Category: English

Because my boyfriend had a very high sex drive, we always had to try new things every time we made love. To make up for this, he coaxed me more than once, saying: “Once you graduate, we’ll get married.” I believed him. So, I worked my fingers to the bone, piling on credits to graduate early. At the same time, I secretly watched all kinds of adult content at night, studying new techniques, just to keep him physically satisfied. Until one day, I missed my dorm curfew because I was studying too late, so I ran to a bar to find him. By chance, I overheard him chatting with his friends. “Leo, is your girlfriend really that wild in bed?” “Of course she is. I trained her myself.” “What about Mia then?” Leo blew out a puff of smoke, his eyes turning soft and tender. “She’s different. She’s pure.” In that moment, the seed of hatred was planted. Returning to campus, I immediately called my professor. “That classified project you mentioned… I want to apply.” From this day forward, my life would be dedicated solely to my country. “Professor, that Project Spark you mentioned before… I’d like to join.” The professor paused, clearly surprised: “Are you sure? Once you join Project Spark, it will be at least five years before you can contact anyone on the outside.” “Didn’t you just turn me down last time, saying you were going to marry your boyfriend after graduation?” I stood in front of the mirror, trailing my fingers over the dense constellation of hickeys and bite marks covering my body. I smiled, a bleak and desolate expression. “I’m not getting married anymore. From now on, I only want to serve my country.” Seeing my firm resolve, the professor didn’t try to dissuade me. He simply reminded me: “The transport to the base leaves in three days. Take this time to say a proper goodbye to your boyfriend.” “After all, you two are engaged.” I hummed a soft agreement, looking down at the ring on my finger, my eyes slightly red. Yes, we were engaged. As I spaced out, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Leo. [Why haven’t you replied? Come out and keep me company.] The address he sent was the exact same bar from earlier. Without rushing to reply, I opened my laptop and reviewed my application form one last time. After confirming everything was perfect, I headed out to meet him. “What took you so long?” Leo was leaning lazily against the sofa, clearly displeased by my tardiness. “I couldn’t get a cab right away. Had to wait a bit.” I threw out a random excuse and moved to sit beside him, but his hand suddenly gripped my waist. His voice was teasing: “Get up. That’s not your seat.” Leo’s words acted like a switch, causing everyone in the room to burst into laughter. “Yeah, Sister-in-law, that’s not your seat,” Leo’s childhood friend chimed in, a playful smirk on his face. “How could you just sit on the sofa? Obviously, you’re supposed to sit on Leo’s lap.” The others joined in, their teasing laced with innuendo: “Yeah, exactly. Look, Sister-in-law, all our dates are sitting on our laps.” I looked around, and it was true. Almost all the men present had a scantily clad woman perched on their laps. Noticing my gaze, the men’s actions grew even bolder. The sound of heavy, uneven breathing filled the room. Leo’s childhood friend, while fondling the warm body in his arms, shot me a suggestive look: “Don’t just stand there watching, Sister-in-law. Take good care of our guy Leo.” I didn’t say a word, but my heart sank to the absolute bottom. I recognized those women. They were famous escorts at this bar, and I… I was Leo’s fiancée. Or at least, in name. I touched the engagement ring on my finger and turned my gaze to Leo, who hadn’t said a word. I was waiting for him to speak up. Leo didn’t look at me. He stared intently at his glass, acting as if he completely missed the mockery in their words. It wasn’t until the private room grew completely quiet that he reluctantly reached out a hand, offering a half-hearted comfort: “They’re just joking around. Don’t take it seriously.” Seeing that I still remained silent, he finally put on a show of caring, tossing a few weak reprimands at the others before pulling me down to sit. “Alright, don’t be mad. I’ll warn them next time.” The atmosphere in the room began to heat up again. I leaned against Leo’s chest, my mind racing with thoughts on how to break up with him. Suddenly, the door to the private room was pushed open. Mia walked in, dressed in a pristine white dress. “Leo?” Almost instantly, all the men shoved the women off their laps and scrambled to adjust their clothes. Including Leo. He pushed me aside, stood up, and walked over to Mia. He covered her eyes, his voice incredibly gentle: “Be a good girl, Mia. Give us a second to clean up.” Then he glared at the others, his eyes flashing with a warning: “Hurry up and get these women out of here! Don’t dirty Mia’s eyes.” The men scrambled—opening windows, shooing the escorts out. Someone even thoughtfully switched on the bright white overhead lights, illuminating the entire room. But it couldn’t illuminate the gloom settling over my heart. So, this is what it looks like when Leo genuinely cares about someone. This is what it looks like. I suddenly lost all desire to stay. I stood up and started walking toward the door. My movement startled the others, and someone quickly reminded Leo. “Leo, Sister-in-law is still here.” Leo frowned, blurting out instinctively: “So what if she is? It’s not like…” He seemed to catch himself, silently removing his hand from Mia’s eyes. He offered a flimsy excuse: “Mia is still young. She hasn’t been exposed to this kind of stuff. She’s not like you.” I smiled, though a trace of profound sorrow flashed through my eyes. He forgot that Mia was actually a year older than me. But because I had no place in his heart, he didn’t care about my feelings. I walked past them, ready to leave. But Mia suddenly blocked my path, her voice timid and delicate: “Sister-in-law, please don’t be mad. I actually came here to return something.” As she spoke, she opened a ring box, revealing the massive diamond inside. “Last time I saw the ring on your finger, I was so envious. I just casually mentioned I wanted one too.” “I never expected…” Mia cast a shy glance at Leo, her voice rising slightly, like a hook pulling at his attention. “I never expected Leo to actually remember. Just to make me happy, he gave me such an expensive diamond ring.” “I heard it’s the kind where you can only custom-order one in a lifetime. I felt too guilty to accept it, so I specifically came to give it back to you, Sister-in-law.” She said she was giving it back, but her grip on the box never loosened for a second. Looking down at the plain silver band on my own finger, I suddenly felt incredibly foolish. Two years of a relationship. Seven hundred and thirty days of companionship. Leo dismissed me with a plain silver ring that cost less than thirty bucks. Whether in bed or out of it, I had completely undervalued myself. I took two steps back. For the first time, I didn’t try to save face for Leo. I simply pushed the door open and left. The private room erupted in gasps. Someone scoffed, speaking loudly: “Who the hell does she think she is, throwing an attitude at Leo?” “Shut up!” Leo glared at the guy, his face dark as a storm cloud. It was already 3 AM by the time I left the bar. The streets were practically deserted. Only the occasional, restless cold wind blew past, sweeping me into memories. I met Leo two years ago during a part-time job. He said he had never met anyone as pure as me and wanted to have a relationship that would never end. I thought it was a joke and rejected him time and time again. Until New Year’s Eve that year, when my stepfather secretly picked the lock on my bedroom door. Terrified, I dialed Leo’s number. On that snowy night, he pulled me out of hell and promised to give me a home. I desperately wanted a home. During our two years together, he coaxed me into exploring every sexual boundary and promised me countless times that we would get married. But we had been engaged for six months, and only now did I realize the truth. Aside from this incredibly basic silver ring on my finger, I had never even met Leo’s family. Screw the engagement. Screw love. Screw… me. Tears blurred my vision. I pulled the engagement ring off and threw it into a trash can. Leo, I don’t want to marry you anymore. Two days left before I joined the classified project. The next morning, I woke up early to pack my bags. Leo, who hadn’t come home all night, walked in. He looked stunned for a moment, then immediately grabbed my hand. “Where are you going?” I didn’t look up, offering a simple explanation. “Finals are coming up. I’m moving back to the dorms.” Leo’s expression softened. He expertly wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, his tone suggestive: “For how many days? You know I can’t survive without you.” I used to enjoy this kind of sweet talk between lovers. Now, for some reason, it made me nauseous enough to throw up. I pulled out of his embrace and continued packing. With a casual glance, Leo noticed my bare finger. His eyes instantly turned cold. “Where’s your ring? Where did it go? Why aren’t you wearing it?” The rapid-fire questions caught me off guard. “It got dirty, so I took it off for now.” I don’t know if it was just my imagination, but Leo seemed to let out a sigh of relief. He smiled and casually promised: “If it’s dirty, just throw it away. It wasn’t worth much anyway. I’ll buy you a better one tomorrow.” Right, it wasn’t worth much anyway. Two years ago, when Leo proposed to me, it was in a hotel room. After a passionate session, I asked him with red eyes: “Leo, will you marry me?” Leo froze for two seconds, then pulled a completely unadorned silver ring from his pocket and slid it onto my finger. No flowers, no applause, and definitely no getting down on one knee. But I was foolish enough to believe he would bring me happiness. Thinking back on it now, my naivety is almost laughable. I zipped up my suitcase and went to the bathroom to wash my hands. My phone suddenly buzzed with a tag notification. A proposal video had been uploaded to Mia’s social media. In the shaky footage, Leo knelt on one knee amidst the cheers of the crowd, carefully sliding a diamond ring onto her finger. Under the lights, the massive diamond sparkled blindingly. It pierced my eyes. When I backed out and tried to click the video again, it was gone. All that was left was an apology message from Mia. “Sister-in-law, please don’t be mad. We were just messing around last night.” “I don’t know how I accidentally tagged you. We had originally agreed not to tell you.” “Sister-in-law, you aren’t angry, are you?” Mia’s provocative messages came one after another. Outside the bathroom door, Leo was knocking. “Chloe, what kind of ring do you like? I’ll take you to pick one out tomorrow, okay?” The massive dissonance felt like an invisible blade, repeatedly stabbing my already shredded heart. I sniffled and replied to Leo in a clear voice. “Okay.” That night, I don’t know what possessed Leo, but he insisted on dragging me to a corporate cocktail party. In our two years together, this was the first time he was willing to be seen with me at a public event. The party was going smoothly, and Leo was in a great mood. Until Mia barged in like a frightened little bunny and knocked a glass of red wine out of a wealthy businessman’s hand. The red wine splashed all over the man, and his face turned dark as a thundercloud. “What’s your problem? Watch where you’re going!” Mia’s eyes instantly welled up with tears. She looked at Leo pitifully, unable to speak a single word. Leo frowned and pulled Mia behind him, his tone stiff: “She’s just a young girl. Don’t make a big deal out of it, Mr. Chen.” His dry, unapologetic words made the businessman’s expression even darker. He pointed at Mia cowering behind Leo and sneered: “Fine. Have her pour me a drink and apologize, and I’ll let it go.” Mia tugged at Leo’s clothes like she was begging for her life, still refusing to speak. Leo patted her hand comfortingly, then suddenly turned his gaze to me. “Chloe, you pour Mr. Chen a drink and apologize on Mia’s behalf.” I froze for a moment, then immediately refused: “Why should I?” Leo frowned, looking at me like I was being completely unreasonable. “Mia is still young. She’s never had to deal with this kind of thing.” “You’re different. You’re used to it.” The surrounding area instantly fell silent. The guests looked at each other, their eyes gleaming with the anticipation of a good show. It wasn’t long before someone couldn’t hold back and winked at Leo. “I couldn’t tell. She’s so young, yet so experienced. Mr. Sterling is a lucky man.” “Yeah, absolutely. Mr. Sterling sure knows how to train them. Even the girl by his side is so ‘capable’.” “We all need to take notes from Mr. Sterling.” The malicious, suggestive comments drained the color from my face. Leo’s eyes sharpened, and just as he was about to speak, Mia dramatically fainted, as if she had been terrified out of her wits. Leo instantly panicked, scooping Mia up and rushing toward the exit. Leaving me alone to face the increasingly brazen and leering stares of the crowd. In the end, it was that wealthy businessman who stepped forward and escorted me out. When we parted ways, he draped his own jacket over my shoulders and said to me: “Little girl, you’re still young.” That one sentence shattered all my fabricated pride. When I got home, I stood in front of the closet for a long time. There was a lot of stuff inside, almost all of it gifts from Leo. I took them out one by one and laid them on the bed. A red lace slip dress—his gift for our 100-day anniversary. Black thigh-high garters—his gift for our one-year anniversary. Nude, pointed-toe stilettos—his gift for my 20th birthday. … Every single gift was custom-tailored by Leo for me. Every single item objectified me, reducing me to a tool to satisfy his desires. But I only just realized that this wasn’t love. My phone screen suddenly lit up. It was a message from Leo. [Mia is fine now. I’m coming back to pick you up.] [I bought you a new ring. I’ll give it to you when I get back.] [About tonight… I’m sorry.] A call suddenly came through. It was Professor Liu. “Chloe, there’s a change of plans. We need to leave a day early.” “The car to pick you up is already downstairs. Hurry up and pack your bags.” “Okay.” I wiped away my tears, grabbed my luggage, and left the place that had trapped me. Before boarding the plane, I sent Leo one final message. “Leo, I don’t love you anymore.” The next second, the long-silent chat log began to vibrate frantically. When Leo received my text, he was still at the hospital taking care of Mia, who was faking her fainting spell. During our time together, we rarely fought. Most of the time, he would be the one angry, and I would be the one groveling—whether with words or with my body. Even when we did argue, we rarely said anything harsh, let alone bring up breaking up. Leo, though shocked, assumed I was just angry that he had abandoned me at the party and left me with that businessman. He figured he just needed to buy me a gift and coax me a little once this was all over. I was always easy to coax; he had always done it this way. But when he realized my phone was completely unreachable, no matter how many times he called… He finally realized this time might be different. Panic set in. After learning that Mia was perfectly fine, Leo prepared to leave. As he was walking out, the woman grabbed his hand, begging him to stay: “Leo, stay with me, please? I’m scared to be alone.” Leo used to be completely powerless against her fragile act; as long as she asked, he would always agree. But today, for some unknown reason, he suddenly lost all patience with Mia. Even her delicate, gentle demeanor grated on his nerves. “I have things to do. Rest up.” With that, he turned and rushed back to the cocktail party. Mia watched his retreating back, her expression shifting from pitiful to incredibly venomous. She lowered her head, plotting who-knows-what. Leo drove back to the party. After searching the entire venue to no avail, he finally confirmed that I was truly gone. The party was full of all sorts of people. Worried I might be in danger, Leo frantically asked everyone if they had seen where I went. Memories from before we dated suddenly flooded his mind. He remembered my bloodshot eyes as I hid in a corner after being abused by my stepfather. A wave of crushing regret washed over him. Why did I choose another woman when she needed me the most?! Damn it! Leo’s frantic search caused a huge scene. Finally, someone who knew what had happened stepped forward to tell him the truth. I had been taken away by the wealthy businessman from earlier. Leo’s attitude toward me at the party had been terrible, his words full of cheap, degrading implications. Everyone there viewed me as nothing more than his plaything, and their speculations about my identity only grew more vulgar. After answering Leo, they began whispering amongst themselves, guessing where the businessman had taken me and what he was doing to me. When Leo gave all his gentleness and concern to Mia, he never anticipated the disaster his careless words would bring down upon me. Or perhaps he did anticipate it, but just didn’t care. His words: “Mia is still young… You’re used to it.” Were tantamount to shoving me off a cliff, making everyone believe I was a loose, cheap woman—an object that could be traded for money and lust at any moment. And with every possibility those people whispered, accompanied by sleazy chuckles… Leo finally exploded in rage. He seemed to believe their theories. After all, in his eyes, I was exactly that kind of shameless slut. Mia was the gentle, pure beauty. If I was willing to throw away my dignity to blindly please him, to endure insults from others and humiliation from him… Then I would surely please someone else just as eagerly. I would please that businessman. He pulled out his phone to call me, but I was already on a plane with my phone turned off. Unable to reach me only cemented my “illicit affair” with the businessman in his mind. He started sending me texts, using every degrading, insulting word he could think of: “Where did you go?” “Do you know I’m looking for you?” “Did you run off with someone richer? Or are you in some old man’s bed right now?” “Does he know your body as well as I do?” …

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1 Three years after my remarriage to Jaxson Mason, on Valentine’s Day, a reporter broke the news to me, his agent: a livestream of him “playing” with a popular young actress in a set restroom. After enduring the media onslaught, fighting back tears, I stormed over to the set, dragged him away from a table laden with food, and confronted him. “Jaxson Mason, if you couldn’t control yourself, why did you come crying and begging me to remarry you?!” “I was only twenty when I got with you! I even missed my mother’s last moments so I could support your acting career and help you win awards! And now, on Valentine’s Day, you’re openly causing a scandal with someone else? Do I mean nothing to you?!” A hickey was starkly visible on his collar. He exhaled a puff of smoke at me, a careless smirk on his lips. “Did I beg you to be with me at twenty? Did I tie your legs down so you couldn’t see your mother?” “Aria Taylor, you did it willingly.” I froze, my blood turning to ice. Only the person who loved you most knew exactly where to twist the knife. After a long silence, I choked back a sob and nodded. “You’re right.” But what he didn’t know was that if I could spend ten years making him a star, I could just as easily make someone else one. … The heating in the house was cranked high, yet my body was trembling. The dinner I’d spent three hours preparing on the table was already stone cold. Jaxson’s favorite dishes were placed closer to his seat, even though he hadn’t eaten a meal in this house in ages. Even though my workload was piled up for the next month, I’d still taken a few hours off because he’d mentioned wanting my cooking for Valentine’s Day. Now, he had driven the sharpest dagger straight into my heart. Tears streamed down my face, one after another, uncontrollably. I covered my face, sobbing. Jaxson impatiently pursed his lips, then reached out and wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. “Stop crying, it’s annoying.” “You’re not a twenty-year-old girl anymore. Tears don’t work on me.” I pushed his hand away, looking down to grab a tissue and harshly wipe my face. When was the last time I cried? It was at our wedding, when Jaxson couldn’t stop crying, saying he couldn’t live without me and would love everything about me. The man in front of me was still him, but how could his words have changed so much? After a long pause, a soft knock came at the door, and a head peeked in. “Boss, the big boss is on the phone…” It was Jaxson’s assistant. It seemed this mess was indeed quite big. I sniffled, took the phone, and said, my voice heavy, “Boss, I’ll consult with the other team before issuing a statement. They likely just had too much to drink…” Jaxson suddenly snatched the phone from me and yelled into it, “Remember to put all the blame on me in the announcement; Chloe Rivers has nothing to do with this.” His voice held a tender concern. “I couldn’t control myself… she’s still young, she can’t handle the media.” I shot my head up, my eyes wide with disbelief, my heart trembling violently. “Jaxson Mason, are you out of your mind?! That lurking reporter was called by Chloe Rivers herself! Don’t you know what she’s up to?!” He gave me a dismissive glance, nonchalant. “I know.” “I’m fine with it.” Those three words struck my heart with brutal force, making me sway precariously. He had said the same thing three months after our divorce when he came begging for reconciliation. Back then, he’d found my house, knelt at my doorstep for half the night, and almost set a hillside ablaze trying to light fireworks for a grand confession. When the media asked if he was okay, his eyes had sparkled, and he’d said the same thing. “As long as Aria’s happy, I’m fine with it.” I had softened then. But now, all my love and self-respect were being trampled underfoot. My thoughts snapped back to the present. Jaxson had already hung up the phone and was sitting at the table, looking at the spread of dishes. He picked up his chopsticks, grabbed a piece of his usual favorite spicy chicken, put it in his mouth, then quickly spat it out. “Disgusting. Next time, let’s just order takeout.” I picked up the dishes and dumped them all into the trash, shedding my last tear. “Alright.” Jaxson looked back at me, his gaze lingering, as if he wanted to say something but held back. An ill-timed ringtone broke the silence. He glanced at the caller ID, a smile touching his lips. “Chloe, yes, I’ll be right there.” I called out to him, my voice cold. “Jaxson Mason, if you walk out that door today, we’re getting a divorce.” He paused, his eyes briefly widening in surprise. “Aria Taylor, are you threatening me?” Then he let out a soft laugh. “You need to calm down first. Look at you, what a mess.” With that, he strode out without a backward glance. I looked at myself in the mirror: swollen, red eyes beneath disheveled hair, even the buttons on my shirt were mismatched. I looked like a lunatic. A bitter smile touched my lips. I changed my jacket, combed my hair, and headed to the office with my assistant to deal with work. There was no choice; life had to go on. As the car pulled into the parking lot, I spotted Jaxson, masked, chatting with someone. I intended to pretend I hadn’t seen him, but his words brought me to a dead halt. “What devotion? Back then, I just put on an act, going all out to reconcile with Aria, all for that resource she had that helped me win Best Actor.” My head exploded, and suddenly I couldn’t hear anything else. My memory flashed back to when I was twenty. After my graduation ceremony, I met Jaxson at the school gate. He took my hand and said he wanted to be an actor. “Aria, I know this path might be incredibly tough. But I want to try. Will you stay with me?” I looked into his fiery gaze and finally nodded. That path truly was incredibly tough. We had no connections, no resources. In the beginning, I acted as both his agent and assistant, running to sets in heavy snow, shamelessly asking directors if they needed anyone. It was too cold. We’d huddle together in our tiny rented apartment. He’d wrap the only down jacket around me, grinning foolishly. “Aria, I’m so glad you’re here.” Later, fate smiled upon him. He was finally discovered and became a huge star. The day he won Best Newcomer, Jaxson proposed to me, holding the trophy. That day, the top trending searches were filled with photos of him crying and embracing me. I thought our love had found its happy ending. So why did we divorce later? I couldn’t quite remember, only that Jaxson came home less and less, breaking away from the team to do his own thing, and the cold glare he’d sometimes cast my way. “I want to do what I love, not be a puppet under your arrangements. Aria, you just don’t understand me.” By then, I had become a prominent agent in the industry, yet I still only managed him. What I thought was good, he apparently didn’t appreciate. During our most intense argument, we went straight to the courthouse and divorced. Looking back now, in those three months after our divorce, Jaxson was indeed rarely active on screen. His subsequent rise to stable fame only came after he secured that resource I held. This remarriage was never pure to begin with. My heart was so cold it felt numb, beyond pain. Under my assistant’s bewildered gaze, I took several deep breaths and returned to the office. There was noise coming from the conference room; Jaxson and Chloe Rivers were livestreaming. “I hope everyone refrains from spreading those videos; it’s not good for Chloe. And I hope everyone can support our upcoming movie.” As Jaxson spoke, he saw me walk in, and his eyes flickered. “Ms. Taylor…” Chloe Rivers frantically jumped out of his embrace, so flustered she couldn’t even look at me. “What are you afraid of? They’ve handled the sneak shots; we’re just promoting the movie.” He forcefully pulled her back, giving me a nonchalant smile. “Ms. Aria Taylor, isn’t that right?” I watched with a blank face as he waved to the livestream, made playful remarks, flirted, and officially confirmed their relationship. After it ended, I let out a heavy sigh, suddenly wanting to clear things up. “Why her, of all people?” Jaxson was still staring at the woman’s lingering back. Hearing my question, his tongue pressed against his cheek. “Why ask so many questions?” He met my trembling gaze, a knowing, half-mocking smile on his lips. “It could be Chloe Rivers, or Claire Rivers, or Melanie Rivers. All of them are women I would actively choose.” “I told you, I only want to do what I love, not be forced by you, Ms. Aria Taylor, to film those commercials or go on those variety shows. What does any of that have to do with my acting career?!” Watching his increasingly agitated eyes, I suddenly laughed, a bitterly sarcastic sound. “Weren’t you ecstatic when you won Best Actor back then? What, did you forget that I also gave you that?” His eyes instantly turned cold, and he slammed his hand on the table. “Aria Taylor! Don’t you dare think you’re so incredible! It’s Jaxson Mason who got to where he is today, one step at a time!” “It’s my own hard work that has forged my current status. You, Aria Taylor, merely basked in my reflected glory. Anyone else could have done the same!” My nails dug deep into my palms. Suddenly, I understood. He resented me. He resented that his brilliant career was even partially attributed to me, resented the arrangements he had to accept even as he wished to break free. In an instant, all the bitterness and pain settled into a quiet calm. I looked at him for a long time, then nodded faintly. “If that’s how you feel, then that’s fine.” Then, I walked into the CEO’s office and handed over a document. “Mr. Thompson, I will no longer be managing Jaxson Mason. Additionally, this male artist’s profile looks promising. Please take a look.” I hadn’t expected Chloe Rivers to find me so quickly. Or to be so direct. “I’m pregnant. It’s Jaxson’s.” This wasn’t the first time I’d dealt with Jaxson’s rumored girlfriends. The previous girls were all quite green, constrained, and I’d sent them packing with a mix of veiled threats and encouragement. But Chloe Rivers was different. Her eyes gleamed with ambition. And why wouldn’t they? To enter the entertainment industry and land a lead role opposite Jaxson in just three months, she couldn’t possibly be that naive. I wasn’t in the mood to play games. “What do you want?” Her eyes flashed with a determined glint. “I want to be with him, to go public with our relationship. And I want your resources.” She was audacious enough to target me, the wronged party. I couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. The woman mistook it for mockery, and her expression soured. “Ms. Aria Taylor, I have plenty of chat records with him. I wouldn’t mind telling the media. See you next Monday.” She then paused, seemingly remembering something, and let out a peculiar laugh. “Were you forced to have an abortion back then, so now you want me to have one too?” My blood froze at that moment, and my mind instantly went blank. She covered her mouth, stifling a giggle, her face full of mocking triumph at having hit a nerve. “You act so proud in front of me, but weren’t you on your knees, big with child, begging Jaxson back then? Aria Taylor, are you his dog?” “If it were me, I’d want to find a rope and hang myself.” My pupils suddenly dilated, and my breathing became rapid. Jaxson and I’s first child had come at the most inopportune time. He had just landed a supporting role and needed to join the set. I sent him off to the set, then went through the pregnancy alone, thinking it would be a surprise. Until I was five months along, that show, along with Jaxson, suddenly exploded in popularity. He was on trending topics for weeks, all the spotlights chasing him. When he returned home and saw me, pregnant, his smile froze on his face. “What… what is this…?” My heart plummeted, and I suddenly realized something was wrong. After smoking half a pack of cigarettes, he took my hand and said the baby couldn’t stay. “Aria, I finally got to this point. Opportunity waits for no one! If people found out I had a child out of wedlock, who knows how many rumors there would be!” “You know how long I waited for this chance. We’ll have more children. Please, alright?” I looked at his pleading eyes, but my tears wouldn’t stop. Finally, my emotions collapsed, and I knelt on the ground, begging him. He squatted down, holding me tightly, but still wouldn’t relent. After he accompanied me through the abortion, he canceled all work and stayed by my side day and night as I had nightmares, never leaving my side. I convinced myself to bury that painful memory. But… “How do you know?!” Chloe Rivers propped up her chin, a knowing smirk on her face. “It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? Jaxson told me in bed.” A voice in my head told me not to get emotional, but my whole body started trembling uncontrollably. Memories collapsed before my eyes, shattering into pieces, impossible to put back together. “Chloe Rivers, shut your damn mouth!” Jaxson appeared out of nowhere, his face cold, and started dragging her away. The woman’s eyes widened suddenly, quickly welling up with tears. “Jaxson, how can you do this to me… I’m carrying your child!” His brow was furrowed deeply, too annoyed to even control his expression. “Things said in bed stay in bed, didn’t I tell you?” “Retire from the industry, and give birth to the child in peace. I’ll give you a sum of money. Chloe Rivers, I’ve given you more than enough.” He looked deeply at me, his hand resting on my shoulder, and said in a low voice, “That time, I drank too much… I didn’t mean what I said.” I abruptly pushed his hand away, a desolate smile on my face. “Jaxson Mason, let’s make a deal.” Fighting back the pain in my heart, I looked at the man I once loved so deeply and said, word for word, “The child can stay. We’re getting a divorce.” Jaxson’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Aria Taylor, what are you saying?!” Chloe Rivers quickly rolled her eyes, feigning an injured look. “To bear your child, I’m willing to retire from the industry, Jaxson. As long as I have a place in your heart…” She continued, “I know, you must be worried about me getting an abortion and harming my body.” After she spoke, she didn’t forget to give me a triumphant look. But Jaxson didn’t even see it. He was just staring intently at me. “Are you really going to be so heartless, Aria? All because of a child!” I smiled weakly, a smile that ultimately faded. “You’re the heartless one, Jaxson Mason.” “Yes, because you had a child with someone else, I want a divorce. You don’t agree?” He should have felt relieved. The man’s eyes trembled violently, and he glared at me fiercely. “I don’t agree!”

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Three years after our divorce, I ran into Ethan again on the streets of America. I was a volunteer handing out cold medicine, and he was a homeless man who had fallen below the poverty line. Ironically, back then, we divorced over a box of cold medicine. “Two pills, twice a day.” I handed him the medicine, my tone as flat as if we were strangers. But Ethan’s eyes reddened. “Chloe, you still hate me.” I didn’t look up, continuing to hand out the medicine. “This medicine costs one dollar. It’s very cheap. But back then, it forced me to sell my blood.” “Ethan, how could I not hate you?” 1 I spoke of my hatred so casually. Behind me, Ethan froze, unable to utter another word. After a long while, I heard his footsteps fading away. I turned around and watched Ethan’s thin figure swallowed by Seattle’s gray, freezing rain. “Chloe, do you know that homeless guy?” Someone gently nudged my arm. It was Mia, my junior from college, basically from the same hometown. I withdrew my gaze and nodded. “Yeah, my ex-husband.” Mia gasped, unable to suppress the shock in her voice: “Ex… ex-husband?” “Chloe, how could you marry a homeless man?” I shook my head and finished handing out the last pack of cold medicine before explaining: “When I met him, he wasn’t like this.” “We’re almost done here. This rain is going to get heavier, let’s get back to the university.” Along the way, seeing Mia’s curious but hesitant expression, I smiled helplessly. I casually told her about my past with Ethan. It was a very unoriginal college romance story. After graduation, he became a software engineer in Silicon Valley, and I was an actuary at a securities firm. Our income was substantial. The apartment we rented was in a wealthy neighborhood with good security. According to my plan, we would own our own home in five years, get married, have a cute baby, and become just another lighted window among millions in the city. Listening to this, Mia frowned deeply. “That sounds like a very happy life. Why did you divorce?” “Did Ethan cheat?” I gently pressed down her clenched fist and explained: “No, he didn’t cheat, and neither did I.” “We divorced because of a pot.” Mia’s eyes widened, thinking I must be joking. Perhaps it was more than just a pot. Three years ago, on a rainy night just like this. I asked Ethan to stop by a department store after work to buy a new pot. The non-stick coating on our landlord’s old pot was almost completely worn off. I was in charge of buying groceries, planning to cook a special dinner for our anniversary. In my imagination—the pot would be bubbling, Ethan would sniff the air and say, “Smells amazing,” and then, starting over soup, we would talk about our future. We would talk about how maybe next year we could buy our own house, or maybe get a cat. But when the door opened, Ethan excitedly held up a new camera and waved me over frantically: “Babe, come check this out!” “I paid extra to snag it, it’s a limited edition!” I stared at the camera, stunned for a few seconds. The plastic grocery bags dug into my hands, leaving deep red marks and a numb, throbbing pain. I instinctively asked: “Where’s the pot?” Ethan seemed caught off guard by the question. But he quickly smiled, his face full of nonchalance: “It’s just a pot. The department store isn’t going anywhere, we can buy it anytime.” “But if I missed this, it would be gone forever! Isn’t a camera way more romantic than a pot?” “Oh, by the way, I saw we still had some money in our joint account, so I bought plane tickets. Hurry up and pack, we’re taking the new camera to Iceland to chase the Northern Lights right now!” I didn’t say anything else. I just set down the grocery bags. Silently, I took out my phone and opened our joint account. Balance: $0.41. Not even enough to pay this month’s water bill. Ethan’s excited voice kept chattering in my ear: “Babe, I’m telling you, this camera has incredible high ISO performance. Our Northern Lights photos won’t have any noise at all. When we get back from Iceland, we’ll print them out and stick them on the fridge…” A familiar sense of powerlessness washed over me. I felt so tired. For three years, Ethan had always been like this. He lived in the moment, getting whatever he wanted immediately, even if it meant racking up credit card debt. And what I wanted was a future that I could comfortably plan for, a future that could withstand risks. I looked up at him, still excitedly playing with his new camera. Suddenly, it became clear to me: Ethan and I were fundamentally not on the same path. “Let’s get a divorce.” 2 With a clack, the camera in Ethan’s hand slipped and hit the corner of the table. He looked at me blankly: “Divorce?” “Why? Because I didn’t buy the pot? Or because I bought tickets to Iceland without discussing it with you first? Chloe, over something this tiny?” They were all tiny things. But enough tiny things scattered on the floor can drive a person to the breaking point. “Ethan, I’ve told you so many times.” “I don’t want to live this kind of life. I don’t want to constantly see our account balance in the single digits. I don’t want to have to use a credit card for every single purchase. I don’t want us to keep bouncing around, renting apartments everywhere.” “Being with you is exhausting.” Ethan acted like he had heard the biggest joke in the world, his voice rising as he argued: “Being with me is exhausting? I work hard every day. I want to show you the most beautiful scenery, I want to record our lives with the best lens, and that makes you exhausted?” “Yes! That is exactly what makes me exhausted!” Three years of accumulated bitterness and resentment suddenly exploded. I couldn’t help but yell. I opened my phone’s notepad, scrolled to the very top, turned the screen to Ethan, and demanded: “Ethan, do you remember this?” It was a simple note: Goal: House Down Payment. Current Total: $47,218 Progress: 21.2% The last time it was updated was three years ago, the afternoon we first saw that little apartment. Ethan’s eyes flickered. “You were the one who said you wanted to give us a home.” “My overtime pay from working late nights, the money I saved from skipping every cup of coffee and milk tea, all my savings went into this. But do you remember where this money ended up?” I opened another screenshot of an expired travel booking. “In the first month of our marriage, you maxed out the credit cards prepaying for that ‘Arctic Photography Tour.’ When your salary was delayed and you couldn’t pay the credit card bill, we almost couldn’t even pay rent. We had to use this money.” I pulled up one electronic receipt after another. “And this one, that ‘High Altitude Skydiving Experience Camp’ you said you absolutely had to attend last year, that used our emergency risk fund. You even spent an extra five thousand buying a whole new set of gear.” “And two months ago, we finally managed to save a little money. And you changed cars again, switching to a financed performance car. You said experiencing new driving dynamics was fun.” “Ethan, have you ever thought about our future?” His lips moved, but no sound came out. He just silently lowered his head. “Every time we go grocery shopping, I compare prices and calculate the weight, while you just stand there scrolling on your phone, impatiently telling me to just grab whatever because it’s only a few dollars’ difference!” “I told you we should take a class to learn something new because the layoff wave is severe. You said it was a waste of money, and then turned around and bought a new lens.” “I budget carefully for months, and you swipe your credit card for in-game purchases without blinking an eye.” … Perhaps my line-by-line recollection provoked Ethan’s anger. He frustratedly ran a hand through his hair. “Chloe, can you please not be so materialistic!” “All you see are pots and pans, rent and utilities. If life is only about those things, what’s the difference between that and being a walking corpse? I just want to make our lives more meaningful.” Two tears rolled down my face in sheer exhaustion. “Meaningful?” “But your ‘meaning’ means we can’t even afford this month’s water bill.” Ethan turned pale with anger. “Money!” “It’s money again, you’re always talking about money!” “We can always earn more money, but some opportunities, if you miss them…” I cut Ethan off. I didn’t want to continue this exhausting argument. “It’s been three whole years! Every time I say I want to save for a down payment, you say, ‘Renting is better, it’s freedom.’ Every time I get anxious about the uncertainty of the future, you say, ‘Why think so much, just be happy now.’” “Ethan, I want a home, and you can’t give it to me.” He was nailed to the spot by my words, his chest heaving, but he couldn’t find the words to refute me. Only the sound of our heavy breathing filled the room. I looked at this man I had loved for three years. His carefree and unrestrained nature, which had once captivated me, now seemed like nothing more than a willful refusal to grow up. I turned my head and saw his packed suitcase in the corner. My intense emotions suddenly subsided, and I looked at Ethan: “Make a decision.” “Are you going to chase your Northern Lights, or face the utility bills at home with me?” 3 The door closed behind me. Ethan was gone. I stood there numbly for two seconds before finally coming to my senses. I found a lawyer’s number and dialed it. “Hello, I’d like to ask you to draft a divorce agreement for me as soon as possible.” “We have no joint assets, only some debts to divide. As soon as possible, thank you.” Hanging up, the rain outside seemed to fall heavier. Even my own breathing became hot and rapid. It might have been from getting rained on outside the supermarket earlier, or it might have been the physical reaction to the emotional rollercoaster. I dragged my heavy steps back to the bedroom. I took my temperature: 101.3 degrees Fahrenheit. I was running a fever. I rummaged around for a long time and only found one expired fever-reducing pill in the house. But I couldn’t care less; I swallowed it with cold water, praying the fever would be gone when I woke up. But the situation was much worse than I thought. In the middle of the night, I was awakened by the pain all over my body. It felt like a volcano was erupting inside me. I couldn’t go on like this. Yet, delirious with fever, my instinctive reaction was to reach out to Ethan for help. Beep. Beep. Beep. It wasn’t until the busy signal sounded for the third time that my foggy brain finally realized: Ethan should be on a plane to Iceland right now. How could he answer the phone? I let out a dry laugh, which made my throat hurt even more. Laughing at how fever-addled I must be to still rely on him. I thought of my colleagues instead. Even though I hated bothering others, in this situation, I had to swallow my pride. But the voice from the receiver was a cold, mechanical prompt: “Sorry, your service has been suspended due to unpaid bills. Please recharge as soon as possible to restore service.” Suspended? I wanted to recharge, so I clicked into the payment page. But where could the money be deducted from? Our account only had $0.41 left. I couldn’t even afford the cheapest mobile plan. Phone service and internet are tied together. If the phone is suspended, that means the internet is gone too. I couldn’t even send out a cry for help. I had to save myself. Fortunately, the offline map still worked. I squinted, searching painstakingly, and found the nearest 24-hour clinic was three miles away. If I drove, it wouldn’t be too far. I struggled to the garage and turned on the light. Empty. Only then did I sluggishly remember that Ethan had taken the car to be modded yesterday. At the time, I suggested renting a car just in case, since we lived in the suburbs and transportation was inconvenient. Ethan immediately shook his head: “The bus stop and subway are right outside, why waste the money? I’m just changing the exhaust pipe, they’re really fast, I’ll be able to drive it back tomorrow.” “What could possibly happen? Stop worrying about useless things.” But now there was no car. I stood there, freezing cold, unable to even stand steady. If my fever continued, I might just die at home. No. I had to go to the hospital. Using all my strength, I dug out the thickest down jacket from my closet, put on two pairs of pants, pulled my socks high, and haphazardly wrapped a scarf around my neck, mouth, and nose, trying to trap whatever little heat I had left. I couldn’t hold an umbrella, so I put on a raincoat. Pushing open the door, Seattle at 3:30 AM felt like a massive, damp, freezing refrigerator. The cold pierced to the bone, and every step I took felt like walking on clouds, my head spinning. I kept my head down and walked, not daring to stop. Suddenly, several pairs of dirty shoes stopped in front of me, blocking my path. I slowly raised my head. It was three men. They were soaked, radiating a strong, pungent stench of alcohol mixed with tobacco. They grinned at me lewdly, practically vibrating with excitement. I instantly knew something was wrong. I turned to run, but one of the men grabbed me and yanked the hood of my raincoat off. “Dressed so warmly… hiding something good under there?” I let out a hoarse scream. “No… get away!” But two of them were already dragging me, pulling me toward the darker woods nearby. 4 Freezing rainwater poured down the back of my neck, but I no longer cared about shivering. I struggled with everything I had, but my sick body was no match for the strength of three adult men. The raincoat was torn out of shape, and the foul, hot breath of the men enveloped me. “Help—!” In the end, I couldn’t help but scream shrilly in Chinese. I knew it was useless, but I was so terrified. They let out harsh, grating laughs, as if my fear was part of the entertainment. I was shoved, my back slamming against a cold, wet tree trunk, and a heavy body pressed against me. Breath reeking of alcohol sprayed on my face. One hand covered my mouth, while the other began tearing at my clothes haphazardly, reaching inside… The world narrowed down to the twisted faces before my eyes and the disgusting jeers in my ears. Bang! A gunshot rang out. Bang! Bang! Two more shots. My hand holding the gun was trembling. I am not Ethan; I loathe taking risks. That’s why I always had the habit of carrying a concealed handgun whenever I went out. Two shots missed, only grazing the oversized jacket of the man in front of me. The last shot hit a leg. “Get out!” “Or you all die right here!” The three men were terrified by my ruthlessness and scrambled away, disappearing deep into the woods. I leaned against the tree trunk, my eyes locked on the direction they vanished. Only when I was certain there were no more sounds did I struggle to pick up the clothes that had been torn off me from the ground. Ignoring how dirty they were, I forced them back onto my body, pulled on the raincoat, and kept walking. I don’t know how long it passed before I finally reached the hospital. I stumbled toward the front desk. “Help… me.” The nurse on duty looked as if she had seen many people like me. Expressionlessly, she handed me a form: “The initial fee for emergency assistance is $200. How will you be paying?” I instinctively reached for my wallet. It was gone. Probably snatched by those animals while I was struggling. I could only clench my fingers tightly and ask: “I just want a box of cold medicine, the kind that reduces fever.” The nurse looked at me, unmoving. Instead, she asked: “Basic fever reducer, $1. Cash or card?” $1? But I couldn’t even pull out $1. All I had to my name was the $0.41 Ethan had left behind. The nurse waited quietly for a few seconds, her gaze sweeping over my pathetic state. As if understanding something, she nodded toward a specific direction. “See that door with the blue light? Legal plasma donation center. Open 24 hours.” “Ma’am, you can sell some blood for money.” She paused, her gaze returning to my face. As if assessing me: “Not only enough to buy this medicine, but you might even be able to pay off a chunk of whatever credit card debt you have.” I didn’t want to sell my blood. But I wanted to live, so I had to. The needle pierced my skin, and I watched the blood flow quickly through the plastic tube into the collection bag. The first bag was full, and the machine beeped. I opened my mouth, uttering a weak sound: “Enough, stop. I’m only selling this much!” “I feel terrible!” No one answered me. The nurse forcefully pushed me back down and swapped in another empty bag. “Relax, ma’am. Your vitals are good, you can donate more.” “We will compensate you generously. A full $500!” The second bag of blood was also filling rapidly. The edges of my vision darkened, and the sounds around me grew distant. I felt like I was going to die right there. It wasn’t until the second bag was full that the nurse’s voice sounded like it was coming from far away: “Alright, the money has been deposited into your account.” With the money, I finally received treatment. The day I was discharged from the hospital and returned home, Ethan also concluded his trip to Iceland. He pushed the door open excitedly, holding a large paper bag from a department store. Inside was exactly the pot I had asked him to buy before. Ethan didn’t even notice my sickly state. He presented the pot to me like a precious treasure. “Babe, look! The pot you wanted!” “Let’s not fight anymore, okay? Strangely enough, when I got off the plane, I saw there were a few hundred extra dollars in my account. It must be my overtime pay coming in early.” “So I immediately thought of buying the pot for you, to make up for my mistake!” I looked at Ethan’s face, completely devoid of any gloom, even looking for praise. A wave of overwhelming nausea churned in my stomach. I raised my hand and threw the hospital receipts right in his face: “Ethan, do you know why there was a few hundred extra dollars?” “That’s because I sold my blood.”

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Someone on the street was begging for a dollar to buy food. I told my mom it was a scam. But she said, “Who would sell their dignity for a single dollar?” Frustration flared inside me. “But years ago, for just a dollar, you made me kneel for a whole day and night!” “Was my dignity not dignity?!” She snapped her head up to glare at me. “You? You think you even deserve to talk about dignity?!” 1 “Besides, you deserved every bit of it!” “You scored a 95 on a math test instead of a 100, and you actually had the nerve to ask me for a dollar?!” “You? You think you even deserve to talk about dignity?!” Even though it had been over a decade. Even though she had played the role of a loving mother in front of me for years. The moment it was brought up, her teeth ground with pure hatred. That bitter, mean face she had hidden for so long was instantly exposed. She said, “You’re lucky I didn’t strip you naked and make you kneel outside the front door! What right do you have to talk to me about dignity?!” “If you truly understood dignity, you wouldn’t have just gone to some mediocre college, found such a trash job, and brought home such a pathetic excuse for a salary every month! You’ve made it so I can’t even hold my head up in front of our relatives!” Her voice grew louder and louder, as if she wished everyone on the street would stop and watch me be humiliated. Yet, just moments before this, we had looked like the perfect picture of a loving mother and a filial daughter, holding hands and chatting happily while shopping. I had even secretly bought the gold bracelet she had been talking about for ages. I planned to surprise her with it on her birthday in a few days, to make her happy. The sudden shift happened simply because— She saw someone on the street begging on their knees for a dollar to buy food, and eagerly rushed over to give them money. And all I did was quietly whisper to her that it was a scam, telling her not to fall for it. She instantly swatted my hand away, frowned, and asked me, “Do you think I’m an idiot?” “They’re dressed cleanly! Who would sell their dignity for just a dollar?!” Hearing that, I don’t know what came over me. It just reminded me of the time, years ago, when she made me kneel for a day and a night over a single dollar! I can’t even remember why I needed that dollar, but I will never forget the humiliation for the rest of my life! She just sat on the sofa, humming a tune and holding a stick, staring at me. If I so much as moved a muscle, she would swing the stick at me. She made me kneel for a full 24 hours. No food, no water, and no bathroom breaks. And because I couldn’t hold it, I peed all over the floor… She then ordered me to take off my clothes and use them to wipe the floor clean. Even now, over a decade later, thinking about it still fills me with sorrow and burning shame. But she just had to add one more sentence. “You think everyone is like you? Willing to throw away all their shame for a few bucks?” Hearing that, I froze, my face burning as if slapped. I instinctively fired back: “So you do remember making me kneel for a day and a night over a dollar, and even beating me again after I couldn’t hold it and peed the floor.” “Did you think my dignity wasn’t dignity back then?” But who could have predicted that this one sentence would instantly enrage her. She blurted out, “You don’t have any damn dignity!” 2 That single sentence snapped me right back to my childhood. Even the hairs on my arms stood up. Yet, while she was cursing me, she pulled out a ten-dollar bill. In an instant, she switched back to the persona of a compassionate, loving mother. She crouched down and pressed it into the person’s hand. She said to that stranger the exact words I had desperately hoped to hear her say to me countless times when I was little. She said, “Here, child, take this! Go get yourself a good meal! I believe you’re not a scammer!” But when she looked back up at me, her eyes were bloodshot with rage. I was supposedly her closest family, yet her malice toward me was greater than toward anyone else. She knew exactly what words would cut me the deepest. She stared at me, enunciating every word: “Unlike you, you ungrateful wretch! If I had known, I would have listened to your grandmother and drowned you in the toilet the day you were born!” “What use is there in raising you? You selfish brat! You never think of me when you get anything good! I wish I could travel back in time and strangle you!” I trembled, my eyes suddenly stinging, feeling an overwhelming sense of injustice. How do I never think of her? I worked so hard to save up a few thousand dollars, and just because she kept complaining about how other people had gold bracelets and she didn’t, I bit the bullet and bought one for her! Even though I hadn’t given it to her yet, she was in my heart. I had just prepared a surprise for her, and she says she wishes she had strangled me! When I grew up, I did think about escaping my toxic family. But ever since I graduated and started working, it was like she suddenly became a different person. She put away that aggressive, demeaning demeanor that had to criticize and humiliate me at every turn. She started showing concern for me, started remembering what kinds of food I liked. In the past, she never gave me red envelopes for the Lunar New Year. Now, she would send me red envelopes for the New Year and my birthday. She would even buy me some of the things I desperately wanted when I was little. Even though I didn’t want those things anymore, she kept buying them and putting them in my room, one after another. Occasionally, when we talked about the past, she would cry bitterly, saying it was her first time being a mother, that she didn’t do a good job, and asking me to be understanding and forgiving. She would also talk about how my dad just walked out, leaving her alone to raise me, facing so many hardships and so many judging eyes. After slapping me countless times, she finally gave me a piece of candy once I started working. And unconsciously, swayed by her fake repentance and tears, I found myself forced into playing the role of the loving mother and dutiful daughter. Simply because I had never experienced these things before. So much so that when she gave me just a tiny taste of sweetness, I thought she was giving me all her love. Until today, when she humiliated me over a single dollar once again. I suddenly snapped out of this self-deceiving lie— She hadn’t changed at all. No matter how well she disguised it, she was still the person who didn’t respect me, who didn’t love me. No matter how sweet that candy was, it was laced with poison. The facade of a loving mother and filial daughter we had maintained for years felt like a complete joke in this moment. Seeing the crowd of onlookers growing larger, my first instinct was to leave. “I don’t want to fight with you here. Let’s talk about this when we get home!” Seeing me turn to leave, she grabbed me tight. “You’ve always been like this! Always trying to run away when things happen! Don’t even think about leaving today until you make this clear!” “Tell me! What does it matter to you if I give someone a dollar out of kindness?” “Don’t think I don’t know! While I was in the bathroom earlier, you spent thousands buying yourself a gold bracelet!” “I’ve lived for decades and still haven’t worn a gold bracelet. You’re so young, what right do you have to secretly buy one for yourself?!” “Besides, did I say anything about you spending thousands? I spend a single dollar, and you give me this kind of attitude?!” In a flash, it all made sense! I finally understood. So this was the root of it all! 3 It turned out she didn’t explode in anger because I warned her about a scam. It was because she saw me buy that gold bracelet. She saw me sneakily tuck it into my pocket and mistakenly assumed I was secretly buying it for myself. Suddenly, my desire to give her a birthday surprise felt utterly laughable. Because she was selfish, she naturally assumed I was just as selfish. Things she had never possessed, she would absolutely forbid me from possessing first. Even if I earned the money myself and bought it myself, she still felt I didn’t deserve it. Because she saw me hide it, she deliberately started picking a fight. Deliberately bringing up the humiliation that dollar caused me years ago. Deliberately baiting me into bringing up the past, only to pin all the blame on me. To force me to lower my head, offer up the gold bracelet with both hands, and apologize to her. The realization sent a chill down my spine. I had to admit the truth— My mother didn’t love me at all. In fact, she was full of jealousy and calculation toward me. But the more she wanted it, the more determined I was not to give it to her! I tugged at the corner of my mouth, done indulging her. “Who exactly is giving who attitude?” I said. “Haven’t you always been the one throwing attitude for no reason?” “If you want…” Before I could finish, she suddenly raised her hand. The sound of a slap made me instinctively turn my head. But the slap didn’t land on my face. Like a madwoman, she slapped herself twice, screaming with a tearful voice. “It’s me! It’s me, your old mother, giving you attitude, okay?!” “It’s my fault! I was wrong! I shouldn’t have spent a dollar to show some kindness, okay?!” “Chloe! I am your mother, and I’m apologizing to you, is that enough?!” Me: “…” I never in a million years expected her to pull this stunt. I stood there frozen, at a loss for what to do. Someone from the crowd stepped forward to persuade me: “Let it go, let it go. It’s just a dollar. Why force your mother into this state?” “Besides, you shouldn’t be so absolute. It’s just a few bucks. What if the person isn’t a scammer?” “Your mother is so kind-hearted. Aren’t you afraid of being struck by lightning for forcing her to slap herself?” “And another thing, do you know how hard it was for your mother to raise you? Forget the dollar, I think you should give that gold bracelet you bought to your mother!” Listening to these moral kidnappings, a hint of smugness flashed across my mother’s face. Everyone thought this was about a single dollar. Only I knew it wasn’t about the dollar at all. But I couldn’t defend myself. For the first time, I deeply understood the weight of the saying: “Don’t urge others to be forgiving when you haven’t suffered their pain.” I felt humiliated and furious. But my mother gripped me tightly. Those narrow eyes were filled with calculation. She raised an eyebrow and glared at me. “Chloe, don’t you think you’re being selfish?” “I raised you, and you treat me like a fool, right? You buy a bracelet behind my back, yet I have to endure your attitude over spending a single dollar! By what right?” “If you don’t give me an explanation today, I will spill all your dirty secrets right in front of all these people!” Hearing that threat, a cold shiver ran through my body. 4 I quickly ran through all my “so-called” dirty secrets in my mind. When I got my period for the first time and stained my pants, she made me stand downstairs with bare legs, shivering in the cold, drawing points and stares from a crowd. When I first started developing, because my chest was slightly noticeable, people at school called me a slut and a tramp. When she found out, not only did she refuse to buy me a training bra, she called me a troublemaker. I secretly cut up old clothes to make two small tank tops to wear. When she found out, she cursed me out, saying I was trying every trick in the book to seduce men at such a young age. … Things like this were too numerous to count. Even worse, at every family gathering, she would tell these “dirty secrets” as jokes to others. The more embarrassed and humiliated I felt, the more excited she became. When I hid away to cry, she would stand nearby, unconsciously humming a tune and laughing. After laughing, she would say, “Heh, you’re the one acting cheap, but you won’t let people talk about it?” She was bringing up the past today. When it came down to it, she just wanted the bracelet in my hand! And not only that, she wanted me to put it on her with immense gratitude, making a huge spectacle of thanking her for raising me. Otherwise, this wasn’t going to blow over! As my thoughts returned to the present, the crowd of onlookers had grown even larger. Only the scammer who had begged for a dollar quietly folded up his cardboard sign and slipped away. But no one cared if he was a scammer anymore. The onlookers didn’t care who was right or wrong. They just wanted a show, or to record a video and post it online, hoping it would go viral. And my mother only wanted the bracelet in my hand. She wanted it, but refused to just ask for it directly. She had to orchestrate this entire scene to force me to offer it up willingly. Seeing my long silence, a hint of threat and smugness touched the corners of her eyes. “Chloe, I am your mother! Do you think I can’t handle you?” “If you don’t show some proper attitude and apologize to me today, this isn’t over!” Right. In her eyes, I was just a marionette she could mold and manipulate however she pleased. She counted on my soft personality and fear of losing face. She was also certain I wouldn’t dare make a scene with her in front of so many people. Indeed, based on my past behavior. I would compromise. I would go along with her wishes to make the situation pass quickly. I would continue to maintain the illusion of a loving mother-daughter relationship in the eyes of others. But she overlooked something. I don’t know exactly when, but her back had slowly begun to stoop. While my spine grew straighter and straighter. All that “face” I used to care about was only because I still considered her my mother. Once I stopped caring… If you can give someone a dollar to show your kindness. I can give someone a gold bracelet to show my kindness. Who isn’t a good Samaritan?

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It started with a birthday gift. I bought one for a female classmate, but not for my sister. My parents decided I was “abnormal.” They called it a deviation. To fix me, they sent me away to Serenity Ridge Academy, a therapeutic boarding school designed to cure “behavioral anomalies” and “difficult cases.” In the first year, I lost a pinky finger because I couldn’t tie my shoes fast enough. I had no one to tell. In the second year, my stomach swelled with a child that never came to be, and then went flat again. In the third year, when my mind finally shattered and I could no longer feel fear, pain, or hope… That was when Mom and Dad finally remembered to come pick me up. 1 My wrists were zip-tied to the metal frame of the bed when the heavy steel door creaked open. The sudden flood of light made me flinch, my body curling into a defensive ball before my brain could even process who was there. “I’m good. I won’t run. Please don’t hit me. Please.” Mr. Henderson, the program director, yanked me up from the floor. His face, usually a mask of indifference, twisted into a performative grin. “It’s your lucky day, Hollis. Your family finally remembered you exist.” He leaned in close, his breath smelling of stale coffee and mints. “You know the drill. You know what to say, and more importantly, what not to say. You know the consequences.” I nodded numbly, hiding my trembling hands behind my back. “I know. I’ll be… I’ll be good. I won’t say the bad things.” My voice was a ruin. A harsh, gravelly rasp. The result of the time they forced me to swallow industrial cleaner. Talking hurt, but silence hurt more. They hosed me down and shoved me into clean clothes. Then, the moment I had dreamed of a thousand times happened. The iron gates buzzed open. The sky was violently blue, so bright it made my eyes water. Mom and Dad were standing by the Range Rover. My older brother, Gary, and my twin sister, Piper, were there too. Seeing Piper—seeing the face that was identical to mine but unmarred by hell—made bile rise in my throat. For three years, I had been forced to look in a mirror and call myself filthy. Looking at her was like looking at a pristine version of my own ghost. I averted my gaze, digging my fingernails into my wrist to ground myself. I stepped forward, head bowed, shoulders slumped. “Mom. Dad. Gary.” Dad frowned, checking his watch. “Your sister came all this way to get you, too. Look at her, Hollis.” Piper crossed her arms, letting out a dramatic huff. “I knew she still hated me. I literally gave up my spot in the front seat for you, Hollis. What more do you want?” We were twins. Born on the same day. But because I emerged minutes earlier, I was the older sister. I was the one expected to yield, to sacrifice, to fade into the background so she could shine. Gary’s voice was stern, the voice of a man used to giving orders. “Three years, Hollis. Haven’t you learned how to behave yet?” My body went rigid. Muscle memory took over. “Present. I’m listening. I learned. I’m good now.” Serenity Ridge had strict rules. Year one: I was ten seconds late tying my laces. They took my finger with a cigar cutter. Year two: I tried to swallow pills to end it. They pumped my stomach with toilet bowl cleaner. That’s why I sound like this. Year three: I used a rusted piece of metal to open my veins. I bled all over the linoleum. My reward was solitary confinement. Hands bound behind my back. Darkness. Beatings. There was no escape from hell. Dad seemed satisfied with my submission. “Good. Looks like the program worked. The rehabilitation was a success.” He paused, a warning in his eyes. “No bullying your sister from now on.” I didn’t defend myself. “I’ll be good. I’ll listen.” Those were the only words that mattered inside. Mom looked at me, her eyes glistening with a performative kind of maternal warmth. “Okay, that’s enough. The counselors say Hollis has made great progress. We booked a table at Le Jardin to celebrate. Let’s go.” I tucked my left hand deeper into my sleeve to hide the missing digit and followed them into the car. The restaurant was elegant. The table was filled with delicate, expensive dishes I hadn’t seen in years. At the Ridge, we didn’t use utensils. Utensils were weapons. Most days, we ate with our hands. Sometimes, for punishment, we ate off the floor like dogs. “Hollis,” Mom said as the appetizers arrived. “It’s your birthday today. What do you want?” Was it? I had lost track of time. I squeezed my hands together under the table. “Will Dad… send me back?” Dad straightened his blazer, exuding the authority of the patriarch. “The director says you’ve improved, but we’re on a probation period. Piper is fragile, you know that. As long as you listen and put her first, I won’t send you back. For now.” The counselors did home visits. If the parents complained—if they said, this child is not fixed—the van would come back. I had seen girls return. The punishment for a “failed release” was worse than death. I forced the corners of my mouth up. It felt like stretching old leather. “Thank you, Dad.” “We drove all the way out here on your birthday,” Dad said, sounding proud of his benevolence. “I hope you understand that everything we did these past three years… it was for your own good. It was tough love.” “I know,” I whispered. “Alright, eat,” Mom said. Dad picked up his fork. I mimicked him. I reached for the heavy silver chopsticks—Le Jardin was fusion—trying to reclaim some shred of human dignity. But my fingers wouldn’t cooperate. The nerves were shot. My hand shook violently. Clatter. Clatter. The chopsticks hit the porcelain bowl. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet restaurant. Dad tolerated it for ten seconds before slamming his own utensils down. “Are you doing this on purpose? Are you still resenting me?” 2 I shot up from my chair. “Report! No, sir.” “Then why aren’t you eating?” In a split second, the restaurant dissolved. I was back in the Mess Hall. The concrete floor. The smell of mildew. Mr. Henderson ordering me to eat the vomit I’d just expelled. I won’t. Then you kneel until you do. Hunger strikes meant beatings. Solitary meant three days without water. No one holds out forever. In the end, you kneel. You eat like a dog. Fear hijacked my brain. Survival instinct kicked in. I grabbed the food from my plate with my bare hands and shoved it into my mouth. The beautifully plated sea bass. The garnish. The rice. I didn’t taste any of it. It was ash. But I had to eat. I had to show them I was compliant. I crammed it in until my cheeks bulged, grease smearing my face. “Hollis, stop! You’re scaring people!” Mom hissed. Dad’s face turned purple. “Enough! You look like an animal. Sit down and use your utensils!” “Yes, sir.” I swallowed the lump in my throat and sat back down. I had consumed enough calories to function. In the Ridge, if you ate too slow, the others starved. I sat perfectly still, eyes fixed on the middle distance. Mom ladled some soup into a bowl for me. “Here. Have some broth. It’s good for you.” “I’m full,” I said mechanically. “Thank you, Mother.” Mom’s hand paused in mid-air. She looked at me, and for a second, a flicker of something unsettled crossed her eyes. I used to cry for her. I used to scream her name in my sleep. Now, I felt nothing. Looking at them was like looking at mannequins in a store window. They were talking, laughing, playing the perfect family. I felt like I was watching them through a pane of thick, dirty glass. I stopped trying to decode their conversation. I retreated into the safety of my own mind. I don’t remember the drive home. When I got to my old room, I laid on the bed. The mattress was too soft. It felt wrong. I felt exposed. I grabbed the duvet and dragged it into the corner of the room, wedging myself between the nightstand and the wall. The pressure against my back felt like safety. A knock at the door. I scrambled up. It was Mom. She looked guilty. “Hollis… I have a gift for you, too. Tell Mom, what do you want? Anything.” “Okay. Give everything to Piper.” She looked into my eyes. I knew what she saw. A dead thing. Hollow. “I’m asking what you want, sweetheart.” I thought about it. I wanted that jagged piece of metal again. I wanted to sink to the bottom of the bathtub and inhale the water. I wanted to know if a knife sliding between my ribs would finally make me feel something. I wanted to unmake myself. “Staying home,” I rasped. “Staying home is fine.” “Okay… sure. Whatever you want.” She looked disturbed. But I didn’t move. I stood at attention, waiting for the command to be at ease. Disobedience meant the Chair. “Hollis, you’re home now. You don’t have to be so… stiff.” “Yes, ma’am.” She left. I waited a full ten minutes before I silently closed the door. I went back to my corner, curled up in the duvet, and hugged my knees. I dreamed of my nineteenth birthday. A girl in my chemistry class had given me a sketchbook. It was handmade. Piper wanted it. I always gave Piper everything. But not that. That was mine. Piper ran to Mom and Dad. She twisted the story. She said I was obsessed with the girl. That I was writing love letters. The argument exploded. The box fell. A letter fell out—one the girl had written, confessing a crush I didn’t even know about. Mom and Dad didn’t listen. They saw “lesbian.” They saw “abnormal.” They saw a threat to the family image. We need to fix her before she humiliates us. They sent the goons that night. In the dream, I was back in the Reflection Room. They laughed at me while they strapped me down. “Thought you didn’t like men, huh?” “Let’s see if we can change that.” I woke up screaming, but no sound came out. The room was dark. I stood up and looked in the vanity mirror. My face shifted. It wasn’t me. It was the girl who died from the drain cleaner, her liver burned out. It was the boy whose arm they broke. Then it became Mr. Henderson. Then the other instructors. They were coming out of the glass. Smash. My fist went through the mirror before I realized I’d moved. The hallucination shattered. Blood dripped from my knuckles onto the vanity. The pain was sharp, electric. My heart hammered against my ribs. The shards of glass lay on the table like diamonds. A voice in my head—sweet, seductive—whispered: Do it. Pick it up. Open the vein. It ends tonight. I reached for a jagged shard. In the reflection of the broken glass, I saw a figure in the doorway. Gary. He flipped the light switch. “What the hell are you doing?” 3 I dropped the glass. I dropped to my knees, forehead touching the floor. “I didn’t mean to. The mirror… it broke itself. Please. Please don’t touch me.” The noise woke the house. Piper appeared in the doorway, yawning, wearing silk pajamas. “God, Hollis. It’s a reform school, not a gulag. You did online classes and calisthenics. Stop being so dramatic. You’ve been home for six hours and you’re already seeking attention.” She looked annoyed. Bored. I blinked, the adrenaline fading into confusion. “I… I didn’t mean to.” Mom gasped. “Oh my god, look at the blood. Should we call a doctor?” Dad scoffed from the hallway. “No. No doctors. We don’t need a scene.” He turned to Gary. “She’s just adjusting. Gary, deal with it.” “Go back to bed,” Gary said. “Sorry, Gary,” I whispered, hiding my bleeding hand behind my back. “Go sleep. I can… I can handle the cleanup.” Gary frowned. For the first time, his eyes didn’t look angry. They looked… unsettled. “Let me see it.” I kept my hand hidden. Exposure meant vulnerability. Vulnerability meant pain. “Hollis.” His voice had that command tone. I slid off the stool and curled into a ball on the floor. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know I’m wrong.” “Why are you acting like this?” Gary asked, genuinely confused. I looked around. Plush carpet. heavy curtains. I was safe? Or would the broken mirror be the strike that sent me back? I didn’t dare stand up. Gary stepped forward and forcibly took my wrist, pulling my bleeding hand into the light. “Why?” he asked. “Mirror broke. I wanted to see. I fell.” “Why are you talking like that?” Gary asked. “Like a robot?” My brain was buzzing. Static noise. My fingers were trembling so hard I thought they might detach. Gary stared at me. “Does it hurt?” Hurt? Three years. This was the first time anyone had asked me that. Did it? I shook my head. “No pain. Please. Don’t tell Dad.” He sighed, sitting on the floor with me. He fetched the first aid kit and cleaned the shards out of my knuckles. “Next time something breaks, just call me,” he said, wrapping the gauze. “Don’t do it yourself.” Call him? I had called him. I had screamed for him. I had begged for him every night for a thousand nights. He never came. I nodded anyway. When he left, I crawled back into my corner behind the curtains. I stopped coming out. I didn’t feel hungry. My brain felt like it had been unplugged. I could sit by the window and watch the dust motes dance for twelve hours straight. Sometimes they sent food. Sometimes I forced myself to eat, only to vomit it back up. I was broken. Even eating was a skill I had lost. Then, she came back. I saw her standing by the bookshelf. 4 “Hollis! Get it together!” she snapped. “You said when you got out, you were going to finish college. You were going to be somebody.” “Are you really going to let Piper win?” I looked at the books on my shelf. I recognized the letters, but when I tried to read, the words swam away. I couldn’t focus. My brain was damaged. But I couldn’t admit that. Not to her. “Rory,” I whispered. “Did your parents come get you too?” The girl standing by the window rolled her eyes. She was chewing on a lollipop, looking like the tough, cool punk rocker she always was. “You forgot? My parents threw me away years ago.” “Can you… can you stay with me?” She shrugged, trying to look indifferent. “Yeah. Sure.” With Rory there, the house felt less like a tomb. “Are you hungry?” I asked her. She shook her head. Strange. Rory was always hungry. She used to steal bread crusts from the trash. She must be being polite. I went downstairs and asked the housekeeper for two sets of silverware. She looked at me like I was crazy. “Is… does Miss Hollis have a guest?” I nodded. Dinner was awkward. Dad and Gary were home early. Gary stared at the extra place setting I had arranged next to me. He ate the portion I had served for Rory. I opened my mouth to protest, but Rory whispered, “It’s fine. I’m really not hungry.” Good. I wasn’t either. I pushed my plate toward Dad. “Dad. When can I… go back to school?” Dad avoided my eyes. He cut his steak with surgical precision. “There are some paperwork issues. We need to wait.” “Next semester, maybe. It’s too late to enroll now.” They told everyone I was on medical leave. Paperwork took time. I believed him. That night, I woke up in a panic. Rory wasn’t in her spot on the floor. I crept out to the hallway. I heard voices from the study. “What happens if she finds out Piper took her acceptance letter?” Mom whispered. Dad sounded dismissive. “So what? The company is stabilizing under Gary. Worst case, we send Hollis to some community college or ship her overseas.” “Piper needed that start. Hollis is… damaged goods.” “How could she like women? Disgusting. Piper is our future now. We can’t have that kind of scandal.” My admission letter. They gave it to Piper? They erased me. They replaced me. I backed away into the shadows. Rory was there. She handed me a tissue. “Where did you go?” I choked out. “Don’t cry,” she said. She pulled me into a hug. She smelled like rain and ozone. The pain in my chest was unbearable. It felt like my heart was being carved out with a dull spoon. I gasped for air, wheezing like a broken accordion. “Rory… am I dying?” She rubbed my back. “Don’t be scared. I’m right here with you.” 5 I survived the night. When morning came, the pain was gone. In fact, everything felt light. My head was clear. My body felt weightless. I felt… happy. It felt like three years ago. Before the cage. I put on my favorite dress from before—it hung loose on my skeletal frame—and grabbed my purse. “Come on, Rory. Let’s go.” “You always said you wanted to see the ocean.” “The ocean is too far, but there’s the lake. It’s big enough.” I ran into Piper on the stairs. “Who are you talking to?” she asked, wrinkling her nose. I smiled at her. A genuine smile. “Rory.” She looked at me like I was hallucinating, but I didn’t care. Not today. I walked out the door. “Where are you going?” Piper called out. “To see the sea.” “Hollis, you’re insane. We live in Illinois.” I called an Uber to the city center. I bought two ice cream cones. I handed one to Rory. She fumbled it, and it splattered on the sidewalk. I laughed and bought another one. “Don’t drop it this time.” The vendor stared at me. I ate my ice cream. It tasted like vanilla and freedom. I went to a bakery and bought two slices of blueberry cake. Rory’s favorite. I went to the Italian place she always talked about. “I promised I’d treat you if we got out,” I told the empty chair across from me. “I keep my promises.” My bank account was low, so I ordered pasta instead of steak. But we had a feast. We walked past a candy store. I bought orange gummy bears. I bought a pink stuffed bunny from a gift shop. Rory acted tough, but she loved cute things. My arms were full of gifts. Rory couldn’t carry anything. Her hands were injured from that last time in the Reflection Room. I skipped down the street. “You’re twenty-one, Hollis,” Rory teased. “Act your age.” “You act like you’re thirty, Grandma,” I shot back. She laughed. She was a year younger than me. But she had always been the brave one. Sunset. The sky was bleeding crimson. I sat on the edge of the pier at the lake. The sound of the water drowned out the city traffic. I opened a can of soda for her. I laid out the postcard of her favorite band. The wind off the water smelled metallic. “I did it,” I whispered. “Everything I promised.” Rory looked at me. Her eyes were red. They were filled with a terrible, crushing pity. “You promised me you’d live, Hollis.” I took a sip of my soda. The bubbles fizzed on my tongue, but there was no sweetness. “I can’t go to college. Piper took it. There is no future.” My phone buzzed. It was a notification. Rory’s grandmother—the account I had secretly followed—had started a livestream. I opened it. An old woman with white hair was weeping into the camera. “My granddaughter died at Serenity Ridge Academy. Her body was covered in bruises. I am begging the authorities… please investigate.” “Her parents threw her away. But I never gave up on her.” “Her name was Rory Vance.” The soda can slipped from my fingers. Clatter. Fizz. The glare off the lake was blinding. I turned my head slowly to the left. The space beside me was empty. The pain returned. A spear through the lungs. A high-pitched ringing screamed in my ears. My phone rang. It was Piper. “Hollis? I Googled that name. Rory Vance? Hate to break it to you, but she’s dead. Like, months ago.” It was the first time she’d called me by my name without a sneer. “I know.” My voice was calm. I hung up. The dam broke. The memories flooded back. Rory was my only friend. We tried to run. They caught us at the fence. Rory shoved me behind her. The guard swung a piece of rebar. It went through her leg. Infection. Sepsis. They didn’t call a doctor. They threw her in solitary to “cool off.” She died in my arms on the concrete floor. Her last words were: Don’t forget me. My fingers convulsed, gripping the cold stone railing of the pier. I felt like I was breathing through wet cotton. I dug my nails into the stone until they broke. The pain was grounding. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough to silence the screaming in my head. My body moved on its own. I stepped up onto the railing. The dark water churned below. Finally. Silence. I saw her again. Rory. Standing on the water. Pale. Cold. Sad. I leaned forward. A hand grabbed my wrist from behind. A pale hand with a scar shaped like a ruler—the scar she got taking a beating for me. “I’m sorry,” I sobbed, looking at the air behind me. “I failed you.” “Rory, it hurts too much.” “Let me go. Please.” The hand vanished. The grip released. Gravity took me. I fell into the lake like I was falling into her arms. The cold was absolute. The suffocation was a mercy. Hollis, don’t wake up this time.

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Right before New Year’s Eve, my husband and his childhood best friend went backcountry skiing in the Tetons. They were caught in an avalanche. I clawed my way to the emergency room, half-blind with panic, only to find him in the throes of severe hypothermia. Delirious and shivering violently, he mistook me for a triage nurse. He gripped my hand with a desperate, bruising strength, gasping out his dying wish, word by agonizing word. “If I don’t make it… everything in my name. The accounts, the house. All of it goes to Sadie… and her little girl.” In that freezing, sterile room, my heart turned entirely to ash. 1 I stood there, the blood draining from my face, staring at the man I had been married to for five years. I listened to him rewrite the ending of our life together in what he believed were his final, fleeting moments of consciousness. His first thought—his only thought as he stared down death—wasn’t of me. It wasn’t of our four-year-old son. It was of Sadie. The widow of his late best friend. The ER doctor’s voice cut through the ringing in my ears, sharp and confused. “Ma’am? Are you Garrett’s wife?” I nodded. A single, wooden movement. Having confirmed I wasn’t an apparition, the doctor’s tone shifted into rapid-fire clinical detachment. “His core temperature is critically low. We’re rushing him to the ICU to stabilize him. These were found in his jacket. Phone, GoPro. We need you to hold onto his valuables.” After Garrett was wheeled through the swinging double doors, leaving a wake of shouting nurses behind him, I sat in the hard plastic waiting room chair. I unzipped the waterproof case of his GoPro. My fingers were completely numb as I hit play. The screen flickered to life. It was footage from inside a snow cave. The space was claustrophobic, bathed in an eerie, glacial blue light. Garrett and Sadie were huddled together. He had his arms wrapped securely around her, shielding her with his own body, holding her like she was made of spun glass. Over the howling of the wind outside, I heard my husband’s voice. It was a raw, whispered prayer. “God, if this is it, take me. Let me trade my life for hers. Sadie has to live.” A jagged breath. “She has a daughter. Mia is so small. So sweet. She can’t grow up without a mother.” A tear broke free, hot and stinging against my cold cheek, splashing onto the screen. In the space between life and death, he didn’t spare a single thought for his own flesh and blood. He thought of someone else’s child. Our son is only five years old. The pain was visceral—a tightening in my chest so sharp it felt like my ribs were fracturing one by one. I couldn’t breathe. Ever since his best friend, Carter, passed away in a car accident and asked Garrett to “look out for them,” my husband had metamorphosed into a stranger. On our son Miles’s birthday, Garrett was at a theme park, holding Sadie’s purse while she and Mia rode the carousel. On our wedding anniversary, he was under Sadie’s sink, fixing a leaky pipe. Just last month, he attended a father-son field day at Miles’s preschool. The moment he saw Sadie and Mia looking “lost and overwhelmed” across the lawn, he abandoned his own child in the middle of a three-legged race. Miles was the laughingstock of the playground. For the sake of our son, I had swallowed the resentment. I had played the understanding wife. But this? Leaving every dime to a woman who wasn’t his wife? How dare he. Half of everything in our bank accounts was money I had bled for. I built that savings account with late nights and skipped lunches. What gave him the right to hand my livelihood over to another woman as a romantic parting gift? By the time the surgeon emerged from the ICU to tell me Garrett was stable, the foundation of my marriage had already crumbled. I was already planning the demolition. 2 The doctor said it was a miracle they were dug out in time. Garrett was out of the woods, but they needed to keep him under observation for a few days. I stood by his hospital bed and lightly brushed the back of my hand against his forehead. His eyes fluttered open. He blinked against the harsh fluorescent light, and then his gaze found mine. “Sadie?” he croaked, panic lacing his voice. “Is Sadie okay?” I stared down at him, my expression utterly blank. “She was wrapped in your coat, tucked against your chest. Her core temp barely dropped. She’s doing much better than you.” Maybe staring death in the face makes a man delusional, because despite the absolute frost in my voice, Garrett actually chuckled. “Brooke,” he sighed, offering a weak, patronizing smile. “Why do you always have to be so jealous over the smallest things? It was a crisis. I did what I had to do to keep her alive.” I didn’t say a word. I just looked at him. Looked into the eyes of the man I thought I knew. The silence stretched, heavy and suffocating, until Garrett’s smile faltered. A flicker of guilt finally crossed his face. He reached out and caught my hand, stroking my knuckles the way he used to when we were twenty-three and he was trying to coax me out of a bad mood. “Brooke, babe, please don’t overthink this. Sadie is Carter’s widow. I just feel incredibly sorry for them. They’re on their own. The only reason we even went up the mountain was to fulfill Carter’s dying wish—to scatter his ashes from the highest peak.” He squeezed my fingers. “I’m fine, really. I’m just worried about Sadie because…” Right on cue, the door creaked open. Sadie hobbled in, leaning heavily on a nurse. Her condition was, indeed, vastly superior to Garrett’s. Aside from a slight limp from a frostbitten toe, she looked perfectly fragile and devastatingly tragic. The moment she saw Garrett, she gasped, shook off the nurse’s arm, and practically threw herself onto his bed. I, the actual wife, was suddenly relegated to the role of an awkward spectator. “Garrett! Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” Sadie sobbed, burying her face in his hospital gown. “This is all my fault. I was so selfish, insisting we go all the way up for the ashes. I almost got us killed. Do you know what I was thinking when I woke up? I was thinking that if you died trying to save me, I would never, ever forgive myself. I wouldn’t want to live.” “Sades, hey, look at me. Calm down.” Garrett made a half-hearted attempt to gently push her back, but when she clung tighter, he surrendered, letting her weep against his chest. “We made it. We’re okay. Don’t talk like that,” he murmured softly. “Think about Mia. If something happened to you, what would happen to her?” “I know,” she sniffled, looking up at him with wide, tear-filled eyes. “We still have Mia. We have our little girl…” “Excuse me.” I stood up. The legs of my plastic chair scraped violently against the linoleum. “I hate to interrupt this touching cinematic moment, but did you just say our little girl? Are you confessing to sleeping with my husband while Carter was still alive, or did you guys just forget who you’re actually married to?” My voice was a razor blade. Sadie flinched as if I had struck her. She scrambled off Garrett’s chest, suddenly hyper-aware of my presence, and nervously tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Oh! Brooke… I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you standing there,” she stammered, her voice breathless and sweet. “Please don’t be mad. It’s just… ever since Carter passed, Garrett has treated Mia like his own flesh and blood. To Mia, he basically is her father. He fills that void for her.” As she pushed her hair back, my eyes locked onto her wrist. A heavy, unmistakable glint of yellow gold. A Cartier Love bracelet. When Garrett and I first got married, we were broke. We lived on boxed mac and cheese and shared a single beat-up Honda. In the quiet darkness of our first apartment, he used to hold me and promise, “When I make it, Brooke, I’m buying you a heavy gold bangle. Something you can flash in front of all your friends.” Last month, right before Valentine’s Day, I was doing laundry. I pulled that exact Cartier box out of his jacket pocket. I spent the next three days practically glowing, thinking he had finally remembered the promise he made to the twenty-three-year-old girl who married him with nothing. On Valentine’s night, I spent four hours cooking a ridiculously expensive tenderloin dinner. At 9:00 PM, I got a text. He wasn’t coming home. Sadie’s power had gone out, and she was “terrified” of being alone in the dark with Mia. We had a screaming match over the phone that night. I was so angry I never even brought up the bracelet. I assumed he had returned it in a fit of spite. And now, here it was. Resting delicately on Sadie’s wrist. The temperature in the room seemed to drop another ten degrees. 3 Garrett shot me a warning glare. “Brooke, enough. Do not speak to her like that. A woman’s reputation is everything. If you go around saying things like that, how is she supposed to show her face in our friend group?” Hearing him fiercely defend her honor over my legitimate anger was a betrayal so profound it knocked the breath out of me. But I refused to give them the satisfaction of a hysterical wife in a hospital room. Naturally, Sadie seized the opportunity to play the gracious peacemaker. “Garrett, don’t yell at her,” Sadie said, her voice dripping with sickly-sweet empathy. “I’m sure Brooke didn’t mean it. She just loves you so much, she’s feeling a little territorial. I’m a girl’s girl, Brooke. I totally get why you’d be jealous. It’s natural.” Garrett’s expression instantly softened as he looked at Sadie, but when he turned back to me, his eyes were hard with disappointment. I saw right through her. It was a masterful, subtle manipulation. By pretending to defend me, she painted me as the crazy, irrational, jealous wife, while she stood there looking like a saint. “Tell you what, Brooke,” Sadie offered, pulling out her phone. “Let’s exchange numbers. That way, if you ever can’t track Garrett down, you can just text me! He’s usually with us anyway.” He’s usually with us anyway. She delivered the line with the casual confidence of the primary partner. I was the mistress in my own marriage. I pulled out my phone. I didn’t flinch. I let her scan my code. But nothing could have prepared me for the quiet devastation of opening Sadie’s Instagram profile later that night. Her grid was a meticulously curated shrine to their emotional affair. Every post was a breadcrumb of the life they were living behind my back. Garrett had claimed he was just “helping a grieving widow get out of the house.” While I was drowning in the beautiful, exhausting trench of early motherhood, juggling potty training and ear infections, they were chasing the Northern Lights in Alaska. They were drinking hot cocoa in Banff. They were horseback riding through the vast, open plains of Wyoming. There were photos of them cave diving in Mexico. The captions never explicitly said “I love you,” but the way they looked at each other in the water—the absolute, tethered reliance in their eyes—screamed it. I walked back into the hospital room, holding my phone up so the glowing screen faced him. “It looks like you spend significantly more time playing the adventurous boyfriend to your dead best friend’s wife than you do actually being married to me,” I said, my voice dead calm. “Does this look appropriate to you, Garrett?” Garrett sighed, rubbing his temples like I was giving him a migraine. “You know how it is, Brooke. After Carter died, Sadie was completely isolated. She was slipping into a depression. I was just taking her to see the world. Trying to get her mind right.” I closed my eyes. A hollow, desolate wave washed over me. You can never wake a person who is pretending to be asleep. I turned on my heel and walked out of the room without another word. I sat in my car in the hospital parking garage, called my best friend, and asked for the number of the most vicious divorce attorney and private investigator she knew. If we were burning this down, I was making sure the ashes didn’t land in Sadie’s lap. I needed airtight evidence of his financial infidelity. Garrett was going to leave this marriage with the clothes on his back. 4 Garrett was discharged three days later. Miles and I went to pick him up. My five-year-old hadn’t seen his dad in a week, and he practically vibrated with excitement. He clung to Garrett’s leg like a little koala, chattering a mile a minute about kindergarten, dinosaurs, and Lego sets. That night, as Garrett tucked him in, Miles looked up with wide, anxious eyes. “Are you really going to sleep in our house tonight, Daddy? You won’t leave?” My heart broke into a thousand jagged pieces. I understood exactly where that anxiety came from. Half the time Garrett promised to do bedtime, his phone would ring with a “Sadie emergency,” and he would vanish into the night. My son was learning that his father’s love was conditional. Thankfully, Garrett stayed put that night. He stayed until Miles fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. The next morning, as Garrett helped him with his backpack, Miles beamed. “Daddy! Today is the Family Field Day at school. You and Mommy are coming this afternoon, right?” Garrett smiled, brushing a hand through Miles’s hair. “Of course, buddy. I wouldn’t miss it.” Miles jutted out his lower lip, a rare flash of defiance crossing his sweet face. “Promise? Because last time you promised, you went and played with Mia instead. The kids in my class said I don’t even have a real dad.” Garrett froze. The color drained from his face, replaced by a sudden, heavy guilt. He kneeled down so they were eye-to-eye. “Miles, I swear to you. I am going to be there for you today. Just you.” Appeased, Miles skipped out the door to the school bus. After dropping Miles off, Garrett seemed to undergo a miraculous, temporary reset. He was attentive. He did the dishes. He went out to run errands and came back with a box from the expensive bakery downtown—two slices of strawberry shortcake. For a split second, standing in our sunlit kitchen, it felt like we had time-traveled back to the early days of our marriage. Garrett wrapped his arms around my waist from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “I know strawberries are your favorite. Miles gets his sweet tooth from you.” He kissed my temple. “Brooke… I’m so sorry. I know I’ve been neglecting you and Miles lately. I want to fix this.” I almost leaned into him. Almost. Then, his phone buzzed violently on the granite countertop. Garrett let go of me to check the screen. His entire demeanor shifted. The warmth evaporated. “Brooke,” he said, avoiding my gaze. “Sadie says her leg is throbbing really badly. I… I should go check on her.” I looked down at the countertop. “Garrett. Did you secretly go to medical school while we were married?” “What?” He blinked, thrown off by the question. “Are you a doctor?” I asked, looking up at him with dead eyes. “Is looking at her leg going to magically cure it? We have to leave for the school in an hour.” “I’ll be quick.” “And if you don’t make it back in time?” Garrett stood there, paralyzed by his own pathetic indecision. He was actively weighing his son’s heart against Sadie’s phantom pains. Finally, he stepped forward and pressed a hurried kiss to my forehead. “I’ll be right back, Brooke. I swear. If I’m running a few minutes late, just tell Miles I’m on my way.” He grabbed his keys, threw on his jacket, and rushed out the door. I listened to the sound of his truck starting in the driveway. The heavy thud of the front door closing was the sound of the final lock snapping shut on my heart. Whatever lingering softness I had held onto was gone. Without a change in expression, I picked up the box of strawberry shortcake and dropped it straight into the garbage can. I checked my phone. My lawyer had emailed. The PI had struck gold—there was a mountain of financial evidence proving Garrett had been siphoning marital funds to pay for Sadie’s lifestyle. When the papers were filed, I would hold all the cards. I was just grabbing my purse to head to the kindergarten when my phone rang. It was the school. “Mrs. Davis,” the teacher said, her voice tight with panic. “You need to get here right now. Miles just assaulted another student.”

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My electric toothbrush had some unidentified substance stuck to it. I asked around the house, but no one paid me any mind. My younger brother rolled his eyes: “Who would dare use your stuff? You dress like a streetwalker all day, it’s disgusting!” Furious, I secretly coated the bristles with concentrated capsaicin. That night. Screams echoed relentlessly from the bathroom. 01 Just as I was getting ready to brush my teeth. I saw some unidentified substance stuck to the toothbrush head. It was soft and mushy, with suspiciously dark edges. It looked a bit like a rotten piece of chive. Or something else I didn’t even want to think about. I leaned in and took a sniff. A foul stench shot straight to my brain. I couldn’t help but clutch the sink and dry heave several times. This was the third time this month. The first two times, I didn’t think much of it. I thought I just hadn’t rinsed it properly after brushing, and some leftover food had fermented. But today was different. I had just replaced this brush head yesterday after brushing. There was absolutely no way anything could have gotten stuck to it. Unless… Someone had used my toothbrush. And probably. More than once. 02 Clutching the toothbrush, I stormed out of the bathroom. “Which one of you used my toothbrush?” My mom was curled up on the sofa scrolling through her phone, the speaker volume blasting. [CEO, your wife has been banished abroad for three years!] [Does she know she was wrong?] [She has turned over a new leaf, and she gave birth to 12 babies!] My mom was engrossed, a smile on her lips, not even lifting her head. I raised my voice and asked again. My younger brother, Leo, rolled his eyes. “Who would dare use your stuff? It’s disgusting!” The fire in my chest flared up instantly. “Leo, what is that supposed to mean?” He looked up, scanning me from head to toe with a look of pure disdain: “I heard people with dirty diseases get cauliflower-like warts in their mouths. Sis, is that cauliflower on your toothbrush? Hahahaha…” He bent over laughing, thoroughly amusing himself. I was shaking with anger. I gripped the toothbrush handle so tightly it hurt my palm. I wanted to rip that foul mouth of his right off! Just as I took a step forward, Leo nimbly dodged and shrank behind my mom. Poking his head out, he continued hollering: “Ooh, getting defensive! I hit the nail on the head, didn’t I!” His voice grew even louder: “A girl like you, just a year out of college, where do you get all that money? Designer bags, designer clothes… you must have a sugar daddy! Mom, you need to rein her in. She can still fetch a good price while she’s young, but once she’s used goods, she’ll be worthless!” “Leo!” I lunged at him! My mom slammed her phone down onto the sofa with a smack. She grabbed my arm. “What are you doing! Your brother is just worried about you!” I glared at her, my mind buzzing. “Mom, what did you just say?” She avoided my eyes, looking down and fiddling with the hem of her shirt, still muttering. “But really, as a young girl, why dress so fancy? And that phone of yours, I heard it cost over a thousand bucks, and that bag… tell Mom the truth, are you really involved with some old man…” “Mom!” I interrupted her in disbelief. “I stay up late working overtime every day until midnight. This is all my hard-earned money! How can you say that about me?” My mom looked completely unconvinced: “Oh, come on. I’m not the only one saying it. Last time, Mrs. Smith next door asked me if my daughter struck it rich, saying that bag you carry is worth tens of thousands. I was wondering myself, how could a young girl just out of college like you have so much money? If you have that kind of money, why don’t you buy your brother a car? It’s so inconvenient without a car; he’s too embarrassed to take dates out…” She kept rambling on. I couldn’t listen anymore. I understood everything now. Last week, Leo asked me for ten thousand dollars to buy a car, and I didn’t give it to him. His face changed immediately then. He made a bunch of passive-aggressive comments about how my “wings had grown strong” and how I had “forgotten where I came from.” I didn’t take it seriously. I thought he was just throwing a tantrum. Turns out, he was waiting for me here. 03 I cut my mom off: “Leo is your son, not mine. Why should I buy him a car?” As soon as I said that. Leo wasn’t having it. He jumped out from behind my mom, shouting at the top of his lungs: “Because I’m the only male heir of the Lee family! All the money in this family belongs to me! You’re just a money-losing asset who will be married off eventually. You spent the family’s money on your education, so the money you earn should naturally be spent on me!” He tugged on my mom’s hand, shaking it back and forth. “Mom, I told you shouldn’t have let her go to college! Her heart has gone wild! She’s so full of herself she doesn’t even know which way is up, and she even dares to talk back to you! And…” His words got stuck in his throat. Because I picked up the teapot and threw it right in his face. “Ah!” Leo clutched his face, howling like a slaughtered pig. My mom’s face went pale with terror, and she lunged forward screaming. “Chloe Lee! Are you crazy?! That’s hot water!” She squatted down, trying to pry Leo’s hands away. “Son! Let Mom see! How is it! Where are you burned?” “Mom! Kill this bitch! Boo hoo hoo hoo, it hurts so much! My face is ruined!” Leo wailed, clutching his face, crying and cursing at the same time, spitting out obscenities non-stop. I glanced down. His face was indeed red in a patch. But it was a hundred thousand miles away from being “ruined.” At most, it would sting for a while. Looking at the mother and son hugging and howling in front of me. I suddenly felt utterly exhausted. I turned around and walked out. 04 I just wanted to go out and get some fresh air. But a small street stall caught my eye. A red cloth was spread on the ground, displaying a few bottles and jars. Next to it stood a piece of cardboard with crooked writing. But the message was eye-catching: [Homemade concentrated capsaicin, colorless and odorless, extracted from Indian Ghost Peppers. Takes effect in 10 seconds, lasts for 48 hours! A must-have for home defense. A young lady’s best friend for late-night commutes. Money-back guarantee if ineffective.] I stopped in my tracks. The vendor was a guy with bleached blonde hair, wearing a mask, squatting there scrolling on his phone. When he looked up and saw me, his eyes lit up. “Hey beautiful, this is my latest invention—the ‘Scream at First Touch’ concentrated capsaicin. Want to take a look?” I didn’t say a word, just stared at the bottles. He continued: “Look, you’re so pretty. You definitely get harassed by creeps on your way home from work at night, right? Keep a bottle on you, and if anyone dares to get handsy, you just spray them! I guarantee they’ll be screaming in agony right then and there. They’ll be avoiding women for the next 48 hours.” “Is it spicy enough?” Hearing this, the blonde guy got excited. “I’m not bragging, I extracted this stuff myself. Three pounds of ghost peppers went into this tiny bottle.” He pulled down his mask, leaned in closer, and pointed at his mouth: “Look! I’m the best proof!” I gasped. That wasn’t a mouth. They clearly looked like two sausages. He tried to grin, stretching his lips, but the pain made the corner of his mouth twitch, and he quickly closed it. “I accidentally touched it a couple of days ago, just a tiny bit. That night, it blew up like this. I couldn’t even speak clearly. I had to eat with a straw and wait for water to cool down before sipping it slowly. It’s been over two days, and the swelling hasn’t gone down.” There was actually a hint of pride in his eyes. “And you can’t wash it off. Plain water is useless; the more you wash, the spicier it gets. I tried, and I almost had to call an ambulance.” I was silent for a few seconds. “Give me a bottle.” The blonde guy quickly packed it up for me. “Beautiful, you gotta be extremely careful.” He suddenly became serious. “Don’t get it on your hands. If you do, don’t rub your eyes, don’t touch your mouth. Wash it with cooking oil. Remember, cooking oil! Nothing else works!” The liquid in the small bottle was transparent, looking no different from water. Was this stuff really that magical? I had some doubts. I walked a few steps and couldn’t help but look back. Maybe the blonde guy was chased away by city management. The stall was gone. The person was gone too. It was as if he had never appeared. 05 As soon as I reached the front door, I heard voices coming from inside. My mom wasn’t home. Leo’s bedroom door was slightly ajar. He was on the phone, his tone filled with uncontrollable smugness. “Absolutely real! I shot them myself. Showering, changing clothes, going to the bathroom, I have it all. “My sister’s body… she’s really pale, and she’s got curves where it counts. Transfer me 80 bucks first, I’ve got even juicier stuff coming.” I froze in my tracks. “Okay, okay, I’ll send you a screenshot as a teaser. Just wait!” It was quiet inside for two seconds. He was probably sending the picture. His voice rang out again, even more smug. “Sent it, did you see? You can just send 50 first, there’s bathroom footage coming up. “If you want to see it live, that works too, hehe. Book an appointment in advance, and I’ll set it up for you when the time comes.” “…” I couldn’t hear the rest. My ears were ringing. I just felt all the blood in my body rushing to my head. I don’t know how I walked away. By the time I came back to my senses, I was standing at the bathroom door. I reached behind me and locked the door. My gaze slowly swept over every corner. It finally landed on the power strip next to the sink. A very ordinary power strip, with six outlets. The charging base for my electric toothbrush was plugged into it. I stood here washing my face every day and had never looked at it closely. But today, I saw it. The edge of the power strip had a black plastic border. On that border, there was a tiny hole, barely bigger than a pinprick. I pried open the border of the power strip. It wasn’t clipped very tightly, it popped open easily. Stuffed inside was a black object. Smaller than a fingernail, round, like a button. It was a pinhole camera. 06 I turned on my phone. I took a picture of the tiny text on the camera and searched it online. Found it. A cheap brand. Simple functionality. The memory card was inserted on the side. I just needed to take it out to export the videos. 07 I connected the memory card to my laptop. A folder popped up. Inside were dozens of video files arranged neatly, named by date. The earliest one was from twenty-three days ago. That was the first day I moved back home. I randomly clicked on one. The image was a bit blurry through the steam, but the key areas were fully visible. It was a video of me taking a shower. I scrolled down. My finger suddenly stopped. The newest video, the timestamp showed 2:08 AM today. I clicked on it. The image showed Leo. He walked straight to my toothbrush cup, picked up my electric toothbrush, squeezed on some toothpaste… And then, he reached into his pants. I stiffened like I had been struck by lightning. On the screen, Leo had his back to the camera, adjusting the angle. He turned on the deep clean mode on the toothbrush. [Bzzzzzzzz—] The video ended. I gripped the mouse, my hand shaking so hard I couldn’t hold it steady. Animal. Pervert. The toothbrush I used every day to brush my teeth. Was used by him to… That stuff stuck on it was… Just thinking about that possibility. My stomach churned violently. 08 Ten minutes later. I finally caught my breath. Leo, you like sneaking a use of my toothbrush, do you? Fine. Then I’ll grant your wish! I put on two pairs of rubber gloves and safety goggles. I took out the bottle of concentrated capsaicin. I soaked the toothbrush head in it. Half an hour later, I took it out. I used a hair dryer to slowly dry the bristles. Making sure every single bristle was coated in capsaicin. Then I unscrewed the cap of my toothpaste and poured the rest of the capsaicin entirely into it. I used a toothpick to stir it, mixing it evenly. I wiped the cap and the opening of the tube clean, making sure not to leave any fingerprints. After finishing all this. I put everything back in the bathroom. I also shoved the camera back into the power strip. Everything was back in its place. 09 Evening. My mom’s boyfriend, David, arrived. Carrying bags big and small, he was smiling so hard his face looked like a blooming chrysanthemum the moment he stepped through the door. My mom poked her head out of the kitchen, her face beaming. “David, you’re here! Sit down, sit down! You’re just in time for dinner!” She brought out the last dish. Spicy and sour pork intestines, swimming in red chili oil, with a towering pile of chilies on top. I glanced at the dining table. Boiled fish slices, spicy crab, spicy chicken, Mapo tofu, tiger skin green peppers… It was like chili peppers were free. My mom set the dish down and called out. “David, come sit! Leo, sit next to your Uncle David!” David sat down next to Leo. He rested his hand on Leo’s shoulder, slowly sliding it down. I glanced down. His foot was secretly rubbing against Leo’s calf. Leo’s ears turned red. David’s grin grew even wider. “Leo, haven’t seen you in a few days, how come you’ve gotten even more handsome? Let Uncle take a good look.” My mom noticed absolutely nothing. She kept piling food into David’s bowl. “David, I specially made your favorite hometown dishes. Tell me, are they authentic?” David picked up a piece of intestine, put it in his mouth, and chewed loudly. “This intestine is fantastic.” He smacked his lips, his eyes drifting towards Leo. “Crispy, fragrant, and it bursts with juice when you bite into it.” He picked up another piece with his chopsticks and put it into Leo’s bowl. “Leo, you eat some too, nourish yourself.” Leo’s face turned even redder. He kept his head down, coyly putting it into his mouth. He chewed very slowly. The tips of his ears were red enough to bleed. My mom’s face was full of maternal love: “This kid, why is he so shy today? Uncle David isn’t a stranger.” I sneered inwardly. Yes. Uncle David was definitely not a stranger. He was practically an insider. I just didn’t know who had the bigger number.

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I slept with the Supreme Commander of the Federation. My goal was to borrow his S-class pheromones to cure my genetic disease. After the treatment, I ran, casually leaving a single coin on his nightstand. It was an acknowledgment of his… services. I thought my plan was flawless. Until three months later, I was pinned to the ground while buying suppressants in the black market. Arthur pressed his gun against the back of my head, his tone freezing cold: “Finally caught you.” “Ethan, I was very dissatisfied with that one-dollar tip you left that night.” I instinctively shielded my stomach. No other reason. Just that this “job” had resulted in a little surprise. 1 When Arthur caught me, I was throwing up. Leaning against the filthy wall of the black market, I was retching so hard I thought I’d bring up bile. Being pregnant… this whole thing was way too out of bounds for a guy who had been an Alpha for twenty-six years. I should have just stabbed Arthur that night instead of getting soft-hearted and merely using him as an antidote. “Are you done throwing up?” A voice as cold as ice came from above. My spine stiffened. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. That pheromone scent, like frozen earth after a blizzard—there was no second person in the entire Federation with it. Arthur. The Supreme Commander of the Federation, an S-class Alpha known as the “Mad Dog.” He was also my former partner and my current mortal enemy. I wiped my mouth, slowly stood up straight, turned around, and flashed him a grin. “Well, Commander Arthur. Long time no see. Missed me that much?” Arthur didn’t smile. Behind him stood a fully armed special forces squad, their muzzles pointing uniformly at my head. This kind of lineup was a bit excessive, even for my funeral. Arthur, his black-gloved fingers resting on his holster, ran his dark, brooding gaze over me. Finally, his eyes settled on my stomach. My heart skipped a beat. I was wearing loose clothes, so I wasn’t showing much, but his eyes were as venomous as a snake’s. “Your skills have slipped, Ethan.” “You used to be able to smell me three streets away. Now I’m standing right behind you, and you’re dealing with morning sickness?” He used the term “morning sickness.” Not “nausea.” My pupils contracted slightly, and the dagger in my hand quietly slipped into my palm. “My stomach’s been acting up lately. Ate something bad.” “What, does Commander Arthur care about my diet now?” Arthur let out a cold laugh. The next second, he struck without warning. If it were the old days, I could have gone three hundred rounds with him. But now? First, my legs were weak from throwing up. Second, the aftereffects of my genetic disease, combined with the little vampire in my belly, meant my stamina was currently worse than a Beta’s. I only had time to raise my arm to block. Crack. Sharp pain shot through my wrist. Just like that, he twisted my arms behind my back and slammed me hard against the grimy wall. “Ugh… Arthur, you son of a…” “Shh.” The cold barrel of the gun pressed against the back of my head. Arthur leaned in close to my ear, his tone freezing: “Finally caught you.” “Ethan, I was very dissatisfied with that one-dollar tip you left that night.” 2 I was taken back to Federal Prison No. 3. This place was specifically for S-class felons, known as the “Living Tomb.” And I was enjoying the highest level of treatment—personal interrogation by Arthur. The heat was off in the interrogation room, and it was bone-chillingly cold. I was locked in a specialized interrogation chair, my hands and feet tightly shackled. These shackles could suppress pheromones; if I struggled too much, they would release a high-voltage shock. Arthur sat across from me, slowly and methodically cleaning his gun. It was the birthday present I gave him back in the day. I didn’t expect him to keep it until now, much less plan to use it to shoot me. “Ethan, three years on the run, and this is what you’ve reduced yourself to?” He looked up at me, his gaze critical. I was definitely looking rough right now. I’d been stripped down to a single, thin T-shirt. My abdomen was throbbing dully from the violent struggle earlier. I gritted my teeth, fighting back the waves of nausea welling up in my throat. “I’m doing alright.” I forced a smirk. “Just came back for a family visit, you know.” “Family visit?” Arthur acted like he’d just heard a joke. “Visiting who? That former partner you shot through the shoulder and left in the ruins?” Arthur had a through-and-through scar on his body. I did that. Three years ago, the first signs of my genetic breakdown appeared. To avoid dragging him down, and to find a banned drug only available on the black market, I orchestrated a defection. I deliberately missed his vital organs with that shot, but I didn’t expect him to hold a grudge until now. “That was an accident.” “The gun misfired.” SLAM! Arthur slammed his hand on the table. “An accident?” “And sneaking into my residence, drugging me, and using me like a cheap gigolo for a night—was that an accident too?!” I didn’t expect things to turn out like that either. Three months ago, I desperately needed Arthur’s bone marrow fluid or highly concentrated pheromones as a catalyst for my medicine. I sneaked into his residence, originally planning to just draw a vial of his blood. Who knew I’d walk right into the middle of his explosive rut? The whole room was filled with that maddening scent. As an Alpha whose genes were on the verge of collapse, being stimulated by that top-tier oppressive aura caused an immediate, massive rejection reaction. I went crazy too. Only one thought remained in my mind: I need him. What happened next was a blur. I only remember biting, tangling, and him calling my name in the haze of passion. But I couldn’t admit it. If I admitted it, not only would I lose the cub, I’d lose my life too. “Commander Arthur, you need evidence for those claims.” I stared into his eyes, forcing myself to stay calm. “Your residence is heavily guarded. How could I possibly get in? Besides, I’m an Alpha, you’re an Alpha. How do two rock-hard men sleep together? A sword fight?” Arthur narrowed his eyes. “You’re an Alpha?” He suddenly reached out, his hand moving toward the scent gland on the back of my neck. There was a heavy-duty blocker patch stuck there. “Ethan, your pheromone scent has changed.” “It used to smell like strong liquor, now…” He leaned in closer and sniffed, frowning. “Why does it smell like milk?” 3 A herd of wild horses was trampling through my heart. That was the specific scent of an Omega during pregnancy. Even a blocker patch couldn’t completely hide it. “It’s a new cologne. You wouldn’t get it.” “Is it?” Arthur sneered. His fingers suddenly tightened, ready to rip off the blocker patch. “Then let me smell what brand this cologne is.” “Don’t touch me!” I panicked and struggled violently. If he discovered my scent gland had mutated into an Omega’s, everything was over. The shackles sensed my struggle and instantly released a high-voltage current. Zzzzt—! “Ugh!” Agony ripped through my entire body. My vision went black, and I slumped in the chair, convulsing. The electricity didn’t just shock my nerves; it stimulated my already unstable reproductive cavity. It felt like someone had viciously kicked my stomach. The pain made me curl up, and cold sweat instantly soaked my back. “Ethan!” Arthur didn’t seem to expect me to react this violently. He immediately cut the power and reached out to slap my face. “Stop playing dead! That was nothing!” I didn’t have the energy to play dead. I was in real pain. I could even feel something slowly slipping away. “Medicine…” I gripped his sleeve. “Give me my medicine…” “What medicine?” Arthur’s face changed; he must have realized something was very wrong. My body temperature was dropping rapidly, and my lips had turned a purplish-blue. “I have a genetic disease… I need my suppressants…” I shivered, speaking half-truths. I couldn’t say “pregnancy-preserving drugs.” If I did, it would be two lives lost. Arthur stared at me dead on, his eyes unreadable. Just when I thought he was going to watch me die in pain, he suddenly turned and pulled a syringe from the drawer of the interrogation table. It was a military emergency med-kit. Without hesitation, he injected it into my jugular vein. The liquid pushed in, freezing cold. The pain eased slightly. I gasped for air, like a fish just pulled out of the water. Arthur threw away the syringe and grabbed my chin again. “Ethan, what exactly are you hiding from me?” “I’ve checked your physical data. An S-class Alpha’s constitution wouldn’t collapse from that little bit of electricity.” “Unless…” His gaze moved down again, locking onto my abdomen. It was still spasming from the pain. “Unless your physical structure has mutated.” “Take off your clothes.” “What?” I froze for a second. “I said, take off your clothes.” Arthur stood up straight. “Or do I have to do it for you?” “Right here? Are you crazy, Arthur?” “I do what I want, where I want.” He didn’t give me a chance to refuse, grabbing the hem of my T-shirt directly. Riiiip— The fabric tore. My upper body was exposed to the air. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Because my body was covered in scars. Knife wounds, bullet wounds, burn marks—crisscrossing like an ugly web. Arthur’s gaze didn’t linger on those old scars. He stared at my lower abdomen. There was a slight bulge there. If you didn’t look closely, you’d think it was just relaxed muscle. But Arthur reached out and placed his hand over it. I shuddered, instinctively trying to pull back, but there was nowhere to hide. “What is this?” His voice trembled. It carried extreme shock and disbelief. “A lump? A tumor?” He pressed down slightly. I let out a muffled groan. The little cub inside, as if sensing the approach of its other half’s bloodline, actually moved at that very moment. It was a very faint movement. But Arthur froze completely. “It moved…?” I closed my eyes in despair. It was over. This time, it was really over. “Ethan.” Arthur’s voice was hoarse, laced with desperation. “Are you… pregnant?” “An Alpha… pregnant?” 4 Since I couldn’t hide it anymore, there was no need to keep playing the submissive fool. “Yes.” I opened my eyes and looked at him provocatively. “If you don’t believe me, you can cut it open right now and see if it’s a freak or a miracle.” “Whose is it?” He thought I had been sleeping around with wild men out there, knocked up, and came back just to disgust him. I suddenly found it a bit funny. “It’s not yours, anyway.” I deliberately provoked him. “You know what the black market is like. To stay alive, sometimes you have to pay a price…” “Shut up!” He grabbed me by the throat, his eyes bloodshot. “Ethan, how dare you… how dare you let another Alpha touch you?!” The feeling of suffocation rushed in. My vision started to go black, but a smile still hung on my lips. “Cough… Commander Arthur… we broke up a long time ago… who I sleep with… is none of your damn business…” “I forbid it!” Arthur seemed to have lost his mind, his pheromones violently washing over the entire room. “You are mine! Even if you’re a corpse, you’re mine!” “Who does that bastard child belong to?! I’ll kill him! I’ll tear him to pieces!” His grip tightened. I was really going to be strangled to death. The fetus in my abdomen sensed the mother’s crisis and began to struggle violently. It hurt so much. A hundred times worse than the electric shock just now. “Ugh…” I finally couldn’t hold it in and let out a painful groan. That sound seemed to bring back Arthur’s sanity. He looked at my pale face and my starting-to-dilate pupils, and his hand violently released. “Cough, cough, cough…” I coughed violently, greedily sucking in air. Arthur stumbled back two steps, his chest heaving heavily. He looked at his hands, then at me, curled up in pain, confusion and fear flashing in his eyes. “Ethan…” “Get lost…” I was sweating profusely from the pain, gritting my teeth and cursing: “Arthur, if you want to kill me, just do it… stop torturing me…” “Medic!” Arthur roared toward the door. “Get the military medic in here! Now!” “I dare anyone to come in!” “Arthur, if you dare let anyone else touch me… I’ll die right in front of you.” I still held the broken half of the dagger blade in my hand. I pressed it against my carotid artery. “Let me go.” “Impossible.” Arthur refused without a second thought. “With your physical condition, walking out that door means death.” “Staying here means death!” I stared at him. “Arthur, I’m a mutated Omega from a secondary gender differentiation. This child is a monster; it’s eating my life!” “You need top-tier Alpha pheromones to soothe it. Nobody else can save you.” Arthur calmed down. “Ethan, no matter who this bastard child belongs to, we’re saving your life first.” “Once you’re cured…” A ruthless glint appeared in his eyes. “I will personally abort this abomination, and then I’ll find your wild man and tear him to pieces.” I looked at him. I had a lot of mixed feelings. Are you going to tear yourself to pieces? Idiot. But I didn’t dare say it. This child was his. If he found out the truth, given his obsession with blood purity and his controlling nature, this child wouldn’t live to see tomorrow. And he would lock me up, lock me up for the rest of my life. “Ah—!” A tearing, agonizing pain suddenly erupted in my abdomen. My vision went black, and I completely lost consciousness. But in the last second before I passed out, I heard Arthur’s panicked shouts. “Ethan! Ethan!” And that momentary, trembling embrace that wrapped tightly around me. 5 When I woke up again, I was lying in a hospital bed in the infirmary. There were no shackles on my hands or feet, but there was a collar around my neck. It was the kind of suppression collar with GPS tracking and electric shock capabilities. Arthur sat by the bed, peeling an apple. Seeing I was awake, he cut a slice of the peeled apple and held it to my lips. “Eat.” I didn’t open my mouth, watching him warily. “It’s not poisoned.” He took a bite himself, chewing loudly. Then he said suddenly, “The child is still there.” I froze for a second, instinctively touching my stomach. “Why didn’t you abort it?” Arthur tossed the rest of the apple onto a plate and wiped his hands with a tissue. “The doctor said your reproductive cavity is underdeveloped and the walls are too thin. Forcing an abortion right now carries a 90% chance of massive hemorrhage.” He looked up at me, his eyes cold. “I don’t want you dying on the operating table. That would be letting you off too easy.” “So you’re planning to let me give birth to it?” “Give birth to it, and then I’ll strangle it right in front of you.” A chill ran down my spine. This mad dog would actually do it. I took a deep breath. “Arthur, let’s make a deal.” “I’ll help you find the person who broke into your residence, and you let me and the child go.” Arthur paused his movements. “You know who that person is?” “Of course.” I lied effortlessly. “I saw him in the black market. He’s also an Alpha, very skilled in disguises.” “Oh?” Arthur leaned in close to me. “Then tell me, why does that person have the exact same beautiful peach-blossom eyes as you?” I stopped talking. This bastard was bluffing me. Arthur reached out and gently patted my stomach. “Ethan, do you really think I’m stupid?” “Even though the security footage from that night was deleted, you left behind plenty of biological samples.” “I ran a DNA comparison.” My heart skipped a beat. I was screwed. “The results aren’t out yet.” Arthur slowly added another sentence. “But I have time.” “Until the results are out, you’ll stay here quietly and focus on your pregnancy.” “If you dare to run…” He pointed at the collar on my neck. “This thing can only be unlocked by my fingerprint. If you dare take one step out of this room, it will explode.” “And turn that pretty head of yours into a smashed watermelon.” 6 I was under house arrest. Right under Arthur’s nose. I have to admit, aside from his venomous tongue and ruthless nature, this mad dog really knew how to take care of someone. Three meals a day of top-tier nutritious food, and he watched me finish every bite. He practically gave away his pheromones for free to soothe my restless reproductive cavity. My current body was like a bottomless pit, greedily devouring his pheromones. Sometimes when I woke up in the middle of the night, I’d find him sleeping right next to me. Not back-to-back like we used to. He held me in his arms like a body pillow, his hand resting protectively on my stomach. Even in his sleep, he would unconsciously nuzzle the top of my head with his chin. It gave me an illusion. As if we had never fallen out, as if these three years were just a dream. As if… we really were just a normal Alpha/Omega couple, anticipating the arrival of a new life. But when I was fully awake, I knew this was a dead end. Once that DNA report came out, once he knew this child was his—and also the tool I used to exploit him— What awaited me would undoubtedly be a captivity worse than death. I had to run. The opportunity came quickly. Arthur had to attend a high-level Federation meeting and would be away for three days. He tripled the guards, turning the entire building into an iron fortress. But he underestimated the escape skills of a former S-class agent. On the second night of his absence, I pried open the ventilation duct. The collar was a problem. But I took a gamble. I gambled that Arthur wouldn’t actually blow my head off. I tampered with the collar’s sensor, using a thin wire pulled from the mattress to short-circuit its signal transmitter. I only had three minutes. After three minutes, the system would report an error, and Arthur would receive an alarm. I had to sprint out of this building and jump into the moat within three minutes. Everything went smoothly. Until I climbed out of the vent and stood on the roof, ready to jump. A familiar voice that made my scalp tingle came from behind me. “Ethan.” “Where do you think you’re taking my seed?” I turned around stiffly. In the pouring rain. Arthur hadn’t gone to the meeting. He was wearing that black trench coat, standing in the rain, holding a freshly printed document in his hand. He held up the report, the paper snapping in the wind and rain. “100% match.” He grinned, revealing his stark white teeth. “Ethan, you have some nerve.” “You slept with me, got pregnant with my seed, and then lied to me that it belonged to some wild man?” “Tell me, how should I punish you?” I took a step back, my heels hanging over the edge. Below me was a hundred-meter drop into a rushing river. “Arthur, I don’t owe you anything.” I shouted loudly, my voice torn apart by the wind and rain. “That shot from three years ago, I paid it back! This child… consider it payback too!” “What are you paying me back with?!” Arthur roared furiously, throwing the report aside and charging toward me. “Your body is mine! Your life is mine! This child is mine!” “Get over here!” “In your dreams!” I didn’t want to be his canary anymore, let alone a baby-making machine. I leaned back and spread my arms. Just as Arthur’s fingertips brushed mine, I fell backward. The wind howled past my ears. I saw Arthur lunge to the edge of the roof, half his body leaning out. On that always-calm face, I saw an expression called “despair” for the very first time. “Ethan—!!!” In that moment, I actually felt a twisted sense of satisfaction. So the mad dog feels pain too? Then let him hurt. This was the final bite mark I was leaving him.

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My boyfriend had depression. His medication and therapy sessions cost thousands of dollars every month. To pay for his treatment, I worked day and night, juggling freelance illustration commissions and running food deliveries. My friends all warned me to be careful of working myself to death. Until one day, I snagged a lucrative delivery run to a high-end gated community. I respectfully handed the premium, $2,500 Japanese takeout order to the customer with both hands. When I looked up, I saw my boyfriend—who was supposed to be at his therapy session—standing in the doorway, looking at me in utter shock. 01 “Shouldn’t you be at the clinic, Arthur Sterling?” I looked at the elegantly and luxuriously decorated mansion, my left hand gripping the takeout box so tightly it hurt. Even though it was 100 degrees outside, I was trembling as if I had plunged into an ice bath. I had only ever seen places like this in TV shows. “I’m sorry, Chloe, listen to me. Dr. Liu had an emergency this afternoon…” “I’m just hanging out at a friend’s house.” Faced with this sudden exposure, Arthur lost his composure and tugged at my sleeve. It was his go-to move when apologizing. It always worked, but not this time. I coldly swatted his hand away. I couldn’t name the designer brand of the custom shirt he was wearing, but ironically, it fit his aura of a wealthy heir far better than the basic clothes he usually wore. I lowered my eyes, pulled out my phone, and opened the appointment app for Green City Hospital. Seeing that Dr. Liu in the psychology department still had available slots today, I lost all interest in exposing his lie. Taking a deep breath, I cleared my head and forced a calm, steady voice: “Arthur, are you having fun?” “Pretending to be a down-and-out, depressed, poor kid around me, acting like you can’t even afford a bubble tea… when in reality, you’re a rich kid who drops $2,500 on a single meal!” My lips trembled. I glared resentfully at the man in front of me, not even realizing my eyes had filled with tears. “You really… played me for an absolute fool…” “Two thousand five hundred dollars! I’d have to complete over six thousand delivery runs. That’s two months of work…” The most ridiculous part was that the only app left open in the background of my phone… was the message I had sent Arthur half an hour ago. I told him I was treating us to an extra dish tonight, planning to make his favorite lotus root soup. Because the customer in this wealthy neighborhood was very generous, leaving a $15 tip. I just never imagined that the tip came from Arthur himself. 02 Arthur would always hold me late at night and say that in this world, my love was the only thing he would never question. Even his parents’ love for him wasn’t as pure as mine. Those whispers once made me rejoice that in a world where true feelings are rare, I was one of the lucky ones. Looking back now, I realized no one else would be stupid enough to brave the risk of heatstroke for a measly dollar hot-weather bonus, just to scrape together his medical expenses for the month a little faster. “I haven’t slept more than five hours a night in so long. I dream about you recovering a day sooner.” “You know this better than anyone, don’t you?” My questioning voice gradually choked with emotion. Arthur’s previously calm expression cracked, and he nodded, his eyes rimmed with red. In that cramped, rundown, one-bedroom apartment, where it took half an hour just to walk to the subway station… He watched me exhaust myself, watched me pinch every penny. Watched me struggle, desperately paying for his fake “slumming it” game, all to treat this fabricated depression. He acted like a god the entire time, watching coldly from the sidelines. “I’ll transfer some money to your bank account as compensation.” “I’m sorry for doing this to you.” Arthur lowered his head slightly, guilt and a trace of helplessness in his eyes. Realizing he couldn’t talk his way out of it, he simply gave up. With stiff fingers, I pulled out the crumpled receipt from my pocket. It was a foot and a half long, filled entirely with premium cuts of meat. I crumpled it into a ball and threw it at him with all my might. Arthur didn’t dodge; his expression was a mix of sorrow and remorse. The cool air from inside brought a touch of relief. Amidst the chirping of cicadas, footsteps approached from nearby. Followed by a woman’s coquettish voice: “Arthur, is the food here yet? I’m starving to death!” 03 Arthur and I broke our standoff, his expression changing slightly. When we both turned, we saw a young woman walking toward us wearing a lace slip dress. Arthur panicked and stepped forward to stop her: “Why did you come out? I’m coming right back in. Be a good girl, go back inside.” But the girl seemed determined to see what was going on. She bypassed Arthur, looked at me with a smile, her almond eyes revealing a hint of familiarity and disdain. “Is this…” Silence. Seeing our mutual silence, the corners of her mouth curved up. She then naturally hooked her arm through Arthur’s and pulled the dusty pink, slightly sheer slip dress down a bit. The red marks on her neck and the curves beneath the fabric were on full display. She leaned against Arthur softly, as if she had no bones. The man’s anxious gaze fell on me. I turned my head away in despair and closed my eyes briefly. My sweat-soaked hair clung stickily to my face, and my temples throbbed with a dull ache. Even if I were dense, I knew exactly what had happened here. I originally thought I was just the unlucky victim in a rich kid’s poverty simulation. Now, it seemed I was also the spicy seasoning in his love story. Just pure, unadulterated bad luck. I didn’t want to stay any longer. I turned around, packed up my delivery box, and prepared to leave. But the girl suddenly called out to me: “Wait, are you the slum girlfriend Arthur plays with outside of school?” “I didn’t recognize you in that delivery uniform. Are you Chloe Price from the College of Liberal Arts?” 04 I stopped and turned back to look at her. Half a minute later, I finally confirmed it. She was Mia, a senior one year ahead of me—the girl with an excellent background and looks, surrounded by admirers like stars around the moon. But we had history. Because she pulled strings to steal my financial aid grant for someone else, I never sucked up to her like everyone else did. Seeing my dark, unnatural expression, Mia tightened her grip on Arthur’s arm. She put on an act of delightful surprise and spoke in a sugary voice: “Arthur, I didn’t expect this! Last year, I casually complained to you about an annoying, pretentiously aloof junior…” “And after asking a few questions, you actually went and messed with Chloe for me! I admire your methods, so brilliant…” Mia looked up, glared at me, and continued: “So brilliant that you played the great talent of our college, Chloe Price, like a dog running in circles.” My hands, hanging by my sides, slowly clenched into fists. The cool air from the house blew on me, but I felt no relief or comfort. To these people, the future, emotions, money, and sweat of ordinary people were like an eyesore of weeds by the side of the road. Not only did they ignore it, but they also had to trample it underfoot and spit on it. Mia leaned in and kissed Arthur’s cheek, like a reward for making a fool of me, and shot me a provocative look. Then, as if remembering something, her expression turned strange and frantic. She asked: “Junior Chloe, did Arthur tell you he had depression?” I frowned, not denying it. The woman in front of me doubled over in laughter. But the words coming out of her mouth made my blood run cold. “That’s because I told Arthur that your younger brother committed suicide because of depression.” “As long as Arthur said he had depression, a brainless fool like you would definitely fall for it.” “And sure enough.” 05 As soon as her words fell, the air stagnated for a moment, leaving only the sound of cicadas. My mind exploded, losing all rationality. I bit my lower lip hard, took off my delivery helmet, gripped it tightly, and smashed it frantically at Arthur. If I swallowed this insult, I might as well go open a steamed bun shop tomorrow. My chest heaving violently, I screamed: “Depression, huh?! Playing poor, huh?! Love poking at people’s trauma, huh?!” “You deserve to have parents who don’t love an animal like you! You deserve to watch your dad beat your mom! Why didn’t he beat you to death too?!” “I’ll fucking beat you to death for your dad right now!” During the year Arthur and I were together, whether he was acting or feeling genuine emotion, we had shared our vulnerabilities. So I knew perfectly well that what he could never let go of was his parents’ coldness and neglect, which left him completely deprived of familial love since childhood. And right now, that became my weapon to verbally attack and curse him. Before they could react, I smashed the helmet into Arthur’s face again and again. Driven by pure rage, I gasped for air. Long-term lack of sleep made my head start to spin. The moment Mia mentioned my brother, Leo Price, the rationality I had maintained all afternoon crumbled instantly. He was my absolute boundary, the one person no one was allowed to touch. Until Mia pulled me away, Arthur didn’t fight back once. He covered his mouth, his hands covered in blood. “Are you okay, Arthur?! I’m calling the police right now!” “This crazy bitch has a death wish, daring to hit you?! I’ll have my dad…” Mia’s angry voice cracked with tears, but Arthur grabbed her hand and shook his head: “Don’t. Don’t.” “It’s… what I owe her.” He smoothed his hair, which I had messed up, stood up, and walked over to me. He pulled a gold card from his pocket and handed it to me: “The PIN is your birthday. I know things can’t be undone, but… anyway, I’m sorry.” I let out a cold laugh, looking at him with eyes full of nothing but ice and hatred. “Die early.” I forcefully snatched the gold card from his fingers, dropped that sentence, and turned to leave. 06 There was $110,000 on the card. I asked the delivery company boss for my final pay and quit my job. The 250-square-foot studio apartment was so small you could see from one end to the other in a single glance. Back then, Arthur and I moved out of the dorms because he said his physical symptoms of depression were getting worse and he wanted me to be with him every day. Originally, I wasn’t without my defenses against Arthur, who had barged recklessly into my life. But seeing him suffer from the same illness as my brother ultimately softened my heart and clouded my judgment. For a while, I couldn’t even distinguish whether my feelings for him were mostly love, or an urgent desire to make amends born from my infinite guilt toward my brother. I just crazily, obsessively wanted to help Arthur cure his depression. It was as if doing so would lighten the nightmare I couldn’t escape. Speaking of which, we didn’t accumulate a lot of things over the year. But the couple’s items we bought in pairs were glaringly painful to look at, so I just threw them all in the trash. Listening to the hum of the old air conditioner, I stared at the ceiling, slowly detaching from my relentless labor, and fell into a deep sleep. In my dream, I couldn’t count how many times I had dreamed of Leo in the bathtub. He lay bloodless in the crimson liquid, his entire body as pale as a porcelain doll, without warmth, without breath. The pill bottle had fallen by his limp fingertips. His closed, long eyelashes curved exactly as they did when he dozed off waiting for me to finish studying day after day. Only this time, he would never open his eyes again. He would never rub his sleepy eyes and ask when his sister was going to bed. On his phone, he had cleared his chat history with everyone, leaving only one final message for me: “Sister, I’m sorry,” and a transfer of $500. That was all the money he had left. The spring colors were vibrant that year when Leo, the golden boy, left in the best season. And I was trapped in that spring forever. 07 The rustling of a plastic bag behind the door jolted me awake. A man wearing a black dress shirt was crouching by the trash can, sneakily digging for something. “Who’s there?” The man froze, then slowly turned around. It was Arthur. He was still wearing a mask, and there were several bandages on his face. I rubbed my aching forehead, forgetting he still had a key to the apartment. The couple rings, mugs, watches, and souvenirs I had thrown in the trash that afternoon had all been fished out by him and neatly lined up on the floor. “Why are you taking these?” Arthur lowered his eyes at my words, hiding his emotions. “I came to pack a few last things to take with me.” “They’re all worthless junk. Young Master Sterling actually wants them?” Sitting up in bed, I took the opportunity to look around to see if there was anything else important. Since things had come to this, I planned to move back to the dorms and terminate the lease here. Arthur held the cheap silver couple ring in his hand, his thumb gently rubbing it. His voice was lonely and low: “Chloe, I know you don’t believe me, but I really mean it. I truly only trust you…” “No one has ever loved me so purely and genuinely. I don’t want to lose you.” I waved my hand, lowered my head, and scoffed. The scene from that afternoon replayed mockingly in my mind. “Mean what? Did you love me so much you specially had me deliver the post-coital meal? Should I thank you for that?” “I can explain what happened with Mia! Nothing has ever happened between us. Getting together was just something I agreed to casually back then.” “And I wanted to break it off with her a long time ago. I’ve already realized the person I truly love is…” “There’s no point in discussing this anymore.” I cut him off coldly, my eyes indifferent. Water dripped into the bucket in the bathroom. The knee-high faucet leaked year-round, and to save on the water bill, I always kept a plastic bucket underneath it. The money saved was just a few pennies. Talking about sincere love now was laughable. The moment the scam was exposed, regardless of whether his feelings were genuine, an uncrossable chasm had already formed between us. “Actually, Arthur, when you used my brother’s tragedy to get close to me, did you ever think that karma would come back to hit you one day?” “What do you mean?” I didn’t answer. I just frowned, opened the door, and gestured for him to leave. Seeing my resolute expression, a flash of hurt crossed his eyes. He then shoved the items lined up on the floor into his bag all at once and stood up. “Stop pretending to have depression.” “Because for every person like you in this world, the stigma surrounding depression gets worse, and the people who actually suffer find it harder to get help.” And the number of people like Leo Price would increase by one. After a long pause, the man in front of me slowly nodded. Then Arthur pulled a bag of ribs and lotus root from behind the door. He had seen my message about the extra dish. “Can you make lotus root soup for me one last time?” “No. Your family’s chef will make it much better.” “I only like the way you make it.” “Chloe, why can’t you just trust me one more time? Give me another chance?” His voice was already choked with tears. I never expected that Arthur, having reclaimed his high-and-mighty status as the prince of Green City, would show such a pleading expression. At this moment, nothing fit the script of his poverty simulation anymore. Regardless of the truth in his words, I remained unmoved and silent. He understood I was refusing. He wanted to grab my hand but eventually let his arm drop. Before walking out the door, Arthur’s eyes were red as he looked back at me. “Do you still love me?” “No.” “Can you love me again?” “No.” 08 After Arthur left, I started packing up the miscellaneous items in the apartment. Preparing to move back to school next week. Packing until the early hours of the morning, I slumped onto the sofa, my gaze falling on a box in the corner of the closet. It was locked. It contained the belongings my brother, Leo, left behind. We were twins. After our parents divorced, they started their own families. We were like the high-cost mistakes of our parents’ youth—no one wanted to foot the bill, and no one wanted to look back. So, from middle school onwards, Leo and I had to rely on each other to survive on minimum child support. Thinking of this made my heart ache unbearably. I gripped a jewelry box tightly in my hand. This was the birthday present Leo gave me the year he left—a hexagram necklace encrusted with small diamonds. He smiled radiantly when he gave it to me, personally fastening it around my neck. “Sister, this is the necklace I bought with my own money! Do you like it? It looks so beautiful on you, better than on a model!” “Even though this one isn’t expensive, I will work hard to put all the most beautiful gems in the world on my sister!” The teenage boy’s eyes were sincere. I poked his single dimple and nodded happily. Leo, I believed you, so I’ve been waiting. Underneath the foam insert of the jewelry box, something rattled when I shook it. I picked it up and found a key. When Leo gave it to me the year before last, this key wasn’t there. He must have put it in later. I took it out, thought for a moment, and my gaze fell on the chipped box in the corner. The lock clicked open. There were only four items inside. An oil painting full of withered sunflowers, an album by his favorite band, “Word and Wine,” a diary, and a piece of paper with an account name and password written on it. My eyes landed on the black diary. I picked it up and placed it on my lap. I started reading from the beginning. The earlier entries were just daily trivia and which girl at school had confessed to him that day. It was only natural. Leo was handsome and fair, with charming peach-blossom eyes, yet he carried an aloof, aristocratic aura. Since we were young, I had accepted many love letters and snacks on his behalf. But perhaps because we were both abandoned at a young age, despite receiving so much admiration, he remained sensitive and delicate, which was why he developed the habit of keeping a diary. After entering A University, Leo, with his naturally gifted voice, quickly became the lead singer of the school band. At every performance, there were fangirls screaming for him. As I delved deeper into the memories, my finger paused on a page. Because Mia’s name had suddenly appeared in the diary. And from then on, she appeared more and more frequently.

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Arthur and I had been married for three years. Everyone said we were the perfect, loving couple. But only I knew that he had been sleeping in the guest room for three years. He had never touched me. I placed the divorce papers on his desk, intending to set him free. But I unexpectedly saw a diary lying open on the desk. [Today, she forgot to take her clothes after showering. I resisted for a long time, but couldn’t control myself and hid one piece. I hope she won’t notice.] I froze. So he was the one taking all the lingerie I’d “lost” before. 1 In the middle of the diary on the desk lay a black and gold fountain pen. It wasn’t the one I had given Arthur. But the lingerie mentioned as taken in the diary… Was the exact set I had just bought last week. Thinking back carefully, over these three years, the nightgowns and lingerie I’d lost probably added up to over twenty pieces. I had thought the wind blew them away. Or that I forgot to pack them after a trip. The only person I hadn’t suspected was Arthur. Simply because of his aloof personality. Since getting married, we had always treated each other with polite respect. When he spoke to me, his eyes never wandered anywhere else. How could he do something like this? But last night, Arthur said there was no hot water in the guest bathroom sink. And borrowed my bathroom to take a shower. It took him barely half an hour, start to finish, and he even thanked me when he left. I hadn’t suspected a thing. I never imagined it was him. But my intimate clothing… it wasn’t like he could wear it. What could he possibly do with it? Inappropriate images suddenly popped into my head. My face burned, and I didn’t dare think about it any further. I really wanted to step closer and read the earlier entries in the diary. I even wanted to storm into the guest room and rummage through his closet. But that would be too unethical. I calmed myself down. And decided to pretend I hadn’t seen anything. I turned around and closed the study door. As for the divorce papers, I stuffed them into a drawer in my vanity. Real or fake, I’ll find out once I test it. 2 Arthur came home early tonight. Seeing the living room lights off when he came in, he called out my name. “Chloe Vance.” I braced myself and walked out of the bedroom. “You’re home. I didn’t make dinner tonight.” Arthur still had that same unsmiling expression. Whenever he called me, he always used my full name. But I had read the diary… Just thinking about him, with that aloof face, secretly using my nightgowns to… I couldn’t even look him in the eye. Completely oblivious to my unusual behavior, he handed me a blue gift bag. “That’s fine. We can go out to eat. “This is a gift for you.” I reached out to take it. The back of my hand accidentally brushed against his fingertips. I pulled back quickly. Arthur’s eyes darkened for a moment, but quickly returned to normal. Today was our third wedding anniversary. The gift I had prepared for him was a divorce agreement. Yet he had bought me a pearl necklace. I suppressed my complicated emotions and said softly: “I’m sorry, I forgot to get you a gift.” Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind. “It’s okay. I don’t need anything. “This necklace suits you, so I picked it up.” I quietly said thank you. Arthur said flatly: “You’re welcome. Get ready, I’ll go make a reservation.” I changed into a strapless velvet dress, paired with a fur shawl. And put on the pearl necklace he gave me. It was an elegant outfit, not overly flashy. When I opened the door, Arthur looked up and was visibly stunned for a second. Our eyes met, and my heart suddenly beat faster. Before I could speak, he had already looked away. “Let’s go.” Watching his indifferent back, I muttered to myself: Let’s see how long you can keep this act up. … The temperature in the restaurant was a bit high. Just as I was about to take off my shawl, He suddenly looked up and stared at me. Arthur had sharp features and deep-set eyes. Wearing glasses usually softened his aggressive aura, giving him a more refined look. But right now, I saw danger in his eyes. “Wh-what’s wrong?” “Nothing. I’m going out for a smoke.” As soon as he left, that suffocating feeling instantly dissipated. For a second there, I thought he was going to eat me alive. 3 During dinner, Arthur mentioned he had a few days off. And asked if I wanted to go home. Actually, my plan was to confront Arthur, sign the divorce papers, and then go back. After my family went bankrupt, my dad’s mental health took a hit. He rented a house back in our hometown, spending his days gardening and growing vegetables. He gradually recovered. My dad always thought Arthur and I had a great relationship. I hadn’t told him about the divorce yet. If I went back with Arthur, the divorce papers would have to wait. Arthur was waiting for my answer. I had no choice but to brace myself and force a laugh. “Sure. If you’re not busy, let’s go back together.” When we were leaving, Arthur stood at the door, not moving. I looked at him. “Did you forget something?” His gaze fell on my shoulders, obscure and unreadable. “Put your shawl on properly.” Perhaps realizing his tone was too harsh, He softened his voice and added: “It’s cold outside.” “…” After taking a shower, I looked at my discarded clothes in the laundry basket. I remembered the bra I had recently lost. It was a low-cut style, trimmed with white lace. I really liked it. I wonder where Arthur hid it. I deliberately left the nightgown I had just taken off on the counter. Arthur would be borrowing the bathroom again tonight. If the nightgown disappeared, then I’d have concrete proof. Sure enough, a little while later, Arthur knocked on the door. Still wearing that cold, aloof face. “Sorry, I need to borrow it one more time tonight.” I smiled at him and said generously: “No problem, go ahead.” Listening to the sound of the water running in the bathroom, every second felt like a year. I kept staring at the same page of my book without reading a single word. Finally, Arthur came out. He looked completely normal and said softly: “Get some rest soon. Goodnight.” “Mhm. Goodnight.” As soon as he left, I immediately rushed into the bathroom. Sure enough. My nightgown. Was gone. I was both embarrassed and furious. I marched angrily to the door of the guest room. Just as I was about to knock, I suddenly heard a few suppressed, muffled groans coming through the crack in the door. Th-this-this… Is he… right now…? My face burned searing hot. Afraid of walking in on something incredibly awkward, I had no choice but to turn back to my room. My imagination ran wild all day, resulting in bizarre dreams that night. In my dream, Arthur was wearing my lingerie. Asking me if he looked good. I called him a pervert. He chuckled, pressed me down, and whispered in my ear: “Chloe, then you wear it. “Wear it just for me, okay?” 4 When I woke up the next day, I had huge, dark circles under my eyes. Arthur was already on the phone with my dad. Hearing that we were coming to stay for a few days, My dad happily announced he was going to slaughter a chicken to make soup. The two of them chatted casually on the phone, the familiar atmosphere making it seem like we were truly a real family. I packed my luggage with mixed feelings. Actually, Arthur treated me quite well. He supported my continuing to paint. He didn’t make unreasonable demands just because he saved my family from ruin. On the contrary, he respected me deeply. Everyone outside thought we had a profound connection, a couple to be envied. I had even developed feelings for him. But he attributed all his kindness to repaying a debt of gratitude. I had to wonder, maybe he just saw me as a younger sister he was taking care of. Aside from a marriage certificate, we had absolutely no real connection. But now, the thought of my nightgown potentially hidden in his suitcase made my skin crawl. His serious, upright demeanor was entirely an act! I closed my suitcase, suppressing my complicated emotions. I resolved that once we got back from my dad’s, I would put an end to this absurd marriage. The drive back took almost six hours. Arthur was a bit of a germaphobe. So I didn’t open a single snack from the huge bag he had bought me. I lay in the backseat, playing games on my phone. Arthur watched me through the rearview mirror. “Is there nothing you like?” Wrong. He bought all my favorites. But this was his car, and I had to respect his germaphobia. So I lied: “Oh, I’m not hungry.” Halfway there, Arthur pulled into a rest stop. When I came out of the restroom, he was standing under a camphor tree, talking on the phone. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, shining down on him. Without his suit jacket, wearing just a dress shirt, Arthur looked a bit more youthful. He flicked the ash from his cigarette, brought it to his lips, and took a deep drag. He tilted his head back, exhaling the smoke. His usually rigid posture relaxed in that moment. When he glanced sideways and saw me, a faint smile played on his lips. “Alright, I’m hanging up. Call me if anything comes up.” This gentle, modest appearance… Definitely an act too! As soon as I got in the car, I covered myself with my coat and pretended to sleep. Terrified he would try to talk to me. Arthur drove very steadily. While pretending to sleep, I actually fell asleep. When I woke up, my dad had already opened the car door and was welcoming me out. “Chloe, you slept the whole way! You didn’t even take a turn driving so Arthur could rest?” Before I could even speak, Arthur looked at me, smiled, and said: “It’s fine. She’s not familiar with my car. It’s better to let her sleep.” “Sleeping so much during the day, will you even be able to sleep tonight?” Arthur said softly: “If she can’t sleep, then she won’t. It’s a rare vacation.” A seemingly casual remark. Yet it sent a chill down my spine. I quickly got out of the car and bolted toward the courtyard. As soon as I walked in, the rich aroma of chicken soup hit me. “Dad, I’m starving. Let’s eat.” “Okay, okay, okay. You two can taste your old man’s cooking. Arthur, take her to wash her hands. Keep an eye on her so she doesn’t try to sneak a bite!” Arthur, carrying my suitcase, followed my dad and smiled in agreement: “Sure, I’ll keep an eye on her.” Hearing Arthur’s voice, I tensed up. As soon as he walked in, I quickly hurried out. Awkward. It was just too awkward. 5 It wasn’t until after dinner that I realized an even more awkward problem. My dad said he had only prepared one guest room. “One room?” I gasped out loud. My dad looked at me, confused: “It’s just the two of you, isn’t one room enough?” Arthur interjected: “It’s enough. Thanks, Dad.” As he spoke, his dark eyes never left me. It gave me the creeps. I lay in bed, tossing and turning. I decided to text Arthur. [How about you and my dad go out and play cards tonight?] Arthur: [I’m tired from driving.] Okay, driving for over six hours is definitely exhausting. [Then I’ll sleep outside on the couch and watch TV all night.] Arthur: [There’s no heating in the living room.] What am I supposed to do then? I can’t actually share a bed with Arthur, can I? I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to control myself. I carefully drafted a reply: [But sleeping together… isn’t that a bit inconvenient?] This time, Arthur didn’t reply immediately. I could hear him and my dad chatting outside. I paced around the bedroom anxiously. He wasn’t replying. Did that mean there was no room for negotiation? A short while later, Arthur returned. I hid under the covers and pretended to sleep. I listened to him taking a shower in the bathroom. The atmosphere grew increasingly tense. Unfortunately, I had slept for over three hours during the day, and I wasn’t sleepy at all now. The countryside night was incredibly silent. I could hear his every movement clearly. The water in the bathroom stopped. Arthur was drying his hair. He opened the door and approached. The mattress dipped on one side. A familiar scent drifted over. He used my body wash! I swallowed hard. And tried to steady my breathing. Arthur was tall with long legs. As soon as he got under the covers, his foot accidentally brushed against my calf. “Sorry.” “It’s fine.” “You’re not asleep?” “…” “Isn’t it stuffy under the covers?” “…” The air almost solidified. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, pretending I wasn’t the one who had just spoken. But Arthur leaned closer. The rich floral scent was warmed by his body heat. Why had I never noticed before how this scent could make a person’s imagination run wild? I held my breath, continuing my act. “Chloe, did you read the diary I left on the desk?” My eyes snapped open instantly, and I threw off the covers to explain: “I didn’t! I didn’t read it!” Who knew I would look straight into his dark, deep eyes. He frowned slightly. “Tsk. You didn’t read it? “My fault. I guess I didn’t leave it in a noticeable enough spot.” What did this disappointed tone mean? Was he laying all his cards on the table? Dropping the act? Voluntarily admitting he stole my clothes? I threw the covers back, preparing to interrogate him properly. But instead, he grabbed my wrist, his voice low: “It’s been three years. Are you still this afraid of me?” As he spoke, he leaned over me. His voice was hoarse, murmuring in my ear: “But I don’t want to hold back anymore. “Chloe, it hurts so much to hold back. Touch it if you don’t believe me.” 6 My fingertips brushed against hot, smooth skin. I yanked my hand back instantly. The tips of my ears burned. “Arthur, are you crazy?!” He had a few extra drinks while chatting with my dad at dinner. It was my dad’s homemade liquor, and it was very strong. Now, a faint flush covered his pale skin. A layer of mist clouded his eyes as he looked at me pitifully. “You don’t want to touch me…” He was definitely drunk. This disappointed tone gave me goosebumps. Tonight, Arthur had shed his usual cold exterior. After his shower, his dark, fluffy hair softened his sharp features. Without his glasses, his long eyelashes made him look fragile and vulnerable. I remembered the contents of his diary and tested the waters: “Arthur, did you drink too much?” “No.” “Then… did you take my nightgown?” “Yes, I took it.” “What did you do with it after you took it?” Arthur fell into a memory, his Adam’s apple bobbing hard. He said hoarsely: “I did some bad things.” I couldn’t help but remember the suppressed groans I heard outside the guest room that day. A mix of pain and pleasure. It was obvious what he was doing. My face instantly turned bright red. Secretly writing in a diary, secretly taking my nightgowns to DIY… Was it really that hard for him to just say he liked me? I was determined to make him say it himself! Feigning anger, I glared at him: “What ‘bad things’ exactly?” Arthur’s dark eyes stared at me. He shuffled forward on his knees, trapping me against the headboard. “Chloe, I can’t say it. Can I show you instead?” 7 Show me. Show me. Show me. That’s all he knows how to do. Blushing furiously, I shoved him away. Arthur was caught off guard. He fell backward onto the blanket. Propping himself up on his hands behind him. Under the warm yellow glow of the bedside lamp, he looked up, his expression stunned. His chest heaved rapidly. Through the loose collar of his pajamas, I could faintly see his collarbones and pectoral muscles beneath his Adam’s apple. Clean, sharp lines. Combined with that face that usually looked completely devoid of worldly desires… It was just too unfair. “You-you go sleep with my dad!” He looked down, glancing at his pajama pants, and said bitterly: “Chloe, it’s… not really convenient for me to go out like this.” I followed his gaze. And instantly felt embarrassed and annoyed. “Arthur, how could you?!” He let out a soft sigh. “I’ve always been like this. I was afraid of scaring you, which is why we slept in separate rooms.” “But you can’t just…” hold it in for three years. “I’m sorry. If you don’t like it, I’ll control myself. “I was impulsive tonight because of the alcohol. If I touch you again… you really might get hurt. “Chloe, go to sleep. I’m going to the bathroom.” I instantly understood what he was going to do. I hid under the covers, refusing to look at him. But he didn’t move, just sat on the edge of the bed looking at me. I poked my head out: “What are you doing? Don’t tell me you expect me to help you?” Arthur’s body stiffened, and he swallowed hard. “Can you?” “Of course not!” “Then can I borrow your pajamas for a bit?” Act, act, act. Still acting! “Where’s the white silk one from yesterday?” “I accidentally tore that one.” Me: “…” It only lasted one night! Is he covered in spikes or something?! My face dark, I gritted my teeth: “Arthur! That piece was very expensive!” “I’ll buy you new ones, lots and lots of them!” “Don’t even think about it! I only brought two pieces with me!” “But without your pajamas, it’s really hard for me…” “Stop talking, you pervert!” I couldn’t bear to listen anymore. I hid under the covers, clutching my burning face. I had no idea that Arthur, standing by the bed, felt like he was shattering into pieces. It took him a long time to say: “I’m sorry.”

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