Category: English

The year I graduated, Melanie Vance drugged me. I was set up, ended up with a stranger, and got pregnant. My boyfriend, Ethan Carter, fought his entire family to marry me anyway. He treated my daughter, Lily, as his own. He even promised to hand his company over to her in the future. But today, on our wedding day, he held the diamond ring in his hand and grasped my fingers, yet refused to slide it on. “To be honest, Chloe, I don’t really want to marry you. You disgust me.” “If I weren’t worried about Melanie going to jail, and the fact that she’s dedicated to staying single forever, I would never have chosen you.” “As long as you promise not to cause trouble for her in the future, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. You’ll be Mrs. Carter forever.” I looked past his shoulder. Melanie was standing not far away, a smug, triumphant smile playing on her lips. Slowly, I pulled my hand back from his grip. “I’m sorry, but I’ve changed my mind.” “This wedding is off.” 0Ethan didn’t move. The gentle, affectionate smile was still plastered on his face, showing no signs of anger. He just stood there, quietly watching me, his fingers still frozen in the posture of holding the ring. To the guests, it looked like I was just getting cold feet. And he, the perfect groom, was simply being patient with my childish tantrum. He spoke softly, his tone smooth and calm. There wasn’t a hint of malice in his voice. “Chloe, stop playing around.” “You’re a used woman with a kid. Who else would want you if not me?” Standing nearby, Melanie took a few steps forward. She tried to hide the sheer joy in her eyes as she chimed in, pretending to smooth things over. “Ethan, don’t blame Chloe. She’s probably just too nervous.” “After all, what happened back then was a huge trauma. It’s only normal that she has scars.” The “incident” she referred to was the trap she had personally orchestrated the night of our graduation. She was the one who drugged my drink, ruined my innocence, and stripped away my future. Because of that night, I lost my job offer at a top firm and was pushed into a corner, pregnant and alone. It was only today that I realized Ethan had known the truth all along. To protect Melanie from going to prison, he had suppressed all the evidence and hushed up the entire scandal. And because Melanie insisted on remaining unmarried, he settled for the next best thing—marrying me to keep me quiet. But what they didn’t know was that even though that night was a blur of chaos… I remembered that man’s face perfectly. Ethan might not want me, but my daughter’s biological father was out there. Still, Ethan and I had truly loved each other once. We grew up together, giving each other our hearts. We were the couple everyone thought would last forever. After my scandal, when everyone abandoned and despised me, he was the only one who stood up and insisted on marrying me. He protected my reputation, showered my daughter with love, and even promised her his estate. I believed him. I thought his acceptance was love. Ethan maintained his gentle, accommodating posture. He looked at me with endless patience. “Be good, Chloe. Come back and finish the ceremony.” “What I promised you will always stand. You will be my wife, and Lily will be the only child I cherish.” I looked up, my voice dead calm. “Didn’t you hear me? The wedding is off.” The warmth on Ethan’s face finally flickered out. The tenderness in his eyes faded, replaced by a cold, dark abyss. In the next second, the giant projector screen above the ballroom—which was supposed to play our wedding slideshow—suddenly flashed. Instantly, the room was flooded with blinding white light. What appeared on the screen was not a sweet video of us. It was surveillance footage from three years ago. It showed me, drugged, helpless, and semi-conscious, stumbling and collapsing in a hotel hallway. 0

It was high-definition and silent. But every frame was filled with absolute humiliation. It was the most shameful night of my life. The ballroom fell into a dead silence, followed by a sudden, deafening explosion of whispers. The gasps of the guests echoed through the hall. Thousands of eyes pierced through me like needles. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I never, in my wildest dreams, imagined that Ethan had kept a copy of this security footage. He had hidden Melanie’s crime for three years. Yet, he kept the footage of my deepest humiliation locked away in his drawer. For three years, he had been gentle, attentive, and indulgent. Yet, at our wedding, at the very moment I thought I was being saved, he threw me into the mud and stripped away my dignity in front of everyone. He really did think I was dirty. He wanted everyone to see my shame on our wedding day. He wanted to make sure I could never hold my head up again, so I would have no choice but to remain his submissive wife. In the crowd, Melanie’s lips curled up into a smug grin. She had planned the whole thing, got away with it for three years, and was now watching my public execution with pure joy. Ethan looked at me, his eyes still deceptively gentle. “Chloe, as long as you behave and stay as my wife, I promise no one will ever see this again.” “Otherwise, I’ll let the whole world see just how ‘clean’ you really are.” The cold digital screen continued to loop the video. The girl on the screen was shaking, unable to even stand, sliding down the wall in desperation. The high-res lens captured my flushed cheeks and ragged breathing perfectly. Every second was a slap in the face. The whispers of the crowd buzzed in my ears, sharp and cruel. “So she really was that wild back then. No wonder she got pregnant out of wedlock.” “Ethan is practically a saint. He tolerated this shame and raised another man’s kid for three years.” “Any man would find her disgusting. If she actually married into the Carter family, Ethan would be the real victim.” Not a single person mentioned the drugging. They didn’t care if I was the victim. They all assumed I was cheap, wild, and loose. Tears welled in my eyes. “Ethan, you bastard!” I raised my hand to slap him, but he caught my wrist with brutal force. He flung me to the ground, and his foot stepped on my custom haute couture wedding gown, ripping the expensive fabric. Melanie covered her mouth, pretending to be shocked. She spoke just loudly enough for everyone around to hear. “Ethan custom-made that gown for me, and I only lent it to Chloe.” “Since she ruined it, she needs to pay for it.” I looked up at Ethan in disbelief. He had told me this gown was designed specifically for me. During the dark days of my pregnancy, when I couldn’t sleep because of my anxiety, he had stayed up all night, rubbing my back to soothe me. When my morning sickness was so bad I couldn’t eat, he had canceled his business meetings to cook soup for me, feeding me spoonful by spoonful. In the winter, he would tuck my freezing hands into his warm pockets. When I almost died giving birth to Lily, he stayed by my hospital bed for three days and nights without closing his eyes. Just last month, he held my hand in the boutique, promising me the wedding of my dreams. But in the end, all I got was this cruel betrayal. Melanie bent down, lightly brushing the tear in the fabric, her voice dripping with malice. “This is a million-dollar designer gown, and you ruined it.” “Either pay up, or I’m calling the police.” 0

I lay on the freezing floor, my spine stiff, my body trembling with cold. I looked up at Ethan, but his voice was completely indifferent. “Chloe, you’re the one who threw a tantrum first.” “You ruined Melanie’s things. It’s only right that you apologize and compensate her.” At that moment, it felt as if a dagger had been driven straight into my heart. He was allowing Melanie to humiliate me. He was letting me kneel in front of the city’s entire elite class, stripped of every ounce of my dignity. The eyes of the crowd locked onto me, filled with mockery and disdain. The video continued to play on the loop behind me. Seeing him back her up, Melanie grew even bolder. She leaned down, pressing her lips close to my ear, whispering in a voice only I could hear. “Actually, back then, I was the one who told Ethan to hand you that spiked drink.” “The man you love personally handed you to another man.” “Of course, he didn’t know what was in it at the time. So all his kindness to you over the years wasn’t love. It was just guilt.” “I told you before—a piece of trash like you could never be good enough for Ethan.” My body shuddered violently. My heart felt like it was being ripped to shreds, bleeding out. The pain was suffocating. He wasn’t just covering up for her. He was an accomplice. I pushed against the floor, trying to stand up, but Ethan’s hand pressed down heavily on my shoulder. It wasn’t a violent grip, but it carried an unyielding authority. “Apologize to Melanie first.” “Don’t force my hand, Chloe. I can make sure you and Lily have no place left in this city.” Melanie took out her phone, a nasty smirk on her face. She swiped open the screen and raised her voice so the entire room could hear. “We can’t be soft on people like her! She destroyed high-value property worth a million dollars. That’s a felony!” She dialed the police right then and there. “Yes, I’m at the Grand Plaza Hotel. Someone has intentionally destroyed a million-dollar custom gown and is refusing to pay. She’s being extremely hostile. Please send officers to arrest her immediately!” She hung up and looked down at me, her eyes cold and victorious. I knew what she wanted. She wanted to blow this up. She wanted to use this to ruin me completely. Ethan’s hand on my shoulder tightened, his voice pressing down on me. “Chloe, kneel and apologize to Melanie right now, and I’ll settle this case for you.” “Once the police get involved and you have a felony record, you know exactly what will happen to Lily’s future. Think about her school, her career, and her chance of ever entering high society.” At that moment, a blazing fire of hatred erupted inside me. He was using my daughter’s future. He was forcing me to bow my head and plead guilty. He was forcing me to admit that I was the villain, the ungrateful wretch. I clenched my teeth so hard that the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I closed my eyes. I could let myself be ruined, but I couldn’t gamble with my daughter’s future. “I’m sorry… it was my fault.” My voice was hoarse, thick with unbearable agony. Hearing my confession, the guests snickered, their looks of disgust intensifying. “How shameless! Having a woman like this in our circle is an absolute disgrace.” “She only bows her head when she’s caught. Typical.” “Ethan was kind enough to take her in for three years, and she bit the hand that fed her.” Ethan slowly released his grip on my shoulder. He looked down at me, a satisfied smile returning to his face. “Good. As long as you know you were wrong. The wedding will continue.” The room fell dead silent. Even I found it hilariously absurd. The whispers stopped, and the guests stared in utter disbelief. 0

They never expected that even after all this drama, Ethan would still go through with the wedding. But the most shocked person in the room was Melanie. Her fake, gentle smile froze. The triumph in her eyes shattered, replaced by sheer panic. She stood there, her fingers clenching into tight fists. After a brief silence, the guests began to murmur again, trying to push Ethan toward Melanie. “Ethan, why settle for less? Melanie is the one who actually matches your status. You two are a match made in heaven.” “Chloe’s reputation is completely ruined. She doesn’t deserve you. You should take this chance to cancel the wedding.” “Melanie has been by your side quietly for three years. She’s sweet, sensible, and a million times better than Chloe.” Hearing everyone take her side, Melanie quickly hid her anger, looking down with a flush of mock embarrassment. I pushed myself up from the floor, wanting to leave this nightmare of a wedding as quickly as possible. But a wealthy socialite nearby, who had always despised me, glared at me with disgust. Seeing me struggling to stand, she raised her foot and kicked me hard in the shin! The blow was sharp and sudden, her pointed stiletto heel digging straight into my flesh. A sharp pain shot up my leg, making it go numb. I gasped, losing my balance, and collapsed sideways back onto the floor. My knee slammed hard against the sharp edge of the carpeted steps. A dull, throbbing pain bloomed, making it hard to breathe. Everyone saw it happen, but no one said a word. Ethan instinctively reached out to help me, but when his eyes caught Melanie’s, he froze and pulled his hand back. He saw it. He saw me get kicked and bruised. But he chose to ignore it. A flash of dark joy crossed Melanie’s eyes, but she quickly put on her angelic act. “Everyone, please stop. Chloe has had it hard enough today. Let’s be kind.” Her hypocritical kindness only made me look more pathetic and ungrateful. The guests grew even more irritated, their insults flying again. “Melanie, you’re just too sweet. Why are you protecting a snake like her?” “She has some thick skin, still clinging to the title of Mrs. Carter after being humiliated like this.” Ethan withdrew his gaze and looked back down at me. His eyes were filled with a cold, helpless impatience. “Get up. Let’s finish the ceremony.” With that, ignoring Melanie’s pale face, he grabbed my hand and tried to force the diamond ring onto my ring finger. But in the next second, I pulled my hand back, ripped the ring off, and threw it hard against the floor! Ethan’s face finally twisted in rage. “Chloe! Have you lost your mind?!” Right then, the wail of sirens echoed from outside. Several police officers burst into the ballroom, frowning as they took in the chaotic scene. Melanie stepped forward, pointing her finger at me. “Officers, it’s her! She destroyed my million-dollar custom gown, and she’s trying to scam her way into a marriage!” The two officers stepped forward, reaching out to grab my wrists to take me in for questioning. The crowd watched coldly, laughing at my downfall. Melanie smirked, waiting to see me thrown into a prison cell, completely ruined. Ethan’s face darkened. He made a slight move to step in front of me, but Melanie quickly grabbed his arm, pulling him back. Just as the cold metal of the handcuffs was about to touch my skin… At the entrance of the ballroom, a tall, imposing figure stepped through the doors, cutting through the light. His presence was so powerful that everyone froze. “No one touches my woman.” The man’s deep voice echoed through the hall. His gaze fell directly and steadily upon me. “Chloe, I finally found you.”

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Five years later, I ran into Ethan again at Daisy’s parent-teacher conference. The hallway was almost empty. I was kneeling by the classroom door, tying Daisy’s shoelaces. When I looked up, a pair of custom-made, dark leather Oxford shoes stopped just three feet away. My hand instinctively pressed down on the thick silver cuff on my left wrist. Daisy grabbed the edge of my skirt and shrank back behind me. I patted her hand gently and stood up. He stood there, one hand slipped casually into his tailored suit pocket. His voice was low, laced with a familiar, controlled tension. “Cassie, you’ve been throwing this tantrum for five years. Haven’t you had enough? Come home with me.” The metal buckle of the cuff on my left wrist felt icy cold against my skin. Suddenly, the freezing air of that winter night five years ago seemed to wrap around me all over again. I didn’t look at him. I zipped Daisy’s coat all the way up to her chin, took her hand, and walked right past him. “Mommy, who was that man?” Daisy asked in her sweet, small voice. I paused for a second. I honestly didn’t know how to introduce him.

The automatic lights in the hallway flickered out behind us. I squeezed Daisy’s hand a little tighter and quickened my pace. My left hand subconsciously reached down, pulling the thick metal cuff further down my wrist before shoving my hand deep into my coat pocket. Once we got back to The Little Elephant Library, I sent Daisy over to the reading corner to play. “Cassie, that’s the third one this week.” Luna walked over and placed a termination notice on the counter in front of me. I picked up a red marker and drew a thick line through “Springfield Preschool” on our monthly schedule board. The reason listed was the exact same corporate jargon as the others: “Per higher management’s directive, we are adjusting our external partnership list.” “I had a friend look into it,” Luna whispered, leaning in close. “All three of these preschools are heavily funded by CasStart Academy. That Ethan guy… he’s the founder of CasStart, right? Is he trying to ruin you?” The tip of my marker froze on the paper. The red ink bled into a perfect, bleeding dot on the white page. I capped the marker with a sharp click. “Don’t overthink it.” I pushed my coffee cup aside and pulled out a stack of blank sketching paper. “Go ahead and prep the watercolor palettes for tomorrow. We still have a picture-book class in the morning.” On the service road outside the library, a sleek black Maybach sat idling under the sycamore trees. Ethan leaned back against the driver’s seat. Through the windshield, his eyes locked onto our two figures—one tall, one small—as we disappeared around the corner. He tapped his Bluetooth earpiece. “Mr. Vance, the background check you requested is still processing. The child’s birth certificate is a bit tricky. There’s no biological father listed in the state registry. We’re still digging.” Ethan’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the leather steering wheel. “Don’t stop. Keep digging.” “I want to know exactly who has been hiding in her life for the past five years.” He hung up. On the passenger seat lay a worn-out watercolor brush. The little girl had dropped it earlier. He picked it up, his thumb slowly brushing over the faded, chipped paint on the wooden handle. Nine o’clock at night. After her bath, Daisy crawled onto the bed, smelling of baby soap. She immediately grabbed my left hand. “Mommy, can I wear this bracelet? It’s so pretty.” Her tiny fingers picked at the heavy metal buckle, trying to undo it. I pulled my hand back gently. “Not this one, baby.” “Why not?” “Because…” I ran my hand through her damp hair. “Because this is Mommy’s lucky charm. If I take it off, the magic goes away.” Daisy blinked her big eyes, pondered that for a moment, and accepted it. She rolled over and pulled a worn-out picture book from under her pillow. “Then tell me the story of the little elephant!” I smiled, taking the book from her. As my fingers brushed the bottom-right corner of the back cover, they felt a rough patch. It was a long strip of paper heavily blacked out with a sharpie. Deep, thick, and permanent. It had been scribbled over dozens of times. I stared at the black block for a long moment. Then, I opened the cover and began reading the story of the little elephant looking for its mother. The edges of the pages were yellowed and frayed. It was a hand-drawn storybook. Half an hour later, Daisy’s breathing slowed into a steady rhythm. I closed the book, set it on the nightstand, and switched off the lamp. I sat down on the rug beside her bed. My right fingers traced the silver cuff on my left wrist. Over and over again. In the dark, the old picture book lay silently. Beneath that thick, ugly block of black marker, there was once a line written in elegant, passionate fountain pen ink: “To my Cassie. You are the beginning of all my inspiration.”

The next morning, Luna carried out a cardboard box. “Cassie, do you still want this box of old brushes?” It was filled to the brim with heavily worn markers and chewed-up sketching pencils. “Keep them. Just put them at the very bottom of the cabinet.” I recognized the teeth marks on those pencils. They belonged to Ethan when he was seven years old. Back then, my mother was running a free community art program for underprivileged kids. There was a little boy who always hid under the playground slide. He never spoke, never looked anyone in the eye, and always tightly clutched a broken piece of chalk in his fist. His parents were alcoholics and gamblers who beat him constantly. Every single day, my mother would bring a different picture book to that playground. She would sit just two feet away from him, open the book, and read the story aloud. She did this for three solid months. When she closed the ninetieth book, the boy finally looked up. His face was bruised, but his dark eyes were incredibly bright. “Ma’am… will you come back tomorrow?” Eventually, my mother foster-adopted him. She used her meager retirement savings to buy him high-quality art supplies. She supported him through local art contests all the way to national exhibitions. He eventually won a full-ride scholarship to college. During high school, he was like my shadow. I was quiet and didn’t like to talk, so he used his sketchbook to record my life. He drew me eating cherry popsicles in the summer heat, crouching over my desk solving math problems, and leaning against the bus stop sign in the rain. There was one drawing I never forgot. The theme of his high school art final was “Home.” While others drew houses or family portraits, he drew a single hand. My left hand. The wrist was bare and clean, and my fingers held a paint-stained brush. The teacher asked him how this represented “Home.” He replied, “Wherever she is, that is home.” On graduation day, he shoved a thick sketchbook into my hands. “This is every version of you I’ve ever drawn.” He looked at me, his eyes shining with ambition and love. “No matter how far I go in life, Cassie, you will always be my very first stroke.” After college, we naturally got married. He wanted to start an educational tech company for children. On the day he registered the business, he filled out the form with the name: CasStart Academy. In the beginning, I was the entire creative department. I designed the curriculum, the teaching methods, and the parent-child reading guides. I drew over a thousand drafts under the dim light of our rented apartment, night after night. He handled the funding and the marketing. We got our marriage license, and we were officially husband and wife. I picked up a palette knife and scraped away a layer of dried paint from the tray. The night we secured our Series A funding, during the celebratory dinner, an investor patted Ethan on the shoulder and joked, “Mr. Vance, you’re young and successful. Just make sure people don’t say you built your empire on your wife’s back.” The entire table burst into laughter. On the drive home, Ethan didn’t say a word. One hand gripped the steering wheel while the knuckles of his other hand tapped hard against the car window. I looked at the tight, rigid line of his jaw. It was the exact same expression he wore when he was seven years old, when people pointed at him and called him “trash abandoned by his parents.” That night, when we got home, he sat on the couch and patted the spot next to him. “Cassie, come here.” When I sat down, he began playing with my paint-stained fingertips. “The company has reached a new stage. We need a more professional executive team. Starting tomorrow, I need you to hand over your role as Creative Director. You can step back and act as an advisor from behind the scenes.” I stood by the kitchen island, holding a freshly washed apple. Water droplets dripped from my fingers, splashing onto the hardwood floor. My mind suddenly echoed with my mother’s words before she passed: “He didn’t have an easy path to get here, Cassie. Be patient with him.” I set the apple on the counter. And I nodded. He pulled me into his arms, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Good girl. Go check the garage tomorrow. I bought a new Porsche Cayenne. It’s registered in your name. Think of it as your reward.” The day I signed the transfer papers, the sky was completely gray. I sat alone in my office, opening the folder on my computer labeled [CasStart Curriculum Core System]. Three hundred and seventy-two files. From the very first rough draft of the curriculum to the final version of our interactive reading model. I dragged them all into the shared company drive. When the progress bar hit 100%, a notification popped up on the screen: “Transfer Successful.” I shut down my computer. I began clearing out my desk drawers. Almost every scrap of paper was covered in sketches I had drawn at three in the morning, filled with my handwritten notes. At the very bottom of the drawer lay a photo. It was a team photo taken in the office the day CasStart landed its first major government contract. I was standing right next to Ethan, holding the signed contract, smiling so hard my teeth showed. On the back of the photo, he had written: “Cassie, without you, there is no CasStart.” I turned the photo over, leaving it face down on the empty desk. From that day on, my name vanished from all of CasStart’s public materials. I became a ghost “advisor.” Even in the annual company group photos, I stood at the very edge of the crowd, almost entirely cut out.

The next morning, I took Daisy to the library with me. I set her up with some crayons behind the front desk while I sat nearby, working on next week’s lesson plan. “Cassie, someone’s here to see you,” Luna called out. I put down my palette knife and stepped out of the back room. The day I had handed over my work at CasStart, the sky had been just as gray as today. A new intern had knocked on my door back then. She wore thick black-rimmed glasses, had her hair in a messy ponytail, and was wearing a cheap, faded canvas jacket. Her name was Vivian. When she walked in, she was clutching a crumpled photocopy of a research paper I had published in an educational journal years prior. “Mrs. Vance, I chose this major because I read your research,” she had said, bowing deeply to me. “Being able to learn from you is the greatest honor of my life.” I snapped back to reality and handed a library card to a young mother standing at the desk. That faded canvas jacket was the reason I had let my guard down back then. I had looked up Vivian’s file. Her father was disabled, her mother had run away, and she had survived entirely on financial aid and scholarships. I bought her a complete set of professional art supplies. I mentored her personally, step-by-step. Everything I had learned over seven grueling years, I broke down and handed to her on a silver platter. She was a quick study. One night, we were working late. We were the only two left in the office. She suddenly stopped drawing and stared blankly at her monitor. “Cassie, if someone starts with absolutely nothing… is the only way to get ahead to steal it from someone else?” I looked up at her. Her eyes were red, but she quickly looked down and forced a laugh. “I’m just joking. It’s late. My brain is fried.” At the time, I thought she was just feeling insecure about her background. I felt incredibly sorry for her. Only later did I realize. That was the night she had made her choice. Six months later, at the weekly board meeting. Ethan sat at the head of the table, flipping through the quarterly reports. “Vivian’s style is highly marketable.” “The interactive design of this new picture book series has massive commercial potential. We’ll make this our primary launch next month.” I sat a few seats down on his left. I smiled and added, “The interactive structure of that book is actually the advanced layout technique I taught her last week.” Ethan didn’t even look up. He took a sip of his coffee and moved on to the next agenda item. Over the next six months, every single stroke of genius I taught Vivian became a masterpiece published under her name alone. And Ethan began mentioning her at home more and more. “Vivian proposed a curriculum overhaul today. Her pitch was incredibly sharp—most importantly, it’s exactly what the venture capitalists want to see.” “Vivian stayed in the office until two AM last night. That kind of drive… it really reminds me of how you used to be.” I was in the kitchen, slicing tomatoes for dinner. The knife froze in my hand. “Did you actually look at the core logic of her proposal?” I asked, turning around to face Ethan, who was leaning against the doorframe. “Isn’t it the exact same parent-child reading model I designed years ago?” Ethan frowned. “Cassie, this company employs a team, not a shrine built to worship you.” He walked over, looking down at me. “Vivian has a sharp business mind. Companies need fresh blood to survive. Just focus on being Mrs. Vance. Why are you trying to pick a fight with a junior employee? It’s beneath you.” He turned and walked away. On the cutting board, the bright red juice of the sliced tomatoes pooled like blood. At an industry dinner party a few months later, an investor who had had one too many drinks patted Ethan on the shoulder. “Mr. Vance, let’s be honest. The only reason CasStart’s curriculum is so successful is because of your wife, right? I read her early curriculum models. Absolutely brilliant.” Ethan swirled the red wine in his glass and smiled smoothly. “Oh, not at all. It’s a team effort. Cassie’s health hasn’t been great, so she stepped away from the business a long time ago.” On the drive home, he didn’t say a single word. He didn’t speak to me after we got home, either. He took a shower, locked himself in his study, and kept the lights on all night. The very next day, he had HR remove my photo and bio from the “Founding Team” section of the company website. The official excuse was a “website redesign to streamline information.” When someone on an industry forum posted: “The soul of CasStart is still the founder’s wife, Cassie,” Ethan had the PR department issue a formal statement that same afternoon: “The CasStart creative team is led entirely by our Chief Creative Officer, Ms. Vivian Ward. Mrs. Cassie Vance stepped down from all core operations two years ago.” I saw the press release while sitting on the living room rug, hand-painting a bedtime story for the four-month-old baby growing inside my womb. Yet, that very evening, two insulated luxury delivery boxes arrived at the house. They were filled with expensive organic prenatals, gourmet health foods, and designer maternity wear that Ethan had ordered his assistant to fly in. I turned my phone face down on the rug. I picked up my brush and continued painting the little elephant in the book. It was the first book I was making for my baby, titled “Waiting for You.” He’s just trying to protect me from public gossip, I told myself. Everything will be fine once the baby is born.

Vivian became a frequent guest at our house. Every time she visited, she brought home-baked low-sugar treats and prenatal vitamins. I even showed her my unpublished curriculum drafts. When she left, she would stand at the doorway, her eyes red, holding my hand. “Cassie, you are so good to me. I don’t think I can ever repay your kindness.” I patted her hand, smiling. That night, I was sitting on the sofa, sewing a baby blanket. My phone buzzed. A former colleague from CasStart had sent me a screenshot. It was from Vivian’s private Snapchat story. She had forgotten to block the newer employees. The photo didn’t show her face. It was a silhouette of Ethan sitting at his desk, reviewing documents under the warm office light. The caption was just three words: “My only sun.” I stared at those words on the screen. My hand shook, and the sewing needle pierced deep into my finger. Blood welled up instantly. I didn’t reach for a tissue. I just pressed my bleeding finger against my rounded, four-month-old belly. When I was seven months pregnant, in the dead of a freezing winter night, I woke up. A sharp, tearing pain suddenly ripped through my abdomen. It felt like a cold blade was being twisted inside me. Warm, thick liquid instantly soaked through my pajamas. With trembling hands, I reached for my phone on the nightstand. I dialed his number. “The number you have dialed is currently switched off…” I gritted my teeth, sliding off the bed onto the cold hardwood floor. My blood dragged a long, horrifying smear across the wood. I called seventeen times. Every single call went straight to voicemail.

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My best friend had been desperately in love with a man for six whole years. She always told me he was her first love, the only one she could never let go of. During one of her many drunk crying fits, I wiped away her tears and said, “If you still love him, go get him back.” She pushed me away. “Chloe, you don’t understand.” I didn’t. Not until the night before my wedding. I was in a horrific car accident. I miscarried, and our baby was gone. The very next day, my best friend sent me a Snapchat: [Help me. He came back for me. I’m in so much pain.] Ignoring the tearing ache in my abdomen, I drove five hours through a blinding blizzard to her apartment. Standing under her building, I watched her sink into a man’s embrace. Serena’s familiar, choked voice echoed through the snowy air: “Ethan, I hate you! I was the one who dumped you six years ago. Why did you have to come back?!” At that exact moment, the blood in my veins turned colder than the snow around me. Because Ethan was the man I was supposed to marry tomorrow.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Just hours ago, Ethan was standing by my hospital bed, gently wiping the tears from my eyes. “Chloe, let me go home and make you some chicken soup, okay?” He had kissed the corner of my mouth, promising he’d be right back. So, this had to be a mistake. It was just someone who looked like him from behind. I hid behind a frozen utility pole, my fingers trembling as I sent Ethan a text: [Babe, where are you?] A minute passed. No reply. He had never made me wait for a reply before. Under the dim streetlamp, Serena tried to push him away. “Get away from me!” The yellow light illuminated his profile—his sharp nose, and the faint scar right between his brows. The scar he got from fighting to protect me. It really was Ethan. I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles turned white. Ethan’s voice was freezing, completely unrecognizable. “Serena, stop flattering yourself.” “You want me to leave? Who was the one clinging to me and crying that she was scared just now? Six years have passed, and I’m still the first person you call when you’re in trouble. Is this all the dignity you have?” Serena looked up, her eyes incredibly red. “I’m flattering myself?” “Then why are you here? Ethan, why did you leave your fiancé, who just had a miscarriage, to run to me?!” She laughed bitterly, tears smearing her makeup. “Are you happy now seeing me like this? Do you feel vindicated? You think I’m finally getting my karma, don’t you?!” Ethan’s face tensed for a second. He didn’t answer. Serena wiped her face and turned to leave. Ethan grabbed her wrist. “Let go.” He didn’t. “Ethan, I said let go!” With a sudden pull, he dragged her back into his chest. She struggled, hitting his chest and kicking his shins, but he didn’t budge. “I didn’t mean it that way,” he muttered softly. Finally, she lost her strength. She buried her face in his chest, her shoulders shaking violently. “Do you think I wanted to call you?” “Ethan, when that stalker blocked my way tonight, you were the only one I could think of. You used to hate seeing me suffer even a little bit.” “Do you really think I’ve had a great life these past six years without you?” He looked down, resting his chin on top of her head. “Serena, if you hadn’t left back then… in my plans, we would have had a child by now.” “But why… why did it have to be now?” The world around me fell dead silent. The icy wind crawled down my collar, numbing my limbs. My phone screen stayed dark. Ethan’s reply never came.

I slumped against the pole, completely drained of strength. My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a pair of rusty pliers. So, Serena’s unforgettable first love was Ethan. The mysterious ex she always brought up whenever she got wasted. She used to brag about how much he loved her. How he clumsily wrote her a love letter every single day, how he set off a city-wide firework display for her, and how he gave up an Ivy League offer just to stay with her. I once asked her, “Then why did you break up?” She had slumped over the bar counter, her eyes bloodshot. “Because I was sick of being poor. I took a five-million-dollar check from his snobbish mother and ran. He literally knelt in the pouring rain for two days, begging me to stay, but I didn’t care.” “Love doesn’t pay the bills. I’m just a selfish, terrible person.” When I first introduced them, they acted like they couldn’t stand each other. They barely even made eye contact. After that, they never attended the same parties. I never could have guessed they shared such a passionate, toxic past. I was seventeen when I met Ethan. My teenage years weren’t filled with high school crushes or worries about grades. They were defined by Harold, my abusive stepfather, slamming on my bedroom door every night. That night, Harold was drunk and trying to break my door down. I jumped out of the first-floor window and ran. I ended up in a shady diner, sitting in a corner booth, shivering with my knees pulled to my chest. “You shouldn’t be here.” I looked up. Ethan was standing there, looking down at my oversized hoodie and tear-stained face. I stared at the mature, handsome college guy and whispered, “Why shouldn’t I be? Why are you here then?” He slid into the booth and pushed a cup of warm water toward me. “I got dumped,” he said dryly. “She promised forever, then threw me away like trash.” We talked for hours. After that night, meeting at that diner every Wednesday became our unspoken rule. The night Harold finally broke my door lock, Ethan was the one who kicked the front door open. He threw his jacket over my shoulders and pinned Harold to the floor, punching him until his own knuckles were bloody. Everyone in my family told me to stay quiet. He was my stepfather, after all. My biological dad even threatened me, saying if I called the police, he would cut me off completely. But Ethan told me, “Don’t be scared. I’ve got you.” He hired a lawyer for me and put Harold behind bars. He moved me into his apartment and made sure I could focus on my college exams. That was the first time in my life I realized someone could actually protect me. During my freshman year, I gathered my courage and asked him, “Ethan, could you try loving me?” He froze. After a long pause, he asked, “What if one day, you find someone more important to you?” I stood on my tip-toes and kissed him. “You are the most important.” We got together, and he treated me like a princess. Whatever I didn’t know, he taught me patiently. Whatever I hadn’t experienced, he took me to see. He used to say, “Chloe, you don’t have to feel insecure. What you don’t know, I’ll teach you slowly.” Knowing I had nightmares, he called me every night to read me to sleep. Knowing I loved donuts, he would drive across the city just to get my favorite glaze. I thought no one in the world could ever love me more. I thought we would be happy forever. But now… He was standing right there, leaving me behind while I was still recovering from a miscarriage. Holding my best friend in his arms. He had taught me so much. How to solve math problems, how to protect myself, how to never trust strangers easily. But he never taught me what to do when I found out his heart belonged to someone else.

My mind was a chaotic mess. Images of him making soup for me clashed with him holding Serena. His promise of “I’ll be right back” clashed with his sigh of “Why did it have to be now?” I clutched my phone. I wanted to give our six years one last chance. Just in case. What if he was just trying to get closure? What if he was still the Ethan who risked everything for me? I dialed his number. On the third ring, he answered. “Chloe? What’s wrong?” I opened my mouth, but my throat was so dry it burned. “Ethan. Where are you?” There was a second of silence on the other end. “A work emergency came up, and I had to leave in a rush. I had the housekeeper make some soup and send it to your room. Make sure you drink it, okay?” I stared at the man ten yards away. He held his phone to his ear, his back to me, his shoulders covered in white snow. “I can’t drink it without you here.” His voice softened. “Be good. I’ll be back as soon as I finish this. How is your body feeling? Does it still hurt?” “Chloe, once I’m done with this busy week, I’ll take you on a trip. Didn’t you always want to go to Miami? We can stay there for a few days. I’ll make it up to you.” While he said those sweet words, Serena looked up from his chest, her eyes red. He reached out and gently brushed the snow off her hair. “Ethan,” I called out. “Yeah?” “Where… where exactly is this business trip?” Serena pulled away from him, limping as she tried to walk. He immediately reached out to grab her, his voice turning anxious on the phone. “Chloe, I have to go, something urgent just came up. I’ll call you later, okay?” Before the screen went dark, I saw him grab Serena’s wrist again. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. “You’re sweet-talking her on the phone while holding onto me?” “How can you do both at the same time?” Exactly, Ethan. How can you tell me you love me on the phone, and then turn around to embrace her? Serena pushed him away and kept limping forward. He chased after her and swept her up into his arms. “Your ankle is hurt. I’m taking you to the hospital.” She gasped, then started struggling. “Ethan, put me down!” He didn’t speak, just carried her toward his SUV. “You’re holding me while wearing her ring! It’s a constant reminder that you’re marrying someone else!” “How do you expect me to accept your kindness like this?!” He stopped. He looked down at his hand. On the day he proposed, he had knelt on one knee, holding that ring with a trembling hand. “Chloe.” “I will only propose once in my life, and I will only love this one person.” Under the sunset at Lake Tahoe, his sincerity had completely melted me. I had said yes. When he slipped the ring onto my finger, his eyes were wet. “Once it’s on, you’re never allowed to take it off.” “No matter what happens, don’t take it off.” That was the first time I had ever seen him cry. And he had never taken his off either. Until now. He bent his head, bit the ring with his teeth, and pulled it off his finger. “Stop fighting me, okay?” he whispered to Serena. She went completely still, letting him place her into the passenger seat. I stood frozen, unable to take a single step. As the SUV slowly rolled out of the driveway, it passed right by me. I was only two yards away from him. If he had just turned his head. He would have seen his fiancé, who had just lost their baby, standing behind a frozen pole in the freezing snow, shivering violently as she watched him. He would have seen the tears on my face, my frozen hands, and my phone with the text message he never replied to. But he never looked. I looked down at my own hand. The ring was still there. The exact same platinum band. The exact same initials engraved inside. Ethan. Over these past six years, was I just a replacement? A shadow you used to fill the void she left behind? Did you ever actually love me?

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My husband, Ethan Carter, was a renowned pharmaceutical researcher. To support his career, I secretly signed up as an anonymous volunteer for his high-risk clinical trials, willingly enduring all sorts of agonizing side effects just to help his project succeed. After I was diagnosed with a terminal illness, the only thing that could save me was an experimental drug he had developed. I pinned all my hopes of survival on Ethan. But when my condition finally became critical, he vanished—along with my life-saving medicine. When I finally found him, I watched him give my cure to Chloe, his childhood sweetheart. I rushed forward to confront him, only to be met with his cold, contemptuous gaze. “Chloe volunteered for my clinical trials years ago just to help me! Now she has a terminal illness because of those side effects!” “Can’t you show a little compassion?!” Later, without the medicine, I died an agonizing death in a cold hospital bed. But when he finally discovered the truth, he completely lost his mind.

Before my consciousness faded, waves of excruciating pain surged through my body. I trembled violently, curling into a tight ball, trying in vain to ease the agony. But it was useless. The muffled shouts of doctors and nurses echoed in my ears, but I no longer had the strength to open my eyes. “Her organs are failing,” someone sighed nearby. “Without the A9 experimental drug, not even a miracle can save her.” “Let’s contact her next of kin to prepare for her funeral…” The A9 experimental drug. Hearing that familiar name only brought a sharp, tearing pain to my chest. I had been so close to surviving. But Ethan, my husband, had shattered that chance with his own hands. The A9 drug was the latest breakthrough from Ethan’s research lab. Because it was still in the early stages, the production was extremely limited. The only existing dose was in Ethan’s possession. Two weeks ago, I finally tracked down Ethan, who had vanished with the drug. I found him at Chloe’s private studio. I watched them huddled together. Chloe was sobbing softly while Ethan whispered sweet comforts to her. Then, he pulled out the vial containing the A9 drug and placed it in her hand. A spasm of pain shot through my body. I burst into the room to confront him. My voice shook uncontrollably. “Ethan, I told you! I will die without this medicine!” “You refused to give it to me, saying it was reserved for someone who truly needed it. Is she that person?!” Ethan looked at me, his eyes showing no guilt or hesitation. He met my gaze coldly. “Nora, stop faking your illness. It’s getting pathetic.” “I’m a medical researcher. You can’t fool me with these cheap tricks.” “Chloe isn’t like you, always jealous and insecure. Five years ago, she risked her life as a volunteer for my drug trials, which pushed my project forward. Now, the side effects are causing her organs to fail. How can I just stand by and do nothing?” I stared at Ethan in absolute disbelief, pointing at Chloe, who was shrinking back into his chest. “You think *she* was the volunteer five years ago?” Ethan didn’t answer. He just tightened his grip around Chloe’s waist. My throat tasted metallic, like blood. I gritted my teeth against the searing pain in my chest. “Ethan, go look at the registry files from five years ago. I dare you! I don’t believe you can’t find the truth.” “If it weren’t for you, why would I have spent the last five years screaming in pain every single night because of the side effects?!” I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I covered my mouth and coughed violently. Ethan only frowned, his eyes filling with deep annoyance. “Nora Mitchell, I thought you’d know when to stop.” “Without Chloe’s help, I wouldn’t have the status I have today. Do you think the money you’ve been spending all these years grew on trees?” “I’m going to put an end to your lies once and for all today.” Ethan sighed, throwing a folder onto my chest. “See for yourself. I pulled the original records from back then.” “I know exactly who saved my career.” With that, he wrapped his arm around Chloe and walked out of the studio. Before they turned the corner, I heard him whisper to her, “Don’t worry, Chloe. I’ll save you. I wouldn’t be here today without you.” Out of Ethan’s sight, Chloe turned back and flashed me a smug, triumphant smile. With trembling, blood-stained hands, I opened the folder. The volunteer report—the one that used to have my face on it—now had Chloe’s photo attached. After that day, Ethan subjected me to endless, freezing silent treatment. He didn’t even pick up my last call before I died.

When I opened my eyes again, I realized I was standing right in front of my own body. I watched my lifeless corpse being wheeled toward the morgue. The doctors quickly dialed Ethan’s number. After several rings, Ethan finally answered, his voice dripping with irritation. “Stop annoying me! I don’t have time for this!” The nurse said quickly, “Sir, your wife has passed away. We need you to come handle her body…” Through the line, I heard a fragile, sweet voice call out in the background. “Ethan, my chest hurts.” Ethan replied softly, “Hang on, Chloe.” Then his tone turned incredibly hostile. “Nora, are you seriously acting out a death scene now? You even hired someone to play a nurse?” “Don’t try to stop me from treating Chloe. If you want to play dead, go ahead. Let’s see if I shed a single tear for you!” With that, he slammed the phone down. As I stood there in a daze, a strange force suddenly pulled my soul away. When I regained consciousness, I was standing right in front of Ethan. I blinked, looking around, and realized this was Ethan’s private laboratory. It was equipped with the most advanced medical tech and medicines in the country. I had begged him to let me stay here because the equipment could help manage my symptoms. But Ethan had dismissed my plea with disgust. “The lab is off-limits to outsiders.” Without proper medical equipment, I spent the last two weeks of my life in endless, agonizing torture. By the time I died, my body was painfully emaciated, my cheeks sunken, looking like a hollow shell of myself. And my own husband wouldn’t even come to claim my body. Yet here, Chloe was lying comfortably on a sterile hospital bed, surrounded by a team of professional nurses. She looked pale and fragile, like a delicate hothouse flower. Chloe was never an “outsider” to Ethan. Chloe looked up at Ethan, her eyes crinkling with a sweet smile. “Thank you, Ethan. If it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t have made it today…” Ethan shook his head, gently stroking her hair. “Just focus on resting. The staff here are my most trusted colleagues. You’ll get better in no time.” Sensing the heavy romantic tension between the two, the colleagues laughed and teased them. “Dr. Carter, you and your wife are so sweet together.” “Seriously, you’re making all us single folks jealous!” Chloe’s cheeks flushed pink, but she didn’t correct them. Neither did Ethan. They just looked at each other and shared a knowing smile. I instinctively wanted to run away, but an invisible force bound me to Ethan’s side. I was forced to watch my husband of five years play the doting spouse to his childhood friend. When my organ failure was at its worst, I could feel my body shutting down piece by piece. But that terror was nothing compared to the agony of watching this. How pathetic. I had endured years of agonizing side effects for Ethan, only for Chloe to effortlessly steal all the credit. And my husband never believed a single word I said. I suppose when I first told him I was sick, he didn’t take me seriously at all. Otherwise, how could he have been so calm? Compared to his current panic over Chloe, Ethan had always been chillingly indifferent to anything concerning me. I thought five years of love and quiet sacrifice would eventually melt his cold heart. But the truth was, Ethan’s heart only beat for the girl he truly loved. Ethan cleared his throat, his voice returning to its usual professional tone. “Alright, everyone get back to work. I’ll take it from here.” The colleagues let out a chorus of knowing chuckles before leaving the room. Ethan sat on the edge of Chloe’s bed. “How are you feeling today? Any discomfort after taking the medicine?” Chloe shook her head, playfully sticking her tongue out. “Any drug developed by the brilliant Dr. Carter is bound to be perfect.” Ethan chuckled softly. Chloe seemed to remember something and said, “By the way… we haven’t heard from Nora since she confronted us last time. Have you explained things to her? We’re just doctor and patient.” Ethan’s face darkened, but he kept his voice patient. “There’s nothing to explain.” “It’s her own issue. Don’t worry about her. Just focus on recovering.” Of course. In his mind, there was never anything to explain. I was always just the crazy, jealous wife throwing a tantrum. Ethan reached into his bag. From my vantage point, I saw him pull out a second, identical phone. But this phone had been dead for a while. He plugged in the charger, and after a few minutes, the screen lit up. Instantly, a flood of missed calls and Snapchat notifications popped up. They were all from me—calls I had made and messages I had sent since I was hospitalized. There were also missed calls from the hospital notifying him of my death. Ethan had two identical phones. One was just to deal with me, while the other was his actual phone for daily life. His main phone had his research, Chloe’s contact info, and his real life. Compared to his main phone, the one dedicated to me was practically barren. I was just like that second phone—never truly integrated into Ethan’s life. I was always kept at a distance. And whenever Ethan wanted a break, he could simply turn it off, shutting me out of his world entirely. Because to him, I was utterly insignificant.

Maybe when your heart breaks completely, you just go numb. Staring at Ethan’s second phone, I didn’t even feel a spark of anger. The phone rang again. This time, it wasn’t my number. Ethan stared at the screen for a moment before pressing answer. “Is this Nora Mitchell’s next of kin? The patient passed away yesterday, and her body is still in the morgue. When can you come claim her?” Ethan frowned, checking the number again. “Are you guys ever going to stop? How much did Nora pay you to pull this stunt? I’ll pay you double if you just stop harassing me!” “She was calling and texting me yesterday, and today you’re telling me she’s dead?” “Until she learns how to behave, I don’t care if she’s dead or alive!” Yes, he never cared about anything to do with me. Even when I was actually dead. But that was fine. I was used to it anyway, wasn’t I? By the time he finished speaking, Ethan’s voice was shaking with anger. He slammed the phone down, his face flushed with rage. Chloe asked softly, “What’s wrong? Did something happen to Nora?” Ethan shook his head. “Nothing. Just another one of her dramatic stunts.” “Get some rest. I’m going to check on the lab.” Chloe nodded obediently and watched him leave. When Ethan pushed open the lab door, he found a group of researchers huddled together. He frowned, his voice cold and sharp. “What is everyone doing? Is this free time? Are your tasks finished?” The crowd quickly dispersed, leaving a single piece of paper fluttering to the floor. When no one spoke, Ethan sneered, “Don’t you know we’re at a critical phase of launching the A9 drug?” “Chloe risked her life to test this drug for us, giving us the chance to deepen our research. And this is how you make use of it?” He knelt down and picked up the paper, grabbing a young researcher who was trying to slip away. “What is this?” The young man, terrified of Ethan, lowered his head. “It’s… it’s a case file related to the A9 drug…” “This disease is so rare, so we were just studying it…” Ethan frowned, looking at him suspiciously. “I haven’t heard of any similar cases recently.” The researcher pointed at the paper. “It was sent over by the local hospital.” “Apparently, the patient spent her final days desperately searching for a cure, but she couldn’t find one.” “She passed away yesterday…” Ethan looked down at the paper. When his eyes landed on the name in the patient box, he froze. Nora Mitchell. My name. Ethan’s grip on the researcher’s arm tightened violently, but his eyes kept scanning down. When he read the words *Cause of Death: Multi-organ failure*, his pupils dilated in shock. “Did the hospital mention the exact time of death?” The researcher shook his head. Looking at his pale face, I felt nothing but cold amusement. What? Was he finally starting to believe it? It seemed he only believed me when I was presented to him in the most brutal, tragic way possible. Just like before, when I hadn’t heard from Ethan all night. Even his lab colleagues didn’t know where he was. I had driven through a torrential downpour, checking every place he could possibly be. The rain was so heavy I lost control of the car and crashed into a street lamp. And yet, just that morning, he had promised he would come home to celebrate my birthday. At dawn, I dragged my bruised, bleeding body back home, only to see Ethan lovingly placing a fresh plate of breakfast in front of Chloe. In that moment, my mind went entirely blank. Seeing my wretched state, Ethan had only frowned in disgust. “What happened to you?” I stared at him blankly. “Where were you last night…?” Chloe looked at me with faux guilt. “I’m so sorry, Nora. I didn’t mean to make you worry. I just got back to the country last night and asked Ethan to pick me up. He didn’t mean to ignore you.” Ignoring Chloe’s chatter, I walked up to Ethan. “Yesterday was my birthday.” Ethan stiffened, pressing his lips together. “Sorry. I forgot.” He forgot. Ethan didn’t even bother making up a decent excuse. He just dismissed my entire existence with a simple “I forgot.” That day, we had another massive fight. “Ethan, I searched for you all night! I even got into a car accident! And what were you doing?!” Ethan lost his patience. “Enough! I just forgot!” “A car accident? If you were in a car accident, why are you standing right here? Why aren’t you in a hospital bed?” In the middle of our shouting, Ethan shoved me hard. I fell to the ground while he immediately shielded a trembling Chloe behind his back. I felt like some villainous woman in a cheap drama. My wounds from the crash reopened, bleeding through my clothes, and my chest felt like it was tearing apart. I coughed up a pool of blood. Through the haze of pain, I finally heard Ethan scream my name in panic. Only then did he believe I was actually hurt. Ethan’s trust in me had always been pathetic. I watched Ethan run out of the research center and speed toward the hospital. Once there, he clutched the case file, desperately asking every nurse and doctor until he finally found the physician who had filed the report. It was Dr. Harrison, the doctor who had treated me. Dr. Harrison looked up in surprise. “Dr. Carter? What brings you here?” Ethan slammed the paper onto the desk, panting heavily. “Did you submit this case file?” The doctor glanced at it and nodded. “Yes. The patient’s body is still down in the morgue.” “Did you find something new, Dr. Carter?” Ethan’s hands shook violently as he gritted his teeth. “Take me to her.” Though confused, Dr. Harrison led the way. I followed close behind Ethan as the elevator descended into the cold basement. Dr. Harrison led him to the metal freezer drawers. The doctor pointed to a drawer. “She’s in here. Do you want to see her, Dr. Carter?” Ethan ignored him, his hand already gripping the cold metal handle. As the drawer slowly slid open, the color drained completely from Ethan’s face. Until he finally saw me. My face. Gray, cold, and entirely lifeless.

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At eighteen, the year I won the international piano championship, an earthquake caused a devastating cave-in. To save Julian, my left hand was pierced by a steel bar, and my legs were crushed under heavy rocks. My dreams shattered, and I was on the brink of a mental breakdown. Julian spared no expense finding top specialists and sent me abroad for treatment. Back then, he said with gentle devotion: “Vivian, when you get back, let’s get married, okay?” But in just three years, he fell in love with my lookalike. When she threatened to break up with him, he begged for her forgiveness on his knees, drawing a clear line between him and me. He looked down at me coldly and said, “Vivian, I don’t love you anymore.” I smiled. Right in front of him, I kissed his bodyguard. “Too bad,” I said. “I don’t love you either.” When my flight landed in New York, I received a text from Julian. Exactly as expected. [Vivian, something came up. I sent my bodyguards to pick you up. They’ll keep you safe.] At the same time, a notification popped up on Instagram. It was a trending post about Julian. I tapped on it. #NewYorkBillionaireJulianSterlingDeclaresHisLove Attached was an interview clip. I knew both faces in the video: my fiancé, and the little songbird he kept—the rising actress, Hailey Caine. It was Hailey’s award acceptance video. I didn’t care about what she said, but Julian’s words cut like a knife. A reporter asked him about his relationship with Hailey. He smiled warmly at the camera, making no effort to hide it, and said directly, “Perhaps it will soon become a legally protected relationship.” I scoffed. And turned off my screen.

I discovered Julian’s affair a year ago, quite by accident. During that time, my mental state was extremely unstable. I couldn’t control my rage. I had screamed and thrashed like a lunatic, even holding a knife to my own throat to threaten Julian. Julian had no choice. He promised me he would cut all ties with Hailey. But it only lasted a month before he crawled back to her. Later, he confessed to my face: “I just can’t forget Hailey. I think about her every single night. It’s killing me.” The longing in his voice made me sick. Yet he also knew that our entire youth was tangled together. We were bound by our families’ wishes, destined for marriage. After that, no matter how much I threw tantrums, Julian only watched with cold indifference. In this relationship, I was the only one losing my mind. “Miss Vance,” a deep male voice called out. Sitting in my wheelchair, I looked up. Three bodyguards in black suits stood in front of me. The leader had sharp, striking features and a fierce, athletic build. He stood easily at six-foot-three. There was a band-aid over his brow and a slight bruise at the corner of his lip. He looked like he had just gotten into a fight. I recognized him. Silas Thorne. He had worked for me briefly before I fired him. He was too quiet, too rigid. When did he start working for Julian? “Do you know where Julian is?” I asked, looking away with a flat tone. “Yes.” “Take me to him.” Silas frowned. “You need to rest first.” “So, I should listen to you now?” I snapped back, displeased. My expression darkened. He still had that same stubborn, annoying attitude. Silas fell silent. The atmosphere instantly grew tense. The two junior bodyguards behind him panicked and quickly stepped forward. They smiled nervously. “Miss Vance, please don’t be angry.” “Our boss might have a bit of a temper, but he’s incredibly good at his job.” Silas still didn’t say a word. I let out a cold laugh and threw my handbag right at his chest. Silas let out a low grunt but caught the bag obediently. “If you have a bad temper, don’t work as a bodyguard. Get lost.” “Uh…” The two juniors looked at each other, awkward and unsure of what to say. Silas pushed them aside, walked over with a cold face, and dropped to one knee beside my wheelchair. He gently placed the bag back into my hands. His voice was stiff, but it carried a hint of softness. “My mistake.” “Please don’t be angry.” The two juniors exchanged another look of utter disbelief. I leaned forward, looking down at Silas. Then, I reached out and pinched his jaw tightly. He was tall, even while kneeling. His presence was intimidating. He stared at me. I could feel his body tensing up, the veins on his neck bulging slightly as if he were holding back with everything he had. I warned him coldly, “Let me tell you something. I don’t care whose man you are. If you make me uncomfortable, you’re gone.” “I don’t lack options, understand?” I lightly slapped his cheek. His body tensed even further. “I didn’t mean anything else. I was just worried you’d be unhappy.” “Your therapist told me not to let you get too triggered.” I froze for a few seconds. “What do you mean?” “To take better care of our clients, we make it our business to understand their condition.” I glanced up at the two juniors. They nodded furiously. “Yes, yes!” “Your safety and your mood are our top priorities.” I let out a cynical laugh, slowly drew my hand back, and fell silent.

Silas lifted me and placed me in the backseat of the car. His movements were incredibly smooth, as if he had practiced it a thousand times. As the car merged onto the highway, the passing trees and the familiar streets of the city I hadn’t seen in three years triggered a flood of memories. Julian and I grew up together. Our families had arranged our marriage before we were even born. Both of our families were known for producing musical prodigies. Since I was a child, my life revolved around playing the piano. I played tirelessly, and Julian was my only audience. At seven years old, my performance shocked the world, and I was hailed as a prodigy. Then came the world tours. Julian followed me across the globe, remaining my sole audience for ten years. He loved holding me close, whispering gently in my ear: “I want to be your audience for the rest of my life. I want to be the first one to give you flowers.” The promises back then were so simple. He loved me to his bones, giving me everything he had without reservation. He treated me like a precious child, even though he was only three years older than me. He used to read me bedtime stories. If anyone bullied me, he’d stand in front of me. When I was exhausted from practicing, he’d sneak me out to play. My entire past was him. Which was why, at eighteen, when danger struck, I pushed him out of the way without a second thought. I let myself get buried in the collapse. A steel bar pierced my left hand. I fell, and my legs were crushed under giant boulders. The only light from the exit was blocked. At that moment, I really thought I was going to die there, at eighteen. But I didn’t. Julian went mad trying to save me. He called the rescue team, dug through the rubble with his bare hands until his fingers were bloody raw. Back then, he loved me so fiercely. He was fearless. I thought that kind of love would last forever. I was wrong. I was in a coma for two weeks. When I woke up, I learned that I could never play the piano again. My parents, hearing the news, instantly discarded me like a broken chess piece. They immediately shifted their focus to grooming another prodigy. Overnight, I lost my parents’ affection and my lifelong dream. The despair was suffocating. It completely consumed me. Julian stayed by my side, crying, “I’m sorry, Vivian. It’s all my fault.” “If it weren’t for me, you’d still be the brightest star.” I couldn’t blame Julian. Saving him was my choice. But I couldn’t save myself, and I didn’t know what to do. Later, I developed severe depression and borderline personality traits. I was violent, self-destructive, and constantly on the edge. Time after time, Julian pulled me back from the brink of death. He sent me abroad for treatment. He said, “Vivian, when you get back, let’s get married, okay?” But after that, his visits to Europe grew rarer. The toll of my illness was breaking him, too. When I threw things, he threw things back. With bloodshot eyes, he knelt before me and roared, “Vivian, I didn’t beg you to save me!” “I’m trying my best to help you!” “What more do you want from me?!” And then, he cheated.

When I snapped out of my thoughts, I realized I was crying. Cold tears dripped onto the back of my hand, leaving me momentarily dazed. It had been a long time since I last recalled the past. Those once passionate memories had slowly been ground down to nothing. “Don’t cry for someone who isn’t worth it,” Silas said, handing me a tissue. My expression went numb as I took it, wiped my hand, and replied coldly, “You’re right. He isn’t.” Silas wheeled me into a club. The entire venue had been booked out. The music was deafeningly loud, the lights flashing in dizzying arrays. Hailey was on the dance floor in a seductive red dress, dancing with a crowd. Julian’s doting eyes were fixed entirely on her. Like he was admiring his most prized possession. Actually, the first time I saw a picture of Hailey, I was stunned. She looked about seventy percent like me. She liked bright colors, had long wavy hair, and possessed a seductive charm. Even the tiny mole on the bridge of her nose was in the exact same spot as mine. “Julian, come dance with me!” Hailey laughed, calling out to Julian from the VIP booth. Julian raised his glass with a smirk and started walking over. But before he reached the dance floor, he spotted me. His brow furrowed tightly as he looked at Silas behind me. “I told you to take Vivian home.” Silas said nothing. I smiled at Julian. “Are you not happy to see me?” At this point, Hailey noticed us too. She walked over and naturally wrapped her arm around Julian’s. When she looked at me, she froze. We had never met in person, but I guessed she was wondering why I looked so much like her. “Who is this?” “Hi, I’m Julian’s fiancée,” I introduced myself with a smile. Julian’s face darkened instantly. “Vivian, don’t start.” “Julian? Is she the fiancée you left abroad?” “You told me you drew a line with her! What am I to you then?” Hailey looked at Julian with an expression of utter betrayal, her entire body shaking with anger. Julian looked at me with irritation. “Vivian, did you come back just to make a scene?” “Does seeing me happy make you that miserable? Vivian, I don’t owe you anything!” With a violent kick, he knocked over a nearby trash can. The music in the club suddenly died down. The crowd held their breath, watching the drama unfold, unsure of what to do. “Julian, you were the one who said you wanted to marry me,” I said, my voice completely flat. Julian clenched his fists in rage. “That was the past!” Hailey’s tears fell like rain. “So, everything you said in the interview today was a lie? You never planned on marrying me?” “We’re done, Julian! I want a breakup!” She shoved Julian away to run, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her fiercely into his chest. His eyes were bloodshot as he begged her desperately, “I was wrong, Hailey. Please, don’t leave me.” “You’re the only one in my heart now.”

I watched Julian quietly. Suddenly, I remembered the day he confessed his love to me. In high school, he had written a love letter, mimicking what his classmates did, and slipped it into my textbook. During class, he kept stealing glances at me, terrified I’d miss it. He waited three days without a response. Finally, after school, he cornered me on the track field. “Vivian, are you rejecting me?” I looked at him in confusion, only then learning about the letter. Right there, he read the letter aloud, word by word, declaring his love with shameless pride. I laughed and said yes. He immediately scooped me up onto his back and ran around the track, lap after lap. His sweat and tears mingled, and his eyes shone with a light that belonged only to me. During the countless nights after I found out about his betrayal, these memories would replay. The real, raw love. The absolute devotion. The youth we could never get back. I didn’t know how to let it go.

My mind drifted. I only snapped back when Julian stood over me, looking down with cold disdain. “Vivian, the one I love now is Hailey. I admit we had a beautiful past.” “But people can’t live in memories. We have to move on.” I looked up, my face completely unreadable. He continued, “Let’s call off the engagement.” “Vivian, I don’t love you anymore.” He said it with utter seriousness. It was almost laughable. A gentle smile played on my lips. “Then, as you wish.” “I hope you remember those words.” I averted my eyes. Julian’s gaze darkened slightly. He thought he would feel relieved, but a flicker of confusion crossed his face instead. Every time he had brought up calling off the engagement before, I would throw a fit. We would both end up emotionally destroyed. But today, I gave him exactly what he wanted. My therapist always told me: “If something doesn’t belong to you, gripping it tighter won’t help.” “But what is truly yours will stay, even if you let go.” I believed him now. So, I chose to let go. When I went to leave, Julian stepped in front of me to stop me, but in the end, he couldn’t find a single word to say.

I sat in the backseat of the car, leaning my temple against my hand, staring out the window in absolute silence. The atmosphere in the car was suffocatingly tense. Silas’s two juniors frantically tried to make conversation, talking about fun spots in New York and telling bad jokes. It was noisy. I frowned slightly. “Are you two this loud when you’re with Julian?” The driver laughed awkwardly. “Miss Vance, we’ve never worked for Julian. We only follow our boss.” “Oh?” I raised an eyebrow, turning my gaze to Silas. He was resting with his eyes closed. Sensing my gaze, he slowly opened them. “We only took this as a temporary contract.” “I see.” The car fell silent again. My phone buzzed. Another notification. Hailey had just posted on Instagram. [Giving you both my award and myself. @JulianSterling] In an instant, the internet exploded. Congratulations flooded in, with endless comments about how perfect they were for each other. Silas reached out and tapped my screen, turning it off. “If it makes you uncomfortable, don’t look.” His voice was cold. I knit my brows. Silas was starting to get interesting. He seemed genuinely terrified of me being hurt by Julian’s actions. “What do you think of Hailey?” Silas froze, clearly not expecting the question. But he still answered, “She looks like you.” “And?” “But she isn’t you.” I let out a soft laugh, tracing the edge of my phone. Right. She looked like me. But she wasn’t me. He found a substitute, and then fell for the substitute. I couldn’t help but wonder—Julian, do you even know who you actually love? But he was right about one thing. Over these three years, his life had only gotten better, while I remained trapped in the abyss of the past, stagnant.

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On my birthday, I found out my husband, Ethan, had booked a high-end waterfront restaurant and ordered a massive bouquet of 99 sunflowers. To keep from ruining his surprise, I dressed up in my finest evening gown and went there. But I stood outside the restaurant until closing time, and he never showed up. Instead, I scrolled past an Instagram post from Daisy, the daughter of his late college professor. “The flight was delayed, so I missed the waterfront view, but the one who loves me will always wait for me.” In the photo, Daisy was holding that exact bouquet of sunflowers, her smile sweet and radiant. And around the wrist of the man holding her shoulder was the braided couple’s bracelet I had made with my own hands. Calmly, I liked the post and left a comment underneath. “I didn’t know some people actually enjoyed picking up my trash.” Closing my phone, I looked down at the matching bracelet on my own wrist. It only made me feel sick. I ripped the bracelet off with force and threw it straight into the trash can without a second glance. The phone in my pocket buzzed repeatedly. It was Ethan calling. His voice was filled with impatience. “It’s so late. What are you doing messing around outside?” I said nothing. He continued his endless lecturing. “Stop hanging out with those useless friends of yours. Look at what they’ve turned you into.” “Besides, Daisy has no family here. If something happens to a young girl like her in the middle of the night, who’s going to take responsibility? Stop overthinking!” If something happened to her in the middle of the night… But what about me? My knuckles turned white as I gripped the phone. Hearing his words, I cut him off directly. “Ethan, I’ve been waiting for you outside the waterfront restaurant all night.” The person on the other end of the line fell silent for a moment, his voice suddenly losing its confidence. “Stay right there. I’m coming over now.” The freezing winter wind swept under the hem of my dress. I shivered uncontrollably. An entire hour passed. I huddled under the awning of the closed restaurant, my hands frozen bright red, but the cold was nothing compared to the numbness in my chest. In the end, my best friend, Lily, drove over to pick me up. On the way back, she cursed Ethan out, calling him a piece of garbage. I didn’t reply; I just leaned my tired head against the car door. I felt completely disgusted and exhausted. Exhausted by Ethan, and by our three-year marriage. Right then, my screen lit up. Daisy had sent me a Snapchat message. Every single word dripped with arrogance. She said, “Beg me, and I’ll let Ethan go pick you up.” Attached was a photo. In it, Ethan was making the bed for Daisy in a hotel room. I blocked Daisy on Snapchat immediately. After a moment’s thought, I blocked Ethan’s number too. I stayed at Lily’s place until noon the next day. When I unlocked my front door, I saw Ethan sitting on the sofa, smoking. The moment he saw me, he blew up, questioning me with intense annoyance. “Where the hell have you been? Now you’re staying out all night?” “Didn’t I tell you to wait for me at the restaurant? Why did you run off in the middle of the night? How can you be so immature?” I watched him put out his cigarette, and my chest felt even tighter. I couldn’t stand the smell of smoke. In the past, Ethan refused to quit, so even in the winter, I would keep the windows half-open for ventilation, doing my best to avoid it. But now, I didn’t want to compromise anymore. I changed my shoes, walked over to the window, and pushed it wide open. The icy wind rushed in, pouring down my collar, but I felt nothing. My voice remained flat and detached. “You went to a hotel room with her, yet you still care where I slept last night?” Ethan seemed taken abashed. He stood up abruptly, his brows furrowing deeply. “Chloe, what nonsense are you talking about? Before Professor Davies passed away, I promised him I would take good care of Daisy. Last night, I was just picking her up. You have a birthday every year anyway. I’ll just make it up to you next year.” “Is it really necessary to hold a grudge against a younger girl?” As he stood up, he kicked the coffee table. The glass ashtray slid off and shattered into pieces on the floor. A strange silence fell over the living room. That was when I noticed the faint, half-hidden hickey beneath his white collar. I blinked, a wave of emotion surging in my chest. He was wearing the shirt I had carefully chosen for him. When he was doing *that* with Daisy in the hotel, did he ever think of me? In reality, the waterfront restaurant was meant to welcome Daisy back. Even the 99 sunflowers were meant for Daisy. I looked down, the light reflecting off the broken glass stinging my eyes. So, I had been fooling myself all along. There would be no “next year” for Ethan and me. Just like the shattered glass on the floor, once it was broken, it was broken. I looked up, staring at the face that was both so familiar and yet so strange, and said, “Ethan, let’s get a divorce.”

“Chloe, nothing happened between Daisy and me, I swear. Can you just trust me?” His tone softened, and he reached out to grab my arm. “I was only worried about you. I searched for you all night, terrified that something had happened.” I took a step back, dodging his hand. What was the point of saying all this now? I turned to get my ID from the drawer, but suddenly noticed that my jewelry box had been moved. My heart skipped a beat. I opened it. It was completely empty. Inside was a diamond necklace left to me by my late mother. It was my dowry, and her only heirloom. To me, it was irreplaceable. With a trembling voice, I asked Ethan, “Where is my necklace?” Seeing my red eyes and distressed state, he pursed his lips, looking uneasy. “Daisy said she had an important networking event today and couldn’t show up looking cheap. So, I lent her your necklace.” “But don’t worry, I told her she has to return it right after the event. She won’t ruin it.” As soon as he finished speaking, Ethan’s phone rang. The ringtone was a romantic love song. It was a ringtone that used to belong exclusively to me. But the caller ID now read: *Daisy*. “Ethan, I’m so sorry… I lost the necklace you lent me,” Daisy’s crying voice came through the speaker. My eyes widened, and I felt the blood drain from my face. But Ethan ignored my reaction, asking her frantically, “What happened? Where are you right now?” “I… I was cornered by some sketchy guys when I left the venue. I’m so scared, Ethan…” “Send me your location. I’m coming right now!” Even as he spoke, Ethan was already rushing toward the front door. In his panic, he even put on the wrong shoes. He seemed to have completely forgotten I was standing there, until I brushed past his shoulder and stepped into the elevator first. “I’m coming with you.” Ethan froze for two seconds before frowning deeply as he followed me. “Didn’t I tell you? Daisy and I are completely innocent. Can’t you just give me some personal space?” I stepped into the elevator expressionlessly. Looking at the blame written all over his face, I felt no emotion left in my heart. “I’m getting my necklace back.” Realizing he had misunderstood, Ethan opened his mouth as if to explain, but I didn’t want to hear it. We were silent the entire drive. He glanced at me several times but said nothing in the end. And I didn’t care. When we arrived at the scene, Daisy immediately threw herself into Ethan’s arms without saying a word. Tears streamed down her pale face, her hair was a mess, and her voice was incredibly fragile. “Ethan, you’re finally here. I thought I’d never see you again.” She didn’t even look at me sitting in the car. Or perhaps, she simply didn’t care about me, his actual wife, at all. A police officer walked over from nearby. “Are you her husband? Don’t let a young girl walk down these dark, isolated alleys alone. Just sign here.” Ethan thanked him repeatedly, gently rubbing Daisy’s back to comfort her with one hand while taking the pen to sign with the other. Suddenly, I remembered the early days of our marriage. I had worked late one night and got cornered in an alley by a group of thugs on my way home. Terrified, I had called Ethan, but he was performing at Daisy’s graduation ceremony. Faced with my crying pleas for help, he had casually dismissed it, saying no decent guy would even look at me. He had hung up before I could even finish. Later, the police escorted me home and said the exact same words to him. But instead of comforting me, Ethan had yelled at me. He said, “I didn’t expect you to make a fortune anyway. If you have the energy to work overtime, you should spend it taking care of the house!” I had thought that once Daisy went abroad, our marriage would slowly become happy and peaceful. I never expected these three years to be nothing but a joke. Now that the dream was shattered, it was time to end it. I pushed open the car door, ignored the hugging couple, and spoke in a cold, clear voice. “Officer, I want to file a report.” “Someone scammed my husband and manipulated him into stealing my necklace.” “That necklace is an auction piece worth $150,000. That’s grand larceny.” Ethan stared at me in absolute shock. After all, during our three years of marriage, I had always been gentle and submissive in his eyes, never once going against him. Now, not only did I expose his relationship with Daisy on the spot, but I was also ready to get them arrested. But to me, he was already a nobody. I was going to file the report, and I was going to take back everything that belonged to me.

Daisy stood in front of Ethan with red eyes, speaking defensively on his behalf. “Chloe, in front of the police, how could you not leave Ethan any dignity?” Even Ethan spoke in a dark, warning tone. “Chloe, I don’t care how much of a tantrum you throw at home, but don’t cause trouble in public. Otherwise, I won’t tolerate it anymore!” I slammed the car door shut, walked over to the police officer who was watching the drama, and insisted on filing a formal report. This time, I wouldn’t let things go. My decision to resign from my job back then was entirely Ethan’s fault. It wasn’t just because he criticized me for neglecting the home, but because he had taken the financial project data I was responsible for and given it to Daisy for her graduation thesis. Because the data was leaked ahead of schedule, I was almost arrested as a corporate spy. While I was locked in a holding cell for an entire night, Ethan was busy sending Daisy off at the airport. Every single time, he chose to blame me unconditionally. “Daisy is my mentor’s daughter. Is it wrong for me to look after her? Learn your place!” But why did his gratitude have to be paid with my suffering? Ethan and Daisy were both taken to the police station to give their statements, while I went home to pack my bags. Standing at the entrance of our apartment complex, watching the bustling traffic, I felt a sudden wave of emptiness. Eventually, Lily rushed over, cursing the entire way. If I hadn’t stopped her, she would have driven straight to the police station to run them over. I said nothing, went inside her apartment, and fell asleep immediately. By the time I woke up, the sky was already dark. I saw a text from Lily. She had ordered dinner for me and said she would be back late. So, when the doorbell rang, I thought it was the food delivery. But when I opened the door, Ethan was standing there. Before I could slam the door, he forced a bouquet of red roses into my arms, his tone placating. “Chloe, I came to apologize. I didn’t expect Daisy to lose the necklace. Please stop being mad, okay?” “The police are already checking the security cameras. We’ll find it. But do you have any idea what your little stunt this morning did? The job Daisy worked so hard to get was canceled.” “Let’s be reasonable. You went too far this time. Daisy came back to the country specifically for this job, and now years of her hard work are ruined because of you.” My movements froze. I slammed the door shut with all my strength. The heavy security door collided with Ethan’s shin. He let out a painful groan and bent over, clutching his leg. “Chloe, how did you become so unreasonable?” In his eyes, I was always the unreasonable one, the one making a scene out of nothing. The bouquet of roses slipped from my hands and hit the floor, a card sliding out from the petals. I recognized the familiar, elegant handwriting on it. “Hope my princess Daisy is always happy.” It was signed by Ethan. I felt like my hands had been contaminated. “Ethan, I’ll have my lawyer draft the divorce papers and mail them to you in a few days. We’re done.” “What do you mean we’re done? If we don’t resolve this today, I’m not leaving.” Ethan propped his arm against the doorframe, his face dark. I knew this was the prefix to his temper, but before I could do anything, his phone rang. It was Daisy. Ethan’s face changed instantly. He turned slightly away, his voice dropping into a soft, comforting whisper. “Don’t cry. I’m coming right now.”

I didn’t bother to look at him again and shut the door firmly. Not long after Ethan left, I received a call from the police station. They told me the necklace had been found and asked me to come identify it. However, they also mentioned that while trying to help find the necklace, Daisy had gotten into a car accident and was currently in surgery. I sat silently on the sofa for two minutes after hanging up, then went downstairs, got into a cab, and headed to the hospital. Yet, when I reached the hospital room, I found Ethan’s parents were there too. Daisy was sitting in bed, tears streaming down her face as her shoulders shook. “Ethan is such a good man, but now he’s losing Chloe because of me. I don’t deserve to live!” With that, she ripped the IV needle from her hand, swung her bare feet out of bed, and tried to throw herself against the wall. Ethan barely managed to hold her back. Seeing me enter, he scowled deeply, threw the necklace from the bedside table onto my lap, and spoke in a low, heavy voice. “Your precious item is back, completely intact.” “Daisy almost died. Now that things have turned out like this, are you satisfied?” I weighed the diamond necklace in my hands, saying nothing. Mrs. Miller had never liked me, and now she seized the opportunity. She rushed over, pointing her finger at my nose, and screamed, “How do you even have the nerve to ask for a divorce? Making such a huge fuss over a stupid necklace, even dragging the police into it! How embarrassing!” “Son, divorce her! A lazy woman like her would be sleeping on the streets if you hadn’t been supporting her all these years!” Even Mr. Miller huffed angrily, his eyes wide. “Professor Davies did our family a massive favor. It is our duty to take care of Daisy. A wicked woman like you has a dirty mind, so you see everything as dirty! If anything happens to Daisy today, I’ll use my last breath to make sure you pay!” I looked at Ethan, who also looked indignant, and slowly clenched my fists. Anyone who didn’t know the truth would think they were the ones who had suffered a terrible injustice. But there was no point in playing nice anymore. The precious Daisy they cherished so much might look innocent and fragile, but behind their backs, she had an entirely different face. Did they really think Daisy had just simply returned from her studies abroad? No! I threw the diamond necklace onto the floor. Watching the plastic beads shatter and scatter, my eyes turned cold. I pulled out my phone and tapped play on an audio recording. Daisy’s voice filled the room.

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My fiancé, Manuel, was driving me up the mountain on his motorcycle when we ran into his first love, Hathaway. The former heiress of the bankrupt Miller family was at her absolute lowest, abandoned at the summit. Manuel’s eyes went red. A mocking smirk played on his lips as he taunted her for finally getting what she deserved. But in the middle of the night, I woke up freezing in the tent, only to find both Manuel and Hathaway gone. The biting night wind completely snapped me out of my illusions. I didn’t sleep a wink. It wasn’t until the following evening that I managed to hitch a ride home with a kind stranger. That was when I realized Manuel had never actually hated Hathaway. Confronted by my questions, he didn’t show a single shred of remorse: “Hathaway is different from you, Chloe. She’s never had to struggle.” I let out a soft laugh and slapped him right across the face. “And what about you? Have you ever felt real pain?” The freezing night wind whipped through the gaps of the tent. I gasped, waking up in pitch darkness. An inexplicable wave of panic washed over me, and I instinctively reached out for Manuel, who was supposed to be sleeping right beside me. But my hand met only the hard, cold ground. Another gust of wind blew in. I looked up and saw the tent flap fluttering loosely in the breeze. Outside, the stars were breathtakingly bright, but they only served to illuminate the empty space beside me. My heart instantly squeezed. Where was Manuel? I sat in the tent, completely lost. The entire world was dead silent, save for the howling wind that sent shivers down my spine. Steeling my nerves, I crawled out of the tent, trying to convince myself that maybe he had just gone to find a spot to pee. But the moment I stepped outside and saw the empty clearing under the faint starlight, reality hit me like a physical blow. Manuel’s motorcycle was gone. The man I had been dating for two years, the man I was about to marry, had abandoned me all alone on a deserted mountain.

Deep down, I had seen this coming. Yet, when it actually happened, I was completely unprepared. It felt as if someone had shot me straight through the chest. A dull, numbing pain radiated to my fingertips. Manuel was a motorcycle fanatic. We had been together for two years, and since both of our families highly approved of the match, our engagement had been smooth sailing. To celebrate, we had planned this mountain camping trip a week ago. Today, right on schedule, he rode his bike up here, packed with all our camping gear. What I never expected was that the moment we reached the summit, we would run into his first love, Hathaway. The second I saw Hathaway, every muscle in my body tensed. After all, the love Manuel once had for her had been loud, fierce, and destructive. Manuel was the ultimate bad-boy heir of New York high society, and Hathaway had been the city’s most dazzling “it girl.” Back when they were at their peak of young love, Manuel had gone so far as to sell off a dozen of his rare sports cars and custom bikes just to help the Miller family pay off their mounting debts. But even that couldn’t stop the Miller empire from crumbling. Once the Millers went bankrupt, Hathaway blamed Manuel. She claimed he was useless because he couldn’t drag her out of the abyss. They broke up, and rumor had it the split was incredibly toxic and messy. Later, Manuel met me through a mutual friend. It was love at first sight for me, though I knew a bit about his past with Hathaway. I had assumed Manuel wouldn’t want to get into another relationship anytime soon. But at that charity gala, he had walked up to me, taken my hand, and shared a near-perfect waltz with me. After that, everything fell into place. We dated, got engaged, and made it to where we were today. But even so, seeing Hathaway made my stomach drop. She was a mess. Her clothes were disheveled, but she still carried a sort of tragic, ruined beauty. Her eyes were red from crying, making her look like a startled, helpless rabbit. She was the classic damsel in distress, a fragile doll that men just couldn’t resist. Being the sensitive person I was, I instinctively reached out to hold Manuel’s hand. But in the next second, a cruel, mocking laugh escaped Manuel’s lips. “Well, well. Hathaway. What happened to you? Fallen on hard times?”

Manuel’s tone was incredibly harsh. Hathaway looked up, staring at him with wide, tearful eyes. She choked out his name in a trembling whisper: “Manuel…” The moment that name left her lips, I felt Manuel’s grip on my hand tighten painfully. He didn’t say another word, his face darkening as he glared at her. From start to finish, Hathaway never once looked at me. Her tear-filled eyes were locked entirely on Manuel. “Manuel… some people threw me out of their car and left me up here…” “Can you please drive me down?” Her voice was barely a whisper, her shoulders shaking violently. If I were Manuel, I probably would have felt a twinge of pity. But Manuel didn’t show any mercy. Instead, he sneered coldly, “So the great heiress of the Miller family has finally met her match? What, did you lose your legs? Can’t walk down yourself?” The sky had gone completely dark, and Manuel’s words were honestly borderline cruel. If he had spoken to any other girl like that, I would have scolded him. But the woman standing before us was Hathaway—the woman my fiancé had spent years in a passionate, toxic cycle with. Driven by selfish human nature, I chose to remain silent. Hathaway looked as if she might collapse at any moment. After a few agonizing seconds, she let out a shattered, hollow laugh. “You really hate me that much, don’t you…” Manuel’s expression flickered. He squeezed my hand so hard it felt like my bones were going to crush. I let out a soft gasp of pain, which finally jolted him back to the realization that I was still standing right next to him.

I knew for a fact that Manuel had abandoned me because of how much he coddled his motorcycle. When we were setting up the tent in the afternoon, he had parked his bike right in the middle of the clearing directly in front of us. After she uttered that dramatic line about him hating her, Hathaway had quietly walked over to a nearby pine tree, curling her legs up to her chest. Manuel didn’t say anything more. He quietly went about setting up the camp. He pitched the tent, set up the portable grill, and did all the heavy lifting without letting me lift a finger. He acted the part of the doting, deeply-in-love fiancé to perfection. But I could tell he was trying way too hard. It felt like a performance staged entirely for Hathaway’s benefit. A knot tightened in my chest, but since Manuel was doing everything perfectly, I could only swallow my unease and keep quiet. Manuel stayed inside the tent with me until dusk. By then, the wind had picked up, bringing a biting chill. I peeked out of the tent and saw Hathaway still huddled under the tree, shivering. This mountain wasn’t that massive. If she had started walking down earlier, she would have reached the base by now. The fact that she was still here meant she was waiting on purpose. Unable to watch any longer, I grabbed a spare jacket and some energy bars, stepped out of the tent, and walked over to her. “The wind gets really cold at night, Miss Miller. You shouldn’t freeze.” I held the items out to her. She merely spared them a dismissive glance, refusing to take them. Instead, she looked up at me with a provocative smirk. “Do you really think he hates me?” I choked on my words. She was right. Manuel didn’t hate her. If he did, I wouldn’t have been feeling this mounting dread ever since she showed up.

Manuel and I had our engagement party a month ago. That night, Manuel had gotten absolutely wasted. It was the first time I heard him say Hathaway’s name. We had been together for two years, and I had always known she existed. But the Millers were ruined. She was no longer a high-society princess. She, Manuel, and I were no longer from the same world. Besides, when she left him, she had said some incredibly nasty things to crush his pride. So, I had never viewed her as a threat. Until the party ended, the crowd dispersed, and I was helping a drunken Manuel back to his place when I heard him mumbling. At first, it was just a low slurring: “We’re engaged… we’re finally engaged.” I thought he was just overjoyed, so I gently ran my fingers through his hair with nothing but love in my heart. I asked him, “Are you really that happy to be engaged to me?” Manuel didn’t open his eyes, nor did he answer. He just grabbed my hand, pressing frantic, desperate kisses against my fingertips. But just as my heart was melting, he whispered her name. “Hathaway… we’re really over now, aren’t we…?” “Why… why did you have to do this to me…?” “Chloe is great… I’m going to marry her… Don’t you dare regret this…” Those whispered words felt like lightning striking my skull. My entire body went rigid. In our two years of dating, he had never once mentioned her name or his past. As his partner, I had always respected his boundaries and never pried, believing he had moved on. But it took him getting blackout drunk at our engagement party to finally spit out the truth. He hadn’t forgotten her. He had just buried her deep in his chest. I didn’t sleep at all that night. The next morning, Manuel woke up remembering absolutely nothing. After debating with myself, I decided to bury the incident. Firstly, we were already engaged. Over the last two years, the business ties between the Alexanders and my family had grown incredibly tight. A broken engagement would cause a massive, unnecessary PR disaster for both companies. Secondly, Hathaway was nobody now. Even if Manuel still had feelings for her, the chances of them getting back together were practically zero. But standing on this mountain, I realized how incredibly naive and foolish I had been. Their love hadn’t been erased by time. If anything, the distance had only made it more agonizingly poetic. Even when Manuel spat venom at her, she still held the ultimate power over his heart. And I, from beginning to end, was nothing but a rebound. A joke. The freezing midnight wind seemed to penetrate my very bones. I was completely alone on this massive, pitch-black mountain, surrounded by the eerie rustling of the pine trees. At that moment, my heart turned completely to stone.

I went back into the tent to grab my phone, only to find it had died. Fumbling around in the dark, I realized the tent was practically cleared out. Even the spare jacket I had offered Hathaway earlier was gone—Manuel must have taken it. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. No wonder Hathaway didn’t want my jacket. She was just waiting for Manuel to wrap his own around her shoulders. With nothing left in the tent, I used the faint moonlight to find a heavy, sharp rock nearby to keep with me for self-defense. This mountain was private property, belonging to some elusive billionaire. The billionaire was currently abroad, and since Manuel was a friend of his, he had gotten permission to bring me up here. Even though it was private property, there was no guaranteeing some creep wouldn’t wander up here. Aside from the chirping of insects and the rustling leaves, there was no other sound. I huddled in the corner of the tent, my entire body shaking from the cold. I hadn’t expected Manuel to be this heartless. He had left me with absolutely nothing but a hollow nylon tent. A cold chuckle escaped my lips. The last lingering thread of hope I had for Manuel snapped. Maybe I had been hurt too many times, because at this very moment, I felt strangely numb. Amidst the chaotic storm in my mind, only one thought became crystal clear: I was going to call off this engagement.

I stayed awake the entire night. Without my phone, I had no concept of time until the horizon began to bleed with faint gold light. Just like the rising sun, my mind slowly cleared and settled. As the sun fully emerged, flooding the sky with brilliant light, I felt a strange sense of rebirth. Exhaling a long breath of cold air, I stood up and began my trek down the mountain. Since Manuel had driven off with Hathaway, I had zero expectations of him returning for me. The trail wasn’t particularly steep, but perhaps due to my lack of sleep and sheer exhaustion, it didn’t take long before I started feeling incredibly weak and lightheaded. The paved road wound down in endless, dizzying loops. My steps grew heavier with each turn, and hot, angry tears finally started pouring down my face. My family hadn’t always been wealthy, but my mother had never let me suffer or feel neglected. Manuel used to tell me he loved girls who were gentle, elegant, and composed. From that day on, I changed everything—my style, my speech, my manners—just to fit his ideal of a “perfect, elegant lady.” Whenever he looked at me with approval, I thought we were building a beautiful life together. But now I knew it was all a pathetic, one-sided delusion. He had never loved me. The only person he truly cared about was Hathaway. I didn’t know how long I had been walking. Dehydrated and starved, my body felt like lead. Gasping for air, I leaned against a tree trunk and slowly collapsed onto the dirt road. Just then, the low rumble of an engine caught my attention. A white SUV was driving up the winding road toward me. Desperate, I forced myself to stand up to wave for help. But the moment I stood, the entire world spun violently, and my vision went black.

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My best friend and I married into the Miller family. I married Zachary, the athletic swimming coach elder brother, while she married Ethan, the licensed therapist younger brother. We lived in the same suburban neighborhood, right next door to each other. Under constant, suffocating pressure from their mother to start families, Abby and I got pregnant around the same time. But after I suffered a devastating miscarriage, I fell into severe postpartum depression. My days became a blur of darkness. Every single night, I would wake up screaming from nightmares, my nerves completely shot. One night, shivering in the corner of my dark bedroom, I frantically called my husband. After he hung up on me five times in a row, he finally picked up. His voice was filled with nothing but annoyance and anger. “Chloe, do you have any idea how busy I am? I have a class to teach, and Mia is waiting for her private lesson. Stop annoying me!” Just when I was on the brink of complete despair, Abby came over to check on me. Seeing my state, Abby carefully called her husband, Ethan, hoping his professional background as a therapist could help me. But Ethan only barked back impatiently, “Do you think I have free time to waste? My clinic is fully booked, and patients have to schedule weeks in advance. Besides, Mia is having a rough day and needs my counseling. Stop making a scene!” Eventually, unable to bear the agony, I jumped into the river. My husband, who was nearby, just stood on the bank, scoffing and telling people I was just faking it to get attention. Only Abby didn’t hesitate. She dove into the freezing water and dragged me back to the shore. Because she stayed in the icy water for too long to save me, Abby lost her own baby. The moment we opened our eyes in the hospital, Abby and I looked at each other and made a firm decision. We were getting divorced.

I stared blankly at the ceiling, the sharp smell of bleach in the hospital room pulling me back to reality. I sat up, gently touching my flat belly. A dull, sharp pain rippled through my heart. My baby died during that miscarriage, and with it, my heart died too. Even after everything that had happened, Abby was still the only one sitting by my hospital bed. I picked up my phone and called Zachary. It rang and rang until it went to voicemail. I was used to it. But this time, I didn’t quietly hang up and wait for him to call me back whenever he felt like it. I redialed. Again and again. Finally, he picked up. Before I could even breathe a word, his irritated voice blasted through the speaker. “What do you want now? I told you, I’m working! Don’t call me during my hours!” In the background, I could hear high-pitched giggles, splashing water, and Mia’s playful voice teasing Zachary. A bitter sting hit my chest. I paused, taking a deep breath, and spoke clearly. “Zachary, let’s get a divorce.” The noisy background suddenly went dead silent. Then, he roared. “Are you out of your mind? Ever since you lost the baby, you’ve been acting so damn dramatic! First, you claim you have postpartum depression and need a therapist, then you throw yourself into a river just for attention. What the hell do you want from me?!” “I’ve told you a thousand times, Mia is just my student. I’m her coach. Why do you have to be so ridiculously paranoid? Stop playing these stupid games. Honestly, I regret marrying you!” With a harsh click, Zachary hung up. I sat frozen on the hospital bed, tears spilling over and soaking the coarse hospital sheets. I never thought the man I loved for eight years—the one I went from college sweetheart to wife with, the one I stood by when he had absolutely nothing—could say something so heartless. Was Mia really just a student? When I was drowning in postpartum depression, he spent every waking hour by her side. I remembered how the depression had clawed at my mind. I couldn’t control my emotions, and I started hurting myself. I had taken a paring knife and traced it over my arms, over and over. Only when the bright red blood started dripping down did the numbness in my chest temporarily fade. When I finally snapped out of it, I was terrified of my own reflection. With trembling hands, I called Zachary. He hung up five times before finally answering. But all I got was: “Chloe, do you have any idea how busy I am? I have a class to teach, and Mia is waiting for her private lesson. Stop annoying me!” He hung up, leaving me in total darkness. My heart went completely cold. I wandered outside, trying to clear my head. And that was when I saw them at a local dessert shop, looking like a picture-perfect couple.

Mia had scooped up a piece of red velvet cake and fed it to Zachary. Zachary didn’t lean back. He smiled warmly and ate it right from her fork. Under the soft yellow lights of the shop, they looked like the ones who were married. Zachary didn’t come home that night, and his phone was off. When he finally walked through the door the next morning, he uncharacteristically handed me a gift—a designer necklace. It felt like the cheap guilt of a cheating man. I didn’t call him out. Instead, I kept playing the role of the quiet, compliant wife. I walked up to him, gently touching his arm, my voice laced with desperate pleading. “Zachary, I really feel like I’m losing my mind. Can you please come with me to see a doctor? Just this once?” He frowned instantly, cold-shouldering me and shaking my hand off his arm. “You know how busy I am. I don’t have time for your emotional episodes.” “We lost the baby, and I didn’t even complain, yet you’re the one having a psychological breakdown? Maybe I’ve spoiled you too much. You can’t even handle a minor setback.” That was the last straw. The thread holding my sanity snapped. That afternoon, unable to carry the weight anymore, I threw myself into the local river. Zachary had been standing by the bank, watching from a distance. There was no panic in his eyes, no urge to save me. He even joked to a friend standing nearby, “Let me tell you, you can’t spoil women too much. She’s just throwing a tantrum to get my attention.” But he forgot that after my miscarriage, my body was extremely weak, and I was terrified of cold water. When Abby rushed to the scene, she screamed curses at Zachary, calling him a spineless coward, and leaped into the rushing river to drag me out. Because of the freezing water and physical exhaustion, she miscarried her baby the very next day. Back in the hospital room, Abby looked at me. She had obviously heard every word of my phone call with Zachary. Tears streamed down her pale face as she spoke. “Those bastards. They’ve gone too far. Not a single man in that Miller family is human.” She wrapped her arms around me, gently patting my back. Suddenly, her phone buzzed loudly on the nightstand. She pulled away and answered it. Immediately, Ethan’s furious voice boomed through the speaker. “What is wrong with you two? You’re pregnant, Abby! How dare you jump into a river to save someone? If your friend wants to die so badly, let her! Why did you have to risk my baby’s life?” “I’m warning you, if anything happens to my child, you will pay for this!” Ethan clearly didn’t even know Abby had already miscarried. He had never cared enough to ask. “Ethan!” Abby yelled, her voice shaking with rage. “You absolute piece of trash! Your brother’s wife almost died, and all you can do is spit poison? Every word out of your mouth is about ‘your baby.’ What about me? Have you asked about me even once?!” Ethan, shocked by her sudden outburst, only got angrier. “I think I’ve pampered you too much! You’re a grown woman, stop being so pathetic!” “Besides, who pays for your food, your clothes, and your car? Me! Carrying my child is your job. If you keep acting this crazy, you can pack your bags as soon as you give birth!” “If it weren’t for the baby, I would have divorced you a long time ago. Who else would want a dramatic wreck like you?!” He slammed the phone down before she could reply. Abby threw her phone onto the mattress, screaming, “Ethan, you motherfucker! I am divorcing you!” After the anger subsided, she broke down, sobbing uncontrollably. I held her close, my own tears falling silently. I couldn’t understand how years of love could turn into this overnight. Abby and I had moved across the country, leaving our families behind, just to build a life with these men. And what did we get? In our darkest hour, not a single soul cared if we lived or died. We only had each other. Zachary had become so sharp, so hostile. His attitude, his voice, his silence—they had eroded every bit of my confidence. Giving up on him felt like the only way to survive.

After we were discharged from the hospital, Abby and I rented a small apartment downtown. We couldn’t bring ourselves to step foot back into those toxic suburban houses. We spent a week in our new place, enjoying the quiet. During that entire week, neither of them called. No texts, no check-ins. They didn’t care. Maybe this was what they wanted all along. Freedom. One evening, we were lying in bed scrolling through TikTok. Suddenly, Abby gasped. “Oh my god, Chloe, look at this!” She shoved her screen in front of my face. It was Mia’s TikTok account. She had posted a photo of the three of them on a tropical beach. Zachary was on her left, holding her designer beach bag. Ethan was on her right, holding an umbrella to shade her from the sun. Mia was in the middle, throwing her head back with a radiant smile. The caption read: *”True friendship transcends gender.”* She tagged it: `#SwimmingCoach #Therapist #PureFriendship #Besties`. If there was a global championship for being absolute trash, these three would easily take the crown. The comment section was flooded with envious replies: *”Omg girl, you are eating so well! Living the dream!”* *”Manifesting a hot coach and a handsome therapist in my life ASAP.”* *”This is literal fanfiction material.”* I stared at the screen, silent. Even though I had already checked out of the marriage, seeing my husband play puppy dog to another woman while I was recovering from a miscarriage still felt like a physical blow to the chest. Abby was practically hyperventilating next to me. “Unbelievable. It hasn’t even been a week, and they’re already parading her around?” I shook my head, trying to sound indifferent. “It’s fine. It doesn’t concern us anymore. But they probably haven’t received the divorce papers yet.” We had hired a lawyer to draft the papers a few days ago, but since they were busy vacationing, the delivery must have failed. Abby tapped her phone screen and said, “Let’s go find them tomorrow. Mia’s TikTok says they’re landing back in the city tomorrow morning.” “Okay,” I agreed. It was time to end this. Since Ethan’s therapy clinic was closer to our apartment, we decided to drop by his office first. The receptionist let us through, and we walked down the hallway to Ethan’s private room. When we pushed the door open, we caught Mia sitting right on the edge of Ethan’s desk, her fingers playfully tracing his jawline. The sexual tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. Abby, never one to hold back, marched straight up to them and slapped Mia across the face. “Have you no shame? Do you only get off on married men, or did your TikTok fans forget to mention you like playing with brothers?” Mia’s cheek flushed bright red, and she gasped, clutching her face. “You—” Ethan reacted instantly, stepping in front of Mia like a protective guard dog. “Are you insane?! Abby, you are seriously mentally unstable! Apologize to Mia right now!” Abby stared at him, her eyes wide with disbelief. “I will never apologize to this bitch!” Ethan’s face contorted with rage, and he raised his hand to strike Abby. I lunged forward, grabbing his wrist and shoving him back. “Don’t you dare touch her! You’re going to hit your wife for some home-wrecking trash? Do you hear yourself?!” Before I could finish, Ethan’s phone began to ring. He swiped to answer, his voice dripping with venom. “Zach, your wife just dragged Abby to my clinic. They’re making a huge scene, screaming and throwing dirt at me and Mia.” He clicked the speakerphone and shoved the screen toward my face. “Your husband wants to talk to you.” The second I took the phone, Zachary’s furious voice screamed through the speaker. “Chloe, you are unbelievable! How dare you show up at my brother’s workplace and cause a scene? If you don’t care about your reputation, we care about ours!” “I have told you a thousand times, Mia is just a friend! If you want to keep being a paranoid psycho, that’s your problem!” “Go back to the house right now. Stop testing my patience before I lose my temper. People are going to think I married a trailer-trash shrew!” Hearing Zachary defend her, Mia sniffled softly, playing the innocent victim. “Chloe, please don’t be mad. We really are just friends. If my presence makes you uncomfortable, I’ll just stay away from now on…” I couldn’t stand her fake, dripping-sweet voice for another second. “Shut up, Mia. Stop flattering yourself,” I snapped. “We didn’t come here to catch you in the act. We came to get a divorce.” The room fell dead silent.

After a beat of stunned silence, Zachary’s roar shattered the quiet. “What did you just say?!” “I said, I want a divorce,” I repeated, enunciating every single word. “Fine! If you’re so brave, come down to the community pool right now, and we’ll go straight to the courthouse to sign the papers!” “I’ll be there. Don’t back out!” I snapped and ended the call. I looked up, meeting Ethan’s stunned gaze. “What are you staring at? You’re signing yours today too.” To make sure neither of them could run, we forced Ethan to come with us to Zachary’s pool. And of course, Mia insisted on tagging along, looking smug, as if she was about to walk down the aisle the moment our signatures dried. Since it was the off-season, the community pool was practically deserted. We spotted Zachary standing near the deep end. I pulled the prepared divorce papers from my bag and thrust them toward him. He looked at the bold letters at the top of the page, but he didn’t reach out to take them. Instead, he let out a cold laugh. “What is this? Another one of your stupid little attention-seeking games?” As he tilted his head, I caught a glimpse of a faint red mark on his collarbone. I slowly looked at Mia. She noticed my gaze, arched an eyebrow, and offered me a victorious, mocking smirk. An intense wave of nausea hit me. The taste of bile rose in my throat. Forcing myself to stay upright, I said, “No. I am entirely serious.” Seeing the cold determination in my eyes, his smug expression finally cracked, replaced by irritation. “Is this because of that phone call? Because I was busy coaching and snapped at you? Or is it because I didn’t take you to the therapist, or because I didn’t jump in to pull you out of the water?” My chest tightened. So, he knew. He knew exactly how much those actions would hurt me, yet he chose to do them anyway. “Yes. All of it. And so much more.” The thousands of moments where he chose to ignore me had built a wall between us that could never be broken down. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s such a minor issue, Chloe. Do you really have to bring up divorce over every little thing? When are you going to grow up?” I let out a soft laugh. Of course. A narcissist never believes they did anything wrong. Before I could speak, Mia cut in, her voice dripping with fake concern. “Is it possible that you found someone else, Chloe? Is that why you’re in such a rush to leave Zachary?” Abby snapped. “Shut your mouth, you disgusting liar!” She stepped forward to push Mia away from us. But before Abby’s hand could even make contact, Mia let out a theatrical gasp and threw herself backward, plunging straight into the deep end of the pool. “Mia!” Ethan yelled, immediately turning on Abby in a rage. As Abby stood there, arms crossed, her loose sweater clung to her frame. Ethan’s eyes traveled down, and he froze. Her stomach was completely flat. His eyes turned red. “Where is my baby?!” he demanded, grabbing her shoulder. Abby looked at his furious, panicked face and said coldly, “Gone. Took you long enough to notice.” Ethan shook her violently. “How did it happen?! Tell me how!” When Abby remained silent, his eyes darted to me. He remembered the day I jumped into the river. “It was you!” he screamed, lunging at me. “You did this, you crazy bitch!” With a violent shove, he pushed me backward. *Splash!*

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The night I decided to get a divorce, a single social media post blew my entire world apart. I had just posted on Instagram when my phone screen started blowing up with fifty-six missed calls. I shut the phone down immediately, without a single shred of hesitation. Just a few hours ago, I had accidentally stumbled upon my husband Stockton’s private social media account. That was how I uncovered a fourteen-year-old lie. It was filled with his endless yearning for his first love, Olivia, and even proudly documented how he had adopted Olivia’s child. “Loving your child is just another way of loving you. Let our love flow through his veins.” Yet, I was the one who had managed the household, spent ten years raising this child by his side, and helped him through his hardest times. In the story of his life, I didn’t even exist. At first, when I saw that post, I actually scoffed. What kind of idiot would raise another woman’s child for her husband’s first love? I scrolled down a few pages. It was all diary entries and quotes about unrequited love. But the moment I looked closely at the handwriting in those quote images, I froze. That elegant cursive belonged to my husband, Stockton. He had studied under my father, a renowned literature professor, for twenty years, starting from when he was just a young student. My father always praised his handwriting; Stockton was his prized protégé. I still couldn’t believe it. I scrolled through his posts from the very beginning. The very first entry was dated June 10, 2010. It read: “High school is over, but our youth isn’t. To my dream girl, I wish I could protect you forever. I’m dedicating this account to my silent love for you.” It had been exactly fourteen years. And he had updated it every single day. In the morning, after we made love, he would whisper “I love you” to me. But then he would log onto that account and write: You are the blurry line between hopeless waiting and unwavering faith. At noon, he would text me to ask if I had eaten, reminding me not to forget the fresh fruit he had packed for me. But on that account, he wrote: Everyone has something they hold onto, even when they know it’s completely pointless. At night, he would hold me to sleep, a happy smile on his face, telling me tonight would bring sweet dreams. But his account read: You cannot be my poetry, just as I cannot be your dream. Our son, Julian’s smiling face was sprinkled throughout those posts, as if mocking my years of foolishness and wishful thinking. Julian’s loud voice calling out for dinner broke my train of thought. I heard Stockton leading him through the front door. After soothing the boy, Stockton walked into the kitchen to cook. When I walked out of the study, ten-year-old Julian looked at me in surprise. “Mom? You’re home? Why didn’t you cook? Dad and I thought you were out.” Stockton walked out carrying two plates of pasta and was startled to see me. “I didn’t know you were home, honey,” he said apologetically. “You and Julian go ahead and eat. I’ll whip up another plate for myself.” I stared at him for a long time, trying to find a crack in his eyes. There was nothing. Except for regret and warmth, I couldn’t find a single trace of negativity. He didn’t even show any impatience about having to heat up the kitchen again in the middle of a scorching summer. I shook my head, signaling I had no appetite. I was too disgusted to eat. I watched Stockton take a picture of Julian eating. Suddenly, I asked him, “You’re always taking pictures of Julian, but I never see you post them on Instagram. Where do you keep them?” Stockton’s back stiffened. A tiny crack finally appeared in his perfect facade. He forced a calm smile. “I don’t post them much. They’re all backed up on my cloud drive. They’re just for memories.” Julian piped up from the table. “Yeah, Dad shows them to me all the time! He writes these super cool captions for them. He’s way more detailed about my growth than you are, Mom!” With that, the two of them exchanged a knowing, playful look. Ah. It turned out father and son were cut from the same cloth. Neither was innocent.

That night, I created a burner account and immediately set Stockton’s private profile to ‘Favorites’. I took screenshots of every single post he had ever made. About ten minutes later, a notification popped up. Stockton had posted something new. It was a picture of Julian eating pasta. The caption read: Sharing a little secret with Julian today. It reminds me of the pink wish-paper we used to hide under the old oak tree. Like a masochist, I chewed on his words over and over again. They were dripping with his deep, desperate love for another woman. Because of his love for her, he showered Julian with unconditional, blatant affection. But what about me? Who was I? Who was the woman who had stayed by his side since they were teenagers, weathering every storm with him, only to not even deserve a whisper of acknowledgment? What did I do wrong? Why did he treat me like this? Why did they both treat me like this? I sat there for a long time, even starting to question if I had some fatal flaw as a partner, a wife, or a mother. There was no answer. I heard Stockton calling my name from outside the bathroom. When I opened the door, he turned around and smiled at me. All my emotions—anger, resentment, panic, helplessness, and humiliating exposure—swirled in my chest, threatening to tear me apart. Looking into his clear, innocent eyes, the confrontation was right on the tip of my tongue. Deep down, I knew I should just expose this trash bag of a man and walk away. I shouldn’t waste another second of my life on him. But I was so angry. I had poured so much time, money, and love into this marriage. How could I just quietly slink away like a loser? But if I dragged myself through this mud, what would I gain? Make him leave with nothing? I already had my own money. Make him realize his mistakes and love me? What would I do with his dirty, secondhand love? With that final thought, I walked out of the bathroom and stopped right in front of him. “Let’s get a divorce, Stockton.” The moment those words left my mouth, not only did he freeze, but I did too. I hadn’t expected to say it so easily. From the moment I saw that account until now, a suffocating weight had been crushing my chest. But now, saying “divorce” brought a strange wave of relief alongside the heartbreak. Stockton looked utterly bewildered. He stepped forward to hug me, but I stepped back. He stood there, completely lost. For a second, I was almost impressed by his acting skills. “Caroline, can I at least ask why?” “We’ve been together for fourteen years. We barely ever fight. Our only disagreements are about Julian’s school.” “Is this about Julian’s soccer sign-ups? Do you feel like I didn’t respect your opinion? We can talk about it!” “I will never agree to a divorce, Caroline. We have a child we raised together. We have a happy home.” I let out a mocking laugh. “A child?”

Thinking I was wavering because of Julian, he quickly added: “Yes! We’ve raised Julian for ten years. Ever since we brought him home from the orphanage as a baby, you said it was fate.” Seeing my guard slip slightly, he walked over and wrapped his arms around me, trying to soothe me the way he always did. In his embrace, a memory flashed in my mind. It was when Julian first came to our house. He was only three or four months old, and he wouldn’t sleep at night. Stockton and I took turns holding him, staying up all night. Stockton would hold Julian just like this, patting his back and softly singing lullabies to him. Back then, I thought he was the gentlest man in the world. I felt so incredibly lucky to be his wife. I wondered if he would be even happier if I could give him a biological child. But I couldn’t. Due to some health issues, my chances of getting pregnant were extremely low. For the first four years of our marriage, we never used protection, yet I never got pregnant. I used to feel so guilty and broken over it. But he had comforted me, saying, “It’s okay, Caroline. Having you and Julian is already the greatest blessing of my life.” I didn’t say anything else that night, and Stockton assumed he had successfully calmed me down. But he forgot one thing. I had always said I would never throw the word “divorce” around lightly. But once I said it, I would never look back. The next day, I packed my bags and moved back to my parents’ house, leaving the father and son in our marital home. Stockton didn’t object. He claimed I was just in a bad mood and that spending time with my parents would help clear my head. I played a song on repeat—a sad ballad about being the third wheel in one’s own relationship. I’m just a shadow in your perfect picture, always there but never seen. My finger slipped, and I accidentally shared the song to my public Instagram story. Five minutes later, I saw that Stockton had posted a quote on his private account: Some people aren’t meant to belong to you, but it was still nice meeting them. Ha. I had just provided him with fresh material for his tragic romance. He was really pushing my limits. On the third day of moving back, I sat in my father’s study, sorting through our marital assets. When Stockton married me, he had absolutely nothing. It was my father’s financial backing and professional connections that paved the way for his career to take off. I could accept that he fooled my heart—that was on my own stupidity. But he was not taking my money. When my dad pushed the door open to call me for dinner, Stockton’s voice drifted in. He was downstairs, chatting with my mother about the real estate market. He was always so smooth. He talked about art with my dad, business with my mom, and played the romantic hero with me. When I sat down at the dinner table, Stockton looked over with a warm smile. He mysteriously pulled a designer gift bag from behind his back. “The new seasonal bag. I picked it up for you the moment it hit the store. I also came to take you home.” I kept my head down and ate without saying a word. Sensing the tension, my dad playfully scolded me in front of Stockton for being stubborn. Watching Stockton act as if nothing had happened, I sighed inwardly. My mom asked, “Where’s Julian? Why didn’t he come to dinner?” “I sent him to my mother’s place for the weekend. Caroline and I had a little misunderstanding, so I’m taking her home for some quality couple time.” My mom laughed. “Stockton, you’re always so romantic. When Harrison makes me mad, he just tells me to calm down. He even made me angry yesterday!” Stockton pulled out another gift bag with a smile. “Then it looks like I bought the right gift. The associate said this style suits you perfectly, Mom. See if you like it.” My mom loved receiving gifts, and she was always the best hype-woman. She pulled the bag out, immediately draped it over her shoulder, and asked my dad, “How do I look, Harrison?” “Beautiful, beautiful! Anything Stockton buys looks good on you!” I rested my chin on my hand, watching the three of them. I felt like whatever I said right now would just ruin the perfect family picture. I almost regretted finding that private account. It had shattered a very comfortable illusion. Right then, Stockton’s phone rang. It was a custom ringtone he had set specifically for Julian. My mom hadn’t seen Julian in a while, so she gestured for Stockton to put it on speaker. But as soon as he picked up, Julian’s panicked voice screamed through the speaker: “Dad! Quickly go online! Mom got hurt on set!” Stockton’s smile instantly shattered. My parents froze in their tracks. Aside from me, my dad was the first to snap out of it. He frowned. “Julian has another mom?” Stockton’s face turned white, and he couldn’t speak. Hearing my dad’s voice, Julian realized his mistake, went quiet, and instantly hung up. Stockton had been my dad’s student for half his life. He sat there, stiff as a board, not daring to say a word. My dad turned his sharp gaze to me. “You suddenly moved back. You found out something, didn’t you? If he won’t talk, you tell me.”

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Because I loved my wife so much, I secretly got a vasectomy when our son turned five. But six months later, she looked me in the eye and told me she was pregnant. She even blamed me, saying I was too selfishly focused on my own pleasure and refused to use protection. But how could that baby possibly be mine? There was no doubt about it—my wife was cheating on me. I did some digging in secret, only to find out that the other man was someone incredibly close to us. Talk about not dirtying your own backyard—she literally picked someone right under my nose! “Babe, can you go to the hospital with me tomorrow?” That night, after putting our son to sleep, my wife, Chloe, came back to the living room and sat down next to me on the couch. She looked at me with a slight pout. “My period is late this month. I took a test this morning… it’s a double line.” I froze. I stared at her, completely dumbfounded. I almost thought my ears were playing tricks on me. It wasn’t until she gave me a sharp, annoyed nudge that I snapped out of it. My very first reaction was that it was impossible. “Are you… are you sure the test wasn’t faulty?” “Then how else do you explain my missed period?” She seemed genuinely angry now, glaring at me. “This is all your fault.” “Every single time, you just care about how it feels and refuse to wear a condom. I told you a million times that tracking my cycle isn’t a hundred percent safe!” “Now look what happened.” “Ugh, look at you, acting like nothing happened while I’m the one who has to go through all the pain…” I didn’t say a word. Though my face remained perfectly calm, a massive storm was raging in my chest. I had always thought I had the perfect, happy family. Our son, Leo, was almost six. Both Chloe and I had stable jobs, and neither of us had any bad habits. But the words coming out of her mouth right now instantly shattered every ounce of happiness I thought I possessed. Since we got married, we had never used condoms. Neither of us liked the barrier. In the beginning, she was on birth control pills. But taking those long-term isn’t good for a woman’s body. Six months ago, three days after Leo’s fifth birthday, I secretly went to a clinic and got a vasectomy. I didn’t tell her. It wasn’t that I wanted to lie to her; it was just a stupid male ego thing, I guess. Over the past six months, even though Chloe had stopped taking the pill, I was always careful to only have intimate times during her safe window. So, even though she’d been off the pill for half a year, nothing had happened, and she never suspected a thing. But now, she was telling me she was pregnant? Was this a question of whether her calendar method was safe? This was a flashing, neon-green sign that I was being cuckolded! Honestly, I was furious. Livid, even. But I had been a quiet, reserved guy since I was a kid. Plus, the sheer shock of it triggered a survival instinct to suppress my rage. I kept my face completely blank. More importantly… I wanted to know who the hell this guy was. He slept with my wife, and now I was supposed to take the fall? I had to listen to her nagging and complaining, and tomorrow I was expected to pay for her abortion? They had their fun, and I was the one cleaning up the mess? This was more pathetic than being a literal pushover. This guy had some serious balls, incredible stealth, and apparently, a completely clear conscience. If I didn’t drag this bastard into the light to see who he was, I would never be able to live with myself. “I’m so sorry, babe. It’s my fault. I promise I’ll be more careful in the future. I won’t make you go through this again.” Holding back my raging fury, I apologized to her with the most sincere face I could muster. Seeing her expression soften slightly, I quickly changed the subject. “But I really can’t take time off for the next couple of days.” “The company just landed a massive account. The deadline is crazy tight. No one is allowed to take leave, and we all have to work overtime.” “If I go against management right now, I might lose my end-of-year bonus…” This was a reason she couldn’t argue with. And I knew for a fact that she wouldn’t go to the hospital alone tomorrow. In all likelihood, she would call the actual bastard who was responsible for this mess to go with her…

That night, neither Chloe nor I slept. We tossed and turned, staring at the ceiling. For me, the reason was obvious. What normal man could sleep peacefully after finding out his beloved wife had cheated on him? But as for why Chloe was so restless, that was up for debate. Was she worried about the procedure tomorrow? Or was she missing her secret lover? I gritted my teeth in the dark, vowing to expose the bastard tomorrow. The next morning, I acted completely normal. I even swallowed my disgust to offer Chloe some comforting words before leaving the house. But obviously, I didn’t go to the office. I called in sick and drove straight to a local auto repair shop run by a buddy of mine. I made up some excuse about my car’s engine acting up and asked them to do a quick maintenance check. Then, I borrowed an old, beat-up rental sedan from them and drove right back. I parked the car across the street from my apartment complex. And I waited. Sure enough, around nine o’clock, Chloe’s car pulled out of the driveway. My heart surged. I started the ignition and followed her from a safe distance. After a short drive, Chloe’s car pulled into the parking lot of the community hospital. I parked by the curb nearby, watching her through the windshield. She didn’t head inside immediately. Instead, she stood on the steps near the main entrance, clearly waiting for someone. Was the bastard finally showing up? My heart hammered against my ribs, and my fists clenched instinctively. Less than ten minutes later, a white Audi A4 pulled up. I recognized that car. It belonged to Harper, Chloe’s college best friend. Sure enough, Harper stepped out of the driver’s seat. I felt a sudden wave of disappointment. Chloe was too careful. Even though she thought I was stuck at the office, she still hadn’t called her lover. Instead, she brought her best friend along for moral support. But what puzzled me was that even after Harper arrived, they still didn’t go inside. They stood on the steps, arguing about something. As the minutes ticked by, the argument seemed to escalate. Both Harper and Chloe looked agitated, gesturing wildly with their hands. I watched them from my car for nearly ten minutes. But because I was too far away, I couldn’t hear a word, so I couldn’t figure out what they were fighting about. Just as I was about to look away, another car pulled up to the right of the steps. A middle-aged man stepped out. Since his back was turned to me, I couldn’t see his face at first. But his build looked incredibly familiar. More importantly, as soon as he got out, he walked straight toward Chloe and Harper. Since it was quite windy today, he actually took off his suit jacket and draped it gently over Chloe’s shoulders. Was this him? My breath caught in my throat, and I widened my eyes. The next second, after putting the jacket on her, the man turned around. When I saw his face, my entire body went rigid. My breath stopped completely, as if I had been struck by lightning… How could it be him? Harrison? Last night, as I lay awake in bed, I had run through a dozen suspects. Psychology books say that while men often cheat with strangers, women almost always cheat with people they know. But I never, in my wildest dreams, thought it would be Harrison. He wasn’t just Chloe’s boss at her marketing firm. He was Harper’s older brother. Which meant… Chloe wasn’t just having an office affair. She was spending every single day with her lover under the guise of “working late.” And even worse… did Harper, her absolute best friend, know about this whole thing? Was she helping them hide it?

The realization of the truth made me feel physically sick. It felt like a massive boulder was crushing my chest, suffocating me. The psychological theory was right—she had cheated with someone close. And that fact alone proved that women could be infinitely more ruthless than men. I had only met Harrison a few times, so we weren’t close. But Harper was different. I had known her since Chloe and I first started dating. Over all these years, we had hung out constantly. She was a major part of our lives. Knowing what Chloe had done, how must they have looked at me during our Sunday barbecues? Harrison must have felt so smug, looking down on me. And Harper? She probably looked at me with pity and mockery, laughing at the idiot with the invisible green horns on his head. And there I was, thinking I was the luckiest guy in the world. Turns out, in their eyes, I was just a pathetic, clueless loser. As these thoughts raced through my mind, my anger boiled over. My eyes burned, and my vision blurred with pure rage. Yet, somehow, I forced myself to stay in the car. My naturally quiet temperament gave me a twisted kind of patience. Rushing out there right now would solve nothing. What I saw as “catching them in the act” would be easily explained away by those three. They could make up any excuse. After all, they were just talking in a public parking lot. How could I prove anything? I kept telling myself to stay calm. If I startled them now, I’d lose my chance. Swallowing my rage, I grabbed my phone, zoomed in, and started taking photos. Even though these photos didn’t prove physical infidelity, they were a start. I could build a case, piece by piece, until I had an airtight chain of evidence. And that required time. More than anything, it required me to be cold and calculating. Up on the steps, Chloe seemed to be getting hysterical. The three of them were arguing back and forth, waving their hands in frustration. A few minutes later, Harrison turned and said something to Harper. Harper shook her head, looked annoyed, and walked about thirty feet away, leaving them alone. A private conversation? This was another piece of the puzzle. Even though Harrison was Chloe’s boss, that professional relationship shouldn’t have bypassed Chloe’s lifelong best friend. The fact that Harper had to step aside proved that whatever Chloe and Harrison were discussing, it had nothing to do with work. They had a connection that overrode Chloe’s loyalty to her best friend. I snapped pictures of this moment immediately. Just as I was debating whether to follow them into the clinic, things took an unexpected turn. Chloe yelled something, looking completely furious. Then, she turned on her heel, got back into her car, and sped off, completely ignoring Harper and Harrison. What the hell? Weren’t they here for an abortion? Why did she leave before even stepping foot inside the building? I was baffled. For a second, I didn’t know whether to tail Chloe or stay and watch the siblings. Before I could decide, Harper said a few angry words to Harrison, stomped her foot, got into her Audi, and drove away too. Now, only Harrison was left on the steps. He looked highly stressed. He didn’t leave; instead, he lit a cigarette and leaned against the railing, smoking heavily. This was my chance. My anger flared up again, hotter than ever. Without a second thought, I pushed my car door open and stepped out.

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