Category: English

My class teacher, the notorious “Female Demon,” confiscated a love letter a classmate gave me, but she didn’t make a fuss about it. I thought I had escaped a calamity. Unexpectedly, at the parent-teacher meeting, she took it out and made me read it aloud in front of everyone. I stared at the gazes of all the parents and classmates, whispering a plea: “Can we talk about this in private?” The class teacher looked at me with contempt: “You’re not afraid of losing face when you do such shameless things?” “I insist on seeing who this shameless boy is today!” I was dumbfounded. That person is your son! 1 At the parent-teacher meeting, I went on stage as the outstanding student representative to give a speech. Just as I finished my thanks and was about to step down, the class teacher grabbed me. With a stern face, she took out the love letter someone gave me that she had confiscated last week. “In my fifteen years of teaching, this is the first time I’ve encountered puppy love!” “Today I must strictly rectify this matter!” I was stunned. I knew the class teacher’s personality of making mountains out of molehills. At first, I rejoiced, thinking she had let me off, but I didn’t expect she was saving it specifically for the parent-teacher meeting. She deliberately wanted to embarrass me and that classmate in front of all the parents! Sure enough, the parents below immediately started whispering, and my parents stared with wide eyes in shock. I hesitated. Should I directly say it was her son, Liam Parker, who wrote it to me? But the class teacher cherished her reputation the most. I thought about it and decided it was more important to protect his reputation, so I said awkwardly: “Can we talk about this in private?” Hearing this, the sneer on the class teacher’s face became even more obvious. “Now you know shame? Now you know it’s embarrassing? What were you doing before?” “Student Chloe Stone, I know you were passive, but you took the love letter and hid it, wanting to shield him. That’s your problem.” “Today I must drag out this shameless boy who wrote the love letter!” My dad stood up, his face a bit unnatural: “Teacher Lee, the children are grown up and know what self-esteem is. With so many people watching, how about we parents discuss it privately…” “Discuss it? Am I asking you two families to arrange a blind date?” “If you parents don’t take it seriously, fine, go home and reflect for a few days.” Hearing about going home to reflect, my dad instantly fell silent. The class teacher paused, and a thick hand pressed on my shoulder: “Read it, read it aloud.” Before being forced to read the love letter, I glanced at Liam. His face alternated between green and white, as if going through some difficult decision. I bit the bullet and read the love letter: “Dear Chloe Stone… Since seeing you in freshman year, your face has been circling in my mind. In class, sleeping, resting, running, even during exams, I’m thinking of you.” “Stop, stop, stop, let me say a few words!” The class teacher frowned deeply, knocking on the podium with a board, signaling everyone to look at her. “See, students! This is the harm of puppy love! It directly affects studies and exams!” “Everyone knows my child Liam, right? First in the grade from freshman to senior year!” “It’s because he puts all his mind on studying!” After speaking, the class teacher frowned at me again: “Especially you, Chloe Stone, you should look up to him the most.” “Alright, continue reading.” I held back the吐槽 in my heart. Look up to your son, huh? Isn’t he the one who wrote me the love letter? 2 I continued reading: “Chloe, I can’t get enough of looking at you. This is my happiest year, the year closest to you. Before, I always liked listening to the teacher carefully, but since we came to the same class, I’ve been looking at you…” The class teacher raised her hand to signal me to pause; obviously, she was starting her drama again. “Students, what should you look at in class? The blackboard and the teacher! Not other students’ faces!” “Why can Liam always keep up with the teacher’s pace and answer questions in time?” “Because he is focused and undistracted in learning and thinking during class!” “How can such a student not have good grades? How can teachers not like him?” After speaking, the class teacher aimed the gun at me again. She said with disgust: “Unlike some students in our class who affect others in class, black sheep!” My hand gripping the love letter was already trembling a little. If the class teacher knew that the person she kept telling me to learn from happened to be the one who had a crush on me and looked at me in class, what would she think? I was standing up there, and my parents down below were also embarrassed. I quickly finished reading the last few sentences of the love letter, just wanting to end it quickly and get off the stage. “Chloe, can you consider being with me? I am sincere… and will be responsible for you.” After reading this sentence, the audience was in an uproar. My parents opened their mouths in disbelief, and the class teacher’s face turned completely black. The students’ faces were more colorful than the next. “Serious and responsible?” “Do you guys think the class beauty Chloe has already done that with someone…” “Shh, keep your voice down, my dad is behind me.” Questioning gazes scrutinized me constantly. Some parents even started to be frivolous: “Really unexpected, she looked quite decent…” Smack! Liam suddenly slammed the table, his voice stern. 3 “Please keep quiet and watch your words!” Parents and students looked over at the sound, muttering: “What’s he pretending to be high and mighty for? I don’t believe he’s not gossipy at all!” “Son, this is that Liam Parker in your class, right…” “Hey, don’t you know? Apart from studying, I’m afraid nothing can shake him!” Although there was less discussion, everyone looked a bit unhappy. The class teacher paused and smiled: “Please don’t blame him, everyone.” “My Liam is just too rigid, never thinking about anything other than studying.” The class teacher was still chattering, and I just wanted to get off the stage. The class teacher’s requirement was that I could get off after finishing reading. Now I had finished reading. But she was quick, grabbing my collar, aggressive. “Why are you in such a hurry to get down?” “You haven’t said who it is yet?” I asked in disbelief: “Didn’t you say I didn’t have to say it after reading the love letter?” The class teacher didn’t expect me to retort and said angrily: “You don’t have to say it, fine. Stand on the stage then. You can go down when that person stands up!” I got anxious: “But you clearly promised me just now.” She sneered: “Saying it like that makes it my fault.” “Fine then! You go down. Bear the consequences yourself!” Now I was really uncomfortable. I originally didn’t say it just to protect the relationship between the two of them. The class teacher kept pressing, just to force out who it was from my mouth. As if I were the object she wanted to interrogate and isolate. But I just wanted to help her hide the truth about her son’s puppy love. Liam had the most honors in the whole school. Getting a disciplinary action for this would definitely affect the upcoming internal recruitment. The class teacher valued her reputation like her life. If she made such a big fool of herself today, I couldn’t imagine how big a blow it would be to her! Thinking about it, my eyes became misty. A parent couldn’t help but try to persuade: “Why not let it go? The kids are almost adults and have their pride.” The class teacher intensified her efforts, scolding: “What pride! Do they even know pride? One is impure, the other dares to do it but not admit it!” “After doing it, you won’t even let me talk about it?” “Am I not thinking for the class? Pains-takingly trying to have a good learning atmosphere?” “Saying it like that makes it my fault instead!” That parent’s face changed and retreated into the crowd. Liam finally raised his head and gritted his teeth: “Teacher! Actually…” 4 “What are you guys doing?” The dean and the school committee superiors walked over with serious faces, interrupting Liam. Knowing the class teacher was holding a parent-teacher meeting today, they intended to show their faces, especially after hearing such a big commotion. With the dean backing her, the class teacher became even more unscrupulous. “In my opinion, parents should reflect on themselves the most!” “Especially the boy’s parents. If their child does something like that, is there any family education at all? Have the parents put any thought into their child!” After speaking, the class teacher frowned as if helpless: “Don’t look at Liam being so disciplined and motivated. That’s all because of me! I wish I could watch and manage him 24 hours a day! That’s how I cultivated so many excellent habits in him!” “I don’t know how some parents raise their children usually to develop such problems!” Various questioning gazes scanned around and finally landed on my parents’ faces. I endured it when she picked on me, but I didn’t want my parents to suffer discrimination along with me. Besides, didn’t Liam send me the love letter under your “strict watch” 24 hours a day?! I retorted: “What’s wrong with my parents? At least I’m an outstanding student representative.” “Also, I don’t even know what ‘that kind of thing’ you’re talking about is!” The class teacher sneered as if hearing a joke: “I’ve been teaching for so many years and understand student psychology too well. You won’t shed tears until you see the coffin. If you insist on pretending, then let me ask you, did you or did you not have… with that boy…” “Teacher!” In the crowd of parents, my mom stood out anxiously. If the class teacher really said those words, her daughter’s reputation would be ruined for life. “I know my Chloe’s character. She wouldn’t do such things.” The class teacher smiled without warmth: “Chloe’s mother, I understand how you feel as parents. I don’t want this to happen either.” “But you were completely unaware that your daughter received a love letter and was about to engage in puppy love.” My mom was anxious: “Yes! Teacher, we parents didn’t watch carefully regarding receiving the love letter!” “But one thing is one thing. Those are all guesses.” “But if you say that with so many people here, my daughter’s reputation will be ruined. Her life will be over…” The class teacher retorted sarcastically: “How did I say it? Which sentence of mine is wrong?” “Did she receive a love letter? Was it written in the love letter?” “I believe Chloe too, but which boy at this age isn’t like dry wood and raging fire?” My mom was choked, “B-but…” The class teacher waved her hand: “Fine! I understand, girls are all shy.” “Then let your daughter call out that shameless boy! Isn’t she hiding and avoiding by not mentioning a word about that boy!” Instantly, the eyes of all classmates and parents turned back to me, and my mom looked at me anxiously. As long as I said it, all problems would be gone. I fell silent. Discussions rose again offstage: “Holy crap, is it true?” “Must be, she doesn’t even dare to say the boy’s name.” My mom wanted to explain for me, but only opened her mouth, not knowing what to refute. The class teacher sneered: “Don’t blame yourself too much. In the end, you just made a mistake in this matter.” “The one who should reflect most is that shameless boy.” “Claiming to like her, yet letting her bear the pressure alone on stage! Is this what boys call sincerity? Simply ridiculous!” “Not even daring to stand up and admit it, what responsibility do you have?” Smack! Liam stood up, his gaze burning.

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My niece was diagnosed with a rare disease, and the hospital’s consultation yielded no solutions. So, seven years after our breakup, I had no choice but to dial Ethan Walker’s number. The top expert in the field was my ex-boyfriend. He was also the boy I personally crushed into the mud on a rainy night seven years ago. 1 “Who is this?” The voice on the phone was cold, tinged with faint exhaustion, as if he had just come out of surgery. “It’s me,” I whispered. Silence fell on the other end. Afraid he would hang up immediately, I quickly explained my reason: “My niece, Lily, has a rare disease and needs surgery. I checked, and you’re the only one in the field who can do it.” “Ethan, she’s only six… Can you, please, help her?” I waited anxiously for Ethan’s answer. I didn’t know how long passed before Ethan’s voice came again. “Send the address and case file to my email. I have another surgery tonight. I’ll come over after I’m done.” He agreed. I let out a huge sigh of relief. After hanging up, I collapsed onto the cot, my palms damp with sweat. For a moment, I wanted to thank all the gods that Ethan still retained a doctor’s benevolent heart after everything he had been through. 2 I thought since Ethan had surgery at night, he wouldn’t come until the next day. Unexpectedly, in the middle of the night, just as I was dozing off, my phone lit up. 【I’m here.】 I was dazed for a moment. Looking up through the glass, I saw Ethan standing outside the ward. There was a girl next to him. I walked out of the ward, closing the door gently so as not to wake the sleeping Lily. Before I could speak, Ethan briefly explained the situation in a few words. “I’ve seen Lily’s case file. We need to wait until tomorrow to have another consultation with colleagues here to further confirm the condition.” “Chloe is my colleague. I might be busy in a couple of days. If I’m not around and there’s something wrong with the patient, look for her first.” Chloe had a high ponytail. Even though there was some fatigue from the long journey on her face, it couldn’t hide her bright and capable aura. She smiled at me, greeted me simply and generously, then turned to Ethan. “Senior, you guys talk. I have to go back first; I have a cat to feed at home.” Ethan nodded. So in the quiet hospital corridor, only Ethan and I were left. I suddenly felt a little nervous. “You…” “Sarah…” We spoke at the same time and stopped at the same time. “You go first.” Ethan took a step back and put his briefcase on the chair. I was speechless for a moment, so I racked my brains to find something to say. “Isn’t Dr. Hart your colleague? How come she lives here and has a cat?” …What a lame topic. Ethan was also silent. Just when I thought he wouldn’t answer, Ethan spoke. “Her parents’ house is here. The cat is a rescued stray. It loves to go out and isn’t afraid of people, so it often follows her around.” My heart trembled suddenly. Because of the natural familiarity with Chloe revealed in his words. “Is that what you wanted to ask?” Under the dim lights of the corridor, Ethan looked at me, his gaze obscure. After seven years apart, he looked steadier and calmer. He was no longer the boy covered in mess the year we broke up. I opened my mouth, not knowing what to say. What happened back then has been over for so long. Is there any point in bringing it up now? So I changed the subject. “You just said Lily’s condition needs to wait for tomorrow’s consultation.” “Are you… confident?” Ethan closed his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was calm and distant, completely dispelling the subtle atmosphere lingering between us. “Rare diseases are classified as rare for a reason.” “I will do my best.” A silent silence spread between us. Ethan gave me a fixed look, turned, and prepared to walk away. I instinctively looked up. My body moved faster than my brain, and I grabbed his hand. Ethan froze. My brain slowly came back online, and I withdrew my hand as if electrocuted. —But he grabbed it. Ethan held my wrist, turned back, his gaze trembling slightly. Then he lowered his eyes, hiding the suppressed emotions, and spoke hoarsely. “Sarah, you dumped me back then. Don’t provoke me now.” “As a patient’s family member, please have some self-respect.” My heart instantly ached like it was being cut by a knife. The moment Ethan let go, I fled. I didn’t look back, so I didn’t know that Ethan stood there for a long time. Nor did I know that he watched my retreating figure, forbearing and restrained, bringing the palm that had held mine to his lips, leaving a very light, very light kiss. 3 I sat by Lily’s bed all night. The first person to come in the next day was Chloe. “You and Senior Walker are old acquaintances, right?” She chatted with me while taking samples from the comatose Lily. “…I guess so.” “No wonder. I was wondering why he dragged me here in such a hurry last night. I’ve never seen him care so much about rare cases before.” “You guys must be very close, right?” She neatly packed up the instruments and handed them to the nurse, then turned around, looking at me with a mix of nervousness and anticipation. “Um… sis, do you know how to pursue Senior Walker?” “What?” I was stunned. Chloe counted on her fingers and added. “You guys are so close, but you don’t seem to interact much usually. I’ve known him for three years and haven’t seen you.” “Senior Walker has always been single. His social media and phone screensaver are clean.” “So you must be childhood friends, the kind with a very strong bond, right?” Her eyes were bright, like sunflowers blooming in summer. “I’ve liked Senior Walker for a long time, but he’s always been cold, and no one can find a breakthrough point.” “Can you tell me about him? Daily hobbies, little things from the past, anything is fine.” My thoughts were in a trance for a moment. Memories sealed for too long were opened by Chloe in a few words, disturbing my long-silent heart. Ethan and I met very early. When I moved to South City for school at eleven, he was the first friend I made. Ethan’s family was very poor. His parents died early, and he only had his grandmother to depend on. He wore a school uniform washed white, and took the first-place scholarship every year without fail. Consequently, the bullying and isolation from the little hooligans in school also never stopped. As a transfer student from outside, after rejecting their bullying invitations twice, I was also classified as an outcast like Ethan. The leader of this group of hooligans was Brad, whose father was a local tyrant in South City. Ethan, worried about his elderly grandmother, wouldn’t fight back even when cornered and beaten. But my parents were alive and well, and I had a sister in the police academy. Growing up, I only caused trouble and was never afraid of it. So when I passed by the alley, I picked up a brick and smashed Brad’s head from behind until it bled. The hooligans scattered, revealing Ethan, covered in dust in the corner. The moment he looked up in astonishment, only one thought remained in my mind. —He’s damn beautiful. No wonder he’s targeted. My whole family is good-looking, and I’m a picky face-judger. So being attracted to Ethan was a matter of course. I cut out the parts about myself and simply told Chloe the story. After listening, the little girl’s eyes turned red. “So Senior Walker had it so hard before…” “Yeah, so when he was in school, he worked really hard.” Making it so that I spent half my life chasing but could never catch up. When Ethan walked over, Chloe had already wiped her tears. She dutifully reported Lily’s condition to Ethan, the conversation mixed with many terms I couldn’t understand. The sunlight spilled in from the window, shining warmly on them. They looked perfectly matched. It hurt me extremely too. My chest felt sour and swollen, nearly suffocating. 4 After their handover, Chloe went to busy herself with other things. Ethan walked into the ward with the treatment plan. He frowned the moment he saw me. “You didn’t sleep last night?” I closed my sore eyes and shook my head at him, unwilling to talk more. “So Lily…” “The treatment plan is out. Is Lily’s guardian here?” “I am her guardian.” I said softly. “What?” Ethan was obviously stunned. Counting back from age, I was only nineteen when Lily was born. It was impossible for me to have given birth to her. But in a moment, he realized something. “Your sister…” “Three years ago, she died in the line of duty with my brother-in-law.” Following the fragmentation of my happy family, my dearest sister also died the year I graduated. I stated calmly with lowered eyes, my fingers clenched tightly where they couldn’t be seen, nails digging into flesh, hurting my palms. “Sarah…” “Ethan.” I interrupted his unfinished words, my voice trembling uncontrollably despite my efforts. The emotions stirred up when talking about the past with Chloe finally lost control upon hitting memories of my family. I looked up at Ethan, my throat terribly hoarse, speaking almost chokingly. “Ethan… I know I wronged you before, but I beg you… no matter what, save Lily.” She is my only remaining relative. Ethan pursed his lips, squatted halfway, and placed his palm gently on my shoulder. He said: “Okay.” “I promise you.” He withdrew the original treatment plan and called back the colleagues for consultation again. I didn’t know what exactly they discussed, but it must have caused quite a stir within the hospital. Even the doctors looked at me with slightly different eyes. But after the plan was finalized, I barely saw him again. Only on the rare occasions when he needed to observe the patient personally would he come, record, and leave in a hurry. Our communication didn’t exceed five sentences, three of which ended with single words like “mm” or “okay”. He said he would be busy, but I didn’t expect him to be this busy. Instead, Chloe spent more and more time with me to follow up on the condition. She worked very seriously, with steady hands and fast movements. Even though Lily was in a coma almost all day, she tried her best to reduce the pain Lily suffered during treatment. She was an excellent person. Perhaps the single ward was too quiet. Chloe suddenly spoke, like chatting but also probing. “Speaking of which, Senior Walker really cares about this case. He never actively used such a radical plan before.” “Radical plan?” I froze on the spot. Chloe seemed to realize something and quickly explained: “Sorry, sorry, you might not understand if you don’t know. Basically, the surgery is effective, but the success rate is relatively low, so the hospital usually recommends more conservative treatment.” “But for a rare disease like Lily’s, the effect of conservative treatment… existing clinical data isn’t very good. It just prolongs it a bit.” Her voice lowered, somewhat regretful. “You are Senior Walker’s friend, so I’m telling you the truth. Even with him as the lead surgeon, only one case of such surgery has been successful.” “But that case… didn’t survive the post-operative complications in the end.” “So…” I opened my mouth, my voice trembling unconsciously. “That’s why many people in the hospital disapprove. If something really happens on the operating table… besides the lead surgeon, they will also be implicated.” “He was already busy enough, and recently he’s been running to other provinces every day to find contacts, begging those retired teachers to help.” No wonder he often disappeared recently, coming and going in a hurry. No wonder his face often showed eraseable fatigue, and the faint dark circles under his eyes never faded. I don’t remember what Chloe rambled about afterward. I only knew that what Ethan did for me could no longer be covered simply by “a doctor’s benevolence.” I leaned over the bed, looking at Lily’s weak face with the ventilator. Tears fell drop by drop, spreading dark marks on the snow-white sheets. Chloe often chatted with me, fantasizing about what Ethan would be like when he was in love. Would he still be so cold? Would he be a straight man who doesn’t even know how to give gifts? Every time I agreed, there was a clear voice in my heart. He won’t. The way Ethan loves someone is sincere and vivid, the brightest stroke in the colors of my memory. He would agree to all my unreasonable requests. When he was a class committee member, he turned a blind eye to my skipping classes, and helped me hide my unwritten homework from the teacher. Everyone in the family knew Ethan was a good student. Whenever they asked about my recent situation at school, I begged him to put in a few good words for me. He agreed to everything, never saying no. Although I loved to play and make trouble, I was smart enough. I finally got into the same key high school as him by just meeting the cutoff score. In high school, his grades were still top-notch, so I pestered him to explain problems to me every now and then. I suffered from math for a long time, so Ethan broke down the problems one by one and explained them to me. We gradually became the two who left the latest after school. At first, the homeroom teacher suspected us of puppy love and wanted to catch us in the act. Unexpectedly, he caught us, but instead of love letters, he found stacks of densely written scratch paper. Ethan explained patiently, and I listened seriously, learning by analogy. My grades improved by leaps and bounds. So much so that when we really got together later, the teachers just mentioned it once and let it go. “Ethan and Sarah? Let them date however they want. It won’t affect their grades. Breaking them up might actually cause trouble.” So throughout high school, we were the only couple in the school who could hold hands openly. Occasionally, a few troublemakers were dissatisfied, but they were all shut down by the teacher’s sentence: “If you can stabilize at either Ethan or Sarah’s score, you can date freely too.” We walked side by side through the hardest winter and welcomed the busy and vibrant summer. My birthday was on the eve of the college entrance exam. That night, Ethan passed me a note for the first time. I remembered the time and place on the note, ignoring the fatigue of finishing the test papers, and quietly sneaked out of the dormitory in the middle of the night. In the midsummer of my eighteenth year, I saw the most beautiful scenery in my memory. It was a sea of blue flowers. In a hidden corner by the playground, Ethan used countless bouquets as a base and caught dozens of fireflies to dance as candles. My favorite blue daisies were woven into the most unique birthday cake by my favorite person, presented on the day I became an adult. The boy stood in the center of the flower sea, his eyes as bright as a thousand stars. He said: “Sarah, happy birthday.” At that time, I thought I was the happiest person in the world. At that time, I thought this moment would be eternal. But I was wrong. After the college entrance exam, I returned home. What greeted me was not the smiles of my parents and fragrant meals. —But bright red, dazzling blood in the stairwell. My sister hugged me tightly, her brand-new police badge hurting my cheek. I pieced together the truth of the story from her tearful narration. Cheating father, mother enduring for my exam, pregnant mistress coming to the door… A slip of the hand during my father’s shoving, my mother rolled down the stairs and hit a sharp steel pipe in the trash pile in the stairwell. A seemingly happy family was shattered in just a few hours. And the call from the hooligan Brad was the last straw that broke me. “My dad knows about your family’s mess.” The hooligan laughed carelessly, his tone disgusting. At eighteen, I gripped the phone tightly, trembling uncontrollably. “Your sister just became a little police officer, right? Is she still an intern?” “Well, I’m not a bad person. Dump Ethan hard, and I won’t mess with your sister, how about it?” “Oh, didn’t that little bastard test out of the province? It’s a long way off, and his old hag at home can’t reach him, right?” “Step him into the mud alone, or let everyone become stray dogs. You choose.” When the phone hung up, I couldn’t tell if I was calm or numb. The Ethan I loved would never give up his grandmother, whom he depended on for life. I only had my sister left as a relative. Besides… I looked up at the gray sky. Fine rain hit my face, rolling down mixed with tears. A doctor with a bright future shouldn’t have a lover born of a murderer. I didn’t want to be the only stain on Ethan. I had an agreement with him, agreeing that we would soar thousands of miles and stand side by side in the clouds. I broke the promise.

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Five years after we broke up, I ran into Owen Sinclair thirty thousand feet in the air. The girl in his arms had a purple tinge to her face and was struggling to breathe. His forehead was threaded with frantic veins as he yelled: “A doctor! Is there a doctor on board?” I pushed past the cluster of gawking passengers and knelt down, ignoring the shock in his eyes. “I’m the purser. I have aviation medical emergency certification.” He immediately clamped down on my wrist, his gaze filled with panic and mistrust. “Maya Thorne! If you have a problem with me, take it up with me. Don’t touch the child!” He lowered his voice, the words meant only for me. “The accident five years ago—Sienna was cleared! Don’t you dare go crazy on me.” I pulled my hand free, my fingers already expertly checking the girl’s pupils and pulse. “Mr. Sinclair,” I said, meeting his trembling gaze head-on. “Right now, I am the most qualified person on this entire plane to save her.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. He wanted to argue, but under my steady, icy stare, he finally backed away, defeated. Oxygen mask, emergency injection, continuous monitoring… I executed every action with precision and speed. It wasn’t until the girl’s face began to flush pink and her breathing stabilized that I let out a long breath. I stood, turning toward the rear galley. 1 The flight was diverted and grounded at a regional airport due to a massive thunderstorm. All flights were canceled, and the terminal lobby was absolute chaos. I stood on the curb, the wind wet and cold, dragging my suitcase. My rideshare app showed 99+ people ahead of me in the queue. A black Maybach, splashing through puddles, slid silently to a stop in front of me. The window lowered, revealing Owen’s face, a mixture of fatigue and complex emotions. In the passenger seat, Sienna, clutching the newly awakened child, gave me a shy, timid greeting: “Maya.” I acted as if I hadn’t heard her, my eyes still glued to my phone screen. The car door opened. Owen stepped out and strode directly toward me, roughly snatching my suitcase and tossing it into the trunk. “You won’t get a cab in this weather.” His voice carried the same non-negotiable arrogance as always. “Don’t be difficult. Get in.” I was half-pushed, half-shoved into the backseat. The moment the door shut, it sealed out the wind and rain, but also trapped me in this suffocating space. The piano music flowing from the speakers—it was the song we used to play most often when we were falling in love. Now, every note felt like a sneer at my past. Sienna watched me carefully through the rearview mirror. “Owen, thank goodness for Maya’s help,” she began, her voice soft and weak, before pivoting. “But I’m still a little shaken. What if… what if Maya was still angry and used that moment to…” “Enough.” Owen snapped the command coldly. Sienna immediately fell silent, wounded, her eyes welling up with tears. I gave a silent, cold laugh. The same old routine. Five years, and nothing had changed. After snapping at Sienna, Owen turned his attention to me, meeting my eyes in the rearview mirror. His tone was a blend of high-horse condescension and a thinly veiled threat. “What happened is over. Sienna has paid for her mistakes.” “Maya, you need to move on.” I finally looked up, meeting his stare, and let my cold laugh escape. “Where you two aren’t is always a better view.” Owen’s breath hitched, and a flash of embarrassment crossed his handsome face. His gaze involuntarily slid to my left ring finger. Seeing it bare, his tense jawline seemed to relax for a brief moment. In the depths of his eyes, I caught a fleeting, almost undetectable flicker of relief. The car smoothly entered a glittering, affluent gated community—Sinclair territory. He had simply decided to bring me back to his family home without asking. “Get out. Your clothes are soaked. Go inside and change, and while you’re at it, talk to my parents.” He stopped the car, his voice a command laced with an imperceptible thread of testing. Outside, his parents, Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, were waiting under umbrellas, clearly having been alerted. The moment they saw me climb out of the back seat, their faces contorted. Mrs. Sinclair’s shrill voice cut through the rain. “Why did you bring this jinx back here!” The rain instantly soaked my uniform, chilling me to the bone. I stood my ground, unmoving. Owen frowned and stepped forward, trying to grab my wrist. “Don’t stand in the rain. Get inside and change!” I violently yanked my hand away, my eyes colder than the rainy night. “I have my own home, Mr. Sinclair. Save your concern.” With that, I didn’t look back at him, or at the mansion where I had once dreamed of a future. I turned my back and walked with finality into the endless downpour. Behind me, I heard Sienna’s feigned cry of worry and Owen’s frustrated, complex roar. “Maya Thorne!” The rain blurred my vision, washing over scars that had long since healed over. I told myself this was the last time. 2 I climbed into a passing cab, dripping wet. The blast of heat inside made me shiver, and the next moment, my stomach began to spasm violently. A sudden cold sweat drenched my back. I doubled over in the back seat, the pain forcing a familiar memory to the surface: the rainy night five years ago. My mother lying in a pool of blood. Sienna, the driver who hit her, panicked and blocked the ambulance, screaming about a staged accident. She single-handedly delayed life-saving intervention by the most crucial ten minutes. And Owen? He had used every connection the Sinclair heir had to smother the scandal. It was ultimately classified as a simple “traffic accident.” Afterward, they had the audacity to try to placate me with a check stained with my mother’s blood. My phone buzzed, dragging me back to the present. The screen showed a new WeChat/text request: Owen Sinclair. The accompanying message read: “You’ll catch a cold soaking wet. I’m outside your building.” I glanced out the window. That glaring Maybach was indeed parked outside the dilapidated apartment complex I rented. I ignored it, paid the driver, and headed straight for the 24-hour pharmacy on the corner. Just as I got my stomach medicine, I turned and was instantly cornered. Owen’s towering figure loomed over me. He was holding a thermal container filled with the hot rice porridge from the place I used to love. His brow was deeply furrowed. He softened his tone, yet it was edged with impatient pity. “Maya, stop torturing yourself in this kind of slumming. ” “Just apologize, come back to me, and I’ll set you up with an apartment that’s a hundred times better than this.” I looked at him, then took the thermal container of hot porridge. He thought I had finally given in. Instead, I raised my arm and threw the porridge, container and all, with accurate aim into the nearby public trash bin. “Maya Thorne!” His rage was instant, the veins bulging. But he violently suppressed it, the fury finally dissolving into a weary sigh. “When are you going to stop being so sharp?” I pointed a finger at his chest, every word heavy with pain. “The day you shielded a killer, that was the end of us.” Owen’s eyes flickered wildly. He took a step forward, trying to grab my shoulders. “Sienna was a victim, too. She was just terrified…” Slap! The sharp sound of the strike echoed loudly in the quiet rain. I had used every ounce of my strength. His face snapped to the side, a clear, red imprint of my fingers blooming on his cheek. He froze, clearly never having expected me to resort to violence. Just then, his phone’s video call ringtone cut through the air. Sienna’s tear-streaked face appeared on the screen, crying that she was dizzy and felt unwell. The anger and conflict in Owen’s eyes were instantly replaced by alarm. He hastily hung up the phone, cast me one last look—a complexity I couldn’t read—and then his voice was ice. “You are impossible.” “Maya, don’t ever ask me for help again.” Watching the taillights of the Maybach drive decisively away, I finally lost my strength. Clutching my aching stomach, I slowly crouched down on the wet sidewalk. My phone gave a soft chime in my pocket, the screen lighting up with a new message. From the contact labeled L: “Off work yet? I’m coming to get you.” A faint warmth, like a weak current, flowed back into my freezing heart. 3 I forced myself into the preparation room for my early morning flight, running on nothing but willpower. To my surprise, Sienna was listed as a VIP passenger in first class. Owen wasn’t on board, but he had personally called my direct supervisor, Marcus—a longtime sycophant of the Sinclairs—and specifically instructed him to give “special care” to Ms. Sienna. Throughout the flight, I maintained my professional smile, serving every passenger. When I got to Sienna, she requested a glass of red wine. I placed the glass steadily on her small tray table and turned to leave. A sharp shriek erupted behind me. I spun around. A large patch of red wine was splattered across the front of her white dress. The empty wine glass was rolling on the floor by her feet. She covered her chest, looking up at me with fake, tearful innocence. Her voice was quiet, yet loud enough for the surrounding passengers to hear. “Maya… I know you’re still angry, but how could you do this to me?” All eyes snapped to me, filled with scrutiny and implicit blame. Before I could even speak, Marcus rushed in from the back. He didn’t spare me a glance, addressing Sienna directly. “Ms. Sienna, please don’t be upset. I’ll handle this immediately!” He then turned to me, his face livid. “Maya Thorne! Apologize to Ms. Sienna right now!” I met his rage with cold indifference. “I need to see the cabin video.” “See what video!” Marcus slammed my phone down on the counter. “The company is ordering you to apologize, so apologize! Don’t make this harder on yourself!” After the plane landed, I was immediately escorted to the airline’s corporate office. Sienna sat on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket, shivering dramatically. Marcus stood beside her, adding exaggerated details to his report. The office door burst open. Owen strode in. He went directly to Sienna, smoothly taking off his own suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders, murmuring soft words of comfort. Then he turned to me, his eyes blazing with a “how could you” disappointment. “It’s just an apology, Maya. How hard can that be?” “Don’t throw your career away over something so petty.” I met his stare, asking one word at a time. “An apology? Is this to clear Sienna’s ‘innocence’ yet again?” Owen’s gaze wavered. He avoided my eyes. Furious, he stepped forward and grabbed my wrist, his grip alarmingly tight, attempting to drag me forcefully in front of Sienna. “Listen to me. Don’t make this any uglier.” The silent judgment from my colleagues felt like needles pricking my skin. Sienna, nestled in Owen’s arms, flashed me a cold, triumphant smirk. I struggled hard, the pressure on my wrist excruciating. During the struggle, the silk scarf around my neck suddenly slipped. A clear, possessive hickey—a kiss mark—was abruptly exposed to the air. Owen froze. He stared intently at the blatant mark on my neck. His grip on my wrist tightened so much it felt like he might crush the bone. “Who did that?” His voice was terrifyingly dark, as if all reason had snapped. “Maya, you’re using cheap acts like this to get back at me? You’re making a mockery of yourself?” I endured the pain, a look of almost cruel triumph blossoming on my face. “Mr. Sinclair, I’m married.” I tilted my neck back slightly, making the mark even more prominent. “That’s called foreplay.” He was completely enraged, pushing me hard against the cold wall. His eyes were bloodshot. Beside him, Sienna looked nearly hysterical with jealousy. 4 Owen absolutely refused to believe I was married. He confiscated my phone and IDs and forcibly brought me back to one of his penthouse apartments. “Owen Sinclair, are you done being crazy?” He tossed me onto the sofa, looking down at me. “There’s an aviation industry gala tonight. You’re coming with me.” I sneered. “Why should I?” “Because I can make sure you never work a day in this industry again!” He clamped his hand on my jaw, the madness in his eyes genuinely unnerving. “I’m giving you a chance for redemption. Go to the gala and apologize to Sienna.” Ha. Just as I suspected. That evening, he made me trail behind Sienna like a handmaid, fetching her drinks and carrying her clutch. The surrounding socialites and wealthy patrons whispered and pointed at me. “Isn’t that the former Ms. Thorne? Look how she’s fallen.” “I heard her mother’s accident was a huge scandal. Now she’s back to being a servant.” Sienna pretended to defend me. “Don’t say that, everyone. Maya is just being difficult.” The more she defended me, the louder the derisive laughter grew. Owen stood a short distance away, sipping his drink, watching the spectacle with cold eyes. He was waiting. Waiting for me to break down, to cry and beg him, to discard all my dignity and submit to him once more. But I didn’t. I was unnervingly calm, even pausing to pick up a glass of champagne and sip it slowly. My eyes scanned the elegant crowd, searching without drawing attention. Owen seemed pleased by my apparent surrender. He walked over and handed me a key card, his voice heavy with patronizing grace. “Wait for me here tonight. We can start over.” I took the key card. Under Owen’s confident, expectant gaze, I snapped the flimsy card cleanly in half. Then, I casually dropped the pieces into a passing server’s champagne glass. “Owen Sinclair,” My voice was quiet, but it clearly carried throughout the small corner. “You disgust me.” The entire room went silent. All eyes, hungry for drama, zeroed in on us. Owen’s face instantly cycled from self-satisfaction to humiliation to blinding rage. “Maya Thorne, you are asking for it!” He raised his hand, ready to slap me across the face. Sienna gasped dramatically, but her eyes were alight with gleeful excitement. Just at that critical moment, the heavy, carved double doors of the ballroom burst open! A swarm of men in black suits and earpieces filed in. Their presence was a powerful, immediate force that instantly silenced the entire room.

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On the eve of meeting my online boyfriend in person, I suddenly discovered that he was my stepbrother. I stayed up all night editing a message: [Baby, actually I’m already a 40-year-old mom this year, divorced twenty times, raising ten children alone. [Are you still willing to accept me like this?] Ten seconds later, I quickly added: [I knew you would despise me! You’ve even started giving me the cold shoulder! [Let’s break up!] Delete, block, the whole package. After my stepbrother got heartbroken, I drank with him until we were drunk. “Brother, don’t cry, that bad woman isn’t worth it, you still have me, your sister.” But the first thing he did after recovering from heartbreak was corner me: “Tell me, should I call you baby, or sister? “Ex-girl-friend.” 1 My stepbrother has been in a very bad mood lately. Even Uncle Jiang, who is always busy with work, noticed it. “What’s wrong with Julian lately? Looks like he’s heartbroken. “But I remember he hasn’t been in a relationship.” I lowered my head, daring not to speak at all. After showering that day, my stepbrother suddenly stopped me. “Sarah Shi, is my figure very bad?” I dared not look into his eyes, my gaze wandering around. “Brother, your figure is obviously very good.” “Look into my eyes and say it.” My stepbrother’s beautiful fox eyes were filled with brokenness and sadness at this moment. Two consecutive days of depression made him look quite decadent. I looked at him, forcing myself to be calm: “Brother, it’s really good.” Actually, I didn’t lie. Julian Jiang has a typical male model figure, tall and straight posture, broad shoulders, narrow waist, inverted triangle. He lowered his eyes and muttered: “Then why would she rather make up lies to deceive me than continue to be with me? “Is it because I’m not good enough? “Why won’t she see me?” I played dumb: “Haha, Brother, what are you talking about?” But in my heart I was thinking. Why else? Because your online dating partner is me—— Your sister. 2 Half a month ago, I discovered something strange about my stepbrother. His usually cold face wore a smile, and he became a bit more gentle and close to me. He even took me to his cloakroom and actively asked me which outfit suited him better. After changing 5 sets in a row, I spoke slowly under his expectant gaze. “Brother, you look handsome in anything.” With a height of 188 cm, Julian Jiang is simply a walking clothes hanger. He can wear any random clothes with the temperament of a male model. But he was obviously dissatisfied with my answer. “Just choose the most handsome one according to your aesthetics.” I had no choice but to ask him what kind of person he was meeting. “Beautiful, gentle, kind, a 20-year-old female student.” I suddenly realized and couldn’t help teasing him: “So you are going to meet your girlfriend.” Julian Jiang’s usually expressionless face was rarely dyed with a thin blush. He coughed lightly: “Don’t ask too much.” But the upturned corners of his mouth still exposed his joy. Couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person his girlfriend was to be missed by him, a cold-hearted person. The final round was a set of navy blue shirt with black trousers, and another set of white hoodie with jeans. Julian Jiang stared at me. I really couldn’t choose, so I could only decline. “Brother, why don’t you ask my sister-in-law and see which one she prefers.” “You teach me how to take photos.” Under my guidance, he began to try various photo angles. After finishing, I was sweating profusely. He waved his hand and transferred me fifty thousand pocket money. I was elated: “Brother, you and sister-in-law are really a match made in heaven, a perfect match. You must have a baby early and grow old together.” Back in the room, I found that my online dating partner had sent a message. [Baby, we are going to meet, so nervous.] [Baby, what color do you like?] [Baby, what should I wear when meeting you, so conflicted, can you help me choose?] When I opened the two photos, my hands were shaking. The composition and color matching of these photos were too familiar. Although the face was not shown, these two photos were indeed taken by me for my stepbrother just now. Identical two sets of clothes. I could even see a corner of my floral skirt exposed in the mirror. So… The clingy and gentle online dating partner turned out to be… My cold and heartless stepbrother?! 3 Seeing that I hadn’t replied for a long time, messages kept popping up on the phone. Pond Fish (Chi Yu): [Baby, are you busy?] [Baby, do you dislike both pieces? I have many other clothes.] [What kind do you like, tell me okay?] [Obedient cat.jpg] I was immersed in shock and hadn’t recovered yet. Simply didn’t know how to face him. Pond Fish and I met in a game. Coincidentally, his ID is Pond Fish (Chi Yu). My ID is Old Abyss (Gu Yuan) [Note: from a poem, longing for the old abyss]. Teammates thought we were a couple. Result we became enemies. He banned my favorite hero, I stole his kills and health packs when he had sliver health. I was sarcastic about his bad play, he mocked me for only playing soft support. Neither of us submitted to the other, agreeing to fight another eight hundred rounds. Don’t know when this contest seemed to change flavor. [Prince of Lanling that sneak, why keep chasing me to kill?] [King Little Qiao, watch me avenge you.] [Princess Yao come take blue buff.] [Duo Duo come eat minion wave.] … Until I saw his abs photo on his Moments. Eight pack abs, distinct grooves, tender pink, cold white skin, hormones simply overflowing the screen. This is simply my ideal type, I was attracted at first glance. In getting along, I liked him more and more. Finally he confessed first. Three months into online dating. We agreed to meet in person in three days. But I really didn’t expect—— Pond Fish is my stepbrother. 4 I had complained about my stepbrother many times, and Pond Fish even helped me scold him. [Baby, your stepbrother is really not a good thing. Already in his twenties, face dark every day, either mental illness or psychopath.] [Unlike me, positive and optimistic every day, always with a smile on my face. So baby, you have to stay far away from your stepbrother.] Looking back at chat records. Clearly we were talking about the same person, why is the difference so big? Messages kept popping up. [Baby, did stepbrother make you angry again?] [When we meet, I will definitely help you get revenge.] [Baby, talk to me okay?] Julian Jiang hates deception very much, he didn’t like me in the first place. If he knew I often complained about him in private, I would be even more doomed. Most importantly, we are brother and sister. Brother and sister are brother and sister, how can Julian Jiang and I be pseudo-incest literature shining into reality? I took a deep breath and replied perfunctorily with a few sentences. [Baby, meeting soon, looking forward.] Just thinking about meeting, Julian Jiang seeing the online dating partner is me, and then his face full of anger. My heart trembled. Fear overshadowed my liking for Pond Fish. At 2 am, said goodnight to each other, confirming stepbrother was asleep. I lied to him. [Baby, actually I’m already a 40-year-old mom this year, divorced twenty times, raising ten children alone. [Are you still willing to accept me like this?] Ten seconds later, I quickly added: [I knew you would despise me! You’ve even started giving me the cold shoulder! [Let’s break up!] Then blocked and deleted, the whole package.

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After five years of marriage, Luke Sullivan brought home models who could open a store with their sheer numbers. Because of the baby in my belly, I chose to turn a blind eye. Later, he personally dressed me in a princess gown, took me—all dolled up—to the hospital, and shaved my head. Just to make a sick little girl smile. I didn’t cry or make a scene. Until our anniversary, when the little girl clamored to go skiing. Luke dragged me to the site to serve as a human cushion for Ava Lin. On the snowy slope, Ava deliberately knocked me flying. Thick blood flowed beneath me. I begged him to save the baby, but he picked up the unharmed Ava and spoke to me mockingly. “Chloe Jiang, you lie more often than I sleep with you.” “If you’re hurt, find the medical staff. Don’t blame me for not acknowledging the child if you delay Ava’s treatment!” The baby died in my womb on the way to the hospital. He let his friends laugh and bet on whether the baby would die. I closed my eyes in despair: “Luke, let’s stop torturing each other. Let’s divorce.” …… The moment the doctor shook his head, I heard something shatter. With trembling hands, I signed the death notification. His friends rushed into my ward, spitting curses upon seeing my bloated body. “Tsk! Bad luck, I lost!” “What did I tell you? Luke is a god. Look at her wrapped up so thick, treasuring this baby so much.” Hearing this, I forced the corners of my lips up with difficulty. Multiple fractures all over my body, my abdomen wrapped in bandages, looking like I was five months pregnant. Luke’s slender fingers tapped on the table. He never looked at me once from beginning to end. Until a knock on the door, and a paper agreement was thrown at me. “Sign it! Say how much you want directly!” “You’re a professional skier, not weak like Ava. A fall won’t kill you. Acting like this is pointless!” I looked at the “Voluntary Waiver of Injury Assessment” on the floor and laughed out loud. I raised my eyes, “Luke, the baby is dead.” “What if I don’t sign?” He paused for only a second, then burst out laughing: “Trying to make me feel guilty? Do you think I’ll believe you? Cut the crap and sign, baby Ava is waiting for me.” I looked at him, face ashen. He sat in the ward for most of the day, never once asking about my safety. He was afraid I would hold Ava accountable. When he knew skiing was dangerous, he used his life to make me quit the ski team. Now, for Ava, he forced pregnant me onto the snowfield. Luke’s eyes were cold, impatience flashing through them. A whole bag of cash poured over my head, stinging my face. “Is that enough? If not, I’ll give more!” My fingers gripped my collar tightly. Through the money, I saw my own humiliation. “Luke,” my voice was hoarse, “let’s stop entangled. Let’s get a divorce.” If you asked what my wish was at 22. It must be to be entangled with Luke Sullivan for a lifetime. But now, I am truly numb. Luke’s expression froze instantly, burning with rage. “Unless I die, you can only endure my torture!” His hand pressed hard on my wound, making me cry out in pain. He didn’t know how many steel pins were in my body, nor that I almost died. Even less did he know the baby was already dead. I dared not say it hurt. Couldn’t forget, last time I cried pain, Luke called me pretentious. Swapped my allergy medicine for vitamins, almost suffocating to death in the elevator. “Chloe, playing hard to get in the wrong place. Take the baby out if you want to leave! Don’t even think about running away with the child.” “If you dare not, kowtow every three steps from here to Ava’s ward to apologize, and I’ll forgive you.” I stopped in my tracks, my body feeling filled with broken glass, piercing my flesh with every move. As soon as his voice fell, his friends cheered. Just like that year when our love was passionate and known to all. We had a life-and-death friendship. Back then, I desperately protected him, almost never waking up. He, who never bowed his head, knelt before the Buddha for a long time, copying scriptures with blood. Until the wedding day, everything changed. No questioning, no noise, quietly finished the wedding. From then on, he humiliated and tortured me in various ways. Even the marital home we designed together was completely renovated by him for Ava to live in. Returning to my own home felt like entering a sleazy hotel. Cleaning up the mess all over the floor. Thinking of this, I looked at him with red eyes, pain submerging my reason. “Okay.” I don’t want to live days like this anymore. Voice falling, I trembled as I unzipped my padded jacket. When I picked up the dagger on the table, he slammed the door and left. Shaking me all over with pain. After he left, the assistant stepped forward. “President Sullivan ordered you to go serve in Miss Lin’s ward. Otherwise, he doesn’t guarantee that person’s grave will remain intact.” 2 My movement to turn around paused, tears swirling in my eyes. “Let him do as he pleases.” I went to the cemetery and bought a plot next to his for the baby. Knelt for a long time, until footsteps came from behind. Luke hugged Ava, saying duplicitously: “By ‘do as he pleases,’ you meant coming to protect him yourself? Chloe, what do you take me for? A toy?” He pushed Ava away, ruthlessly pulling me up. “Since you want to protect him so much, let’s see if you can.” My wig fell off during the struggle. Ava covered her eyes and screamed. Luke pressed the back of my neck onto the tombstone. “With this ghostly appearance, you dare want to be buried with him after death! Will he still love you?” I looked at the scattered tombstone pieces, biting my lower lip until it bled. I love him, but that’s my biological brother. On the wedding day, I didn’t run away from the marriage, just to see my brother in the hospital for the last time. I defended myself countless times, but what I got in return was being locked in the room watching him intimate with someone else. He ignored me, gently patting Ava’s back to coax her. “Ava is the bravest, don’t be afraid. Doesn’t she look much better being ugly?” The piercing ridicule broke my heart. Tears slid silently. I touched the centipede-like scar on the back of my head. My heart felt cut by a dull knife. To protect him, my skull cracked, stitched eighteen times, I didn’t cry pain once. My proud hair turned bald, and I didn’t resist. These sacrifices became sharp swords stabbing myself. Sensing my movement, his hand hanging by his side clenched into a fist. Ava stepped forward and hugged me first, teary-eyed: “Sister, it’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have laughed at you. I apologize.” After she finished, she leaned close to my ear and whispered: “I did it on purpose that day skiing. Your baby deserved to die!” My brain buzzed, and I rushed towards her. Ava covered her ears and cried like rain, accusing me to Luke of biting her ear, but I didn’t touch her at all. Luke flew into a rage and slapped me. My ears buzzed, a fishy sweetness surged in my throat. Firelight illuminated before my eyes. Luke held that group photo, “Consider this my greeting to him today!” He ordered the entire grave to be blown sky-high. The ashes were blown to nothing. I screamed hysterically, burning to ashes in an instant. I pounced like crazy, but Luke yanked me back. “You’re crazy!” I collapsed on the ground, drained of even the strength to struggle. That was the silly brother who raised me, my only relative. Why treat me like this? I am crazy. A thousand words couldn’t compare to one sentence from Ava. The facts were right there, why wouldn’t he even verify it? Do I deserve to die? My throat tore with pain. I laughed dryly and fell backward. When I woke up, Luke pinned my arm firmly. The moment the needle pierced the vein, I was so numb I couldn’t even feel the pain. Then he asked the doctor to take a piece of skin from my arm and throw it into the trash can. I knew he was punishing me. Meeting his gaze, I had no ripples. This is nothing. Once he blamed me for hurting Ava. Letting her stick needles into me. Another time, pregnant and feverish, I begged him to take me to the hospital. He thought I was feigning illness out of jealousy to ruin their fun. Used the baby to force me to clean up for Ava. I never understood why two people who once loved each other became like this. Even the brother who depended on each other since childhood had to be trampled and slandered after death. With trembling hands, I took out my phone and dialed the long-lost number. “Hello, I want to book a sand burial.” 3 In our wildest year, Luke said he wanted to be the most beautiful legend in the uninhabited desert. At the most inappropriate age, we decided our resting place for old age. But now… Arriving at the door, the whole villa emitted colorful lights. I knew they were trying different themes again. Sitting numbly on the steps, waiting drowsily. A coat not smelling of Luke was draped over me. “Why sitting here? Luke messing around again?” Only when I saw clearly did I realize the noble man in front of me was Luke’s youngest uncle. I smiled bleakly: “Uncle, can you help me expedite my visa?” The man just gave a deep, light “Mn.” Early the next morning, Ava stood by my bed with hands on her hips. A basin of cold water poured on my face, her expression hideous. “Did you enjoy eavesdropping last night? Brother Luke praised my performance and gave me the ‘Eternal Love’ jade bracelet. Envious?” I looked up sharply at her wrist, tears falling unworthily. My brother saved money unwilling to treat his illness, bought this bracelet as my dowry. The thought of them desecrating it like this exploded in my brain. “Give it to me…” Ava narrowed her eyes, hooked her red lips close to my ear, “Dare to bet?” Next second, she pulled my hand and pressed her into the toilet, screaming wantonly. “Help! I dare not anymore!” Luke arrived and pressed me into the bath until I suffocated, carefully hugging Ava into his arms, cherishing her like a treasure. Watching him kiss the dirty water-stained Ava meticulously, my pupils dilated. “Brother Luke, this bracelet must be given by someone important to sister. If I die, I don’t want it anymore.” Ava cried loudly, tears falling like rain. Luke said nothing, glared at me fiercely. Picked up Ava and rushed to the hospital. I suppressed the churning in my stomach, eyes sore and swollen. Not long after, Luke’s bodyguards escorted me to the hospital. Poured medicine into my mouth again and again, then pumped my stomach again and again. Repeated dozens of times until I fell in pain. Tears uncontrollably vomited until fainting. Next door. Luke told stories to the bored Ava on IV, making her giggle continuously. To coax her into stomach pumping, carried jewelry from all over the world into the hospital. I closed my eyes. He spent a year nursing my stomach back to health before. This torment completely ruined it. Luke walked over coldly, meeting my red eyes, clenching his fist. “Chloe, don’t think I’m reluctant to touch you. A broken bracelet, I’ll compensate you with a thousand.” I coughed up a pool of blood, letting tears fall. “Luke, will you only be happy if I die?” Hearing this, Luke’s body shook. Turning to look at my lower abdomen, sneering: “Are you willing? The child you tried every way to keep, willing?” I looked at the man in front of me who wouldn’t listen, didn’t want to explain anymore. Ignoring his thunderous rage, pulled out the stomach tube and left. Outside the hospital, Ava invited me into the car with a beaming smile. Luke held Ava’s hand tightly, not giving me a glance. The car was full of tangerine peel smell; he didn’t give me a chance to get off. I opened the window. Luke said coldly: “Close it. Ava is pregnant and afraid of wind.” My fingertips trembled. He clearly knew how severe my allergy was. I looked at my phone expressionlessly. Luke’s face darkened a bit more. Ava giggled: “Sister don’t blame, I wasn’t feeling well and asked Brother Luke to arrange it.” I replied to messages, occasionally rubbing my arms covered in red spots. Getting off the car, I covered my stomach and retched, vomiting until exhausted. 4 Visa approved, mood finally relieved. Made more than ten dishes, Just went back to the room to answer a call, all swept off the table by Ava. Luke wasn’t angry, coaxing her patiently. I covered my burning stomach. When my cooking was bad before, he was reluctant to waste a bit. Turns out people really change for the ones they like. I squatted down numbly to clean up the mess, fingers dripping blood without feeling pain. Luke frowned and pulled me up. “Are you that cheap? Or do you regret and feel no one wants you after leaving me, rushing to serve and please me!” My movement paused, meeting his gaze. “Don’t forget to sign the divorce agreement!” Hearing this, Luke flew into a rage. Ava wanted to help me up. But before I moved, she fell straight onto the shards. Luke caught her but pushed me into the shards. Every breath hurt like knives in my back. “Chloe…” He panicked instantly. But hearing Ava’s cry for help, froze for a second, picked up Ava sideways and rushed to the hospital. I slowly closed my eyes. The servants in the villa were all ordered by Luke to pray for Ava. Opening eyes again, Luke sat by my bed with red eyes. “Chloe, do you feel pain too? Why must you go this far? I’ll acknowledge your child, why must you harm Ava!” I was stunned. Ava’s child is gone. I wasn’t surprised, nor did I explain. He already decided it was me. Seeing me like this, he punched beside my ear: “Chloe, you are as vicious as ever!” Even if my heart is numb, tears still can’t be controlled. Luke, aren’t you vicious to me too? To comfort Ava, Luke specially organized an auction for her. When I came back to my senses, I was already at the venue. Luke held Ava on his lap, causing envy from everyone. While I, the legitimate wife, was mocked by thousands. “Ava is so good and kind. Today’s reward is buy whatever you want, plus your favorite Buddhist treasures.” The auction became Ava’s shopping spree. Her eyes looking at me were full of smugness. I looked down at my phone indifferently, but Luke’s face grew darker. I didn’t understand why he was angry. Until Ava sat next to me, hooking a weird smile. “Sister, stop looking at your phone. You’ll definitely care about the next item.” I looked up in confusion, mind blanking out, blood freezing instantly. Who else could be on the big screen if not my child? “The next lot is the sarira beads specially incinerated by President Sullivan for his lover.” As the host’s voice sounded, I took out my phone with trembling hands and called the hospital. The hospital said the child’s body had been claimed. I stood up abruptly, looking at the unmoved Luke. These weren’t sarira beads, they were clearly beads polished from fetal bones. Until the bidding started, I raised the paddle with trembling hands, voice choking: “Ten million!” Luke was stunned for a moment, expression complex. Malice flashed in Ava’s eyes, squeezing out some tears. “Brother Luke, why is sister fighting with me? You forgot our child…” Luke indulged without thinking, raising the paddle directly: “Thirty million!” “Forty million!” I dug my nails into my hands, cold sweat soaking my clothes. Don’t, don’t, please… “Sky lantern!” (Refers to bidding whatever price necessary to win) Instantly, I felt struck by lightning on my skull. Weakly begging Luke: “Luke, please give it to me, okay? Do you know that’s our child…” Luke frowned and paused. Seeing Ava weeping like a pear blossom bathed in rain, immediately shook me off in disgust: “Chloe, lie with a limit. Your child is fine. To snatch Ava’s things, you really use any means…” “No, my child long ago… believe me…” Guests cursed me for disturbing their fun. He found me too noisy, ordered people to throw me out. Turned and hugged the smug Ava to continue shopping. Until the auction neared its end, someone broke in shouting anxiously: “Wrong, wrong, incinerated wrong.”

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“Forty thousand dollars. I’m never getting it back.” I stared at the screen of my phone, my cousin’s social media feed searing my eyes. A photo of a new house key, tied with a cheap, festive bow. The caption: Finally have a place of our own. The phone rang. It was him. “Riley, forty grand is nothing to you, but I was that short on the down payment. Can’t you just wait a little longer?” I let out a short, hollow laugh. Two years ago, he was on his knees, crying, calling it life-saving money, promising to repay it in three months. Two years. Not a penny seen. “Jake.” I opened my photo album and pulled up the screenshot. “You say you don’t have the money to repay me, but that new house key on your feed—did that come free with a phone upgrade?” Silence hung on the line. 1 I remembered the whole thing with crystal clarity. March 2023. My cousin, Jake, called me out of the blue, his voice shaking. “Riley, you have to save me.” I was working late, and the panic in his voice made me think it was an emergency. “What’s wrong?” “The business is in trouble. Vendors are demanding payment, and I can’t cover the gap.” His voice hitched. “I’m only short forty thousand. Three months, I swear, I’ll pay you back in three months.” Forty thousand. It was everything I had saved from five years of working. My entire nest egg. “Jake, I…” “Riley, I’m begging you.” A choked sob came over the phone. “You’re my last hope. The banks won’t touch me. I even took Aunt Brenda’s retirement money to fill the holes. I’m totally cornered.” I hesitated for a long time. Growing up, Jake had always been decent to me. When I got bullied in elementary school, he was the one who stood up for me. The year I applied to college, Aunt Brenda brought me her famous chicken casserole. “Will you write an IOU?” I asked. “Yes! Absolutely, I will!” He sounded like I’d thrown him a life raft. “I’m coming over right now. I’ll write it in front of you.” An hour later, Jake was on my doorstep. He actually dropped to his knees. “Riley, this money is my life.” His eyes were red as he handed me the handwritten IOU. “Three months. I will pay it back. If I don’t, you can take me to court.” My mother, Patty, stood by, sighing. “Jake, get up. We’re family. Why are you doing this?” I didn’t say a word. I opened my banking app and transferred the $40,000. As the transfer confirmation dinged, he bowed deeply. “Riley, I’ll remember this kindness for a lifetime.” A lifetime. I found the word sickeningly ironic now. Three months later, I called him. “Jake, about the money…” “Riley, I was just about to call you.” His voice was lighter, easier. “Things are still a little tight. Give me two more months, and I’ll definitely have it.” I said okay. Two months later, I called again. This time, he didn’t pick up. I sent a text. He replied: Super busy lately. I’ll be in touch in a few days. A few days turned into a few weeks, which bled into a few months. I soon realized he’d put me on a restrictive list on social media. Everyone else could see his posts about dinners out, weekend trips, and new clothes. I only saw generic reposts about organic eating or lame dad jokes. I called my Aunt Brenda and asked how Jake was doing. “Jake’s doing great,” she said cheerfully. “The business is slowly turning around.” I asked, “What about the money he borrowed from me…” Aunt Brenda paused for a second, then laughed. “Riley, honey, we’re family. What’s the rush? The minute Jake has it, he’ll pay you back.” The minute he has it. But when was that minute, exactly? In early 2024, I tried a few more times. Jake either didn’t answer or told me, “Just be patient.” I tried to be patient. In mid-2024, my dad, Frank, went in for a routine check-up and they found a serious issue. The doctor said he needed surgery, and the out-of-pocket cost would be about $8,000. I tallied my savings—$5,000. My monthly salary was decent, but after rent and expenses, I could only bank four or five hundred a month. Two years of diligent saving had yielded less than five thousand. I was $3,000 short. I called Jake again. “Jake, Dad needs surgery. Can you pay back just a partial amount? Three thousand would be enough to cover the rest of the bill.” He was silent for a long moment. “Riley, I truly don’t have it.” He sighed, sounding put upon. “You know how bad business has been. Can’t you figure out something else?” I said, “Jake, I loaned you forty thousand dollars.” “I know I owe you!” His voice grew impatient. “But what do you want me to do? You make a good salary—forty grand is just two years of work for you. I needed that money to save my business!” My hand, clutching the phone, was shaking. “Jake, you promised me three months.” “I told you I don’t have it now!” He suddenly raised his voice. “Why are you so petty? It’s not like I’m never going to pay you back!” Petty. The word felt like a physical slap across my face. I hung up, sat on the edge of my bed, and felt my eyes sting. Forty thousand. When I gave it to you, you cried on your knees. Now my dad needs surgery, and you call me petty. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I opened my phone and went to Jake’s social media. He had changed his privacy settings to show only six months of posts, but they were still the same generic wellness garbage. I switched to an old burner account I never used. I wasn’t connected to him on that one, but some of his posts were public. And there it was— October 17, 2024. A photo of a new house key with a festive bow. Caption: Finally have a place of our own. October 25, 2024. A picture of a new car key, a Honda logo glinting. Caption: First new car. Time to celebrate. December 2024. Photos of a minimalist-style living room. Caption: The place is slowly coming together. I stared at the screen, a cold dread washing over me. He said he couldn’t pay me back. So where did the money for a house and a car come from? I saved the screenshots, my heart hammering against my ribs. The next day, I called Jake. “Jake, I saw your social media.” “What social media?” His voice was instantly guarded. “The new house, the new car.” I took a deep breath. “I thought you didn’t have any money.” He hesitated, then laughed awkwardly. “That was my mother-in-law’s money. What does that have to do with you?” “What does it have to do with me?” “Meredith’s mother loves her daughter. She helped us with the down payment and the car. That’s her money. I didn’t use your loan to buy a house.” I was shaking with anger. “Jake, you owe me forty thousand dollars.” “I know I owe you!” He was annoyed now. “But I genuinely don’t have the cash right now. What do you want me to do? Sell the house to pay you back?” I didn’t answer. “Riley, you’re in your twenties, how are you this clueless?” He sighed patronizingly. “I’m trying to make things work. Just be patient. When I’m back on my feet, I’ll pay you back.” Be patient. I had been patient from 2023 to 2025—two long years. My dad was in the hospital, and I was $3,000 short of his surgery bill. And my cousin, living in a new house and driving a new car, told me to be patient. “Jake.” My voice was surprisingly calm. “I’m not waiting any longer.” “What does that mean?” “It means I’m getting my money back.” The line went silent for a few seconds. Then, he chuckled. “Riley, how do you plan to do that? Sue me?” I tightened my grip on the phone. “If you insist on going through legal channels, go ahead,” he said lightly. “The house isn’t in my name anyway. You won’t get a thing.” “Who said the house isn’t in your name?” He froze. I looked at the photo of the new house key on my screen and gave a small, humorless smile. “Jake, your caption says, ‘Finally have a place of our own.’” I enunciated every word. “‘Our own,’ not your mother-in-law’s.” Dead silence. “I’ll have my lawyer check the deeds,” I said. “You’d better pray that house is truly not in your name.” I hung up. 2. The next day, my mom, Patty, called, sounding conflicted. “Riley, your Aunt Brenda stopped by earlier.” My stomach dropped. “What did she say?” “She said Jake is under a lot of pressure, that business is rough, and that you shouldn’t push him so hard.” Mom sighed. “She also said…we’re family, and talking about money just ruins the relationship.” Talking about money ruins the relationship. I let out a cold snort. “Mom, was he worried about ruining the relationship when he begged me for the money?” “I know, but…” Mom hesitated. “Aunt Brenda also brought up how much they helped us when you were getting into college.” I was stunned. “What help?” “She mentioned…Jake used to tutor you in high school, and that Uncle Gary helped your dad get that job years ago.” I took a deep breath. “Mom, you and Dad had to borrow money for my tuition, and it took three years to pay off. Jake tutored me? His math grade was a D, what could he have tutored me in?” My mom fell silent. “And Uncle Gary getting Dad a job—that was fifteen years ago! Dad quit after a month because the pay was barely minimum wage.” My voice shook slightly. “Mom, Aunt Brenda is just using moral blackmail.” “I know, I just…” Mom sighed again. “I worry about you causing a family rift over this.” “Mom, forty thousand dollars.” I gripped the phone. “I want to preserve our family ties, but what do they think I am?” Mom was quiet for a long time before saying, “Do what you think is best,” and hanging up. I sat on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Our family was never the rich one among the relatives. My dad was a blue-collar worker, and Mom worked the checkout counter at a grocery store. Uncle Gary’s family ran a small business and had a lot more disposable income. I remembered going to their house when I was a kid. Jake had a pile of expensive toys, and I could only watch. Aunt Brenda would smile and say, “Riley, just play with them. We’re family.” But the moment I actually reached for one, she would say, “That one is expensive. Be careful not to break it.” We’re family. It was the most convenient phrase. We were family when he needed the loan; we were family when he didn’t want to pay it back. But why did the idea of “family” only apply to my need to concede? I opened my laptop and started gathering the evidence. The bank transfer record: March 15, 2023. Transfer of $40,000. Memo: Loan. The text messages: Jake’s promise to repay “in three months.” The timestamps were undeniable. The IOU: Handwritten, signed, dated, with the amount clearly stated. The social media screenshots: New house keys, new car keys, renovation photos. I exported everything, saved it on a flash drive, and printed two copies. Then, I drove to the law office. The lawyer was a sharp, thirty-something woman named Ms. Shaw. She had a no-nonsense air about her. “Ms. Green, your case is very strong,” Ms. Shaw said after reviewing the materials. “The IOU, the transfer record, the texts—you have everything. The chances of winning in court are excellent.” “I need to know if that house is in his name.” Ms. Shaw nodded. “I can run a property deed search for you.” “And if it is?” “Then we can file a lien against it,” she explained. “After the court judgment, if he refuses to comply, we can petition for a forced sale.” I took a deep breath. “One more question,” I said. “What if he tries to transfer the property before the trial?” Ms. Shaw looked at me knowingly. “Do you suspect he might?” “He claimed his mother-in-law bought it. I worry he might sign it over to his wife beforehand.” “Any malicious transfer of assets during the litigation process can be clawed back by the court,” Ms. Shaw stated. “And the act itself only hurts his credibility.” I nodded. “Ms. Shaw, I want to file the lawsuit.” Ms. Shaw looked at me and smiled reassuringly. “Let’s do it.” Leaving the law office, I sent Jake a text message. “I’m giving you one last chance. Repay the $40,000 within one week. Otherwise, I’ll see you in court.” The message showed as Read. He didn’t reply. Three days later, Aunt Brenda called. “Riley, why are you suing your cousin?” Her voice was tearful. “We’re family. Can’t we just sit down and talk about this?” “Aunt Brenda, I’ve been sitting down and talking about this for two years,” I replied calmly. “Every time, he tells me to ‘be patient.’ Now, a whole year later, I haven’t seen one cent.” “Jake really doesn’t have the…” “Aunt Brenda,” I cut her off. “His down payment for the house was $75,000. His car was $20,000. That’s $95,000. Are you telling me you truly believe he doesn’t have $40,000 for me?” Aunt Brenda paused. “He…that was his mother-in-law’s money.” “Was it?” I retorted coldly. “Do you even know whose name the house is in, Aunt Brenda?” She didn’t answer. “Aunt Brenda, I don’t want to escalate this,” I said. “But my dad needs surgery, and I need the money. You were there when I loaned your son $40,000.” “Riley, listen to me…” “Aunt Brenda.” I interrupted her again. “I’m only going to ask you one thing. If I had borrowed $40,000 from Jake two years ago, refused to pay it back, bought a house and a car, and told him to ‘be patient,’ what would you do?” Dead silence on the other end. “I’ll wait one week,” I said. “If he pays me back in that time, this is over. After that, we go to court.” I hung up.

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The semi-truck was a runaway missile. One second, I was rushing toward the biggest company launch of the quarter; the next, a screech of tires, an eruption of metal, and the world was just fire and twisted steel. It was my best friend, Dustin “Dust” Rhodes, who dragged me from the wreckage. He didn’t make it out unscathed; a shard of shrapnel from the explosion caught him. Lying in the trauma bay, barely conscious, I watched him, bandaged and pale, call my fiancée, Seraphina “Sera” Lowell. Her reply was casual, dismissive: “Alex, darling, Owen’s new game is in beta testing today. I’m running diagnostics for him. Nothing important. Gotta go!” Dust lost it, hanging up and immediately calling his own girlfriend, Jillian “Jill” Maxwell, to beg for help finding a specialist. “Seriously, Dust? Don’t be dramatic. Owen’s project is huge. I’m crunching his data right now!” When I finally clawed my way back from the edge of the abyss, my eyes met Dust’s across the sterile white of the hospital room. My voice was a rasp, but the words were solid: “I want to call off the engagement.” Dust didn’t hesitate. “You cancel, I cancel.” The panic that caused in those two women was exactly what we expected. 1 Dustin was a man of immediate action. After confirming the cold, hard facts—which, frankly, involved little more than a replay of the call logs—he sent Jillian a succinct text: We’re done. I was still immobilized, confined to the bed. The doctors had finished a grueling debridement, but a few pieces of glass were lodged deep, dangerously close to vital organs. They hadn’t pulled me out of the danger zone yet. The monitoring machine beside me provided the rhythmic, unnerving soundtrack to my private war with death. Only Dust was with me. He was patched up, too—bandages on his arm and a gash across his forehead, battle scars he earned saving my life. We were two soldiers on a retreat, one sitting, one prone, quietly licking our wounds. “Tomorrow was the rehearsal dinner,” Dust observed, his voice flat as he glanced at the wall calendar. My throat felt raw and burned from the smoke and fumes. I could only manage a quiet nod. The real engagement party? Clearly not happening. Just then, my phone broke the heavy silence. Dust picked it up from the nightstand. His face immediately darkened. “It’s Sera.” I gestured for him to answer and put it on speaker. “Alex Montgomery!” Sera’s voice was sharp, a high-pitched spike of accusation, not concern. “What on earth is going on with you? The rehearsal dinner is in an hour! Why aren’t you here?” I coughed twice, trying to clear my throat. “I’m in the hospital… I can’t make it. I told you yesterday.” “Oh, that’s rich!” Her tone was filled with the kind of impatience one reserves for a spoiled child. “Just because I went with Owen Keller for a doctor’s visit yesterday, you’re pulling this petty stunt? Do you have any idea how many high-profile guests are confirmed?” “I am genuinely in the hospital,” my voice was thin, but steady. “St. Jude’s Medical Center. Intensive Care Unit.” “Fine. If you’re going to be like that, I’ll drive over and pick you up myself,” she threatened. “You’d better be there, or you’ll regret it.” “I am here.” “Alex!” Her volume ratcheted up again. “If you stand me up, you are facing consequences. The party starts in an hour, and I won’t wait!” Dust couldn’t take it anymore. He snatched the phone. “Are you deaf, Sera? He said hospital! He said ICU!” His voice was a furious roar. “You two self-obsessed witches! Owen had a damn stomach flu and you were glued to his side. Alex almost died in a fire trap and you couldn’t be bothered to make a single follow-up call!” Before he could finish his tirade, the line went dead. She’d hung up. Dust was shaking, his face pale with rage. He paced the small perimeter of the room like a caged lion. Then, his own phone rang. He glanced at the screen, a cold smirk twisting his lips. He answered, putting it on speaker without a word. “Dustin, where are you?” Jill’s voice echoed in the room. “It’s the day I’m meeting my parents! I sent you the location! Are you intentionally missing this?” Dust’s eyes turned to ice. “Meeting your parents? Jill, I told you last night. We are broken up. An ex is supposed to drop off the face of the earth. Vanish. You should be six feet under in my world.” He paused, letting the silence hang heavy. “You want me to meet your parents? I think I should be buying flowers for your funeral instead.” Jill was clearly stung. Her voice trembled. “Du-Dustin! You will regret this! Fine. You want to break up? We’re through!” Dust ended the call without another word and efficiently blocked her number and all social media profiles. Done. He exhaled, patting his own chest. He turned to me. “My side is settled. We’ll deal with yours when you’re stronger. Don’t let those sociopaths give you a heart attack.” I looked at him and managed a weak, grateful smile. 2 My forced absence, predictably, caused Seraphina a tremendous loss of face. She called several times. I ignored the first two. The third time, I just silenced the phone. The texts she sent went unread, treated like a relic of a dead past. The final one flashed on the screen: Alex, this is completely irresponsible! I stared at the words but didn’t reply. The planning and execution of today’s engagement party had been entirely under the command of the Lowell family. My input was never valued. I was just a functional prop in her carefully scripted life. My own parents divorced when I was twelve and both remarried. Though their lives centered elsewhere, they’d never neglected basic care or financial support. When they heard about the crash, they instantly canceled their travel plans and were flying back. And Sera? She hadn’t bothered to ask about my injuries. She’d ignored my clear decision to cancel the engagement. Since she chose not to believe me, why should I debase myself by explaining? The audacity of her next move still blindsided me: she found a stand-in to complete the ceremony. In the afternoon, during my dressing change, two young nurses were gossiping. Their conversation drifted into my sterile bubble. “Did you hear? Sera Lowell got engaged today. Her fiancé is gorgeous! So talented, too.” “Right? She’s so lucky. Look, they took a selfie. They look so perfect together!” I couldn’t help but lift my head to see the photo on the nurse’s phone. In the picture, Sera was standing beside Owen Keller, her head nestled casually on his shoulder. Her smile was blinding, radiant. They did look like a perfect match. A foregone conclusion. My eyes suddenly stung—not from the antiseptic, but from a sharp, acidic ache deep in my chest. “I’m sorry, did I hurt you?” The nurse changing my bandage asked with immediate concern. “I’ll be gentler.” “It hurts a little,” I replied softly. My eyes were suddenly damp. “But I can handle it.” Dust reached over and squeezed my wrist, a silent pledge of support. I shook my head at him. “It’s fine. This pain is nothing.” In truth, it hurt like hell, but compared to the searing humiliation of Sera’s public betrayal, the physical pain was merely a dull backdrop. When we were alone, Dust tried to comfort me. “They’re both sociopathic trash, Alex. They don’t deserve your grief.” “Oh, guess what,” he suddenly changed the subject. “That crazy Jill just messaged me. She made a pot of fish chowder! Said she made it especially for me!” “I’m allergic to fish, a potentially lethal allergy, which I’ve told her at least twenty times! We’re broken up, is she completely unhinged?” I couldn’t help a small laugh. “She’s not unhinged, Dust. She just never bothered to care about you. If it were Owen, she’d remember every single detail.” Dust was silent for a moment, then nodded. “You’re right. Forget them. Let’s find something else.” He grabbed his tablet and pulled up a streaming platform. “There’s this viral food blogger who makes people try weird specialty desserts. Their reactions are hilarious.” He expertly navigated to the blogger’s live feed. A familiar face appeared on the screen: Jill Maxwell. “Ma’am, please try this bespoke confection. You get to say one thing to the camera when you finish,” the host grinned. Jill took a bite. Her face instantly twisted in disgust, but she forced a sickeningly sweet smile. “I hope the next person gets the cherry blossom flavor, especially you, Owen! I’m rooting for you always!” She blew a heart kiss to the camera. I was about to swipe away, but Dust stopped me. He furiously typed into the comment section: You remember Owen Keller’s favorite Cherry Blossom flavor, but you always forget your boyfriend is deathly allergic to fish! The comment was immediately swallowed by the flood of other messages. I patted Dust’s shoulder. “Our lives are better without them in it.” He agreed, but the streamer’s viewers had already recognized Jill. “Isn’t that the Maxwell heiress? No way, seeing her here!” “That guy she’s rooting for is so lucky!” “My Lady, your loyal servant has been waiting. How may I be of service?” The digital commotion made Jill an instant viral sensation. Soon after, Owen posted a picture on his social media: Cherry blossom dessert received. Happiness is manifesting your dreams. The photo showed a plate of the elegant pink dessert, and sitting across the table, beaming at the camera, was Jill. Dust snorted with contempt. “Look at that pathetic lapdog.” I had to laugh out loud. Dust was right. They were both pathetic, orbiting around Owen, never considering who the real winner was. Maybe no one. 3 Seraphina and Owen’s makeshift engagement ceremony should have marked the end of my relationship. Once I was discharged, I planned to meticulously return everything she had ever given me. She’d bought me several expensive items during our time, but I wasn’t the type to hold onto a single thing. A clean, clinical end was always my preference. Forty-eight hours later, my condition stabilized, and I was moved to a standard room. The attending physician came in for his rounds, looking over my chart and shaking his head. “Mr. Montgomery, you are one lucky man,” he said, looking at the X-rays. “That piece of glass was less than an inch from your heart. Any deeper, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.” He closed the file, his expression serious. “Going forward, you need extreme emotional control. No excitement, no profound sadness. Focus on rest.” “Thank you, Doctor.” I nodded. The doctor had barely left when my phone rang. It was Sera’s office line. I’d forgotten to block that one. After a moment of hesitation, I answered. “You saw the photos online, I assume?” Sera’s voice came through the receiver, still devoid of any real concern. “If Owen hadn’t stepped up that day, the ceremony would have been a disaster! “You’ve had your little fit. Time to come home. Stop acting like a child!” I gave a dry, humorless laugh. “Sera, I am not coming back.” “What exactly do you want?” Her voice jumped in pitch. “I’ve already explained to my parents that despite your absence, we are honoring the engagement! “If you continue this nonsense, we are really done!” I took a deep breath. “Sera, I am lying in a hospital. This made the news. A little basic care would have told you that.” A cold laugh came from the other end. “You’re just making up a hospital story to retaliate because I accompanied Owen to the doctor, aren’t you?” “Fine. Tell me, what hospital? What floor? Who is your attending physician?” I answered calmly. “St. Jude’s, Surgical Ward, Room 24. Come now. My doctor is still on the floor.” “You wait right there. I’m coming.” She hung up. Sera was the Design Director at the company. There was no way she didn’t know about one of her top designers being hospitalized. She’d simply been too busy playing wife to Owen to read any internal notices, entirely unaware that I was right under her nose. Half an hour later, a commotion started in the hallway. Sera had arrived, and Owen was with her. I leaned back on the pillows, eyes closed, listening to the overly dramatic gasps and cheers outside. “Oh my God, they really are the perfect couple!” “Look at them. Are they here to flaunt their happiness? I’m so jealous!” “Designer Keller is even better looking in person. Director Lowell is so lucky!” I opened my eyes, a sardonic smile playing on my lips. These people probably didn’t realize that the “fiancé” was merely a last-minute substitute. But thinking about it now, I was the redundant one. They had publicly announced their engagement. They were, technically, the legitimate couple now. Sera gave only the briefest acknowledgments to her colleagues’ compliments, while Owen wore a smug, entitled expression. His voice was loud, laced with a practiced charm. “Thanks for taking care of Sera. I ordered coffee for the whole floor. It’ll be up soon.” “Wow, Designer Keller is not only talented but so thoughtful!” Amidst the chorus of flattery, they appeared in my doorway. Owen had his arm possessively around Sera’s waist, his eyes full of a childish triumph. Sera clearly faltered when she saw me actually lying in the bed. Her eyes scanned the room, and when they landed on the private suite, her brow instantly furrowed. “Do you know how tight the company’s medical resource budget is? You’re hogging a single room just to make a statement?” “A statement to you?” I looked up, my eyes filled with cold mockery. “Who are you, Sera, that I would go to this much trouble just to spite you?” “Alex Montgomery!” she raised her voice. “I’m right here. No need to shout,” I said calmly. “We are over. He is now your fiancé. Did you come here specifically to assert your dominance?” “Well then, I wish you both a happy and miserable life together.” Sera’s face went rigid with fury. “How dare you insult us? “Apologize! Now!” I met her stare. “Apologize? Not a chance.” Sera was shaking with rage. Owen quickly pulled her back. “Don’t get upset, Sera. Alex is sick. He’s emotional. Don’t pay him any mind.” “He’s doing this on purpose!” Sera glared at me. “Who is your attending physician? He’s clearly complicit in this elaborate act!” I looked at her coolly. “Sera, have you had enough? You’re not my doctor, so why all the questions?” “I have agreed to break up with you. Why can’t you leave me alone? Dating two men at once—doesn’t that make you sick?” Sera suddenly lifted her hand to strike my face. I was ready. I leaned to the side, dodging the blow, and at the same time pressed the call button on the bedside unit. As she recoiled in shock, I lifted my hand and delivered a sharp, open-handed slap across her face. The crisp crack echoed through the room. Owen stood wide-eyed, then rushed to Sera’s side, tenderly touching her cheek. “How could you do that? Sera came here out of concern for you, and you hit her!” “She threw the first punch,” I said, shaking my hand and staring at them. “I didn’t invite either of you.” Sera’s lip trembled. The red imprint of my fingers was clear on her pale skin. “Sera, are we clear now?” I pointed to the door. “Get out. I don’t want to see you again.”

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I’m high maintenance. Everyone says so. But I landed a boyfriend who is mature, steady, and infinitely tolerant. His friends couldn’t stand it and told me to be nicer to him. So, at dinner, I peeled a shrimp for him. That night, he posted a rage-filled status update visible only to his “boys”: [Which one of you idiots ruined my bratty girlfriend?! I want her bad attitude back!] 1 It wasn’t a holiday or an anniversary, but Adrian Sterling suddenly transferred two million dollars into my account. I texted him a question mark: [?] He replied instantly: [Babe, we just hit the 2,000,000th minute of being in love.] [Don’t you think that’s incredibly meaningful?] I raised an eyebrow. Honestly, I never kept track of time like that. Especially not such… obsessive milestones. I only remember we’ve been dating for about three years. But money is money. I accepted it calmly and Venmo’d him back $200 with a note: [Here’s to the next 2 million minutes~] A moment later, I saw Adrian’s new Instagram story. It was a screenshot of my $200 transfer. Caption: [❤️ My daily allowance. Feeling like a kept man today. Bliss. 🥰] Even though I’d seen similar posts many times, I still struggled to connect the mature, stoic Adrian Sterling I knew in real life with this love-struck teenager online. The contrast was too extreme! In person, Adrian was serious, rigorous, and unsmiling. His attitude toward work was harsh, bordering on tyrannical. I heard his employees called him “The Ice Reaper.” Yet, this “Ice Reaper” posted lovey-dovey content almost daily. How good I was to him. How much I loved him. Even if I just sent a random emoji, he’d screenshot it: [Spoiled by my girlfriend again. (Spinning)] Even I found it a bit much, let alone his bros. One of them once pulled me aside and said tactfully: “Zoe, I know couples have their own dynamic, but do you have to force Adrian to post that stuff every day?” I was confused. “What stuff?” “The PDA.” He showed me his phone. “Adrian’s feed isn’t just for us. It’s for his business partners, investors, and industry elders. Do you know what people are saying about him?” I was shocked by Adrian’s feed on his phone. It was full of pink bubbles and sickeningly sweet captions I had never seen before! His friend said seriously: “Can you stop forcing him?” I opened my mouth to explain but didn’t know where to start. So I called Adrian. Later, his friends learned that Adrian posted those voluntarily. He even hid them from me just so he could post more. I didn’t understand his obsession with social media validation. Just like I didn’t understand what was worth showing off. I sent him $200, and he flaunted it. He sent me $2 million, and he didn’t say a word. I tied his tie on a whim, and he posted it. He served me hand and foot every day, yet never mentioned it. Sometimes I felt he was intentionally putting me on a pedestal. Now that even his business partners knew he had a girlfriend who “adored” him, did I dare not love him? Luckily, I did love him. Adrian was handsome, wealthy, and obedient. He spent money on me, listened to me, and tolerated my bad temper infinitely. I couldn’t find a more perfect boyfriend. Just as he came home from work, I jumped into his arms. He caught me easily with one arm. I whispered loudly in his ear: “Adrian, I want to go to work!” 2 The arm holding me stiffened visibly. But Adrian didn’t say much, just asked curiously: “Why the sudden urge to work?” It wasn’t sudden, I thought. I graduated a year ago. I had worked for a total of three months. Those three months were a nightmare of office politics, micromanagement, and a boss who got too handsy. My first job out of the ivory tower was a disaster. I didn’t dare look for another, so I nestled in Adrian’s villa for over six months. Until two days ago. A college classmate sent me a screenshot of a group chat: [By the way, what is Zoe doing after graduation?] [What else? Being a canary in a gilded cage.] [Must be nice to be pretty. When will a rich guy keep me?] [Aren’t they dating? I remember they started in sophomore year.] [It sounds nice to call it dating. In reality, it’s just… that.] [True. The gap between her and her boyfriend is huge. Will they even marry? Rich guys just play around.] [Honestly, even if they don’t marry, I’m jealous. I can’t find a job, and she’s financially free.] [Jealous of what? Would you let someone control you?] [Haha, I wouldn’t. I can’t handle a guy who’s so much more powerful.] [Her boyfriend probably stopped caring about her long ago.] [So, the suffering Zoe endures, you might not be able to handle. (Smirk)] I didn’t know what suffering they were talking about. Adrian was a few years older, but a five-year gap was normal. And Adrian didn’t “stop caring.” On the contrary, he cared too much. I was the one who couldn’t handle it. He woke up early for work, while I slept in. Yet at night, he was energetic, and I was exhausted… Weird. I ignored the chat log, even when my classmate urged me to clarify. There was nothing to say. My boyfriend was handsome, rich, and capable. Let them be sour. I just simply felt after reading it: Maybe I should find something to do. I wrapped my arms around Adrian’s neck. “Jax offered me a job at his company.” Jax was Adrian’s best friend. And the one who hated me the most. Sometimes he looked at me like I was a succubus destroying a kingdom. He couldn’t understand what spell I cast to change his brother so completely. He tried to break us up. But Adrian defended us strictly. Jax had no choice but to try separating us physically. He offered me a job with a high salary. The only condition was that I stop clinging to Adrian 24/7 so he could have time with his boys. I accepted happily. Adrian buried his face in my neck, whining: “Babe, if you want to work, why not come to my company?” I teased: “Then we’d be together 24 hours a day. What if you get sick of me?” He looked serious. “Impossible!” “What if I get sick of you?” He thought for a moment and sighed. “Fine.” 3 Jax ran a gaming company. He had a hand in all the popular MMOs and made a fortune. He didn’t assign me a department, just said to pick a role. So I chose the Game Design department, which interested me most. The atmosphere was relaxed, unlike my last job. Colleagues were young and dressed casually. My mentor, Cole, was friendly: “Have you played games before? Doesn’t have to be ours.” I admitted shyly: “Just Candy Crush.” He wasn’t surprised, just smiled. “Perfect. I need a blank slate. Try playing our latest MMO for a week and submit a ‘newbie experience report’.” I had never heard such a gentle command. I buried myself in playing. I recorded my feelings on the plot and the difficulties I faced. Adrian felt neglected and protested frequently: [Babe, you haven’t kissed me in ages.] I coaxed him: [Working. Be good.] A week later. I submitted my report and joined the welcome party for new hires. It was at a Karaoke bar. The equipment wasn’t great, and there was howling from the hallway, but I felt unprecedentedly happy. The party ended at 11 PM. Adrian picked me up, sulking at my drunken state. I cupped his face and kissed him loudly. “Aww, don’t be mad, boyfriend.” He turned his head. “You smell like alcohol.” I kissed him again. “Let’s stink together.” Whatever emotions remained were resolved in bed. I was dizzy, only remembering Adrian’s intense thrusts and cold face. Waking up the next day, I was still groggy. Adrian rarely skipped work, but he brought me warm water. “Headache? Will you drink that much next time?” I drank the water slowly and shook my head. Suddenly remembering I hadn’t asked for leave, I grabbed my phone. Before I could text my boss, I saw a new email notification. It said I had been transferred to the CEO’s Office. I looked up at Adrian in shock. “What’s wrong?” Adrian sat on the edge of the bed, pinching my cheek. “I was transferred.” Adrian took the phone and read the notice. Silence filled the room. I wanted to ask: Did you do this? But I felt bad suspecting him. I was busy last week and ignored him. He was unhappy. But surely he wouldn’t… “Probably a personnel shuffle.” Adrian held my cold hand. “Did you like the old department? I’ll tell Jax to move you back?” I tried to read his face. “Wait, I’ll call him.” Adrian said. He called Jax. “Why move Zoe to the CEO’s office?” “We’re short on people, bro!” Jax yelled. “Three assistants are on maternity leave. I haven’t hired replacements yet. I want Zoe to fill in. Are you going to micromanage this too?” Adrian defended me: “But if Zoe likes her old—” I stopped him, signaling him to stop. Jax was still yelling: “Adrian, you freak! Zoe isn’t a child. If you can’t let go, just lock her at home and stop unleashing her on me!” Adrian hung up. I spoke first: “I can go to the CEO’s office.” “Will you be unhappy, babe?” I shook my head. As long as it was normal work and not Adrian meddling, it was fine. He chuckled low, resting his forehead against mine. “Did you misunderstand me just now?” I blushed. “A little.” He pouted. “Babe, you don’t trust me.” “No, no.” I explained quickly, “You complained about me not spending time with you, and last night you were so… fierce. I thought you were unsatisfied with my job…” Adrian laughed darkly. He buried his head in my shoulder, his voice aggrieved: “But I’m really sad. You suspected me so easily. You don’t trust me at all.” I kissed his ear. “Don’t be sad, okay?” He was like a giant cat, lying on top of me. “I need comfort.” Helpless, I gave him the comfort he needed. Until the sky went dark again. I thought hazily, Is he trying to make up for the whole week? 4 Three days later, I officially started at the CEO’s office. Jax was my direct boss. But he didn’t give me work. He just told me to read the company bylaws and recent projects. He threw a pile of files at me and left. His lazy attitude didn’t look like he was short on people. I didn’t count on him. I asked other colleagues. A new male colleague, Sam, saw I was bored and kindly shared some filing work. For convenience, I moved a chair next to him. When I had questions, I whispered to him. He was patient, explaining details and sharing tips. I laughed at his jokes and thanked him earnestly. Who knew this scene would be seen by Adrian, who came to visit. He abandoned Jax and beelined for me. “Why are you sitting here?” I looked up innocently, files on my lap. “Working.” “And this is—” He looked at Sam and extended his hand. “Hello, I’m Zoe’s boyfriend.” Sam shook it, flattered. “Mr. Sterling! Hello, I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Sam.” Jax walked over, arm on Adrian’s shoulder, looking at me. “Didn’t I tell you not to do this?” “Reading files is boring,” I complained. “If you moved me here just to read rules, I’d rather play games downstairs.” Jax was speechless. Adrian tried to soothe me. “Babe, you stay busy. I’ll talk to him.” When they left, the office went quiet. But Sam’s attitude changed. Polite, respectful, ingratiating, but distant. He took back half the files. “Maybe I shouldn’t bother you. I thought about it, this is my job. It’s not right to ask for help.” I didn’t know what to say. True, I wasn’t here to make friends. But I hated this sudden alienation. It reminded me of my last job. I had a work bestie there. Even when the boss harassed me, I stayed because of her. Then suddenly, she ignored me. No reason. She stopped asking me to lunch, stopped sharing snacks, and joked with everyone but me. Cold violence was the last straw. I quit soon after. Six months later, returning to the workforce, it was happening again. Was I just not cut out for work? I stopped trying. I did whatever Jax said, even if he gave me busywork. I had no energy. I went home dejected. Adrian hugged me. “What’s wrong? You look like a wilted flower.” “It’s your fault!” I pinched his cheek. “Now everyone in the office knows I’m your girlfriend and treats me like glass!” “I’m sorry.” Adrian lowered his head apologetically. “I made it hard for you. I shouldn’t have said that.” His look made me unable to blame him. He was my boyfriend. It wasn’t wrong to say it. “Forget it.” I sighed. “I’ll stick it out. If I get tired of working, I’ll come back here and be a bum.” He kissed my cheek. “Or be my wife.” After dinner, Adrian worked in the study. I scrolled Instagram on the sofa. I accepted new friend requests from the office. I liked their posts. My finger paused. I saw a post from Lisa, the only colleague from my old job I kept in touch with. She posted a photo of Maya—my old work bestie—shopping for luxury bags. Caption: [The simple life of a rich lady.] Maya couldn’t afford those bags before. I didn’t know she struck gold. I liked the post. Lisa messaged me: [Did you see? Maya got rich!] I replied: [Yeah, congrats to her.] Lisa: [But it seems to have something to do with you.] [?] [What do you mean?] Lisa: [Shortly after you quit, she quit too. We met by chance today. She said her luxury goods were thanks to your rich boyfriend.] My brain exploded.

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It was my seventh autumn in Vienna when I ran into my ex-wife, Savannah Reilly. She was here accompanying Asher King, her protégé, for the International Piano Competition, and her gaze snagged on the empty sleeve of my right arm. Asher, the young pianist, offered a too-wide smile and a cheerful, “Hello, Professor Cross,” before deliberately bringing up the fire. Savannah watched me, her expression a complicated mix of guilt and pity. “Asher didn’t mean it, Alistair. I thought it was just a fracture, I never imagined…” The wind stole the rest of her words, and I had no interest in hearing them anyway. My mind was focused on my six-year wedding anniversary with Eliza. Yet, as I walked past the State Opera House, Savannah caught up to me. She pressed a ticket into my hand. “Alistair, I know performing at the Golden Hall was your ultimate dream.” “This ticket cost a fortune.” “Even though you can never play again, Asher is going to carry that dream forward for you.” I met her eyes—those eyes full of insufferable pity—and politely pushed the ticket away. “Thank you, but I don’t need it.” Savannah let out a heavy sigh. “You don’t have to hate me so much.” I managed a slight smile. I hadn’t hated her in years. And I certainly didn’t need to tell her that I was the Head Judge for this very piano competition. 1 “If you don’t hate me, why did you run away and hide in another country?” Savannah wasn’t ready to let go, determined to extract an answer from me. The late autumn breeze reddened her eyes. This level of investment from her was something I hadn’t seen in a very long time. Perhaps realizing her lapse in decorum, she softened her tone. “Can we sit down at a coffee shop? You used to make me a perfect Americano every morning…” Savannah rattled on, sinking into nostalgia, but I cut her off. “I don’t recall. My wife only drinks tea.” Her pupils constricted instantly, her shocked stare drilling into me. “You’re married? But you always said you would only ever…” Her voice was shaking when she spoke again. I nodded and raised my hand, pointing toward the large screen in the plaza where a woman was being interviewed on television. Savannah stared for a long time, then suddenly laughed out loud. “Eliza Sinclair, the CEO of the Sinclair Group? Alistair, you’re a terrible liar.” “A marriage like that, between two major powers, it’s not something you and I would ever be involved in.” “Besides, you… stop trying to fool me.” Her gaze dropped from the screen to my empty sleeve, a flicker of genuine distress in her eyes. She tucked the ticket back into my jacket pocket. “I know things have been difficult for you since you left.” “I just want to bring your impossible dream a little closer to reality.” Watching this woman, so completely convinced of her own narrative, I almost wanted to laugh. I was the Royal Opera House’s Chief Pianist, and my wife was the head of a global conglomerate. And Savannah thought I was struggling? “Ms. Reilly, we are both married now. Please show some respect.” I kept my tone even, not wanting to get drawn into a scene, and turned to walk down a different street. “At least let me drive you home, can I?” Savannah pursued me. She reached out, but her fingers closed only on my vacant sleeve. Her eyes instantly welled up. I found the whole thing utterly pointless. I had no interest in wasting another second on her. “My driver is coming to collect me now. It’s not necessary, thank you.” I used my healthy left hand to try and shake Savannah off, but she held on, her grip tight. Sadness churned relentlessly in her eyes. Until a leather strap came down hard across the back of her hand. 2 “Let go of Al!” “Police! This woman is harassing him!” Owen Keller, a film student I’d befriended, put away the stunt prop—a leather flogger he’d been using on set—and shouted. Nearby security personnel and police officers gripped their sidearms, surrounding us with caution. Savannah raised her hands, her face pale. I quickly explained the situation to the police, sparing Savannah the indignity of an arrest. It wasn’t pity; I simply wanted the entanglement to end. Owen, a student in directing at the University of Vienna, and I had bonded over a performance. This imaginative young guy and I clicked instantly. In the car, Owen used every colorful American idiom he knew to curse Savannah and her entire lineage. Once he’d run out of steam, he spoke quietly. “Al, you know that psycho?” I told him calmly, “My ex-wife.” Owen’s eyes widened, and he gripped the steering wheel tighter, as if he were throttling Savannah herself. “A woman that blind, that ungrateful, who doesn’t know what she has? She deserves to regret this for the rest of her life!” Finally, Owen leaned in and asked, “We still have a little drive. Got any good gossip? I promise, absolute secrecy.” I smiled faintly, considered it for a moment, and then nodded. As my eyes drifted toward the rushing crowds outside, the memories began to flow. My freshman year in college, I earned all the applause at the talent show with a performance of “Moonlight Sonata.” But two drunk jerks cornered me outside of campus later that night. “Think you’re so great? My girlfriend left me for you! Now you won’t be stealing anyone else!” “Love playing piano? I’ll make you a cripple. Let’s see you play then!” They raised a brick, aimed right for my hand. That was the moment Savannah charged in, her voice trembling as she screamed, “Let him go! I have a bomb strapped to me!” The thugs laughed, called her crazy, and pushed her against the wall, reaching for her lewdly. It wasn’t until they tore her shirt that they saw the “timer”—a makeshift toy. They fled instantly. I took off my own shirt, wrapped it around Savannah, and took her to the hospital. She told me she loved watching me play. She also told me she was writing a novel about divorce. She’d strapped the toy bomb to herself to truly experience the desperation of a main character cornered by an abusive husband. The toy cost her half a month’s living expenses. It was the first time I realized someone could be so poor—only enough money for instant ramen and day-old bread, sacrificing a month’s savings on a piece of inspiration. Owen scratched his head. “What did you love about her?” I thought about it. Was it her artistic talent, her beautiful, cold profile, or those expressive eyes? Maybe none of that. It was probably that we both had these blazing, reckless ideals. I wanted to play at the Golden Hall; she wanted to be a world-famous female writer. And—her courage. Her willingness to bet everything, even when she was stuck in the mud. From that day on, I used most of my own meager scholarship money to support the struggling writer. Savannah always said I was the only one who truly understood her, and I laughed and said I was the knight sent by fate to protect her. On a rainy afternoon, Savannah held up a paper rose she’d folded and confessed her love. The affection in her eyes then was absolute, undeniable truth. “The Little Prince was lost without his rose. I want to cross the entire universe to hold you close now.” We were a couple—stable for four years, the model of campus romance. Before graduation, she gave me a book of poetry that chronicled our bright, happy youth. My eyes stung with tears, and I truly believed life would be this simple, this beautiful, forever. Owen opened his music app, and a random song, City Moonlight, began to play. “Seeing all the human comings and goings, can’t we have more happy moments…” We sat in silence for a while. At a red light, Owen couldn’t help but ask, “Did things get better for you after graduation?” I shook my head, unsure how to describe the color of that time. 3 After graduation, I didn’t follow my parents’ plan. I chose to stay in the city with Savannah. I taught piano at an art school, and Savannah wrote full-time at home. She had no income, but between my salary and the occasional support from my parents, we managed. Until the family business went under, and my father left a suicide note before taking his own life. My mother, completely broken, was institutionalized. I locked myself in our bedroom, crying for days. Savannah, who was terrible at domestic skills, started trying to cook for me. When I wouldn’t eat, she’d quietly leave the food outside the door, then disappear for the whole day. She would drag her tired, dirty body back to our rented apartment late every night. One day, I followed her. I found Savannah at a construction site, her slender frame swaying as she hoisted multiple bags of concrete mix onto her shoulder. I wept uncontrollably. Savannah wiped the grime from her face and smiled, trying to reassure me. “Dad’s gone, but he’d want you to live well.” “Don’t be afraid. I’ll always be by your side, no matter what.” “I swear I’m going to take care of you.” With Savannah’s constant support, I returned to the school. To help pay off the debts my father left, Savannah slept only three hours a night. I also took a side gig playing in a local bar. When a VIP client in a private room waved ten thousand dollars and demanded I play while naked, I refused instantly. Even though we were only ten thousand dollars away from paying off the last of my father’s debt. The client laughed and opened a bottle of expensive red wine for me. “If you’re so principled, then drink this bottle and play me a drunk piano piece.” I looked at the newly uncorked bottle, didn’t think twice, and downed it before starting to play. When the piece was over, the client applauded enthusiastically, and I was given the ten thousand dollars as promised. But as I stood up to leave, my body went instantly weak, and I collapsed onto the velvet sofa. The man lunged at me, roughly trying to force himself on me. “I love defiling artists. Cooperate and I’ll give you twenty thousand more!” I fought desperately, but he used a drug-soaked cloth to smother me into unconsciousness. Just as I felt the ultimate despair, Savannah burst into the room and smashed a beer bottle over the man’s head. “If you touch my boyfriend, I’ll kill you!” She didn’t stop until the man was completely incapacitated, blood pooling on the floor. As she was being led into the police car, Savannah smiled and called out to me, “Baby, don’t be sad. I finally got to protect you.” “With me here, no one will ever hurt you!” Her face in that moment mirrored the fierce protectiveness from five years ago. Tears blurred my vision. I ran after the police car until I stumbled and fell in the pouring rain. Fortunately, the police investigation cleared everything up. Savannah’s actions were ruled justified self-defense. We held each other tight for a long time. Savannah excitedly told me she had news. “My book is a hit! Companies are fighting over the rights! We don’t have to struggle anymore!” Immersed in the joy of her success, I leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I have something to tell you too.” “Ms. Savannah Reilly, will you marry me?” I knelt on one knee, holding up the ring I had been saving for so long. Later, I poured everything I had into giving Savannah a beautiful, grand wedding. She wore her gown and sobbed through the vows. The handwritten, ten-thousand-word love letter I read at the ceremony made me truly believe we would walk hand-in-hand, forever, in our beautiful, simple life… The car had unknowingly pulled up to my villa in Vienna’s 19th District. Owen, still absorbed in the story, asked, “By all accounts, you two should have been happy. How did you break up? Did she cheat…” 4 “Yes. With my student.” “Oh, Alistair. I’m so sorry.” Owen’s face filled with remorse, instantly regretting his question. I patted his shoulder and offered a calm smile. It had been so long ago; the wound was just a faint scar now. After we married, Savannah’s book became a massive success. After collecting every major national award, she stopped writing and founded a cultural company. I opened my own art school. When I wasn’t teaching, I poured all my energy into daily practice, determined to finally realize my dream of performing at the Golden Hall. Eighteen-year-old Asher King was my most talented student. His parents had died in a fire, and he lived with his grandmother. I felt for the boy. I waived all his fees and often invited him over for dinner. The next time Asher showed up, Savannah finally frowned. “I know you care for your students, Alistair, but bringing him here constantly isn’t appropriate. For one, we don’t know his character, and second, I don’t want our private space disturbed.” I finally managed to placate her and promised I wouldn’t bring Asher home again. Savannah smiled and kissed my forehead. How could a woman so focused on boundaries and vigilance turn around and cheat with Asher? I never would have guessed, not until I walked in on them. The day my mother died of a cerebral hemorrhage, Savannah broke her leg in a fall at the office. With her cast on, she was insistent about attending the funeral, but I managed to stop her. I promised her I would convey her respect and filial piety to my mother. Savannah, in tears, promised that she would visit my mother the moment she recovered. After the funeral, I took my mother’s only photograph with me. At the peak of my grief, I received a text from Savannah. [How is the funeral going? I’ll be there as soon as my leg is better.] [Alistair, I will face everything with you.] [I ordered takeout for myself today. Please take care of yourself back home.] Seeing those warm words on my phone, I burst into tears. Savannah was my only family left in this world. Thank God, I still had her. But when I returned to the school with my mother’s photo, I saw a scene I will never forget. In the half-open practice room, a naked Savannah was straddling Asher, her back glistening in a way that suggested an open, intimate scene that reeked of calculated perversion. They were completely intertwined, oblivious. I was shaking all over. I rushed in, slapped Asher hard, and grabbed Savannah’s hair, pulling them apart. “Savannah Reilly, is this your ‘takeout’?” “I want a divorce!” One was the student I’d staked my professional reputation on; the other was the woman I loved with my life. I stared at them, the tears of despair streaming down my face. Savannah knelt on the floor, slapping herself a dozen times, sobbing that she was only confused for a moment. “Alistair, I swear on my life, it will never happen again!” Asher rushed to the window, his eyes red. He cried out. “I’m so sorry, Professor. I just love the Professor’s wife too much.” “I know that to love someone is to want their happiness. If my death is what it takes to make you two happy, then I’m willing to die.” Savannah, who had just been begging for forgiveness, instantly rushed over and embraced Asher. The tension in her face was exactly the same as when she had protected me years ago. During the struggle, Asher knocked over the candles they had been using. They immediately ignited the practice room curtains, and the fire spread like wildfire. The overhead chandelier chose that moment to crash down, hitting me. “Alistair, don’t be afraid! I’ll get you out!” Savannah fought desperately to push the heavy light fixture off me, but her resolve shattered the moment she heard Asher’s desperate cry. After a brief hesitation—a hesitation that lasted a lifetime—she unflinchingly hoisted Asher onto her back. “Asher has a severe psychological trauma from fire.” “Hold on, I’ll be right back for you!” Savannah’s gaze flickered to mine, and then she was gone. She never came back. In the choking smoke and raging heat, the intense pain of my shattered humerus was nothing compared to the shards of my broken heart. I dragged myself out of the fire, but I permanently lost the use of my right hand. My school, which represented countless hours of my heart and soul, was nothing but ash. Marriage, dream, hope—I had lost everything. Owen, shaking with anger, was about to floor the accelerator and go track Savannah down, but I stopped him. “How can she and that snake still be considered human? I want to kill them right now!” “That kind of trash woman should be thrown in prison! You went through hell together; how could she do that to you!” The usually boisterous guy was red-eyed with rage. I calmly assured him, “It took a trip through hell to truly see her for who she was.” “If she hadn’t let go, I would never have met Eliza.” After the amputation, I signed the divorce papers. Aside from a few apology texts, Savannah never appeared again. At my lowest point, when all hope was gone, I met Eliza Sinclair. That, however, is a different story. Owen patted my shoulder, finally offering a relieved smile. “Alistair, I’m glad you’re happy now.” Owen’s girlfriend texted, rushing him home for her birthday, so we said our goodbyes. Just as I was about to enter the villa, I heard Savannah shouting from behind me: “Alistair, you absolutely cannot break in and steal…”

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Five years. Five years since I walked away—no, since I was wheeled away. My dominant hand had been shattered, my legs useless. I changed my name, quietly resigned my commission, and opened a tiny, anonymous pharmacy near the border. I was just a ghost running a dispensary. The first time I saw him again was five years later, when a young Captain came to pick up a refill. “Colonel Hawthorne never married, Sam,” the Captain told me, lowering his voice. “He’s been waiting for you all this time.” The words were still hanging in the air when Grant Hawthorne walked in. The man was a vision in his dress uniform, instantly drawing every eye in the room. Five years hadn’t stripped the edge from his handsomeness, but the reckless confidence of his youth had been replaced by a hardened, somber authority. He watched me for a long moment, the intensity in his dark eyes suggesting a thousand unspoken words. When he finally spoke, it was only a gentle, measured greeting: “Sam. It’s been a long time.” “Yeah. A long time.” My reply was flat, devoid of any of the turmoil that should accompany a reunion like this. I was careful to let no trace of the past show on my face. I thought of the day five years ago. His adopted sister, Violet, had accused me of prescribing her cheap, defective medication that led to her catching an infection. Grant had exploded. Right there, he’d used the heavy butt of his service rifle to smash the bones in the hand I used for surgery. Then, the ultimate betrayal. He’d posted the intimate photos we’d taken when love felt safe, uploading them to the Joint Base social forum. “My Hot Fiancee,” the caption read, “Proven Good, Available Free.” His own battle buddies had tried to intervene: “Grant, she’s about to be your wife. Why are you destroying her?” Grant, however, was unmoved. “She used bad medicine on Violet, almost caused her a breakdown,” he’d sneered. “And she won’t admit her mistake. She doesn’t deserve to be a surgeon.” “Besides,” he’d added, almost as an afterthought, “I was just scaring her, guys. I wasn’t actually going to let those dirtbags touch her or infect her. Not really.” I stood in the doorway, my face white, and met his eyes. He didn’t look guilty or ashamed. He just walked over, ruffled my hair like I was a wayward child, and said: “You messed up this time, Sam. You deserve the lesson.” “Just fix Violet’s condition, and then go apologize to her in person.” “I’ll still marry you.” I swallowed the scream, the tears, and every shred of my pride. I simply forwarded the link to the first private message I received. The next second, someone messaged back: “I’ll take her.” 1 Grant, watching my screen, clenched his fist so hard the wineglass he held shattered. The officers around him fell silent. One spoke in a low voice: “Colonel, maybe we should call this off? It’s not a good look…” Grant turned his head, looking straight at me. “Sam, what do you say? Are you coming with me to apologize?” I dropped my gaze, turned on my heel, and started walking toward the other end of the corridor. From behind me came his cold, casual voice. “Your ‘wife’ doesn’t have a problem, why are you guys so tense? If the buyer isn’t picky, I suppose I have to follow through.” I kept walking, my feet numb, heading for the exit of the Officers’ Club. The corridor was suddenly filled with whispering and pointing. My hands and feet were icy. Suddenly, a man—drunk, reeking—lunged and grabbed my waist, his breath hot and foul in my ear. “Heard you like the sick ones? Lucky you, I just tested positive for HIV two days ago…” I screamed, thrashing against him. The military spouses and officers nearby simply stepped back, avoiding me with expressions of disgust. The whispers reached me: “That’s her, right? The medical officer who was messing around. So gross.” “Serves her right. She posted that stuff online herself. Now she has the nerve to ask for help.” I was shaking violently. I forced a scream out: “My fiancé is a Colonel! You can’t touch me—” “Got a fiancé but still trolling for sick men online? Your chats are everywhere, lady. What officer would want you now?” He shook his phone in my face, the screen light blinding and painful. “Go on, call your man out. If he actually comes, I’ll let you go.” The moment the words left his mouth, the door to the private room opened. Grant and a few other officers emerged. Seeing him, the tears I’d been holding back burst forth. “Grant! Help me!” He didn’t even look at me. He just smiled at the drunk man. “Relax, buddy. She’s into that. She specifically goes for the sick ones.” Then, he walked past me. The drunk man roared with laughter. “Colonel Hawthorne doesn’t even want you! Who are you trying to fool?” I don’t know how long passed. Suddenly, a gush of warm liquid flooded my legs. The man, terrified, released me and ran off, cursing. I stumbled up and somehow dragged myself to the Emergency Room. I lost the baby. I had planned to tell Grant about the pregnancy on our three-year anniversary. Now, all that was left was a vague, bloody mass on a stainless steel tray. The colleague on duty looked at me, her eyes full of sorrow and hesitation. “Dr. Pierce, Colonel Hawthorne has been putting pressure on the hospital… demanding a severe review. They’ve decided to revoke your military medical certification, and they’re going after you for the training compensation. It’s… almost a million dollars.” I closed my eyes. The taste of rust filled my throat. My colleague’s eyes welled up. “How could Grant become like this? He risked a court-martial to get you transferred here; he almost died rushing into that disaster zone last year just to pull you out.” “He loved you so much. How can he destroy the hand you operate with and ruin your entire career, all for his adopted sister?” Yes, why? I shook my head, unable to speak. When I met Grant, I had no idea he had an adopted sister. He had been wounded while diffusing a bomb near the border—shrapnel just two millimeters from his heart. I stood at the field surgical table for fourteen hours, fighting the Reaper for his life. Three days after he woke, he had his orderly summon me. Beneath the oxygen mask, his voice was rough, but he smiled. “Dr. Pierce, you saved me. My life is yours now.” I dismissed it as the adrenaline rush of a wounded man. But he truly pursued me for a full year, securing the best medical equipment in the whole armed forces for my field hospital. Knowing I often missed meals, he would wait outside the infirmary after every exercise, carrying a thermos. It was hard not to fall for him, yet I was afraid. It wasn’t until three years ago, when a disgruntled, disciplined veteran broke into the infirmary with a knife. Grant threw himself in front of me, taking one slash across his shoulder and another across his arm. I said yes the day he got his stitches removed. For three years, everything was perfect. Until he missed our engagement ceremony. Three days later, he returned with Violet in tow, merely saying he’d “forgotten.” Grant asked me to take care of Violet, and I did my best. Three days ago, Violet came to me, complaining of lower abdominal pain. She begged me not to tell her brother. I thought she was just embarrassed. I ran the tests and gave her anti-inflammatory medication. But when I looked at the lab report, I froze—it was positive. Before I could figure out the best way to tell her, Grant burst in with his orderly, shielding a teary-eyed Violet. With a single command, my right hand was smashed by the rifle butt. Curled on the floor in agony, I managed to ask him why. He looked down at me, his eyes cold. “I thought you were different. I never expected you to be this vicious.” “Just because I missed the engagement, you deliberately gave Violet defective medication and infected her with that disease?” “She’s only twenty-one!” “You don’t deserve this uniform. Destroying your prescribing hand is a lesson you earned.” Violet suddenly burst into fresh tears, pointing at the lab report on my desk. “Sam… you planned it all! You hurt me, and then you forged the lab report!” “Do you hate me that much? I might as well just die!” “Did you already spread this report? What’s the point of me living now?” She lunged toward the wall, but Grant caught her just in time. He looked at me, his gaze icy. “Sam, you’d force my sister to commit suicide just over an engagement?” “Publicly apologize. Admit you maliciously harmed a fellow servicemember and forged a medical record out of personal resentment.” Tears streamed down my face as I shook my head. “Grant, this will destroy everything I am!” “I didn’t do it. I will not confess.” But no matter how I pleaded, how I begged him to have the ointment tested, He simply motioned for the military police to hold my head. In front of the entire medical staff, he forced me to my knees, making me bow my head repeatedly to Violet—a hundred times, it felt like. My blood splattered the floor. The bystanders raised their phones. I finally collapsed, slipping into unconsciousness. When I woke, I found a message from one of his officers, telling me to meet Grant at the base bar to explain myself. Clutching the last desperate sliver of hope, I went. And overheard him arranging to hand me over to someone else. My colleague, seeing the agony on my face, said nothing more. She handed me a box of Post-Exposure Prophylaxis (P.E.P.) pills. “Take these for a month, then come back for a recheck to make sure you didn’t get infected.” I thanked her softly and drifted home in a daze. My phone screen lit up. A message attached to a plane ticket. “Sam, don’t be afraid. I’m coming to get you. No matter the cost, I’ll fix this.” Tears streamed down my face, and I cried myself to sleep.

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