks, and after just half a month of blind dating, we got our marriage license. But half a month into the marriage, I regretted it. He is too cold, our differences are too vast, and we have absolutely nothing to talk about. He sleeps early, wakes up early, leaves early, and comes home early. I sleep late, wake up late, and am basically nocturnal. The day we got our license, I was on my period, and he consciously went to sleep in the guest room. Half a month into our marriage, we’ve been living like platonic roommates. I didn’t want to live like a nun anymore. After hesitating for a long time, I prepared to go find Elias Thorne to talk about divorce. Just as I reached the door of his office, a young female student beat me to it, knocking and walking in. “Why are you closing the door? Leave it open.” Elias’s voice carried a hint of irritation. The young girl, looking wronged, opened the door back up. I stood in the doorway, momentarily at a loss for what to do. “Hey, if it’s nothing major, I’d advise you to come back another day.” The girl sighed, kindly warning me. I stood there, a little curious and a little surprised. “Professor Thorne, have you looked at my thesis? I need your signature in the final column…” Inside the office, Elias was wearing a black dress shirt that outlined his tall, athletic build, the cuffs rolled up to his elbows, revealing a pair of veined, strong wrists. He flipped through a thesis, his brows furrowing deeper and deeper. “With what you’ve written here, even George Washington wouldn’t dare sign his name on this. “I asked you to submit a rough draft, not a brain dump. “The title is nice. It uses the entire English alphabet, but put together, I don’t understand a word of it.” I stood there, completely dumbfounded. Half a month into our marriage, the number of conversations Elias and I had could be counted on one hand, not to mention he naturally had a man-of-few-words personality. I never expected that a man who looked so refined and elegant could have such a venomous tongue. When intellectuals insult people, it truly is on another level… He flipped through the pages, his face growing darker. “What is this formatting? Did you invent it yourself? “Take a guess at my mental state when I read this part? “I feel like your mind was completely blank. “What exactly are you researching? “Remove my name from the acknowledgments. Don’t try to morally blackmail me. “Do you still want to graduate?” The young girl stood there, looking like she was about to cry. Help, the sheer terror of being dominated by a graduation thesis instantly washed over me. It was hard not to empathize. Moreover, what shocked me was that a man who usually treated his words like gold around me could actually speak this much! With a cold face, he slammed the thesis onto the desk and, upon lifting his eyes, locked gazes with me. He looked slightly surprised for a moment. “Chloe, why are you here?” His expression softened as he walked over to me and took my hand. “Why didn’t you come in?” The female student looked at me like I was her savior, her eyes suddenly filled with pure gossip. I awkwardly raised my hand and gave a little wave. Elias glanced at her and introduced me: “Your professor’s wife.” The young girl instantly turned into a gossip-hungry hound. “Hello, Mrs. Thorne!” “Wow, Professor, you’re married…” “You look so young.” “When did you guys tie the knot?” Elias unhappily reminded her: “If you put this much energy into your studies, your thesis wouldn’t read like a Wattpad fanfiction.” “Sorry to bother you, Professor. I’ll take my leave now…” She left, leaving just the two of us in the office. Staring at each other, things felt inexplicably awkward again. “How did you find the time to come by today?” He looked at me, his voice softening a few degrees. I couldn’t quite gauge his mood. After hesitating for a moment, I felt now was not the right time to bring up divorce. “Just… passing by…” I lied. The corners of his lips hooked up into a smile, and he raised his hand to pat my head. “I just got off work. Let’s go home.” Elias is tall, with chiseled, model-like features. Paired with those gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, his unapproachable, ascetic vibe was pushed to the absolute max. With just one smile and a head pat, my resolve began to waver. With a face like that, getting a divorce feels like taking a massive loss… 2 He held my hand as we walked out of the office, bumping into a few colleagues who were also leaving for the day. He nodded politely, smiling as he introduced me. “Yes, my wife.” “Yes, we just got the certificate. We’ll invite everyone to the wedding.” Blushing, I got into the car with him. The ride was quiet. As a chatterbox, I really couldn’t stand this kind of atmosphere, so I took the initiative to break the ice: “Um, why are you so strict with your students?” He sighed helplessly. “They’re too dumb…” “When you tutored me on my thesis back then, you weren’t this mean…” Elias was a former student of my dad’s. Though I hadn’t seen him much, his name was legendary in our house. A genius boy who skipped grades continuously, a brilliant student who breezed through his Master’s and PhD, a rare young talent. My dad spent his life cultivating brilliant minds everywhere, but sadly, the one he grew at home was a total dud. Me. I’ve been a terrible student since childhood. I went to a bottom-tier state college for my undergrad, bombed my grad school entrance exams, and went abroad to buy a fluff Master’s degree. Back then, after reading my thesis, my dad’s blood pressure spiked. Out of desperation, he handed me over to Elias. At that time, Elias corrected my work word by word, incredibly patient. Now that he’s a professor himself, he’s totally changed his tune. He suddenly smiled, his voice deep: “You’re different.” As he spoke, he parked the car in front of a pharmacy. “Wait for me a second, I need to buy something.” I was a bit curious: “Are you sick?” Could it be that he got so mad at his student today that he needed to buy blood pressure meds? He didn’t answer, just gave me an unreadable glance. He wasn’t gone long before returning, and I couldn’t even see what he had bought. 3 We drove home in silence, and as soon as we walked in, he went straight to the kitchen to cook. I have to admit, this habit of Elias’s is truly wonderful. Even though I often sleep until noon, there are always fresh meals in the fridge every day. His cooking skills are great, and soon, several dishes were placed on the table. Garlic shrimp with broccoli, beef with enoki mushrooms, tomato and egg stir-fry, and a zucchini soup. All my favorites. I buried my head and ate while he continuously put more food into my bowl. “That’s… that’s enough…” I was getting a bit too full before he finally stopped. “Okay.” Another bout of silence. I silently sighed in my heart. He really just doesn’t share a common language with me. I still don’t think I can live like this. After dinner, he silently cleared the table and did the dishes, while I turned and went to the bathroom to wash up. While showering, I thought long and hard about how to bring up the divorce. The steam clouded the room, and my brain felt a bit deprived of oxygen. Reaching out to grab my towel, I lost my focus for a second. My foot slipped, and with a heavy thud, I crashed onto the floor. I let out a miserable shriek, tears springing to my eyes from the pain. I felt like my entire body was shattered… “Chloe, what’s wrong?” Elias’s anxious knocking sounded from outside the door. It hurt so much I couldn’t even speak properly. “Chloe, are you okay? I’m coming in.” “I…” Realizing I was still naked, I panicked through the pain. “I slipped, don’t…” Before I could finish, he actually opened the door and rushed in. The moment our eyes met, I watched his face visibly flush red all the way down to his neck. My face instantly burned up, and I didn’t know which parts of myself to cover first. “Elias, you… you…” Realizing he had lost his composure, he coughed lightly. He quickly pulled down a bath towel, wrapped my entire body in it, and carried me into the bedroom. He gently placed me on the bed, looking worried: “Where did you get hurt?” I clutched the towel tightly, my face flushed. “My foot.” As my gaze fell to my foot, I instantly wanted the earth to swallow me whole out of sheer embarrassment. Maybe I slipped too hard, but right now, my shower slipper was shoved completely past my heel and wedged tightly onto my ankle… Elias clearly wanted to laugh, but he held it in. “I bought them a size too big. I’ll get you a better pair tomorrow,” he explained. He placed his hand on the slipper. “Let’s get the shoe off first.” And so, both of us pulling with all our might, we began the “Great Slipper Extraction.” I was nervous and mortified. We struggled for a long time, but the shoe remained firmly stuck. “It’s too tight.” He sighed helplessly, guiding me. “Chloe, relax a bit, keep your foot straight.” Me: … God, just destroy me right now… 4 A few minutes and several attempts later, it finally came off… Elias half-knelt in front of me, massaging my foot. “Can you move it?” His slightly messy bangs fell over his forehead, and his glasses hid his downward gaze. I moved my foot, blushing. “It’s fine now…” It hurt terribly when I first fell, but now that the shock passed, it was much better. He gently rubbed my ankle. As he slowly looked up, I met his eyes. I couldn’t help but feel flustered and awkward again. Especially right now, when he wasn’t speaking, the atmosphere was indescribably weird. Unable to bear it any longer, I took a deep breath and tentatively spoke up: “Elias, why don’t we… get a divorce…” His hands stopped, and his gaze darkened: “Chloe, what did you just say?” I avoided his eyes. “I said… divorce…” He stood up with a cold face, casting a shadow over me. He closed his eyes briefly, but it couldn’t hide the anger brewing beneath them. “Chloe, do you think marriage is a game?” I twisted my fingers tightly, feeling a bit guilty: “But we… we’re clearly not a good match…” “How are we not a good match?” “We’re not a match in any way. We don’t even act like a married couple…” He kept his cold face, didn’t say a word, turned around, and walked out. I was stunned for a moment. Before I could even process it, he actually came right back. Then, he tossed a small box onto the bed. Me: ??? “E… Elias, what are you doing?” His shirt was already gone. I only glanced up once, and my face felt scalding hot… His voice was husky: “We haven’t even tried. How do you know we aren’t a match?” “I…” His glasses bumped against the bridge of my nose, his burning skin contrasting with the cool metal frames. He quickly took off his glasses. My eyes met Elias’s beautiful brow and eyes. It turned out that taking off his glasses made him look a few degrees gentler. Try it then. A top-tier guy like this, I’m not losing out… … Except, three minutes later. I lay on the bed, somewhat questioning the meaning of life. All that aggressive buildup like a tiger, only to strike out immediately… That’s it? Someone covered his eyes, looking humiliated. “Chloe… it’s my first time…” I forced a bitter smile to comfort him, trying to preserve his final shred of dignity. Inside, I was losing my mind: We tried it, are we a match? Do YOU think we’re a match? WTF, divorce, we absolutely must divorce. I’ve done good deeds my whole life, I don’t deserve this. His face was flushed red. “Can we try one more time?” “Whatever you want…” I figured I could just grit my teeth and get through it…

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In response to the question, “Just how powerful is the memory of a first love?”, I saw my boyfriend’s answer. “Too powerful. That’s why I proposed to her younger sister. I want to protect her under the guise of family.” I am that younger sister. But I wasn’t as devastated as you might think. Because the top-voted answer under that same question… was written by me. I have an unspeakable secret of my own. 1. The doorbell rang. At the door stood my blackout-drunk boyfriend—and fiancé. He proposed to me last week, and I said yes. Right now, his eyes were bloodshot, and he reeked of alcohol. He looked like he had been crying. His buddy was holding him up. “Hey, sorry. He was just so overwhelmed with emotion about marrying you that he started crying, and then he just drank too much celebrating.” “It’s fine. Thank you for bringing him home.” The moment the door clicked shut, Liam grabbed me and pulled me into his arms. “We’re finally going to be family.” After I hauled him onto the couch and laid him down, I noticed his phone screen constantly lighting up with notifications for likes and comments. I used his fingerprint to unlock it. I discovered he had answered a question on Quora: Just how powerful is the memory of a first love? His answer read: “Too powerful. I only started pursuing her younger sister so I could have a legitimate reason to see her, and call her ‘sister.’ Now, her younger sister loves me deeply and is incredibly gentle with me, but I don’t really love her. Or rather, I don’t even know if I love her or not. My first love will always be her older sister. No one can replace her. Proposing to her younger sister is just my way of protecting her under the guise of family.” 2. I thought back to the first time I introduced him to my sister. Before I could even introduce her, he smoothly said, “Nice to meet you, sister.” I didn’t think much of it at the time. But looking back at her shocked, frozen expression, and Liam’s deeply meaningful look… The tension in the air was practically suffocating. 3. Actually, Mia isn’t my biological sister; she’s my stepmother’s daughter. She moved into my house when I started high school. She was a year ahead of me. My dad absolutely adored her. With my stepmother in favor, Mia used that leverage to constantly compete with me, practically stealing my father’s love. Whenever we were home, we clashed. It wasn’t until we grew up that our relationship somewhat eased. On the surface, we were harmonious, but underneath, the rivalry remained. Looking at it now, she won completely. I picked up the man she discarded, and worse, he was still hopelessly in love with her, treating her like his untouchable first love. I suddenly remembered the Instagram post Liam made when I accepted his proposal. I’ll become your family and protect you forever. Mia even commented underneath: Congratulations to you both. Reading his Quora answer, I finally understood the hidden meaning. Ninety percent of his answer detailed how he couldn’t let go of her after they broke up, how he stalked her social media and discovered she had a younger sister—me. And so, he started pursuing me. So that’s how it was. On the couch, Liam suddenly grabbed my wrist. “Mia, don’t leave me…” I expressionlessly yanked my hand away. What Liam didn’t know was that he wasn’t the only one who answered that question. The top-voted answer under that question, with over twenty thousand upvotes, was written by me. I had written it casually years ago and hadn’t checked it since. Honestly, it was time for me to wake up. Liam was never him to begin with. But I couldn’t leave yet. I still had unfinished business. 4. When Liam woke up the next morning. I had made breakfast, but without eating a bite, he frantically put on his shoes, grabbed his keys, and rushed to the door. I called out to him, “Weren’t we going to look at wedding dresses this morning?” He tossed back over his shoulder: “We can go this afternoon. I have something to take care of right now.” I didn’t need to ask to know who had texted him. Years ago, my sister got her wish and married into a wealthy family. But her husband treated her terribly. He was a notorious playboy with violent tendencies. Yet, she loved the money and the status, so she kept dragging her feet, refusing to get a divorce. She had posted an Instagram story this morning: “Hangovers are the worst. My head feels like it’s going to explode.” I didn’t even need to think to know who Liam was in such a rush to comfort. 5. In the afternoon. Liam called and told me to come downstairs. When I opened the car door, my sister was sitting in the passenger seat. Liam said, “I bumped into your sister downstairs. She said she’d come help give you some advice.” He had a tiny, fresh cut on his lip. My sister’s lips were also very red, her lipstick slightly smudged. She chimed in, “Yeah, I’ll help you pick. I have a pretty good eye for these things.” I nodded faintly. “Sure, you have plenty of experience.” Seeing my unusually calm reaction, she added, “I get a little carsick, so sitting in the front passenger seat makes me feel better. You don’t mind, do you?” Before I could answer. Liam spoke up first: “Why would she mind? A seat is a seat, right, Chloe?” “Yeah.” Halfway there, my sister suddenly said: “Oh, by the way, let me share some good news with you both. I got a divorce.” The car slammed to a sudden halt, throwing me forward. Liam’s voice was hoarse. “You got a divorce?” My sister smiled, her lips curling up. “Yeah, I got a divorce. I couldn’t do it anymore. I want a fresh start.” Liam stared at her for a long time. The two of them looked like they were shooting a soap opera. I had to interrupt: “What are we waiting for? Why aren’t we moving?” 6. The car ride was thick with unspoken tension until we finally arrived at the bridal boutique. I tried on the first dress. When I stepped out of the fitting room… Liam was still talking to my sister, completely ignoring me. It wasn’t until the consultant praised me out loud that he finally turned his head to look at me. I looked him dead in the eye with a polite smile. “It looks great. Really beautiful. Let’s just go with this one.” I clenched my fists. “Just this one?” My sister flipped her hair and said, “Come on, you’re not even trying. Let her try on a few more.” Suddenly, my sister’s ex-husband, Derek, burst through the doors. Derek grabbed my sister’s wrist, glaring at her furiously. “You got me drunk last night and tricked me into signing the divorce papers! How the hell did you dare?!” My sister immediately hid behind Liam. “You signed them yourself. Stop harassing me.” Liam lunged forward and threw two punches at him. “You’re divorced! How dare you harass her? Back the fuck off!” Derek was knocked to the floor. But as he fell, he crashed into me. In my high heels, I lost my balance and fell hard to the floor. A sharp pain shot through my ankle. Liam grabbed Derek by the collar and told him to get out. When Liam rushed back in, he ran straight to my sister. “Mia, are you okay?” The consultant looked at me with a complicated expression and helped me up. “Mr. Carter, Miss Chloe seems to have sprained her ankle.” Only then did he run over to check on me. But the very next second, my sister fainted. He turned around without hesitation, picked her up, and said, “Chloe, I’m taking your sister to the hospital. You just… keep trying dresses on yourself.” 7. “Okay. Remember to come back.” My ankle throbbed, but after standing up, it felt manageable. I could still walk. The consultant asked me with a hesitant look, “Miss Chloe, should we… try on some other dresses?” “No need. Maybe another time.” As expected, Liam never came back to the bridal shop that entire day. He texted me to go home and rest, saying my sister was very weak and needed to be hospitalized, so he was staying to take care of her. 8. Late in the dead of night, I took off my phone case and pulled out a photograph. Ethan, did you see? I wore a wedding dress today. However, the only answer I got was the endless, silent night. The next day, I drove alone to a cemetery outside the city. Standing in front of Ethan’s headstone were a married couple and a little boy. I was a bit surprised. “Excuse me, who are you?” The couple looked visibly moved when they saw me. “Ethan was our savior. You must be his girlfriend, right?” I nodded, bewildered. “Your boyfriend donated his corneas to our son. I really don’t know how to properly thank his family. Please, take this bank card…” My heart violently clenched. I looked down at the little boy with big, bright eyes, and my vision instantly blurred with tears. “Little guy, is your name Liam Carter?” The little boy nodded. “Yes, miss. My name is Liam.” So I was wrong this entire time. I found the wrong person. The man who possessed Ethan’s eyes was never the Liam Carter I had been dating. The couple kept talking, but it felt like all the sound was sucked out of the world. I smiled through my tears and patted the little boy’s head. “Liam, it’s so nice to meet you. You have to grow up strong, okay?” 9. The little boy nodded, looking up at me. “Miss, what kind of person was the big brother?” “Him? He was the coolest, gentlest person in the world. He would beat up anyone who tried to bully me.” The little boy handed me his umbrella. “Don’t be sad, miss. I’m giving you my umbrella. The big brother will definitely protect you from up in heaven.” I patted his head. “Thank you.” I didn’t take the bank card. After they left, I slowly crouched down and traced the photograph on the headstone. “Ethan, are you mad at me for finding the wrong person?” The Liam I found wasn’t the Liam I was looking for. He was just a completely irrelevant stranger. While I was trying to figure out how to meet him, he actually approached me first, so we ended up together. Every time I looked into his eyes, I forced myself to show him my best self. But when he closed his eyes, I didn’t even have the strength to smile. In this moment, the obsession that had haunted me for so long simply dissolved into thin air. Liam called my phone. I hung up without a second thought. The wind howled past my ears under the heavy, pouring rain. The man on the headstone had sharp, striking features. His dark eyelashes drooped softly, his eyes filled with an ocean of tenderness. I took that photo of him. But when I took it, I never imagined it would be turned into a black-and-white portrait glued to a freezing headstone. I whispered to him, “Ethan, when are you going to wear a suit for me?” “Do you think maybe this is all just a dream? That tomorrow I’ll wake up, and you’ll be alive?” “If you can hear me, make the rain stop. Please?” 10. Suddenly, the raindrops began to lighten. The rapid drumming against the umbrella slowly faded away. The rain… actually stopped. A breeze from the distance ruffled my hair. And dried the tears at the corners of my eyes. It felt so incredibly gentle. The strands of hair brushing against my cheek felt exactly like him stroking my face. “Don’t cry. I’ve always been right here beside you.” I was suddenly pulled back to the summer I was seventeen. That day, my sister and I had a huge fight. She moved her stuff into my bedroom without asking, taking over my space. We got into a physical fight, and my stepmother couldn’t pull us apart. When my dad got home, he didn’t even ask what happened. He just slapped me across the face so hard my head whipped to the side. “Look at your sister’s face! You scratched her up!” I slammed the door and ran away, sprinting straight to Ethan. Inside his tattoo parlor, I kept my head down the entire time. But he walked over and ruffled my hair. “Why are your eyes so red? Who’d you get into a fight with?” “No one. I just tripped and fell.” But he grabbed a first-aid kit. With his long, tattoo-covered fingers, he gently cleaned my scratches. “Tell me who bullied you.” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I threw myself into his chest and sobbed uncontrollably. I soaked the thin black shirt he was wearing. He usually kept a polite distance from me, but that time, he didn’t push me away. He just gently patted my back. Eventually, I fell asleep in his arms. Ever since my mom passed away, that was the warmest embrace I had ever felt. I fell hopelessly, incurably in love with him. Of course, it was a secret crush. On the outside, he looked tough and cold, but in reality, he was gentler than anyone I had ever known.

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