Category: English

After years of marriage with no kids, my husband suggested we adopt. Turned out, the kid was a born troublemaker. Not long after the adoption, I got pregnant with my own daughter. When my husband and adopted daughter found out I was pregnant, they gave my belly a creepy look. Later, my daughter and I died in a car accident. When I woke up again, I swore they’d pay! 1. In my past life, my husband, David, and I had been married for years without children. He suggested adopting a child from foster care, and I agreed. The first time I saw Ashley, she was batting those big, watery eyes at me. They seemed so pure and innocent. Looking back, it’s scary how well she could hide herself, especially at such a young age. That day, Ashley pretended to be well-behaved, reaching out her little hand to tug on my sleeve, looking up at me with a pitiful expression. Before I could say anything, David rushed over, blocking my scrutinizing gaze. He smiled and said, “She’s a good kid. Even if we have our own children, she can help take care of her little brother or sister.” Naive me, I believed him. We brought Ashley home that very day. The first night, Ashley “accidentally” broke my perfume bottle. She pouted, looking all sorry for herself. David, drawn by the commotion, rushed upstairs looking worried, checking to see if Ashley was hurt. Then, he looked up, annoyed, and scolded, “It’s just perfume. So it broke. Is perfume more important than our daughter?” I stood there dumbfounded, watching David act out his role as a loving father. In the following days, David changed Ashley’s last name to his. They acted like real father and daughter, and Ashley always seemed to subtly brag about how good David was to her. Then, I got pregnant. Overjoyed, I shared the news with David and Ashley. The smiles on their faces froze. At the time, I didn’t understand why David tensed up, looking grim. We’d been trying for six years for a baby. I expected excitement! Ashley just stopped smiling, giving my belly a strange look. Throughout the pregnancy, I spent most of my time with Ashley. David said he had to travel for work, for about a year. Before leaving, he told me to take care of Ashley. I just thought he wasn’t used to the idea of my daughter yet. Remembering how stupid I was, I wanted to shake my past self awake. Soon, it was time for me to give birth. Ashley “coincidentally” came down with a high fever that day. I, heavily pregnant, kept bending over at her bedside, putting a cool washcloth on her forehead. Ashley was always sickly, getting sick all the time; doctor visits were common. Suddenly, I felt a gush of fluid. I looked down to see that my pants were soaked – my water broke. I carefully moved, trying to get to the phone in the living room to call for help. Ashley then opened her red eyes, with barely concealed hatred in their depths. Seeing my desire to leave, she pinched my arm hard. I gasped. Looking back at her, she gave me a look of feigned helplessness. She whimpered, “Mom, don’t leave me. I’ll be scared if I’m alone.” Saying she was scared, yet wearing a gloating expression on her face. I was in a rush and didn’t notice her expression. I comforted her, then turned and went to call 911. But I didn’t see Ashley lying on the bed, fiercely glaring at my back. David rushed back, bursting through the door in a panic, ignoring my pleas for help, and rushing into Ashley’s room. He scooped her up and rushed her to the hospital. As he left, he glared at me resentfully, not caring that my water had broken and that my baby was in danger if I didn’t get to the hospital soon. 2. Thankfully, the ambulance arrived in time. As I lay in the ambulance, I saw David’s car speed past through the window. My heart turned cold. After my daughter, Lily, was born, I insisted on a divorce. David refused. He and his precious daughter teamed up to trick me. He knelt by the hospital bed, looking all sincere, and said he was sorry, he was just too worried about Ashley and had forgotten about me. I laughed at his shamelessness. I asked him, pointing to my daughter sleeping peacefully beside me, which one was his real daughter? Ashley stepped forward, tearfully saying it was her fault for getting sick, and that Dad was just worried. Seeing that I wasn’t budging, David exploded, cursing me for being petty. My daughter had just been born, and needed her father’s love, he said. I relented again. For my daughter, I put up with it. From then on, David was more restrained, until Ashley deliberately blinded my five-year-old daughter in her right eye. I finally lost it and called the police, but I didn’t expect that they would tamper with my car. I died in a car accident. I can’t imagine what kind of torture my daughter would endure in their hands. Ashley would never allow my daughter to take away David’s love for her. 3. I woke up again before my daughter lost her eye. At the dinner table, I was a little stunned. A tidal wave of hatred swallowed me. I looked up at the familiar house, and at Ashley sitting across from me. I could almost still hear the sound of the car crash, the pain of my organs being crushed. I couldn’t hide my hatred, wanting to stab that little beast to death. She looked at me, pretending to love her “sister,” picking out the fish bones for my daughter, Lily, and putting the fish meat in her bowl. I stopped Lily from taking the fish, putting the fish back. I forced a smile, staring at her. “Lily’s had too much fish today, Ashley, you eat it.” Ashley’s smug expression froze. She blurted out that she didn’t want any. I insisted, picking up the fish and holding it to her mouth. “You were going to give it to Lily anyway, weren’t you?” Seeing that I wouldn’t take no for an answer, Ashley’s face tightened. She forced a smile and said she was full. I wasn’t going to let her get away with it, shoving the fish into her mouth. Smiling sweetly, I looked at her and said, “You’re so silly, I offer you some fish and you refuse. Wasn’t this piece of fish the one you just picked out for Lily?” I emphasized the word “picked out,” watching Ashley’s face turn red as she forced the fish down, a look of pain flashing across her face. She’s a born troublemaker. Unless you poke her, she’ll never feel the pain. Ashley tried to hide the fish bones in the fish meat while pretending to pick fish bones for Lily, knowing she would swallow it and hurt her throat. David came home, carrying his briefcase. Ashley’s eyes lit up. She eagerly ran over to take his briefcase, calling out, “Dad,” in a hoarse voice. David frowned, and instinctively looked at me and blurted out, “Did you force Ashley to eat something again? Didn’t I tell you, Ashley is delicate, she can’t eat unhealthy stuff.” I coldly glanced at him, sat back in my chair, crossed my arms, and said, “Is it wrong for her to eat fish?” David instinctively retorted, “What’s wrong with her voice? If you didn’t make her eat things she shouldn’t, who else would harm her?” Ashley stepped forward, pretending to be concerned, taking David’s arm and standing by his side, speaking up for me. But her voice was even hoarser than before, almost unable to speak. David, frantic, glared at me unhappily. Grabbing Ashley’s hand, he said, “Let’s go to the hospital.” Before leaving, Ashley gave me a meaningful look, following David out. Foiled with harming Lily, she turned it into a sympathy play, making David feel sorry for her and blame me. Such scheming at such a young age. This time, I’d see who had the last laugh. 4. Ashley scratched her throat with a fish bone and bled, and David stubbornly took leave from work to accompany her at the hospital. The next day, I sent Lily to school as usual, and received a call from David on the way. He had the nerve to ask me to bring them food, complaining that the hospital food was too unappetizing. Asking me to deliver it to the hospital in an hour. I laughed out loud. David was still saying it was all my fault for forcing Ashley to eat fish. Saying she was hospitalized, and that I should be there with her instead of him. I said angrily, “You insisted on staying in the hospital, if you’re not there with her, who will be? If you want me to bring you food, you can forget about it, go eat dirt.” With that, I hung up the phone, trembling with anger. How could there be such a shameless person? 5. A week later, Ashley bounced home, with David following behind her. Loaded with bags, unshaven, and with dark circles under his eyes. I curled my lips, eating fresh cherries, one after another, making them swallow their saliva. Ashley, a little greedy, reached out without hesitation to take one. I slapped her hand away, annoyed. “Did I say you could eat them?” Ashley used the same old trick, whining to David. David slumped on the sofa, panting, not even looking at us. Ashley bit her lip, glared at me resentfully, and moved next to David. Grabbing his sleeve, she whined, “Dad, I just got back from the hospital, and Mom won’t even let me eat fruit. Say something!”

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My fiancé, Alex, after six long years climbing the ladder at his company, finally got promoted from a junior position to department supervisor. At the celebratory dinner, Alex proudly held my hand as we went to toast the Vice President who’d championed him. That’s when I realized the VP who’d been mentoring Alex all this time was a client from my old life. The kind of client who could book me for the entire night for a hefty price tag. 1 I got into the life at eighteen and got out at thirty. Ten years – feels like forever and no time at all. By the time I decided to leave that world behind, I’d managed to scrape together enough for a car, a down payment on a small place, and a little bit in savings. Given my line of work, I didn’t exactly broadcast my modest success. I knew all too well how vicious gossip could be. It could haunt families for generations. The last thing I wanted was for my parents back home to be shamed by the neighbors because of me. So, before I officially “retired,” I lined up a backup plan. No, a future. The classic “solid guy.” His name was Alex Thompson. From the same small town as me. Average looking, a little soft around the middle, not particularly tall – the kind of guy who blends into a crowd. But he was the only person from our town who’d gone to a prestigious university and landed a great job in New York City, even managing to buy an apartment there. Sure, it was a tiny studio, maybe 500 square feet, and he only had the down payment covered, but back in our little corner of the world, that was like reaching the moon. More importantly, he’d been living in NYC for six years. One more year, and he’d have residency, really putting down roots. Besides the NYC stability, what really pushed me towards Alex was seeing what happened to my friend Jenny, who’d gotten out six months before me. She’d been around the block too. She thought she had her escape route planned out – becoming the mistress of some older, moderately wealthy guy. He promised her a house in her hometown and a million dollars if she gave him a son, enough to set her up for life. But before the baby was even born, his wife found out. She showed up, attacked Jenny viciously, and Jenny lost the baby. Worse, the damage meant she could never have kids again. She ended up with nothing. All of us girls at the club heard the story, shared sympathetic sighs, and took it as a hard lesson. So, I pulled out all the stops. I charmed Alex completely. Made him believe I was the only woman for him. Even when his parents argued I wasn’t good enough – wrong background, wrong education, and let’s face it, my looks screamed “trouble” – they figured even if we got married, he couldn’t hold onto me. But Alex didn’t waver. Somehow, he convinced his parents to back down. They set the wedding date for Memorial Day weekend this year. And just a few days ago, he got that promotion. His salary doubled, and his position at the company was more secure than ever. I was starting to genuinely look forward to it – escaping my small-town past, settling down in NYC, starting fresh. But then, that celebration dinner threw a wrench into my carefully constructed, seemingly perfect new life. 2 “Chloe, the VP’s over there. Mr. Henderson. I owe him a lot; he’s looked out for me since I started. This promotion is thanks to him too. Let’s go raise a glass.” That evening, at the department dinner celebrating Alex’s promotion, he pulled me, all dressed up, towards his Vice President. I’d agreed to come mostly because we were getting married soon – seemed like the supportive fiancée thing to do. Plus, I wanted to subtly signal to any hopeful young women in Alex’s department that he was taken. Even a “solid guy” like Alex, especially one who just became a supervisor, could attract attention from newcomers looking for a shortcut up the ladder. “Okay,” I said, getting up gracefully and walking beside Alex towards the circle of people surrounding Mr. Henderson. Even before we reached him, I had a nagging feeling I’d seen this VP somewhere before. Having met countless men over the years, I initially dismissed it as mistaken identity, my memory playing tricks. I didn’t dwell on it. But when Alex and I stopped right in front of him, my blood ran cold. Alex’s Vice President. I had seen him before. Not just seen him – I knew him from the club where I used to work. He’d specifically requested me several times. The all-night kind of request. I never, ever imagined I’d run into a former client like this, in this setting. “Mr. Henderson, thank you so much for your support on our department’s projects. I’d like to propose a toast. This is my fiancée, Chloe Miller.” Alex was so focused on showing his respect that he didn’t notice the color drain from my face. Of course, my years of practice in hiding my true feelings helped immensely. “Alex, my boy, you’re a lucky man. Such a beautiful fiancée,” Mr. Henderson said, his eyes sweeping over me with perfect corporate politeness before landing on the standard compliment. Not a trace of anything inappropriate. The last time I’d dealt with Henderson must have been about a year ago. Back then, I wore the heavy, uniform makeup favored by the club. Maybe he didn’t remember me, or maybe he just didn’t recognize me without the war paint. If he did recognize me, knowing his usual sleazy nature, he wouldn’t be acting this professionally. I tried to reassure myself silently. Focus. Act natural. “You’re too kind, Mr. Henderson. We’d both like to toast you,” Alex suggested respectfully. “Excellent,” Henderson beamed, agreeing readily and clinking glasses. He clinked Alex’s glass, then mine. And in that brief moment, the way his eyes lingered just a fraction too long, the slight pressure as his glass touched mine – I knew. He recognized me. And he already had ideas. 3 “Chloe, what’s wrong? You look pale. Are you feeling okay?” As soon as we were out of Henderson’s direct line of sight, Alex noticed something was off. “No, I’m fine. Just not used to drinking, I guess. I need to use the restroom.” I practically fled. Once inside the ladies’ room, I leaned against the cool tile, forcing myself to breathe, to think. Look, people in my old line of work, even though it’s not something you advertise, generally follow an unwritten code. Outside the club, once the transaction is over, you’re strangers. That goes for us and the clients. It’s an understanding. But Henderson… the reason he made me so nervous, so thrown off, wasn’t just because he was a regular. He was infamous among the girls. The kind of client everyone dreaded. Cheap, demanding, always trying to push boundaries. Always trying to get the most while paying the least. He’d even complain afterwards, trying to get discounts. But we couldn’t refuse clients. And he used to request me specifically. A lot. To save money, he’d tried more than once to bypass the club, suggesting private arrangements. I always shut him down flat. I knew he held a grudge, always looking for a chance to cause trouble for me. It’s just that I’d suddenly disappeared from the scene, gotten out, so he never got the chance. Now, meeting like this, him recognizing me immediately… he wouldn’t let this go easily. Worse, he saw me with Alex. Someone as conniving as him would instantly figure out what I was after with Alex. Alex wasn’t rich, not by NYC standards, and maybe not irreplaceable in the grand scheme of things. But he was the best, most stable option I could realistically find. Plus, he genuinely seemed to love me. We’d been together almost a year, and he happily supported me. Even though my “job” at my boutique barely paid the bills and had flexible hours (meaning I rarely had to go in early or stay late), he never complained. He’d bring me breakfast before he left for work, order lunch delivery for me, come home with groceries and cook dinner. He even did the dishes. Never asked me to lift a finger around the house. A whole year, day in and day out, without a single complaint. He was the definition of a solid, dependable guy. On top of that, Alex was an only child. His parents ran a small business back home, enough to support themselves in retirement. They could even help with childcare when we eventually had kids. Alex and his family represented a future I couldn’t afford to lose. It felt like my one and only chance. So, I absolutely could not let Alex find out about my past. I couldn’t let Henderson scare him away. 4 “Honey, my friend back in Chicago, she’s going through a rough patch with her boyfriend. She’s really down and asked if I could come visit for a few days. My boutique… could you maybe check on it while I’m gone? You don’t have to stress about it, the two girls working there are pretty reliable. I’m just worried something unexpected might pop up and they wouldn’t know how to handle it.” After agonizing over it, I caved. I agreed to meet Henderson privately. I knew exactly what that meeting implied. But for the sake of my future, my carefully planned happiness, I felt I had no choice. To avoid suspicion from Alex, I used my friend in another city as an excuse. “Chicago? For how long? Do you have enough money? Let me Venmo you a thousand, just in case. If you need more, just tell me, I get paid again soon.” Alex, bless his trusting heart, was the same as always. Believed whatever I said, never questioned, just did his best to make sure I was taken care of. Before I could even refuse, the notification popped up on my phone. “$1000 received from Alex Thompson.” “No, honey, really. Business at the shop has been okay lately, I have enough. Besides, payday is still two weeks away for you. Keep your money.” A pang of guilt hit me. I genuinely didn’t want his money this time. Besides, I wasn’t broke. Aside from my secret savings, I had the boutique. Right here in NYC. Okay, working nights wasn’t glamorous, but the kind of men who frequented those places often had serious money. I knew my looks wouldn’t last forever, so while I was still “in demand,” I’d deliberately cultivated relationships with a few successful businessmen. Picked their brains about how things worked. One guy, a clothing wholesaler, went from client to business contact. Online shopping hit my little brick-and-mortar store hard. It wasn’t making me rich, but it paid the bills. Just enough to survive. Which, conveniently, fit perfectly with the backstory I’d crafted for myself – ten years working dead-end retail jobs back home. Nobody in our hometown suspected a thing. “Baby, your money is your money. Keep it for yourself. My money is for taking care of you.” Alex refused when I tried to send it back. “Don’t worry about me. I don’t smoke, I eat at the company cafeteria for lunch and dinner. I just need a few bucks for the subway. You go have fun with your friend. And hey, if she wants to come here to clear her head, just let me know ahead of time, I can crash at the office or find somewhere else to stay.” He’d thought of everything, anticipated potential issues, and had solutions ready. So considerate. “Alex…” Moved by his simple, steady kindness – a stark contrast to the world I came from – I wrapped my arms around him. “Don’t get emotional over little things, Chloe,” he said softly, patting my back. “This is just what you do for someone you love. And I promise, I’m going to work even harder, make more money, so I can provide for you and our future kids. As long as I’m around, you won’t have to worry about a thing.” He spoke with such sincerity. No flowery promises, but it meant more than any fancy words could. “Okay,” I nodded, burying my face in his shoulder. At that moment, whatever my initial reasons, I truly wanted this life with Alex. I would find a way to deal with Henderson, to remove any obstacle standing between us. 5 “Mr. Henderson. Long time no see. Hope you’re well.” Arriving at the hotel room he’d specified, I switched on my old professional persona. Bright smile, warm greeting, perfectly poised, just like back at the club. Even though looking at him made my stomach turn. “Chloe, my dear. It has been too long. I’ve missed you terribly.” Before the words were fully out of my mouth, Henderson lunged towards me, grabbing, just like he used to at the club – pay the money, then immediately try to get his hands on you, afraid of missing a second of what he paid for. Except this time, as he clearly intended, it was supposed to be free. Too bad for him. I was out of the life. And I’d found a man who treated me right. I was determined to be better now. I sidestepped him smoothly, almost instinctively. Besides wanting to protect myself and my future with Alex, I knew that if I let Henderson get what he wanted today, he’d be like gum stuck to my shoe. Impossible to get rid of, ever. “Chloe, what’s this? Think just because you snagged some up-and-comer, you can forget what you are?” Predictably, Henderson’s face changed instantly. The mask dropped, replaced by a sneer. The insults started. “Mr. Henderson, it’s good to see you again,” I began, keeping my smile fixed, professional. “But as you noted, I haven’t worked in that capacity for a long time now. And if I recall correctly, our past interactions were always strictly business. Settled upon completion.” Maintaining composure was rule number one from day one in that business. Besides, my goal today was to solve a problem, not start a fight. “You’re not working, yet you came. So, you have something you want to discuss.” Henderson hadn’t gotten to his position at a Fortune 500 company just by being cheap. He wasn’t stupid. “Mr. Henderson, you have a beautiful family, a successful career. You can afford any companion you desire at those clubs. Surely, you don’t need to waste your time on me. Of course,” I lowered my voice slightly, adopting the deferential tone he clearly craved, “if I somehow offended you in the past, please, tell me now. I sincerely apologize for any past indiscretion on my part. I was young and foolish. I’d like to make amends.” I practically bowed, trying to give him the sense of power he seemed to need. “But right now, Chloe,” he said, eyes glinting with amusement, “I want you.” He looked at me like I was a trapped animal, enjoying my futile struggles. “Mr. Henderson, why risk complications? Why risk upsetting your home life over someone insignificant like me? Surely, this is something money can resolve. No need for unnecessary drama.” I hinted, not too subtly, at buying his silence. “Ah, Chloe. Do you know why, out of all the girls at the club, I always preferred you? Besides that pretty face, you were always the smartest one. But intelligence used wrongly is useless.” “You think my wife,” he scoffed, “is the kind of woman who’d cause a scene over some girl from a club? You think she doesn’t know men have their… diversions? If she couldn’t handle that, she wouldn’t have lasted this long as Mrs. Henderson.” He saw right through my veiled threat about his wife, and he didn’t care. He looked smug, as if he’d anticipated my every move. “But you, Chloe, you’re different. No, wait. Alex is different. Alex is a decent guy, building his life through hard work. A man like that, a successful, driven man? He could never tolerate his wife being… well, being someone like you. Someone available to any man with the right amount of cash.” “If I remember correctly, Alex just bought property in the city. Another year, and he’s fully established. Marry him, and you’re set for life. NYC residency, financial security.” “But,” he leaned in slightly, “if Alex breaks up with you now? You get nothing. You won’t find another guy like him. You’ll end up back looking for sugar daddies, or marrying someone old enough to be your father.” He had it all mapped out, my potential futures laid bare. In his eyes, I was a cornered fox, no match for his cunning. Completely at his mercy. “What do you want?” I finally asked, my voice tight. My options were dwindling fast. Besides, Henderson was right. Society judges women far more harshly than men for the same behavior. A man’s indiscretions are often forgiven. A woman’s past? It can destroy her. “Simple,” he purred, leaning back, confident. “You just be a good girl. Be available when I call. Be as… accommodating… as you were back at the club. Do that, and I guarantee, Alex will never know your little secret. Everything you want from him, you’ll get.” The disgusting pig. He wanted a mistress without paying the price. “I… I need to think about this, Mr. Henderson,” I stammered. Even though it felt like there was only one path left, I couldn’t bring myself to agree immediately. “Fine,” he smirked, clearly sensing victory. “After all, you’re a respectable lady now. Besides your fiancé, I’ll be your only other man.” His tone dripped with smug satisfaction. “But don’t take too long deciding, Chloe. Otherwise, Alex might receive some… interesting information. And then, poof! All your carefully laid plans go up in smoke.”

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I suspected my husband was cheating. The first inkling came from that weird text message. Ding— “Who’s texting you this late?” I quickly rinsed my hands under the faucet, wiped them absently on my apron, and peeked my head out from the kitchen. “It’s Leo,” Jack said, a flash of nervousness crossing his face. He held up his phone as if showing me, explaining, “He’s fighting with his girlfriend again, wanted some advice.” Before I could get a clear look, he snatched the phone back. Maybe it was just basic marital trust, but I didn’t question him then. I pulled my head back into the kitchen, brought out two steaming plates of food that actually looked pretty good, and joked, “If he’s really taking advice from you, he’ll probably be single forever.” “Hey, are you doubting your husband’s skills?” “Stop it,” I laughed, pushing his arm away as he tried to hug me – I’m ticklish. “You smell like cooking oil. Go wash up, dinner’s ready.” Right as we were eating, his phone rang again. Jack answered, then hung up looking apologetic. “Leo and his girlfriend are really going at it. He wants me to go over and mediate.” “Okay, let me come with you,” I said immediately, putting down my chopsticks, ready to get up. “No, it’s okay,” he said quickly. “You know Leo, he gets embarrassed easily. Too many people will just make it worse. I’ll be back later, don’t wait up.” “Just try to smooth things over, okay? Don’t go giving him any crazy ideas,” I reminded him, still feeling a little uneasy. It was already seven PM. Watching him practically jog to the car, I still felt worried, so I called Leo myself. When he picked up, it sounded noisy in the background, definitely not like he was at home. Even then, it didn’t fully click that something was wrong. I started right in, “Look, girls get moody sometimes, just be sweet to her, okay? And whatever you do, don’t listen to any dumb advice Jack gives you.” “Uh, Sarah? What are you talking about?” Leo sounded completely lost. “Aren’t you fighting with your girlfriend? Jack’s already on his way over. Seriously, don’t let him mess things up.” “Oh! Right… yeah, we had a fight. Don’t worry, Sarah, I got this.” After hanging up, a seed of doubt started to grow. Maybe it’s true what they say about a woman’s intuition, especially when it comes to men and relationships. Like a detective, you find one tiny clue, and you can’t stop until you’ve uncovered the whole truth. The next day, I was about to toss Jack’s dirty shirt into the laundry when I hesitated. Maybe it was Leo’s obviously fake phone call playing on my mind. On impulse, I lifted the shirt to my nose. A heavy, sickeningly sweet perfume clung to it. Coco Mademoiselle. I only ever wear cool, crisp scents, maybe something woody. I’d never buy a perfume that sweet. For the smell to be that strong, lingering like that… it meant being close to someone for a long time. Very close. My fingers tightened on the fabric. Doubt had been there, simmering, but I hadn’t wanted to believe the worst. “Hey, can I use your phone? Mine’s dead,” I asked, sitting on the couch. I’d seen in the reflection of his glasses that he was looking at photos. Jack tensed up, fumbling for a second before handing it over. The home screen was clean, no weird apps. His contacts list only had friends and family we both knew, barely any business contacts. The text messages were empty. I tapped on WhatsApp. A password prompt appeared. Habitually, I typed in my birthday. Password incorrect. Again. Incorrect. My eyes started to sting. Just as I was about to give the phone back, defeated, a notification popped up at the top of the screen: “I miss you. Come keep me company.” The words flashed and disappeared. 2. A dull ache started in my chest, but I forced myself to act casual, handing the phone back as if I hadn’t seen a thing. Sure enough, Jack glanced at the screen, saw the message, and shot a guilty look my way. Seeing my blank expression, he visibly relaxed. We only got together after he broke up with his college girlfriend. He started dating me, supposedly, to get over her. I fell for him back then because he seemed so devoted. Even though his ex treated him like her personal ATM, he never complained and always kept a respectful distance from other women. The guy who seemed so loyal back then… I couldn’t quite believe he’d cheat on me now. Even if he didn’t love me, the evidence was piling up, and I couldn’t just ignore it. Over the next few days, I watched him constantly. He’d stare at his phone, smiling stupidly to himself, then quickly hide it with a guarded look if I walked nearby. Sometimes, I’d wake up in the middle of the night and faintly hear him whispering on the phone. I didn’t have concrete proof, but all the signs pointed to it: the man I’d poured all my tenderness into, trying to heal his past hurts, was cheating on me. Still, I felt a bitter resentment. Resentment that the marriage I’d worked so hard to maintain could be wrecked by some homewrecker. Resentment that the man I’d painstakingly helped put back together was about to be snatched up by someone else who hadn’t done any of the work. That evening, Jack came home looking apologetic. “Honey, I’m so sorry. Something came up at work, they just told me I have to go on a business trip for a week.” Tomorrow was our first wedding anniversary. I’d been planning for it for ages. “Can’t it wait until the day after tomorrow?” I dug my nails into my palms, fighting to keep my voice steady, not wanting to arouse suspicion. Jack’s parents built their company from the ground up. He rarely had to travel for work. This sudden trip felt highly suspicious. “You know how it is with the company,” he said, trying to sound reasonable. “It’s feast or famine. When things are slow, they’re slow, but when something urgent comes up, you can’t delay it.” “I was just kidding,” I forced a smile, my heart feeling like a block of ice. “Work’s important. I’ll help you pack later.” “Okay,” he said, planting a quick kiss on my cheek before heading cheerfully to the bathroom. “Wait for me.” Ding— His phone chimed with a WhatsApp notification. I glanced towards the bathroom – he was still showering. I quickly grabbed the phone. Tilting it towards the light, I could see faint smudges on the screen over certain numbers on the keypad, marks from being pressed repeatedly. After a few tries, the WhatsApp password unlocked. Pinned to the top was a chat labeled “Wendy (Mentee).” I opened it. The latest message was from her: Boss, I booked the hotel. What do you think? Pretty nice, right? Below it were pictures of different themed ‘fantasy’ suites and rooms with big, round beds. My mind went blank. My chest felt tight, like someone was squeezing my heart. I heard movement from the bathroom – Jack was getting out. I quickly closed the chat, marked the message as unread, and put the phone back exactly where it was. Jack came out, walking quickly, looking flustered. When he saw the phone untouched in its usual spot, he let out a small, almost imperceptible sigh of relief. Thinking about that message felt like swallowing fish bones – stuck in my throat. I watched him pick up the phone, his eyes glued to the screen. A mess of conflicting emotions churned inside me. I deliberately walked closer. He stiffened, instantly defensive, snapped the phone shut, and stood up. “Uh, work emergency. I need to make a call on the balcony. Honey, why don’t you go take your shower?” I stared at his back. In the reflection on the window, I could clearly see the soft, adoring smile on his face as he talked. A smile I’d never seen directed at me. My heart clenched painfully again. Just as he was about to hang up, I finally went into the bathroom. I turned on the shower, letting the hot water and the noise cover the sound of my tears. It felt like I could hide the fact I was crying if the water washed them away. Maintaining this relationship had taken almost everything I had. Right now, I just felt incredibly tired. When I came out, he was fiddling with his phone, completely preoccupied. He didn’t even notice my red, swollen eyes. “Can you really not love me?” I forced my lips into a smile, trying to sound casual. Maybe deep down, there was still a sliver of hope I wasn’t even aware of. He probably didn’t even hear me properly. He just wrapped his arm around my waist, pulled me onto the bed, and said eagerly, “I’m leaving tomorrow. You need to give me a proper send-off tonight.” To avoid making him suspicious, I didn’t push him away. Maybe he was all fired up from talking to her. He was rougher than usual tonight, almost frantic. I swallowed down the nausea rising in my throat and just let him finish, tears silently sliding down my cheeks onto the pillow. Afterward, I immediately rolled over, facing away from him, pretending to be exhausted and asleep. Sure enough, a few minutes later, Jack carefully slipped out of bed, clutching his phone, and tiptoed back out to the balcony to make another call

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Ten years into our marriage, I got into a car accident on the way to yet another prenatal appointment my husband had forgotten. As I lay bleeding, I called him for help, but he just brushed me off, annoyed: “If you’re not dead, go to the hospital. I’m busy.” The next second, I saw my husband, sitting in the passenger seat of the car that hit me, hang up my call. He turned to the woman in his arms, his voice full of tenderness, and said to his young secretary: “Don’t worry, I’m here.” He calmly left the scene with her, leaving me alone in a pool of blood. In that moment, it finally hit me. My marriage had been crumbling for a long time. Ten years of love had turned into nothing. 1. The doctor handed me the miscarriage papers, sighing softly. “Ms. Thompson, you just had a miscarriage. You need to rest.” Then, he looked at me with a hint of discomfort. “We contacted Mr. Davis, but he said…” The doctor avoided my eyes, his voice barely above a whisper: “He said, ‘If she’s not dead, tell her to get back here and make dinner.’” I took the papers, smiling through my tears as I stroked the image of my baby. Just hours before, I’d been dreaming about the day my child would call me “Mom.” Now, I’d never get to hold my little one. As soon as I walked through the door, Mark greeted me with an angry glare. “Did you tell the hospital to call me?” I didn’t say anything, just sat down wearily on the couch. Seeing my silence, Mark frowned. “Sarah, do you know how busy I am?” “Lily’s puppy needs to be neutered tomorrow, and the vet still hasn’t confirmed the appointment. Do you know how stressed I am? Can’t you be more mature and stop bothering me?” I looked at Mark’s anxious expression and then down at the scrapes on my knees. Apparently, my life and my baby’s were worth less than Lily’s dog. Mark kept complaining, each word like a knife stabbing into my heart. Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Mark,” I said. “Do you know that I almost died in the hospital just now?” He looked annoyed at my interruption, his eyes shifting to my flat stomach, his tone dismissive. “You weren’t even showing. A little fender-bender isn’t going to kill you.” I stared at Mark, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. He didn’t even know how far along I was. What he thought was “not showing” was actually the aftermath of losing our baby. Mark was about to say something else, but he caught sight of the cuts on my wrist and instinctively grabbed my hand. “What happened to your hand?” I used to cherish my hands. Mark always complimented them. But then, he decided he wanted to start his own business, and I started working five jobs to support him. My trendy hair color faded, and my makeup just collected dust on the vanity. I transformed from a young woman into a worn-out housewife. My hands went from delicate to rough and calloused. When Mark landed his first big order, he held my hands against his chest, tears streaming down his face. “Sarah,” he choked out, “I’ll never let you suffer again. I’ll take care of you and make your hands beautiful again.” His passionate words had burned away my last doubts. I followed him without regrets, but it had all led to this. I was about to speak when his phone rang. Seeing the caller ID, Mark quickly dropped my hand. His worried expression vanished, replaced by pure adoration. My heart twisted as I watched the love in his eyes. There was a time when Mark used to look at me that way, whispering sweet nothings on the phone. But now, he made no attempt to hide his affection for someone else. Tears welled up as I stared at him. In that moment, I understood that my marriage wasn’t just crumbling. Mark was rotting from the inside out. “Mark, let’s get a divorce.” 2. Mark blinked, then scoffed. “Sarah, are you kidding me? Is this some new tactic you’re trying? Divorce? You can’t leave me.” He laughed, a sound that mocked the ten years of my youth. I ignored him and texted my lawyer, urging him to hurry. Mark narrowed his eyes. “Alright, quit moping around. You’ll scare Lily. She’s leaving on a business trip tomorrow. Don’t make it difficult for her.” I looked at Mark and felt a chill. I’d never been unkind to Lily. Even after I found out about the affair, I tried to salvage what I could of our marriage. But now, they’d put me through hell, taken my baby, and I was being accused of being difficult. Seeing my silence, Mark added: “Where’s my medicine?” I glanced toward the kitchen. “It’s in there. Get it yourself.” A flicker of surprise crossed Mark’s face. I used to brew his herbal medicine with my own hands. He wouldn’t drink it unless I pleaded with him for hours. He frowned, his tone accusing. “What’s with the attitude? I just didn’t pick you up from the hospital. Do you have to be so dramatic?” I ignored his anger, focusing on the bloodstained ring on my finger, caressing it as if it were my love from ten years ago. I remembered a broke Mark buying me this ring and the shy look on his face. I almost laughed. Before I could say anything, the doorbell rang. Mark’s face lit up as he saw who was calling, quickly pushing me aside. All trace of worry had vanished, replaced by tender affection. It was Lily. She leaned against the doorframe in a revealing lace nightgown, looking innocent and helpless. “Honey, I forgot my keys. Can I crash at your place tonight?” Before I could answer, Mark pulled her into his arms. “You’re not dressed warmly enough. I’d hate for you to get sick.” Lily snuggled into Mark’s embrace, giving me a triumphant look. I found their display tiresome. I hated repeating myself. But I’d been brewing Mark’s medicine for seven years. Mark said he wanted to spend his life with only me. But he was now entertaining a different woman inside of our marriage. 3. Lily snuggled closer to Mark. “Honey, I can only sleep in the master bedroom. Can I sleep there tonight?” Mark looked at me. “Sarah, can you clear out the master bedroom? Lily has a business trip tomorrow and needs to get some rest.” I stared at the bed in our master bedroom. The first time Mark brought me here, I was worried my clothes would get the sheets dirty. I stood awkwardly, afraid to sit. But Mark had pulled me down onto the bed and held me close. He said: “Sarah, this is our home now. I’ll protect you from the storm.” Now, he was asking me to empty our room so he and another woman could nest. I walked into the bedroom and started packing away the remnants of our love. But when I saw the small crib, I burst into tears. Mark and I had picked it out during our first year together. He said that our baby’s things deserved to be the best. But now, everything was different. My baby was gone, and the crib was useless. I gathered the love letters and baby clothes, and threw them into a box. When I tried to collect the gifts Mark had given me, I realized that the letters were all he’d ever given me. I looked at the letters and laughed bitterly. My decade of dedication had bought me a few pieces of paper. I removed our framed wedding photo, and threw the letters and clothes into the trash. “What are you doing?” Mark’s voice came from behind me. He rushed over and pulled the things out of the trash, looking panicked. “Why are you throwing away my love letters? And this baby outfit! You loved this outfit!” He looked at me with the same anxious expression I’d seen when he’d held out my engagement ring and asked, “Can I have a chance to take care of you?” I’d cried and said, “Yes.” Now, I smiled and told him, “Lily won’t like them. And besides… ” I looked at the baby outfit. “Our baby won’t be able to wear it anyway.” Mark looked down. He ran his fingers over the yellowed envelope, just as I ran my fingers over the bloodstained ring. After a long pause, Mark released it. The letters and clothes fell back into the trash. He whispered, “Alright. It’s not like the love letters are worth anything. And the baby is small. The outfit is too big. We’ll buy a new one when she gets here.” I touched my stomach, the only place our baby had ever existed. Yeah, the ten-year-old love letters weren’t worth anything. Just like Mark’s love. 4. After I finished packing, Lily turned to Mark, eyes red. “Honey, I’m hungry. You said Sarah makes the best sweet and sour pork chops. Can I have some tonight?” Mark playfully stroked her nose and gave me a cold look. “Make Lily some sweet and sour pork chops. Quickly.” I quietly picked up my suitcase. “I’m not feeling well. I can’t.” Mark stared at me, shocked. It was the first time I’d refused him. He glared, “Sarah, what are you thinking? I just want you to make dinner for Lily. I’m not trying to divorce you. Can you not be so jealous? You’re going to be a mother soon. Can’t you be a little more generous?” He sounded like I was a violent criminal. The word “jealous” justified his relationship with Lily, crushing the promises Mark had made to me in our youth. He’d sat on the football field, love sparkling in his eyes. When he’d confessed, I joked: “I have standards. If you ever like another woman, I’ll hate you.” Mark nervously clutched the roses and said, “If I ever like someone else, punish me by never seeing me again.” Sometimes, I wondered if I’d imagined Mark loving me, or if he’d forgotten loving me. But it didn’t matter anymore. I calmly said, “Mark, let’s get a divorce.” Mark looked dismissive. “Still playing games? This isn’t how a mother should act. ” Anyone could say I was a bad mother, but not Mark. I stared at him, tears burning my eyes. “Do you think you’re a good father? If I knew it would come to this, I wish I’d never met you!” Mark paused, looking confused. Then, he frowned. “Why are you so angry? Anyone would think you had a miscarriage. How can you be a good mother acting like this?” An icy chill ran through me. My heart felt like it was trapped in ice. Mark’s coldness made me seem like a crazy person. Lily was giggling behind him. I knew that the marriage that had imprisoned me for ten years had come to an end. I smiled at Mark, the same smile I’d had when we first met. “You’re right, Mark.” Next, there was a loud thud. I slammed the miscarriage papers down on the table.

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It was on our fifth wedding anniversary that my husband, Hank, handed me divorce papers. “My mom’s really sick, like, not long for this world. Her dying wish is for me to divorce you,” he mumbled, avoiding my eyes. “I promise it’s just a temporary thing. As soon as she’s gone, we’ll get remarried, I swear,” he added, pleadingly. Looking at Hank’s haggard face, I caved and agreed. I was such a fool. Barely divorced, and Hank’s already plastered wedding photos with his high school sweetheart all over Facebook! And his supposedly terminally ill mom? Standing right there in the pics, looking healthier than ever! 1 “Sarah, when did you and Hank split up?” My best friend, Chloe, frowned, her eyes filled with concern. “Such a big deal, and you didn’t even tell me?” I was utterly confused, bordering on disbelief. Hank and I were supposed to be faking the divorce, keeping it under wraps. How did Chloe find out? “Where did you hear that?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. Chloe’s eyes widened, her voice rising in disbelief. “Hank posted his marriage certificate with someone else all over Facebook! Where have you been?” She kept talking, but my brain just short-circuited. “Hank and a marriage certificate” kept echoing in my head, blocking out everything else. This couldn’t be happening. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. My voice trembled as I asked, “You’re kidding, right?” Hank and I had a good marriage, at least, I thought we did. The devastated look on his face when he suggested the fake divorce, every expression, every detail was burned into my memory. How could he suddenly be marrying someone else? But Chloe’s reply hit me like a ton of bricks, shattering the last vestiges of hope. “I’m not kidding, Sarah. It’s real!” Panic surged through me. I fumbled for my phone, my fingers shaking as I frantically tried to call Hank. But all I got was that cold, robotic voice: “The person you are trying to reach is currently on another call.” I frantically pulled up our text history, and realized it had been ages since he’d replied. The chat box was filled with messages I’d sent – little updates about my day, sweet nothings – now they just seemed like a cruel joke. Refusing to give up, I opened Facebook, only to find he’d blocked me. Chloe sent me the photo. My hands trembled as I tapped to open it. The woman in the picture was Tiffany, Hank’s high school sweetheart. I remembered seeing her at our wedding. Dressed to the nines, she looked more like the bride than I did, standing next to Hank, radiating confidence. I’d asked Hank if he still had feelings for Tiffany. He’d denied it flatly, a staunch and immediate no. But now, seeing them together in the photo, beaming with happiness, with that bright, celebratory backdrop… it felt like a knife twisting in my gut. Tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision. “Hank, say something!” “You wouldn’t do this, right? They’re lying, aren’t they? You didn’t marry someone else, did you?” But my messages vanished into the digital void, unanswered. I was completely devastated. I stumbled to the hospital, only to find that Hank’s mom had never even been admitted. When Hank told me she was sick, he’d choked up several times, struggling to get the words out. He’d lost weight in those few days, and it was heartbreaking to watch. Was it all an elaborate lie, a carefully crafted scheme? If he had a change of heart, couldn’t he have just told me? I wasn’t going to chain him to me. I desperately needed to talk to Hank, to get some answers. But it hit me then. Apart from the time his mom stayed with us, I didn’t even know where he lived. Desperate, I went to his office. His colleagues told me he was on leave, prepping for his wedding. When Hank and I planned our wedding, I’d handled everything – buying the house, the renovations, picking the dress, setting up the venue. Hank said he was too busy at work to take time off. Looking back, it wasn’t about being busy. It was about me not being important enough for him to take time off work. The more something remains unanswered, the more driven you are to find the truth. I requested a leave of absence from work and went on a frantic search for Hank. I looked everywhere I could think of, everywhere he might be, but he was nowhere to be found. Finally, Chloe told me the date of Hank’s wedding. And so, after our sham divorce, I saw Hank for the first time. At his wedding. To someone else. I stood in the back, watching Hank slip a diamond ring on Tiffany’s finger. His smile was brighter than the sun, but it felt like a slap in the face. His mom, the one who’d been practically on her deathbed, was standing next to him, looking spry and joyful. She looked nothing like the woman who always looked at me with disdain! “Hank!” My voice was raspy and trembling with anger and hurt. My shout must’ve startled him because Hank froze and slowly turned around. His smile vanished the moment he saw me, replaced by a look of panic and embarrassment. His mom saw what was happening and hurried over, pushing me, saying, “Everyone, carry on, let’s not ruin the happy occasion.” I dodged her hands, my eyes locked on Hank. Tears were already welling up. “What is going on? You said it was a temporary divorce! You said your mom was dying and wanted to see you happy!” With each word, I took a step closer to Hank. Each step added to my pain. I was a mess. The Hank in the tailored suit looked as handsome as the day I met him. But in that moment, he felt like a complete stranger. Time flies. But what hurts most is that he was no longer the man who was head over heels for me. Chloe shielded me from the curious, gossiping crowd, finally clearing a path to Hank. “Sarah, can we talk about this after the wedding? Please?” Hank’s voice was urgent, his eyes darting around. “It’s not what you think. I can explain.” I looked at him, my heart heavy with bitterness and anger. I laughed, a cold, humorless sound. “Hank, are you just trying to get me out of here so you can keep up the charade?” We stood there, locked in place, the air thick with tension. Then Tiffany walked over and linked her arm through Hank’s, the smugness of a victor etched on her face. “Sarah, before you start interrogating Hank, maybe you should look in the mirror,” she said. “He was married to you for five years, and you couldn’t give him a child. My son with him is already five years old.” “What?” I felt like I’d been struck by lightning, my body frozen, my mind blank. Chloe lost it, exploding in rage. “You two are scum! You were cheating five years ago, Hank! You even had a kid with her! You’ve been faking it all this time, marrying our Sarah. What kind of a sick game is this? You son of a bitch!” Hank and I had been together since college. After graduation, I gave up everything in my hometown and moved to his city so we could be together. In the beginning, he was perfect. He took care of the house, and he was so sweet and thoughtful. But over time, things changed. He grew distant, saying our love had turned into a comfortable companionship, and we didn’t need to try as hard anymore. Like an idiot, I believed him. I actually thought love could just naturally evolve into a companionship. Now I realized he’d given his love to someone else. All I got was a lame excuse for a relationship. “Hank, is it true?” A chill ran through me. My need for answers dissipated. He looked down, hesitating before muttering, “Yeah.” “Okay, I understand.” My heart shattered into a million pieces. Turning to Chloe, I said, “Chloe, let’s go.” At this point, the only thing I could do was salvage what was left of my pride. But Hank actually left Tiffany and chased after me, grabbing my arm. “Sarah, I have a reason, don’t be mad.” “I’ll explain after the wedding,” he said desperately. “What’s there to explain!” Chloe shoved Hank’s hand away, pulling me with her. She ranted about Hank the whole way, trying to make me feel better. But I didn’t want to hear anything. When we pulled up to her place, I stopped her mid-sentence, “Chloe, go home. I’ll pack my things and come over later.” “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” She looked at me, concerned. I managed a smile, trying to reassure her. “I’m fine, don’t worry.” We’d had some good times. Sarah could move on. And now that the temporary divorce had become a real one, there were things I couldn’t let go of. Things that were mine. I needed to get them back. The house I lived in was bought before we were married, and it was mine and mine alone. I decided to sell the house and use the money to go home and be with my parents. When the real estate agent brought someone to view the house, Hank showed up unannounced. He saw the man in the house and started yelling. “Sarah, we’re only temporarily divorced. How can you bring another man into our house?” I couldn’t be bothered to deal with him. I arranged for the real estate agent to come back another day and politely saw him out. But Hank wouldn’t let it go. He blocked the doorway. “We need to get this straight, or nobody’s going anywhere.” When we were dating, I’d only seen the good in him. His flaws were quirky and endearing. Now, without the rose-colored glasses, I realized how awful he was. “We’re divorced. You have no say in my life.” I pushed past him, apologizing to the agent before seeing him out. When I went back inside, Hank was still standing in the entryway, fuming. “Sarah, we agreed it was just a temporary divorce!” I stared at him like he was crazy. “Did you forget you got married again?” “I had my reasons, and Tiffany and I’s wedding was a sham, too. The kid was an accident, I don’t know how it happened.” “My mom found out about the kid and said she was on her deathbed and wanted to spend some time with her grandchild.” Hank spouted excuse after excuse, acting like it was my fault for not understanding. But his excuses meant nothing to me. I didn’t want to hear them. And, from what I saw at the wedding, his mom was doing just fine. “Hank, since the temporary divorce is a real divorce now, we need to divide up the property. I’ve hired a lawyer.” “As for this house, it was mine to begin with. I’m selling it, and you can’t come here anymore.”

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The day I was supposed to be celebrating my wedding, my husband went bust playing cards, losing almost all the money we’d saved for our future. Instead of a sweet wedding night, he was outside the bedroom door, practically begging for forgiveness. So, here I was, alone in bed, wide awake. The next morning, I was dressed and ready to go, holding the deed to our house. “This is how we get our lives back,” I said calmly, placing the deed in front of him. “Take it and play one last hand.” 1 “Babe, please, don’t do this! I swear I’ll never gamble again. Just believe me one more time!” Mark was on his knees, tears streaming down his face. “I’m cutting ties with those guys. I mean it.” He slapped himself, hard. Even when his lip started bleeding, he didn’t stop. Seeing him like that, I felt a pang of guilt. I’d actually heard that Dave, one of the groomsmen, had won a bundle playing Texas Hold’em, and was planning a celebratory dinner. A little card game at a wedding is no big deal. But my husband, who usually wouldn’t even buy scratch-offs, had lost all our wedding money. He’d been set up. The thought made me clench my fists. “Promises are cheap, Mark. You blew twenty grand in one night. How long do you think it’ll take to earn that back?” I didn’t want to tell him the real reason, I just wanted to teach him a lesson. His face went white, filled with shame. After a long pause, he turned and pulled out our marriage certificate, handing it to me. “Honey, maybe we should just get a divorce. I don’t want to drag you down with me.” Seeing the tears in his eyes, I decided to give him another chance. I helped Mark to his feet and immediately grabbed my phone. “Loan. Get a loan, whatever we can, with the payback date set for tomorrow.” Mark just stared, dumbfounded. “Honey… you…” Before he could say anything else, I grabbed the cash and headed to the poker game. “Don’t say a word. Just follow my lead.” When we got there, the same group was still playing, including Dave. I didn’t say anything, just sat down. “Dave, you’ve won enough, right? Can’t you spare a little for me?” Dave saw us and grinned. “What’s this? Back for more?” “If you’re offering yourselves up, who am I to refuse? But let’s get one thing straight: if you lose again, you pay back everything, including what your husband already owes.” Dave’s words didn’t bother me. Instead, I smiled. “Deal. But I have a condition.” I changed my tone. “Let’s raise the stakes. The minimum bet is a grand a hand.” Dave laughed. “Haha, never thought anyone would hand money over this way! You think you can win?” I might have thought it, but I couldn’t let them see it. I stayed cool and looked at Dave. “It ain’t over ’til it’s over. My husband’s luck was crap, doesn’t mean mine will be too.” Dave smirked. “You’ll regret those words.” I smiled, noncommittal. “Anything can happen before the cards are dealt, right?” I didn’t say anything else and sat across from Dave. I could see his face from this position. “Deal the cards, then. Let’s see what happens.” 2 As soon as the cards were dealt, I glanced at mine and slammed ten grand – fresh from the bank – onto the table. “First day of marriage, let’s start with ten grand to feel it out.” My husband immediately grabbed my arm. “Honey, don’t! Those are high stakes! We lose that, and we’re done for.” I ignored him, grinning and holding up my cards so Dave could see the King. He hesitated, surprised by my boldness. Seeing his reaction, I kept pushing. “Hey, Dave, you won, like, fifty grand from my husband! You gonna chicken out over a grand?” “Mark said that no matter how high the stakes are, you’re a guy that would come in for more, but when it gets to me, you’re a chicken?” “Or you think you’re not as skilled, so you want to give up this hand?” I raised my voice, practically screaming: “I’m gonna win!” “Alright, alright, I give! A pair of Kings? I don’t think you’d get so lucky every time!” Dave then threw his cards down onto the table. It was a pair of Queens and an Ace. That’s a pretty good hand in this game. Pairs are hard to get. Everyone thought I had a pair of Kings, so they all gave up. But I deliberately exposed my three cards. “Oh, whoops, sorry! I read it wrong. It wasn’t a pair of Kings after all!” When I showed my cards, Dave slammed a hand on the table. “Holy crap! Just a straight flush! What were you yelling for?” I pretended to be nervous, scratching my head. “Sorry, sorry! First time playing for so much! Got a little carried away.” I gathered the cash. Even though no one called me, the rules let me get a few grand for compensation. Dave got it then. I was using a classic psychological tactic. Be bold enough, and even a stronger player will chicken out. This failure made him see me as more than a novice. But the same trick only works once. This was a showdown of true skill. Even though he only lost a grand, he was seething. “So, you wanna play mind games? Let’s go!” He rolled up his sleeves, all fired up. “C’mon, let’s see if you can back up your big talk.” Seeing him losing it, I calmly raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get all worked up, Dave. Maybe you’ll get lucky next time.” My taunt made him even angrier. He practically jumped to his feet. “Enough talk! Deal the cards!” The gambler’s high was in full swing. He’d made a killing with his big bankroll, and now he was losing to me, a woman borrowing money. He had to be pissed. I was secretly laughing. When the second hand was dealt, I didn’t even bother looking at my cards. I just pulled out my phone to kill time. Dave, still smarting from the last round, peeked at his cards first. I watched him from my screen, waiting for him to say something. I moved quickly, “Congrats, Dave. This game is mine, you can go right ahead.” 3 I threw down my cards, and everyone was stunned. No one expected me to fold without even looking at my hand. This wasn’t just any game. Folding meant throwing away a grand. Seeing the grand I had earned disappear, my husband couldn’t help but ask, “Honey, what are you doing? At least check your cards, you might have something good!” I tapped the table, still calm. “Honey, we can’t beat him this round.” Dave slammed the table. “What’s going on? Folding without looking? You look down on us?” The others glared at me. I calmly revealed my cards. “Guys, I really didn’t want to do this, but the cards were bad.” They saw my hand: 2, 3, 5. “Oh man, with cards like that, give it up.” “She’s just got bad luck, I hate it when I get cards like that.” “Wait, how did she know her cards were bad? She never turned over her cards.” Finally, someone saw that I had never moved my hand. Now, my husband was staring. I leaned back in my chair and said, “Everyone, I never left my spot, you won’t think I’m cheating.” They watched, “She’s right, from the deal she’s only touched the table.” Dave just looked down and didn’t say anything. I gave up on the next hands. The money I had won was all gone. My husband was anxious, “Honey, this can’t go on, what if we never get good cards? I think we should leave now.” I slapped his back. “Calm down, we haven’t earned our money back yet. I know what I’m doing.” When I put the money onto the table, they told me to stop. I smiled and didn’t say anything, Dave was excited. They thought that I was giving up, I put all my money onto the table. “Sorry guys, I have to go all in.” That was roughly ten grand. If I won, I would earn my money back. This game, I had to win it. Luck was on my side, Dave got the winnings. His expression changed. He thought I had good cards. He looked at his hand. I just looked at him. They all backed down. Only Dave was left. He said, “I won’t let you get to me.” He threw his cards down. “I’m in!” I was throwing everything away. Dave said, “I will make you go broke.” He put in another ten grand. There were now fifty grand on the table, it wasn’t my end goal yet, but I didn’t rush. I had him, he was going to fall into my trap. 4 “Dave, are you confident with your cards? How about we bet something bigger?” I grabbed my deed. “This house should be worth fifty grand.” Everyone gasped. My husband shouted, “What are you doing? Stop doing this, you’ll lose everything.” “Where would we live?” I just waved. “Mark, grow up, you are always so scared! Now is the time to go all in!” “Say that I lose, what if I win? We’d get all of our money back!” My husband didn’t stop, I glared at him. Dave’s eyes lit up. “Honey, once we bet, there’s no going back.” I grabbed the deed and put it on the table. “It’s just a house, I can play with it.” They surrounded the table. Dave nodded. “Great! I’m in with you! It’s just fifty grand.” He grabbed a bag from the back and put it on the table. I looked, and it was fifty grand. With my move, the pot was over a million. “Honey, are you in? If you don’t have the money, you have to give up half.” Dave looked at me, he thought that I had no choice. I laughed. “Who said I didn’t have money? I’m sitting here, aren’t I?” The people were in shock. “She’s crazy, who would bet themselves?” “Mark lost money yesterday, this family has lost it.” Mark, my husband looked at me, “What are you doing? If you……” I stopped him. “Do you want me to take care of you?” I threw the marriage certificate on the table. “Dave, if you win, I’m yours!”

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My college boyfriend, Ethan Vance, became a pop idol in some new boy band. I went to LAX to meet his flight, like a fan. He took the flowers I brought and tossed them straight into the nearest trash can. A year later, I became the president of the entertainment company he was signed to. “I want the lead role in Director King’s new movie,” he begged, kneeling on the floor, starting to pull off his shirt, his eyes pleading. I let out a small laugh, pushing his face away dismissively with the toe of my high heel. “Go shovel manure for six months, then we’ll talk.” 1. My ex-boyfriend, Ethan Vance, made his debut. I found out from Sophia, my roommate. Sophia is obsessed with celebrities, a total fangirl. This morning at ten, she spent a solid ten minutes screaming in our dorm about her latest obsession. Finally, out of breath, she just kept repeating like a broken record: “Aiden, oh my god, he’s so hot, so hot!!” “Wait, I thought you were into boy bands? When did you start following European stars?” I teased casually from the side. “He’s not European!” Sophia instantly shot up. “He’s American! His real name is Ethan Vance!” Ethan Vance… seriously? The same name as my college ex? Turns out, it wasn’t just the same name. It was him. Later, grabbing dinner, I walked past Sophia’s laptop and glanced over. She was watching a live stream. The guy on screen, with bleached hair, holding a mic, singing and dancing his heart out. Wasn’t that my ex-boyfriend, Ethan Vance? 2. We dated for a year in college. He was gorgeous, tall, athletic. When he played basketball, his white t-shirt would sometimes ride up, showing a sliver of his waist, making girls on the sidelines swoon. I never dreamed someone like him would date me. My style was pretty basic, my grades were average, nothing special about me, really. But somehow, we ended up together. He’d bring me coffee and a bagel on cold winter mornings before my 8 AM class. He’d buy me iced tea to cool down during the scorching heat of club recruitment week. He’d run laps with me, rain or shine, when I was struggling to meet the required campus miles for PE. But we still broke up eventually. It was Valentine’s Day. I gave him a gift that cost me about a hundred dollars. He squinted, holding the watch I gave him between his fingers like it was something disgusting. He didn’t even bother with a polite thank you. He broke up with me right after he got back to his dorm. His reason? I was too cheap. He couldn’t accept such an inexpensive gift. But the truth was, that watch cost me nearly a month’s worth of my food budget. My family wasn’t well off; he was always decked out in designer labels. Our financial situations were worlds apart. Looking back, the breakup wasn’t surprising. I calmly agreed to it at the time. But even two years later, I realized I still wasn’t completely over him. Maybe because he was my first love, maybe because he was just that good-looking, maybe because no guy had ever treated me that well before. Whatever the reason, I definitely still had feelings for him. 3. When he came to LA to film a show, I went to the airport to meet him, pretending to be just another fan. It was July, brutally hot. As soon as he walked out of the gate, the crowd surged forward. I was crammed in with a bunch of other fans, my t-shirt soaked with sweat, sticking completely to my back. Security guards formed a circle around him, pushing back the fans who got too close. He was wearing a suit, gold-rimmed glasses, looking polished and polite as he accepted gifts awkwardly handed to him by fans. Including the bouquet of flowers I brought. The entertainment industry’s packaging had made him even more elegant and handsome than he was in college. For a fleeting moment, I even thought about trying to get back together with him. Until I saw a bouquet of flowers in an airport trash can. I knew it was mine because the note I’d written was still tucked inside. Written from the perspective of a devoted fan, not an ex-girlfriend. July, nearly a hundred degrees Fahrenheit, but I suddenly felt ice-cold, right down to my bones. I felt like a puppet with its strings cut, collapsing onto a nearby bench, wondering why I had even come. To see him, just for a second, I’d taken time off work, endured the blazing sun, paid for an expensive cab ride rushed to the airport. All to give him a bouquet of flowers. And he couldn’t even be bothered to take them with him, just tossed them in the trash. 4. I was bummed out for days. My work performance tanked. Sophia thought I’d had a bad breakup. I could only laugh bitterly, “Who’d even be interested in me?” Yeah, who? The Ethan Vance of today certainly wouldn’t look twice at me. What were flowers I bought for a hundred bucks to him? Probably no different than scrap metal. To try and cheer myself up, I decided to go out for some late-night BBQ. It was hot out, but the food truck scene was lively. I picked a popular spot near my apartment. I hadn’t taken more than a few bites when some guy dressed kind of weird asked if he could share my small table. The owner apologized profusely, saying they were packed and there were no other spots, asking if I minded. I’m pretty introverted, but looking around, the place was jammed. The only empty stool was across from me. Since the owner had already asked, it felt rude to refuse, so I agreed, and the guy sat down. That single agreement turned out to be a huge mistake. 5. Paparazzi snapped photos of me and the guy from the BBQ truck, and suddenly, I was splashed across gossip sites as his girlfriend. Yes, the weirdly dressed guy turned out to be an idol. Even more absurdly, he was Jax Colton, a member of Momentum. Momentum – the very same boy band Ethan was in. A hot idol supposedly having a girlfriend, whether there was proof or not, is always a major blow to their image. I watched in horror as the hashtag #JaxColtonBBQGirlfriend climbed the trending charts. The comments section was already filling up with angry fans ditching him. Panicked, I quickly made a new burner social media account to set the record straight. My denial actually seemed to work. The paparazzi only had pictures of us eating near each other, nothing even remotely romantic. Jax’s management team quickly provided solid evidence debunking the rumors. The online narrative shifted rapidly. Relieved, I closed my laptop… 6. Nobody expected the curveball that came next. Jax Colton did have a real girlfriend. Worse, she believed the paparazzi’s flimsy story. I watched, stunned, as she started leaking scandalous, intimate photos of Jax. She also threw shade online, vaguely warning me not to pick up someone else’s trash. My blood pressure skyrocketed. This situation was spiraling way beyond my control. My DMs filled up with messages from strangers trying to pry information out of me. Whispers and weird looks followed me at the office. Within a week, I was drowning in an endless flood of online drama and real-world gossip. Feeling overwhelmed, I chose to quit my job. Quitting a job in LA without another lined up takes guts. But I got lucky. Just two days after I resigned, Someone contacted me, saying they wanted to offer me a position. Seeing the familiar number on my phone screen, I hesitated. Ethan Vance… 7. Ultimately, I answered the call. He said he wanted to offer me a job. “How did you know I quit?” I asked, suspicious. “Heh,” a dismissive, contemptuous sound came through the phone. “You caused such a huge scandal, your whole life story is practically online now thanks to the fans digging.” “I didn’t cause anything!” I shot back angrily. “It was the paparazzi taking things out of context! Besides, with all this stuff about me out there, you think you’re totally safe?” “Are you threatening me?” His voice turned cold instantly. “My PR team isn’t incompetent.” “I could leak stuff about you too… just like your bandmate’s girlfriend did.” “Go ahead,” his voice was so dark it made me shiver. “You leak anything, and I’ll make sure you find out what it feels like to be ripped apart by the entire internet.” Even though it was scorching hot outside, a sudden chill ran down my spine. “What kind of job are you offering me?” I steered the conversation back to the point. “Personal assistant to an artist… interested?” “You want me to wait on you?” My voice jumped an octave. “So you can torture me more conveniently?” “Like I need you to wait on me?” The mockery in his voice was barely disguised. “It’s for a different idol, a rising star. Interested or not?” I had zero experience as a PA, let alone for a job offered by Ethan, which sounded suspiciously like a trap. But I needed to make a living. So, I tentatively agreed. I’d go interview at Apex Entertainment in a few days.

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When I came to, I was floating near the ceiling, and there was a woman in my house. She looked so innocent. Wearing a perfectly fitted white cashmere cardigan, she stood by the window. On the stove, water bubbled noisily in a pot. The woman skillfully dropped in some pasta, drained it when it was perfectly al dente, and poured a simple sauce over it. Just like that, dinner was ready. Her name was Emily, my husband’s star student. What was she doing in my house? Emily had a gentle smile, a picture of quiet grace. As I tried to process, she moved without pause, setting the table with a familiarity that suggested she’d done this a thousand times. Then, she looked up, a blush rising on her cheeks, and called out shyly in my general direction, “Come and get it.” Before the words fully left her mouth, a tall figure walked towards her. The man strode quickly, almost eagerly. He pulled Emily into a tight hug, holding her with a carefulness that made it seem like he was embracing the most precious thing in the world. Held like that, Emily looked like… well, like she belonged there. She tilted her head back shyly, stood on her tiptoes, and brushed a soft kiss against the man’s cheek. He bent down, capturing her lips with his own. A moment later, they pulled apart, both slightly breathless. “Okay, stop fooling around, the pasta’s getting cold,” Emily scolded playfully, though her voice brimmed with happiness. The man stroked Emily’s hair, his touch full of affection. I couldn’t move my feet. The man’s back looked so familiar. As he turned, my heart hammered against my ribs. A horrifying suspicion took root, making my fingertips tremble. The instant I saw his face, my eyes flew wide open. My whole body shook. The man looking down at Emily with such tenderness in his eyes was my husband, Ethan. I almost collapsed, a sharp, choked sob escaping me. I doubled over, the veins on my forehead throbbing. My trembling hand reached out towards my husband. But it passed right through his face. Oh god. I was dead. All I could do was watch them, loving and intimate, right in front of me. Before… before this, my husband had called me, asking what I wanted for our third anniversary. I’d thought of so many possibilities. Never this. Ethan, is this your third-anniversary gift to me? How fucking special. But… when did this even start? When did they get together? 2 Emily. I’d met her before, quite a while ago. I was there the day she was assigned to Ethan’s team. Back then, Ethan didn’t like her. He even found her annoying. But the department insisted he take on a trainee, and Emily was pushed onto him. She was, well, a bit timid for the job. Couldn’t handle decomposed bodies, wasn’t strong enough to move corpses easily. She created a lot of extra headaches for him. For a long time after that, whenever I visited the medical examiner’s office, I’d hear him complain. “I’m not here to be a teacher. Dealing with the dead is busy enough without them forcing someone on me who just makes more work! She’s not strong enough, what good is she?” I found it almost funny at the time, how much this young intern got under his skin. “Hey, I’m a woman and I became a cop, remember? Got a problem with me too?” I’d retorted. “How can she compare to you? My wife is the star of the precinct!” he’d said proudly. But gradually, I heard Emily’s name less and less. I eventually almost forgot she existed. Until a few major cases hit the city. Ethan started working late constantly, sometimes staying out all night. One day, I made some beef stew and brought it to his office. Emily was there that day, too. They were eating lunch together. “The liver from the cafeteria is actually really good!” Emily was saying cheerfully as she ate. “Know why medical examiners don’t eat organ meat?” Ethan asked, his eyes lowered, his voice deep. “Wh-why?” Emily asked, curious and a little nervous. “Because it tastes a lot like human flesh.” “Whoa!” Emily looked like she was about to cry from fright and turned to me to complain. Ethan just sat there, leaning back casually, a hint of a smile playing on his lips as he watched. At the time, I naively thought it was a sweet moment. But thinking back now, Ethan was never one to joke around much. Especially not with people he didn’t like. A loud “Crash!” pulled me from my memories. Emily stood amidst a pile of shattered glass, looking helpless and pitiful. Ethan rushed out of the bathroom, water droplets still clinging to his hair, dripping down his jawline. “I just wanted to look at it, I didn’t mean to,” Emily stammered. Ethan glanced briefly at the shards on the floor, then turned his concerned gaze entirely on Emily. “It’s okay,” he soothed her. “Are you hurt?” I didn’t have the energy to watch them. I just stared numbly at the broken pieces on the floor. What Emily had shattered was the only thing my dad left me. 3 Before I met Ethan, my dad was the only person in the world who was truly good to me. My mom didn’t like me. She’d dropped out of school early herself to work for my uncle, suffering all kinds of hardships. She couldn’t stand seeing me have it easier; she wanted me to taste the bitterness she had. When I was in middle school, she wanted me to quit and save the money for my brother’s after-school activities. My dad wouldn’t allow it. He thought it was about money, so he worked extra jobs tirelessly. Later, exhausted, he died in the line of duty during a mission. After Dad passed away, Mom finally had her excuse. She blamed his death on me. My life got even harder. One day, I came home and saw her rummaging through Dad’s belongings. Anything valuable had long been sold off, except for a few certificates and his service award trophy. “Marrying you was the worst luck ever! Dead and still broke! And I gave you kids… you just couldn’t wait to check out, leaving me with this mess!” After venting, she spotted the yellow metal base of the trophy and her face lit up with a sudden grin. She thought it was gold. She wanted to sell it. I immediately snatched it away. “No! You can’t touch this!” Seeing me grab it, she flew into a rage and kicked at me. “You brat! Your brother’s starving, and you’re hoarding this piece of junk? You ungrateful little bitch, worthless girl!” Her fists rained down on me like hail. She clawed and scratched, her nails leaving bloody trails on my skin. I hadn’t eaten properly in ages. I couldn’t fight back. All I could do was cry out, hoping someone outside would help. Soon, my cries attracted a crowd. Ethan was among them. Ethan was different from me. He came from a well-educated, respected family of doctors and academics. His parents were loving; he grew up surrounded by affection. He never lacked money. I, on the other hand, was always covered in bruises, constantly hungry. Besides my school uniform, all I owned were ill-fitting, worn-out clothes. But him? Always clean sneakers, always neat, well-fitting clothes. The crowd criticized my mother, but no one paid attention to me. Except Ethan. He gently took my hand. “I have medicine at my place. Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.” I still remember how carefully he avoided my wounds. His touch was so light, it felt like the cuts didn’t even hurt anymore. Yet, it also felt incredibly strong, heavy enough to effortlessly pull me up from the ground. Seeing me about to leave, Mom started screaming curses. “You worthless thing, put that trophy down! I must have done something terrible in a past life to birth such a heartless creature!” With that, she lunged at me, claws out, trying to grab the trophy. I stumbled back. Ethan stepped in front of me. He spoke coldly, “You want to mess with a hero’s award? What, you want to go to jail? Don’t you know you can’t touch national honors medals?” Just a teenager, but radiating confidence. My mother, hearing him, got scared. She hadn’t had much schooling and didn’t know if he was telling the truth, but she instinctively believed him. Still, her mouth didn’t stop spewing insults at me. “Jenna! Already learned how to hook up with boys and turn against your own mother, huh?! You cheap trash, worse than a streetwalker!” It wasn’t the first time she’d cursed me, but it was the first time it had been that vile. But I didn’t care. I had saved Dad’s medal. Ethan frowned. I felt ashamed, unable to look at him. The next second, he covered my ears with his hands. The world went silent. Only my own heartbeat echoed, loud as a drum. This was my most humiliating memory. Ethan knew it better than anyone. He knew I valued that trophy more than my own life! I watched him step over the shards, carefully lifting Emily’s hand like it was a treasure, inspecting the cut on her finger. In the dim light, I saw him frown, saw the pain in his expression – for her. Even knowing he’d changed, that he didn’t love me anymore, my heart ached fiercely at that moment. Emily sniffled quietly. “What do we do? I didn’t mean it, I just wanted to see…” “It’s okay,” Ethan comforted her. “Is this thing important?” “No, it’s not important.” Emily’s tears turned to smiles, and she nestled happily into Ethan’s arms. To console this woman he’d known for only a few months, he ruthlessly discarded our ten years together. Ultimately, I was just a poor judge of character. This was the only memento my dad left me, and he said it wasn’t important? Not important! I told him once, this was more important than my life. 4 After sweeping the scattered fragments into a dustpan and then into a trash bag, Ethan paused, staring at the bag thoughtfully. Finally, he placed the trash bag containing the pieces in a corner, separate from the rest of the garbage. He sat down on the sofa, his gaze fixed on that corner, lost in thought. When Emily came out after her shower, she noticed the bag by the wall. “Should we take that out when we leave?” she asked Ethan, who was still on the couch. “No need. Leave it; I’ll handle it.” For some reason, Ethan didn’t throw the pieces away immediately. He kept them. But soon enough, the two of them were wrapped tightly in each other’s arms again. I stood beside the trash bag, wanting desperately to tear open the black plastic, to touch the fragments of the trophy, the pieces that held my father’s name. But my hand passed through the bag, through the shards, over and over. Utterly futile. At that moment, a wave of helplessness and despair washed over me. And those two cheating dogs were right there, whispering and cuddling. I wanted to kill them. Any way possible. I lunged towards them in fury, wanting to claw their faces. They remained completely undisturbed. I hated it. I felt sick to my stomach. Looking at their ugly faces, I couldn’t stand being near them for another second. I desperately tried to flee the room. But when I reached the doorway, I hit an invisible barrier and bounced back. Frustrated, I tried again and again, only to end up like a dead fish, sprawled on the floor. I understood then. I couldn’t get too far away from Ethan. I was trapped near him. How ironic. Watching the couple on the sofa behind me, utterly powerless. The man who once swore eternal love to me was now holding another woman. It was laughable. Jenna, oh Jenna, you were so blind. I watched Ethan’s hand on Emily’s waist, watched him kiss the small cut on her fingertip, his eyes full of devotion. “Does it still hurt?” His voice was low, magnetic – the voice I knew so well. Whenever I got hurt, he would comfort me softly just like that. Except my injuries were knife wounds, sprains, torn muscles… Emily’s was just a tiny scratch. The scene unfolding before me made my stomach churn. I felt like throwing up again. “Ethan…” Emily began, her eyes misty, but Ethan silenced her unfinished words with his mouth. “Didn’t we talk about this? Call me by my name when no one else is around. I don’t want to be just your mentor, Emily. Not only your mentor.” Responding to him, Emily tilted her neck back, returning his kiss passionately. A shrill ringing suddenly pierced the air. Startled, as if caught doing something illicit, both looked annoyed. Ethan moved to answer the phone, but Emily clung to him, protesting. The ringing, however, showed no sign of stopping. Reluctantly, Ethan stood up and checked the caller ID. “It’s the office. Probably a new case.” He put the call on speaker, so I could hear too. “This one’s bad, Ethan. Get back here, quick!” The voice on the other end sounded urgent. 5 I was forced to follow Ethan to the medical examiner’s office. Emily trailed close behind him. The office was chaotic, everyone rushing around. No one seemed to notice anything unusual between Ethan and Emily. An emergency meeting was called to handle the body parts forensics had sent over, to assign the autopsy. The remains were partial limbs, recently pulled from the lake. As the most brilliant forensic pathologist of his generation, Ethan was unsurprisingly assigned the autopsy. Emily would assist, documenting the findings. The moment I followed Ethan into the autopsy room, my heart clenched violently. Staring at the limb on the stainless steel table, I had a sickening feeling I knew who it belonged to. Ethan changed into blue scrubs and approached the table, beginning the examination methodically. The partial limb on the table was just a forearm, bloated and bleached white from the lake water. The skin tissue was severely damaged. Due to the recent heatwave, decay had already set in around the cut edge. The room reeked of decomposition. Emily took one look, turned pale, and averted her gaze, waving a hand in front of her face. “So gross.” It was just the two of them in the room. Seeing Emily tremble, Ethan dropped all pretense of professionalism. He pulled her into a hug. “It’s just a limb, don’t be scared. Aren’t I right here with you?” He gently patted her back, his tone indulgent. “You’re so easily spooked. How can I trust you to handle cases on your own someday?” “Then just keep me with you always, okay?” Emily’s eyes were full of dependence. Ethan frowned slightly but nodded anyway. Unexpectedly, as the scalpel made its first incision on the arm, a sharp pain shot through my own forearm. It made my scalp tingle, an agony I couldn’t suppress or lessen. Ethan’s deep voice boomed like thunder in my ears. “Right ulna length 24 centimeters. Based on ulna-to-height calculation, estimated height of deceased is around 5’5″. Significant outward curvature of the arm… deceased is female, bone age approximately 25 to 28 years old.” It felt like being plunged into ice-cold water. I snapped to awareness, yet felt frozen to the bone, my blood turned to ice, my mind blank. Of course. This was my body. Even though I had suspected, seeing the mutilated limb on the table still sent a wave of profound shock through me. I never imagined I would die like this, so brutally. 6 Even the brightest lights cast shadows. Aside from the faint sounds from the autopsy table, the room was silent. The examination was nearing its end. Ethan was patiently reviewing the autopsy report details with Emily, explaining everything meticulously, point by point. I stumbled towards the unrecognizable limb. An old scar on it, reopened and uglier than ever due to the prolonged immersion in water, gaped open. That scar… I got it a year ago, slashed by a criminal while on duty. I remember sweating from the pain, bleeding heavily. It took ten stitches to close. I hadn’t made a sound then, just gritted my teeth, my sweat-soaked hair plastered to my face. Ethan had burst into the emergency room then. He was frantic, hadn’t even changed out of his work clothes, beads of sweat on his nose as he ran in. The moment he saw me, his face went whiter than mine. The moment I saw him, the throbbing pain in my arm seemed to lessen. But his eyes reddened. He looked at my arm, wanting to touch it but afraid to. After a long moment, he managed to choke out two words. “Does it hurt?” I hadn’t felt sorry for myself, hadn’t really felt the pain until then. But his careful, quiet question unleashed a flood of tears. Suddenly, it hurt terribly. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m here,” he’d stammered, clumsily wiping my tears, holding me close, whispering comfort. In that moment, I felt like I had the whole world. My eyes saw only him. Later, the wound healed, but it left an ugly scar on my forearm forever. Even though I have a tough personality, dealing with criminals all day, and don’t usually fuss over my appearance, I’m still a woman. Looking at that hideous scar, I couldn’t help but feel self-conscious. Ethan noticed my discomfort. He took my arm, cradled it gently in his palm, kissed the scar softly, then looked me straight in the eyes and said, word by word: “This is a badge of honor, Jenna. Like your father’s medal. It’s the most beautiful mark in the world to me.” His words were so beautiful then, like young love, passionate and pure. But things change. No matter how beautiful the memory, it couldn’t withstand the brutal reality. Right now, I truly wished Ethan could recognize my body. We were once the closest people in the world, holding each other through countless nights, leaning on each other through disappointment and sadness. Nobody knew my body better than him. This scar, you kissed it once. Ethan, don’t you remember? I closed my eyes, letting go of that last shred of futile hope. Nearby, the two of them had somehow ended up in another embrace. Ethan, usually so meticulous about his work, was now tangled up with Emily right next to the autopsy table. He didn’t recognize me. They expertly cleaned the autopsy table, pushed aside the instruments that were in the way, and became intimate, oblivious to their surroundings. And my body was right there beside them. That’s my body. I wanted to get away. I felt nauseated. The initial despair slowly morphed into a venomous thought. He will recognize me eventually. Sooner or later, that day will come. He will realize he was fooling around with another woman right next to the body of his murdered wife. I looked forward to that day. I don’t know how much time passed. Emily was sitting again, Ethan hugging her tightly from behind, guiding her through her questions with that same protective, doting manner. Such a familiar scene, so much like how we used to be. Emily pointed to the scar tissue. “Here, the wound on the arm… how did you determine the time frame?” she asked, puzzled. “You can tell from the color of the granulation tissue. It indicates about a year ago…” Ethan ruffled her hair, looking satisfied. As he said this, a flicker of confusion crossed his eyes, disappearing as quickly as it came. A year ago, same spot, same wound. He had called it… the most beautiful mark. After a moment, pulled back from his distraction by Emily’s soft call, he resumed explaining as if nothing happened. Suddenly, the door to the autopsy room banged open. Ethan opened it. It was my old mentor, Captain Miller. He was bringing in more remains. It was my torso. 7 Unlike the arm, the torso hadn’t been thrown into the lake. Aside from the crushed skull and several patches of livor mortis, the body was relatively intact. Because of this, the crescent-shaped birthmark near my ribs was starkly visible. Ethan approached the autopsy table, then froze abruptly. His eyes locked onto my torso.

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The night we got married, I passed out drunk, and my husband snuck off to spend the night in his childhood friend’s room. When I found out the next day, he brushed it off. “She just wanted to feel what it’s like to be a bride for a night, it’s not a big deal!” We had a massive fight about it. He stormed out, slamming the door. The next time I saw him, he was gently helping his childhood friend—already heavily pregnant—shop for baby supplies at the hospital gift shop. I confronted him, furious and loud. He shot back, completely self-righteous, “She just wants a child with me to keep her company in her lonely years! It doesn’t threaten your position as Mrs. Cole. What’s the problem!” Hearing that, I demanded a divorce right then and there. He looked completely unfazed. “Fine. Just don’t come crawling back!” 1 When Ethan Cole returned three months later, I handed him the divorce papers I’d already printed out. “Sign them.” Ethan took them, flipped through a few pages casually, and snorted. “Claire, are you serious?” “Jessica and I grew up together. She lost her family young, she’s had it rough.” “She asked me to give her a child, something to keep her company through the lonely years ahead. What’s so wrong with that?” “Claire, seriously, don’t be so petty!” I remained expressionless. “On this, I can’t compromise my principles.” “You should find a wife who’s okay with her husband having a baby with another woman.” I grabbed my single suitcase, packed with my few personal belongings, ready to leave. Ethan stepped quickly in front of me. “Claire, stop making a scene, okay?” “Even if Jessica has the baby, it won’t affect your standing as Mrs. Cole.” “If it bothers you that much, once the baby’s born, I can bring him here for you to raise. Problem solved.” His tone was insistent, his face etched with irritation as he tried to force this ‘solution’ on me. The old me would have seen that look and immediately agreed to anything, just to keep him happy. But not anymore. Forcing myself to ignore how I really felt was torture. My voice was cold. “Sorry, if I want a child, I’ll have my own.” Seeing I wouldn’t budge, Ethan kicked over a display stand nearby. The crystal rose sculpture sitting on it shattered instantly as it hit the floor. I stared at the scattered fragments, feeling suffocated. That crystal rose… Ethan had specially commissioned it from an artisan overseas to celebrate our fifth anniversary. Now, it was just broken pieces. Like us. Irreparable. When exactly did the man who swore he loved only me turn into someone who would father a child with another woman? Were all those promises of spending a lifetime together just empty words, forgotten so quickly? Ethan froze for a second, looking at the crystal petal near his foot. He pressed his lips together, seemingly forcing himself to calm down. “Claire, we’ve been together for so many years. Are you really going to throw it all away this easily?” “I know Jessica’s always had feelings for me, but she never meant to upset you.” “Even wanting to be my bride… she just begged me to let her experience it for one night, our wedding night.” Hearing him say that, so matter-of-factly, I almost laughed out loud from sheer bitterness. What bride on earth would be okay with her husband spending their wedding night with someone else? It was the ultimate humiliation, like being trampled on! I regretted so badly not slapping that bitch that day. My voice dripped with sarcasm. “Oh, right, right. Poor little Jessica, the most pitiful girl in the world!” “After we divorce, you can just bring her right here to take care of her. Wouldn’t want the baby born without a dad, making poor Jessica’s tragic life even worse.” “You can show off your boundless compassion then.” Hearing my words, Ethan’s face darkened instantly. “Claire, don’t push it!” “You need to understand something. If you divorce me, you lose all of this – the money, the status, everything!” “Even if you get on your knees and beg me to take you back, I won’t.” “Besides, who would want to marry a divorced woman with a back full of scars!” 2 Those few simple words from Ethan felt like a knife twisting in my heart. It’s true. The people closest to you always know exactly where to strike to cause the most pain. Ethan was right. Most men wouldn’t want a wife whose back was covered in scars. But Ethan Cole was the last person on earth who had the right to say that. In high school, some criminals targeted the Cole family’s immense wealth. They ambushed Ethan after school, trying to bundle him into an unmarked car as he walked home alone. I saw him struggling. I grabbed his arm, trying desperately to pull him out of the sedan. Instead, they dragged me in too, taking us both to an abandoned warehouse. Even after they got the ransom money, they didn’t let us go. They set the warehouse on fire and fled. Ethan was unconscious. While trying to drag him out, a burning beam fell, hitting me squarely on the back. That incident sparked something different between Ethan and me. Even though it was just me and my grandma, barely scraping by, I refused the Cole family’s help after getting into college. I worked my ass off to pay my own tuition. I wanted to marry him without anyone whispering that I was just after his money. But now I realized Ethan wasn’t worth my effort. Not one bit. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably as I dragged my suitcase out of the Cole mansion. It was strange. I’d already decided I didn’t love him anymore. So why did it still hurt so damn much? I took my few belongings and went back to the old house in the small town where I grew up. The town isn’t big, not many people live here. But every single one of them watched me grow up. When Grandma saw me, she instinctively looked behind me. I knew she was looking for Ethan. My lips trembled. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her I was getting divorced right after getting married. But Grandma saw something was wrong anyway. Her eyes reddened as she took my hand. “It’s okay, child. It’s okay. You’re home now.” That night, lying on the creaky old wooden bed, I picked up my phone and saw a notification from Jessica. It was four wedding photos of her and Ethan. Then, within three minutes, she unsent them. Followed by a text: “Oops, sorry Claire! Meant to send these wedding pics with Ethan to him, accidentally sent them to you.” “You’re not mad, are you? 😉” The fake sweetness, the ‘oopsie’ vibe… it made me sick to my stomach. Lying there, a thought clicked in my mind. So, after Ethan stormed out from our fight, he and Jessica clearly did everything they shouldn’t have. Less than a minute later. Jessica posted those same photos to her social media feed. The main picture showed Ethan, smiling down tenderly, holding a heavily pregnant Jessica in his arms. Her caption read: 【Thank you, Ethan, for making my dream of a happy family come true! 】 I let out a cold laugh, immediately liked the post, and commented: 【Congrats on your happy family reunion! 】 Just as I was about to turn off my phone, it rang. Ethan. “Claire, what the hell was that comment on Jessica’s post?” “We just took a few pictures, that’s all! Did you have to leave such a nasty comment?” “Jessica saw it and got totally hysterical, now her stomach hurts!” “She’s right here next to me. You need to apologize to her, right now! If something happens to the baby because of this, you can’t afford to take responsibility!” My voice was sharp. “Who the hell does she think she is? Why should I apologize to her?” “The second I left, she threw herself at you, sleeping with a man who isn’t even divorced yet.” “Ethan, my advice? Finalize this divorce ASAP. That way, when people see you together, you can flaunt your love openly.” “It’ll be much better for the precious Cole Industries reputation too.” Ethan laughed coldly. “Claire, I already ripped up those divorce papers. I’m giving you one last chance to come back to me.” “Wait until I really don’t want you anymore. Then it’ll be too late for regrets!” I replied calmly, “Wow, thanks so much for the chance. Too bad I’m the one who doesn’t want you anymore!” “Right now, all I want is to get this divorce over with!” With that, I hung up. Ethan, Ethan, Ethan. How can you be so damn confident I’d actually want you back after you cheated? 3 Unfortunately, Ethan seemed completely incapable of understanding reality. First thing in the morning, I was jolted awake by my phone ringing. His name flashed on the screen. I immediately hit decline. But then he called the old landline in the house. Grandma, already up, reached for the phone, but I snatched the receiver faster. “Grandma, I’m hungry. Could you make me something to eat?” “When I was away, I missed your cooking every single day!” Once Grandma was safely dispatched to the kitchen, I hissed into the phone, “Ethan, will you just give it a rest!” “Can you please stop bothering my grandmother!” “Well, if you hadn’t hung up on my cell, I wouldn’t have had to call here,” Ethan shot back. “Where’s my breakfast? My stomach hurts, I’m starving.” Hearing him harassing me over breakfast, I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. When I didn’t respond, Ethan’s voice grew agitated. “Get back here right now and make me breakfast! Do you want me to get an ulcer or something?” “Whether your stomach hurts or not has absolutely nothing to do with me!” “Isn’t Jessica there at the house? Let her make you something.” Ethan exploded. “Jessica is pregnant! How could I possibly let her cook!” Those words, coming through the phone line, felt like another stab to the heart. He couldn’t bear to let her cook, but I was supposed to be at his beck and call? I’ll never forget the year I was drowning in my thesis work. He called, saying he craved my homemade chili. So, I rode my bike through a torrential downpour to deliver it to his office. When I arrived, soaked to the bone, his colleagues stared at me with pity and curiosity. I knocked on his CEO office door, and who opened it? Jessica, wearing a slinky little dress. She took the insulated container from me, her voice dripping with faux surprise. “Oh, Claire, you really shouldn’t have! Coming all this way in this storm with chili!” “I told Ethan not to bother you, but he was just so worried about me, he insisted on calling you to make it for me!” Jessica’s words hit me like a bucket of ice water, freezing me from head to toe. I just stood there, motionless. It wasn’t until Ethan came out from inside that I finally found my voice. “Were you planning to give the food I made… to her?” Ethan looked completely nonchalant. “It’s just food, Claire. No big deal.” “You haven’t found a job yet anyway, making Jessica some food isn’t exactly hard work.” “Besides, I’ve always seen her as a little sister. Once we’re married, she’ll basically be your sister-in-law. Think of it as getting to know each other early.” Back then, naive and trusting, I completely bought his explanation. There was even a period when I genuinely tried to bond with Jessica. Thinking back now, I want to shake my past self awake. Claire, how could you have been so easily fooled! I gripped the phone tighter, my voice cold. “Ethan, we are getting divorced.” “If you want food, figure it out yourself. Stop harassing me with this nonsense!” “You have more than enough money, hire someone! Anyone would be willing to cook for you!” “And I assume you don’t want the scandal of your affair with Jessica splashed all over the gossip sites, right?” Before he could start yelling, I slammed the phone down. Strange. I clearly won that exchange, yet my heart still ached with a dull throb. I rubbed my tired eyes and saw Grandma standing in the doorway, holding a bowl of hot oatmeal. “Was that your husband on the phone, dear?” I managed a weak smile. “Grandma, he won’t be your grandson-in-law anymore. We’re getting divorced.” 4 After finishing the oatmeal, I rode my bike into town and printed out another copy of the divorce agreement. Just as I handed the new envelope to the courier, my phone rang again. Ethan. The frequency of his calls made me momentarily think he’d somehow already received the papers I just sent. I snapped into the phone, “We are about to be divorced! Please stop calling me!” There was a pause on the other end, then a sickly sweet voice purred, “Claire, honey, it’s me, Jessica.” “Tomorrow, Ethan and I are having our gender reveal party! You have to come, okay?” The triumph in her voice was unmistakable, even over the phone. “Jessica, you’re the mistress, the secret on the side. Who gave you the audacity to provoke the actual wife?” Jessica’s sugary-sweet voice came back, laced with venom. “Oh, Claire. The one who isn’t loved is the real third wheel.” “In Ethan’s heart, I’m the one who matters most.” “From now on, his heart only has room for me and our baby!” “Hope you can make it tomorrow. Be there!” After hanging up, a decision formed in my mind. Not only would I attend tomorrow’s party, but I’d also bring a little surprise for her and Ethan. Something truly unforgettable. The next day, when I arrived at the party venue, it was already filled with familiar faces. There were Cole family relatives, along with business partners who worked with Cole Industries. I recognized most of them from my time dating Ethan. Seeing me arrive, several people approached immediately, offering congratulations. “Congratulations, Mrs. Cole, to you and Mr. Cole on the wonderful news!” A few businesswomen chimed in with compliments, “Mrs. Cole, you’re several months along and barely showing! What’s your secret to staying so slim?” I smiled serenely. “That’s because the one who’s pregnant isn’t me.” I honestly couldn’t understand how Ethan could allow his mistress to be presented so formally in front of all these people. Wasn’t he afraid of becoming the laughingstock of their entire social circle? He must have been completely blinded by Jessica’s manipulation! Just as I finished speaking, music swelled, and Jessica walked out, arm-in-arm with Ethan. Seeing her obviously pregnant belly, everyone in the room instantly understood what I meant. The looks on the faces of all the women present shifted dramatically as they stared at the couple on the small stage. Jessica, seemingly oblivious to the sudden change in atmosphere, shot me a defiant look. Putting on a frail, delicate act, she stepped forward and took the microphone. “I have to thank Claire for me being pregnant with Ethan’s baby.” “If she hadn’t fought with Ethan, I never would have had the chance to go away with him on that three-month trip!” “That’s when our baby was conceived.” This blatant airing of their dirty laundry actually made me see her in a new, albeit disgusting, light. Now I finally understood why she insisted I had to be here. She wanted to force my hand, pressure me into a quick divorce so she could marry Ethan, using the baby as leverage. And Ethan? He didn’t seem worried at all about becoming gossip fodder. So much for Ethan’s “innocent little sister.” What a calculating bitch! Jessica then picked up a champagne flute and walked towards me, smiling. “Claire, I really, truly have you to thank!” I returned her smile, unfazed. “Since you’re so grateful, let me give you a big gift in return.” I snatched the microphone from her hand. “Excuse me, servers? Could you please open the doors? Let’s welcome the baby’s biological father, Mr. Rick Johnson!” Under the confused stares of the crowd, a rough-looking man dressed in cheap clothes stormed in, fury radiating off him. He looked like a gorilla, built and angry. He saw Jessica, standing there pregnant and glammed up, and slapped her hard across the face. The force of the blow sent Jessica sprawling to the ground. He grabbed her by the hair, yelling, “You rotten bitch! I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” “Took me long enough, but I finally found you!” Jessica scrambled, panicked. “No, no, no! You’ve got the wrong person!” The man sneered. “Even if you were ashes, I’d still recognize you!”

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At the wedding everyone was talking about, two grooms showed up. Me, the actual groom-to-be, was forgotten. My bride, Ava, face flushed and shy, reached out her hand to Caleb, her supposed savior, who was down on one knee proposing. He was wearing the expensive custom suit Ava had commissioned for me, holding the ring that was meant for me. When I questioned her, her face filled with disgust, her tone dripping with impatience. “A wedding is just some meaningless ceremony. The person I legally marry will still be you.” Well, if they were so madly in love, I should naturally step aside and let them be happy. Turning my back on the wedding scene, I made an overseas call. I said softly, “Pull the funding. I’ll be leaving the country as soon as possible.” 1. At the incredibly lavish wedding venue, I, the groom-to-be, was left standing alone. An endless firestorm of rage burned through my chest. My eyes were bloodshot, fists clenched tight. My fiancée, Ava, wearing her wedding dress, looked down with a surprised smile at Caleb, who was on one knee, proposing to her. The sight stabbed at my eyes, turning them red. The tightly wound thread in my mind finally snapped. This wedding was the last chance I was giving her. Before the wedding, she had sworn to me, promising to cut ties with Caleb completely and focus on being my bride. The agony flooding my eyes met Caleb’s blatant smugness and provocation. All my sincere feelings became a joke in that moment. I laughed bitterly to myself. It felt like someone had ripped a gaping hole in my chest, letting an icy wind howl through it. “Ethan, buddy, I’m sorry. I accidentally put on your suit. How could you be late on such an important day like the wedding?” Caleb’s attempts to smear me were still so pathetic. But the willfully blind Ava couldn’t see through him. Seeing my cold expression, Caleb feigned fear and hid behind Ava. She shielded him, looking at me defensively. Her voice laced with anger, the eyes that once looked at me with tenderness now held no trace of love, only irritation. “Have you caused enough trouble?” “You show up late to your own wedding and have the nerve to question Caleb? Thank God he got here in time to save the day.” I let out a cold laugh and turned around, revealing the back of my shirt, stained dark and damp with blood. Ava froze, her eyes widening slightly, a touch of red creeping into them. She stared incredulously at my back, her voice filled with confusion, “What happened?” Seeing my gaze fixed directly on Caleb, who was desperately trying to look calm, Ava’s brow furrowed slightly. She blurted out, “Impossible.” Caleb, full of dirty tricks, seized the opportunity, putting on an innocent face to defend himself. “Maybe he was just late and splashed some fake blood on himself on purpose.” “Oh really? I get mysteriously knocked out from behind, making me late. You think the real culprit might get scared if I called the cops?” Caleb’s face instantly paled, his eyes darting around, unable to meet mine. “Enough! I already agreed Caleb could handle this mess for you. I believe he’s innocent.” As soon as she finished speaking, Ava publicly took Caleb’s hand. She signaled for the ceremony to continue. And I, the real groom, became a mere spectator at my own wedding. Because Caleb had supposedly saved her life once, she was always at his beck and call, acting like his devoted wife. Fine. I’d let them have each other. 2. This time, I couldn’t even be bothered to question her. My heart had gone completely cold. Since she didn’t cherish this seven-year relationship, why should I cling to it? The back of my head throbbed where I’d been hit. I had risked my life to get to this wedding. And she agreed to let another man marry her in my place, not worried at all about my disappearance. It was always just me being foolishly devoted. Just as I was about to leave, rows of bodyguards blocked my path. “Hold him down. Make him watch and see what happens when he defies me.” Struggling was useless. The bodyguards forced me to my knees at the feet of Ava and Caleb. Forming a grotesque human triangle. The guests below, enjoying the spectacle, erupted into mocking laughter. “Hilarious! Even a kept man has a temper?” “If Ava hadn’t been supporting him all these years, he’d probably be begging on the streets. Maybe some rich old lady would pick him up as a pet she could beat whenever she wanted.” “Ava gave him plenty of respect, and he still dared to ditch the wedding? He needs to be taught a harsh lesson.” Hearing this, Ava flashed a satisfied smile. She bent down slightly, grabbing my chin, her tone dripping with contempt. “Behave yourself. You should be thanking Caleb for saving the day for you.” How could she humiliate me like this? Tears streamed down my face, but then I started to laugh, my whole body shaking. Seeing me like this, seemingly losing my mind, Ava casually looked away. She deliberately made me watch as she and Caleb exchanged wedding rings, then embraced and kissed deeply amidst waves of applause. Accompanied by my own enraged screams. The kiss ended, their lips slightly red and glistening. Caleb’s eyes were full of lust. Seeing the anguish in my eyes, he pulled Ava even tighter. His gaze towards me was pure provocation. Ava waved her hand, signaling the bodyguards to release me. She ordered me coldly, “Behave yourself later. Run interference with the drinks for us. I won’t hold being late against you anymore.” I suppressed the fury inside me, just wanting to get out of there quickly. My heart, already riddled with holes, felt so tired. I tried to walk away, but Ava blocked my path again. “Are you deaf?” My ice-cold gaze fell on their intertwined hands. A sarcastic sneer appeared on my lips. “The illegitimate daughter and the homewrecker – a perfect match. You two deserve each other. Just stay locked down and don’t ruin anyone else’s life.” The mockery in my words made both their faces change instantly. Ava, furious, pointed her finger at my nose, scolding, “Can’t you stop being so petty? The wedding is just a meaningless ceremony! The man who will legally marry me, my lawful husband, will only be you, Ethan.” Seeing me flustered, Caleb’s triumphant gaze filled his eyes. He eagerly added fuel to the fire, “Ava’s right. The wedding is just for show, for outsiders.” “If you’re still mad, you can hit me to blow off steam.” Saying this, Caleb leaned his handsome, pretty-boy face closer. I smirked slightly and rewarded him with a loud, sharp slap across the face. Caleb looked up, stunned, his cheek already swelling where I’d hit him. A flash of malice crossed his eyes. His face gradually turned red. Clenching his teeth, he managed to force a smile. Seeing him get hit, Ava flew into a rage and swung a slap at me. After this, I finally saw through her cold, heartless nature. With no lingering affection left, why would I just stand there and take a slap? I dodged it, meeting her surprised gaze. I tugged at the corner of my mouth and turned to leave the wedding venue. Threatening words followed me from behind. “If you dare take one step out of here, we’re breaking up, effective immediately!” She used to always use breaking up to control me, banking on my love for her. But now I was planning to leave her world. The leverage built on love was useless against me now. 3. I had given up my family, staying alone in this city, willingly devoted to Ava for seven years. Only to be mocked by her friends and family as a kept man, a loser, leeching off a woman to survive. This time, I was really leaving. I dialed that familiar number. Forcing down the surging, bitter emotions, I pretended to be casual, saying lightly, “Cut the funding. I’ll be leaving the country ASAP.” In three days, I would completely disappear from Ava’s world, never to meet again for the rest of our lives. After getting my head wound treated at the hospital, I returned to the home I had personally decorated for us. Forcing myself to stay awake, I threw away everything that belonged to me, just like myself – alone. From now on, there would be no trace of me left in Ava’s world. Late at night, I curled up on the sofa, burning with fever, feeling miserable. I was about to get up and turn on the lights, planning to go to the hospital. In the darkness, the firmly shut front door opened. Two voices, panting with arousal, intertwined. Even though I had warned myself internally, seeing the scene unfold before me still sent a shameful pang of pain through my heart. Ava and Caleb were tangled together, their kissing sounds like claps of thunder striking deep into my soul. I silently watched the passionate scene playing out. “Baby, I can’t wait anymore. Give yourself to me, please? I’ll be good to you.” Caleb chuckled lewdly, eagerly trying to pull off Ava’s clothes. Ava made a show of protesting playfully, hitting him lightly a few times. Clearly playing hard to get. We dated for seven years, lived together for five. I had always cherished her too much to touch her. I wanted to save that respect and value for our wedding night. But her? She couldn’t wait to bring someone back to our home, fooling around right there in the entryway. How pathetic. Just as they were about to cross the line, I abruptly flipped on the lights. It startled Caleb so much he almost went limp from fright. I chuckled nonchalantly, clapping my hands in front of them. “Quite the show tonight. Caught you red-handed, cheating.” My words stung Ava, her face paling slightly. Being caught in such a private act, even her thick skin couldn’t handle it. Her lips trembled, her face turning from white to red. Caleb pulled her into his arms, comforting her softly, then looked up at me, his eyes filled with hatred. “Ava already broke up with you. This is her house. Get the hell out.” I had seen everything just now. My stomach churned violently. Ava’s nose was red from crying, but the words she spoke sent a chill down my spine. “You’ve loved me for so many years. Can’t you even tolerate this little thing?” “Where else can you go if you leave me?” “Just be good and listen. We’ll go get legally married in a while.” ‘Be good and listen’ again. She always wanted to control my thoughts, my soul, make me live like a puppet on a string. I wasn’t her pet. I clenched my fists in anger, my body trembling uncontrollably. A coldness escaped my lips. I stared intently at the face I had loved day and night. Hating myself for being so blind, for falling in love with such a faithless woman. Sorrow wrapped around my heart like dense wires, suffocating me. I felt sick. My voice turned icy, “I agree to the breakup. From now on, we are strangers.” As soon as I said it, Ava’s expression darkened instantly. Caleb, however, looked thrilled, thinking he could finally latch onto the wealthy CEO. Endless riches would soon be his. “Ethan, I’m not discussing this with you. I’m informing you.” My head felt increasingly heavy and sick. I couldn’t be bothered wasting my breath on her. Ignoring her words, I turned to leave. But they blocked the door. Ava’s face darkened as she snapped at me. “Listen to me! Go back to your room and stay there. What’s the big deal? Everyone plays around sometimes. Just turn a blind eye.” Her brows furrowed, her eyes glaring at me with hostility. Knowing I was weak, running a high fever in the middle of the night. She ordered Caleb to drag me into the room and lock the door, only letting me out when I was ready to admit I was wrong. Even my phone, my only connection to the outside world, was confiscated. My forehead was covered in cold sweat. I curled up, feeling incredibly sick. From the next room came sounds of moaning, like relentless raindrops, washing over my already shattered heart again and again. 4. I drifted in and out of consciousness. I don’t know how much time passed before the door finally opened. Caleb kicked my head aggressively, his voice unable to hide his excitement. “Well, look who’s still alive. Be smart and get out of the way. Ava can only be mine. Even her first time was with me.” “You protected her for seven years, didn’t even dare touch her, yet she willingly let me. As another man, I even feel sorry for you.” Finished speaking, Caleb leaned close to my ear, his laughter seeming to seep in from everywhere, constantly reminding me of this humiliation. Not long after, Ava, clearly exhausted from her night’s activities, walked awkwardly out of the room. Burning with fever all night, plus the wound on the back of my head splitting open again… I opened my mouth, my voice hoarse, calling to her, “Give me my phone. I need to go to the hospital.” Hearing my voice, Ava raised an eyebrow in surprise, looking down at me. A satisfied smile appeared on her face again as she asked, “Learned your lesson?” “I’m tired of this faking-sickness act. Get up and make us breakfast.” A wave of desolation washed over me. My cheeks were flushed red from the fever; anyone who wasn’t blind could see it. Consciousness faded again. The last thing I saw was Ava’s enraged face as her hand came flying towards me in a slap. It wasn’t until the next day that I slowly regained consciousness. I was lying on the cold floor. There was a patch of white dampness on my chest, smelling faintly of bitter medicine. She hadn’t even bothered to take me to the hospital, just poured some medicine down my throat and left me lying on the floor, not caring if I lived or died. When I moved my jaw, a sharp pain shot through my face. I pushed myself up from the floor and walked to the mirror. My face was swollen like a balloon. Clear finger marks were imprinted on it. I instinctively clenched my fists. Seven long years, I gave everything, yet I didn’t even deserve basic respect. My phone, tossed on the floor, vibrated a few times. I picked it up. Caleb had sent several pictures and videos of him and Ava kissing, every message dripping with bragging. They had gone on their honeymoon. The honeymoon I had looked forward to for seven years, she casually gave it to another man. The three days were up. This reunion, seven years overdue, had finally arrived. I threw away the SIM card. The last moment before deleting my messaging app, my blurred vision focused on the pinned chat. Seven years of love. Let it have a proper end. [Goodbye!] After sending the farewell message, I boarded the plane without looking back. From now on, I was free as a bird. I would no longer be her caged pet. 5. During the time I was unreachable, Ava received the farewell message and panicked, as if she had lost the most important person in her life. She became obsessed, dropping everything to search for any trace of me. Tears of regret streamed down her face. Completely unaware of this, after a flight of over ten hours, I landed in a completely unfamiliar country.

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